The Company's Honor Room Welcomes Three Second-Class Merits
■ PLA Daily Special Correspondent Qian Hao
"They're here! They're here!"
No one knew who shouted first, but the steps at the entrance of the Third Company of a certain brigade of the 82nd Group Army were instantly packed with people. Every gaze locked onto the military vehicle slowly pulling through the garrison gate.
The doors opened. The company commander, the political instructor, and one comrade stepped out with large red flowers pinned to their chests, holding gleaming second-class merit medals and plaques, their strides firm and resonant. Applause erupted and quickly swelled into a roaring sea. Two individual second-class merit medals and one collective second-class merit plaque were passed carefully from one pair of rough, strong hands to the next, then solemnly placed beneath the bright spotlight in the honor room.
For a moment, everyone fell silent in the honor room. Not because there was nothing to say, but because this honor had been waited for far, far too long.
After the restructuring and reform, this company seemed to have been forgotten by time in some corner. Training had not fallen behind; tasks were carried out without hesitation — yet the honor board remained as blank as a sheet of rice paper on which no brush had ever touched. One year, two years, three years… Ordinariness settled like a thick layer of dust, slowly covering everyone's heart. It was not that the officers and soldiers were not working hard — it was that after all the effort, there was no echo in return, and gradually, everyone seemed to lose the drive to strive for excellence and be first.
The word "dream," in the monotony of day after day, had become something extravagant and distant — until the arrival of these three second-class merits.
The night the medals and plaque were placed in the honor room, Political Instructor Zhang Wei noticed an interesting change: the multimedia display screen in the barracks foyer had come alive. Someone posted a photo of the medal with a four-character caption: "Next time, it's me." Someone replied below: "Get in line — I'm first." Someone else quietly changed their profile picture to an image of martial prowess…
Zhang Wei suddenly recalled how, when he was a new platoon leader, he had once stood transfixed before the yellowed old photographs in the honor room, imagining that someday his own name might be preserved there. But now, standing at the honor room doorway, watching the light reignite in those soldiers' eyes, he felt something different stir within him.
The greatest value of an outstanding leader of troops is not defined simply by medals and awards, but in ensuring that every soldier has a dream — and doing everything possible to help them realize it.
He glanced at the multimedia screen. Beneath that post, the profile pictures of the company's officers and soldiers were lighting up one by one. No comments — only silent likes, like lamps being lit one after another in the night.
Zhang Wei thought for a moment, then added a line of text: "Chase the wind and the moon without pause — beyond the flat wilderness lies a mountain of spring (追风赶月莫停留，平芜尽处是春山)."
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Dream-Chasers on the "Dream Screen"
■ PLA Daily Special Correspondents Qian Hao and Li Zhuoyu
"I Want to Become Someone the Company Can Be Proud Of"
Inside the barracks foyer of the Third Company of a certain brigade of the 82nd Group Army, Political Instructor Zhang Wei was studying the large multimedia screen. Scrolling across it were rows of names and words — those who wanted to pursue further education, those who wanted to compete in skills competitions, those who wanted to earn merit citations, those who wanted to be named model soldiers… a dense, crowded display. This screen had become the liveliest spot in the company — everyone, coming or going, would involuntarily look up at it.
Looking at those words, Zhang Wei thought back to a year ago, when this screen had shown nothing but training schedules and duty rosters.
A year ago, Zhang Wei transferred from a staff officer position at a higher headquarters to take up the post of political instructor at the Third Company. Before he reported, a leader told him: "Third Company is a good company — it's just been dormant too long." Only when he actually arrived did he come to understand the taste of "dormant."
When the whole company assembled, the battle cry was not quiet, but it always felt like something was missing. During the five-kilometer armed cross-country run, no one surged to the front, and no one fell behind — everyone maintained a tacit "good enough" pace. He chatted with the soldiers and asked what goals they had. A veteran scratched his head: "Nothing much — just do the job well." He asked whether anyone had thought about earning merit citations. The veteran smiled: "How would that ever come to us? Things are fine as they are."
The tone was flat, but that "things are fine as they are" made Zhang Wei's heart tighten. He gradually worked it out: these soldiers did not lack the desire to improve — they had simply gone too long without tasting what improvement felt like. That night, Zhang Wei lay in bed tossing and turning, and suddenly recalled a line from a film: "Life is like archery, and dreams are like the target. If you can't even find the target, what's the point of drawing the bow every day?" He understood: he first had to help everyone find their "target" again.
At one political education class, he wrote only two characters on the blackboard: 梦想 — "dream." "No lecture today. Everyone take a turn coming up and talking about your dream."
The study room fell quiet for a moment. A senior private stood up: "This year I want to score excellent across the board in physical fitness." Right after, a sergeant stood up: "I want to be a good squad leader."
Dreams need not be grand or distant — as long as one dares to set up a "target" in one's heart, the most important step has already been taken. "Think some more, everyone. Whatever your dream is, say it boldly."
