by Liu Zhenyun
“Which bastard reported me?” he fumed when he returned from his meeting.
These two incidents caused a major decline in Wang’s status, and he lost most of his shine. No longer asked to help out with wall newspapers, he had to pick up his rifle to drill with the rest of us. But he was no good at it. By then we were practicing grenade throwing. The heaving distance was thirty meters, which we mastered easily, but not Wang, who could only manage twenty meters no matter how much he practiced. He burst into tears at one point, a rare sight, since we were used to seeing him mock others. He was good at crying actually.
“Damn, it’s so hard!” he sniffled.
All this added up until the platoon leader decided to strip Wang of his title of key cadre, with Fatty as his replacement. After his misstep during the review, Fatty worked hard to make up for it and was looking pretty good, with active participation in the anti-Lin, anti-Confucius campaign. It turned out his family had suffered tremendously—his grandfather had died at the hands of their landlord. He wasn’t satisfied with the required thirty-meter goal for grenade throwing either; he continued to practice every day after dinner. So he got his old title back. As for Wang Di, he committed a grave petty bourgeois error by glaring at Fatty when he lost his title, and saying, “You can have it. I don’t want it. What’s the big deal anyway? All you can do is throw a grenade.”
The rebuke had Fatty tongue-tied; he opened his mouth but couldn’t say a word as his eyes moistened. A meeting on daily life was held at noon that day, when the platoon leader came personally to “promote positive attitudes to rectify negative trends.”
“You have only yourself to blame when you go downhill. But it becomes a character flaw when you mock those who are better than you.”
Wang hung his head and kept quiet. He looked visibly thinner.
Fatty was feeling pretty good about his promotion and the praise from the platoon leader, but knew enough to hide his satisfaction when he noticed the look on Wang’s face, especially since we’d all arrived together.
“I’m not entirely qualified to be a key cadre. I’ll work harder.”
Spring came, melting the ice and snow so the planting season could begin. We had to clear the desert floor of rocks, and then dig up and loosen the soil. We worked so hard our hands were covered with blood blisters. Wang Di was with us, but in lackluster fashion. Li Shangjin told me to have a talk with him, so I went out into the field with Wang one night after dinner.
“We get along well so I’m going to be frank with you, and don’t be upset with me. You have to pull yourself together. Our training will be over in a month and you have to maintain a good record. Otherwise, you could be assigned to a terrible company.”
“I know I’m finished, Banfu,” he said with a bleak look.
I told him that wasn’t true; he just had to get his act together and make noticeable progress.
“I’ll give it try,” he said, with little conviction.
It was late by the time we returned to the barracks.
“Did you talk to him?” Li asked.
“I did.”
“Did he get a good sense of what he needs to do?”
“I think so.”
“That’s good.” Li lit a cigarette. “He’s too young to go downhill so fast. He has to toe the party line.” Then he stood up. “Come, let’s you and me have a talk.”
I walked out again under the starry night sky.
“What do you want to talk about, Banzhang?”
“I’ve got something to show you.” He giggled.
“What is it?”
He looked around to make sure we were alone before leading me over to a spot behind a sand dune, where he took a piece of paper out of his pocket. He handed it to me before turning on his flashlight for me to take a look. Oh, it was a photo of a young woman, heavyset with a swarthy face framed by thick, rope-like braids. Her smile revealed a pair of big teeth. Puzzled, I looked up at him.
“What do you think?”
“Not bad.”
“That’s my girlfriend.”
“How long have you been together?”
“I met her last time, when I went home to see my parents.”
Now I knew; it was the girl for whom he’d risked his career by wearing his uniform and bayonet.
“Pretty good, Banzhang. You should keep seeing her,” I said, thinking he wanted my view.
“I don’t need to do that anymore. It’s all settled. She’s all for advancement. She asks me about my party membership every time she writes. She puts so much pressure on me I have trouble sleeping at night.”
“No need for that, Banzhang,” I said. “It’ll come any day now.”
He chuckled before murmuring cryptically, “Yes, I got some reliable info this afternoon. The company is going to grant party membership to a few squad leaders and I heard I’m one of them. That’s why I’m showing you the photo.”
Now I finally got it. I was happy for him. “Remember how you weren’t sure about your promotion to squad leader? And remember I told you it was a test? See what happened.”
He chuckled again. “I’m telling you because you and I are buddies. Don’t tell anyone, all right? It’s not a done deal yet.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t.”
He lay down on the desert and, with his hands behind his head, sighed. “Everything is fine now. I’ll be okay even if I’m discharged. Now I can face those back home.”
He was like a new person over the next few days, running around in unusually high spirits, as he made sure we all did our job well. Even his commands on the drill ground were loud and crisp.
At a meeting a few days later the political instructor announced the names of those comrades who had met all prerequisites for party membership. Each squad was told to discuss the results and offer our views to the party branch. He read out the names: “Wang Jianshe,” “Zhang Gaochao,” “Zhao Chenglong,” and so on. But no Li Shangjin.
