Reborn South Africa as a police officer

Chapter 2399 I feel like I am a person

For the British Empire, Indian soldiers are cheap consumables. They can be recruited after death. There is no need to rescue them, let alone waste precious medicinal materials on Indian soldiers.

The British military also didn't have time to identify which soldiers were loyal to the empire and which ones participated in the rebellion. The best result for the surviving soldiers was to retire without receiving a penny of compensation.

Not surprisingly, Cottard's application to leave the camp was rejected, and the officer on duty ruthlessly rejected Ashke. Even though Ashke knelt down to the officer on duty, the officer on duty did not change his mind.

Cottard stood up firmly on crutches, and the wound on his leg was not bleeding, but thick water.

Cottard picked up a pair of scissors as he left the tent.

"Wait, don't be impulsive, let's think of other ways—" Ashke panicked, not knowing what Cottard was going to do.

"There's no time, I don't want to die here, and I don't want to lose a leg—" Cottard limped towards the camp gate.

If it is in southern Africa, losing a leg is not the end of the world. Soldiers serve the society to provide artificial limbs for disabled soldiers. The local government will solve life and work problems. You will be discriminated against. Southern African soldiers have a high social status, and any neighborhood is proud of those soldiers who have fought for their country.

In India, losing a leg means not only being kicked out of the army, but also being abandoned by the society and even the family.

Many disabled soldiers choose to wander in order not to drag their families down, and there is a high probability that they will eventually die like wild dogs and cats in a corner that no one cares about, and disappear without a sound.

Cottard has a family, and the key is that he has four children to take care of. He cannot die, let alone lose the ability to work.

"Don't do this, let's think of other ways—" Ashke kept persuading Cottard.

Sumit stared at Cottal's back in a daze, and suddenly picked up a wooden root and strode to follow. This is their only weapon now.

At the gate of the camp, several British military officers were chatting.

"It sucks, being sent to this goddamn place, with these goddamn bugs, goddamn weather, goddamn riots, goddamn—" grumbled a freckled British officer of a young age. Big, probably just graduated from military school.

"It's good now, at least there are no damn Japanese." Another older officer was very satisfied. Compared with the Japanese, the troubles now are just drizzle.

"Southern Africans are now capable of attacking the Japanese mainland, why not do that?" Some people are dissatisfied with the southern African military.

"Because the southern Africans want to torture the Japanese severely and let them die miserable, just wait and see, after the war is over, the country of Japan will probably disappear." There are still sober people.

"South Africans are so hard—"

"What is this? I used to work in Jinling. When the Japanese captured Jinling, you couldn't imagine what happened. I can only say that the Japanese are all devils. They deserve it, everyone deserves it—"

The officers chatted enthusiastically until someone finally noticed Cottard on crutches.

"Who told you to come out, go back, you are not allowed to walk around—" the freckled officer was arrogant, and his attitude towards Indian soldiers was worse than that of servants.

Just kidding, servants are human too.

Indian soldiers in the eyes of British officers——

Gray cattle like the Russians.

Cottard didn't speak, and although he was walking slowly with a cane, his steps were firm.

Sumit finally caught up with Cottard and looked at the freckled officer coldly without saying a word.

"What are you going to do? Do it again?" The freckled officer drew his pistol, and he was confident now.

Then the freckle officer noticed that more and more Indian soldiers came out of the tent.

"Hurry up and report, there is a situation at the gate of the camp, we need support—" The experienced officer has already realized that something is not good.

Support troops soon arrived, the same British and Indian troops, the same Indian soldiers.

When they saw Kottal on crutches, the Indian soldiers supporting the troops showed their faces, and some soldiers looked at the officers with anger in their eyes.

"Sir, I need the necessary treatment. I don't want to die, and I can't die. I still have four children to raise—" Cottard's scissors were in his pocket, otherwise he would never have had the chance to come before the freckled officer.

"That's your business. Now follow the order and go back to your tent and wait. A doctor will treat you." The freckled officer's face was pale. He was just inexperienced and not stupid.

