Add Bookmark | Recommend this book | Back to the book page | My bookshelf | Mobile Reading

Free Web Novel,Novel online - All in oicq.net -> Historic -> Luo Er s War

Text Chapter 542: The old lama in front of the temple

Previous page        Return to Catalog        Next page

    After receiving the telegram from the Zhangmu Village post, Company Commanders Zheng Jun and Zhao did not dare to slack off. While urgently reporting to the military logistics team left behind in Xiamu Village, they also asked for instructions from the military division. They led an entire armed platoon and stepped on the snow that was up to their calves.  , rushing towards the Kodari Pass.

    The logistics team of the military region in Cuoxiamu Village in front quickly dispatched manpower at the same time; the two teams ignored the dark clouds again and marched painfully on the mountain road with their heads down.

    Two days later, when Zheng Jun and others arrived at the valley full of rocks, as he expected, the military region's logistics team, which had arrived earlier, and the two political section cadres in the team, had already sealed the tightly wrapped box.  There is a tent where no one is allowed to come near.

    The dark clouds on the top of the mountain made Zheng Jun breathless in his deep thoughts. However, the busy crowd in the valley forced him to put down his equipment and collect the food on the ground with everyone.

    Amid the distressed complaints from everyone, Zheng Jun also picked up a brand new canvas bag, bent down and swept away the snow with his cold hands, blew away the sand and soil from the piles of rice and wheat, and carefully put them away;  "Damn Luo Er, you even thought of empty pockets. Why don't you come and give it a try? I'll have to practice alone with you if I get the chance."

    "Buzz," the familiar sound of an airplane rang out again in the clouds. Zheng Jun picked up a bag half filled with food and widened his eyes with hope. He looked up, but couldn't see anything.

    "Beep, beep," a sharp whistle sounded, and a sentry on the mountainside blew the whistle quickly.  Amidst the shouts of several soldiers, everyone picked up the grain bags in their hands and hurriedly piled them under some boulders at the foot of the mountain.

    The panting Zheng Jun clutched the pockets in his hands tightly and leaned against the cold rocks. Just as he was about to ask a soldier beside him, he heard a series of dull whistling sounds above his head, and bags of familiar military rations were split.  The sky fell from the high clouds.  The crackling was like bursts of huge hailstones.  Clusters of snow mist popped up.

    There was even a bulging grain bag, like a bomb, stuck sideways on the opposite tent.  Put a winter outdoor tent with cotton curtains.  With a click, it fell to the ground.

    "Oh. I see, if you don't scare people to death, you really are not you anymore," he glanced at the political department cadre not far away with a bitter look on his face.  In the tent that was set up just last night, the food statistics table is in it. Fortunately, the radio station is not in it.

    The corners of his mouth raised slightly. Just as Zheng Jun was about to stand up, he heard the cold wind surging above his head and couldn't help but stiffen. He was used to hearing the sound of mortar shells falling on the battlefield and couldn't help but lament, "Grass,"

    "Crash, clatter," the solid and tall rocks behind saved the lives of Zheng Jun and a group of officers and soldiers. The golden rice splashed down like a stream; Zheng Jun, who was slumped on the snow, was in the big guys' arms.  Amidst the exclamation, he silently opened the pocket in his hand and let the rice rolling down from his head flow straight into his pocket.

    At this time, his mind was no longer on the food.

    On the clouds, the transport plane made a round trip, preparing to adjust its course and return; in the cabin, Zhang Zhuowen was wrapped in a thick woolen coat, leaning on a bench, quietly looking at the commander at the tail of the plane, rubbing his hands and walking back  .

    The tail hatch in the rear cabin has been closed, and the flashing warning lights have been extinguished. Luo Er, who was shivering all over, was still blue in the face even though he was wearing a bloated snow-proof winter uniform; the temporary installation in the cabin  Heating equipment has no effect at all at high altitudes.

    Leaning next to Zhang Zhuowen, Luo Er pulled the blanket over his legs, rubbed his stiff face vigorously, turned his face and looked at Zhang Zhuowen, "I said, if you don't stay in front, it will be better to run behind and get cold."  Bar,"

    ¡°Hey, I¡¯ve never seen an airdrop scene, come and see it,¡± Zhang Zhuowen reached out and stroked his thick cotton hat, leaning sideways against the officer so that everyone could stay warmer.

    "Sir, the altitude of the plane is too high. At least 30% of the food will be lost. It would be a pity if there is a mistake in the delivery point." Zhang Zhuowen shook the altimeter on his wrist, looking very regretful.  Amidst the buzzing noise, only Luo Er's keen ears could hear clearly.

    "Well, food is just food, but the road down there is difficult. If I hadn't taken this opportunity, who knows when it would be repaired," Luo Er curled his lips disapprovingly, stretched out his legs and shook them gently.  He rubbed his neck and leaned back comfortably, "When you get back, contact Major General Dilip and Akkineninagarjuna immediately. When will the damn contract be signed? The security department's funds are still too tight,"

    "Okay, sir," with Zhang Zhuowen's concise reply, the transport plane slowly drove toward the airport at high altitude.

