War Photographer's Notebook

At noon on the second Saturday in August, it was almost at the same time that Wei Ran boarded the US carrier-based helicopter flying to the main island of Palau alone.

In the already overcrowded Xiangtai Izakaya, no matter the diners who are eating or the diners who are queuing up, they can clearly see the old photos that have not been coded at all from the live news on the large LCD screen directly above the bar , and the diaries of Captain Evans and sailor Hawkes of the Hall.

In these revolving pictures, the two nuclear recruiting pilots sometimes sat on the life raft holding their weapons, sometimes sat at one end of the traffic boat, and sometimes sat on the side of the boat with their pants down, showing painful expressions.

"Why do I seem to have seen these two pilots in the photo?" A black tourist from the United States said while picking up a piece of sushi and stuffing it into his mouth.

"What you said reminded me, and I felt very familiar looking at them." Another white tourist from the United States at the next table followed suit.

In just a few words, the background in the photo has changed to a beach on a small island, and the diary on the other side of the screen has also switched to what happened on the island.

"God!"

A middle-aged Caucasian aunt let out a loud exclamation, and with her fat fingers, she pulled out a postcard that she had just bought for $10 from her bag, pointed at the two pilots on it who were standing next to the fighter jet and yelled, " It's them! The two pilots in the news are them!"

While speaking, the white aunt also pointed to the shrine next to the bar not far away and the wall full of photos next to the shrine!

"Hula!" After a while, a few reacted quickly and ran to the side of the shrine, pushed away the beautiful Japanese tour guide and at the same time did not forget to wipe the oil, and then exclaimed loudly, "It is them! It is indeed They! Didn't they die in battle? So the stories we wasted half an hour just now hearing are all made up?"

As soon as these words were uttered, even the two shopkeepers who were busy in the bar stopped their work, walked out of the bar with their families and looked at the TV that was facing away from them.

"Really are"

One of the bosses of the izakaya didn’t finish his sentence, and the photos of Captain Evans’ diary displayed side by side on the TV just happened to be changed into Hawkes’s notes, while on the other side, the food almost turned into A picture of pilot Akira with a stick!
I don't know whether it was intentional or unintentional, not only did this bloody and brutal photo not have any codes at all, but it even zoomed in on Akila's face separately, as if afraid that the audience would not be able to see clearly, and the background that originally introduced history The narration also changed to a slightly trembling female voice and began to read Hawkes' notes on the content of this photo!
"Man-eating Wendigo! This family is a man-eating Wendigo! Those two in the photo killed Captain Evans of the USS Johnston!"

A blond male tourist yelled in English in panic, and then, under the astonished gaze of everyone, he stumbled and ran out without even wearing shoes, so he supported the landscaping pine tree at the door and started I retched.

"vomit--!"

At this time, the diners who were still tasting the food just now couldn't help but start to retch, and a few tourists from the United States among them shouted angrily, that the person in the photo killed the American hero.

"Snapped!"

With a crisp sound, a Japanese-style teapot filled with barley tea flew out of the hand of a dark-skinned American tourist, and precisely hit the shrine in the distance.

This crisp sound was also like a signal. In an instant, this small izakaya went upstairs and downstairs, and more and more tourists picked up all the things they could pick up and smashed them at the shrine, the bar and even the small izakaya. The stage, but only avoided the LCD TV.

And more tourists raised their mobile phones, took pictures of this scene and posted them on their own social platforms, or some smart ones simply called the media.

However, in just one week, the once mediocre Xiangtai Izakaya has become a representative of the spirit of recruiting nuclear dance and covering things, and has become the darling of the Internet and the media. Even the turnover has increased by more than ten times than before.

But on this unremarkable and hot Saturday noon, this Japanese grocery store, which had just been promoted to the sky, was slapped down by an invisible big hand named Hela, and it became "" in the blink of an eye." Man-eating devil", "Nuclearist who tampered with history", "Shameful deserter" and even "Murderer who killed heroes" and many other elements.

Even the small shop itself, which is not too big, is in a mess at this time, the shrine enshrining the ancestors, the photos and letters hanging on the wall, the thick and large guest books, and the Those postcards were all scattered all over the ground, or turned into fragments that could not be put together, or were imprinted with footprints.

Compared to the Kano family who were forced to hide in the kitchen and resist the door, while panicking and calling the police over and over again.