"I've been waiting for seven full days, and I don't have time to wait any longer. If you don't want to treat me, then let me find a way." Cottard was expressionless, and his heart was completely desperate for the British Empire.

"I told you, a doctor will come to you—" the freckled officer said harshly.

"Stop lying, no one cares about our lives, we are fighting for the British Empire, people die every day, but no one cares about us, we love the British Empire, but the British Empire doesn't love me!" Sumit couldn't bear it anymore, Not only were the wounded soldiers left unattended, but even the amount of food was decreasing, which clearly meant to starve them to death.

In fact, it is not starving to death.

There was plenty of food in the camp, but the officers did not dare to distribute it in full. The mood of the entire 79th Division was not stable. Soldiers who were full and had nothing to do would cause big trouble.

Reducing the supply will not only reduce consumption, but will also calm down the soldiers, and they will not have enough food to eat, so they will naturally have no energy to make trouble.

"We're going to live—"

"We don't deserve to be treated like this."

"We are all loyal soldiers of the British Empire—"

More and more Indian soldiers took the initiative to speak, and their emotions became more and more agitated. The crowd began to surge towards the gate of the camp, and the situation was about to get out of control.

At this time, several military vehicles suddenly drove over from a distance.

Seeing the southern African flag and the Red Cross on the body of the military vehicle, some soldiers gradually became quiet.

"Sorry, please wait a minute, we are in trouble here—" the British officer dared not open the camp gate, fearing that it would cause more trouble.

"What's the matter?" The officer leading the team asked without getting angry.

"It's a little trouble, and it will be dealt with soon." The British officer had an embarrassed expression on his face. You guys are here at a bad time. You come early or late, but you come at this time. Isn't this adding fuel to the flames?

The leading officer nodded in understanding, with a slightly weird expression.

I used to think that mutiny would only happen in France, but I didn't expect the same to happen in Britain.

Nothing like this has ever happened to Southern African armies.

Including the troops of the Southern African Union, most of which are composed of Africans, and this kind of thing has never happened.

At this time, several doctors in white coats jumped out of the truck. They traveled a long distance, and the car ride was also very hard.

The Indian soldiers in the camp were even more excited.

"Why don't you open the door to let them in? You don't care about us, do you allow the southern Africans to help us?" Cottard's hand was already holding the scissors in his pocket.

"Open the door and let them in—"

"Let's get out—"

Other Indian soldiers were more emotional, and soldiers were still different from non-violent non-cooperative Indians.

Indians who believe in non-violent non-cooperation will never come to serve in the army.

The Indians are not without blood. When they have an advantage in numbers, they are full of momentum.

"What the hell is going on?" The senior officer of the 79th Division finally appeared, and the division commander Crofts was in a bad mood.

Mutiny is unacceptable in either army.

The current allied forces in Southeast Asia are mainly composed of the southern African army, the US military, and the British army. The southern African army and the US military are tossing the Japanese in different ways every day. The British army is busy with internal strife, and the contrast is too stark.

As the division commander, Crofts must be responsible for the mutiny of the 79th Division. He has been busy contacting the country to shirk responsibility these days, and has no time to appease the emotions of the troops, and he is not aware of the undercurrent.

Cheap consumables should have no emotions.

Just accept the arrangement of fate obediently.

An officer present explained to Crofts in a low voice.

"Let them go back to the tent, tell them there will be a doctor to treat them—" Crofts looked disgusted, he would not communicate with the soldiers himself.

If you really want to go deep into the soldiers to communicate in person, this kind of thing will not happen.

Now it seems that Pei Tang is really a good soldier, no wonder he can become the president.

"We don't trust you anymore, you've been lying."

"Open the gate, we want to live—"

"We need enough food, we need doctors and nurses—"

The officer's reassurance was clearly ineffective.

"Open that damn door and stop them barking—" Crofts ordered, not realizing that there was something wrong with that.

The gates of the camp are about to open.

When the military vehicles drove in, the Indian soldiers were cheering, and all the British officers breathed a sigh of relief.

"Your injury is a bit serious, and it must be treated immediately. Is there an operating room?" The military doctors immediately went to work.

