War Photographer's Notebook

Chapter 1740 Internationalist Warrior

Wei Ran quickly ran back to the room and checked the room again as quickly as possible. Then he closed the curtains, took out a pen, wrote "There is a taxi waiting for me downstairs" on the letter pad provided by the hotel, folded it and pinned it on his sleeve.

Then he opened the wardrobe in the room and opened the suitcase inside. He then took out the Astra 400 pistol from the lunch box and placed it on the opened suitcase.

After taking a few deep breaths, Wei Ran was ready. Thanks to the arson incident above Zhaohe last time, he had been in a very good mood these days.

What's more, this time he was going to explore the International Brigade, so he was very much looking forward to it.

After calming down, Wei Ran finally took out the metal notebook, spread it out on the open suitcase, and let the metal feather pen draw a pattern on the pale yellow paper.

It was the flag with the 27 three-pointed stars and the words "Fight for your freedom and mine" written in various languages, and nothing else.

While he waited, the metal feather pen wrote lines of words under the pattern.

Role: Internationalist fighter Wei Ran

Return mission: Take no less than 10 photos, kill no less than 10 enemies with hot weapons, and collect at least 5 letters and corresponding relics.

Skill restriction: Medical skill deprivation

Language task: Kill no less than 10 enemies with cold weapons or bare hands

You are the real daddy!

Wei Ran only had time to curse before everything in front of him was shrouded in thick white light. Then, he saw the props that could be used this time.

Mauser bayonet, Rollei twin-reflex rifle, Pelikan fountain pen, 1911 pistol and harmonica, harmonica, engineer shovel, Nagant revolver, British Army kettle and Long March shoulder pole with box gun attached, these are the things he can use this time.

But among these things, there were three pistols, not to mention that he was deprived of his medical skills, which made him almost subconsciously tense.

Before the white light disappeared, he realized that he was taking mechanical steps. At the same time, he heard a French chorus that became increasingly clear and gave him goosebumps:

Arise, you starving and cold slaves!

Arise, you wretches of the world!

My blood is boiling and I want to fight for the truth!

When the white light gradually faded, he came back to his senses and walked quickly at the same pace as before, while blinking quickly to make his originally blurry vision clearer.

At this moment, he was following a company on a forced march and singing the Internationale. On both sides were town buildings that seemed to have been destroyed by shelling, and people on the roadside were shouting slogans he could not understand.

The people in this company have different uniforms, different weapons, and different ages.

He looked at his outfit. He saw a boat hat with a red tassel on his head and a red scarf tied around his neck.

The outermost part of the upper body is a brown leather jacket, and the inner part is a pair of khaki canvas overalls and a turtleneck sweater, and on the feet are a pair of British country boots.

He even suspected that these boots were the same pair he wore when he fled to England with the French tailor Vanessa last time.

He also had a weapon, a Spanish short Mauser rifle. On his belt was a dark red cowhide bullet box and a Mauser bayonet fixed in a holster. The bayonet was nothing special, but there were only three magazines of 15 rifle bullets in the bullet box. That was all his equipment.

Moving his gaze to look at the people around him, he saw that their equipment and clothing were equally varied, and could be considered to be genuine products from all over the world.

Not to mention the clothes, there is even someone wearing a suit inside and a tweed windbreaker outside, and a helmet on his head.

In terms of weapons, various Mausers and French guns such as Bell, Mannlicher and even Chauchat are the mainstream.

At the same time, there were also weapons such as the British Lee-Enfield, the Golden Hook rifles eliminated by the Japanese, and even box guns in wooden gun boxes, as well as various weapons that he had never seen or recognized.

In general, the variety of weapons that this team can see alone is already a catastrophic nightmare for logistics, no less than the weapons logistics system of the later Niu Niu Country.

But even so, these people's singing is particularly uniform, powerful and passionate.

After a slight hesitation, Wei Ran reached into his pocket as a cover, took out the harmonica from the metal book, put it to his mouth, and played the accompaniment along with the singing around him.

When the harmonica music sounded, the surrounding chorus became much louder.

Not long after, someone about a dozen people in front started playing accompaniment with the harmonica, and the singing became more powerful.

After singing this song twice, an enthusiastic voice at the front of the team shouted in French, "Paris Commune Battalion! Speed ​​up and move forward!"

"Yes!"

Many soldiers responded in unison and quickened their pace, inspired by the chorus just now.

At the same time, a man holding a harmonica ran out of the queue from the front and ran to Wei Ran while asking questions.

"Were you the one playing the accompaniment just now? You play the harmonica really well."

The man asked in French with a slight accent, "I forgot to introduce myself. My French name is Clermont."

"French name? So you're not French?"

Wei Ran shook hands with the other party hurriedly and also glanced at him hurriedly.

