There is always a war in autumn, but we will never go there again. It is very cold in autumn in Milan, and the night comes early. Then, the light came on and I looked into the window along the street, which was very interesting. There are many game hanging outside the shop. Snow grains stuck to the fox's fur, and the wind wagged its tail. Deer hung stiffly, heavy and hollow, birds floated in the wind, and feathers were blown up by the wind. It's a cold autumn, and the wind is blowing from the mountain.

We are in the hospital every afternoon. There are several roads to go, so people can go through the town to the hospital at dusk. There are two roads along the canal, but they are far away. However, you will always cross the bridge over the canal and enter the hospital. There are three bridges to choose from. On one of the bridges, a woman is selling roasted chestnuts. It's quite warm. Standing in front of her charcoal fire, chestnuts are quite warm in your pocket. This hospital is both old and beautiful. You enter the door, cross the yard, and then go out the other door. Funerals are often held in the yard. There is a building opposite the old hospital, which is newly built with bricks. We meet there every afternoon. We behaved well and were very interested in what happened, sitting on the machine. These machines will bring many changes.

I was sitting on the machine, and the doctor came over and said, "What was your favorite thing to do before the war? Do you do any sports? "

I said, "play, play football."

"That's good," he said. "You can play football in the future, and you will play better than before."

My knee can't bend down, it is flat from knee to ankle, and there is no calf, but the machine will bend my knee down and make it move like riding a tricycle. But now it can't bend, and the machine will shake when it reaches the bend. The doctor said, "It will all pass. You are young and lucky, and you will play football like a champion in the future. "

On the machine next to it is the major. His hands are as small as those of a baby. Two long belts caught his hand and jumped up and down, flapping his stiff fingers. When the doctor examined his hand, the colonel winked at me and said, "Can I play football, too, captain doctor?" He used to be an excellent fencer. Before the war, he was the best fencer in Italy.

The doctor went to the back office and took photos. There is a hand on it. Before being processed by the machine, it shrank almost as small as the major's hand, but after being processed, it became bigger. The major held the photo in a sound hand and looked at it carefully. "Are you hurt?" He asked.

"Industrial accident." The doctor said.

"Interesting, interesting." The major said. He returned the photo to the doctor.

"Are you confident?"

"No." The major said.

There are three boys who come to the hospital every day, about my age. All three of them are from Milan. One of them wants to be a lawyer, another wants to be a painter, and another wants to be a soldier before. After the machine therapy, we sometimes walk back to Cova Cafe next to Scala. We are four people together, so it is a shortcut to cross the * * * production party block. Everyone hates that we are officers. When we pass the hotel, someone will come out and shout, "A Basso gli ufficiali!" " "There will be a boy, sometimes go with us, to form a group of five people. His face is wrapped in a black silk towel, because he has no nose, and his face needs plastic surgery. He left the military school and went to the front. He was injured less than an hour after he first went to the front. The doctor reshaped his face, but his family was too old for the doctor to get a proper nose. He went to South America and worked in a bank. But that was a long time ago, and none of us knew what happened after that. We only know that there will always be wars, but we won't go there again.

We all got the same medal, except the boy with a black silk bandage on his face. He didn't stay at the front long enough to get any medals. The boy who is going to be a lawyer is tall and pale. He was a navy captain of Aditi, and won three medals that we only won once. He lived with death for a long time and was a little cold. We are all a little indifferent, and what binds us together is only meeting in the hospital every afternoon. When we crossed the criminal section of the town and went to Cova, we walked in the dark, the hotel leaked light and the songs burst. Sometimes, men and women will be crowded on both sides of the street, so we have to walk in the street to push them away and let ourselves pass. Nevertheless, we feel that we are connected by what happened here, but people who don't like us know nothing.

We are all familiar with Cova ourselves. Very warm, luxuriously decorated, and the lights are not too bright. Sometimes, it is noisy and chaotic here. There are always girls sitting at desks here, and there are always illustrated newspapers on the wall brackets. Cova's girls are very patriotic. I found that in Italy, the girls in coffee shops are the most patriotic-I believe they are still patriotic.

