Combat Power "Bearing Fruit" in Saline-Alkali Land — Visiting the Firing Range of an Aviation Unit Under the Northern Theater Command Air Force
Saline-alkali land that cannot grow crops is an island unto itself on this earth. No matter the season, the ground is always a vast expanse of white, as if winter has permanently settled into the soil.
The firing range of an aviation unit under the Northern Theater Command Air Force is situated in exactly this kind of saline-alkali land. People have long waited for something to break through the soil—
A group of people came here for that purpose. For more than 70 years, everything here has revolved around the "target."
"To be precise, our mission is to ensure the safe and smooth conduct of live-fire ground-target training with multiple types of munitions," the range commander explained.
Behind him, several brick-and-concrete bunkers bore the marks of battle—their surfaces pocked with craters of varying depths. In the distance sat decommissioned aircraft and vehicles.
"These are our pictographic targets (象形靶), used to simulate a combat environment when setting up target arrays," the commander said. The principle is: "Fight how you train, train how you fight (仗怎么打，兵就怎么练)." Our pilots need to be familiar with different types of targets.
Second-Class Staff Sergeant Wang Mingsheng pulled on rubber gloves, grabbed a shovel, and charged up a slope where several bags of slaked lime, carried up by his comrades, had already been set down on the flat ground at the top. He deftly sliced open the bags and flung a shovelful of lime across the crest of the slope.
"I work pretty fast—one toss covers at least seven or eight meters," Wang Mingsheng told the reporter. The fastest way to spread the lime is to throw it forward, but before you throw, you have to check the wind direction: whichever way the flag is blowing, that's the direction you throw.
Every soldier at the range is "multi-skilled in one specialty (一专多能)." As a member of the security and range-maintenance detachment, whenever the range receives a live-fire training mission, Wang Mingsheng is always posted at the entrance to prevent local villagers from wandering into the danger area.
The soldiers assigned to sentry duty are always the first to enter and the last to withdraw. "Working ten-plus hours straight is normal. A roving sentry will bring us meals in between," Wang Mingsheng said. The hardest part is the night training after darkness falls.
"Outside the guard tower it's pitch black—you can't see a thing. At times like that, having the light on actually makes you feel even more alone," he described.
Sometimes when the weather was clear, he tried counting the stars overhead and got as high as more than 700. "You count from one end to the other, and by the time you count back you've forgotten which ones you already counted—it all gets mixed up."
When he was truly exhausted, he would pick up the walkie-talkie and make strange sounds to "perk up" himself and his fellow sentries on watch.
"The guard towers now have warm air in winter and fans in summer—conditions are much better than before," said Bai Jinsheng, leader of the security and range-maintenance detachment.
Bai Jinsheng, who has been at the range for more than ten years, has never calculated how much of his time has been spent on sentry duty. On winter nights he has gathered dead branches and dry grass, lit a fire, and watched it die down ember by ember; in summer he has sheltered under a tree for shade, and when the shadow shifted eastward, he moved with it.
Little written record has been found of the range's early days; only a few old photographs faithfully document them: there was no drinkable water in the saline-alkali land, and soldiers had to rely on farm tractors to haul water from division headquarters dozens of kilometers away; even with doors and windows shut tight, a layer of dust would settle on the surfaces of tables and chairs.
Even so, there were those willing to put down roots in this barren land, to survive here measured in years—some for their entire military careers.
"That was the first time I ever saw a real dud," Yao Hao said, gesturing as he spoke. "I had just asked Corporal Kong what to do if there was an unexploded ordnance, and when I turned around, there was this big round thing just lying on the ground."
Kong Cun, squad leader of the target-inspection squad under the training support detachment, conducted a preliminary on-site assessment and reported the situation through proper channels.
Kong Cun is from Qufu, Shandong—the hometown of Confucius. As a major source of military recruits, Shandong has a longstanding tradition of supporting the military and giving preferential treatment to servicemembers' families. But that was not the only reason Kong Cun enlisted.
"My maternal grandfather participated in the War to Resist U.S. Aggression and Aid Korea. I've seen his papers. But he never talked about it at home," Kong Cun said. Carrying a vague longing to serve the country through military service, Kong Cun made his way through various channels into the ranks of the People's Air Force.
