Barracks Observation | Decoding the "Integration Cipher" of a New Squadron

Decoding the "Integration Cipher" of a New Squadron

■ PLA Daily Special Correspondent Xu Yiyang

Personnel of an aviation maintenance squadron of a unit under the Central Theater Command Air Force return from a skills competition with awards, receiving a warm welcome from their comrades. Photo by Sun Mengfei

Step inside the aviation maintenance squadron of a unit under the Central Theater Command Air Force, and a scene of vitality unfolds—

The "maintenance culture" (机务文化) corridor painted by the hands of officers and soldiers on the outer walls of the barracks is vivid with color; in a corner of the honors room, various models of self-developed tools are on display; inside the makers' studio (创客工作室), several backbone personnel are bent over a discussion about an innovation project… None of this was mandated from above. It quietly sketches the distinctive character of this "newborn" squadron.

In the spring of 2025, a single order merged two squadrons that had each maintained different aircraft types into one new collective. How could two teams with entirely different traditions cohere, in a short period of time, into a "family" capable of fighting hard battles? This maintenance squadron chose to use cultural immersion and similar bonds as its connective tissue, letting integration take root in the details of every day, in every instance of working side by side, and in every act of shared creation.

In just over a year since the merger, this new squadron has seized first place at a skills competition, been rated as an advanced unit in overall development, and is steadily turning the test of "combining two into one" into the achievement of "one plus one greater than two." This integration journey, only just begun, is providing a vivid footnote for the autonomous development and construction of grassroots companies in the new era.

Two rivers must find a common riverbed before they can truly merge into a surging new stream

In early spring of last year, a single order merged two aviation maintenance squadrons—each maintaining a different aircraft type—into one body, and a brand-new unit designation was born.

Squadron political instructor Wang Muyuan clearly remembers the scene at the first all-personnel military assembly: officers and soldiers sat divided by their original units, the boundary unmistakable, introductions stiff and awkward. After the assembly, Wang Muyuan overheard soldiers murmuring: "We don't even maintain the same aircraft type—one group is at the east end of the airfield, the other at the west end. We barely saw each other before. How are we supposed to coordinate maintenance support going forward?"

The words fell lightly but struck Wang Muyuan hard. He understood: merging unit designations takes only one order, but merging two hearts requires crossing many invisible divides.

On one side was the "veteran" squadron maintaining one aircraft type—meticulous in work style, deep in tradition, holding a long and honorable record of ensuring flight safety. On the other was the "fist" squadron maintaining another aircraft type—sharp in style, bold and aggressive, repeatedly distinguishing itself in major missions. After the merger, the personnel of the new squadron carried two entirely different "atmospheres."

Where was the breakthrough point for integration? The squadron Party branch committee met deep into the night. Wang Muyuan summed it up: "The unit designation is just a form. We need everyone's memories to overlap—only then will hearts find a place to settle." The next day, a "root-seeking" initiative was launched: dusty certificates of honor and old photographs were brought out, and in the veterans' quarters, stories of years past gradually awakened in conversation.

Reviewing archives and listening to accounts, they found that although the two squadrons had different histories, both shone with the same light of "ensuring flight safety." "The honors do not belong separately to two teams—they are our common wealth," Wang Muyuan told the soldiers.

A proposal to build a new honors room won the response of the entire squadron. Officers and soldiers carefully polished medals, pennants, and certificates and displayed them together. On the five-meter-long unit history wall, the two glorious lineages were designed as intertwining lines, like tributaries flowing into a main river.

On the day the new honors room opened, officers and soldiers walked silently past the display cases. The honors that had once stood apart were shown together, and everyone felt that this was not a simple merger but two rivers surging forward on a shared riverbed.

The cohesion of the spirit requires a material carrier to sustain it. The squadron seized on the brigade Party committee's "Four Questions on Troop Conditions" (兵情四问) initiative, proactively reported its development ideas, and with the support of higher authorities, officers and soldiers used their spare time to paint walls and repair facilities, launching an all-hands "new home construction campaign" (新家建设大会战).

Change appeared first at the dining table. "Taking good care of the food is the fundamental attitude toward officers and soldiers; doing the work well is the return for the organization's care." The squadron Party branch collected the taste preferences of officers and soldiers, added new cooking equipment, and introduced nutritionally customized menus. Hand-grabbed flatbreads, lamb pao mo, and other dishes appeared in succession; laughter in the mess hall increased, and a sense of "home" belonging spread from the tips of tongues.

Two rivers must find a common riverbed before they can truly merge into a surging new stream. After repeated deliberation by the squadron's backbone personnel, sixteen characters—"centralized and unified, mutually respectful, closely coordinated, united in cooperation" (集中统一、互相尊重、密切配合、团结协作)—were cast into a red steel plaque and erected beside the main road, becoming the visible "squadron soul" (队魂).