Stunned, I glanced at Li, who had looked cheerful at the beginning of the meeting, but now was ashen-faced and shaking uncontrollably, his eyes fixed on the instructor’s lips. But the man was done reading names and had moved on to something else.
Li was nowhere to be seen when we returned to hold our squad meeting about the candidates. I asked if anyone had seen him.
“He’s always saying that so-and-so lacks motivation for improvement,” Wang said in his usual mocking tone, as he lay on his bedroll with his hands behind his head. “He must be off somewhere crying, since he didn’t get selected.”
“You saw him crying?” I glared at him.
“Don’t listen to him,” Fatty said. “Banzhang went to company headquarters.”
“Why are you sucking up to him now that you’re a key cadre?” Wang turned his attack onto Fatty.
“I’m not.” Fatty’s face reddened as he pounced on Wang.
I pulled them apart and pointed an angry finger at Wang. “What kind of backward talk is that? Are you itching for another lifestyle meeting from the platoon leader?” I walked out to look for Li.
He was standing blankly outside company headquarters, oblivious of all the people going in and out of the office. I ran up to drag him away to a quiet spot behind the toilet.
“Why were you standing there, Banzhang? It looked really bad.”
He was still in a daze, as if he had lost his mind. “I went to ask the political instructor if he had missed a name, and he said no.” Li began to sob.
“Don’t do that, Banzhang. People can hear you when they come to use the toilet.”
He ignored me and continued to sob. “The political instructor criticized me for having impure motives to join the party. But a few days ago … why did it change?”
“Don’t be in such a hurry. Maybe you’ll be picked after they test you a while longer.”
“When will the testing be over? Probably not till I’m discharged.”
“Let’s put that aside, all right? You have to hold a squad meeting.�
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I managed to get him back to the squad, only to be greeted by the sight of the political instructor holding the meeting himself. He frowned when he saw Li and me walk in.
“Where have you been? The squad leader and the deputy squad leader are supposed to be present for the meeting to get everyone to share their views on the candidates.”
He gave Li another look before walking out.
Li sat down and said in a flat tone, “Go ahead and say what you think. The banfu will take notes.”
Li was a different person over the next few days; gone were his morale and attention to squad matters. He stopped getting us to work hard and could not care less about what we did during military training. The weekend evaluation put our squad in last place for daily routines, worrying everyone except Wang Di, who gloated over the poor rating and sang “Socialism is great” whenever he could. The others thought he was mean-spirited; they asked me to talk to Li again.
It was another starlit night when I took him to the same spot behind a sand dune.
“We know each other well enough that I’ll be frank with you, Banzhang. Please don’t be like Wang Di. Won’t it be hopeless for you in the future if you let yourself go now because you didn’t make the list this time?”
He had clearly lost weight. “You’re right. But I simply don’t understand why. I was as good as any of them.”
“We all know that, and you spent a long time at the boiler room.”
“Even not counting that, I’ve done my best since becoming squad leader and we were never behind.”
“You’re right, but you shouldn’t dwell on these unhappy thoughts. Keep at it and see what happens when the training is over.”
“I know that’s the right thing to do,” he said with a sigh. “I’d have wasted these past few years if I don’t pull myself together.”
“You have to have faith in the army and the party.” I tried to make him feel better.
“You have no idea,” he nodded, “but there’s another thing that bothers me.”
“What is it?” I was surprised.
“I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry.” He sighed again. “After I showed you the picture the other night, I wrote the girl a letter to tell her I’d be a party member soon. She wrote back to congratulate me. After what just happened, what am I going to say to her now?”
“That’s tough, I agree. Here’s what I think. Don’t write her for now. Wait till next month, when the training is over and you become a member.”
“I guess that’s all I can do now.” He nodded.
He did pull himself together after that and went all out with squad matters again. Soon our squad performance shone again.
One day, when Fatty, Chief, and I were out gathering pig waste, Li came running up to me. “Banfu,” he shouted to me. He was smiling.
“What’s up?” I put down my shovel.
“Come with me.”
When I walked over, he led me to a spot behind the pigpen. “Good news.”
“What is it?”
“I was in the bath house with the deputy company commander. It was just the two of us. As I was scrubbing his back, he told me that I as long as I held up under the testing, sooner or later I’d gain admission.”
“That’s good.” I was happy for him. “I didn’t think the army was blind to your performance. You’ll be a party member sooner or later. Even a month is no big deal.”
“You’re right. I should have known better. It’s a good thing I didn’t act like Wang Di and let myself go.” He jumped into the pigpen to help us.
“We’re almost done.” The three of us tried to stop him. “Don’t get your hands dirty.”
“One more person will get it done faster. We’re all key cadres, so it’s a good opportunity for us to talk about how to improve our squad performance.”
