The bullets outside were still whistling, Ryan was panting heavily, he didn't dare to move at all now.
He still couldn't understand why that child stabbed him, he looked at the veteran, with some fear in his voice asked, "Am I going to die?"
The veteran was silent for a few seconds, which plunged Ryan into deep despair.
He felt he might not have much longer to live.
"If I say no, you definitely wouldn't believe it's true." After a few seconds, the veteran spoke, "You probably have about ten minutes left, if no one comes to take you for surgery beyond this time, I can only take your dog tag back."
Ryan instinctively grabbed the small steel tag on his neck, with his name, work number, and blood type on it, this was prepared for when blood was needed in the field hospital.
Many times, wounds from war can't wait for the blood test results, so everyone had been tested before joining, their blood type would be stamped on the dog tag with steel.