The young man looked to be no more than twenty-five or twenty-six years old, tall and thin, with slightly long and messy dark brown hair that made him look a little dishevelled, but he had a pair of deep and passionate black eyes and exceptionally three-dimensional facial features.

Obviously, he was most likely Spanish rather than French. In addition to his appearance, Wei Ran also noticed that the only weapon this young man had was a Spanish knockoff of the 1911 Star 1920 pistol.

On his back was a very worn-out German 1895-style early model backpack that came from nowhere. Around his neck, in addition to a red scarf, he also had a Super Ikonta folding leather camera hanging.

"Aren't you French too?"

This handsome young man explained as a matter of course, "My father and mother are from Spain and Italy respectively, and I studied in Paris before."

"My French name is Victor"

Wei Ran briefly introduced himself, and then asked curiously, "Are you a reporter?"

"My job is a postman, and I also do some translation work."

Clement explained, "Taking pictures is just my personal interest. Victor, you don't look European?"

"I'm from China," Wei Ran replied with a smile, "I'm a Chinese."

"Are you a Chinese person who uses Chinese characters?"

Clemont asked, "I just delivered a letter to a Chinese not long ago. Victor, your French is really good, better than mine."

"Thank you for the compliment." Wei Ran smiled and deliberately switched to German and said, "I also speak German."

"You can speak German?!" Clement asked in surprise. Obviously, he could speak German too.

"I can also speak English, Italian and Russian," Wei Ran said with a smile.

He was betting that the postman needed someone who could speak multiple languages ​​to help him.

"You can speak Italian too?" Clemont asked in surprise, switching to Italian.

"Of course," Wei Ran responded in Italian.

"Hey! Victor, how about you help me?!"

As expected, Clemont immediately asked, "I need to distribute letters to the entire 11th International Brigade. Although I am not the only one doing this job, I need someone who can speak many languages. How about you help me?"

"Of course I'm willing to help you," Wei Ran answered readily. This was his purpose.

"I'll apply for you to help me," Clemont said happily, "I've been in need of a helper for a long time."

"You just said that you sent a letter to a Chinese person?" Wei Ran asked, changing the subject.

"Yes, not long ago."

Clemont said, "That was the second to last letter I was going to send. I couldn't understand those Chinese characters. It took me a long time to find it."

"Is he also in this camp?" Wei Ran continued to ask, "What's that man's name?"

"I remember he said his French name was Louis. He was also in the Paris Commune Battalion, but in the front company."

Clemont recalled, "But that wasn't the name on his letter. Luckily, he was the only Chinese in that company, so it couldn't be sent to the wrong person. Why? Do you want to get to know him?"

"If there is a chance, please introduce us to each other."

Wei Ran asked seemingly casually, "Clemont, what day is it today?"

"8th, November 11th, what happened?" Clemont asked.

November 11? The Battle of Madrid?

Wei Ran immediately realized where he was. He looked up at the setting sun not far away. He had already determined the battlefield he was about to enter.

"nothing"

Wei Ran shook his head, changed the subject and asked, "Do you have my letter?"

"sorry, we do not have that."

Clemont spread his hands. "All the letters I brought have been delivered, but if you want to write to someone, I have some writing paper here."

"It seems like we are about to have a war." Before Wei Ran could finish his words, the sound of intensive gunfire came from the front.

"That's right, we are about to enter the front line."

As Clermont spoke, he left the line and took a few quick steps. Then he raised his camera and shouted loudly in French to Wei Ran, "Hey! Comrade! Look at me!"

As he shouted, the soldiers around Wei Ran looked at him enthusiastically and smiled brightly.

"boom!"

Amid the loud noise of the artillery bombardment, Clemont also pressed the shutter towards the crowd, and then ran to the front of the marching team while blessing loudly, "Victor, survive, I need you to be my helper."

"The same to you!"

Wei Ran wished the other party well loudly, but at the same time he couldn't help but be curious whether the Chinese man with the French name Louis whom the other party had just mentioned was the Yu Yanlin he was looking for.

This question might not be answered in a short time, but the team once again sped up its march, left the town, then passed through a forest, and finally arrived at a position at the edge of the forest at dusk.

Wei Ran is a professional historian after all. Although he doesn't understand Spanish, he has already analyzed it.

The street they just crossed should be the "Grenade Run Avenue" in Madrid. And the position they are filling at this time is the front-line position near the "Pastoral House" National Forest Park in the western suburbs of Madrid.

He even knew that the one directing the defense here at this moment was the unreliable Manfred Stern.

Of course, in this war, compared to the name that caused a lot of trouble in China, his more well-known name at this time should be "General Kleber".

No matter what his name was, this smart guy who had previously worked as a spy in the United States would eventually die digging potatoes in the Gulag.

Of course, Wei Ran also knew very clearly that this smart man would organize the 11th International Brigade to launch a charge against Franco's troops tomorrow night.

