Wind Rises in North America 1625

Chapter 580 Hero
September 24, 1643, Longan County (now Sydney, Vancouver Island).

The faint sounds of ship horns and seagulls from the harbor outside the window broke the morning's tranquility.

The early autumn sunlight streamed through the glass windows, casting dappled shadows on the floor of the room.

Mao Falu lay on the soft, clean bed, staring at the rustic pine wood grain on the ceiling. His fingers unconsciously caressed the delicate texture of the quilt, still feeling a dreamlike, unreal sensation.

A month has passed. He has returned to the peaceful Yongning Bay from the smoke-filled New Spain (Mexico), and then traveled north from Yuzhou (now San Francisco), receiving a hero's welcome in various towns. He always felt as if he were walking on cotton, his steps uneven.

"Brother Mao, you're awake?" Zhao Erhe, a naval hero and artillery expert in the same room, greeted him with a smile as he straightened the collar of his brand-new, crisp military uniform in front of the mirror. "Get up quickly. Although there's no report meeting today, the county magistrate has arranged a luncheon, and we'll be going to the recruit camp this afternoon. We're now 'model soldiers,' so we need to look our best."

"Okay, coming right away," Mao Falu replied, sitting up.

What they could touch was no longer the cold, damp mud walls of the trenches, nor the rough marching blankets, but dry, warm cotton quilts.

The room was bright and clean, and there was even a faint scent of soapberry.

This seems like a completely different world from the struggles on the "Goat Road" in Acapulco, the bloody battles at Santa María Fortress, and the sweeping raids in the Mexican interior.

He was dressed neatly, still in his proud army uniform, except that there were two silver stripes on his shoulder straps and the three combat medals on his chest were polished to a shine.

Pushing open the door, in late September in Long'an County, the air was fresh with a hint of chill. In the distance, lush spruce forests appeared and disappeared in the morning mist, and the harbor was rippling with blue waves and dotted with sails.

There is no smoke of gunpowder, no smell of death, only peaceful prosperity.

The group of eight combat heroes, led by two officers from the General Staff, rode in two open horse-drawn carriages, slowly making their way along the bluestone streets of Long'an County.

When the residents of the small town saw them, they stopped what they were doing and looked at them with admiration and enthusiasm. People would come up to greet them from time to time.

Some of the bolder children even ran after the carriage, shouting excitedly from time to time, their eyes full of anticipation.

"Look, that's Mao, the hero who was the first to charge into the gun emplacement in Acapulco!"

"I heard he single-handedly took down several Spanish devils!"

"When I grow up, I want to be like them and serve my country as a soldier!"

Hearing these comments, Mao Falu's face flushed, and he felt a mix of emotions.

He thought of Squad Leader Luo Daikui, the Shandong man who always called him a "little brat".

If the squad leader were still alive, he should be the one enjoying this glory right now.

And those brothers who fell in foreign lands, they are the real heroes, but they remain forever silent on unfamiliar soil.

"What's wrong, Brother Mao? You look preoccupied." Wang Yongfu, an army colleague known for his fierce grenade throwing, smiled and nudged his arm.

Mao Falu shook his head, a bitter smile playing on his lips. "It's nothing. I was thinking... are we really heroes? I always feel like we were just lucky to come back alive. The ones who truly deserve to be standing here are my squad leader, Erdan, Heiwa, and the others..."

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a melancholy that seemed out of place for his age.

The terrified blue eyes of the Spanish soldier in Acapulco before his death, the figure of Luo Da Kui falling with blood gushing from his chest, the numbness in his arm as he planted the flag on the walls of Cuernavaca, the beacon fires that ignited in one Spanish town after another... These images have not become blurred with the passage of time and the praise around them; on the contrary, they become clearer in certain moments of solitude.

Wang Yongfu's smile faded slightly. He patted Mao Falu's shoulder, still with considerable force: "Mao Zai, what you said makes sense, and it doesn't. The brothers who died are heroes, that's for sure. The country will remember them, and we should remember them even more."

