Chapter 1115: Grief

Back to the wasteland, the smoke was not dispersed, but the battle situation has been determined. Of the thousands of people in Bann, more than 2,000 backbone forces are retreating, and black servants who have lost command are scrambling everywhere. Thousands of corpses remained on the battlefield, but the Aurora Corps was unable to pursue them, and could only clean the battlefield.
'Winter Frost' disappeared directly in front of Zhou Qingfeng's eyes. Although the nearby Marco Shi felt strange, he said nothing. Zhou Qingfeng asked it to chase the remnant enemy, and the mutant leader immediately burst into joy. He carried a machine gun and sang, and rushed forward with his men.
The power armor has been broken, and it is hard to imagine a girl who was timid, scared, and fainted at the sight of blood. She had to develop a second personality in order to survive. Zhou Qingfeng stood by the armored torso for a long time-how vast the world is, but few people can understand him.
"Fuck, I was a waste wood that I couldn't even find at work. Afraid!" Zhou Qingfeng didn't want to look at the power armor again, at most it just made people pack it up.
Alone on the battlefield, Zhou Qingfeng slowly walked back to his own area. Xiang Ming and his team were sweeping the battlefield, and saw Zhou Qingfeng appearing a boulder that finally let go of his heart—the net worth of more than 200,000 people looked at the big man, but the big man ran to the battlefield.
Too hateful!
Before seeing Zhou Qingfeng, Xiang Ming had something to say, and even wanted to scold him. But when Zhou Qingfeng, who was exhausted, really appeared, everyone respected him, and no one wanted to blame him for a moment.
Thousands of people in Bann came over, and as a result, Uncle Zhou cut the melon and chopped vegetables. This was a legend. You know that he didn't use any high-tech weapons, airships, propeller fighters, and transport aircraft that were converted into attack aircraft. Everything seemed to be a joke.
The power of another house has long been beaten by Ban En, but it was ashamed to meet Zhou Qingfeng. This victory gave great confidence to the Chinese in Angola. In particular, knowing that 'Winter Frost' is finished, it is also a cause of jubilation.
Just others cheering, Zhou Qingfeng himself was lonely. Walking to the bridge where the corpses were hanging, many people were about to drop the power pole, and he immediately said in a deep voice: "Stop first, go to a videographer and take pictures of these corpses."
Someone advised: "These corpses have died so badly, they don't look good. It's better to put them down and fix them."
"Bad? Don't be afraid of death if you fight." Zhou Qingfeng's words could not be shaken. "If we can one day establish a Chinese nation in Africa, we must always show a few photos to show. Tell future generations not to think everything It was in vain. Some people died so badly in order to establish the country. "
"Yes, take it." Xiang Ming also expressed his support. "Not only will we take photos, we will also have funerals for these martyrs, grand funerals."
When it comes to funerals, it is really necessary to have a grand and solemn memorial service. The momentum must be great, the scene must be great, and it is extremely glorious. Everyone in Luanda who is not on the job must participate, and do everything possible to give the martyrs the greatest honor.
After taking the picture, the body was lowered. Wash the dirt with water, cover the wound as much as possible, and even change the body to clean clothes.
There are no ready-made coffins, but only a few wooden boards can be easily nailed. The body was placed in it, and Zhou Qingfeng personally carried the coffin back to the city. In external propaganda, the tortured martyrs were sacrificed to resist the brutal forces of Bann.
The news of a memorial service was spread on the radio, and on the way back from the coffin, people gathered gradually. The compatriots who got the news rushed over and stood on both sides. There is no white flower, no sorrow, but a calm and mourning atmosphere, which is depressing and touching.
At this moment, there are already thousands of Chinese in Luanda, thousands of expeditions, and thousands of white women waiting to be transferred, and the most are tens of thousands of blacks.
Sardin, who was recently imprisoned, was also asked to see him off. When receiving this order, Sardin and other black people who accepted the transformation did not dare to say anything on the surface, but their hearts were all defamatory-wasn't it just a few people dead? Where is Africa now and when is it dead?
When you die, you can bury it. You can even throw it into the wilderness. How simple! What are we going to do now? Still holding a memorial service? Still commemorating? What are these Chinese people thinking? It really doesn't work!
Complaining with a belly, Sardin was rushed to a memorial service stand. This work is not enough, there is disciplinary staring next to it, if you do not work well, criticize it, and close it to the small black house.
There are no wreaths, no cypresses, and even blank paper can't be found for the time being. People can only find wooden boards and engrave a pair of couplets to show their hearts. The form can be simple, but sadness is not random. While Sardin was busy rushing to work, the site of the memorial service began to gather one after another.
"Wow, why are there so many people here?" Sardin was setting up a wooden table with a hammer in his hand. He looked around the temporarily selected venue, puzzled? This is just a relatively wide street, nothing special from a location point of view.
There were a lot of uncleaned and rubble on the street, and people who came came to carry the obstacles by themselves. Everyone was silent, only the energy of hard work.
This silent scene made Sardin afraid to talk casually, but he saw that the usual fierce discipline also became embarrassed, as if he was hungry for three days and three nights without eating.
Slowly, when Sardin set up the wooden platform, he pulled a few heavy artillery around the venue. Really heavy artillery! Moreover, there is no empty ammunition, so it is simply loaded with live ammunition, or it is fully charged. The sound of cannons was rumbling, the ground was thundering, and the horrors that scared black people such as Sardin were trembling. Don't know what to do?
Soon in the sound of artillery, a slow-paced team appeared in the distance, with a simple coffin carried by the crowd in front of them, and hundreds or thousands of farewells behind. Sardin watched them move at a very slow, very slow pace, just a few hundred meters, and walked for more than half an hour.
On both sides of the road and on the venue, there were cries gradually, and a lot of old men cried. Sardin boldly asked the discipline, "Why are you crying? Are your legions dead?"
"Nonsense, the head of our legion is alive and well. The person who carried the coffin in front of him is him. The dead are our good brothers. They died for us. We are very uncomfortable." I still don't understand.
It ’s not that the leader is dead. How could you cry like this? Sardin didn't understand. What he didn't understand was how the death of a soldier could cause such a movement? African powers have never fought such a big battle for the death of an insignificant person.
Only under the rhythm of cannons and footsteps, the coffin-raising team has arrived under the wooden platform. One after another came forward to bow to the martyrs in the coffin. The atmosphere of reverence, sadness, and reflection reached its climax.
Watching countless people approach the dead with high respect, all the black people standing nearby as a foil are collectively dazed.
Sardin dreamed that one day he could sit on a high platform and feel the respect and awe of others, although he really did not understand what a few corpses had to do to bow ~ EbookFREE.me ~ but this did not prevent him from entering the atmosphere at the scene Medium-how good would it be if the person accepting the bow is me now?
No, no, I don't want to accept such respect after becoming dead!
But ... if it can be remembered by so many people after death, can accept the love of thousands of people, even command the millions of people, and control the tens of thousands of people to lift the coffin in person, this seems good!
Substituting this, Sardin suddenly shuddered in this body, and never felt in his brain. A tingling pleasure rushed straight from the tailbone to the heavenly spirit cover, as if he would have died, and accepted the worship of the crowd just as the soul left the body.
I am also a little person. If I can be admired in this way, it seems that life has not been alive. Such a lifetime should be recorded in history! Such a life is great!
Suddenly, Sadin cried in tears. When the tears flowed, the disciples around him saw that he was wiping with his hands, and asked in amazement, "Sardin, what are you crying for?"
Sardin also couldn't say clearly. He was just sad, and said with tears: "I suddenly thought it would be good if I could die like this. But I am a black man, why am I crying?"