When the boys saw my medal, they were very polite to me at first and asked me what I had done to get it. I showed them the certificate, and the words written on it were beautiful, both fratellanza and abnegazione. After removing adjectives, it actually means that I am an American, so I was awarded a medal. After that, their attitude towards me changed slightly. Although I am different from outsiders, I am still their friend. I am a friend, but when they read the award certificate, I won't really be one of them, because they are different. When they won the medal, they did something completely different. I was injured, which is a fact; But we all know, seriously, the injury was really just an accident. I have never been ashamed of the ribbon of the medal, although I sometimes drink cocktails and imagine that I did the same thing with them when I got the medal; But at night, the cold wind blew and all the shops were closed. I crossed the empty street and tried to walk home next to the street lamp. At this time, I knew I would never do such a thing. I'm afraid of death. I often lie alone in bed at night, afraid that I will die, and wonder what it would be like if I returned to the front.

Those three medal winners are like falcons; I am not an eagle either, although I may look like an eagle to people who have never hunted; They, that is, those three people, know the doorways here better, so our relationship has cooled down. As for the boy who was injured on the first day of going to the front, he and I are still good friends, because he will never know what he could have been like now; So he has been rejected, and I like him because I don't think he can be an eagle.

A major who used to be an excellent fencer despised heroic deeds. He spent a lot of time correcting my grammar when we were sitting on the machine. He once praised me for speaking Italian well, and we could communicate smoothly. One day, speaking Italian seemed too easy for me, and I couldn't even raise high interest. It is easy to say anything. "Ah, yes," said the major. "Then why don't you practice your grammar?" So, we began to pay attention to grammar. It was difficult to learn Italian at once, and I was afraid to talk to him until I thought of the corresponding grammatical structure.

The major comes to the hospital regularly. I don't think he missed a day, but I'm sure he doesn't believe in the use of these machines. For a time, none of us believed that these machines were useful. One day, the major said it was meaningless. At that time, the machine was brand-new, and it was us who wanted to verify its efficacy. This idea is stupid, the major said, "just like other principles." I haven't learned grammar yet. He said I was embarrassingly stupid, he was a fool, and he confused me. He is small, sitting in a chair very straight, with his right hand in the machine and his eyes looking straight at the wall in front. The long ribbon jumped up and down, flapping his fingers.

"What will you do if the war is over?" He asked me, "Don't make grammatical mistakes!"

"I will go to America."

"Are you married?"

"No, but I want to get married."

"You are more stupid," he said. He seems very angry. "Men can't get married."

"Why, Mr. Maggiore?"

"Don't call me' Mr. Maggiore'."

"Why can't men get married?"

"A man can't get married, he can't get married," he said angrily. "If he can't keep anything, he shouldn't let himself get those things, and then he can't keep them. He shouldn't have done this. He should see what he can keep. "

He spoke angrily and painfully, looking straight ahead as he spoke.

"But why can't he stay?"

"He can't stay." The major said. He looked at the wall. Then, he looked down at the machine, pulled his little hand out of the belt and patted his thigh hard. "He can't stay," he almost cried. "Don't argue with me!" Then, he asked the paramedics to get the machine. "Come and turn this damn thing off."

He went to another room for phototherapy and massage. Then, I heard him ask the doctor if he could use the phone. He closed the door. I was sitting on another machine when he returned to this room. Wearing a cloak and hat, he went straight to the machine where I was sitting and put his arm on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he patted me on the shoulder with a sound hand and said, "I didn't mean to offend you. My wife just died. You have to forgive me. "

"Oh-"I felt sorry for him and said, "It's so sad."

He stood there biting his lower lip. "It's too difficult," he said. "I can't accept it."

He looked straight ahead, skipped me and looked out of the window. Then he began to cry. "I can't accept it at all." He choked up when he spoke. Then he began to cry. He looked up and saw nothing. He stood upright as a soldier, biting his lip and tears hanging on his cheeks. He walked past the machine and walked out the door.

The doctor told me that the major's wife died of pneumonia. She was still very young. The major waited until he could not go to war before marrying her. She was ill for a few days. No one thought she would die. The major hasn't been to the hospital for three days. Later, he came to the hospital at the usual time and tied a black towel on the sleeve of the military uniform. When he came back, there were big framed photos hanging on the surrounding walls, all of which were photos of trauma before and after machine treatment. There are pictures of three hands hanging in front of the major's machine, which are similar to the major's hands and have all been fully recovered. I don't know where the doctor got these photos. I always understood that we were the first people to use these machines. These photos don't mean much to the major because he just looks out of the window.