These Servicemembers Have Fused Their Youth into the Mountains and Seas of the Motherland
Salute to the August First Military Flag
■ Lin Qinggang, PLA Daily Special Correspondent Zhang Rongrong
The easternmost outpost: a sentry greets the first rays of dawn.
A company in the southern frontier: officers and soldiers pose for a group photo to celebrate "August First."
Deep in the mountains of the southern border: officers and soldiers of a Southern Theater Command Army company conduct a hazardous patrol.
An island in the East China Sea: an observation and communications station (观通站) of a brigade under the Eastern Theater Command Navy holds a swearing-in ceremony to welcome "August First."
In places others cannot see, the military flag accompanies us
At six in the morning, deep in the East China Sea, sea wind carrying its distinctive salty, briny smell awakens this island outpost, which covers a mere 0.088 square kilometers.
A patrol detachment from an observation and communications station of a brigade under the Eastern Theater Command Navy sets out along the island's perimeter road, treading on reef rocks that have been washed by waves countless times. Among the formation, one soldier stands out—dark-skinned, with a steady stride. His name is Yang Zhou, a post-2000 young man from Tangshan, who once served in a border defense company in Tibet. Early last year, he chose to re-enlist. He had just left the snow-covered plateau at an altitude of more than 4,500 meters when he arrived on this small island that cannot be found on a map.
Yang Zhou's favorite spot on the island is its southeastern corner, where a gray-white stone stele stands firm against the strongest sea winds. The four characters "领海基点" (territorial sea baseline point) carved on the stele have had their edges worn smooth by the years. Every time Yang Zhou walks to this spot, he gently touches it with his hand.
In Tibet, he guarded the boundary markers on the national border line; on this island, he guards the stone stele marking the territorial sea baseline point. Wind and sand have scoured his face; waves have beaten against his boots. The hardships differ, but the vigil is the same.
Yang Zhou still remembers when he first arrived on the island and the political instructor took the new soldiers on a "tour of the island." He was surprised to discover that, with the accelerating pace of reform and military strengthening, the island now has full 5G signal coverage, allowing officers and soldiers to video-call their families at any time. Moisture-proof boards and dehumidifiers mean the barracks are no longer damp, and soldiers can sleep soundly. When bad weather prevents the ferry from operating normally, drones can be used to deliver medicine and fresh vegetables.
"Before, there was nothing on the island but rocks and sea lavender (海芙蓉). Now we can grow vegetables—and even flowers," the political instructor said, gently touching a camellia bush with a budding flower. "The construction of coastal and maritime air defense (边海空防) builds not only fortresses, but also a 'home' where officers and soldiers can take root and grow."
Noticing that Yang Zhou had not moved from where he stood before the camellia tree, the political instructor asked what was on his mind. Yang Zhou paused and said: "I was wondering—how long does it take for a tree, from the time it is planted, to bloom?" The political instructor smiled and replied: "If you put down roots here, you'll find out naturally."
"To watch a flower bloom." With that goal in mind, the monotonous training became, in Yang Zhou's eyes, a measure marking his growth. As the sea wind blew from early spring into midsummer, his duty logbook grew from thin to thick, its pages covered layer upon layer with densely recorded航线 (track) markings. The flower had not yet bloomed, but in his heart he had already made a decision.
Not long ago, late one night, the duty room was brightly lit, and the glow of the radar screen fell across Yang Zhou's young face. At that moment, Radar Squad Leader Pan Jixu—who had served on the island for nineteen years—was also on duty. After processing a batch of air situation (空情) reports, he heard Yang Zhou say quietly: "Squad Leader, I want to stay on."
"Work hard." Pan Jixu patted him on the shoulder and watched him adjust the equipment parameters. In the duty room, the faint hum of operating equipment seemed, in that moment, to merge into the relay vigil of two generations of island guardians.
