The Zhangbei Grassland Long-Distance Training Exercise

By mid-May, the weather turned sweltering. The wheat in the fields gradually shifted from green to golden yellow. By early June, the harvest would be complete.

Ever since Qibing returned from his recruitment duty, he remained the squad leader of the Seventh Squad. Because he had been away for a while, Zheng Ping'an had served as the deputy squad leader and managed the squad's affairs. Once Qibing returned from Inner Mongolia, the men of the Seventh Squad would often gather around him, asking what kind of city Baotou was. Kang Tai, in particular, would always pester him, asking if the women there were beautiful. Qibing would tease them: "The girls there are all radiant and exceptionally beautiful!" He would wink at the others as he spoke, causing everyone to chuckle in secret. When Kang Tai realized he was being teased, he would drop the subject. They would then ask about the local food. By then, Qibing would be lying down, describing with vivid detail the various snacks he had shared with the battalion commander. He spoke of how the locals dressed, their loud voices, and their typically rugged skin. They preferred milk tea and enjoyed their mutton and beef cooked to a medium-rare. Qibing also recounted his trip with Zhang Chao to the revolutionary holy site of Bailingmiao to recruit soldiers. The men of the Seventh Squad listened with envy, secretly hoping that one day they, too, could accompany the battalion commander on a recruitment mission to see the world beyond. They knew it was a distant dream that depended on their own military prowess and luck, but they felt an immense sense of pride that their squad leader had been chosen for such a journey.

By mid-July, the heat intensified, and the air was thick with swarms of mosquitoes. Despite this, the training grounds of the Xingtai Field Army echoed with deafening battle cries and the constant sound of gunfire from the range. The soldiers moved with agility and strength as they navigated the wooden horses. The grenade-throwing field erupted in thunderous blasts, filling the air with thick white smoke. Qibing was leading a group of soldiers, personally dismantling tank parts and teaching them how to reassemble them quickly. He reminded them of the tank's two fatal weaknesses: the infrared sight—the tank's eyes, which, if destroyed, would leave it blind—and the sprocket, which, if broken, would leave the tank immobile, no better than a pile of scrap metal. Finally, he taught them basic tank maintenance. Before they knew it, the sun had reached its zenith. Qibing continued to lecture with fervor. The sentries stationed around the camp were drenched in sweat, yet they stood tall and motionless. The five-star red flag at the camp gate fluttered in the wind, appearing even more vibrant and striking under the sunlight.

By the end of July, the entire regiment's vehicles had undergone inspection and maintenance. Several chiefs of staff, political instructors, battalion commanders, and company commanders gathered at the regimental commander's headquarters for a meeting. It was time for the field army's annual field survival training. After the meeting, the regimental commander issued an order: on August 1st, all soldiers—excluding the cadres and guards remaining at the base—were to set out fully armed for the Zhangbei Grasslands. This was the annual routine field survival training, also known as the "Great Field Drill."

On the morning of August 1st, the sky was overcast with a light mist. The cornfields were lush and green. Flocks of magpies chattered as they flew back and forth before the barracks, as if heralding good fortune. Qibing had received the orders the day before. Now, his Seventh Squad stood fully armed at the unit gate. Qibing saluted Company Commander Gao and reported, "Seventh Squad assembled and ready! Awaiting your instructions, Commander!" While directing other soldiers onto the trucks, Commander Gao replied, "Squad Leader Qibing, Battalion Commander Liu has other arrangements for you." "Yes, sir!" Qibing answered. At the gate, twenty-five "Liberation" trucks were assembled, led by a jeep and a military motorcycle. The night before, the various battalions, companies, and squads had loaded crates of ammunition and grenades onto the vehicles, along with a thousand rifles, hundreds of heavy machine guns, sniper rifles, satchel charges, 1020mm and 825mm artillery pieces, 40mm rocket launchers, and dozens of crates of smoke grenades for battlefield atmosphere. These supplies filled fifteen trucks, which were covered with thick tarps to prevent moisture. Two more trucks carried the logistics—dozens of large pots, cooking utensils, and supplies like vegetables, oil, rice, and salt. The remaining vehicles were for the soldiers. The fifteen tanks, being heavy weaponry, were transported by train to the vicinity of Jiangbei, where the armored company commander and fifteen drivers would take charge of them and drive them to the exercise site. Once everything was ready, Qibing ran to report to Battalion Commander Liu. He was to ride the military motorcycle to lead the vanguard with the commander. The commander ordered his guard to remove Qibing's backpack, lit two cigarettes, handed one to Qibing, and smiled. "Old Seven, after we finish this cigarette, we move out." Qibing, filled with excitement, replied, "Yes, Battalion Commander!" Soon, the battalion commanders reported to the regimental commander that all troops were boarded. Staff Officer Guo raised a small red flag, signaling for the convoy to depart. The regimental commander and the chiefs of staff boarded their vehicles. Qibing started the motorcycle, and Battalion Commander Liu climbed into the sidecar. Ten seconds later, the motorcycle roared to life and surged forward, followed by the jeep and the twenty-five trucks. They moved slowly, then gradually picked up speed. The supply trucks were in the middle, and Company Commander Gao sat in the front passenger seat of the last truck to provide support. To avoid disturbing the local people, the army had cleared the route to Zhangbei in advance. Although they departed during the day, they would find temporary spots to camp by nightfall. The sun had risen, revealing the vast, clear landscape. Qibing rode the motorcycle, carrying the veteran commander who had seen countless battlefields. Their bond, forged from the first day Qibing enlisted, had grown into a deep, mutual reliance—a fate destined by the heavens.

