One Thousand One Hundred and Eighty-Four Home

Unlike the war-torn Moscow, on the streets of a small city called Augsburg in southern Germany on the Danube River, everything looks so clean and tidy. m Wonderful Oriental Literature | The spacious road is cleaned spotlessly, and from time to time there are long buses driving slowly along the streets of the city. The sun shines on everyone's face, making this place look peaceful and beautiful.

On the outer wall of the old masonry building, there is a huge red swastika flag that extends from the roof to the ground. On the mottled walls of the streets and alleys, you can see the dilapidated German head of state, Acador Akkado, everywhere. Rudolph's campaign slogan. The bloody typing is printed just below the handsome portrait of the head of state: "Victory or perish!"

Those medieval-style street lamps with patterns stand on both sides of the street, looking as neat as rows of guards. The little boy wearing a student hat and shorts stopped at the French windows next to the store, looking curiously at the various new goods that had appeared inside.

Recently, life in the small town has become better and better. There are better candies, more bread and margarine, and even if you are willing to spend money, you can get luxury goods such as canned sardines and natural butter. Taste. People no longer worry about hunger, and began to pursue a more comfortable life with the banknotes in their hands.

Many families relied on government support and subsidies to buy new radios and beautiful calico clothes, and some richer families even bought really ugly civilian cars. The local civilians might be more satisfied with their lives if the men who were on the front lines could return home.

Victory or perish...Before 1937, this question was like a mountain pressing on the mind of every downcast German, inspiring every German to hold on to the weapons in their hands and fight to the death; but in 1939, this question had disappeared. . Victory after victory makes people elated and eventually numbed. What everyone started talking about was no longer which enemy city the frontline had captured, but which family had received the death notice from the condolence department.

"Hi, go to Avenue 7." When the bus stopped at a stop next to the train station, a soldier in the military uniform of the Wehrmacht squeezed onto the bus with his luggage. He took out some change from his pocket, smiled politely at the driver, and handed a few coins to the conductor at the door.

He wears an Iron Cross on his chest, along with beautiful Battle Wounds Medals, Valorous Battle Medals, Service for the Country Medals, Combat on the Eastern Front Medal, and a St. Rudolph Scramble Medal. Although his military rank is still only a sergeant, not even an officer, he still made the children in the car look at him respectfully.

The soldier who returned from the front line squeezed out a warm smile at the children, and then he was about to pick up his luggage and walk to the empty seat in the back row, but was stopped by a beautiful female conductor with blonde curly hair: "Mr. , you have three free tickets on your body, so I can't collect your fare.

"

Because of the long war, Germany promulgated various policies for returning soldiers, including free rides, free train tickets, medical insurance, and various subsidies and benefits enjoyed by their families. These policies guaranteed the morale of German soldiers fighting bravely on the front line, and also improved the national welfare system in the rear, laying the foundation for a series of people's livelihood development after the war.

The soldier was obviously taken aback, then put down the luggage in his hand, took the change from the other party, smiled politely at the beautiful conductor, and said thank you, then picked up the luggage and walked to the car back row. The little boys in front turned their heads and looked at the medal on his chest curiously, as if they were looking at a general returning from victory.

The car moved slowly in the sun, and the frequency of the bumps and shakes made the soldier close his eyes unconsciously. The continuous roar of the machine guns on the front line seemed to be heard again in my ears, as well as those helpless roars and the crisp sound of bullet casings jumping out of the gun chamber. His head swayed slightly back and forth with the frequency of the car shaking, as if he was sitting on an armored car driving to the front line, and it was also the familiar roar of the engine. There are countless comrades in arms making noise.

"Griff! Ammo! Ammo! Griff! Cover me, shoot at that window! Fire! Fire! . . . God! You're shot . . . The enemy is coming, Griff! Fire!" Shouts echoed in his ears, causing the young soldier who fell asleep to frown involuntarily. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and he was terrified of everything in the dream.

