GBP Chapter 539 Unable to Face the Elders of Jiangdong
Chapter 539 Unable to Face the Elders of Jiangdong
Why do many generals rarely return to their hometowns after winning battles?
You imagined returning home on horseback, followed by numerous soldiers, with crowds lining both sides of the road welcoming your triumphant return.
[In reality, everyone was crowding around you, eagerly asking: Where are their sons, husbands, and fathers? Why didn't they come back with them?]
These words may be more lethal than bullets on the battlefield.
Why are you back? You took so many people with you, and they didn't come back. Why are you back?
How will you explain this to them?
During the Korean War, General Zeng Zesheng led more than 3 lightly armed infantrymen to fight against 23 mechanized troops.
Given such a large gap, this is almost an impossible task.
But they held on and even won.
However, of the more than 3 soldiers who went together, only about 1000 survived.
[After that, General Zeng Zesheng never returned to his hometown.]
It's not that I don't want to go back, it's that I'm afraid to face those expectant yet disappointed eyes, and afraid to let down the millions of families waiting for their loved ones to return home.
"This is why Xiang Yu, the Hegemon-King, refused to cross the Yangtze River and return home until his death. His cousin had taken an arrow for him, his younger cousin's severed hand lay at his feet, and his uncle's screams echoed beside him. If he went back, how could he face his clansmen? In chess, once a pawn crosses the Chu River and Han Border, it cannot retreat."
"The scariest thing is that nobody says anything, everyone is celebrating your triumphant return."
At first, they all craned their necks, full of anticipation. Then, they slowly lowered their heads. Later, the men toasted and drank with you, while the women secretly wiped away their tears. The men, emboldened by alcohol, asked you, "My son, is he any good?" The women wiped away their tears, walked up to you, and asked you the same question: "My son hasn't let me down, has he?"
You choke up, their voices and smiles flashing through your mind, yet you don't know where they are buried. In a daze, just a moment ago, you were still drinking and laughing together.
"General, in this battle, I will be the first to charge. If I dare to shrink back even a step, I'm not my mother's son!" But the next second, all you can see is a pair of tearful eyes, magnifying in your pupils, engulfing the entire world.
"There's a Russian short film where, after World War II ended, a soldier returned home and called out 'Mom!' from downstairs, and all the windows in the entire building opened [crying emoji]"
"A friend of mine"
He survived the Wenchuan earthquake at a rural primary school. He said that every time he returned to his hometown, the village women would come to his house and look him up and down. They would prepare food and necessities for him.
"If the villagers scold or beat me, it might be a little easier to bear. What I fear most is being asked repeatedly, 'Was that child brave? Did he hold us back?'"
"Criticism is still okay; being scolded relieves the pressure on my heart. What I fear most is the kind of criticism: 'You're a hero... We don't blame you, we just want to know if my family member suffered a lot before he died... Was he brave? Did he make any useful contributions to the country or the army?' [Tears]"
"When I was playing Mount & Blade, I spent a lot of time training those new recruits from the villages into elites. Although they were just virtual data, to me, they were soldiers I had personally trained. That time I took these guys to attack a city, more than 500 of them died, and it broke my heart [crying]"
"To some, casualty statistics are just cold, hard numbers, but to their families, they represent the deaths of vibrant, living people [facepalm]"
“I also have the surname Zeng. My grandfather told me that he was very afraid of war and even wanted to escape, but all his friends in the village were there, and he was too proud to leave.”
My grandfather said, "The fire has started. You'll see your cousin, who was visiting and helping with your funeral just six months ago, get smashed to pieces right in front of you."
The stranger who moved to the village was usually very close to you. Because he was unfamiliar with the place, you were the only one who kept him company. But he took a bullet for you, looked at you with complicated eyes, murmured "my child" and then breathed his last.
Then there's the older brother who helped the young men from your village join the army; even with his hand broken, he was still shouting, "Don't be afraid, I'm still here."
My grandfather said he was very panicked, but he kept running. Sometimes the blood of the people next to him would splatter on his face, sometimes the people in front of him would be shot and sent flying, and sometimes the grenades that his brothers a little further away didn't throw because of the tension would explode. You gradually become numb.
As you run, you see the enemy. They are tall and strong, wearing thick clothes. At this moment, you no longer feel fear, but only a burning rage.
Then enemy planes came, and a bomb landed next to you. You couldn't dodge in time, and the blast wave knocked you unconscious. When you woke up, you were in a rudimentary clinic. Glancing outside, you saw the bodies of your fellow villagers being buried on the spot. At that moment, you remembered what you had all said before you came: "We'll go home together, or at the very least, return to our roots."
You shook your head and realized you couldn't hear clearly in one ear. You looked at the nurse pleadingly. At that moment, your senses returned, and you were sweating profusely from the pain. Looking down, you saw a hole in your thigh with a sanitary napkin about half a fist's size stuffed inside.
"Just like during the War of Resistance Against Japan, when you crossed that bridge made of planks carried on the shoulders of women, submerged in the icy cold river, how could you possibly face them after losing the battle? [crying][crying][crying]"
"What I fear most is not criticism, but if an old man holds your hand and says: 'General, this old man still has the strength to follow you.'"
What do you do in this situation? [shrug]
Late Qin Dynasty.
Forced to retreat to the Wujiang River, Xiang Yu thought: "I am a mighty overlord. Although I dare to face thousands of troops and absolute suppression on the battlefield, I dare not face the expectant eyes of the elders and clansmen of Jiangdong."
If I had won the battle, that would be fine, but I lost the battle and everyone was dead. What am I supposed to say when I go back?
Because of my wrong decision, I lost the lives of my own soldiers, which I could never save, and the sons and grandsons of my fellow villagers who will never return home. I have no words to face them!
Scholars from other dynasties: Alas, I used to say that Xiang Yu was too arrogant to face the elders of Jiangdong, but it turns out I was really too naive.
Having never fought a war, we were once arrogant and conceited, wanting to dictate the course of history, and even wondering if the outcome of history would have been different if Xiang Yu had crossed the Wujiang River and made a comeback.
Will a general who returns victorious from a battle truly be as spirited and carefree as depicted in plays, neglecting the wounded and dead soldiers who perished in the fighting?
It wasn't until I met Tianmu that I realized what it felt like to be a general who, even after winning a battle, was unwilling to return home, and what it meant to disappoint the parents of his soldiers by not wanting to go back to his own territory.
For them, winning the battle was naturally a great thing, but what they cared about more was whether their own family members' lives were in danger.
Now I finally understand Li Qingzhao's poem: "To live, be a hero; to die, a ghost of valor. Even now, I think of Xiang Yu, who refused to cross the Yangtze River."
Xiang Yu, the Hegemon-King of Western Chu, never crossed the Dongjiang River; once he did, he was no longer the Hegemon-King.