Chapter 39 thirty eight bernard

A few days in Kolkata is usually a rare treat.Get a good night's sleep on a Bristol bed with cotton sheets.Will definitely dine at Redlow.The best china (after the nasty tin cups) rings out with a crisp civility.There might also be a chance to shop Army and Navy or even Hoag Market.Catch a movie at Universal or Royal.Some people drink cold beer at the Mud Wave Inn.For those who can dance, it is to dance on Feibo.Or just like the young brothers, sitting lazily on the grass and watching the girls pass by quietly. But this trip to Calcutta was the most memorable one. Everyone looked bewildered when every mechanic in our RAF was handed out a rifle.The Master Chief roared: Put the bayonet on.What about ammunition?We all want to know.He told us: no ammunition.Get us in the truck.Tell us to stand in a straight line.Then they were driven across the street.

The ruins of the store first came into view.burnt out.smoldering.Embers fluttered in the wind like tropical snowflakes.Merchandise is everywhere.Items that should have been in the store were dumped out into the street.Looted.Pick it up to see the price, then throw it away.But there was not a single native in sight.Not even a begging child was on the way.Even those who have never been to Calcutta know that this is an eerie scene in India. On the next street, the sight in front of them made many people gasp.The same burned shops and showers of ash, but there were dead bodies between the shops and the ashes.Those bodies lay on every road we walked.Some could be mistaken for a bundle of rags.or discarded garbage.Others can't be mistaken.Stop in a silly pose.One hand is held high, and one leg is lifted up.Mostly with a terrified expression.He opened his mouth wide.But all stiffened by sudden death.The brothers looked at each other.Damn it.More than one muttered.It was as brutal as anything witnessed in wartime.His face was pale, his eyes were closed, and he did not want to see some of these scenes.The bulldog worried about the bloody clothes of the dead.The mouth is covered with blood, just like a baby's mouth is covered with chocolate.Flocks of vultures (servants of death) arch their backs and compete for human flesh.Torn tendons, pecked at eyes.

I don't know who started it first.But we all silently agree that it has nothing to do with us.Riots by the locals.A blood-stained coolie slit each other's throats for something.Hindus anti-Muslims.Muslims against Hindus.Even those nasty Sikhs were in the mix.Was seen blowing loudly from a conch shell with a sword.Before long it all became clear.Truckload after truckload of stern-faced RAF rookies is going to be there to separate them. The stench was as pungent as a toothache.It doesn't matter headwind or headwind.There's no one direction to temper that smell.Terrible, to be inhaled into living lungs.Some brothers tore off strips of cloth from old T-shirts to cover their mouths and noses.I would rather inhale the sweat of a rookie.The Master Chief immediately ordered them to take off their masks.Take the mask off your face.You look like dead robbers.

Many of us have stumbled and fallen when truck wheels wobbled.The car stopped.The driver leaned out the window and looked back.He just ran over a dead body.One arm was still stuck under the wheel.You still have you, pick that up.The Master Chief ordered two men to pick up the corpse we had just run over.One of them (the troublemaker, Pilpo, known to his friends as the Nail) stood perfectly still, just looking at the Master Chief.He reaches out to his friend to stop him from obeying the order. Come on, pick it up, you two.The Master Chief repeated, and left.Pilpo wiped the sweat from the back of his neck.His friend looked at him, bewildered.The Master Chief turned to face them again, yelling: Pick it up.

Why?Pierpo said. There was a few gasps in the air.The Master Chief was as stunned as most. What did you say, air sergeant? Report Sergeant, why? Because it's an order.The Master Chief was sweating so profusely that he looked as though he'd had a coat of paint on it.pick it up. Pilpo waved his hands outward.Why are we picking this one up when there are hundreds of dead bodies? Many thought he had a point. Are you talking to me, air sergeant? Report to Sgt.sorry.Report Sergeant What's so special about this dead body? Sign up, Air Force Sergeant.no answer. Sign up.The Master Chief yelled in his face.

Report to Sergeant, Pierpo. Well, Pilpo, I can make you the receiving unit.You can pick up all these bodies all day long with these orientals if you want.Now, go down and pick up this corpse.He took some sackcloth and threw it to Pilpo, with which to wrap the body.But Pilpo just let the sackcloth fall at his feet.Then stop his friend from bending over to pick up the dropped cloth. Macy said softly: My God, this is going to cause trouble. The Master Chief's veins were red, and he swallowed heavily.Are you disobeying orders? His answer was delivered in a military tone.Loud.decisive.Report Sergeant, yes.

