The Decisive Battle in Korea

Chapter Two: Transmigration

"Wow..." Why am I still in the sky? When I regained consciousness, I was surprised to find myself still falling from the sky. Was everything just an illusion? Was falling into the hole just a dream?

But soon I realized something was wrong, because I had crashed heavily to the ground, a choking pain shooting through my chest. However, I knew it wasn't serious; compared to the pain that had made me vomit stomach acid, it was like a mosquito bite.

"There's a ghost..."

"Don't move! Hands up!"

...

Shouts, yells, and the sound of gun bolts being c****d filled the air. Before I could even open my eyes

, chaos erupted around me. I opened my eyes in confusion, instinctively sitting up and jumping up. In the dim light, I was astonished to find myself standing in a large pit, with several "corpses" dressed in cotton-padded coats and military caps beneath my feet. Could this be real? I thought to myself. The only corpse I had ever seen in my life was when my grandfather passed away. But judging from the pale faces of these "corpses," they didn't seem fake. I kicked "them" a few times to confirm whether they were dead or alive.

"Don't move..."

"You... are you a human or a ghost?"

I looked up at the voice and found that the area around the pit was already filled with people dressed the same way, and... each of them was pointing a gun at me. Old-fashioned rifles; I recognized most of them as Type 38 rifles.

"Who... who are you? Where is this place?" I asked, confused.

A newborn calf is not afraid of a tiger because it has never seen how ferocious a tiger is. Similarly, having never seen a gun before, I didn't know how powerful a gun was. Facing the dark muzzles of guns in front of me, I felt no fear, even though I knew I should be. So I thought for half a minute, considering whether I should pretend to be scared…

“Quick, drag him out…” After a while, an old soldier with a wrinkled face but bright eyes was the first to react: “Little Shandong, go and call the company commander and political instructor, there’s a live one here.”

“Get a blanket…” After several people dragged and pushed me out of the pit, the old soldier quickly covered me with a blanket and deftly rubbed my body through the blanket.

I was being tormented like a puppet, my mind blank. What was happening to me? Was this a dream? It was clearly summer just now, I remember wearing short sleeves, how come there’s snow everywhere, and I’m wearing this shabby cotton-padded coat, and these old-fashioned rifles that you only see in movies and museums…

“The company commander is here.”

“Where is he? Where?” The voice was deep and slightly hoarse.

“Here…” Before the words were finished, a square face appeared in front of me.

"Comrade, comrade..." He looked me up and down, and after realizing I was alright, he breathed a sigh of relief, stood up, and smiled, "Comrade, we almost buried you alive... We're so sorry."

Then he quickly put on a stern face, pointing randomly in the air, "What were you doing? You buried someone without even knowing if they were dead! Couldn't you have just checked if they were breathing? How can you complete revolutionary work so carelessly!"

"We checked, and it seems like they weren't breathing..." the old soldier said softly, looking ashamed, like a child caught stealing food.

"So this living person is a fake!" Hearing this, the company commander was even more furious, his eyes wide as lanterns.

"Company commander... I heard there's another one alive?" It was a slightly scholarly voice.

"Instructor, you've come at the right time." The company commander's expression softened as he addressed the young man who had come running up. "Look at them, they've caused such a huge mess. If they really buried our comrades alive, how am I supposed to explain this to my superiors!"

"Commander Zhang," a man with a Shandong accent interjected, "If they really buried them, how would the higher-ups know..." "Stop talking nonsense, you little Shandong guy." The man called the instructor's face darkened, and he quickly gave the order: "Quickly, go check again. We can't let our negligence lead to our comrades' needless sacrifice. Our comrades must die! They must die on the battlefield, never at the hands of our own people."

"Yes..." Company commander? Instructor? Comrade? Battlefield? Old-fashioned rifles...

My mind was a complete blank. I looked at this person and that person in a daze. They were speaking Chinese, and I could hear every word clearly, but I couldn't understand what they were saying. The scene before me seemed strangely familiar. Oh... I remember now, before I went to North Korea for my interviews, I had researched a lot about the Korean War.

I have a habit of researching the interviewee's past and present as thoroughly as possible before each interview. The people and equipment before me looked so much like the Chinese People's Volunteer Army I'd read about in the documents. Could it be...?

"Comrade, comrade..." A few shouts interrupted my thoughts. The man called the political instructor said apologetically, "Comrade, it was our oversight not to find you alive. I will ask our superiors to punish us. Which company are you from? Come with us, we'll take you back to your unit!"

"Which company?" Still confused, I asked, bewildered, "What...what's going on?"

The political instructor and company commander exchanged glances, then explained, "It's like this, comrade, last night you froze to death...oh, I should say you froze unconscious. Our company is responsible for burying comrades who froze to death. We'll be catching up with the main force soon. Comrade, which company are you from?"

"You...you're the Volunteer Army?" I looked around hesitantly, still unable to believe it. "You're the Chinese People's Volunteer Army?"

A silence fell. Everyone looked at me with strange expressions.

After a long while, the old soldier approached the political instructor and whispered, "Political Instructor, I've heard that some wounded soldiers forget who they are. Do you think this comrade's brain has been damaged by the cold, and he doesn't even know who he is?"

The political instructor hesitated for a moment, then nodded in agreement. He walked directly to me and asked, "Comrade, do you remember which company you're from?

People are mistaking you for amnesiac." I shook my head, half-laughing, half-crying.

"Do you remember who you are? What's your name?"

"My name is Cui Wei."

"Good." Hearing this, the political instructor nodded, seemingly relieved. He appeared worried that I might have become mentally impaired.

"Comrade, I'm telling you clearly now, we, including you, are soldiers of the Chinese People's Volunteer Army. We're going to catch up with the main force. Revolutionary discipline stipulates that we cannot abandon the wounded, so you must come with us, understand?" He then turned to the old soldier and ordered, "Sergeant... you're responsible for taking him with you, don't let him get lost..."