Just considering this one position, they did win, but they also lost a full third of the strength of the 11th International Brigade.

But no matter how much he knew, it was useless. All he could do now was to reinforce the trench line with the soldiers who were already guarding here, waving a shovel while the enemy on the opposite side did not launch an attack on them.

As shovelfuls of dirt were piled up on the enemy front, Wei Ran began to enlarge and widen the reverse slope shelter that could only accommodate one person squatting inside - the temperature here was not warm, and he did not want to sleep in the trench.

However, while digging the bunker, he was also looking for the postman Clement.

If the other party could apply in time to let me serve as his assistant, there would be no need to dig a bunker on the back of the trench.

Unfortunately, as the saying goes, the greater the hope, the greater the disappointment. He never saw the postman Clement again until someone brought him a simple dinner and a blanket.

Squatting in the cat ear cave that he had worked so hard to widen, Wei Ran spread out the blanket and draped it over himself, then focused his attention on the dinner he had just received.

The dinner was extremely simple, consisting of two slices of dry bread, a boiled potato, and a bowl of chickpeas with thick soup.

All of this was placed in a small aluminum pan-like container and delivered to his hands along with an aluminum spoon.

If he had not been surrounded by French and German, as well as Spanish, which is extremely similar to French but is ultimately a foreign language, he would have even had the illusion that he had returned to the Soviet front.

Using a spoon, he mashed the soft potatoes and mixed them with the stewed chickpeas to make a paste. Wei Ran picked up a piece of bread as a spoon and scooped a lump of food into his mouth. It didn't taste good, but at least it wasn't bad.

Considering that he didn't know when the next meal would be, he ate this meal very carefully. Even after filling his stomach, he took out the British army's water bottle under the cover of night.

Fortunately, the kettle is full of water.

He stingily poured some into a frying pan-like dishware, and used the aluminum spoon to scrape off the remaining soup and dissolve it in water. In the end, Wei Ran even drank the water used to wash the pot.

Having filled his stomach at least, he then fumbled in the dark and took out the metal notebook, this time containing three pistols, and checked them one by one.

This time the dad was quite open, whether it was the luxurious 1911, the Nagant revolver he got in the labor camp, or the box gun tied to the Long March shoulder pole, they were all loaded with bullets.

After putting them away one by one, Wei Ran finally had time to look through his own body.

Apart from two sealed tubes of spare film, a pack of cigarettes and a box of matches in his pocket, he did not find any personal belongings.

Not really disappointed, he put these things away, wrapped himself tightly in the blanket, lit a cigarette and took the time to rest and recover his strength.

However, before he could finish the cigarette in his hand, Clement called out in French from a distance, "Victor, where is Victor? Victor who can play the harmonica!"

"Here!" Wei Ran immediately called out.

"I finally found you!" Clemont's tone revealed undisguised joy, and he immediately crouched down and ran over along the trench line.

Wei Ran noticed that there was another person following behind him. This person was not very tall, and because of the sky and because there was Clement between them, he could only see this much for the time being.

"Victor, I brought you a friend."

As Clemont spoke, he squatted sideways and asked the people behind him to squat as well, "He is Louis. I asked him and he is also Chinese. You can discuss the rest among yourselves."

"Are you Chinese too?" the person who had just followed Clement asked in Chinese.

"Yes, me too."

Wei Ran nodded. "Let's go to the bunker. Even though it's small, the three of us can at least sit down if we squeeze together. It's also warmer in there."

Hearing this, Clemont and Louis immediately bent down and followed him into the bunker.

Just like Wei Ran said, this shelter was indeed not big. Even after he widened it, it could only accommodate the three of them, sitting against the wall in three different directions.

Even so, even though Wei Ran and Louis who was sitting opposite him subconsciously crossed their legs, and even though Clemont chose to kneel, there was only a space of less than half a meter left between the three of them.

"Use your blankets to block the entrance of the cave," Clemont suggested in a low voice as he took out a kerosene lighter and lit it.

Upon hearing this, Wei Ran and the fellow villager immediately took off the blankets they were wearing, and with the faint light of the lighter, used their respective weapons to hold up the double-layer blanket that served as the door curtain.

At the same time, Clement handed the lighter in his hand to Wei Ran to help hold it, and he took off his blanket and spread it between the three people. Then he took off the German World War I backpack he had been carrying and placed it between the three people.

As the old backpack nicknamed "Monkey" was opened, Wei Ran also noticed that there was a canvas bread bag stuffed in the pocket inside the flap of the backpack, which seemed to be filled with stationery, envelopes and the like.

In the main space of this backpack, there is a smallest fire hand oil lamp, an oil pot and a glass bottle wrapped in a towel and tied tightly with hemp rope.