"But those who survived, won the battle, and brought glory to Xinhua are heroes too. Do you think the higher-ups selected us to come out on this tour just to make us look good? It's to let the people know how our soldiers fight and how our country protects its people! That's called... yes, boosting morale!"

He looked at the crowds waving to them from both sides of the street and continued, “Yes, we were lucky to survive. But we have to live out the lives that our fallen comrades didn’t get to live. This honor doesn’t just belong to us, it belongs to our entire battalion, the entire army, and all the brothers who died in battle. We wear it, so we have to live up to it.”

These words struck Mao Faluo's heart like a heavy hammer.

He was no longer just that clueless young man who joined the army just to make a living, and who was a bit greedy and afraid of death.

That honor, carried on my shoulders, is heavy not only because of the medals, but also because of a responsibility.

Wang Yongfu lowered his voice and continued, "Besides, let's not be ungrateful for what we've gained. With this merit and reward, we're all allowed to study at the Army Academy without taking the entrance exam. That's an incredible stroke of luck! You know, the Army Academy only admits fifty students each year, that's one in ten thousand."

He leaned closer: "We join the army, we eat our rations, we risk our lives, what are we after? Isn't it just for a future, to bring honor to our ancestors? Think about it, your family's ancestral graves must have been emitting auspicious smoke for someone like you to have come along!"

future?

To bring glory to one's ancestors?
Mao Falu subconsciously clenched the silver peso he had brought back from Mexico in his hand.

Yes, this was his simplest wish when he joined the army.

Earn military pay, achieve military merits, and ideally become a junior officer to live a good life. The best outcome would be to marry a wife and continue the family line.

But now, these things seem to be within reach, even far exceeding his initial expectations.

Admission to the New South Wales Army School without examination!

This means he will leave the ranks of soldiers and embark on a completely different path.

Officers... The images of battalion commanders and company commanders flashed through his mind; they made decisions, gave orders, and bore the lives of many more people.

And what about me, an ordinary soldier who used to only know how to charge with his squad leader and fight with his blood and courage? Can I do it?
“I know, but…” Mao Falu took a deep breath, the early autumn chill seeping into his lungs, “but it feels… a little unreal. Before, in the class, if the squad leader told me to go east, I would never dare to go west. Now, suddenly I have to think about and learn how to lead troops on my own…”

"Who's born an official?" Wang Yongfu said dismissively. "Go learn! You're clever and fearless in battle, that's enough. When you get to school, study hard and one day lead a platoon or company even more capable than your Sergeant Luo! That's how you'll honor Sergeant Luo and the brothers who died!"

"To be worthy of our fallen brothers..." These words were like a ray of light, instantly piercing through the slight confusion in Mao Faluo's heart.

Yes, the living carry the hopes of the deceased.

He cannot remain forever immersed in the guilt of being a survivor or the dizzying glory of sudden triumph.

Luo Daikui's rough hand patting his helmet, and his shout of "Keep up!" are not just memories, but a kind of inheritance.

After lunch, they arrived at a recruit training camp on the outskirts of the city.

Above the wooden gate, the four large black characters "Serve the Country with Utmost Loyalty" stood out prominently in the sunlight.

On the parade ground, more than a hundred new recruits who had recently joined the army were undergoing drills and bayonet training under the command of their officers.

Most of them had youthful faces, their eyes filled with anticipation for the future and a hint of nervousness, just like... just like themselves two years ago. The training camp officers introduced these combat heroes to the new recruits and invited them to say a few words to them.

When it was Mao Falu's turn, he walked to the front of the line and looked at the young and energetic faces below, his throat tightening slightly.

His prepared "standard speech," which he had repeated countless times at various conferences, suddenly stalled.

The recruits' eyes were so clear, like...

He took a deep breath, glanced at the new recruits, and slowly spoke, his voice not loud but exceptionally clear: "Brothers, my name is Mao Falu, a soldier from the 1st Platoon, 2nd Company, 1st Mixed Battalion of the Army. ... Like you, when I first joined the army, I didn't know anything, I just wanted to eat my fill and not get scolded by my superiors."