Outside Xiangtai Izakaya, some American tourists also began to gather under the instigation of caring people. Some of these people held corrugated cardboard signs, some wrote "Man-eating Wendigo" in English, and some simply used Both English and Japanese read "shameful liar" and even blood-red "murderer!" There are even groups of two and two, working together to carry a box of beer that I don't know where it came from. It looks like it is obviously ready to throw it out at any time .

And in a further block, some Japanese-born Palauans who were also incited seemed to be moving in the direction of Shota Izakaya.

Seeing a violent conflict approaching, in the parking lot outside the izakaya, a few tourists from the United States also felt the vibration of their mobile phones in their pockets, and silently put down boxes of beer or folded placards. As soon as he stuffed his arms, he turned around and left the crowd, or got into the car that was waiting in advance, or walked directly into the hotel not far away.

"Are we leaving?"

In a tourist bus, a black man with dreadlocks asked in a low voice to a white man sitting beside him. While speaking, he also took out a handful of scattered dollars and a mobile phone from his pocket. TV remote.

"What are you doing with the remote control?" A white-skinned man sitting in the same row as him asked in puzzled Russian English with a flick of the tongue.

"I just took it out of the cash register"

The black guy pointed to the Shota Izakaya across the road from the window, "I just wanted to find them for some change, and I just saw that waiter who was about my age was going to turn off the TV, and they actually put the remote control on the cash register. In the machine, I suspect that the remote control is made of gold."

"So you brought the remote control?" the white man asked helplessly.

"I also stunned it by the way"

As the black man said, he pulled out a copper censer about the size of an ashtray from his jeans crotch. The corner of the censer was still stained with a little blood.

Waving his trophy proudly at the white man beside him, the black boy put it in the bucket bag beside him and said whimsically, "I got it from that shrine, maybe it is worth something antiques.

Besides, Kryuzzi, when on earth are we going back?I can't wait to go to the Chinese pawn shop where I often take care of business and ask how much this thing can sell for. "

"Boss told us to wait for the American warship to leave before going back, and we are not allowed to cause trouble during this period."

While responding in Russian English, the man casually lit the cigarette in his hand, raised his chin towards the crowd walking in the distance, "White, how about we take a gamble?"

"What's the bet?" White, the black man sitting next to him, took the cigarette case and lighter and asked.

"Do you think the Japanese Palauans will burn down the izakaya or fight with the angry tourists from America?"

"For $50, I bet they'll have a fight with those brainless tourists."

Black White said, and took out a few crumpled US dollars from his pocket and stuffed them into the armrest gap of the front seat, "But who incited those Palauans? Does anyone among us speak Japanese? ?”

"how could I know"

The Russian-English-speaking Caucasian Kryuzzi lowered his voice slightly, "But you better not have so much curiosity, remember the bastard that the boss stuffed into the punishment team some time ago, who can dismantle joints? I heard Boss said he was also sent to Palau."

"The one you performed in the workshop last time?"

The black man White shrunk his neck subconsciously, a pair of big terrified eyeballs wished to stick out of the eye sockets to observe the rest of the people sitting on the bus, he swallowed nervously and asked in a low voice, "Kriucci, you know Who is that person?"

"How could I know? Am I dying?"

Kryuzzi also lowered his voice, "White, don't blame me for not reminding you, the membership of the punishment team is confidential, if you."

"No need to remind you"

White slid his body under the seat for a short distance, and when the back of the seat in the front blocked his view, he had already dug out a big red lingerie-shaped sunglasses from the bucket bag beside him and put it on his face "I'm not curious about anything, and I don't want to know anything."

Hearing this, Kriucci looked carefully at his companions sitting behind him, and snapped his fingers at the driver of the tourist bus, "Jerry, please get us out of here quickly, this ghostly place is too dangerous."

Before he finished speaking, the bus started to drive to the seaside resort hotel they had booked in advance.

Almost on the front and rear feet, in a coffee shop only three to forty meters away from Xiangtai Izakaya, a gentle woman also put on wide sunglasses, pressed a dollar under the cup, and walked out of the coffee shop. Got into a black business car.

"Call my anxious nephew"

The woman lit a cigarette and said casually, "Let him make an appointment with his friend for me, I want to meet him."

"Understood." Before the burly man sitting in the co-pilot finished speaking, he had already pulled out his cell phone and dialed it.