From My Great-Great-Grandfather's Straw Sandals to My Tank: The Fighting Spirit of Soldiers in the New Era Has Never Changed

From My Great-Great-Grandfather's Straw Sandals to My Tank

■ Staff Sergeant Second Class Xie Guoping, a company of a certain brigade, 82nd Group Army

That day, a news report on my phone about the Xinxu Blocking Battle site of the Xiang River Campaign in Guanyang, Guangxi, left me unable to collect my thoughts for a long time. In the photograph, the mouth of Jiuhai Well gaped black and bottomless; on the hilltops in the distance, red flags billowed like leaping tongues of flame.

I stared at that well, and suddenly my childhood came back to me.

I am from Xingguo, Jiangxi. For as long as I can remember, the elders in my family often told stories of the Xingguo sons who served as soldiers, and the story they told most was the Xiang River Campaign. During the Xinxu Blocking Battle, the Red 18th Regiment — subordinate to the "Xingguo Model Division" — saw more than 1,800 Xingguo sons hold their positions to the last. When their ammunition ran out they fought with bayonets; when the bayonets bent and dulled they swung rocks. In the end, nearly all of them were killed.

Now, on my phone screen, the photograph of Jiuhai Well remained dark and still. The caption read: after the Xinxu Blocking Battle ended in 1934, more than 100 seriously wounded soldiers of the Red 5th Division who could not be evacuated in time had their hands and feet bound by the enemy and were thrown into this well. Most of those soldiers thrown into the well were not yet 20 years old, and of the more than 1,800 Xingguo sons who died on the Xinxu position, almost none left behind a name.

There are far too many stories like this from the Long March. At the time, Xingguo County had a total population of 230,000; tens of thousands joined the Red Army, and more than 12,000 named and recorded martyrs perished on the Long March. My great-great-grandfather, Xie Zhonglian, was one of them. He set out with his unit from Xingguo and later died a heroic death.

Hearing these stories as a child, I felt only their tragic grandeur. It was not until I put on a uniform and became a squad leader that I understood the meaning behind those numbers — those young lives, most of them only eighteen or nineteen years old, would today be the age of newly enlisted recruits, yet they were left forever on the banks of the Xiang River.

I grew up listening to these stories, and I put on a uniform carrying these stories with me. After being assigned to a unit, I became a tank driver. On the day I enlisted, my father said to me solemnly: "Go. You are a soldier from Xingguo. Make us proud."

When I first arrived at the unit and began training on tank driving, I was physically slight. The control levers shook my hands raw between the thumb and forefinger, and my palms went numb and lost all feeling. When the training pushed me to the point of wanting to quit, I thought of my great-great-grandfather — perhaps he had crossed the Xiang River, walked in straw sandals over snow-capped mountains and through grasslands, worn through the soles of his feet and never stopped. Compared to him, what did the difficulties before me amount to?

In 2021, I took over as squad leader of the "Hero Yue Taiquan Squad." During the 1947 Lunan Campaign, former squad leader Yue Taiquan led the 9th Squad in blocking an enemy force many times their number, repelling nine charges. The squad was reduced to two men; Yue Taiquan, seriously wounded, continued fighting until he was killed.

Two years ago I took part in the Group Army's competition among one hundred outstanding squad leaders. Rifle precision shooting was my weak point, and after the first two rounds I was ranked outside the top twenty. During the midday break, others were discussing shooting techniques, but I could not say a word — my heart was sinking.

I crouched at the edge of the training ground and suddenly recalled a question I had asked my grandfather as a child: "Was Great-Great-Grandfather afraid when he fought?" My grandfather took a draw on his pipe and said: "They were all fighting for the revolution. How could they be afraid?"

Thinking on this, I squeezed off each shot steadily through the afternoon session and clawed back a good number of places in the final rounds. On the last lap of the five-kilometer armed cross-country run, my legs felt filled with lead and my lungs burned with raw pain. Two images filled my mind: Yue Taiquan fighting on with only two men left, and the Red 18th Regiment with nearly all its soldiers dead. They had faced gun muzzles and bayonets, and I too was in a fight — I had to grit my teeth and drive forward. In that competition, I was ultimately named one of the Group Army's one hundred outstanding squad leaders and was awarded a Third-Class Merit Citation at year's end.

Looking at the photographs on my phone, my thoughts ran in all directions. In which trench, on which piece of ground, did those more than 1,800 forebears of the Xingguo Model Division fall? I do not know. Among the tens of thousands of loyal remains along the Xiang River, on which hillside does each one rest? No one knows.

But I know this: more than ninety years later, I wear a new uniform, drive a tank they could never have imagined, and walk the road they opened with their lives. From the Xingguo Model Division to the "Hero Yue Taiquan Squad," from my great-great-grandfather's straw sandals to my tank — we have entered a new era, but the fighting spirit (血拼到底的劲头) of soldiers has never changed.

I closed my phone and walked into the study room. Several privates first class in the squad were gathered together watching a documentary about the Long March. When they saw me come in, one soldier looked up and asked: "Squad leader, you're from Xingguo — tell us about the Xiang River Campaign."

In that moment, I knew: the stories the elders told me are now mine to tell my comrades. I want them to know how deep that well called Jiuhai Well is, and how unbowed were the chests of those young people whose names we cannot call.

Each generation has its own Long March (一代人有一代人的长征). My Long March is to guard this memory and pass on this fighting spirit (血性).

(Compiled by Liu Han, contributing reporter for the PLA Daily)