Eyewitness Accounts of the Rectification Training | A Troop Leader Is First and Foremost a Soldier
During the political rectification training (政治整训), I often found myself turning over a single question: what has actually changed — the grassroots soldiers, or the original aspiration (初心) of me, their troop leader?
At some point, I seemed to have grown accustomed to educating them from a seat on the stage, sizing them up through a car window, and analyzing them buried in paperwork. They were right in front of me, yet a distance had quietly opened up in my heart. I could no longer sense the joys and sorrows they kept hidden inside, and their vivid faces had become nothing more than blurred outlines.
How long had it been since I sat down with the soldiers for a real heart-to-heart talk? How long since I had heard them speak from the bottom of their hearts? Every time I asked myself these questions, a wave of guilt would rise up.
Yes, they are soldiers — ordinary soldiers. They stand guard and keep watch, bury their heads in their work, charge forward when a mission calls, make do with a cup of instant noodles at the front line, and can fall asleep caked in mud when exhaustion takes over. And yet they are not merely soldiers — they are the apple of their parents' eyes, the pillars their wives and children depend on, and, more than that, the principal actors in preparing for war and the cornerstone of building a strong military (强军兴军).
This brings to mind the "Yang Ting'an Squad" in our unit, which gave voice to the "Two Fearlessnesses" (两不怕) combat spirit. During the 1962 border campaign, Yang Ting'an led his entire squad in a charge under dense enemy fire. He shouted the battle cry "Fear neither hardship nor death (一不怕苦、二不怕死)," fighting with heroic tenacity and no fear of sacrifice; seven of the squad's eight soldiers shed their blood on the battlefield. What force drove these young soldiers to throw themselves forward with such utter disregard for their own lives?
Leafing through the history of that campaign, the answer lies in the small moments before the battle. When the "Yang Ting'an Squad" was first formed, its soldiers came from all corners of the country, and it was the Party member backbone who shaped this squad into an "iron fist" with their own hands. Squad leader Yang Ting'an was only a few years older than his men: he stayed up at night to train alongside those who were falling behind; when a soldier's family ran into hardship, he quietly sent his own allowance to them; whenever someone came down with so much as a headache, he would sit at the bedside holding a bowl of sick-call rations.
That kind of bond is not built by orders. It is warmed into being, little by little, through days of stirring the same pot and rolling in the mud of the same trench. It was precisely because they felt the most genuine care within the organization that these young soldiers came to regard the unit as home and their comrades as family — and that is why, at the moment of life and death, they did not hesitate to leave the hope of survival to their comrades and shoulder the danger of death themselves.
This glorious chapter of history has taught me clearly: the blood-and-bone roots of the "Two Fearlessnesses" lie in the fine political work traditions (政治工作优良传统) of organizational care, unity between officers and soldiers (官兵一致), and sharing life and death together. A troop leader is first and foremost a soldier — that is the profound revelation this political rectification training has given me.
Caring for officers and soldiers must be done with genuine feeling and true emotion. The brigade has promoted the "camp-stool candid-talk meeting" (马扎恳谈会): the organs set up no presidium and read from no scripts — everyone sits in a circle and talks openly. It was only after filling several notebooks with soldiers' conditions (兵情台账) that I understood: it is not that the soldiers are unwilling to speak — it is that we have been sitting too high up and standing too far away.
Caring for officers and soldiers must ultimately come down to concrete, individual matters. In the past, when organizing efforts to "do practical things for the people," individual Party member cadres were satisfied with writing them into plans and summaries — it all looked lively on paper, but a good deal of it was mere window dressing. Now we have established a one-stop service center where matters such as family members joining the unit and children's school enrollment are handled at a single window; an online "Soldier Conditions Express Lane" (兵情直通车) routes requests to the relevant departments with a time limit for resolution. Soldiers say: what used to take three or four trips now gets done in one. Children's school enrollment advances year after year; the military children's summer camp has run for five years; family quarters are renovated ahead of the Spring Festival and stocked with New Year goods and medicines. One military spouse said: the highland winters are cold, but the New Year inside the barracks is truly warm.
To be honest, in the past there were indeed certain unhealthy tendencies (不正之风) that wounded the hearts of many officers and soldiers who worked with integrity. During the political rectification training, the members of our leadership team reached complete ideological consensus: we must hold the "umbrella" of healthy conduct (风气) firmly over all officers and soldiers. Over the past few years, the evaluation of merits and awards, selection for further education and promotion to officer rank, and the selection and advancement of non-commissioned officers have all been conducted with full transparency from start to finish — quotas, criteria, procedures, and results are all laid out in the open; whoever is capable moves forward, and ability does the talking. With conduct set right, everyone works with clear eyes and an easy conscience.
The ultimate destination of political work is preparation for war and the ability to fight. When officers and soldiers are freed from worries on the home front and have a fair track for advancement, their minds will naturally focus on fighting. I often tell my staff officers: you must truly regard officers and soldiers as brothers — find fewer faults, show more understanding, and trust them. Each generation is stronger than the last, and the words "pure love, only for China (清澈的爱、只为中国)" are the best proof of that.
Drift too far from the soldiers, and you forget that you were once a soldier yourself; drift too far from their hearts, and you can no longer read these most lovable soldiers. So no matter how far you go, you must never forget your own beginning as a soldier (兵之初). Conducting political rectification training is meant to bring me back among the officers and soldiers — to be as plain and unassuming as they are, rooted at my combat post; to be as steadfast as they are, striving and fighting hard; to be as courageous as they are, unafraid of sacrifice. When I stand among them and can calmly be called "comrade" by them — only then can I say without shame: I, too, am a soldier.