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Text Chapter 57 Justice

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    Israel, defense line east of Tel Aviv.  Jacques looked into the distance from the small and low bunker, and saw the verdant green covering the hills.  Compared with the lush green wilderness, this reinforced concrete bunker is really depressing.  Sleeping bags were spread from one end of the wall to the other, almost filling half of the room, while the other half was filled with explosives, bullets and other troops.  When he wakes up in the morning, he is always forced to sit on a grenade box to eat. The feeling of having a volcano sitting under his butt is really scary.  The corridors of the fortifications are also very dark, narrow and low, and lead to the rear in a curved way, like an escape tunnel in a prison, connecting several small bunkers to the toilets.  The dim light bulbs imprisoned in this cage cast a moody shimmer into the corridor even during the day.  [. caliber heavy machine gun pointed out from the bunker mouth and aimed at the open space among the hills ahead.  In fact, this semi-underground defensive bunker was dug out of a small rocky hillside.  The mountain is a familiar neighbor to IDF soldiers, a heavy, introverted and oppressive neighbor.  In addition to a little sense of security, what it brought to the soldiers was only the musty smell of lime, the cold dampness and the narrow space.  Jacques could not help but breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that there was no movement from the Iraqi troops moving on the hill opposite.  He turned to the soldier Agnon beside him and smiled: "God bless, the Iraqis have ceased fire. It seems we can go home safely!" Agnon grinned and said nothing.  "Relax, brother. Are you willing to continue fighting?" Yaco asked in confusion.  "If the Iraqis come over, I may become a combat hero. This bunker may be the Quneitra Fortress on the Golan Heights I can easily kill a company of Iraqis with this heavy machine gun here"  The new recruit Agnon was gesticulating excitedly, dreaming of a fighting hero.  [.] "Shut up, you fool!" Yaco glanced helplessly at the young man full of fantasy, lit a cigarette and lectured: "You must understand first, the Iraqis will not  They will rush towards you like a herd of goats. Their helicopters will blow it up with bombs and rockets first. If we are lucky enough not to be hit, their artillery will use their damn Manon cannons.  Bomb this place hard God bless, if we are lucky enough to stay alive, their tanks will fire at a distance of 3,000 meters, directly targeting these bunkers, don't forget that they are Sargon tanks But our luck is strong  , still not hit, although I think this possibility is very small" "At this time, their infantry will use anti-tank missiles and rocket launchers to attack these bunkers. These fortifications cannot withstand those blows from their infantry.  The skill is very good and the hit rate is very high! Okay, kid If you can have better luck than winning the lottery and are not dead by then, you will have to face the final blow of the Iraqis who rush to the bunker.  Strike¡ª¡ªFlamethrower" Jacob shrugged, looked at the pale Agnon and said, "If you don't die then, you can become a fighting hero, but I think that's better than being a god!  It's much harder!" "Okay, maybe - I think of war too simply -" Agnon lowered his head and mumbled helplessly.  (This article was published on , please do not reprint without permission! If you want to see more exciting chapters, log on to 6,!) "Save your own life, and then go home to see the girl you like!" Jacques smiled, with a smile on his face  A hint of vicissitudes: "I'm tired of this damn war. Being able to go home and drink a cup of hot coffee or milk tea is better than anything else" "Go home?" Young Agnon looked at the people outside the bunker.  Green, I suddenly want to rush out and enjoy the sunshine and bright spring.  ¡­¡­¡­¡­ Washington, United States.  Today is a traditional American holiday - St. Patrick's Day.  This festival originated in Ireland in the late 5th century to commemorate Saint Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland.  Since the 18th century, with the increase in the number of Irish people in the United States, it has gradually developed into a national festival.  On this day, Irish Americans across the country held services, parades and celebrations rich in Irish style.  Many white people wearing clover and green and yellow clothes appeared on the street, performing various performances and celebrations.  As the national leader of the United States, President Bush also put on a green shirt on the South Lawn of the White House and met with some representatives of Irish Americans.  This is something that every U.S. president has done. Irish societies in areas such as Philadelphia and New York, such as the Sons of St. Patrick¡¯s Friendship and the Irish Charity Corps, have very strong political influence and must maintain good relations with them.  After meeting with the leaders of the group with a smile on his face, President Bush had a tired look on his face, and he took the initiative to walk to the new CIA Director Belle.In front of the President, he said: "Bell, congratulations!" "Thank you, Mr. President! I am deeply honored to serve the country, but in this position, I am really a little scared" The president waved to stop Bell.  In his self-effacing words, Sturt asked: "These days, I have been thinking, what is wrong with our policies? Why did we not prevent the situation in the Middle East from getting out of control, and now the Arab countries have almost become a whole  , the Iraqis have realized their ambitions, which really makes me sad" "Can you tell me?" The president looked at Belist and asked.  Faced with the president's question, Belester was silent for a moment and said: "Mr. President, on this issue, both the foreign affairs department and the intelligence department have submitted sufficiently authoritative analysis reports" "I don't want any reports, you are the authority.  Expert on the Middle East, I want you to tell me now, what caused us to destroy the achievements we established since President Roosevelt? " "To be honest, sir! I now begin to believe that strength, especially violence, does not  It's not the best way to solve the problem. Maybe in this world, justice¡ª¡ª"Belrest said seriously: "Or some kind of heaven, does it really exist?  This is a big proposition!  President Bush was lost in thought
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