One Thousand Seventy-Seven Disabled Companies

After sending the officer away, Harold sat on his sofa, ready to accept his wife's roar.

Unexpectedly, his wife just sat beside him helplessly, sighing to herself.

"I know you're worried about me, but if I stay here like this, even my own son thinks I'm useless." Harold finally spoke to comfort his wife.

"But you know, going to the battlefield will be more dangerous." The woman still doesn't want her husband to take risks.

Going to an ordinary battlefield is already very dangerous, but going to space this time is even more dangerous.

"Who said that? I can install a puppet prosthesis and use magic... This time I have the ability to protect my comrades." Harold squeezed a smile and looked at his wife.

"What I'm afraid of is that you will go out and act recklessly!" The wife looked at her husband even more worriedly, very unwilling to let him go away from her again.

"Don't worry! I will come back alive." The man looked at his ordinary wife with pity on his face: "I still have to take care of you and the child! Don't think about it!"

He patted the woman's shoulder lightly: "Go! Take out the clothes I put in the closet! Let our son see his father's most handsome appearance!"

Although the woman was reluctant, she glanced at the accepted conscription form sent by the officer on the table, sighed helplessly, and stood up.

The boy stood there, he didn't know why his father suddenly became fierce today, and he didn't know what kind of news the soldier who came to find his father brought.

At this age, he still doesn't know what choice his father made for this family.

The wife easily found the carefully folded clothes in the cabinet. Early the next morning, she stood beside her husband virtuously and helped him put on the clothes that had been worn since he came back to this home. Military uniforms that have never been worn.

It was a retired military uniform without epaulettes or armbands, a non-commissioned officer's dress.

The man stood up straight, with his chin raised, and asked his wife to help him fasten the buttons on his neckline. Then he glanced at his empty sleeves, with a hint of sadness on his face.

If this arm is still there, he should still be on the front line of the Demon Realm,

Fight side by side with your comrades.

After he sighed in his heart, he saw his wife carefully helping him put the medals that were kept in the drawer on his chest.

Those are all incomparably precious medals, they are all medals returned from bloodshed and sacrifice on the battlefield, and they are all the enviable proof of warriors.

"Listen to your mother at home." Before going out, Harold rubbed his son's head, and told him with the words he asked adults: "Be strong! Dad is not at home, you are the only man in the family! Take care of mom! take care of yourself!"

The little boy nodded, but still didn't speak. Harold glanced at his wife again: "I will leave the family to you..."

"Come back safely!" His wife twitched the corners of her mouth, trying to force a smile, but failed. Tears fell, and Harold turned around, not daring to look at his wife's ordinary face anymore.

In the morning, Harold waited for his puppet prosthesis. He once again had two hands, and one of his arms could use magic. His fighting power was astonishing!

He took a helicopter, and when he arrived at a temporary barracks that night, many veterans who had returned to serve had already gathered there.

The entire barracks was very lively, because the training had not yet started, so ale was even provided in the barracks. There was laughter everywhere, as if it were a veterans' fraternity.

Harold looked at those people who considered returning to the battlefield as a lucky journey, while walking on the road that was not spacious in the barracks.

"The medal for participating in the Battle of Falling Dragon City! You are awesome! You have seniority!" A man with a puppet prosthetic left foot recognized the medal on Harold's chest with a look of envy.

Several veterans standing beside the man looked over subconsciously, and Harold was startled by the medals worn by some of them.

He thought that a medal for participating in the Battle of Falling Dragon City would be enough to make him stand out from the crowd, but what he didn't expect was that he could see such a high-end product as the Golden Eagle Medal here!

That's a real sword, a real gun, the future of desperately fighting to get back on the battlefield! It stands to reason that the owner of such a medal, even if he is wounded and discharged from the army, should have an excellent job.

But this man with the Golden Eagle Medal had a disapproving expression on his face, as if the medal was nothing to him at all.

Then, Harold saw the Silver Eagle Medal, the Holy Demon Battlefield Service Medal, the Standing Ground Medal, and the Enemy Killing Medal...

He also saw the first batch of service medals, the second batch of service medals...and the third batch of service medals he was carrying on his body.

This place seems to be a museum of medals. Every veteran wears various medals with a proud expression on his face.

Of course, along with these medals, there are puppet prosthetics for the left arm, puppet prosthetics for the right arm, puppet prosthetics for the left leg, and puppet prosthetics for the right leg.

Some people's left eyes are fake, some people's right eyes are fake. In addition to the medal museum, it is also a prosthetic exhibition hall.

Harold raised his prosthetic arm uncomfortably. On that very flexible hand, five fingers moved regularly according to his thoughts.

"Brother! Do you know the name of our army?" A familiar veteran walked up to Harold and asked with a smile.

"I just came to report, and I don't know the number and name of the unit..." Harold replied a little cautiously.

"We are called cosmic infantry here! Infantry flying in the sky! Hahaha!" Holding a glass of beer, the familiar veteran shouted to the people next to him with a big laugh.

"Hahaha!" As if hearing some joke, several veterans laughed together.

This joke may not be very good, but everyone here needs to vent, vent their joy of returning to the barracks.

"Maybe it's more appropriate to call it the disabled company." Harold shrugged and said casually.

Suddenly, the laughter and laughter around stopped, and everyone who heard this sentence looked at Harold.

Just when the atmosphere was about to become awkward, the veteran who was holding Harold with a prosthetic arm and holding beer suddenly raised his glass: "Hahahaha! To the disabled company!"

"Haha!" Everyone continued to laugh, as if they had heard some particularly funny joke.

Harold also grinned, this is the place he is familiar with, this is the place that belongs to him...