A collection of four dispatches written during military training in 2018.
Military Training: Meeting You Here in Zhejiang
Military Training, A Baptism
It is only now that I have discovered that a single drop of sweat takes only seventeen seconds from landing to disappearing. Yet the mark seared into the ground by that drop of water lingers there. That mark is not merely proof that the droplet once existed; it is, even more, the imprint of our striving.
What falls is sweat, drop by drop; what rises is one resolute soul after another. At first, when we put on our uniforms, most of us treated them as no better than cheap goods from a roadside stall. Who would willingly wear something so airless and uncomfortable just to stand in the sun?
But once we donned the camouflage and stepped onto the training ground, looking at the neatly dressed classmates around us, a sense of ceremony, faint and hard to articulate, slowly arose in our hearts. Walking into the formation, watching scattered ranks pull together into assembly and dress right with unbelievable speed, that sense of ceremony grew stronger still.
Military training is a baptism of body and soul. Call it a baptism of the body, and behold those upright figures, row upon row and column upon column, silently enduring beneath the burning sun. Call it a baptism of the soul, and quietly reflect on your own change: from being undisciplined and indifferent at the outset, to becoming meticulous and wholeheartedly committed afterward, we changed without even realizing it. This, then, is the baptism that military training brings.
Military Training, A Challenge
Before joining military training, I think I held both a longing for army life and a certain casualness toward it. "Military training? I went through it in middle school and high school. It is just going through the motions. College training will probably be the same!" But the moment training began, I discovered I had been wrong.
Military training is not simply standing at attention, turning, saluting, marching in step, and the like. On a much broader scale, it lets every classmate truly shine like gold. Those with musical talent join the performances; those skilled in editing and production join the company headquarters; those with strength and a spirit of service serve as medics and water carriers; those with a sense of responsibility serve as deputy platoon leaders and squad leaders. Beyond that, there are choirs, dispatches, conducting, sentry duty, tug-of-war... so many splendid undertakings, each able to bring out the unique value within every classmate. All of these are challenges to one's character, challenges to one's courage, challenges to one's perseverance.
Of course, what truly counts as a challenge is none other than the rigorous training itself. Each drill of marching to a fixed position is a tempering of the arms and of perseverance; each adjustment of dressing right is a challenge to the focus of attention; each goose-step leg-raising drill is a challenge to balance and coordination... In the face of challenge, we may fail, but we will never shrink back! Calling out "Report!" again and again has not destroyed our confidence; it has only made our will firmer. Yes, we may not yet be able to achieve perfection, but we can advance toward it!
Military Training, A Unity
Since military training began, the two characters for "unity" have grown ever clearer in my heart. From regiment to company, from company to platoon, from platoon to squad... level upon level of division, layer upon layer of management. Treading through the faint glimmer of dawn, we arrived one after another at Zijin Field. On the very first morning class, quite a few people were late, which dragged down the assembly speed of the whole company. From that day on I knew: the reason a group activity is called a group activity is not because many people take part, but because the people taking part form a single great collective.
If a collective is a precisely operating machine, then each member is one of its small parts. The absence or breakdown of any single part will cause the entire machine to malfunction.
A "dress right" that looks so simple is not just casually shuffling small steps and being done with it; it demands evenness in row and column. A march in step that looks so simple is not just casually walking along; it demands neatness and uniformity. A stationary marching step that looks so simple is not just casually lifting a leg and stamping the ground; it demands coordination and unison...
Behind these seemingly small movements is a force called "unity" that drives them. It is precisely this force that allows us, the small parts, to fit closely together and operate in concert.
Military Training, A Mission
Some say that military training is only a test of the body, but this view is one-sided. If everyone were merely trained into a mighty yet unprincipled human-shaped machine, what would distinguish them from mass-produced factory weapons? What guides us to throw ourselves earnestly into training, what we wear ourselves out striving for, is not only the strengthening of the body, but, even more, the bearing of a mission.
I was especially struck after being fortunate enough to attend General Luo Yuan's address. Before that, all I had carried was a vague, dreamy aspiration to serve the country, with no method to speak of and no path to call my own. Toward the malicious slander of heroes circulating online, I had always reacted with nothing more than a wry smile. But after attending the address, it suddenly struck me: why do reports of celebrity gossip emerge endlessly, while publicity for heroes and great figures is so meager? Why are remarks that smear history and pander to Japan reactionaries spread far and wide, while remarks faithful to history and loyal in serving the country go unheard? "No one sweeps the general's tomb, yet the household affairs of an entertainer are known throughout the world." Faced with media outlets in society that turn things upside down for the sake of catching the eye through commercial hype, faced with public opinion's tendency toward homogenization and entertainment, we young people of this era must resolutely fight the battle of online opinion well, leaving no place to hide for any evil force that seeks to distort history, smear heroes, or erase conviction! When a hot event arises, we must not be cold-hearted onlookers, nor opinionless keyboard warriors. We must use a heart of utter sincerity and justice to dissolve every misunderstanding, and clear the names of our heroes!
