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Chapter 69¡¾End¡¿
"White Olive Tree"
¡¾Preface 1¡¿
First edition
Author Song Ran¡¯s preface
¡ª¡ª
This book was originally titled "Eastern Kingdom: The Floating Century", which originated from my trip to the Eastern Kingdom six years ago. It was conceived six years ago, written four years ago, and published today. I would like to thank the planner and editor Mr. Luo Junfeng for his persistence.
The title of the book was changed from "The Floating Century of the Eastern Kingdom" to "The White Olive Tree" for two reasons: First, I thought that although I tried my best to travel to various cities in the Eastern Kingdom and record the various social situations during the war, what I saw was that The recorded only part of the "floating world" is far less grand than the real world; secondly, because of my husband, Captain Li.
One year on the way from Garo to Hapo, he and I saw white olive trees in the desert. The specific situation has been written in the book and will not be repeated here.
I have been writing for four years, but it is not a meticulous work. It is just because life takes up too much time, and because I have never been able to watch calmly. I always look for information before picking up the pen. The memories of each scene are clearly presented, and my heart is sentimental, so my writing is slow. .
War is never an easy topic. I have tried my best to minimize subjective feelings in this article, and only want to present the most ordinary and objective record to readers. Even so, war is not something to be taken lightly.
It remains the greatest tragedy in human history. It's a pity that such tragedies happen again and again.
I studied history in college, but the wars in the books and the pain recorded in writing are far less painful than what I saw with my own eyes. Before I went to Dongguo, I could probably speak from a historical perspective, saying that war is the only way to go if social contradictions accumulate to a certain extent and cannot be reconciled, and that war and bloodshed are necessary processes for human development.
As a result, innocent people became victims under the rolling wheels of history.
But even if you give me 11,000 reasons, I still can¡¯t understand why humans want to kill their own kind. Even more unforgivable.
There is a question that I always ask myself: Does our world lack compassion, lack of enough kindness and love? Whenever I see people getting hurt, I feel pain, but I don¡¯t understand why some people don¡¯t feel pain.
After staying on the battlefield for a long time, I began to wonder whether rationality and civilization are just illusions; whether there are no so-called reasonable solutions to all human problems, but only extremes, confrontation and hatred, and the only way to resort to killing; whether history will always fall into a trap. In a strange cycle of reincarnation, disorder always defeats the system, and barbarism always defeats civilization.
And is the ultimate dream of human peace just a white olive tree in the desert?
Brilliant, beautiful, pure and grand.
Once you see it, you will never forget it and pursue it all your life.
But it happens to be illusory, ethereal, far away in the sky, and elusive.
Even, it doesn¡¯t exist at all.
It¡¯s just a fleeting mirage, just the ultimate fantasy when people are deep in the quagmire.
I am confused and can¡¯t find the direction, but I am always pulled back to the right path.
Because later I discovered that the world may be dark or lightless, but individual kindness is like a shining pearl on the beach. Even if it is stung by the gravel when looking for it, once you hold it in the palm of your hand, it shines with gentle and beautiful light. Will make you smile without regrets.
Such individuals are like the Cook soldiers codenamed b, g, l, m, k, s, a that I wrote in the book.
They are tenacious, kind, and persistent; they have the gentlest and most sunny smiles, and they have the most perseverant and unyielding faces; they endure pain and fear that ordinary people cannot bear, like tiny matches, in this disappointing world Burning with the hottest light.
¡°Perhaps human beings are such a kind of animal. Among them, there is both good and evil, great and cruel.
After seeing the deepest darkness, the most ferocious evil, and the ugliest horror,
I am still glad that I have seen the light, I have seen kindness, and I have seen the most beautiful soul.
Yes, I am still grateful. I have seen that white olive grove with my own eyes.
Song Ran
October 7, 202x
Yu Jiangcheng
¡ª¡ª
¡ª¡ª
¡¾Preface 2¡¿
?Fifth Anniversary Edition of Publication
Preface by planner Luo Junfeng
¡ª¡ª
Song Ran and I met eleven years ago. At that time, Liangcheng Satellite TV's program "The Front Line of War" became popular all over the country. Reporter Song was responsible for filming and recording more than 90% of the material for that program. The stories under her lens are delicate, simple and touching, which attracted me immediately.
?After that, his body was exhausted and his consciousness could no longer turn back. He pulled the trigger in reality and illusion. The location of the wound was on the neck.
He was peaceful when he died, wearing the nightgown he bought with my mother, with a faded red string tied around his wrist and a pale gold ring on his ring finger.
He is almost as handsome as when he was young.
My mother didn¡¯t cry, she just kissed him for a long time.
She said: "Thank you for your hard work, A-Zan."
In those ten years of hard work and gratitude, his love and responsibility for his mother, his regrets and regrets about the past, his persistence in pursuing his ideals, his confusion and joy in life, his desire and cherishment of life, were all reflected in that one sound. The gunshot disappeared as he left. .
Everyone knows what happened in the next few years.
During the war between Ethiopia and Saudi Arabia, my mother was hit by a stray bullet while trying to save a child.
When she was transported back to China, the coffin was covered with a national flag.
At that time, Xu Zhi and I followed my grandparents to pick her up at the airport. We suddenly remembered that when my father was buried, my mother said, "What a pity. A Zan's coffin should be covered with a national flag."
The wind on the tarmac blew the flag. I think that there is such an arrangement somewhere.
I have seen my mother¡¯s remains, calm and peaceful. I thought maybe she couldn't wait to see her father. After all, I had heard her say that she would give him half her life.
As I write this, I finally understand what war is.
It is a long-lasting pain.
This kind of pain can span time, space, and even generations.
Twenty-two years after the end of the war, far away in Boston, I was less than twenty-one years old. Driven by a secret emotion, I burst into tears when I wrote this paragraph.
"However, I can't write too much. Suffering is boring and repelling." I should still say something that will make everyone smile and feel relieved.
Every time I think about my parents, although I regret that they did not participate in more of my life, I am also very grateful: thank them for embracing me so tenderly and giving me such a wonderful life. Every time I remember them, I feel regretful but also feel surrounded by warmth. In all the years they were together, they never spent a day apart. Although it was because of his father's illness that he could not leave his mother. But it was also because the love and attachment between them was so deep that it lasted longer than time. So now after their deaths, there are still people who remember and commemorate their love.
My mother¡¯s book has won too many awards, and the recent decryption of files has also brought news that my father has been banned. More and more people know their story.
If you see this, I hope you won¡¯t feel sad. I can responsibly tell you: their close relationship over the years has already exceeded the lifetimes of many people.
They just supported each other, worked hard for each other, and completed their splendid lives.
I think this is why, every time I see my parents in my dreams, they always have the gentlest smile. The mother talked about trivial matters, and the father looked at her with a smile and nodded.
I think this is why no matter where I am, I can always feel their love all the time. On the ocean, in the mountain breeze, on the treetops, in the sunshine, you can feel the memories of their love, each other's love, and their love for the world everywhere.
There is something I never had time to say to my parents¡ª
Over the years, I have been to many places and met many people, but you are the gentlest at heart.
I am very lucky and grateful to have witnessed your life.
Li Songzhi
July 31, 204x
in Boston
¡ª¡ª
¡¾Editor's note:
On the eve of the publication of the 18th anniversary edition of this book, top-secret files on the four countries¡¯ fight against terrorists 23 years ago were declassified and made public.
Major Li Zan was posthumously named a "martyr" and awarded the title of "hero". He was posthumously awarded first-class merit and was promoted to the rank of colonel. The East Asian government awarded him the "Presidential Medal of Freedom"; the United Nations awarded him the "World Peace Medal". Colonel Li Zan is the special forces soldier codenamed L in the book.
Also awarded the above meritorious service are four other martyrs and heroes who died in a foreign land 22 years ago (the names were announced for the first time recently): Wang Jianfeng, Ji Haoran, Xiao Li, and Fang Zhen. ¡¿
¡ª¡ª
I would like to dedicate this book to everyone in the world who loves life.
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