it started to annoy the company commander. The commander stretched out his hand and gave him a wicked slap across the face. “Stop with the fucking bullshit and go pull the cannon!” he ordered. He looked at me: “You, too!”
I had no choice, so I grabbed hold of one of the horses’ reins and went with them. I thought, when the time comes I’ll find an opportunity to escape. The servant was still up front pleading with the commander. After walking a ways, the commander surprisingly granted his wish.
“Okay, okay, you can leave,” he said. “Little bastard’s annoying the hell out of me!”
The servant was so happy, I thought he was going to kneel down and
kowtow to the commander. But he didn’t kneel, he just kept wringing his hands as he stood before the commander. The company commander said, “What the hell are you waiting for? Get the hell out of here!”
The servant said, “Yes, yes, I’m just leaving.”
As the servant finished he turned around and left. The commander took his pistol from his holster, and, straightening his arm and closing one eye, took aim at the servant. The servant had taken over ten steps when he turned around to take a look. What he saw shocked him, and he stood there without moving. Like a sparrow in the night he let the commander take his aim. It was then that the commander said to him, “Get going! Walk!”
The servant thumped to the ground. kneeling, he called out through his tears, “Company commander, company commander, commander.”
The commander fired a shot at him. It didn’t hit him, but a ricocheting rock cut his hand. His hand started to bleed. The commander waved his gun at the servant saying, “Stand up, stand up.”
He stood up, and the company commander said, “Get out of here, go!”
He cried repentantly, stammering as he spoke, “Commander, I’ll pull the cannon.”
The commander extended his arm again and for a second time took aim, saying, “You’d better start running!”
And then, as if the servant suddenly understood, he turned around and began to run like hell. Just as the commander fired off a second shot, the servant ran into an alley. Looking at his gun, the commander cursed, “Fuck, I closed the wrong eye.”
The company commander turned around and, seeing me standing behind him, approached me with his gun held out. He pressed the barrel of the pistol against my chest and said, “You can leave, too.”
My legs began to tremble uncontrollably. I figured even if he closed both eyes this time, he’d still send me to heaven with a single bullet. I pleaded, “I’ll pull the cannon, I’ll pull the cannon.”
With my right hand I grabbed the reins; with my left I firmly grasped the two silver coins in my pocket that Jiazhen had given me. As we left the city I saw some thatched huts in the fields that looked like mine. I lowered my head and began to cry.
I went north with this cannon battalion, and the more we walked the farther away we got. A month later we arrived in Anhui province. The first couple of days all I wanted to do was run away, and at the time I was not the only one with desertion in mind. Every couple days, one or two familiar faces would be missing from the battalion. I wondered if they really had run away, so I asked a veteran soldier called Old Quan.
“Nobody gets away,” explained Old Quan.
Old Quan asked me if I heard those shots fired at night while we were asleep, and I said I’d heard them. He told me, “Those are your deserters. Even the lucky ones who aren’t shot end up being caught by other units.”
As Old Quan spoke, my heart froze. Old Quan told me he was conscripted during the War of Resistance. When his troop set out for Jiangxi he deserted, but within a few days he was conscripted again by the troop going to Fujian. By then he had been in the army six years and had yet to fight the Japanese. All he’d fought were communist guerrilla detachments. During his period of conscription, Old Quan had
I had no choice, so I grabbed hold of one of the horses’ reins and went with them. I thought, when the time comes I’ll find an opportunity to escape. The servant was still up front pleading with the commander. After walking a ways, the commander surprisingly granted his wish.
“Okay, okay, you can leave,” he said. “Little bastard’s annoying the hell out of me!”
The servant was so happy, I thought he was going to kneel down and
kowtow to the commander. But he didn’t kneel, he just kept wringing his hands as he stood before the commander. The company commander said, “What the hell are you waiting for? Get the hell out of here!”
The servant said, “Yes, yes, I’m just leaving.”
As the servant finished he turned around and left. The commander took his pistol from his holster, and, straightening his arm and closing one eye, took aim at the servant. The servant had taken over ten steps when he turned around to take a look. What he saw shocked him, and he stood there without moving. Like a sparrow in the night he let the commander take his aim. It was then that the commander said to him, “Get going! Walk!”
The servant thumped to the ground. kneeling, he called out through his tears, “Company commander, company commander, commander.”
The commander fired a shot at him. It didn’t hit him, but a ricocheting rock cut his hand. His hand started to bleed. The commander waved his gun at the servant saying, “Stand up, stand up.”
He stood up, and the company commander said, “Get out of here, go!”
He cried repentantly, stammering as he spoke, “Commander, I’ll pull the cannon.”
The commander extended his arm again and for a second time took aim, saying, “You’d better start running!”
And then, as if the servant suddenly understood, he turned around and began to run like hell. Just as the commander fired off a second shot, the servant ran into an alley. Looking at his gun, the commander cursed, “Fuck, I closed the wrong eye.”
The company commander turned around and, seeing me standing behind him, approached me with his gun held out. He pressed the barrel of the pistol against my chest and said, “You can leave, too.”
My legs began to tremble uncontrollably. I figured even if he closed both eyes this time, he’d still send me to heaven with a single bullet. I pleaded, “I’ll pull the cannon, I’ll pull the cannon.”
With my right hand I grabbed the reins; with my left I firmly grasped the two silver coins in my pocket that Jiazhen had given me. As we left the city I saw some thatched huts in the fields that looked like mine. I lowered my head and began to cry.
I went north with this cannon battalion, and the more we walked the farther away we got. A month later we arrived in Anhui province. The first couple of days all I wanted to do was run away, and at the time I was not the only one with desertion in mind. Every couple days, one or two familiar faces would be missing from the battalion. I wondered if they really had run away, so I asked a veteran soldier called Old Quan.
“Nobody gets away,” explained Old Quan.
Old Quan asked me if I heard those shots fired at night while we were asleep, and I said I’d heard them. He told me, “Those are your deserters. Even the lucky ones who aren’t shot end up being caught by other units.”
As Old Quan spoke, my heart froze. Old Quan told me he was conscripted during the War of Resistance. When his troop set out for Jiangxi he deserted, but within a few days he was conscripted again by the troop going to Fujian. By then he had been in the army six years and had yet to fight the Japanese. All he’d fought were communist guerrilla detachments. During his period of conscription, Old Quan had
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