Chapter 36 Verse 12 A letter from the clouds

In the era when writing letters was the only form of communication, Zhang Dafei became my most stable pen pal during the six years in Shapingba. When I was in junior high school, he had already started flying deportation planes. In the past two years, he participated in the deportation mission over Chongqing and visited my house about five or six times.My older sister Ning Yuan has already attended Nankai Primary School, and my younger sister Xingyuan also goes to "play" every day (she can memorize all the books written by the younger sister).At that time, I was the only person in my family who loved to write letters. When the fourth brother Dafei (the eldest in his family) was not stationed in Chongqing, he wrote letters on light blue airline letter paper every week. His family could not be contacted. He said, We are his only family members who can report safety.He wrote letters like letters from home, so I was very moved, and I would definitely reply to his letters. If those letters were brought out, what a precious history of the growth of young people during wartime!

The growth experience we share so sincerely and purely is like two parallel lines that can never meet.He grew up in the clouds, struggling to the death with machine guns and anti-aircraft guns; but I could only flee from the police on the ground, cry for disasters, or sing a chorus.The two of us may have only one thing in common, which is to use all our strength to drive away the Japanese. What a glorious life he had, and I had only the little world of middle school girls.When I was in junior high school, I often copied some articles in Chinese textbooks that were time-sensitive and worried about the country, such as "Li Ling's Answer to Su Wu Shu), Sima Qian's "Report to Ren Shaoqing", Han Yu's "Worship of the Twelve Langs", Yuan Mei's "Sister Essay", Shi Kefa's "Reply Dorgon book), etc.Gradually, he also wrote some extracurricular readings, "Icelandic Fisherman", which girls are most fascinated by, and even this kind of "deadly passionate" prose poems. He seemed to be very interested in discussing with me, but at the end of each letter he said Pay attention to your body and don't let your mother worry about it.

I went to high school, and he had experienced many battles, and the content of the letter was much wider than that of his junior high school life.He is very interested in all meaningful activities in the school, celebrity speeches at weekly meetings, wall newspapers I run, letters of condolence to frontline soldiers, donations for rebuilding new houses after the bombing...etc.Sometimes I also send him one or two good books from "Time and Trend Bookstore".These letters, he said, were his only letters home and his greatest comfort. Gradually, he wrote more words about the "Bible", and he appreciated the textbooks I copied and sent him Mr. Meng's anthology of poetry and lyrics. He said it was another comfort for his soul (for many years, he was the only one who often talked I talk about souls).

He and I have almost completed teacher Meng Zhisun's anthology of poems and words.Of course he likes Su Dongpo and Xin Qiji, saying that kind of boldness is what a man should have.I also agree with the conclusion of Qin Shaoyou's "Traveling on Shasha": "The Chenjiang River is lucky to go around Chenshan, for whom it will flow to Xiaoxiang." Dark red bananas, leisurely dreaming Jiangnan plum ripening day. Night boat playing flute and rain rustling, people talking about the bridge beside the station.” But he didn’t think so, how could he like such a desolate realm at a young age!

His letters, from the first letter sent to Hunan to write about his military training, to when he returned from the United States and was selected into the Flying Tigers (the flying tigers), are often accompanied by photos, from marching fast in cotton uniforms to standing with sharks Various photos of Flying Tiger fighter jets wearing flight suits have accumulated a lot in the past seven or eight years. He has grown up in the war and started his fruitful life (if that can be called a "life"), all because he was selected to join Chennault's (Claire Lee Chennault, 1893-1958) Flying Tigers, and the American Volunteer Army Fight alongside.In 1941, at the base in Yunnan, he met an American chaplain.Over the years, he has been trapped in the psychological conflict between religion and combat. He found some relief in the conversation with this Presbyterian priest. When he was training in the United States, he met with the military chaplain at the base day and night. They believed that defending their hometown was a just battle. It is the bounden duty of a soldier to reduce the casualties of innocent civilians, and it gives him a spiritual way out, enabling him to seek some peace of mind between killing and redemption.

gradually.He didn't write much about the war, and he began to say that after the war, he would become an army chaplain, but the war must be fought well first "and the Japanese devils must not be able to win." His tone was full of heroism, full of encouragement from President Zhang's speech We have the spirit of "China will not perish, there is me!" The relationship between Chennault and the Chinese Air Force seems to be only a matter of fate. He was noticed by Mao Bangchu, a representative of the Chinese Air Force who was watching the ceremony during an aerobatic performance by the U.S. Air Force.In 1937, at the age of forty-five, Chennault retired due to illness and accepted an appointment as an advisor to Soong Mei-ling, Secretary-General of the China Aviation Committee at the end of May. He arrived in Shanghai by ship one month before the outbreak of the Sino-Japanese War.

