The expeditionary force began to dominate Southeast Asia by recruiting defeated soldiers

Chapter 430: See You at the Martyrs' Cemetery

The rain fell softly and densely, like thousands of silk threads hanging from the gloomy sky, enveloping the entire Yangon Martyrs Cemetery in a solemn and moist silence.

In front of the cemetery gate, ceremonial soldiers stood upright in neat rows, wearing dark green woolen uniforms and golden armbands on their shoulders, engraved with the emblem of the Anmin Army.

They held standard M1 Garand semi-automatic rifles on their shoulders, the gun bodies were wiped spotlessly clean, with bayonets inserted in the muzzles, slightly raised, as if pointing directly to the sky.

"--shooting!"

The officer's command broke through the rain curtain.

"boom--!"

"boom--!"

"boom--!"

Three rounds of gunfire rang out in unison in the rain, as if giving the final military salute to the countless soldiers who were buried here.

At the moment the gunshots rang out, twelve 75mm M1A2 mountain cannons serving as salutes roared on the high ground on the other side of the cemetery.

"boom--!"

The blank bullet exploded with a low thunderous sound, and a ball of orange-red flames spurted out of the muzzle. White smoke wrapped in the smell of gunpowder spread in the damp and cold air, as if the mountains and rivers were echoing, or as if the heroic souls were responding.

The rain hasn't stopped yet.

Zhang Chi stood in the central square of the cemetery, wearing a well-tailored black suit with a slightly open collar. He did not hold an umbrella and let the rain wet his shoulders.

His short hair had been smoothed by the rain, and a few raindrops were sliding down his eyebrows, but his expression was as cold as a rock, and his eyes were staring quietly at the monument in front of him with a huge relief carving.

Behind him, Chief of General Staff Tan Zhijie was wearing a neat military uniform, with the gold stars on his epaulettes flickering faintly in the rain; Minister of General Logistics Kang Huojian held his military cap in one hand and the other hand hanging by his side; Artillery Commander-in-Chief Xiong Minjing had a solemn expression and was tall and burly.

There were also several military academy instructors with outstanding military achievements, important members of the general staff, division commanders who were not on the front lines, and senior officers of the navy and air force. At this moment, they all took off their hats and stood solemnly, bowing and paying tribute to this monument and the names engraved on the stone wall in the drizzle.

Zhang Chi walked forward, leaned over in front of the monument, and bowed deeply and solemnly. His movements were slow and restrained, but they weighed heavily on people's hearts.

The officers behind him all bowed their heads, like a pine forest bent by the wind, neat and powerful.

Zhang Chi personally presented the wreath, which was made of yellow chrysanthemums interwoven with crimson gladioli. White cloth was tied into two interlaced ribbons, with a line of black calligraphy on them: "Sacrificed for the country, the heroic spirit will live forever."

The flower language of the former is mourning, and the flower language of the latter is steadfastness.

Zhang Chi placed the wreath gently in front of the monument with his hands. The moment he knelt down, the knees of his trousers were stained with wet mud, but he didn't care.

After the wreath was placed, he slowly stood up and raised his head. Raindrops slid down his face, like tears but not tears.

"Brothers, have a safe journey!"

Zhang Chi whispered, as if muttering to himself, but also as if he was talking to everyone behind him.

He turned around and slowly spoke to all the officers present:

"Today, we commemorate them so that we can remember that this land was won with the lives of countless brothers and was won with blood!"

None of the generals behind him said much, but just nodded silently, leaving only the lingering sound of the salute echoing in the mountains.

After the ceremony, grassroots officers and soldiers and the public were allowed to enter the park one after another.

Despite the muddy mountain road, continuous rain and dark sky, there were already crowds of people and long queues outside the cemetery.

Some were holding children, some were carrying incense tables and offerings, and some were holding portraits.

The mud was covered with footprints, but no one complained.

In the crowd, an elderly woman, holding her grandson's hand, whispered, "Your father was killed in battle north of Myitkyina. Now we've finally found his name."

"Name?" The little grandson blinked.

"Yes," the old woman said, pointing to the densely packed names carved on the memorial wall, tears welling in her eyes. "In the past, when soldiers died, they were just buried somewhere. There were no tombstones, and no one cared. Families didn't even know where they died. Now your father's name is right there. He's a hero."

In the distance, there are neat rows of tombstones, all made of fine stones, silent and depressing.

Several workers who had just finished their shift at the port stood in the outer circle, looking at the solemn guards and the altar inside.

A porter in his forties gritted his teeth and said, "I didn't believe these official jargons before, but after seeing Commissioner Zhang standing in the rain for so long today, I'm convinced. He really doesn't mean it."

"That's right," another young man interrupted, "My uncle also went to Savage Mountain. Although he can't come back, when the old people in our family learned that there is a place like this for him to be buried, they all cried."

Inside the cemetery, a group of soldiers were gathered around a newly erected monument. Many of them were still wearing rain-soaked clothes, and all of them looked silent.

The squad leader squatted down and pulled out an old photo from his pocket. It was taken before the war, and the edges were already broken. He lit a cigarette and gently stuck it into the soil.

"A Bing," he murmured, "Commander-in-Chief Zhang personally presented you with flowers. You are no longer an unknown ghost. When my turn comes, I'll go get your mother to come see you."

The soldier beside him had red eyes and asked in a low voice: "Squad leader, is this battle worth fighting?"

The squad leader said nothing, looking up at the monument standing solemnly in the rain. After a long while, he slowly said, "It's worth it!"

This sentence is simple, but it is worth thousands of words.

Even though they used to say that good iron doesn't make nails and good men don't serve in the military, today, they all felt warm in their hearts. They felt that it was worth it to fight with Zhang Chi until now.

At this moment, the cemetery is no longer a place where cold stone tablets are piled up, but the final resting place of heroes with flesh and blood, wives, children, parents and stories behind countless names.

Zhang Chi personally bowed, delivered a speech and presented flowers in the rain, as if elevating their sacrifice from "death in battle" to "glory."

On this day, many originally indifferent people realized for the first time that the "soldiers fighting" they were talking about were not fighting for "other people's" world, but for the land under their feet.

This piece of land that they cultivated with their own hands and made a living on is the true meaning of what the soldiers exchanged their lives for.

At this moment, a burst of rapid footsteps sounded.

Female secretary Liu Shengnan came running in the rain.

She whispered in his ear, "An urgent telegram has arrived from Myitkyina. General Lu from Yunnan Province urgently wants to meet with you for consultations."

Zhang Chi nodded, glanced back at the cemetery, and said in a deep voice, "Arrange the train, I'll be back soon."

At present, all the devils in South Asia have retreated into Annan, and the defense pressure on the border has dropped sharply. Zhang Chi can roughly guess what Long and Lu of the Yunnan faction are planning.

However, it has been raining heavily recently, and he didn't dare to take a plane in the rain, so he just asked Liu Shengnan to arrange a special train and return north by rail.

After briefly arranging the follow-up at the Martyrs' Cemetery, Zhang Chi put his hat back on his head, turned around and strode away.

The rain slid down his shoulders, and his figure gradually walked away, but in the hearts of every person who watched him, he became clearer and taller.