War has no real heartache to anyone other than those who have experienced it. All those who go to the battlefield are clowns. Of course, it’s not that they want to be clowns, but the pawns of politicians, strategists and diplomats. Soldiers on the battlefield can’t help themselves. What's the matter with Guan Qing? You made a detailed battle plan, you mediate from it, you don't hesitate to ask someone to grab that stinky piece of carrion on the battlefield for you, you can make a pot of tea during the day, and you can go to hug a woman at night to find it. Huan has a love dream by the way, you will be uncomfortable without a nightmare, you can do it alone, and you have to let others accompany you to have a nightmare. But it can be traced to the root of these strict words, blood and blood, blood and blood flying in the hail of bullets, but it is just for the so-called turf, interests or dignity. Kubrick's "Full Metal Jacket" is an outright mockery of War Madness.
Crazy mechanic training.
The biggest mockery of this part is the fat soldier's smile. I could lie in bed and eat a delicious meal, I could lie in a woman's arms and massage breasts, but now I'm dragged to the base to train, climb walls, run on piles, and starve, why can't I laugh, rascal instructor Just to make you laugh, hooligans are just to make you laugh! It's not serious when you laugh, but I know you laughed, and it sounded like you were snoring while watching. Gun, you are my woman, my genitals, my love, my robot proof, my stage for natural born killers. You watch, you laugh, and you advocate killing.
After training, I became one with the gun, my skin was the gun's skin, my penis was the sight, and the bullet was my sperm. I slept with it in my arms, and I went through the clouds with it. Its name is Shalian, it is clean and beautiful, its skin is smooth, its eyes are my eyes, its second spring is dating me, its first spring is unknown to whom, a thin film means nothingness, It excites me and keeps me up at night. I shoot at you, and in the end let me die!
Crazy frontline battlefield.
Put down the gun, so I put down my life, so I have no soul, I go to the kiln, I go out to the restaurant, I bargain with the street girl, I flirt with my confidantes with sisters, flirt, I exchange five dollars for the cover on the bed The rain turned clouds, I was addicted to self-destruction at the information desk ten times a day, and when I put down the gun, I put down my life and my soul.
Put down the gun, I am reporting, reporting on humanity, reporting on our generosity to our opponents, serving tea and water, delivering medicine in blood, um, these are far from enough, I am still reporting, reporting on the death of opponents, falling in batches, Like tender grass pressed by a tank. Numbers don't matter, I tell ten people to die and not one to die. Numbers boost morale, and numbers are more orgasmic than a woman's body.
With my gun on my shoulders, I'm on the front lines, and I'll defend my gun, my life, my beautiful Shalene to the death. I wear the Medal of Peace, I wear a hat to kill by nature, I shoot at the sky and the civilians, they run, and the running footsteps represent a guilty conscience, and standing still is a veteran, audacious. I shoot, towards the blank wall, I shoot, towards the invisible ruins, I shoot, my gun is in step with me, and I twitch with High.
My gun, you deceived me, you made me dance with death's arm, you made me read the psalm of death, you made me kill your sister, your beautiful face, your eyes and arms begging to shoot. I grit my teeth, give you peace, give you rest, so that you won't have to endure it any more.
I put down the gun, but I didn't lose my life. I am strong, conscious, and emotionally stable. I can still recall the lingering lingering with the school flower in my dreams. I am sand. If I lose the gun, I will go home. When I go home, Mickey Mouse is called Chacha. I find a wife and start a family. I have a lot of children. The people who have been on the battlefield are tough guys, and it is easy to satisfy her.
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