This, then, is the sense of mission that military training has brought to each of us.
Military training has lasted but a few short days, and already it has let us know our new selves from another angle. In the days to come, may we hold firmly to our original aspiration, and make daily progress!
【First dispatch, completed at 23:57 on August 30. 1,795 characters. Awarded one point.】
Military Training: Zhejiang Made Splendid Because of You
Daybreak: First Light at the Horizon
The phrase "sleeping in" is, for those of us in military training, no more than a joke. Set aside the high-hung sun and the campus busy with traffic, and behold instead Qiushi Park veiled by night, which holds a flavor entirely its own. Look, please: a thin sliver of dawn light quietly lifts a corner of the dark night, as though in an instant it expands without limit, dyeing the clouds a sweep of crimson and gold. The alarm rings; you turn over, glance, and see it is the 4:35 alarm. Suppressing the urge to steal a little more sleep, you rise, make the bed, dress and put on your shoes in the dim dorm, fasten on your cap, and in our sea-blue camouflage uniforms we, together with the Zijin field, greet the sunlight. Yes, this is our daily morning class, both rousing the half-asleep, half-awake spirit and consolidating the previous day's training. It was not until military training that I discovered the most beautiful sunlight is reserved only for those who rise early.
Mid-Morning: Sweat Pours Like Rain
Some say young people are like the sun at eight or nine in the morning, brimming with vitality and vigor. But I would say young people are like the sun around ten o'clock—radiant yet tenacious, fiery yet supple. And it is in this very interval that we carry out our daily training. Whether practicing standing at attention, turning, marching in step, or goose-stepping, we adhere strictly to the dress code, putting on our caps, pulling up zippers, and fastening every button. The training uniform is airless and stiff against the skin, almost unbearable. Standing straight in the sunlight, we silently feel the sweat trickle down chest and back, down arms, down calves, building up a wet field within the hard shell of cloth, nearly enough to break us. Within half an hour, every T-shirt is soaked through. At first I simply could not bear the day-long sticky dampness, but the further it went on the more I realized: sweat dries in the end, dirty clothes can be washed again, but this stretch of experience will be treasured forever in our hearts, becoming a wealth for life.
Beneath the sun, what we shed is not only sweat but also youth—a youth that, once lost, never returns; a poetic youth penned in the ink of struggle; a passionate youth driven by relentless effort.
Afternoon: A Kaleidoscope of Culture and Sport
If the drill movements of military training are high-intensity, repetitive muscle training, then the various lectures, addresses, and exercises become an excellent path for us to grasp essential extracurricular common sense. From the spirited military training mobilization rally, to General Luo Yuan's address full of patriotic ambition, to the substance-packed lecture on medical first aid, to the dorm evacuation drill, the cafeteria safety exercise, and the gymnasium fire-prevention briefing—so long as we listen attentively and study seriously, it is not hard to acquire many useful emergency skills.
Beyond these activities, the grand tug-of-war competition also got under way amid cheers from the students. On the surface it looks like a game, but think on it carefully and it is a different kind of education. Only by uniting in heart can the desired result be achieved. On the road toward an ideal, the support of others is indispensable, and at times one needs encouragement and cheers from companions. Strategy must also be valued; one cannot just blindly exert force. In the course of striving, no matter what the staged outcomes are, faith must not be lost. Take this tug-of-war, for instance: we, the warriors of Heroes Company Three of Stormwind Regiment Two, lost the first round in two separate matches by misstep, then rallied to win two rounds in a row, claiming final victory. In truth, win or lose, the instructor's words still echo in our ears: whether we lose or win, we must not lose our bearing! The tug-of-war final has not yet ended; whose hands will the flower fall into? We do not yet know. But what I want to say is this: as long as we have toiled and struggled together, we are warriors who do not lose!
Late Night: Thoughts and Words Collide
The colorful daily life does not, of course, draw to a close once evening falls. Back in the dorm, before doing laundry, bathing, and sleeping, we still need to complete one piece of mental labor: writing in our own words what we have seen, heard, and felt. In my view, all writing is the outpouring of the heart's mood; every work is a vessel for emotion. Whether examination essays or casual reflections, they share a single core: thought. Of a thousand essays, ten thousand words, the whole may be summed up in a single word: thought. Thought arising from what? From what is seen by day and pondered by night, all of which becomes thought. Thought of what? Thought of one's own shortcomings, thought of others' strengths, thought of the weight of the matters met today, thought of the merits and faults of the people met today. And after thought, what then? Then writing to record and to carry it, so that one day it may serve as recollection. Compared longitudinally, only then does one know whether the road ahead is shrouded in mist or distinctly visible, only then does one know whether in facing matters one is following the rules or breaking the old to forge the new.