    The weather conditions at the southern foot of Mount Everest were good, and the sunset cast a faint golden afterglow. Luo Er and ZhangZhuo Wen got off the plane, jumped on a military jeep, and hurried out of the airport; as for the two Japanese pilots, they had a heavy mission and would have to be with the plane in a short time.

    The grain reserves in the five major national grain depots between Lucknow and New Delhi have been completely emptied today. Luo Er's next target is Patna, a city in eastern India, a storage and transportation center in a grain-producing area.  , gathering a large number of grain merchants and their grain depots.

    The jeep traveled south along the road and stopped by a large river. Next to the ferry's motorboat, an Indian gunboat docked in the middle of the river. Two dark-skinned soldiers were guarding the shore with rifles on their backs.  A small boat.

    "Squeak," the jeep raised a large cloud of smoke and dust. Before it stopped, Luo Er had already jumped out of the car. Ignoring Zhang Zhuowen who couldn't help spitting out dust, he reached out and took out the sunglasses from the guy's jacket pocket. Luo Er said calmly.  On the bridge of the nose.

    "Sir," two soldiers from the Assam Infantry Regiment disembarked from the gunboat. Seeing Luo Er, who was wearing a colonel's uniform, he walked over unhurriedly, stood up at attention, and saluted the officer in front of him.  military salute.

    Assam and Manipur, two places closely related to the northern continent, Luo Er has instructed Major General Dilip to prioritize the establishment of two mixed special service regiments respectively. As for other armed forces, these two will be mobilized as soon as possible.  A state.

    Luo Er, who was parachuted back from the sky every day, did not bother to rest, and kept running to prisons and police stations in various places. The knife-burning potion he finally got his hands on would be given to Major General Dilip as soon as possible; peripheral members of the Indian intelligence station  , is also growing with optimistic numbers every day.

    "Well," Luo Er squinted at the two lean soldiers, then looked at their weapons, nodded slightly, and looked up towards the ferry. The motorboat full of passengers was about to sail to the other side.

    For this red land covered with hundreds of rivers, it would be false to say that he is not jealous, and the staggering population in the richly produced area makes him even more reluctant to let go of his hands.

    If you don¡¯t go out, you don¡¯t know how big the world is. Your horizons are still a bit small. He shook his head mockingly. Luo Er was about to greet Zhang Zhuowen behind him when suddenly he turned around. On the hill in the distance, there was a temple with red walls and black roofs.  His heart moved.

    What caught his attention was a lama standing quietly under the thick black pine in front of the temple. The old lama with sagging skin was looking at him quietly. If he hadn't been alert, Luo Er wouldn't have noticed that he was thousands of meters away.  Outside, someone was looking at him carefully.

    "Oh, you two wait a minute, I'll be here soon," Luo Er whispered to Zhang Zhuowen, waving his hands at the two soldiers, twisting and walking towards the mountain bag.

    Along the one-foot-wide gravel path, Luo Er walked step by step through seven or eight gravel piles on both sides, stone piles covered with colorful prayer flags, and silk flags with Buddhist scriptures printed on them dancing in the wind; maybe,  When the prayer flags flutter once, it is like chanting the sutra once, constantly conveying people's wishes to God and praying for God's blessing.

    In the small square in front of the temple, next to the tall black pine, a 5-meter-high prayer flag pole is printed with Buddhist scriptures and patterns of birds and animals. The square prayer flags in blue, white, red, green and yellow rustle in the cold wind.  The old lama stood on his waist and stared at the oncoming passers-by with squinted eyes.

    Yes, in the eyes of the lama, Luo Er is still a passerby, but in the eyes of the old man, a passerby with a strong evil spirit will not last long.

    "Dang, dang," Luo Er stepped on the bluestone with high-waisted military boots. He walked up to him indifferently and stared straight at the indifferent lama for a long time. "Old man, are you feeling well?"

    The old lama's snow-white eyebrows moved slightly, and he turned the prayer beads in his hand. He stared at Luo Er with half-closed eyes. He let out a strange sigh, then shook his head and murmured softly; the young man in front of him had lively eyebrows.  , the evil aura on his body turned around, and there was such a big difference, which made the old man who had seen many pious guests secretly wonder.

    "So, do you have anything to say?" Luo Er tried his best to use a gentle tone and asked in a low voice. Then he realized that English was not the common language in this plateau temple.

    Looking up, Luo Er looked back sideways. The temple door behind the old man was wide open, and there was a two-meter-high stone wall inside. Rows of orderly stone grids were filled with densely packed skulls. He was shocked all over.  The hair on his head stood on his head, so he turned around and walked away quickly.

    "This can't be some kind of celestial burial platform, right? What the hell am I doing here?" He scratched the itchy back of his head and cursed in his heart. Luo Er ran all the way to the ferry without even looking.  The jeep took Zhang Zhuowen to jump on the boat and boarded the gunboat.

    Seeing Luo Er's back go away, the old lama raised his arm. Under the yellow shirt, between the dry palms, a string of purple beads swayed slightly in the cold wind. He did not send out the string of beads, letting the old lama?Sighed in solitude.  (To be continued)
Didn't finish reading? Add this book to your favoritesI'm a member and bookmarked this chapterCopy the address of this book and recommend it to your friends for pointsChapter error? Click here to report