From the "Roof of the World" to the East China Sea outpost, the color of the uniform changed, the battle station underfoot changed, the starry sky overhead changed. But the original aspiration Yang Zhou made when he put on his uniform shines as brilliantly as the August First Military Flag flying over the mountains.
That summer when Yang Zhou was waiting for the flower to bloom, newly graduated officer Ding Dong climbed into a pickup truck headed for a high-mountain observation and communications station. He had ranked second in his specialty at school and could have had more choices, but when the classmate who ranked first chose the Nansha Islands, he chose the high mountain and sea island.
Early this year, Ding Dong went to sea to carry out a far-seas training mission. On one occasion, he discovered that the contact logbook on board for handling complex problems prominently listed the telephone number of his observation and communications station. In that moment, he felt immense pride.
Before the Spring Festival, Ding Dong returned to the mountain. Red lanterns hung in the garrison area, and the smell of food drifted from the mess hall. These moments of perseverance that he had once taken for granted suddenly carried a different weight after he had been to sea and seen that telephone number. His seemingly ordinary post was truly connected to the vast maritime frontier spanning ten thousand li.
From campus to the mountains, from officer-cadet to sub-station commander—his identity changed, his environment changed. Yet, just like Yang Zhou, the solemnity Ding Dong felt when he first saluted the August First Military Flag has never changed.
One is on an island, the other on a mountain, but the way they found the answer in their hearts is the same: in places others cannot see, the military flag accompanies us.
Carving "love" into the reef, and weaving it into the warp and weft of the military flag
There are many more officers and soldiers like Yang Zhou and Ding Dong in this brigade. They have come to high mountains and climbed onto sea islands to salute the August First Military Flag.
How to turn "I want to stay" into "I am able to stay"—how to transform initial drive into day-after-day resilience? For the confusion that often weighs on the minds of today's officers and soldiers, this unit has its own set of methods.
The brigade selected more than thirty "old high-mountain hands" and "old island hands" with sixteen or more years of service to serve as "Mountain-Sea Guardians" (山海卫士), setting a benchmark for new soldiers on the road ahead. Staff Sergeant Second Class Wang Guanlong is a "Mountain-Sea Guardian" at a certain island observation and communications station. In the garrison area, almost all the stone carvings were made by his hand: "Take the Station as Home" (以站为家) beside the basketball court, the "Roots Grove" (扎根林) behind the barracks, "Military Soul" (军魂) to the left of the dormitory…
"After so many years, I've grown accustomed to island life. Deep in my heart, I have long since made this place my home." This veteran island guardian used a carving knife to etch the character "love" (爱) into the reef—and wove it into the warp and weft of the military flag.
"Mountain-Sea Guardian" is a title, but more than that it is a sentiment—a conviction of putting down roots in the cracks of stone, a spirit of merging the individual into these mountains and seas.
Master Sergeant Li Guoyong, stationed at a high-mountain observation and communications station in northern Fujian, completes thirty years of service this year. By seniority, he is the most qualified person at the station to hold the title of "Mountain-Sea Guardian," yet when faced with the honor, he recommended a younger backbone soldier, Zheng Xinran: "He understands the post-2000 and post-2005 generation better than I do. New comrades can more easily see a reflection of themselves in him."
Last month, Li Guoyong compiled his experience and achievements into a volume—hundreds of thousands of characters of professional material spanning the full length of his military career, every word and sentence infused with thirty years of this island guardian's dedication.
"Do today's work well, prepare for tomorrow's work, and summarize yesterday's work." Even on the day he is demobilized, thirty years of experience must remain at the station, to be passed on and continue to shine.
Squad Leader Shen Hualin at a certain high-mountain observation and communications station does not have a high level of education. Things that others can memorize after reading once, he has to read many times. So he used the most basic method—copying while memorizing.
He copied a professional textbook from cover to cover. After finishing one copy, he extracted the key points and copied them again. As he copied, he came to understand more and more.