This night, a thousand strands and ten thousand threads arise solely from military training; we know where they begin, we know where they end.
This night, a thousand feelings and a hundred sentiments arise solely from military training; we know their cause, we know their consummation.
【Second dispatch, completed at 0:05 on September 2. 1,459 characters. Awarded three points.】
Young People, Please Sing the Military Song
There is a kind of strength called unity of heart. It takes root and sprouts within a collective, growing sturdy, until in the end its tangled roots and branches flourish in dense leaves.
There is a kind of faith called the soul of a martial nation. It rises slowly within the people's hearts, ever brighter and ever hotter, until at last it sets in the zenith and lights up all four directions.
There is a kind of resolve called the passion to serve one's country. It quietly grows in the breasts of the high-minded, becoming clearer day by day, until at last it bursts forth, its righteousness moving heaven and earth.
Past: Not Knowing Where to Go
Lost. Indolent. Subservient. We at the beginning were no more than travelers who had lost their bearings in a heavy sea of fog, stumbling along, our hearts bearing either fright or ignorance. Without a clear direction, we grew up in confusion; without a lofty goal, we languished in indolence; without a firm stance, we drifted along, subservient. Add to that the misplaced messaging from certain social media, and we even formed a uniform set of values: idolizing celebrities, loving pop songs, indulging in ease and self-comfort. Each new flashpoint of public opinion stirred up another storm of "circle jargon," and at every mention of hardship we shrank away as if from disaster, while at every mention of dedication we sneered.
Could this really be the label fastened to us for life?
Absolutely not!
Then: An Image of Steel
I wonder whether you have ever seen rank upon rank of soldiers, gallant in bearing, advancing firmly with unified steps? I wonder whether you have ever heard one military song after another, rolling like thunder, brimming with surging passion, voicing aspiration? Listen, please, to those neat and resounding footsteps; that sound rises not from the ground but from the heart. Listen, please, to that fervent and stirring military song; that sound enters not through the ear but wells up in the mind.
"It is a clear morning / the pigeon whistles join the reveille / yet this world is not at peace / even an age of peace has its surging winds and clouds." Listen, please, to that impassioned vow, that hot-blooded promise, that responsibility which each of us will, in the end, shoulder.
We who live in an age of peace cannot indulge in ease and pleasure. We must advance; we cannot retreat! When that day truly comes, we will not flinch! Half a month of military training may not truly let us live like soldiers forever, but this seed can take deep root in the soil of the heart. Once the soldier's image of steel is imprinted deep within, we have a goal to advance toward and the strength to do so.
To stand is to stand upright and unmoving, the head supporting heaven above, the feet planted on earth below.
To fight is to fight forthrightly and ever forward, opening the way at the front, supplying the strength at the rear.
Hope: Strengthening Our Martial Nation
When the majestic military music sounds, I think those forceful drumbeats are not simply music but a call to the soul. "Are you ready / brothers in arms / when that day truly comes / rest assured, motherland / rest assured, dear ones / for victory I will advance bravely." In the most beautiful years of youth, displaying our youthful spirit is a choice we cannot hesitate over.
Pay no mind to others' rumors and gossip, pay no mind to others' cold-eyed indifference, pay no mind to others' contempt—the bugle has already sounded, and it is time to advance bravely toward the resolute self; advance bravely toward fertile ground; advance bravely toward the ideal far away! Perhaps we, at eighteen or nineteen, have not yet had the chance to set foot on the battlefield, but I firmly believe that as long as we hold deep love for home and country, no matter where we may be, we will always remember our original aspiration and continue to press forward through trial!
"Since we have chosen the distance, we go on regardless of wind or rain."
Young people, please sing the military song aloud at this moment.
【Third dispatch, completed at 0:08 on September 4. 1,054 characters. Awarded four points.】
Rain Falls, but Please Grit Your Teeth
The weather in Hangzhou is like a timid little child: take a small grievance, and it cannot help but knit its tiny brow. A sob it fails to swallow, and it carefully begins to whimper. If it still cannot let go, then with a "wah!" it bursts into bitter tears. But bad moods always pass like smoke; in just a moment the rain ends, the clouds scatter, and brightness returns.
Rising in the morning I heard a pitter-patter outside the window that sounded like rain falling, and looked out to find it was just as I had guessed. The grey clouds had quietly seized the territory that should have belonged to the blue sky, as if plotting some great event. Listening to the sound of the rain, I could not help imagining a scene in my mind: a group of people, dressed in neat yellow raincoats, completing one drill movement after another seriously and meticulously in the morning rain. I felt a faint thrill at this novel experience—I, who even regarded military training in the rain as a kind of game, never imagined that on this sudden rainy day we would truly find ourselves.
