Thin red line

Author: James Jones (USA) / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-04-01
Features: On the other hand, did not forget that the deadline was approaching. This pistol might be the only one he would see here. After all, he had only seen two in the entire stern of the ship. He decided to take a gamble. As far as he felt, no one was paying attention to him at the moment. He casually took a step forward, lowered his body slowly toward the bed frame as if he were someone who belonged here, then picked up the pistol and tucked it into his waistband. He suppressed the instinct to run away and lit a cigarette, took two deep puffs, and then ambled toward the door, turning back the way he came. Just as he was halfway there, when he thought he had succeeded, he heard two voices calling from behind him. It was undoubtedly for him. "Hey, you!" "Hey, soldier!" turned around, and his heart was pounding so hard he could feel his eyes sinking deep into their sockets, his face showing the look of a guilty conscience. He then saw two men approaching him—a soldier and a corporal. Would they report him? Would they beat him up? Neither prospect troubled much, what he feared more was being looked down upon as a thief. This was the nightmare that dreaded: being caught, yet not expecting it to actually happen. The two men walked straight toward, fierce and furious, their faces turning livid with anger. blinked his eyes rapidly several times, trying to wash away the look of guilt and remorse in his eyes. He noticed that the faces of others behind them also turned to look this way. "The pistol you're carrying is mine, soldier," the soldier said, his voice filled with the accusation of an injured party. "He saw you take it off the bed," the corporal said, "So stop making things up, soldier." gathered all his strength—in other words, all his courage, or something like that—and said nothing, forcing a cold, indifferent smile on his face while staring straight at them, not blinking once. He slowly unfastened his belt and handed over the pistol. "How long have you been in the service, kid?" he said with a cold smile. "You should know that your equipment shouldn't be left lying around like that. You might lose it someday." He continued to stare at them, unafraid. The two men shot him a look in return, their eyes widening slightly as new thoughts and attitudes replaced their initial anger. His indifference and lack of guilt made them look foolish. The two men suddenly gave a timid smile, and an old story that everyone in the army loved to hear flashed through their minds—a story about a fierce, greedy, and carefree soldier with unusually long hands who would grab anything he saw. "Hmph, you'd better keep your hands clean, soldier," the corporal said, but his tone was no longer as harsh as before. struggled to suppress his smile. "Anything left lying around unattended in the open, without anyone watching, is fair game for me," he said with a grin. "It's the same for any old soldier. Tell your kid, don't make it so tempting." Smiles began to appear on the faces of the others behind them, mocking the defeated soldier. The soldier himself looked ashamed, as if he were the one in the wrong. The corporal turned to him. "Did you hear that, Derek?" he said with a grin. "Take good care of your weapon." "Yeah! He really should keep a better eye on it," said. "Otherwise, he won't keep it for long." He turned around and walked slowly toward the door, and no one stopped him. P14-15