My family heirloom is a pair of leggings. They were two torn and old canvas, more than ten centimeters wide and nearly three meters long, like an old lady's foot binding. I really don't know how it was connected to "Tao".
It was originally my grandfather's.
Grandpa became the Eighth Route Army when he was a teenager and participated in the Anti-Japanese War. Later, the Eighth Route Army was renamed the People's Liberation Army, and he devoted himself to the Liberation War. Later, Chairman Mao ordered to resist U.S. aid Korea . Grandpa bid farewell to his wife and children to go to the Korean battlefield and became a volunteer army again.
Grandpa's first half of his life was soaked in the smoke of gunpowder. His legs continued to run in the war until April 1951, when the fifth battle began.
Grandpa's troops were responsible for defending Park Dafeng. The US military launched fierce attacks on our positions under the cover of aircraft and cannons. Grandpa's legs were injured by the bombing at that time. Although I was treated later, I still couldn't save it. From then on, his grandfather, who was only thirty years old, was imprisoned in a small wheelchair and began his second half of his life.
Father said that on 1957 Army Day, guests came to the house. He still remembers that the man was also in his thirties, with straight figures, broad shoulders, and handsome facial features. Unfortunately, he had a big scar on his right half of his face, which looked a little scary at first glance.
The person who came to introduce himself first said that he was a staff member of the civil affairs department, his surname was Zhang, and he was here to visit and comfort the revolutionary comrades. Grandpa looked at that face and asked:
"Have you been on the battlefield?"
"Have you been on." Comrade Zhang answered readily.
Grandpa suddenly became happy and held Comrade Zhang's hand like he had not seen a relative for many years. He told grandma to cook a few more dishes as soon as possible and that Comrade Zhang must have dinner at home at noon.
Comrade Zhang waved his hands repeatedly: "No, no, we are here to visit and condolences, we can't stay at others for dinner."
Grandpa pretended to be unhappy, pulled his face and said, "I treat you as a comrade-in-arms and want to keep comrade-in-arms for dinner. If you insist on treating yourself as your leader and not eating the food of our common people, then I can't say anything."
Comrade Zhang could not refuse again when he heard this, so he stayed.
That day, my grandfather was very happy and drank a lot. Under the influence of alcohol, the conversation can't be closed.
He first talked about several major battles on the Korean battlefield, and how friendly the North Korean people were. Then he talked about how his legs were injured and how he had to saw off because of delaying treatment time. Since he talked about his legs, he proudly talked about the marching of Bailiu during the Liberation War, and then flashed back to how he fought guerrillas with the Japanese in the deep mountains and forests during the War of Resistance Against Japan...
Grandpa was talking here, and Comrade Zhang listened quietly there. Grandpa slapped his thighs when he was excited, but he slapped his empty trousers. Now he was like a pissed ball and sighed: "Alas, the victory of the war depends on these two mud legs. Now the legs are gone, and only one pair of gaiters is left." As he said that, he asked his eldest son, my father, to take out the pair of gaiters.
Father asked, "What's the use of these two pieces of cloth when fighting?"
Grandpa said, "At that time, when fighting guerrillas, I often ran in the woods. If I wrapped this, I wouldn't be afraid of being scratched by branches. When I was ambushed, I didn't have to be afraid of insects and snakes drilling into my trouser legs. Also, when I was injured, it could be used as a bandage, and when I needed a stretcher, it could be used as a fixing rope. So, don't be inconspicuous, it can be used as a lot of uses."
Father nodded in a vague way.
Comrade Zhang added: "If you don't play leggings, you will be unable to stand your legs if you walk dozens or hundreds of miles a day."
Grandpa gave the leggings to Comrade Zhang: "Brother, hit one on your legs and let me see."
Comrade Zhang took it over and wrapped it around his legs clumsily. Grandpa stretched his neck and looked at it for a while, laughed and said, "Brother, you are not qualified."
Comrade Zhang blushed and said, "Brother, I'm going to tell you that I'm clumsy, I beat slowly, and I don't beat well. In fact, my life was lucky enough to stay because I couldn't beat my leggings well."
"? Tell me quickly, what's going on? "Grandpa was intrigued, moved his body forward, and stared at Comrade Zhang's mouth.
Comrade Zhang said that it was the Korean battlefield in 1951, and the US military launched a sneak attack in the early morning. The comrades quickly gauntleted their leggings and rushed out, but they were too slow and fell to the end. Unexpectedly, the comrades who rushed out first were encountering the enemy throwing bombs, and they all died. Because they landed at the end, they were only injured by the broken parts of the bomb, saving their lives.
Hearing this, Grandpa asked: "You were also injured in 1951? "
Comrade Zhang nodded, grandpa didn't say anything else. Later, the atmosphere at the table became much more dull.
That night, grandpa probably tossed and turned and did not sleep well because he drank too much. For the next two days, he locked himself in the room without letting anyone disturb him.
In a blink of an eye, it was the 23rd day of the twelfth lunar month. That afternoon, grandma hurriedly ran back from outside, closed several doors tightly, and then lay beside grandpa's ears.
Grandpa frowned and hid his head: "What are you doing sneakily? Say something well. "
Grandma said that it was reported on the street that the civil affairs cadre who came to our house last time was a spy. He was not named Zhang at all. He used someone else's name. The scar on his face was deliberately injured to cover up his true identity.
Grandpa said "Oh" lightly.
Grandma asked anxiously: "He had dinner at our house. We have close contact with the spy. Will there be any trouble? "
Grandpa didn't say anything.
The next day, someone from the Public Security Bureau came. He originally thought it was an investigation of his grandfather, but unexpectedly, they wore a big red flower on his grandfather's chest and said that he was the first to dig out the spy.
It turned out that the so-called Comrade Zhang talked about him escaping the Korean battlefield because of his slow leggings. Grandpa confirmed with him again, it was 51 years, and he became suspicious at that time.
Grandpa said that the war of resistance against Japan and the war of liberation, including the early days of the Korean War, soldiers did gait their legs, but shortly after they arrived in North Korea, they found that the US military used napalm bombs and flamethrower . The fire burned for several hours, and the splashed napalm could stick to the body and the water could not be extinguished. They rolled on the ground according to the conventional method, and the whole body was filled with fire. The only way was It was to take off your clothes. If you still tie your leggings at this time, it would be too delayed. So shortly after entering the Korean battlefield, the volunteers put away all the leggings.
The fifth battle in 51 was the last large-scale battle in the Korean War, and leggings were definitely not fought at that time. Zhang's surname could even say this wrong, which shows that he had never been to the Korean battlefield at all. But why did he lie? Grandpa, who has many years of war experience, thinks that he can't let go of any one. A doubtful point. Although it has been liberated for nearly ten years, enemy spies are still rampant. We should remind relevant departments to pay attention to this person. So he locked himself in the room and wrote a letter, asking my father to throw it into the mailbox.
That day, my grandfather wore a big red flower, and his face was red. He said, "I didn't expect that my legs had made contributions in the war years, and my legs had made contributions in the peace years. From now on, this pair of legs would be the heirloom of our Laotian family. ”
Author Profile: Tian Xuemei, engaged in story creation since 2019, and her works are scattered in "Story Club" and "Story Forest"
