The hat badge is taken off, the collar badge is taken off, and our soldiers have completed the mission of the soldiers and are going to retire.
In the last few days of the company, everyone was nervously handling the discharge procedures and handover tasks. It is actually very simple to say that the task of handing over is to clean up personal belongings, and all public property of the troops will be handed over; due to the particularity of the troops, the relevant reading materials and materials of the troops, personal notebooks, etc., are not allowed to be taken away by a word.
The military trumpets we heard, except for eating and turning off the lights, had nothing to do with us. In other words, we can not stand guard, do not go to morning exercises, and do not go to class. In a word, it is possible not to participate in the duties and activities of the company.
Homesick. Since joining the army, I have never been so homesick as I am now, my heart is itchy, and I hate that I can't leave immediately. I really paid for the taste of eating and sleeping, imagining the appearance of my parents and sisters and siblings, the villages and houses in my hometown, a row of poplar trees outside the yard, and even a large road outside the village.
In the night sleep, everyone was awakened by the emergency assembly signal. We were not moving, and the soldiers were getting dressed.
Who knew that after the trumpet sounded twice, a shouting voice was heard: "Emergency notice, emergency notice, XX warehouse fire, please comrades hurry up to fight the fire!" The shouts were repeated over and over again.
Suddenly, the lights came on, and those of us who had withdrawn from the establishment also got dressed.
Next, under the leadership of the company commander, he walked about two kilometers to reach his destination and participate in the fire fighting...
It was not until the dawn of the morning that the flames were completely extinguished that everyone turned back to the barracks. The mud and water on the clothes turned into armor in the cold wind.
Decades later, I often think of this mission—the last mission of my military career.
Write at the end.
All along, thinking about writing about some life or anecdotes when I was in the army, I didn't dare to submit articles because of my writing ability. Fortunately, the Hundred Houses did not abandon the ugly work, so they tried their best to write out and meet with everyone. Confined to the influence of returning to the customs and housework with netizens, I had to squeeze in time and try to do it, and today I will start with this article.
I also ask my friends to help them in terms of written language and logical thinking.
The image comes from the Internet, and the infringement notice is deleted.