After a pause, a voice came from the very back row: "I want to become someone the company can be proud of."
The study room suddenly went quiet. Zhang Wei looked toward the voice. It was a young corporal named Zhang Zezhi.
Zhang Wei asked: "So what do you think it would take for the company to be proud of you?" Zhang Zezhi paused: "Placing in a skills competition? Or earning a merit citation? It's just — I feel like, if one day my comrades in the company mention my name, they'd all give a thumbs-up."
Zhang Wei nodded and led the applause.
That applause was like a key. More people stood up: someone said they wanted to pursue further education and become an officer; someone said they wanted to be a top-rated trainer; and one new soldier said timidly: "I want to earn a merit citation."
When that class ended, Zhang Wei said: "I've written down everyone's dreams. Starting tomorrow, they'll scroll on the multimedia screen in the company foyer every day. When a dream is realized, it comes down."
Someone laughed: "Instructor, isn't this just 'public exposure'?" Zhang Wei laughed too: "Exactly — I want you all to feel too embarrassed not to try."
The next morning, as soldiers walked into the foyer, they immediately saw their own names on the big screen. At first, everyone felt awkward. But gradually, everyone wanted to put their dream up there and "air it out."
At the start, Sergeant Ge Shuxiang wrote down his wish: to be rated a special-class marksman. When that goal was achieved, his name was taken down from the screen. But unwilling to let up, within a few days he voluntarily put himself back on the list, setting a new ambition: to compete for the title of outstanding "four-competency" instructor (优秀"四会"教练员).
Senior Private Zhang Shaowu's initial goal was simple — to bring his pull-up score up to the "good" standard. He achieved it in just one month. Zhang Wei saw that he had strong learning ability and a heart set on improvement, and continued to encourage him to set higher and more distant aspirations, pressing forward toward the goal of gaining admission to a military academy.
The officers' and soldiers' dreams filled the screen and were no longer soliloquies hidden in the heart — they were seen by the entire company. Some gave likes, some offered encouragement, some were moved to follow — these responses were the truest echo of a dream.
Photo caption: Zhang Wei (second from right), political instructor of the Mechanized Infantry Third Company of a certain brigade of the 82nd Group Army, conducts heart-to-heart talks with soldiers. Photo by Chen Yi.
"How Good It Is to Have Comrades Striving Together"
Zhang Wei pressed play, and the television screen lit up at once. On screen, a young man was riding a motorcycle along a muddy mountain road, jolting with every bump.
"It's Zhang Xue!" a sharp-eyed soldier recognized him immediately. In the video, 19-year-old Zhang Xue had ridden over a hundred kilometers through the rain with a television production crew, all for one chance to show what he was made of. He fell again and again, and got up again and again. Finally, covered in mud, he stood before the camera, gasping, and shouted: "If you have a dream, go chase it! Because I was brave, my life is more brilliant!"
Sergeant Wang Yuwei, sitting in the third row, lowered his head and glanced at the ribbon rack on his chest. The second-class merit ribbon was fastened at the very front. A year ago, he would never have believed that ribbon would end up on his chest.
At the time, he had only recently become a squad leader. When the notice came down for the Group Army's "Hundred Squad Leaders" skills competition, the whole company was buzzing. Wang Yuwei shrank into a corner and said nothing — he felt his seniority was too shallow, and he had no confidence to go. Political Instructor Zhang Wei found him: "You're the only squad leader in the company who qualifies and hasn't signed up." Wang Yuwei looked down: "Instructor, I'm afraid I won't make it." Zhang Wei didn't respond to that — he just asked one question: "Do you want to go?"
In the end, Wang Yuwei signed up. But in the brigade's first preliminary selection, he barely scraped a passing score. That "pass" next to his name was harder to bear than elimination. That night, Wang Yuwei sat alone on the drill ground, thinking of going to find the instructor to say "forget it" — but Zhang Wei found him first.
"I'm also entering the political instructor competition," Zhang Wei said. "Let's keep each other company — I'll move my overtime work into the study room."
From that day on, in the study room, Zhang Wei sat on the left working through theory books, and Wang Yuwei sat on the right studying lesson plans. The two didn't talk much, but their shadows under the lamp leaned on each other. Wang Yuwei knew his foundation was weak, so he practiced his pronunciation in front of a mirror, correcting his mouth shape over and over. Zhang Wei never interrupted — he would only say something when Wang Yuwei paused: "That last run-through was better than yesterday."
Wang Yuwei's scores climbed bit by bit: from passing to good, from good to excellent. In the end, he placed near the top in the Group Army competition and was awarded a second-class merit citation. Zhang Wei also stood out in the political instructor competition and likewise earned a second-class merit citation.
Now, sitting in the study room, Wang Yuwei looked down at that second-class merit ribbon, and his nose stung. A year ago, he didn't believe dreams could come true. A year later, the dream was pinned to his chest.
"How good it is to have comrades striving together!" He looked up at Zhang Wei standing by the lectern. Without that lamp, without that "better than yesterday," he probably would never have believed that dreams could actually be realized.