An hour later, the sun hung high, and the mist had vanished. Qibing sped forward with the commander, the convoy trailing behind with a constant, heavy roar. The soldiers, fully armed, looked like warriors heading into battle. They had left the Xingtai area, passed through the Yuanshi region, and entered the Shijiazhuang territory. The troops would enter Jingxing County from the northwest of Shijiazhuang. The roads in Jingxing were not wide but were relatively flat. Thanks to the advance clearing of the route, the convoy proceeded smoothly. After passing through Jingxing, they reached the revolutionary holy site of Xibaipo. It was midday, and the autumn sun was still scorching. The battalion commander lit two more cigarettes, handed one to Qibing, and looked ahead. "Old Seven, this is Xibaipo, the sacred site of the revolution. Have you been here before?" "No, sir," Qibing replied. "It's no wonder," the commander said softly, "even feeding the family was a struggle back home, let alone traveling to see the world. But Old Seven, you are lucky. Since joining the army, you've been to many places." Qibing replied with gratitude, "Commander, this is all thanks to your trust in me and your recommendation to the instructor. Otherwise, I would have been discharged and sent home long ago." As they chatted, the convoy cleared the Xibaipo region. In the distance, green crops swayed, and the mountain peaks to the northeast were covered in thick vines. Half an hour later, they reached a forested area. The commander ordered a halt, and Qibing signaled the convoy to stop. The regimental commander ordered the drivers to stay with their vehicles, and everyone received dry rations for a short rest before continuing.

As night fell, the troops passed through Zhaitou, Nanying, and Fuping, reaching Laiyuan County. The convoy wound through the mountains. Qibing rode the motorcycle through the eastern side of the Taihang Mountains. In the silence of the night, the roar of the engines sounded even louder, and the headlights were blindingly bright. Viewed from a distance, the convoy looked like a giant dragon, unstoppable and courageous—a spark of revolution as described by Chairman Mao, destined to start a prairie fire.

The next day at dawn, the troops camped at Xiheying. This was only temporary; they would move out again once night fell. Sentries were posted at every truck. Everyone else disembarked to rest, while the logistics company busied themselves cooking. Soon, thick smoke drifted into the air, followed by the aroma of food. Staff Officer Chen came to find Liu Zilong, suggesting he ride in a jeep tonight so Chen could lead the vanguard with Qibing. Liu Zilong glared at him and refused. Finally, Chen pointed at him and said, "You are truly stubborn! You're fifty years old and still insist on leading the vanguard—I give up!" Chen then ordered the battalion and company commanders to inspect the military supplies. All was in order. After the meal, everyone rested. Qibing fell into a deep sleep on a slope, surrounded by the men of the machine gun company. The battalion commander, regimental commander, and Staff Officer Chen sat in the shade of a tree, discussing matters. Before the meal, the drivers had refueled all the vehicles. The land was silent, save for a cool breeze that swept away the heat. Because of the towering mountains ahead, the troops had to take a detour. As night descended, the majestic convoy prepared to move out again.

Once darkness fell, Qibing rode with spirit, the commander in the sidecar, speeding ahead with the jeep and the twenty-five trucks following close behind. They traversed the night, passing through Xincha, Heishansi, and Zhuolu. After a one-day rest, they moved northwest from Zhuolu to Xinyao, passed through Wanquan, and finally reached Zhangbei County. Ten kilometers north of Zhangbei County lay the Zhangbei Grasslands.

At dawn, the Xingtai Field Army arrived in the grasslands after a seven-day and seven-night journey. The Zhangbei Grasslands, covering about 200 square kilometers, consist of the Zhongdu and Anguli grasslands—a place of beautiful scenery and pleasant climate. It is said that during the Qing Dynasty, the Qianlong Emperor used to hunt here. Today, this field army would station itself here for a large-scale field survival training exercise—an unprecedented and unrivaled event.