A soft laugh rang out from the recruits, lightening the atmosphere.

"Later, war broke out, and our battalion was ordered to march to Mexico to fight the Spanish." Mao Fallu's tone turned somber. "I've seen the most dangerous cliffs and walked roads that could exhaust a person. I've also witnessed... the most brutal battles."

The bloody scenes at St. Mary's Fortress seemed to reappear before his eyes.

“My squad leader, Luo Daikui, was from Shandong. He wasn’t tall, but he was strong and had a fierce way of cursing.” Mao Falu’s voice trembled slightly. “He always said, ‘Maozai, stick close, the cannons don’t discriminate!’... In Acapulco, when we were finally attacking the St. Mary’s Battery, he charged ahead of me... and then... he never came back.”

The playground was completely silent, save for the sound of the flags fluttering in the wind.

The relaxed expressions on the recruits' faces disappeared, replaced by solemn ones.

“I was blinded by rage when I saw a Spanish soldier surrendering, probably younger than me, and I was trembling with fear… I… I stabbed him with my bayonet.” Mao Fallu lowered his head, looking at his hands as if they were still stained with blood. “I hated it. I felt that it was someone like him who killed the squad leader… But later, I always thought that he might just be an ordinary person who was forced to pick up a gun, just like… just like us.”

Upon hearing this, the officers nearby frowned slightly, their gazes toward this "combat hero" becoming somewhat scrutinizing.

Why do you say that?

You were supposed to boost the morale of the new recruits, but instead you've been trying to "bewitch" the soldiers!
Mao Falu raised his head, his eyes flashing with a complex light: "What I want to tell you is that war is not as glorious as it is in the plays. People die, many, many people die, your closest brothers, your most respected officers, and even yourself."

His voice echoed across the parade ground, each word like a hammer blow to the hearts of the new recruits.

"We wear this uniform and hold this gun not to be heroes or to be admired. It's so that our homes, Long'an County, Dongping County, and the entire Xinhua County can always remain as they are now, free from the smoke of gunpowder and unassailable by any enemy. It's also so that our loved ones and our fellow villagers can live peaceful and stable lives!"

His voice gradually became more impassioned: "Honor is dead, it's for the living to see! But skill is alive, it's what can protect you and the lives of your brothers. When I was in basic training, the officers often told us, 'Sweat more in peacetime, bleed less in wartime,' and that's not just empty talk."

"I hope each of you will remember this: on the training ground, train until you drop dead, train until you die, hone your fighting skills and your survival skills. So, all of you, open your eyes wide and train hard! Be worthy of this uniform, be worthy of... those brothers who will never come back!"

There are no fancy words, only the most basic feelings and the bloody truth.

The new recruits were deeply moved by the weight and sincerity in his words. Someone took the lead, and thunderous applause erupted on the parade ground, lasting for a long time.

The applause gradually subsided, but the flames burning in the recruits' eyes did not diminish.

The slight displeasure on the training camp commander's face dissipated slightly, and when he looked at Mao Falu again, there was a hint of barely perceptible approval in his eyes.

This young "hero" may not have said the "correct" things, but they were true enough, and the power of that truth is far more moving than any empty slogan.

Looking at the faces below the stage, which appeared even more resolute and earnest because of his words, Mao Falu felt as if some of the lingering sense of emptiness in his heart had been dispelled.

He paused, as if organizing his thoughts or questioning his own heart, before continuing in a steady voice: "Squad Leader Wang Yongfu just said that we are heroes. Along the way, many of our fellow villagers have called us that too."

His gaze swept across the audience and also over his fellow speakers. "To be honest, even now, hearing that title still makes my face burn and my heart feel heavy."

"What is a hero?" he asked, as if he were asking a new recruit, or perhaps he was asking himself.

"The heroes in storytelling and opera are all three-headed and six-armed, able to take the head of a general from the midst of a vast army and wipe out powerful enemies with a laugh. But we are not like that."