Staff Sergeant Second Class Yang Wu felt as though something had suddenly struck him in the chest. He instinctively turned his head, and his gaze passed over several rows of comrades and met the eyes of Corporal Xue Haodong.
During last year's field training exercise, Yang Wu had been a shooting technician for less than a month — transitioning from gunner to instructor, he had a head full of experience but couldn't get it out. How to bring the whole company's shooting scores up was a difficult problem set before him. Similarly, Xue Haodong had just converted to infantry fighting vehicle gunner. Learning that combat shooting was about to begin, with his foundation not yet solid and his operations not yet fluent, he faced a difficult question of his own: go forward or not.
"I want to bring the whole company's shooting scores up." "I want to improve my own shooting scores." … On the big screen, two different dreams seemed to converge at the same point. Xue Haodong proactively sought out Yang Wu to ask for guidance on shooting techniques, and Yang Wu held nothing back, passing on everything he knew. At the same time, Yang Wu organized his teaching experience and developed a shooting lesson plan suited to the company's officers and soldiers.
Starlight does not fail those who press on. The painstaking study shared day and night, the diligent practice repeated day after day, all became the "admission ticket" to the dream. Later, the battalion commander announced the combat shooting results: the company's overall rating was excellent, and the vehicle crew to which Xue Haodong belonged was rated excellent.
"As long as you dare to chase a dream, there is nothing that cannot be achieved." The company's officers and soldiers were all running hard toward their own dreams, supporting one another, growing together, witnessing each other's continuous breakthroughs. Zhang Wei knew that more and more people had found the meaning of "dream."
Photo caption: The Third Company of a certain brigade of the 82nd Group Army regularly organizes award ceremonies for officers and soldiers who have realized their dreams. Photo by Chen Yi.
"I Also Want to Try — What If I Can Do It Too?"
When one person starts running, the people around them begin to move their feet. When several people start running, it becomes a wind that pushes against everyone's backs — carrying the "hesitant" forward, lifting the "weary" upward — like a calm lake surface stirred by wind into ripples, spreading outward in ring after ring.
"I also want to try — what if I can do it too?" Platoon Leader Hui Chengdong was the first who could no longer sit still. As a platoon leader who had graduated just over a year ago, many felt he was still too junior and needed more tempering. But he boldly wrote his dream on the screen: I want to earn a third-class merit citation.
He did not begin blindly. He set his sights on the ten-event all-around course at the brigade's military sports meet. From then on, his figure could often be seen putting in extra training on the track at the first light of dawn and at the equipment grounds as night fell…
Sergeant Li Jinshui, at last year's brigade military sports meet, won first place in the pull-up event outright. And his original dream, written at the start, was this: to prove to others that our company can do it too…
On that small screen, every dream was shining, and that light was illuminating the path for more and more people. A group of people gradually began to run, and one name after another moved from the screen into the honor room.
To sustain everyone's drive to keep chasing their dreams, the company launched a series of coordinated measures. Backbone personnel helped everyone break their dreams down into small, achievable sub-goals: if the goal was to get into a military academy, it was broken down into how many vocabulary words to memorize each week and how many problems to work; for those aiming to place in a skills competition, a weekly specialized training plan was drawn up. The road to a dream must be walked steadily, one step at a time, climbing rung by rung, before the destination can be reached.
A system of tiered accountability was also adopted: the company commander was responsible for the platoon leaders, the platoon leaders for the squad leaders, and the squad leaders for the soldiers in their squads. This was not supervision — it was a safety net. One person chasing a dream is easy to give up on, but when a whole row of people is standing behind you, you can't stop even if you want to.
Finally, whenever a dream was realized — no matter how large or small — it could be recorded in the honor room's ledger. It didn't have to be a merit citation or award: breaking a company record, successfully gaining admission to a military academy, developing an advanced squad — as long as it was accomplished, the name and story could be written in. Zhang Wei said: "A company's honor should be the trail of footprints left by everyone chasing their dreams."
The company's evenings gradually changed in character. In the study room, someone was bent over books; in the gym, someone was drenched in sweat…
Zhang Wei stood in the foyer, looking at the multimedia screen. It now had a new name: the Dream Screen (梦想屏) — the officers and soldiers had named it themselves. Looking at it, they were reminded of their own dreams and could see the direction they were heading. On the screen, some of the original dreams had already been taken down… The spaces left behind had been filled with new dreams and new names.
The screen kept scrolling. At the end of last year, the Third Company, in recognition of its outstanding performance throughout the year, was awarded a collective second-class merit citation. When the news came, the whole company erupted — this was the company's first major collective honor in twenty years.
Zhang Wei stood in the honor room, looking at the newly hung plaque on the wall, and opened the dog-eared ledger, thinking back to the moment a year ago when he had written the two characters 梦想 — "dream" — on the blackboard. Now, more and more dreams were appearing on the big screen, and more and more young lives were finding their "echo" (回响)…