After the troops officially arrived, the regimental commander ordered everyone to disembark. After roll call, they quickly set up sentries at the perimeters and important exits. The vehicles were parked 200 meters southwest of the camp, with additional guards posted around them.

The regimental commander and his staff quickly discussed the distribution of the battalions and companies. The First Battalion was to station in the northeast, the Second in the northwest, and the Third in the southwest, with the command staff in the center. Once the orders were issued, the units dispersed. They began digging "dugouts"—their sleeping quarters—with the speed of a forced march. They swung their one-meter shovels, the scent of fresh yellow earth filling the air. In the First Battalion's area, the five-star red flag was hoisted high on a mast, fluttering over the vast grassland—a symbol of both martial power and revolutionary resolve.

Two hours later, the dugouts were finished. Qibing, his face covered in dust and his uniform soaked through, smiled with satisfaction at his own shelter. He looked around and saw the Seventh Squad had also finished. He walked over to Kang Tai and patted him on the shoulder. "Not bad, little brother from Sichuan." "Squad leader, mine isn't as good as yours," Kang Tai replied. "Who says that? I think yours is better than mine," Qibing said. He checked the others' dugouts; they were all barely acceptable. The commanders' dugouts had been dug by their personal guards, as these veterans had served the revolution long and hard and were no longer young. The sun reached its zenith, revealing the beauty of the grasslands: lush green grass, shallow pools, and birds singing in flight. Two kilometers away, small patches of forest dotted the landscape. The local authorities had cleared the area for ten kilometers around to ensure the army could train without interference. A hundred meters west of the camp, the logistics company had set up a dozen large pots. The rhythmic sound of chopping meat and vegetables grew lively. Under the blue sky and white clouds, smoke from the wood fires drifted, followed by the sizzle of stir-frying—a symphony of sound and aroma.

On the second evening, the fifteen tanks, escorted by Company Commander Gao and fifteen drivers, arrived to join the main force.

By August 9th, the Xingtai Field Army was officially settled. The Zhangbei Grasslands, at an altitude of 1,400 to 1,800 meters, featured rolling hills and a temperate continental monsoon climate. Though summers were generally warm, the high altitude made it chilly by August. The troops stood like gods descended from the heavens. The sentries, clutching their rifles, stood tall with unwavering gazes. Within a day, a training field was built one kilometer south of the camp, complete with pull-up bars, target ranges, grenade-throwing pits, and martial arts areas.

On the fourth day, Qibing and several squad leaders followed Company Commander Han to survey the area within five kilometers, identifying terrain suitable for ambushes and strongholds. They walked across the endless green expanse, a paradise of verdant grass. The blue sky and warm sun were refreshing, but as soldiers, they had no time for leisure. They marked the ambush points, and Commander Han gave a detailed briefing. They returned to camp by dusk.

At night, after the soldiers ate and the sentries were posted, everyone returned to their dugouts. Before leaving Xingtai, each soldier had been issued an imported wool blanket, which was moisture-proof and warm. Before sleep, they were required to study military knowledge and read Chairman Mao's quotations by the light of kerosene lamps. Qibing was on guard duty near the supply trucks that night. After a quick meal, he put on his overcoat, buckled his belt, and slung his rifle over his shoulder. He stepped out into the starlit night. The camp was lit by temporary lamp posts emitting a soft yellow glow. As he stood guard, his thoughts drifted to his mother. The day he left to join the army, her reluctant gaze remained etched in his memory. It felt like yesterday, yet she was gone, and he had never seen her one last time. It was a thorn in his heart. As he thought of her, tears traced paths down his face. A sudden, fierce gust of wind from the grassland swept through, carrying the scent of grass and dew, interrupting his grief.

During their time on the grasslands, the soldiers maintained a rigorous schedule: cross-country runs, martial arts, bar exercises, grenade throwing, and live-fire target practice. Every time they returned from training, the company commander would lead them in singing the "Target Practice Song": "The sun sets behind the western hills, the red clouds fly; the soldiers return from target practice, the red flags fluttering in the wind..."

On the night of August 25th, the sky was filled with stars. Qibing, in high spirits, was cleaning his rifle in his dugout. Earlier that day, Battalion Commander Liu had taken him out for a drive and discovered Bupiling, seventy kilometers away, which they guessed would be home to wild game. The commander had whispered, "Tonight, we go hunting. We leave in the middle of the night." Qibing had agreed, keeping it a secret. He had been looking forward to the moment ever since.