"On the surface I looked calm, but inside I wasn't," he said. Having systematically studied explosive ordnance disposal, Kong Cun understood the dangers of unexploded ordnance well: "Improper vibration can directly trigger a detonation, threatening the lives of nearby personnel."
"When there is live-fire training, we first observe through surveillance cameras and assess areas where unexploded ordnance may be present based on factors such as the volume of displaced soil," Kong Cun said. The target-inspection squad then dons protective gear and enters the impact area carrying drones, shovels, and other equipment.
In his eyes, shell craters speak for themselves—a single glance gives a rough indication of which crater might be concealing an unexploded round: "To confirm a crater, you have to carefully scrape the soil away layer by layer with the shovel. You can't just drive it straight down."
For unexploded ordnance buried below the surface, Kong Cun has accumulated extensive investigative experience. He carries a notebook the size of a playing card, on which he has recorded the characteristics of multiple types of munitions.
Sentry duty remains equally taut. Until a round is cleared, the sentries do not stand down. Even in a place devoid of human habitation, a solid defensive line protecting the lives and property of the people is maintained.
Whenever a fighter jet passes overhead, Kong Cun always thinks of his grandfather—that old man who came through an era of "more spirit than steel (钢少气多)," of "defeating the strong with the weak (以弱胜强)": "They weren't afraid to die back then. What do I have to be afraid of now?"
Kong Cun has passed on all his skills and experience to Yao Hao. In the few minutes of bedtime talk each night, he tells Yao Hao about the day's events and points out areas for improvement.
"He's exactly what I imagined a squad leader would be—like Shi Jin from 'Soldier Assault' that I watched as a kid," Yao Hao said.
Comrades who entrust their lives to each other at moments of life and death, and who can be candid with each other and improve together in ordinary times—that is the best preparation for war.
No matter where they are posted, trying to grow something is the unquenchable vitality of soldiers stationed independently at small, remote, dispersed outposts (独立驻防、小远散点).
"At first nothing would grow. Word was that spinach eventually took hold, then they planted mondo grass, and little by little the land was nursed back to life," the range's political instructor said.
In recent years, the variety of targets deployed at the range has become more diverse. In addition to traditional ground targets, night illuminated targets, radiation targets capable of emitting signals, and moving targets using unmanned vehicles have been added, enabling a richer simulation of target states and providing pilots with a more realistic training environment.
"We are not a frontline combat unit, but we have our own way of contributing to combat power generation (战斗力生成)," said First-Class Staff Sergeant Zhang Rui.
"Two meters long, left-right direction good!" During one training session, the score was transmitted from the control tower the moment the pilot pulled out of the range airspace.
"We need to accurately report the results of the previous pass before the pilot begins the next bombing run, so that aiming accuracy can be corrected and live-fire precision improved," Zhang Rui said.
On the surveillance screen, live munitions cut through the air like arrows; outside the screen, tracking them at the same high speed, is the sharp gaze of the target-scoring operator (报靶员).
The ground targets captured by surveillance cameras inside the target area are subject to a degree of distortion. For the target-scoring operators, this means they must process perspective relationships in their minds, converting the observed point of impact into numerical readings—"long," "short," "left," "right"—and call them out.
"There are two training methods. One is to plant small marker flags to simulate impact points, have the target-scoring operators in the tower attempt to read them, then measure on-site the distance between the flags and the target center, using the comparison to build a connection between visual perception and actual distance," Zhang Rui said. "But in reality, a live round doesn't stand still like a flag."
Kong Cun once trained using the second method: "A comrade scoops up a shovelful of dirt and flings it into the air to simulate the instant of impact." The burst of earth is gone in an instant, placing greater demands on the target-scoring operator's powers of observation and memory.
Despite the support of high-speed cameras, light-source sensing, ultra-slow-motion playback, and other technological means, the time available to target-scoring operators remains limited.
"Combat aircraft are being upgraded and replaced. Some models fly faster, and the interval between successive bombing passes is shorter," Zhang Rui said.
Perhaps they will never go to the battlefield, but every effective strike on the future battlefield will absolutely not be unrelated to their efforts.
Technology continues to advance, and perhaps one day this work will be replaced by unmanned systems—but barren soil only becomes fertile after enormous investments of time and effort.