War is cruel, and how could there be any tenderness on the battlefield. Your clothing, your language, and your gun barrel explain everything. After the moment passes, what remains is the coldness of the gun barrel and the heat of the blood.
There is a war story that I always remember: When the Soviet Red Army entered Berlin, a Red Army soldier had just dealt with a German. After the gunshot, the battlefield was silent. The soldier looked back to see if there was no more danger, took a deep breath, thinking that he would soon return home to reunite with his wife and six-year-old daughter. He reached into his pocket to touch a piece of chocolate, imagining the sweet look of his daughter eating it. Turning a corner, he saw a six or seven-year-old girl crouching in the broken wall corner. This girl transformed into his own daughter in the soldier's mind, making him feel even more warm inside. Slowly, he took out the chocolate from his pocket and smiled as he walked towards the girl... Just at this moment, the girl pulled out a pistol from behind her back. A gunshot rang out, and as the soldier fell, he was still holding up a colorful piece of chocolate...