[Deng Fang] Memoirs of My Late Husband

The first time I met Deng Fang was on the third Friday after I arrived in Xinjiang. A southerner who was accustomed to the mist and rain in the south of the Yangtze River came to the remote Gobi where the wind and sand were raging. The acclimatization almost cost me half of my life. Just when my superiors were considering whether to transfer me to the central hospital, I recovered, so the organization immediately sent someone to pick me up and sent me to the regiment in an unknown small county. In fact, I didn't know the specific work content in Xinjiang beforehand. This is a secret that ordinary comrades cannot have access to. In order to keep it secret, I almost came here with my eyes darkened. I stayed in the Legion for two weeks and then moved to a more remote camp. The instructor who came to pick me up at the gate said this was a test flight bureau. I looked around and told him honestly that I didn't see any difference between this and a warehouse. I'm afraid no one will believe it. I don't speak Uyghur, and I can't even tell the complete name of the camp. At first, I even only knew the code names of the people around me. This was of course due to the need for confidentiality, and it was also a basic operation for a foreign medical worker. I, a doctor, really didn't need to know that much. Just do it and that's it. But when I followed the instructor carrying medicines and equipment to a smoking fighter jet that had just stopped in the Gobi, and saw Deng Fang passed out in the cab, the instructor might have been too anxious, so he climbed up and shouted his name, "Deng Fang! Deng Fang!" I was still a little surprised. This is not something I should know now. Although I have also received training, my physical strength is still not as good as theirs. A man codenamed Wild Wolf almost dragged me forward. Deng Fang was a very young man. The impact of the birds had already cracked his helmet and disappeared, leaving only a black nylon cable tie hanging around his neck. His face was so swollen that it was hard to see what he looked like. For a moment, I couldn't tell whether the blood on his face was his or the bird's. The commander and several others quickly rescued him from his seat. I stepped forward to check. Fortunately, most of the blood was not his, and the situation was not too bad. There were no open injuries on the body, mainly soft tissue contusions on the head, subcutaneous hematomas, and possible concussions. Linear or hidden fractures of the skull were not ruled out, and further examination was needed... After the evaluation, I helped lift him onto the stretcher. Since the car he was riding in was modified from a jeep, the stretcher was not easy to fix. We could only try our best to hold Deng Fang with our hands to prevent Deng Fang from being shaken off the stretcher during the bumps. There were all soldiers in the car, and I could feel that if I hadn't been here, they might have discussed the ins and outs of this matter. This silence made me feel oppressed. My stress tolerance test scores have always been good, and I have long been accustomed to this feeling, so I tried to observe the expressions on everyone's faces to deduce the outline and direction of this incident, but I saw the eagle-like instructor trying to secretly hold back tears. Suddenly, I became curious about this unconscious man. Intention: Deng Fang