Courtyard House: From Deputy Division Commander to Civilian, Progressing All the Way

At the same time.

Inside the Minister's office at the Ministry of Heavy Industry.

Lin Yang stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the swirling snowflakes in Beijing.

Zhao Lichun stood quietly behind him, holding a newly delivered border briefing in his hand.

"Minister, the special train has departed. The Northwest Military Region has dispatched a special operations platoon to escort it throughout the journey," Zhao Lichun reported.

"Understood." Lin Yang lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

"But Minister," Zhao Lichun hesitated for a moment before finally voicing his doubts, "Although the armored division of the corps is safe, the situation there is very tense right now. The Soviet tank divisions have already amassed along the border, and if fighting breaks out next spring, that will be the most dangerous front line. Are you really comfortable leaving Wei Dong and the others there..."

Lin Yang turned around, his eyes showing no trace of paternal tenderness, only a steely resolve and determination to shoulder the fate of the nation.

"A towering tree cannot grow in a greenhouse, nor can a battle-hardened general be cultivated in peacetime."

Lin Yang walked up to the huge military map and pointed heavily at the locations of Xinjiang and Zhenbao Island in Heilongjiang.

"The Soviets thought we were causing internal strife and wanted to take advantage of the situation. They were wrong."

Lin Yang exhaled a puff of smoke, and his eyes, which had witnessed countless deaths, once again ignited a fierce fighting spirit.

"If war is truly unavoidable, if the nation needs to shed blood."

Then my son, Lin Yang's son, must be the first! Because we are soldiers, this is our destiny, and also our honor. Beginning of Spring, get ready.

Lin Yang stubbed out his cigarette, his voice as cold as a knife.

"Send the latest main battle tank chassis data and armor-piercing anti-tank round blueprints to the Northwest via top-secret channels. I want to make those Russians suffer a bloody defeat on our border!"

············

The train sped across the vast northwest land, its wheels grinding against the rails with a monotonous and dull "clang".

The temperature inside the carriage was very low, and a thick layer of frost flowers had formed on the windows.

Lin Weidong wiped away a small patch of frost with the cuff of his military overcoat and silently gazed out the window at the seemingly endless Gobi Desert.

In 1953,

Lin Fan's son, Lin Jianguo, was born.

Lin Weidong was born in 1954.

All told, Jianguo is fifteen years old this year, while he himself is only fourteen. At this age, his peers in the compounds of Beijing are either sheltering from the storms under the protection of their parents, or aimlessly squandering their excess energy on the streets wearing red armbands.

The two brothers, however, were dressed in military uniforms without collar insignia or cap badges, and were personally pushed by their father to the front lines where war could break out at any moment.

"Weidong, are you cold?" Lin Jianguo poured a cup of hot water from his canteen and handed it to him.

Jianguo inherited Lin Fan's personality; he was down-to-earth and honest. Although he also had the Lin family's spirit in his bones, he always took care of his cousin, who was a year younger than him, like an older brother.

"It's not cold." Lin Weidong took the enamel mug, warmed his hands with it, and turned his cool gaze back from the window. "Brother, we'll be there soon. Dad said that once we get to the Production and Construction Corps, we'll just be ordinary recruits. Don't mention his name, and don't mention Yuquanshan Compound."

Lin Jianguo nodded heavily, clenching his fist: "I know. We not only can't let Second Uncle down, we have to do better than everyone else. Don't those rebels want to see us go to the forest farm to die? We'll make something of ourselves on the frontier!"

Two days later, the military train slowly came to a stop at a small border post in Xinjiang, where sandstorms raged.

This is the garrison of the Independent Armored Division of the Xinjiang Production and Construction Corps.

A fierce wind whipped up yellow sand, stinging their faces like knives. The two brothers, carrying heavy tactical backpacks, had just stepped off the platform when a military jeep covered in mud and sand stopped in front of them.

A dark-skinned major with a deep frostbite scar on his cheek jumped off the vehicle.

The major looked the two boys up and down, his eyes showing no favoritism or pity, only the coldness of someone who had been stationed on the frontier for many years.

"Lin Jianguo? Lin Weidong?" The major coldly read out the names on the list.

"Here!" The two immediately stood at attention, chests puffed out.

"I'm Gao Dashan, the company commander of the armored division's recruit company." The major pointed to the back of the jeep. "Get in! Commander Kong instructed that you are specially approved national defense reserve soldiers. But here, there are no special treatments. Even if you're the sons of the Emperor himself, once you get to this Gobi Desert, I'll skin you alive first!"

The jeep sped along the bumpy, gravel road for two hours before finally entering a massive military base hidden beneath huge sand dunes and camouflage netting.

The air here is filled with a strong smell of diesel fuel, engine oil, and the cold, metallic scent of steel.

On the parade ground, dozens of old Type 59 medium tanks stood in neat rows, like lurking steel behemoths. A group of armored soldiers, wearing training uniforms stained with oil, braved the sub-zero temperatures of over twenty degrees below zero to climb up and down the tanks for maintenance.

Lin Weidong's eyes lit up instantly. That primal fervor, that instinctive passion for war machines that belongs to men, ignited in his blood.

Company Commander Gao parked the car at the edge of the parade ground and pointed to the row of tanks.

"Look closely. These are your future wives, your lives! We're on the front lines of national defense, facing the Russian armored formations. If a war breaks out, we'll be the first and last line of defense!"

Company Commander Gao turned to the two still-childish boys, his tone chilling: "It's not too late to regret it now. If you both say you can't do it, I'll immediately have someone buy you train tickets and send you back to Beijing to be your pampered young masters!"

Lin Weidong didn't say anything. He simply slung his 30-pound backpack over his shoulder and strode towards the row of steel behemoths, braving the biting cold wind.

Lin Jianguo followed closely behind.

The two gave the most straightforward answer through their actions.

From that day on, the hellish training began.

In the winters of the frontier, water freezes instantly. The hull of a Type 59 tank can freeze solid at night, resembling a giant block of ice.

The first task in basic training is not driving a tank, but maintaining the tracks.

At four o'clock in the morning, as soon as the reveille sounded, Lin Weidong and Lin Jianguo had to join the veterans, carrying large iron hammers and crowbars, to knock the frozen mud and sand out of the gaps in the tracks.

Steel becomes exceptionally brittle and hard in extreme cold. On the first day Lin Jianguo wielded the sledgehammer, because he wasn't wearing gloves, a piece of skin on his palm stuck directly to the cold iron handle. When he ripped it off, blood gushed out.

But he didn't even flinch. He grabbed a handful of snow, pressed it onto the wound, bandaged it haphazardly, and continued swinging the hammer.