Standing on a mountain peak to paint the sea, he brushed the navigator soldiers' steadfast watch onto the culture wall, stroke by stroke
Navigator Soldier Ma Teng of a Certain PLA Navy Unit — Standing on a Mountain Peak to Paint the Sea
■ Shi Yichu, Special Correspondent to the PLA Daily, Wang Ningchuan
Ma Teng applies color to the culture wall.
Along the eastern coast, mountains rise in layers of green. Deep within those mountains, a navigation station of a certain Eastern Theater Command Naval Aviation unit stands in quiet solitude. Day after day, the navigator soldiers (导航兵) stationed here keep watch over radio waves from dawn to dusk, their gaze piercing cloud and sky.
The culture wall (文化墙) in the garrison compound is a striking feature amid this remote and lonely mountain wilderness. The colorful murals on the wall depict the navigator soldiers' vigil: an aircraft carrier cleaving through azure waves, a combat aircraft sweeping out of the cloud swells, a sentinel post on the mountaintop standing straight as a pine — the man who sketched this vast expanse of sea and sky is Ma Teng, a Second-Class Staff Sergeant at the station.
Ma Teng majored in fine arts in college. Coming from a bustling city to this remote station, the sense of displacement left him feeling lost and at a loss. One evening at dusk, the station chief, First-Class Staff Sergeant Meng Yanwei, brought Ma Teng to the freshly whitewashed culture wall and said quietly: "To hold the mountain, you must first hold your heart. This place has the position we stand watch over — it is also the home of the navigator soldiers. You studied painting; use the brush in your hand to paint the landscape in your heart."
Ma Teng did not rush to put brush to wall. He first sketched drafts on paper. His comrades offered their thoughts one by one; he recorded every suggestion, revised the drafts several times, and only then picked up the paint and stood before the wall. Without a long ruler, he soaked a thin cord in paint and snapped it against the wall to mark straight lines. Short on paint, he had his family order supplies online and mail them to the station. Before long, a mural of an aircraft carrier cutting through the waves and sailing into the distance began to take shape.
The day Meng Yanwei returned from duty and looked up to see that sweep of deep blue on the wall, a smile spread across his face. "Ma Teng, Ma Teng — full speed ahead (快马加鞭)!" Encouraged by everyone, Ma Teng could not stop. He brought the everyday work and life of his comrades at the navigation station to the wall, one mural after another.
One painting depicts an old-style mobile navigation vehicle. In those years, flight training often began in the early hours before dawn, and the officers and soldiers had to drive up the mountain in advance. Setting up antennas, calibrating frequencies — whether in torrential rain or in wind as cutting as a blade, they had to hold their post on the mountaintop until the last combat aircraft returned. One deep winter, the antenna was torn apart by a violent gale; several men knelt in the snow making emergency repairs for nearly an hour. The wrenches froze and stuck to their gloves; only after returning to the barracks and soaking their hands in hot water could they pull them free.
Another painting tells the story of a bowl of noodle soup. It was not long after Ma Teng had arrived at the station. One night the temperature plummeted, and he returned from duty chilled to the bone. Just as resentment was welling up inside him, Squad Leader Meng brought him a steaming bowl of noodle soup. "The station may be small, but what we are guarding are the combat aircraft in the sky above." Meng Yanwei's words were like a beam of light that shone into Ma Teng's heart. He gradually came to understand that what he was guarding was not only the distant sea and sky, but the station spirit (站魂) that generation after generation of navigator soldiers had carried forward with their youth.
As the murals grew richer, Ma Teng asked everyone what else could be painted. Corporal Liu Linlin said: one aircraft carrier is too lonely — the sea we stand watch over should have more warships cutting through the waves. Meng Yanwei picked up the thread: "And carrier-based aircraft, bearing our dream of a strong military (强军梦)."
Ma Teng incorporated everyone's hopes into a unified "plan" and kept painting for a long time afterward. Waves surging, combat aircraft with heads held high, a fleet formation like a mountain range — when the final stroke fell, the entire culture wall seemed to come alive.
After finishing the late-night watch, moonlight spilled over the top of the wall and illuminated the figures and scenes in the paintings. Standing before the wall, everyone felt the sea and sky in the murals to be extraordinarily vast. When newly assigned soldiers came to the station fresh from their units, Meng Yanwei would introduce them to the unit's traditions, and the first lesson was always a visit to this culture wall.
One new soldier looked up and asked: will the paintings on the wall fade?
Meng Yanwei smiled and answered with certainty: "If they fade, someone will come to paint them again. When we are gone, there will still be people here to keep the watch."
The mountain wind blows year after year; the grass and trees grow green season after season. The navigator soldiers' steadfast watch is as unyielding as a reef. The murals on the wall remain as vivid as new, and Ma Teng still adds a few strokes from time to time — the newly painted warships are larger, and there are more combat aircraft on the flight decks. The mountains here are so high that the sea cannot be seen, but in the hearts of the navigator soldiers, ten thousand miles of boundless blue waves have long since taken up residence.