Hou Liangping arrested a hawkish general, and his father-in-law panicked

They had been in the military their entire lives, and had thought of countless contingency plans, but none of them had dared to be spoken so bluntly, so...

bloody!

Hawkish General!

After a few seconds of dead silence, an almost insane, hysterical cry broke out in the auditorium!

"beat!"

“Fight together!!”

"Defend the country!!!"

The students went crazy.

The young students of the Supreme Military Advisory School will all be military officers in the future. They are young, patriotic, and passionate!

Zhao Yuanchao looked at the frenzy in front of him, his face still expressionless.

He waited for the noise to subside a bit before continuing, his voice cold with impatience.

"Of course, Wanzai once said that if we break in, we'll have to fight street battles. If we break in, it will be brutal street fighting. Every building and every street will be filled with the lives of our soldiers."

He sneered, his laughter filled with extreme contempt for such an argument.

"Street fighting? Who's fighting a street fight with Wan Chai?"

He raised his eyes and looked at a group of ignorant children and a group of stupid ants.

“Why are there street fights?”

He asked back, his voice was not loud, but it hit everyone's heart like a hammer.

He paused for a moment, giving everyone a chance to think, and then, in a matter-of-fact, matter-of-fact tone, uttered the devilish whisper that would go down in history.

"Missiles washing the ground."

"Isn't there no alley?"

card.

Video interrupted.

Sha Ruijin, Gao Yuliang, Qi Tongwei and others in the conference room could not calm down for a long time!

Chapter 18 The Departing Green Train

Inside the provincial party committee building.

Sha Ruijin, Gao Yuliang, and Li Dakang remained silent for a long time.

No one spoke.

No one could speak.

Zhou Shoujing didn't look at them again.

He slowly turned around, his back facing the most powerful group of people in Handong Province, like a silent iron tower.

He didn't give them any more time to think and weigh the pros and cons.

He simply picked up the remote control on the table, pointed at the dark screen, and gently pressed the play button.

No foreshadowing, no opening credits.

The screen suddenly lit up, making people's eyes hurt.

This time, it was no longer General Zhao Yuanchao.

It is not the ice and snow of Changjin Lake.

The picture is in black and white, with a strong graininess and the roughness unique to that era.

A train platform.

The steam locomotive spewed out thick white smoke, shrouding the entire platform in a hazy haze.

The camera shook, sweeping across faces that looked too young.

They were wearing thin cotton military uniforms, crooked military caps, carrying simple bags, and squeezed at the door of the sealed carriage.

They had smiles on their faces, some showed their white teeth and waved at the camera; some were pushing and shoving each other with their comrades. This was just an ordinary journey.

A childish soldier, who looked no more than sixteen or seventeen years old, was struggling to stuff a letter into the hands of a cadre-looking man under the train, shouting something, but his words were drowned out by the noisy whistle and human voices.

Another soldier leaned against the side of the carriage, holding a half-eaten, frozen hard steamed bun in his hand, but his eyes looked beyond the noisy crowd into the distance, with a calmness that was almost resolute and inconsistent with his age.

"Every word you say must be kept!"

"When the sword is unsheathed, blood will be drawn!"

Slogans came intermittently from different carriages, converging into an irregular but extremely firm torrent.

That was the oath-taking ceremony of the 20th Army before entering North Korea.

There is no passionate soundtrack, only the chaotic and real sounds recorded on the spot.

That rusty train.

The simple platform was crowded with people, including young soldiers in thin cotton coats and fellow villagers who came to see them off.

There were no passionate slogans, no enthusiastic banners.

There are only faces that are young and even a little childish.

Many of them looked no more than seventeen or eighteen years old, and the hair on their faces had not yet faded.

They smiled, showing their white teeth, trying hard to show their most energetic side to their families.

But behind that smile lies the fear of the unknown and the confusion about life and death.

A soldier was clumsily stuffing a neatly folded letter from home into his chest pocket. He patted it and realized he was carrying some rare treasure.

Another soldier, through the car window, waved vigorously at a young woman holding a baby.

He had a bright smile on his face and was shouting something, but the sound of the whistle drowned out everything.

The woman didn't cry, but just bit her lips tightly and pressed the child's face against the cold car window, wanting him to see his father again.

"Baby's dad! I'll wait for you to come back!"

At that moment, Sha Ruijin burst into tears.

He had never seen this scene before, but it seemed extremely familiar to him!

The train started moving slowly.

Pairs of hands stretched out of the window, grasping at the air in vain.

The faces stuck to the glass gradually became blurred.

On the platform, the suppressed crying finally broke out, filling the air with noise.

The camera follows the train away and finally freezes on that desolate land.

"The Ninth Corps, an elite force originally scheduled to fight in Taiwan."

Zhou Shoujing's voice rang out, steady and without ripples, stating a fact that had nothing to do with him. "Due to the urgent situation in the Korean War, we were ordered to march north. This included the 20th Army."

Gao Yuliang's breathing stopped for a moment, almost inaudibly.

He saw the shadow of his own youth in those young faces.

In that era, ideals and beliefs were the air, the water, and the food that kept everyone alive.

Like these soldiers, they believed that they could use their flesh and blood to create a new world.

But what happened next?

Later, ideals were worn away by repeated changes of power and exchanges of interests, and beliefs became mottled by the day-to-day comings and goings and intrigues.

He has become what he is today, a famous professor at Handong University, deputy secretary of the provincial party committee, and a leader of the "Handong Gang" who is good at maintaining a balance among various forces.

How long had it been since he thought of himself, the one wearing a washed-out blue shirt and writing passionately in class?

His hands on his knees curled up unconsciously, and his knuckles turned slightly white due to the force.

Sha Ruijin's expression became increasingly solemn.

He doesn't have as many complicated thoughts as Gao Yuliang.

As the highest official in this land, he saw a pure and untainted sacrifice.

These volunteers didn't even know what they were about to face.

It is an enemy armed to the teeth, it is the severe cold of minus 40 degrees Celsius, and it is death that may come at any time.

They only know that the country needs them.

So they went.

There is no turning back.

What a powerful force this is?

What a heavy responsibility this is!

And now, on this land that they guarded with their lives, Zhao Yuanchao, the contemporary commander of this heroic unit, has disappeared, and the whereabouts of six special agents are unknown!

This is simply blasphemy.

A public humiliation to those 37,421 heroic souls!

Sha Ruijin's chest heaved violently, and a burning sense of shame rushed from the bottom of his heart to his forehead.

He is incompetent as the provincial party secretary!

The scene suddenly changed.

The train disappeared, replaced by an endless snowfield.

The soldiers marched in long columns, trudging through knee-deep snow.

The wind and snow scraped at their faces like knives, and everyone's eyebrows, hats, and collars were covered with frost.

There was no dialogue, only the whistling wind and the heavy and suppressed breathing of the soldiers.