He shook his head, his tone carrying a calmness born of bloodshed. “We’re just ordinary people. We’re afraid of death, we miss home, we want a hot meal when we’re hungry, and we want to fall asleep when we’re tired. When we were climbing that cliff in Acapulco that wasn’t even a road, my legs cramped up, and I wished I could sneak into the bushes and desert. When we were fighting the Spanish in the fort, feeling the bullets flying all around, my mind went blank, and all that was left was the instinct to run.”

He raised his hand and pointed to the gleaming "Assault Courage" medal on his chest: "This thing isn't because I, Mao Falu, have more courage than others, or because I have any extraordinary abilities. It's because I was lucky enough not to be killed by artillery shells, not to be bitten by bullets, and not to fall off a cliff."

"It was also because I had officers like Squad Leader Luo by my side, and those brothers who fell down. It was they who pushed me, protected me, and even paved the way for me with their lives that allowed me to rush to the front in a daze and luckily make some contributions."

"So, in my opinion, the real hero is not me, nor is it the few of us standing here receiving everyone's applause." His gaze swept past the rows of recruits, as if piercing through time and space, returning to that fiery and brutal battlefield.

"A true hero is someone like Sergeant Luo Daikui, who usually scolds you the most, but in a critical moment, leaves the way to survival for you and charges forward into the face of bullets himself!"

"They are the brothers who, even though they are terrified themselves, are still reminding you to 'be careful' and 'hold on tight' on the narrow cliff path!"

"They are the nameless ones who fell silently on the front lines, without even having time to leave a last word!"

"They are those veterans in the rear hospitals, dragging their severed limbs, still thinking about whether they can return to the army!"

"And behind us, there are countless ordinary people who silently reclaim wasteland, build ships, cast cannons, and pay taxes, supporting us on the front lines with their sweat!"

With each word he spoke, his voice rose a notch, and his emotions surged ever more intensely.

“Our Xinhua was not built by one or two ‘heroes,’ but by countless ordinary people like us, who built it up bit by bit with their blood, sweat, and lives. And we few just happened to be pushed to the forefront and become their representatives.”

He looked again at the young recruits below the stage, his eyes burning: "Today, you stand here, and in the future, you will also go to the battlefield. You may be afraid, you may hesitate, and you may even subconsciously want to run away, but that is not shameful."

"But please remember, you are not fighting alone. Beside you are close comrades who can entrust their backs to you, and behind you are the people of your hometown who need your protection!"

"What is a hero? I think it's not the moment you receive a medal amidst cheers from the crowd, but rather an ordinary person who, in the most dangerous, difficult, and fearful times, still remembers why they put on this uniform, and who, for the sake of their brothers and the homeland behind them, grits their teeth, raises their bayonet, and bravely and fearlessly charges at our enemy!"

He finally shouted the words "ordinary person" with almost all his might, and his voice echoed in the air above the playground, striking heavily into everyone's hearts.

There was no applause; the playground was completely silent.

But the recruits' chests were heaving violently, and their eyes became brighter and more determined.

What they saw in this "hero Mao's" simple, even somewhat self-deprecating words was not a denigration of honor, but a deeper understanding of the collective and sacrifice, and a mind that attributed personal glory to the whole.

The training camp commander took a deep breath, strode forward, patted Mao Falu on the shoulder forcefully, and then looked at the recruits, his voice booming: "Did you all hear that clearly? You must memorize every word Mao Falu said."

"Heroes are not born, they are trained, they are fought for, and they are earned with the lives of countless ordinary brothers. If you want to live up to the word 'hero' and the uniform you wear, just like Mao Zedong said, train like you'd die, train hard to develop the real skills to protect your country!"

"Yes, sir!" The recruits roared, their voices filled with determination and fearlessness.

"From now on, I must live up to the title of 'hero'!" Mao Falu muttered to himself as he looked at the excited new recruits.
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(End of this chapter)