At midnight, the commander whistled—their secret signal. Qibing grabbed his rifle, loaded his ammunition belt, and climbed out. They took a driver and headed toward the jeep. The commander told them to say they were out on patrol if asked. The jeep roared into the darkness, crossing the hills. The commander sat in the passenger seat and turned to Qibing. As was their custom, Qibing lit two cigarettes and handed one to the commander. The cabin filled with smoke. "Old Seven," the commander said, "after this exercise, I'm retiring." "Retiring? Why, Commander?" Qibing asked, shocked. "I'm nearly fifty. My body can't keep up, and it's time to make room for the younger generation." Qibing felt his heart sink. "I don't want you to leave! I still want you to take me on recruitment missions!" "Old Seven," the commander said, smiling, "the instructor and Staff Officer Guo have seen your performance. Before we came to Zhangbei, the three of us recommended you for a promotion. When we return, your commission will come through. You'll be the new company commander of the machine gun company." Qibing, however, could not be happy. He knew the commander's words were true, but he could not bear the thought of him leaving. Tears rolled down his cheeks. To lighten the mood, the commander laughed, "Old Seven, let's catch a wild mountain goat at Bupiling tonight as a parting gift." Qibing wiped his face and choked out, "Commander, if we don't catch one, I'm not returning to camp!"

They drove into the dense forest of Bupiling. The headlights illuminated a thicket of larch and other trees. The jeep startled birds into flight. The commander ordered the driver to slow down. Suddenly, a pheasant flew past, startling them, but it escaped. Qibing kept his rifle aimed out the window. Just as the commander was about to light another cigarette, a hare darted across the road. Qibing fired—bang! The hare dropped. As Qibing jumped out to retrieve it, a mountain goat burst from the brush. The commander ordered the driver to turn around to use the headlights to track the animal. Qibing gave chase, rifle in hand. Minutes later, the goat bolted. Qibing took a thunderous shot at its head, and the animal collapsed with a final cry. The commander stepped out, patted Qibing on the shoulder, and said, "Old Seven, your marksmanship is truly infallible. I admire you!"

"Commander, compared to you, I still have a long way to go," Qibing replied with genuine admiration. They loaded the goat into the jeep and, after catching a few more hares and pheasants, headed back. It was 4:00 AM, and the temperature had dropped below freezing. Mist began to rise. They smoked and chatted as the driver sped back toward Zhangbei.

On August 29th, under a gloomy sky, the regimental commander ordered the First and Second Battalions to set up the practice field. They laid out tracks for moving targets, built grenade-throwing pits, prepared remote-controlled planes, and constructed various obstacles and fortifications. The Third Battalion moved the supply trucks to the designated spots. By nightfall, the exercise field was ready. Qibing was among the twenty elites chosen for guard duty. The grassland was silent and sacred under the starlight.

The next day, before dawn, the troops had finished breakfast. They filled in their dugouts and gathered at the trucks, heading to the exercise site. Once there, the staff officers distributed ammunition, rifles, and heavy weaponry. The regimental commander gave a speech, and Battalion Commander Liu fired a pistol into the sky—the signal for the drill to begin. Smoke grenades were deployed, filling the field with a white haze.

The First Battalion charged first, scaling walls and diving into trenches to engage the pop-up targets. Minutes later, the buzz of remote-controlled planes filled the air. The soldiers split up, some suppressing the targets while others fired at the planes. They blew up obstacles with satchel charges. The Second Battalion followed, and the sound of gunfire intensified. Qibing, Zhang Dashan, Zheng Ping'an, and Zhao Gang moved with unstoppable momentum. Qibing, using his sniper rifle, rolled into a firing position and engaged both the ground targets and the planes. Zhang Dahai appeared beside him, firing coolly at the planes, sending them crashing to the earth. Qibing gave him a thumbs-up.

As they reached the "enemy" restricted zone, Qibing threw two grenades into the core area, causing massive explosions. The Third Battalion joined the fray, crossing obstacles to reach the center of the field. The tanks roared into action. Qibing, checking his sniper rifle, took aim at a tank's infrared sight. He held his breath, aligned his sights, and squeezed the trigger. The tank ground to a halt. As others continued to advance, Qibing grabbed a rocket launcher, scrambled to a high point, and fired at the sprocket of another tank, immobilizing it instantly.

On the Zhangbei Grasslands, the sound of gunfire, roaring engines, machine-gun fire, and battle cries merged into a single anthem of victory for the New China.

Amid the smoke of the battlefield, the five-star red flag stood out, vibrant and proud. The soldiers, rifle in hand, faced the "enemy" without fear. This exercise proved that the North China Field Army, whether in terrain warfare or protracted conflict, was truly unrivaled.