"Sir! Sir! 7th Street is here!" When he was struggling in the dream, a sweet voice called him back from the illusion. The young soldier opened his eyes and saw the beautiful curly-haired female conductor smiling. Looking at him, the career line protruding from the bending made his cheeks flush instantly.

"I saw you fell asleep, so I came to wake you up...Are you okay? Are you uncomfortable?" The female conductor obviously didn't notice the young soldier's embarrassment, and still bent down and asked, "Do you need our help?"

"Thanks...thank you!" The young soldier called Griff hurriedly stood up, arranged his military uniform in a panic, then picked up his luggage, nodded his thanks to the conductor, and then hurriedly got out of the car .

The bus parked on the side of No. 7 Avenue started up again in a blink of an eye, and the beautiful conductor also walked back to his seat, shaking his head regretfully to the driver beside him and said: "It's pretty cool, what a pity."

Griff, who watched the bus go away from the street, carried his luggage and walked slowly along the sidewalk paved with gravel. It was the same as when he left, and almost nothing had changed. After all, it was only a short period of one and a half years. For a city that does not have much heavy industry, it is not easy to change beyond recognition.

However, a small city has its advantages. The quiet life here is not so easy to be broken. Griff walks slowly like this. He doesn’t have to be afraid of bullets coming from around the corner, and he doesn’t have to worry about being unlucky and stepping on a landmine. This feeling It's already very good, at least for him, it's very good.

Suddenly he froze for a moment, and then stopped in front of a window. He looked at a beautiful national flag planted in the gap of the window. There was a small wreath hanging at the end of the flagpole, and inside the wreath hung a small wreath. Two white ribbons.

Griff didn't know this family, but a family that could put something like this in the window meant that someone in the family had died on the front line. It could have been the man of the house, or it could have been a husband or a young son, whoever it was, the family is now broken, and everyone alive will remember the departed.

An old woman in the window saw Griff, with a trace of sadness on her wrinkled face. Griff nodded, and then continued walking forward with his luggage. He didn't dare to wait for the old man to open the window, because he was afraid of hearing an unfamiliar name, and afraid of being asked again and again if he had ever heard of someone really dying.

The surrounding scenery became more and more familiar, and more and more urgent. This was the home he had left for more than a year, and there were his father and mother who loved him here. He likes the familiar taste of potato stew, the soft bed he is familiar with, the cute younger brothers and sisters he is familiar with... I hope that everything at home is really as stated in the letter, and everything is fine.

Before he knew it, Griff slowed his pace and became frightened. He hadn't heard of the famous verse "The closer you are to the country, the more timid you are", but he felt his own feelings. Walking slowly, he walked to the front of the familiar yard, pushed aside the slightly old fence, and looked at the gate that he had pushed open countless times.

"My God! Griff? Is that you?" A woman wiped her wet hands on her apron, opened the door and looked at the young man who had changed dramatically in the yard. She ran to His own son hugged the resolute and strong son tightly in his arms. For such a long time, she has been thinking about it day and night, going to church on time every day to pray, just to allow her son to return safely.

At this moment, it seemed that all the previous prayers and wishes had been fulfilled, God heard her voice! The mother, who was already in her forties, burst into tears at this moment, crying bitterly while holding her son.

Griff threw the luggage at his feet, and gently stroked his mother's back with his hands. He really wanted to hug his favorite relative with both hands, but the empty sleeve of his right hand made him Can't get what I want. He had no choice but to comfort his mother softly, whispering the softest words in a voice that had become rough from roaring on the battlefield: "Mom! I'm back!"

Hearing the voice in the yard, the slightly old and strong man pushed open the half-covered door, stood on the steps and looked down at his wife hugging his son. When he saw the empty sleeve, he was obviously taken aback. But soon he held back his tears from falling. His son is back, returning with honor from far away battles...sadly - not all of them.

With red eyes, the man staggered down the steps and walked to his wife and son. He stretched out his thick arms and hugged the two of them: "It's okay! It's okay! God bless! Just come back Just come back!"

------------------

I still owe everyone 3 updates, Long Ling will make up as soon as possible... Thank you for your waiting and support... Thank you!

p

<