He helped train the fledgling Air Force during China's most difficult time.The American volunteer team he recruited fought against the Japanese army at the muddy airport in Kunming and became the world-famous "Flying Tigers". However, the front cabin of the plane was painted with shark heads with wide mouths. The number of Japanese planes doubled, reducing the casualties of many soldiers and civilians of the Shen Kingdom, and it became a well-known magical story in the Anti-Japanese War.Some people call him an adventurer, but he pays attention to strategy, trains strictly, and shares the joys and sorrows with the fighters, so that everyone can lift off the enemy with superb technology.

two years later.He went back to America for vacation.Sit in front of a warm fireplace at home.I couldn't help thinking about the burning cities on the Chinese battlefield, and the scene of the old fighter jets driven by Chinese pilots falling from the sky.When he saw the table full of exquisite food, he thought of the Chinese farmers and their poor food, and he began to talk to the people who lived a happy life in his hometown.Two months later, he returned to China, and with the full trust of Mrs. Jiang and the Chinese Air Force, he stepped up the training of young Chinese pilots and strengthened their combat readiness.

After the attack on Pearl Harbor, the Volunteer Team was formally incorporated into the U.S. Army Air Corps. In March 1942, Chennault was appointed as the commander of the Fourteenth Air Force in China. He was led by Chairman Chiang and headquartered in Kunming. The British and American allies in Myanmar, the main battlefield is to defend the southwestern provinces. Zhang Dafei joined the army at the end of 1937, finished his enlistment training, and was selected into the twelfth term of the Air Force Academy with excellent results. After graduation, he participated in the defense of Chongqing's airspace. Air Force pilot.In the summer of 1942, he returned from training in Colorado, USA, and formed a Sino-American mixed brigade with the 14th Air Force. The nose was still painted with shark mouths, and the newspapers still called them the Flying Tigers.

He went to my house in Shapingba.Mom said the American food was good, and he got stronger and seemed to grow a little taller.The uniform of the newly promoted lieutenant has a flying eagle on the collar and two lines on the sleeves. He walks with energy! This farewell, he will report to Kunming. We know from the newspapers that the Sino-American mixed brigade will win almost every battle. At that time, the national army on the ground was in a hard fight, Hunan and Guangxi were almost completely fallen, and the air force was the only hero that inspired us. His letters, carefully written in handsome handwriting on light blue airmail paper, were packed in light blue envelopes with strange place names: Yunnanyi, Gejiu, Mengzi... , extending along the Burma Railway to Myanmar.He wrote that one side of the street could be seen from the other side, and there were glass jars in the small shop containing the candy balls that my eldest sister ate most on the way to escape when she was four years old.Pilots drink a lot during their vacations. He was laughed at if he didn’t drink. Once he got drunk after drinking some, he jumped on the table and sang “Hallelujah….” Since then, no one has forced him to drink, let alone persuade him. To dance, in the eyes of precarious people, it is strange that he refuses to join in the carpe piss.In his heart, it is much happier to be able to read the Bible, read books and newspapers, and write family letters to wise and understanding friends than to have fun on earth.

In one letter, he told me: The day before yesterday, he took off to search for enemy traces, and a plane painted with a red sun suddenly appeared right in front of him in a crevice of clouds! He could clearly see the face of the man in the cockpit. Frightened face.He didn't have time to think about it, he only knew that if he didn't shoot first, he would die! Since returning to defense, he can't forget the face of the pilot in the crashed plane. ...I didn't see it, but I can't forget that face in the flames either. Yes, no matter how he confides his contradictions, anguish and homesickness in the letter, he is the kind of hero that all girls yearn for in the era of wars and turmoil, and he is a man far beyond the ordinary. The image of a man, a hero who defends his country, is a huge image that a little girl like me dare not "blaspheme" with personal affection. In the summer vacation of the second year of high school, after lunch, I took him across the campus of CUHK to see my small hanging cave on the bank of the Jialing River.The sun was shining and the river was clear. We sat there talking about the extracurricular books I read and what he had seen while flying.On the bank of the river like a life in the other world, time passed quietly, and we never touched our hearts with a word, let alone love - he returned to Yunnan again, and he went there for nearly a year. In April 1943, we were immersed in the days of graduation and entrance exams.One day near dusk, we were all back in the building preparing dinner, and a junior high school girl came up to me and said someone was waiting for me on the playground. I went out and saw him coming by Merlin, wearing a big army raincoat.He stopped suddenly in the middle of walking, and said, "Bangyuan, why did you grow up so big and look so good-looking in one year." This was the first time I heard him praise me, and I will never forget that feeling. He said that the troops were transferred to Chongqing to change planes, and they had to rush back to Baishiyi Airport before 7:30. He just wanted to come and see me. The jeep driven by his teammates was waiting for him at the school gate without turning off the engine. I followed him to the school gate. Halfway through.When the torrential rain fell, he dragged me to the entrance of Fansun Building, stopped under the eaves, put me in his big raincoat that covered his whole body uniform, and propped me close to his chest.Through the uniform and belt, I could hear his heart beating like a drum.Only for a moment, he let go and told me to go back to the dormitory quickly, saying: "I have to go." In the rain, I saw him running to the door and getting into the car.gallop away. This summer, I bid farewell to the best life in my life and went to the west of Sichuan along the Yangtze River.In 1943, the spring breeze is far away. In this life, I never saw him again. Notes: