Chapter 7: Main Text Chapter Seven Great Glacier

Main Text Chapter Seven Great Glacier

I stood up and stood at attention, imitating the squad leader's accent as I answered him: "No, no, why is it me again? It's also time for Lamu Cuo, that little brat, to have a turn. Equality for all is the principle of socialism."

The deputy squad leader said: "Xiao Hutongzhi, why do you spout so much nonsense? I told you not to imitate my way of speaking—I am the squad leader, I tell you to speak and you speak; don't talk about absolute egalitarianism, right?"

I glanced around at my comrades; they were all sitting upright, waiting for me to speak. The little brat, taking advantage of the squad leader's inattention, stuck out his tongue at me. These guys are so unbrotherly. I could only give myself a way out: "Report to the squad leader, what are we discussing today? You haven't said it yet; if you don't tell us, how are we supposed to speak?"

Just then the instructor approached. Instructor Li Jian, in his thirties, of medium build, was a refined person, a veteran of over ten years. He treated the soldiers well, without pretension, walked over and said to everyone: "Comrades, are you holding a meeting? I'd like to listen in."

The deputy squad leader hastily saluted the instructor; the instructor waved his hand, saying, "Carry on, don't let me interfere with your discussion."

The deputy squad leader's ability was low; seeing the instructor nearby made him especially nervous, not knowing what to say. He thought singing would be simpler, so he told the soldiers: "Comrades, let's sing a revolutionary song to boost morale, okay?"

The soldiers replied in unison: "Swollen." The instructor, hearing this, almost laughed out loud, quickly feigning a cough to cover it up.

The deputy squad leader, however, didn't hear anything funny; with a solemn face he raised both hands, making a conducting gesture: "Comrades, I'll start us off—'Er ya ma Erlang Mountain,' ready, sing."

"'Er ya ma Erlang Mountain, even if you rise ten thousand feet, the iron-willed soldiers of the People's Liberation Army, determined to forge ahead, unafraid of the wind that blows, unafraid of the snow that drifts, will build that road all the way to Tibet.'" The snow in the sky fell heavier and heavier; the chorus of a dozen soldiers echoed among the white snow drifting across Kunlun Mountain. One couldn't tell whether the vast, snowy mountains accentuated the grandeur of the military song, or the soldiers' voices adorned the desolate loneliness of Kunlun Mountain. For a moment, even several engineers in another tent were drawn to the song, forgetting their altitude sickness, gazing into the endless distant peaks as their thoughts rose and fell.

Finally the instructor gave everyone a few words: "Just like you all, this is also my first time coming to Kunlun Mountain; the conditions here are indeed extremely harsh, the environment very brutal, we face the most severe test. But my comrade brothers, we are not an ordinary unit—our company's title is the 'Bayonet Hero Company,' an honor earned by the seniors of the Sixth Company with their lives and blood. No matter what, we cannot let this flag be tarnished; now the Party Central Committee Chairman Mao has entrusted this glorious mission to us, a tremendous trust placed in our Sixth Company. We must certainly carry forward the revolutionary spirit of fearing neither hardship nor death and successfully complete this mission. Comrades, do you have the resolve?"

We all replied in unison: "Yes."

The instructor nodded satisfactorily and continued: "Rest early today; our small detachment will cross the Great Glacier tomorrow, everyone must prepare in advance. All right, dismissed."

On the morning of the third day after entering the mountains, the detachment reached the Great Glacier. Legend has it that there is an extremely low-lying small basin nearby, which is our destination for this trip. Because it is a secret mission, we cannot hire a local guide (in fact, nobody knows the way), so we must rely on a roughly drawn military map, searching for the destination among contour lines as tangled as grass.

The Great Glacier consists of three parts, with extreme elevation drop and steep slopes; its highest point exceeds six thousand meters in altitude, the snow never melts after ten thousand years. In the middle lies the longest section, a sheer expanse of ice as smooth as a mirror, the ice layer reaching over a hundred meters thick; the lowest part lies even below the average elevation of the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, sinking deep into the earth like a fissure. Here the geothermal warmth creates a rare band of green vegetation; at the lowest point the altitude sickness eases, so if we wish to continue deeper into Kunlun Mountain, we must pass through the valley beneath the Great Glacier.

Before setting out, the engineers had warned everyone that marching beneath the glacier must not produce any loud noise, otherwise it could trigger an avalanche from the peak, burying us alive below.

Everyone dared not even breathe, yet an accident still occurred midway: while descending from the glacier into the valley, an engineer from Beijing lost his footing and fell onto the glacier. In the oasis below the glacier we found his body, mangled beyond recognition. The female geological surveyor Luo Ning, his colleague in the same unit, could not help but want to burst into tears at the sight.

A geological expert surnamed Wang quickly covered her mouth with his hand and whispered: "Don't cry out loud."

Luo Ning buried her face deep in Wang Gong's embrace, sobbing in pain. The instructor led by removing his cap, offering a silent farewell to his comrade's corpse. Then I and the little brat together gathered his body, placed it in a bag, and buried it. This engineer had been with us less than three days; I only knew he was from Beijing, and I hadn't even learned his name before he died soundlessly.

The big fellow lightly dug at the earth with an entrenching shovel; after only a few scoops, a huge blue fireball the size of a basketball shot out of his pit, spun twice in midair, then slammed into the crowd, and the detachment's members hurriedly scattered to avoid it.