All the British officers who heard this sentence were embarrassed.

Of course there is an operating room, but it cannot be used by lowly Indian soldiers.

What's more, the operating rooms of the British and Indian troops may not necessarily meet the standards of southern Africa.

"I don't have time to prepare the operating room, let's deal with it on the spot—" The leading officer frowned. There are too many wounded soldiers who need to be treated, and it is estimated that the medicines brought are not enough: "Send a telegram to the headquarters, we need more doctors and medicines -"

Looking back at the expectant and frail Indian soldier, he sighed: "—Bring more food, you won't even run out of food, right?"

The latter sentence was asked to the British officer next to him.

The British officer's expression continued to be awkward.

Of course there was food, and it was plentiful.

"Heh, even if the master throws away the rotten food, he won't give it to us—" Cottard was very conscious.

"Hold on, I'm going to give you an injection of anesthesia to relieve your pain." The anesthetist wore a mask and couldn't see his expression clearly, and his voice was gentle.

"Thank you—" Cottard broke the defense instantly, and the corners of his eyes were moist.

Anesthesia needles are also very expensive, but I have heard that only British officers were eligible to use them, and Indian soldiers had to endure the pain even if they died.

"Relax, relax, Li is a top student who graduated from the Johannesburg Medical School, have you heard of Johannesburg? It is a beautiful city, advanced and developed, with a beautiful environment, a mild climate, and people living in harmony—" the anesthesiologist relieved Kota by chatting. your emotions.

"That must be heaven—" Cottard's voice faded away.

"I'll go, this has to be cut off—" Li felt heavy as he untied the hastily wrapped gauze.

The wound has been severely inflamed, and the operation will be very troublesome, and it may not be possible to save the leg in the end.

The key point is that there are too many wounded soldiers who need to be treated. If amputation, Cottard will only lose one leg. If too much time is spent here in Cottard, other wounded soldiers with more serious injuries may lose their lives.

So don't say that military doctors are simple and rude, time is life, which is most vividly reflected in the battlefield.

"Sir, please try to keep his legs. He still has four children to raise. If Cottard loses his legs, his children will be over, and his life will be over—" Ashkel clasped his hands together, his face full pray.

"I'll try my best—" Without wasting time, Li cut the rotten muscle with precision.

When Cottard awoke it was already the next day.

It was still a familiar tent, but the environment was quite different. The ground was clean, and the dirty clothes piled up in the corner of the tent had disappeared. The air was filled with the smell of disinfectant, and the ground was unprecedentedly clean.

Ashke changed into clean clothes and sat by the bed. He washed his hair, cut his hair, shaved his beard, and probably took a bath again. It was as if he was a different person, completely new.

"You're finally awake?" Ashke said with joy on his face.

"Wocao is exhausted. Southern Africans are good at everything, but they are too harsh. It's my problem that I don't take a bath. What does it have to do with them—" Sumit walked in with a wooden basin, which was just washed. nice clothes.

"Don't you feel that after taking a bath, you feel much more comfortable?" Ashke has fallen in love with taking a bath.

In the past, Indian soldiers also took a bath, but compared with the bathing recognized by southern Africans, Indian soldiers used to take a shower at most.

If you need bath products to take a bath, if you don't have shower gel, you must have soap and shampoo.

In the past, Ashke had never seen shampoo, not to mention shower gel, and soap had to be limited.

After communicating with military officers in southern Africa, I realized that the distribution supplies of the British and Indian troops also included shower gel and shampoo.

There are distributions, but no distribution of troops, so where the shampoo and body wash go, it is worth pondering.

"How do you feel?" Sumit was concerned about Cottard.

"It feels good, better than ever—" Cottard could feel the pain in his leg.

It's right that it hurts, it's great, at least the leg is saved.

"You really have to thank that southern African doctor. He did the surgery for you for a full four hours. After the operation, you needed help to stand up. He also used expensive anti-inflammatory injections for you—" Su Mit said With emotion on his face, Sumit felt like a human being only when dealing with southern Africans.

Cottard stared straight at the roof of the tent without saying a word.

(End of this chapter)