Looking back now, I am surprised that I can recall the beginning of the bombing so vividly. The color and tension of that day are still clearly printed in my mind. That day, I suddenly found that there were 12 silver dots in the clear sky, which were far away from me and made an abnormal buzzing sound, which I had never heard before. I was seven years old that year, and I was standing on a meadow, staring at the little spots in the sky that hardly moved.

Suddenly, on the edge of the nearby forest, I heard a huge bomb exploding. In my child's eyes, what I see is that the earth rises into the sky like a huge fountain. I want to run and see this special sight. This scares me, but it also fascinates me. I'm not used to war, and I can't connect these planes, the roar of bombs, the mud splashing from the forest and my seemingly inevitable death into a single causal relationship. Without considering the danger, I began to run in the direction of the forest where the bomb was dropped. Then one hand grabbed me and dragged me to the ground. "Get down," I heard my mother's trembling voice. "Don't move!" I still remember my mother sticking me next to her and saying something I didn't know or understand: a dead end.

? At night, I am sleepy, but I can't sleep. We had to leave the city and escape at night like prisoners. I don't know where to go, but I know that escape has suddenly become a must, a new way of life, because everyone is escaping.

All roads, main roads and even country roads are littered with chaotic carriages, trolleys and bicycles with packages and boxes on them, and countless frightened people swim helplessly. Some people run east, others run west, north and south; They run in vain. When they are really tired, they lie down, sleep for a while, and then continue their aimless journey. I held my sister's hand tightly. My mother warned us not to get lost; But even if she didn't tell me, I could feel that some kind of dangerous disaster was spreading all over the world.

My sister and I are walking beside the carriage. This is a simple carriage covered with hay. On the hay, there is a cotton sheet on which my grandfather lies. He can't move. He's paralyzed. And victims of landmines. The air raid came, and everyone rushed into the ditch, except my grandfather who stayed on that deserted road. He watched the planes pounce on him, watched them dive and aim, watched the ammunition spurt flames, and listened to the roaring engines flying over his head. After the plane disappeared, we went back to the carriage, and my mother wiped the sweat from my grandfather's red face. Sometimes, there will be several air raids a day, and after each air raid, sweat will penetrate into grandpa's tired face.

We are entering an increasingly terrible scene. Smoke billowed on the horizon and the war was slowly extinguished. We passed abandoned villages and lonely burned houses. We passed through the battlefield, and there were rubbish everywhere, discarded weapons and equipment, bombed railway stations and overturned vehicles. The air is full of gunpowder and the smell of burnt and decomposed bodies after the massacre. There are dead horses everywhere, and they are weak in the human war.

? When winter came, we stopped to avoid the bombing, so as to avoid the bad weather. For people under normal circumstances, winter is just another season. But for the poor in wartime, winter is a disaster, a ubiquitous and continuous threat. We found a house in the slum, barely living in the snow, but we couldn't catch fire; We can't afford to buy fuel, and we dare not risk stealing it. Stealing coal and wood will be sentenced to death-life is worthless at this time.

We have nothing to eat. My mother stood by the window moping for hours, and I could see her dull eyes. I can see many people staring at the street below from the window, as if waiting for something. I was running around the backyard with a group of homeless children. This is both a game and a search for food.

? One day, I heard that they would distribute candy in a shop near the warehouse, and we hungry and cold children immediately lined up. We stood in the cold all night, and the next day, we huddled together to get a little warmth. Finally, the shop opened, but instead of candy, we were given an empty metal can full of fruit candy. I am weak and cold, but now I am happy. I took the baby home and took care of it carefully. It is precious because there is sugar residue on its inner wall. My mother boiled some water, poured it in and diluted it into a sweet drink: this is our only nutrition these days.

I don't quite remember when and how the war ended. My memory is always pulled back to the first day on the grass. On that day, the explosion destroyed the tranquility of flowers and broke the innocent time of my childhood. No matter how hard I try, I still don't know what we did in the first place to make us suffer the inevitable harm caused by all these wars.