Specialist Du Shuaishuai was once discussing a troubleshooting method with a comrade when the two disagreed and voices began to rise. As the air grew tense, Du Shuaishuai caught a glimpse of the four red characters "united in cooperation" (团结协作) outside the window. He took a deep breath: "I was too hasty just now. Your method is faster, mine is more reliable—wouldn't combining them be better?" The other soldier paused, then nodded.

After the work was done, Du Shuaishuai said to new soldier Sun Mengcheng: "Those red characters aren't there just to look at. Every time there's a conflict, I think about those sixteen characters. We're one family—our strength has to go in the same direction."

Old trees must put out new branches; new seedlings must put down deep roots—only then can they together hold up a broad canopy of shade

The home was taking shape; the ethos was taking root.

In the merged maintenance squadron, those with twelve or more years of service account for more than one-third of the total. They are experienced and technically skilled—a precious asset for generating combat capability. But in the early days of the merger, some veterans had become "bystanders."

Some felt out of place in the new environment and were unwilling to take the initiative to integrate; some were wary of the differences in aircraft types and hesitant to give full play to their abilities; some veterans even felt the new collective was somewhat "unfamiliar" and showed little enthusiasm for their work.

How to turn these veterans from "bystanders" into "the main force of development" became the second examination question in the squadron's development.

Members of the squadron Party branch committee fanned out, holding individual heart-to-heart talks with veterans—making no demands, only listening to their thoughts, collecting problems and conveying trust through sincere communication.

Master Sergeant First Class Zhang Jun is a universally recognized "old workhorse"—solid in work style, meticulous in attention to detail. When the squadron's study room was first consolidated, equipment was arranged in disorder and no one managed its use. While the instructor was fretting over this, Zhang Jun came forward on his own initiative: "Instructor, leave this to me—I'll make sure it's done right."

He not only put the study room in perfect order but also, at a "Strivers Speak" (奋斗者说) storytelling session, used plain language to recount his decades of dedication, deeply moving his younger comrades.

To let the veterans' experience shine, the squadron added a "Barracks Lu Ban Wall" (军营鲁班墙) to the honors room and arranged "Three Small Innovations" (三小革新) display boards in the corridor, showcasing their "small inventions, small creations, and small innovations" (小发明、小创造、小革新). Regular technical exchanges were organized, with veterans explaining principles on the spot, making technical innovations "visible and tangible."

Trust and a platform ignited enthusiasm. The squadron proposed establishing a "makers' studio," and Cui Chen, universally recognized as the "technical ace," was the first to sign up. He set his sights on the problem of low efficiency and high risk in troubleshooting the temperature-limiting system of a certain fighter aircraft, led a team in two months of intensive work, and successfully developed a portable detection device that compressed troubleshooting time from several hours to a matter of tens of minutes.

Veterans willing to pass on knowledge, new soldiers bold enough to forge ahead—the squadron's "mentor-apprentice pairing" (师徒结对帮带) program put talent development into a virtuous cycle.

Staff Sergeant Second Class Wang Yulin and college-graduate soldier Shao Zhenyu became a "friendship across generations" (忘年交), a celebrated story in the squadron. Wang Yulin passed on in full the "fault intuition" and "safety boundary" awareness accumulated over decades; Shao Zhenyu, in turn, used systematic thinking and clear mind-mapping to organize and summarize the veteran squad leader's invaluable experience into standardized procedures.

"Before, I was reluctant to pass on my skills. Now, watching my apprentice grow, I feel a tremendous sense of accomplishment," Old Wang reflected. Young Shao also admitted: "The squad leader's experience is a treasure. Being able to learn from him is my good fortune." In the mutual advancement of teaching and learning, skill and spirit are passed down from generation to generation.

Change accumulated in small increments. Where people once said "our original squadron," they now mostly say "our unit"; professional discussions no longer divide by "your aircraft type, our aircraft type," but instead ask "how do we solve this fault of ours?" The squadron guided this trend, establishing a "backbone assault group" (骨干攻坚组) to let veterans take the lead and shoulder the main burden in training, innovation, and mentoring.

Late one night, Wang Muyuan passed the makers' studio during his bunk check and saw Cui Chen adjusting new equipment with two young officers. He gently pulled the door shut without disturbing them. Moonlight like water fell on the sixteen-character "squadron soul" plaque; the four characters "closely coordinated" (密切配合) were especially clear.

Old trees must put out new branches; new seedlings must put down deep roots—only then can they together hold up a broad canopy of shade. Wang Muyuan knew that these veterans, once feared to become "bystanders," were now firmly "riveted" to the positions where the squadron needed them most. The core force of the squadron's development had been fully activated.

