Fear No Wind or Waves! Warriors Struggle Valiantly Against Wind, Waves, and Peril
A Single Leaf on the Water, Riding the Wind and Chasing the Waves
■ Shen Jianbo, PLA Daily Reporter Ma Jing
Officers and soldiers of a training base of the Southern Theater Command Navy conduct sampan training. Photo by He Zhangyang
A summer military port, steaming with heat.
Near the shore, the seawater is clear and translucent as jade. Sunlight pierces straight through the water column, casting dazzling patches of light on the surface.
Where the blue waves surge and roll, the sound of wooden oars rising and falling rings out vigorously. Officers and soldiers pull hard at their oars as several sampans advance rapidly across the sea.
A sampan is a small wooden boat of simple construction. Sampan training in our military traces its origins to the arduous early years of the People's Navy and has a history spanning several decades. At that time, our military used sampan training to consolidate the foundational seamanship of officers and soldiers, rapidly close the gap in naval personnel shortfalls, and support coastal defense missions. The naval officers and soldiers of that era had no advanced propulsion equipment; the sampan was not merely a means of maritime transportation but an important platform on which officers and soldiers carried out combat missions. Propelled by human oar-power, naval officers and soldiers drove sampans through wind and waves to guard the maritime frontier — from coastal defense to inshore patrol — silently protecting the security of the sea boundary.
Through the changes of the times, naval vessel equipment has been iteratively upgraded, and modern warships now race across the open ocean; mechanical propulsion long ago replaced human oar-power. Yet sampan training has not faded from the naval training system.
Sampan training not only forges officers' and soldiers' ability to row across the sea through wind and waves, but is also a comprehensive training exercise that tempers endurance, physical strength, and willpower. Today, officers and soldiers conducting sampan training are not only inheriting the fighting spirit of their predecessors but also subjecting themselves to a test of the foundational physical fitness required for actual combat.
A sampan measuring 9.5 meters in length and 2.8 meters in width is operated by 1 helmsman, 12 oarsmen, and 1 lookout working in coordination. The wooden oars in the hands of officers and soldiers are more than 3 meters long and weigh 7 kilograms. Crossing wave-swept waters by human power alone places extremely high demands on muscular endurance and cardiopulmonary function. During the rowing process, wind, waves, and ocean currents continuously drain the physical strength of officers and soldiers, while scorching summer heat and the biting salt wind steadily wear down their physical condition; the slightest lapse can affect the overall speed of advance.
Sampan training places very high physical demands on officers and soldiers, with upper-body strength being especially important — the shoulder, back, and arm muscle groups must be capable of continuously driving the oars against the resistance of the waves. In addition, the core muscle groups of the waist and abdomen must be engaged to stabilize the body during rowing, so as to maintain balance on a pitching sampan.
Officers and soldiers must supplement their daily training with upper-body, lower-body, and core strength work, and conduct intensive training focused on endurance and resistance to seasickness, in order to adapt to long-distance unpowered rowing at sea. Staff Sergeant Second Class Zhang Xin is known among his comrades as "Iron Waist-and-Back," yet when he first began sampan training, after rowing 10 nautical miles his lower back ached so badly he could not straighten up, he could not put force into his oar strokes, and his technique broke down noticeably in the second half. His coach identified the problem: weak core strength — sampan rowing requires not just arm power, but the waist and back are the central conduit for force transmission. To address this, he added a "core triple set" to his own training: barbell bent-over rows, 3 sets of 8 repetitions each, with weight gradually increasing from 40 kilograms to 60 kilograms, to train the pulling strength of the latissimus dorsi and the coordinated engagement of the posterior chain; deadlifts, 3 sets of 8 repetitions each, starting from 60 kilograms and slowly building to 120 kilograms, to reinforce the rigid support of the quadratus lumborum and erector spinae; and supine cross-body reaches, alternating left and right for 10 repetitions each side for 3 sets total, to improve the stable control of the core muscle groups under dynamic conditions. For the first two weeks, he felt his waist and back were as stiff as an iron plate after every session; after one month, results began to show — over a 20-nautical-mile long row, his technique remained unbroken through the second half. "Before, my arms would give out first. Now my waist and back deliver the force steadily, and my arms just execute." As training continued, Zhang Xin grew increasingly at ease.
During long-duration, high-intensity rowing training, blisters on the hands became routine. The calluses on the hands of Staff Sergeant First Class Yu Zhiying are training marks he wears with pride. Many trainees participating for the first time found their arms aching and their lower backs stiffening after rowing just a few nautical miles, with blisters worn into their palms by the oar handles. When the older generation of naval officers and soldiers rowed sampans on operational missions, they kept swinging their oars for dozens of consecutive hours, holding their positions even as their physical reserves ran dry. The training scenes of today are a faithful reflection of the actual combat missions of that era.
Seasickness is also a formidable adversary for officers and soldiers in sampan training. When encountering stretches of turbulent current or strong headwinds, even when officers and soldiers row with full force, the sampan can sometimes be caught by an undercurrent and spin in place. With their efforts blocked and their physical reserves spent, officers and soldiers bear the dual pressure of body and mind.
At such moments, officers and soldiers must keep their core muscle groups tensed at all times to counter the hull's constant rocking from the surge. Private Ma Kaijun had always longed for the sea, yet suffered severe seasickness. On his first open-water training exercise, he vomited as soon as they set out, his face turning pale. His teammates urged him to turn back, but he waved them off: "I can't let a little wind and waves beat me." Back on shore, he went to the balance bridge and, under the guidance of his squad leader, practiced balance on a rocking board. It took him a full two weeks to go from being unable to stand steady to being able to simulate rowing motions while the board swayed beneath him. On another open-water training exercise, with sea state three, the bow being slapped around by the swells, Ma Kaijun's hands gripped the oar with veins standing out, his voice calling out in time with the helmsman's cadence. Over a distance of 25 nautical miles, he and his comrades completed the course successfully.
The sampan is a test of strength and willpower, and also a struggle of solidarity and unity — pulling together in the same boat. No matter how strong a single person is, he cannot row a boat alone; but when 14 people are of one mind, with oar cadence consistent, entry angle consistent, and the moment of force application consistent, that 3-ton sampan can skim swiftly across the surface of the water. Zhang Xin said: "The sampan taught me that while you entrust your back to your comrades, you must also be worthy of their trust." Ma Kaijun's takeaway was more plain-spoken: "Before, I thought there were things I couldn't hold out through. Now I believe I can grit my teeth and push past them."
Wind and waves rise suddenly, surging and crashing. A single leaf on the water, riding the wind and chasing the waves. Warriors never fear wind and waves; no matter how harsh the environment, they can rely on courage, strength, and wisdom to struggle valiantly against wind, waves, and peril……
As the sun set in the west, a four-hour open-water sampan training exercise came to an end. Ma Kaijun and his comrades shouldered their oars together and returned to the barracks in high spirits.