The fireball landed on the ground, its blue flames gradually dying out; it turned out to be a strangely shaped little ladybug, its whole body like red transparent crystal, its wings even more crystal clear—through its transparent carapace one could faintly see the semi-transparent organs inside, within which a flame seemed to flow, giving it an ineffably mysterious and uncanny appearance.

Everyone glanced at each other, all wanting to ask what kind of bug this was, but nobody could give an answer; it was likely an undiscovered species. Wang Gong curiously went over, pushed up the deep-myopia glasses resting on his nose bridge, and eagerly used two fingers to pinch the ladybug that looked like a red flame, examining it carefully—but just then, the point where his fingers touched the bug ignited with a blue flame, and in an instant mighty flames engulfed his entire body.

Wang Gong's whole body was consumed by the blue flames; blisters instantly covered his skin, then his flesh burned away, the glasses on his nose bridge melted and fell to the ground, and he collapsed in agony, writhing on the ground.

We wanted to save him, but it was already too late; his screams as the fire demon burned him echoed through the valley, making everyone feel a chill, and it seemed he wouldn't die anytime soon.

Someone tried to smother the flames with dirt using a shovel, but his burns covered a hundred percent of his body—deep burns—even if we temporarily extinguished the fire, in this medicine‑scarce, deep part of Kunlun Mountain he probably wouldn't last more than an hour or two; wouldn't that just let him suffer alive?

The sight of a living person being burned by fire was too cruel; Luo Ning dared not look any longer, turned her head away, her expression frozen, hands over her ears, mouth open, not knowing whether she wanted to cry or shout. The youngest, Xiao Lin, was terrified, hiding behind the big fellow, his whole body trembling.

The deputy squad leader drew his pistol, wanting to end his suffering; he could not bear to watch him endure this, and if his shouting continued it would surely trigger an avalanche.

The instructor grabbed the deputy squad leader's hand as he was pulling the bolt of his pistol, and whispered: "Don't fire; use the bayonet—let me do it."

Tens of thousands of tons of snow hung suspended above the glacier's peak; any slight disturbance could trigger a catastrophic consequence. Now the only way we can help Wang Gong is to plunge a bayonet into his chest, letting him die swiftly.

Without delay, the instructor took a rifle with fixed bayonet—a Type 56 semi‑automatic—from a soldier's hands, softly said "Sorry, comrade brother," closed his eyes, and drove the bayonet into Wang Gong's heart; Wang Gong finally stopped his heart‑rending howl, collapsed motionless, though the flames on his body continued to burn.

Just as the instructor was about to withdraw the bayonet from his chest, the eerie blue flame flared brightly, actually traveling along the bayonet up the rifle's barrel.

The speed of the flame's transmission was astonishing—less than the blink of an eye—before anyone could grasp what had happened, the instructor's entire body was already engulfed in the blue blaze.

Like Wang Gong, the instructor struggled and screamed in agony; everyone knew him well—he was absolutely a tough man, though his appearance was frail, his endurance and willpower met the standard of an outstanding professional soldier; no one knew how excruciating the pain of being burned by that strange fire must be to make him utter such a lament.

The deputy squad leader lifted his pistol with tears in his eyes; he no longer cared whether firing might trigger an avalanche, for he could not bear to watch the instructor suffer any longer—just as he was about to pull the trigger, the instructor, his whole body aflame, suddenly spoke: "I order……none of you may fire……quickly take the comrades away from here……"

Although the instructor's anguish was hard to bear, his mind remained clear; he realized his screams might provoke an avalanche, so to stay silent he reversed the red‑hot bayonet and drove it into his own heart. After a long, long time, his body burned down to a pile of fine ash.

The remaining members of the detachment watched the heroic, tragic scene in anguish, each clenching fists, gritting teeth, trying to hold back the tears welling in their eyes; some even bit their own lips until they bled.

The valley lay silent, not a sound to be heard; the azure sky above reflected in the glacier's ice, giving the illusion that there were two identical skies, one above and one below, indistinguishable—a fairy‑like splendid landscape, yet filled with an eerie, terrifying atmosphere.

On the ground lay two piles of ash; just minutes before they had been living people, now they were reduced to tiny heaps of ash, burned so completely that not even bone fragments remained. If no one had witnessed these events, who could believe such a thing could happen in the world?

Suddenly, from the ashes left after Wang Gong's cremation, a blue fireball shot out, hovering before the crowd as if choosing its next target; its speed was astonishingly great, and within its attack range nobody felt confident of escaping. A faint vibration sounded in the air, presumably the strange ladybug's wingbeats as it flew.

Now the detachment has lost three people—all key members: the leader, the instructor, and two engineers have sacrificed; the two remaining engineers are the surveyor Luo Ning and Liu Gong of the Shanghai Geological Survey Institute, making it seem this mission cannot be accomplished.

Without the instructor, the soldiers felt deprived of their mainstay, yet almost everyone, when confronting that eerie blue fireball, thought the same: "I would rather be buried alive by an avalanche than be burned to ashes by this demon."

A few impatient soldiers had already raised their rifles to aim at the ladybug hovering in midair when the deputy squad leader suddenly stepped forward and said to everyone: "Comrades, the instructor has sacrificed; now I am the squad leader! I order you all to make it back alive for me, okay?"

I understood what the deputy squad leader intended—he wanted to sacrifice himself to buy precious time for the others to withdraw. I grabbed his arm, choking up, and said: "No, you're not even a party member; what gives you the right to go? I should go."

The deputy squad leader shoved my hand aside: "You little Hu, you aren't even a youth league member; I told you not to copy my speech, yet you won't listen." Before he finished speaking, he turned and rushed straight at the fireball hanging in the air without looking back.