Bearing a shared mission, the flight path extends toward a deeper and more distant sky

The cohesion of the spirit and the activation of strength must ultimately be tested in actual combat conditions. In late autumn of last year, a notification caused the entire squadron to snap to attention: the annual aviation maintenance position-based training competition (机务岗位练兵比武) was about to begin. This time it was different from before—it tested not only individual skills but also crew coordination, multi-specialty cooperation, and the squadron's overall maintenance effectiveness.

For a new squadron whose integration was not yet a year old, this was unquestionably a comprehensive "major examination."

When the news arrived, the atmosphere in the squadron was somewhat charged. Some were eager and ready; others muttered privately: "We've only been merged for so long—can we really compete with those 'veteran' squadrons?" "If we do badly, doesn't that prove the merger failed?"

The squadron Party branch keenly sensed this mood and quickly convened a combat and training deliberation meeting to unify thinking: "This is the best stage to display the fruits of integration and test the effectiveness of autonomous development—treat it as a 'whetstone' for improving overall maintenance capability!" Squadron commander Qiu Zifeng took the lead, independently breaking down tasks against the competition guidelines and formulating a detailed preparation plan.

From that point on, the squadron entered an intense "competition period." The apron, the study room, corners of the corridors—all became training grounds where every minute counted. Regulation manuals were thumbed until their edges curled; the sound of keyboards and low-voiced discussions often continued past midnight.

Technical backbone personnel poured out their deepest reserves of experience, taking young soldiers through repeated "sifting" drills and coordination practice; young officers and soldiers dug in with determination, vowing to "absolutely win honor for the new squadron."

On competition day, the examination hall was a battlefield. The good news came on the final day: the new squadron won first place in the overall team score and took top honors in multiple individual events. Officers and soldiers began to understand that honor has no "yours or mine"—this was "their shared victory." That weighty laurel, won with their sweat, was the most meaningful proof of all.

At the end of last year, the results of the "Four-Iron" (四铁) advanced unit selection were announced. This new squadron, on the strength of its solid development achievements and its concrete integration results over the past year, earned recognition from the brigade Party committee.

Shortly afterward, the "Four-Iron" advanced unit citation was placed in the honors room, complementing the unit history wall. Sunlight fell and illuminated the sixteen-character steel plaque; the red characters shone ever more brilliantly.

Today, whenever a new group of comrades joins the squadron, they always first pause before that row of steel plaques. They carefully study the inspiring "flight paths" (航迹) of their predecessors recorded on the unit history wall, go to the honors room to examine closely the tool models designed by the squadron, and with reverence carefully polish every medal and trophy.

Personnel of an aviation maintenance squadron of a unit under the Central Theater Command Air Force jointly maintain the camp environment. Photo by Sun Mengfei

From the confluence of two rivers to the surging of a new stream, this new collective has walked its way to warmth and to strength.

At the end of the runway, the battle eagles roar into the sky. This newborn collective, just like the battle eagles it guards, is solid and reliable, steadily bearing a shared mission, its flight path extending toward a deeper and more distant sky.

Reporter's Notes

Tearing Down the "Wall" in the Heart

■ PLA Daily Special Correspondent Xu Yiyang

During a break in the interviews, I stood beside the airfield runway watching the sun slowly set beyond the western edge of the apron. Beside me, Corporal Luo Xin pointed into the distance and said: "Before, even though we had merged into one squadron, some of the aircraft were at the west end of the airfield and some at the east end. Only about a kilometer apart, but we didn't run into each other much."

One kilometer—no more than three minutes by car, ten minutes on foot. Yet for a long stretch of time, that one kilometer was like an invisible wall.

This was my second visit to this maintenance squadron. The first time was in early summer of last year, just after the two squadrons had merged. What I saw then were faces that looked slightly guarded; in the mess hall, officers and soldiers from the two original squadrons habitually sat in two separate sections; even during rest time, everyone naturally divided into two circles.

Returning to this squadron a year later, I deliberately did not ask any squadron officers to accompany me. I walked alone into the honors room, the mess hall, and the barracks, wanting to see whether that "wall" was still there.

In the honors room, the medals from both former squadrons were displayed together—no hierarchy, no distinction between them. Every one had been polished clean, quietly recounting past glories. It was clear that the integration of this new collective had never been about erasing the past, but about letting two glorious histories converge into a brand-new river of the spirit.

In the hangar, I saw two soldiers crouching in front of an aircraft, discussing something. The slightly older soldier was explaining and gesturing; the younger one nodded from time to time and occasionally asked a follow-up question. The one speaking was fully engaged; the one listening was fully attentive.

I quietly asked someone nearby and learned that this was a mentor-apprentice pair who had originally belonged to different squadrons. I asked how long they had been working together. The young soldier looked up, his face still smudged with grease, and said with a smile: "About two months, I guess. Anyway, now we're in the same unit—no distinction between yours and mine."