Later, he was awarded an individual third-class merit citation, earned a junior college diploma, and grew from a new soldier who only wanted to go home and start a business into the most senior squad leader in the station's diesel engine squad. The words he wrote on the flyleaf of his notebook reflect the patriotic sentiment (赤子情怀) of more than a decade of military service: "Guard the battle station underfoot; be a qualified island-defense soldier."
At the end of last year, the station's officers and soldiers used their rest time to build a stone path of more than sixty meters leading straight to the monument at the highest point of the mountain summit.
More than fifty years ago, the first generation of officers and soldiers carried equipment up the mountain on their shoulders. After that, wherever they walked, a path appeared. Today, the path underfoot is different, but the posture of climbing upward has not changed, and the posture of striving has not changed.
Giving the best years of one's life to the August First Military Flag, to these mountains and seas
The path was built, but harder than building the path is letting those who come after know how this path was built—and why it absolutely had to be built.
Corporal Zhu Pengfei, born in the year 2000, did not know any of this when he first came up the mountain. He had loved watching the TV drama "Blue Flame Commandos" (火蓝刀锋) since childhood. The day he put on the "wave white" (浪花白) naval uniform, he thought he was finally going to board a warship and cut through the waves—but instead he found himself climbing into a large truck headed up the mountain.
The gap between his ideals and reality left him perpetually dispirited. After just one week shadowing his squad, he made a mistake through carelessness. When the notification came down shortly afterward, Zhu Pengfei broke into a cold sweat. Squad Leader Chen Huaiji saw his remorse and, while comforting him, proactively wrote an account of the situation and a self-criticism on his behalf.
That evening, Zhu Pengfei went to apologize to his squad leader. Chen Huaiji told him the story of how, in the "August 6th" Naval Battle (八六海战), a radar detachment guided warships to sink an enemy vessel, and said earnestly: "If this were wartime, missing a single target in your report could cost a whole group of comrades their lives."
Zhu Pengfei lay in his bunk, those words seemingly carved into his mind. He thought of his own negligence, of the expectant look in his squad leader's eyes, of the glorious achievements of his predecessors… He could not sleep all night. As dawn approached, he said to himself: "There will never be a next time!"
Before the reveille sounded, Zhu Pengfei was already sitting in the study room. Chen Huaiji passed by and glanced through the crack in the door—he did not go in, and said nothing.
In the subsequent retention assessment, Zhu Pengfei won top honors in multiple rounds of signal-tracking evaluations and never again missed a single target report. His radar detachment also achieved first place in the brigade-wide skills competition that year.
After Zhu Pengfei took first place, Chen Huaiji never praised him to his face. But someone at the station noticed that, on that day, Chen Huaiji paused as he walked past the honor wall and stood before the radar detachment's competition award certificate—and smiled, from the heart… Later, Zhu Pengfei heard that when Chen Huaiji was a new soldier, his own squad leader had mentored him in exactly the same way.
At this small high-mountain station, what has been passed down through the generations is not only skill, but also a deep affection for "taking the station as home."
The officers and soldiers designed and built a "High-Mountain Garden." The garden wall is built in the shape of a drawn bow and arrow, symbolizing the observation and communications station standing guard over the maritime defense line like an arrow nocked and ready to fly. The thirty-four protruding stones on the wall represent comrades-in-arms from all parts of the country. Stone slabs on the lawn are arranged in the shape of an "ear," signifying that observation and communications soldiers are the "clairaudient ears" (顺风耳) of the motherland's maritime defense line.
In one corner of the garden stands a "Unity Monument" (团结碑), engraved with the names of the officers and soldiers who participated in its construction. Many of them have already taken off their uniforms and left the mountain, but in this form they have remained here.
The military flag speaks no words, yet it watches over the frontier soldiers. Standing beneath the August First Military Flag, standing before the radar screen, standing beside the territorial sea baseline point stele—these servicemembers' youth has been fused into the mountains and seas of the motherland.
Salute to the August First Military Flag!
Photos provided by the authors