Anti-War Game: Starting from Normandy Campaign

The users of Blue Star watched as someone was moved aside in an attempt to save them, but their chest gradually ceased to rise and fall, leaving everyone with a deep sense of helplessness.

Difficult.

Too difficult.

This challenging predicament made the barrage sparse, leaving the users of Blue Star momentarily speechless.

In the perspective of the live broadcast.

Looking at the young soldier whose breathing had stopped, the medic couldn't hold back any longer, and tears streamed down.

She quickly regained composure, fought back her grief, and gently closed the young soldier's eyes with frozen reddened hands, then turned to everyone and said:

"Bury him on the spot."

As soon as the words fell, urgent shouts came from afar:

"Medic!"

"Medic!!!"

Without having time to dry her tears, the medic got up and ran toward the shouting from the rear.

As for Zhuo Yong, he and several soldiers carried the young soldier to the side.

After covering him with snow, they made a small snow mound, placing the young soldier's tattered military cap, with the red five-pointed star, on top....

The group walked until deep into the night, finding a snow cave.

They all squeezed into the snow cave, warming each other back to back.

Zhuo Yong also hid inside the snow cave, gnawing on rock-hard rations, while nearby, the cooking squad's wild vegetable soup emitted bursts of fragrance.

Calling it wild vegetable soup, it was really just snow water boiled with a few pieces of dried wild vegetables.

Those few dried wild vegetables in a large pot of snow water were so bland they had no taste, but in this icy environment, they seemed as tempting as gourmet food.

These Red Army soldiers may have never tasted any gourmet food.

But for Zhuo Yong, a streamer from Blue Star, the food he usually ate was a hundred times better than the hardened rations now, yet the aroma of the wild vegetable soup lured him.

For the first time, Zhuo Yong understood what it meant to say hunger is the best seasoning.

Born on Blue Star, where food and clothing were abundant, Zhuo Yong.

Had never worried about food.

But now, looking at the large pot carried by the cooking squad, his eyes were filled with desire.

The Red Army soldiers queued for soup, and when it was Zhuo Yong's turn, he held his worn enamel bowl, carefully taking the half bowl of wild vegetable soup the cook ladled out.

The heat of the wild vegetable soup quickly dissipated in the minus 20° mountain top, and Zhuo Yong hurriedly took a sip.

No salt, no oil.

Even the vegetable taste was diluted by the pot of snow water, but the sip of warm soup into his stomach made Zhuo Yong tremble.

The whole person came alive.

This warm sip of wild vegetable soup had no taste, but it was better than any soup Zhuo Yong had ever had.

His throat involuntarily gulped.

His mind kept shouting, "Drink slowly, drink slowly!"

But he couldn't stop himself.

In the blink of an eye, the half bowl of vegetable soup was gone.

After drinking.

He put down the bowl, feeling completely alive.

His stomach was warm.

Seeing the ragged soldiers huddled together, drinking this only warmth.

Zhuo Yong looked outside the snow cave.

The roaring cold wind continued to blow.

Yet this dark, cold night seemed less so, illuminated by the bright flames beneath the cooking squad's pot.

...

...

But it was all an illusion.

When Zhuo Yong was shaken awake from the cold the next day, he slowly stiffened himself up and looked around.

He realized that some of the comrades who huddled together last night didn't wake up.

Their faces still bore peaceful expressions, as if merely asleep, but their motionless chests and frost-covered faces showed they....

Zhuo Yong stood frozen, his throat a bit dry.

The Blue Star viewers in the live stream felt the same.

To them.

Five minutes ago, the scene was still of everyone sharing hot wild vegetable soup, speaking softly, eyes filled with hope for the future.

But after drinking the soup, Zhuo Yong sat in the corner to rest.

A moment later.

A button appeared to skip the night.

A single click, and when the scene reappeared.

Inside the snow cave, some could no longer rise.

Zhuo Yong stood there, unsure of what to do, while those who could move gathered, looking at the bodies of about a dozen soldiers.

Everyone carefully carried the fallen comrade's bodies out.

No time to mourn and no means to bury.

They could only find a secluded corner to cover the bodies with snow.

Everyone silently looked at the snow-covered mounds.

A moment later.

The veteran squad leader's hoarse voice sounded, holding small pieces of dry rations from the fallen soldiers:

"The dead make way for the living."

"When the revolution succeeds...."

"We'll come back to take them home."

The veteran squad leader's voice was hoarse, and after speaking, he resolutely turned forward.

The live stream's comments completely froze.

No one posted "tears," no one sent "heartbroken," because any emotion felt insufficiently respectful to the soldiers.

The snow could take their lives, but not extinguish their faith.

All viewers seemed paused, with only the increasing viewer count testifying that this wasn't a still image.

The team regrouped, missing more than ten compared to yesterday.

Zhuo Yong walked in the middle of the team, each step feeling like stepping on cotton.

Around him, units gradually appeared along the road to the snow mountain summit, with fewer than yesterday... forever buried here.