That was what we ended up doing, squatting in the pigpen talking about our squad.
5
Our platoon leader was an eccentric who liked to do things his own way. Like sleeping. He preferred to sleep during the day and get busy at night. He was capable of snoring away in broad daylight, but tossed and turned when it turned dark. Being farm boys, none of us were used to afternoon naps, since we’d had to go out to cut grass after lunch. He, on the other hand, loved to nap and made everyone lie quietly in our beds along with him. After a day of training, we would be so exhausted we wanted nothing more than sleep, while he, full of energy, rested against his bedroll to read. When he read at night, he preferred a candle over a reading lamp, claiming that the candle was better at creating a feel of studious reading. But the bright candle flickered and lit up the whole room.
“Just like my grannie spinning cotton at night,” Wang Di commented once.
Sometimes the platoon leader sacrificed his noon naps to write letters or lecture us. It put us on edge whenever he started writing, because it usually took him five or six tries to finish one letter. He’d write a page, read it, crumple it up, and toss it way with a frown. Then he’d start over again, only to repeat the process. That would go on for a while, until his mood soured and we knew better than to make a noise. If he wasn’t interested in letter writing, then he’d give us a lecture or hold a meeting, like the one criticizing Wang Di earlier. We all agreed that we’d prefer that the platoon leader turn nights into days, for that would mean less trouble. We’d watch him after lunch and were relieved at the sight of him climbing into bed.
Tender shoots sprouted on the willow trees as a rare spring rain fell on the Gobi. The company commander gave us the day off since we couldn’t train outdoors. Rainy days were made for sleeping, perfect for resting up. We were all yawning after lunch and spread out our bedrolls when the platoon commander raced in.
“No nap today. We’re having a meeting.”
That announcement made us uneasy, for that probably meant another lecture, though the gleeful look on his face said something else was up. Puzzled, we rolled up our bedding and sat in a circle to wait for him to start.
First he poured a cup of tea and blew on it noisily, then he settled into a chair and took out a notebook. “I went to a meeting at company headquarters,” he said, flipping through his notebook. “Basic training will be over in three weeks, so we talked about your assignments. I’m going to give you a hint.”
We tensed up and inched forward, our sleepiness vanishing instantly. Wang Di, who had been acting indifferent, grew suddenly attentive. With assignments pending after three months of training, we were eager to know what our future looked like.
“Relax. Your performance will decide which company you’ll be assigned to. Do you want to join a good company?”
“Yes, sir,” we shouted in unison.
“Good. Then you have to show it. Actual assessments will begin soon. You must work hard on your performance. It’s all up to you.”
He went on with his lecture for a while. “Are you confident you can do it?”
“Yes, sir,” we shouted together again.
He lit a cigarette and continued with a squint.
“Why don’t you talk about what you’d like to do?”
So we did. Some wanted to be assigned to the company, some to the firing range, some to the warehouse. The platoon leader then turned to Fatty, who was sitting next to him.
“How about you?”
Fatty was so emotional his face was beet red. “I’d like to drive for the army commander.”
That made us laugh.
“You?” someone said. “
“Why do you want to be his driver?” the platoon leader asked.
“He looked like a good guy.”
“Then you have to work hard.” The platoon leader patted the back of Fatty’s head. “There’s hope for you.”
Fatty looked pleased.
We were raring to go after the meeting, as we sat down to write pledges.
The pace of basic training picked up, with assessments of our grenade throwing and target shooting skills. It was hard on
us, since we felt we were beyond that, but we threw ourselves into the training because our future depended on it. The assignment process was a competition: if one got a good one, another might not. Understandably, that strained our relationships, and the scheming began. We had once enjoyed throwing grenades and marksmanship, but no longer. Everyone was now given to finding a secret place to practice before lights-out, and no one said a word about how they were doing.
Li Shangjin called a meeting with Fatty, Chief, and me.
“We need more teamwork. If everyone just looks out for himself, squad unity will suffer, and so will our performance,” Li said.
He held a squad meeting, at which he impressed upon everyone the importance of collaboration. After dinner that night, he got everyone to line up and march to the drill ground. We ran into the deputy company commander on the way.
“What are you up to?” he asked.
“Some extra practice during our rest period.”
“Good.” The deputy company commander nodded.
But it was still every man for himself; we did our best to throw the grenades but tried to hide the results. Li Shangjin was the only exception, as he ran around announcing distances.
The company commander gave us less time to fall out at night, reducing it from ten minutes to five. We were, however, seasoned enough to make it, and Chief no longer mixed up his shoes. Fatty was the only one who had trouble. He panicked, either because he was too tense from training earlier in the day or because he had trouble sleeping at night. He would hurry out after the whole company had lined up, sometimes carrying his backpack the wrong way, and once even wearing his pants backward.
“You’re a key cadre, Li Sheng’er,” Li Shangjin said, “so don’t drag us down in our squad performance.”