Well, you're being sued.you two.said the Master Chief. Pierre shrugged.His hapless accomplice was petrified. Take the guns off them.Bind their hands.Both of you have been charged with disobeying a military order. Pilpo looked relieved.He sat down on the truck floor where he had just stood, and his goofy friend joined him now with an air of defiance.Nothing can bind their hands, but the duo help each other by clasping their wrists with imaginary bindings. Everyone knows what's next.Everyone looked down, avoiding the sergeant's eyes.I felt him pointing at me and Macy from the top of my head.

Come on, you two.Quickly pick it up. Macy glanced at me.Is it worth it?Should we pick it up?he wants to know.He knows my answer.We'll be going home soon.What's more, the military order is like a mountain. Hindu or Muslim?Which joker yells from the truck.How can we see that they are different?How the coolies could tell each other was the enemy was a mystery to everyone.After two years in India, they still look the same to me.Those Sikhs don't mean it, it means that they wear turbans differently. The body was still warm, making Mai Xi shiver.He whispered: Are you still alive?Throat slit.The neck was cut open, revealing the second smiling face whose blood had clotted into lumps.Stiff as iron.The stench is thick enough to chew.The truck had crushed the arm into zigzag pieces.One ear hangs down.fell into my hands.I hold it in the palm of my hand.Vulnerable as leather from a shoe.Macy shouted: Just throw it away, uncle.

I turned my back on the truck.Must vomit. Macy said: Are you okay?I wave him away with my hand.There is no need for others to see it. Macy began covering the body.A burlap cloth is stuffed under the body, as it is when sleeping.Ready to lift.Suddenly gunfire rang out.The Master Chief yells: You two, hurry up. Macy lifted his side.I can't lift it up here.The nasty loincloth is still under the wheels.I yelled: stuck.Mai Xi left him, and the body fell heavily to the ground. The Master Chief said: Never mind.Back to the truck now.The car started to wobble around.We had others to help pull and climbed up in time.Stupid, in the end the body is still the same as it just fell.

They run down the street.Coming towards us like a sudden torrent.That big crowd.Jump out of broken windows and doorways.Walking into the alley, the crumbling buildings on both sides look like they are made of cardboard.The rickshaw was overturned, the stall was opened, and the fruit was scattered all over the place.crushed underfoot.Everyone wields something fists, clubs, shiny blades.Loud as the crowd watching football.irresistible.Rush to our one and only truck.The Master Chief yells to us all: Stay calm!Stay calm!I haven't attached the bayonet yet.With shaking hands, I dropped the gun.Fumble around.When Macy finds it, give it to me.I fell again.Hundreds of dirty black-eyed coolies, possibly thousands, were coming our way.We showed our bayonets.Everyone was shouting.back off.go away.The Chief yells: Hold the lines.Keep calm.My mechanic's finger, the one used to fix the kite, trembled.Pull the trigger of the rifle.But no ammunition.Not a single bullet among us.

Bang, bang.A young brother shouted.Desperate but not desperate. They surrounded us like water.On each side were moving black faces.Oddly enough, they quieted down once they were around us.Gathered around the truck, as if not knowing what to do.The Master Chief whispered loudly: Pretending to be fierce.A brother fainted, and when he fell, several people lost their center of gravity.No one went to talk to him.There is a wait-and-see period: we watch them, they watch us.It seemed like hours.But it could also be only a few seconds.The truck started slowly.We started to lose our footing, clinging to the edge of the truck and brethren. Macy's hand squeezed on my shoulder.I clutch at someone's ball of clothing.Everyone stretched their legs and prepared to stand still.Jab the bayonet over the side of the truck.The Chief yells: Hold on.grab it. Macy yelled: Here is a hundred against one.Report to Sarge, what should we do?Everyone knew that if the truck overturned, we would be scattered under the feet of this mob, trampled to a pulp for the vultures.The butt of the Master Chief's rifle hit the side of the truck, aiming at the black palms and fingers that shook us.Everyone joins in.Even Pilpo stood up and hung aside, throwing his fists violently.His unfortunate friend held his leg steady.However, we are like a ship in a storm, and the whole car capsizes. Suddenly gunfire rang out.A police truck came around the corner and fired several rounds into the air.Our truck settled down in a cloud of dust.The mob fled like rats, fleeing in a hurry through the back streets.Go back behind the window and door.Chased by the sound of real guns.One stumbles here, another bumps there, stumbles, stops the wound, and some of the fallen are hastily dragged away.The brethren cheered and watched them disappear.Like a shooting game in a market, it landed with a slap. Wait a moment.Are they Hindus or Muslims?asked a jester. Just breathed a sigh of relief, several people yelled back: Who cares about such things when death is imminent?