Today is the first time our company has carried out rifle-drill formation training. At first, I felt a little sorry that the fantasy of "the silver-white bayonet shimmering with bright sunlight" had been washed clean by this unexpected rain. But when I truly walked toward the armory and solemnly received the heavy Type 56 semi-automatic rifle, with its faint scent of machine oil, that trace of regret vanished without a trace. Eagerly shouldering the 3.85-kilogram rifle, we felt very proud. After all, with a rifle we have a "second life," we have a treasure worth our protection. We would rather be drenched ourselves than let the rifle suffer the slightest harm, and gladly took off our raincoats to wrap around the weapons.
On the way out of the armory, hurrying to the training ground, we all carried this curiosity and pride.
But when we actually formed up in ranks, we found that a rifle is not so simple, not so easy to shoulder. From the height of the hand to the angle of the rifle's body, from the placement of the arm to the swing of the rifle in striking, from the steadiness of the carry to the uniformity of the lowering—every detail requires every person in the rank to be precise, stable, and uniform, and that is the greatest difficulty.
But all of this was only the prelude.
That afternoon, on the great Zijin parade ground, the regiment was rehearsing. The weather seemed not bad: no rain, no sun, and quite cool. We, who were marching for the first time on the red rubber track with rifles in hand, were excited and also a little nervous. The instant the "March of the Chinese People's Liberation Army" began to play, we, on the instructor's command, started marching. But, whether because we were not holding the rifles properly or because our attention was drifting, the rhythm of our steps did not quite match the melody. We could not help speeding up unconsciously; then someone would slow down, and at last the steps became disordered.
Our hearts grew restless. The heavens seemed to feel our anxiety and quietly began to rain. Without raincoats on, we had to grit our teeth and continue our movements through the wash of the rain, doing our utmost to adjust to the right rhythm. But thinking "Why is it raining?" and "It's raining, it's raining—we'll catch a cold!", we, after adjusting the rhythm, gave most of our attention to the weather. Both the neatness of our formation and our individual bearing slackened a little. And so, in a kind of distracted state, we walked through the first lap.
I had thought that completing one lap would be enough, and when I learned we would have to do another, I could not help feeling angry: with this weather, with the rain falling, still carrying rifles and walking—how is this all right? At the thought of the rifle, my right arm suddenly began to ache. Yes, this rifle of nearly eight jin had to be supported by one hand and one shoulder, held at a fixed angle to the ground. We had to grip the buttstock with the right hand, about a fist away from the body, press the rifle with the elbow's hollow, and rest the barrel against the shoulder. To hold this for just a few minutes would be one thing, but we had been carrying the rifles cumulatively for nearly three hours, from morning into afternoon, while maintaining the same posture. For me, who had never gone through any sort of muscle training, it was simply a disaster. While carrying it still I could deceive myself with numbness, but the moment I moved, the soreness from the arm surged toward my brain like the tide, wave after wave, never resting. Combined with my dissatisfaction with the training to begin with, I was wandering near the brink of collapse. Several times the searing pain in my right arm nearly made me choose to give up.
The rain kept falling, and seemed to grow heavier still. The water ran down my hair into my clothes, ran down the cuffs of my trousers into my shoes. I cannot hold on. Give up. A voice quietly sounded in my ear. I looked left and right, and found no one was speaking to me. Could it be an auditory illusion? But the soreness from the right arm grew ever stronger; the nerves of a body grown weak trembled ever more. All of this said: give up; you are not made for carrying a rifle.
No! I jerked my eyes up to the sky. A grey expanse, oppressive, damp. No—is it really anything more than a little rain? Could this make me yield? Since joining military training I have overcome all manner of bodily and spiritual obstacles; could I shrink back before this? Impossible! My right arm trembled involuntarily, but I struggled to suppress it. I gritted my teeth, trying to scatter my attention and divert the pain coming from my right arm. I looked at the classmates around me; they too were holding on. What reason did I have to give up? Just as Secretary Zheng Qiang said, sun and rain are both nature; there is no need to resist, no need to flee. Facing wind and rain, we are not afraid! We are not cowardly! We advance bravely!
The second lap with rifles in the wind and rain was particularly splendid. Quietly closing my eyes, lifting my head, feeling the rain fall, I seemed to feel a blessing from the sky. Yes—what does it matter that rain falls? Grit your teeth, and every difficulty will surely be overcome by us!
【Fourth dispatch, completed at 23:59 on September 7. 1,771 characters. Awarded two points.】