"You wait, one day I will kick you out of here ..." He often talks to himself.
In the distance, near the horizon, the smoke columns on the ship spread like dark clouds. A flock of seagulls screamed and jumped into the sea.
Kochakin held his head in his hands and lost in thought. His whole life, from childhood to now, flashed before his eyes. How did he spend these twenty-four years? Is it good or not? He looks back on the past year after year and looks at his life like an impartial judge. As a result, he was very satisfied and he had a good life. Of course, I also made many mistakes because of stupidity, youth and ignorance. But the most important thing is that in the hot years of struggle, he didn't sleep, and found his post in the cruel struggle for power. There were a few drops of his blood on the red flag of the revolution.
He didn't leave the team until he exhausted all his energy. Now that his health has collapsed, he can't hold on any longer. There's only one way to get into the rear hospital. He still remembers that in the fierce battle near Warsaw, a soldier was shot, fell off his horse and fell to the ground. Comrades quickly bandaged his wound, handed it over to the ambulance personnel, and continued to gallop forward to catch up with the enemy. The cavalry company didn't stop because one soldier was missing. This is the case when fighting for a great cause, and it should be the case. Of course there are exceptions. He has seen a machine gunner without legs, sitting on a machine gun and fighting. They are warriors who frighten the enemy, and their machine guns send death and destruction to the enemy. They have become the pride of each team with their iron will and accurate marksmanship. However, such people are rare.
Now, his body has completely collapsed and there is no hope of returning to the team. What should he do with himself? He finally learned the real illness from Bazhanova: he should be mentally prepared, and more terrible things will happen to him in the future. So, what should we do? This unsolved problem is like a gloomy black hole in front of him.
Now that he has lost the most precious thing-fighting ability, what's the point of living? In the bleak tomorrow today, what can he use to prove that he has not wasted his time? What can I use to enrich my life? Just eating, drinking and breathing? Just as a helpless bystander, watching the comrades bravely move forward? Just a burden to this team? Should we destroy this body that betrayed him? Just a shot in the heart and all the problems will be solved! I used to live a good life, and now I should be able to end this life in time. A dying soldier doesn't want to struggle any more. Who can blame him?
8. "Life is the most precious thing for people, and life belongs to people only once. A man's life should be spent like this: when he looks back on the past, he will not regret wasting his time, nor will he be ashamed of doing nothing. In this way, when he dies, he can say,' My life and all my energy have been devoted to the most magnificent cause in the world-the struggle for the liberation of mankind.' "
9. Paul and Daya went to Moscow and stayed in the archives of an institution for a few days. The head of this institution helped Paul to live in a specialized hospital.
Until now, Paul realized that it is relatively simple and easy to be strong when a person is young and strong; Nowadays, it is a glorious achievement to persist when life is like a hoop around you.
Paul had lived in the archives for a year and a half that night. The pain he suffered in the past 18 months cannot be expressed in words.
In the hospital, Professor Averbakh told Paul bluntly that it was impossible to restore his vision. In the case of hopeless future, if the inflammation can disappear, pupil surgery can be tried. He suggested surgical treatment to eliminate inflammation first.
They asked Paul for advice. Paul said he agreed with whatever the doctor thought needed to be done.
When he was lying on the operating table, a scalpel cut his neck and removed one parathyroid gland, the black wings of death touched him three times. However, Paul's vitality is very tenacious. Daya is waiting anxiously outside. A few hours later, she saw her husband's face as pale as a dead man, but he was still alive and calm as usual: "Good girl, don't worry, I won't go to the coffin so easily." I want to live, even if it is deliberately against the predictions of those medical authorities. Their diagnosis of my illness is completely correct, but it is a big mistake to write a certificate saying that I 100% lose my ability to work. We will wait and see! "
Paul firmly chose a road, determined to return to the team of new life builders through this road.
10. Winter has passed and spring is full outside the window. Paul survived the last operation, but he lost a lot of blood. He felt that he couldn't stay in the hospital any longer. It is more difficult for him to live for such a long time in the pain of various patients, groans and wails of the dying than to endure his own pain.
The doctor advised him to have another operation, and he said coldly and stiffly, "That's it." I'm full. I have given part of my blood to science, and left the rest for me to do other things. "
On the same day, Paul wrote a letter to the Central Committee asking for help in settling down in Moscow. Because his wife works locally, it is useless for him to continue to be hospitalized in various places. For the first time in his life, he turned to the party organization for help. Moscow Soviet allocated him a house. So Paul left the hospital. His only hope at that time was never to come back.
The house is in a quiet alley in Krupotkin Street, which is very simple, but in his view, it is already very luxurious. When he wakes up at night, he often doesn't believe that he has left the hospital far away.
Daya has been transformed into a formal party member. She works very hard. Although her personal life is very unfortunate, she has not fallen behind other advanced workers. The workers trusted the taciturn woman worker: she was elected as a member of the factory committee. Paul was proud that his lifelong partner became a Bolshevik, which eased his pain.
On one occasion, Bazhanova went to Moscow on business to visit Paul. They had a long talk. Paul enthusiastically told her the road he chose, through which he would be able to return to the ranks of soldiers.
Bazhanova found the silver hair on Kochakin's temple and said softly, "I can see that you have suffered a lot, but you still haven't lost your never-ending enthusiasm. What could be more valuable than this? You've been preparing for five years, and now you've decided to start writing. Good. But how to write it? "
Paul smiled and comforted her and said, "Tomorrow they will send me a carved board made of cardboard. I can't write without this tablet. I will overlap words in different lines. It took me a long time to come up with such a way, that is, to carve spaces on the cardboard so that my pencil would not be written outside the straight grid. I can't see what I wrote. It is difficult to write, but it is not impossible. I am convinced of this. I tried for a long time, and I couldn't write well at first. Now I write slowly and carefully, and the words I write are quite good. "
Paul began to work. He planned to write a novella about the heroic Kotovschi cavalry division, and the title came out without thinking: Born in a Storm.
From this day on, Paul devoted himself to the creation of this book. He writes slowly, line after line, page after page. He forgot everything, immersed himself in the characters in the book, and tasted the hardships of creation for the first time: sometimes those vivid and unforgettable scenes reappeared clearly in his mind, but they could not be expressed in pen and ink, and the written words seemed so pale and weak, lacking vitality and passion.
He must memorize all the written parts word for word. Otherwise, once the clue is broken, the work will be hindered. The mother looked at her son's work with trepidation.
In the process of work, he has to recite from memory page by page, even chapter by chapter, so his mother sometimes thinks he is crazy. She was afraid to go near Paul when he was writing. She just said timidly, "Paul Fu Lusha, you'd better do something else. Haven't seen you like this, always can't finish writing ... "
Paul couldn't help laughing when he saw his mother so depressed, and comforted the old lady that he was not completely "crazy".