"Give me"

As Clemont spoke, he took the lighter that Wei Ran helped him hold and lit the oil lamp. Then he put away the lighter and placed the oil lamp in the backpack between the three of them.

"You guys talk about yourselves"

Clemont said as he took out another cylindrical object also wrapped in a towel from his backpack.

Wei Ran and the fellow villager looked at each other, smiled at each other, and then looked at Clement in unison. Obviously, they were all curious about what the postman was going to do.

Clemont just smiled when he saw this, then he took off his towel and took out a cylindrical silver moka pot that was about the same size as the oil lamp. "I just want to treat you to a cup of Italian coffee."

"It would be better if there was pasta," Wei Ran said subconsciously.

“I can’t carry pasta with me.”

As Clemont spoke, he had already unscrewed the glass jar and used the wooden spoon inside to scoop some coffee powder into the shiny moka pot.

Seeing this, Wei Ran and the fellow villager whose French name was Louis withdrew their gazes and looked at each other.

By the light of the oil lamp, he could see clearly that this Louis, like himself, was wearing a beret with a red tassel on his head.

There was only a water bottle, a bullet box and a Mauser bayonet in a scabbard on his belt. He also had a canvas bag slung across his body. Even the weapon he used was a short Mauser rifle made in Spain.

The only difference between the two was that Wei Ran was wearing canvas overalls, a sweater and a leather jacket.

The other person's upper body is a thick khaki double-breasted lapel jacket, and his neck is still exposed under his white suit and dark gray tie. His lower body is wearing a pair of breeches with leggings and a pair of worn leather boots.

As for his appearance, this man, who looked to be no more than 1.7 meters tall, had a very well-proportioned body, and his face was round and firm, so much so that Wei Ran subconsciously thought of Mr. Lu Xun.

"My name is Yu Yanlin, I'm from Shanghai, and I'm 23 years old this year." This man was the first to extend his hand and took the initiative to speak, "What's your name, big brother?"

Sure enough, it's you!

Wei Ran enthusiastically extended his hand and shook it with the other party, "Wei Ran, I'm from Hebei Province, and I'm 27 years old."

"Brother Wei is also from Paris?" Yu Yanlin asked in surprise, "Why didn't I see you when I was receiving training before?"

Wei Ran made up a lie, "I'm from Germany. I just joined this camp yesterday and haven't had time to receive any training yet."

"Germany? You're from Germany?"

Yu Yanlin became more excited. "I was also in Germany before! I studied chemical engineering at the University of Erlangen-Nuremberg, and I went to Paris at the beginning of this year! What about Brother Wei? Did you study in Germany as well?"

"Yes, I am studying theology in Berlin."

Wei Ran lied again and asked in a particularly friendly manner, "Why did Brother Yanlin go to Paris?"

“Work-Study Program”

Yu Yanlin shook his head helplessly. "It's too expensive to study abroad. I have a classmate who went abroad with me and went to Paris. He found a job as a translator there. In the spring, he was going to return to China, so he wrote to me to go over and replace him."

"So you came here?" Wei Ran asked with a smile.

"I worked as a translator for a few months. Later, my employer wanted to join the International Brigade and asked me if I wanted to come with him," Yu Yanlin explained with a smile, "and then I came."

"What a coincidence," Wei Ran sighed.

"yes"

Yu Yanlin said, "I never thought that I would run into a fellow villager just before going to the battlefield."

"yes."

As the aroma of coffee gradually spread, Wei Ran asked worriedly, "Yanlin, can you use a gun? How long have you been trained?"

"Yes, of course I will!"

Yu Yanlin replied, "I have been training for almost a week."

Just one week.

Wei Ran became more worried. After a little thought, he switched to French and asked, "Clemont, how old are you? How long have you been trained?"

"I am 25 years old"

Clemont replied, "I had about a week of training, but I was a postman before I came to Spain."

Who the hell asked you about your job as a postman?

Wei Ran muttered to himself, and then said more directly in French, "In that case, you two should follow me. Once the battle starts, don't get separated from me. Follow me wherever I go."

"Has your brother Wei ever fought in a war?" Yu Yanlin asked. He also switched to speaking French, and he spoke it pretty well.

"At least they should have more experience than you," Wei Ran asked casually, "What about you? Forget about fighting, have you ever been in a fight?"

"Brother Wei, don't underestimate me," Yu Yanlin said proudly in Chinese, "Not only have I fought in wars, I've also killed the devils!"

"Kill what? Have you ever killed Japanese?" Wei Ran also switched back to Chinese and asked in surprise.

"Of course! Can I still deceive you?"

Yu Yanlin said proudly, "At the beginning of the 21st year of the Republic of China, during the January 28 Incident, I followed my eldest brother and killed a few Japanese devils! If I hadn't killed the devils, my father wouldn't have sent me abroad to study."