In that moment I suddenly understood: what is called integration is actually hidden in these everyday moments—hidden in every interaction, every instance of coordination, every act of accommodation.

At the close of the interviews, reflecting again on what the instructor had said about the journey from "merger" to "integration," I came to a deeper understanding: the hardest part of a combined unit is combining hearts. Skills can be trained, internal affairs can be standardized, but the cohesion of hearts has never depended on any one person's effort—it requires every single person to be willing to extend a hand and together build a "bridge of the heart" (心桥) for communication.

Walking out of the camp, the setting sun was falling on the entrance of the barracks building, casting long shadows of the officers and soldiers standing in formation. I knew that this brand-new collective was using sincerity, bit by bit, to tear down the "wall" in its heart. The merger is only the starting point. When they truly think with one mind and exert strength in one direction, they will surely cohere into a stronger combat capability and advance steadily on the road of guarding the battle eagles.

Reporter's Dialogue with the Instructor of an Aviation Maintenance Squadron of a Unit Under the Central Theater Command Air Force—

Think with One Mind, Twist into One Rope

During the interview, the reporter exchanged views with Instructor Wang Muyuan on the subject of organizational development and integration pathways following the squadron's merger. Through his account, we can clearly see how a strong Party organization leads a unit from "merger" to "integration."

Reporter: Since the merger, what have been the main changes in the squadron?

Wang Muyuan: Over the past year since the merger, we have moved from the initial stage of "physical addition" to the stage of "chemical integration." The most tangible progress shows up in two ways things have become "smooth." One is that hearts are aligned and morale is smoother. The branch has been consistently conducting heart-to-heart talks, and various activities are held regularly. Gradually, people have shifted from "you are you and I am me" to "we," and the sense of belonging to the squadron has grown considerably. The other is that the work flows more smoothly. Aircraft maintenance and support coordination is more in sync than before; the earlier situation of unclear responsibilities, inconsistent standards, and mutual buck-passing has basically disappeared.

Reporter: During the integration process, what were some of the more thorny conflicts or sources of resistance you encountered?

Wang Muyuan: The resistance was mainly hidden. First, there was the "wall" in people's heads. The two original units each had their own way of doing things and their own rhythm. At the start, people would always mutter to themselves, "our old way was better"—and once that thinking took hold, it was easy for rifts to form. Second, there was the problem of how to use backbone personnel: after the two squadrons' specialists merged, positions overlapped but capabilities and characteristics differed. Who to use, who not to use, how to pair people—all of it required careful weighing and consideration. Third, during leisure time, people still "each went back to their own room." Day-to-day communication was insufficient; they couldn't enjoy themselves together. These problems cannot be solved by issuing orders—the organization has to patiently and methodically untangle them one by one.

Reporter: To address these conflicts, what specific methods did the Party branch use to break through them?

Wang Muyuan: We consistently used the "joint development and creation of the three major organizations" (三大组织联建联创)—the Party branch, the Youth League branch, and the Servicemembers' Committee—as our handle, treating the difficulties of integration as the target of branch work. When there were ideological knots, we relied on the Party branch and Youth League branch to reorganize Party small groups and League small groups so that people sat together for organizational life activities, earnestly conducted ideological reporting and criticism and self-criticism (批评和自我批评), spoke openly—and the psychological distance gradually closed. On the use of backbone personnel, the branch did not resort to seniority-based arrangements; instead, we first rotated key positions and let people compete in major tasks to see who was truly more suitable. To address the problem of people failing to come together during leisure time, the Servicemembers' Committee played a particularly important role—frequently planning simple collective activities, such as holiday evening parties and collective birthday celebrations. Participation was not compelled, but we put heart into creating an atmosphere of "warmth the moment you arrive," and gradually dissolved that sense of awkwardness.

Reporter: What problems remain not fully resolved at present? Where will the focus of the next push be?

Wang Muyuan: I must be candid: deep integration is a long-term process. There are still two relatively prominent problems at the moment. One is that there are still gaps in refined coordinated maintenance support. This year we further advanced the integration of personnel across aircraft types, but under high-intensity, fast-tempo operations, the pairing on certain positions still needs to be worked in; sometimes people unconsciously over-rely on old partners and have insufficient rapport with new ones. The other is that the all-round development of officers and soldiers still needs to go deeper. For instance, some comrades are unclear in their own minds about how they will grow and develop in the future, and this directly affects their work motivation. In the next phase, the branch is determined to focus its efforts on "extending organizational strength to the nerve endings of combat capability" (组织力向战斗力末梢延伸)—embedding the joint development and creation of the three major organizations directly into crews and into the smallest combat units—while also intensifying heart-to-heart mentoring, so that every soldier not only knows how to do the work but also clearly understands for whom they are doing it and where they are headed, and so that the cohesion we have built is truly converted into combat capability.