No war on the Western Front. . . The last few words at the end. Really uneasy.
Under the seemingly simple and silent words, there is no war as if I mean peace. Who can imagine: hidden behind this sentence, how many wailings of the undead who died under the fire of war.
I can't help but reflect on myself, this kind of war in which tens of thousands of people are sacrificed just to advance a few meters; or after the armistice agreement was signed, in the dilapidated field camp after countless wars, the soldiers cheered and cheered. The last tens of minutes of the agreement coming into effect, simply because the camp general did not recognize the armistice agreement, or his own so-called heroism, or senseless sense of honor - he was not allowed to withdraw. Decide. He rallied his soldiers and, after a pep talk of pep talk, gave one last order - to move forward before the time came to take down the enemy's position in front (obey, of course, or you will Like the corpse of the soldier who was shot in the protest next to it is a good example). In this way, he picked up his steel gun and embarked on this meaningless battle again. The protagonist was stabbed from behind by the enemy with a bayonet just a few seconds before the announcement of the armistice agreement came into effect - penetrating through the heart. In this way, Paul still did not set foot on the way home. He died on this battlefield where the smoke was broken. I deeply regret and regret that he just outlived his comrades (who died one after another). a few days.
The cruelty of war, we go to personally confirm and experience again and again. There is no glory in war, but only the breath of death and despair rendered by gunfire and cannonballs. "God quietly watched tens of thousands of us kill each other, and never dropped the hand of God to save anyone." The cruelty of
's war machine completely overshadowed the enthusiasm and enthusiasm that young people in their twenties showed before going to the battlefield. They never knew, and all that awaited them was death. Here, human life is so low and fragile, leaving only one blood-stained bright red identity plate. Here, indifference to death, hopelessness of life. It robs these soldiers of their lives, their lives, their ideals, and everything that gives the word good.
No matter how glorious and noble words are used to decorate the meaning and greatness of war. Nor can it hide its true cruelty and merciless cold-blooded heart. The blood-red face has a ferocious and ferocious face. It is a monster born from drinking human blood and eating human flesh. How can it try to save something?
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