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

Kong Jie took a puff of his pipe, exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, and nodded in deep agreement.

"Who can argue with that? Back in the day, when we were fighting the Japanese in northwestern Shanxi, at least we knew the terrain well, and the local people were on our side. But this time, we were facing heavily armed American troops! Their planes swarmed overhead like locusts, and bombs rained down like storms. Our soldiers, relying solely on their own two legs, their rifles, and their grenades, managed to push them back!"

Ding Wei's eyes were sharp as an eagle's. He held his wine bowl and stared intently at the scorched earth outside the door.

"This battle forged the backbone of the Chinese people and secured decades of peace for our new China!" Ding Wei's voice was deep and powerful. "From this day forward, the days when Western imperialists could force us to submit by simply setting up a few cannons at our doorstep are gone forever!"

Zhao Gang took off his glasses and gently wiped the lenses with the corner of his shirt. Even this usually mild-mannered political commissar had reddened eyes.

"Yes, we won. But the price of this victory was too high..."

Zhao Gang's voice trembled slightly: "Hundreds of thousands of fine men have been left forever on this foreign land. Many of them didn't even leave behind their names. They shed their last drop of blood for their country, for their families back home to live a peaceful life."

The atmosphere in the command post instantly became incredibly heavy.

Everyone fell silent.

Lin Yang held the wine bowl, quietly gazing at the clear liquid within. Countless days and nights of the past three years flashed through his mind.

From the night raid on Wenjing to the infiltration at Sansuoli; from the icy wasteland of Changjin Lake to the blood and gore of Shangganling.

The special mountain independent division he led achieved remarkable feats, but also suffered extremely heavy casualties. More than half of the young soldiers who followed him in suppressing bandits in the mountains and infiltrating the snowfields have become loyal bones on the peninsula.

"Old Li, Old Zhao."

Lin Yang slowly stood up and poured the half-bowl of wine from his bowl onto the scorched earth beneath his feet.

"This glass is a toast to those brothers who couldn't come home with us."

Lin Yang's voice was hoarse, yet it possessed a power that pierced the soul.

"They are true heroes. We who are alive must watch over this country, watch our new China grow stronger day by day, on their behalf."

Li Yunlong and the others also stood up, poured the wine from their bowls onto the ground, and looked extremely solemn.

"Yangzi." Li Yunlong turned to look at Lin Yang, his bull-like eyes fixed on him. "The main force will be withdrawing back to China in batches tomorrow. What are your plans, kid? Are you going with headquarters, or with my army?"

Lin Yang raised his head and looked north, towards Changjin Lake.

"You guys go first."

Lin Yang took a deep breath, his tone carrying an undeniable resolve.

"There's one more thing I haven't done. I'll go back to China after I finish it."

"What is it?" Zhao Gang asked, puzzled.

"I need to go to Watergate Bridge Heights." A poignant sadness flickered in Lin Yang's eyes. "To pick up the brothers from the Ice Sculpture Company... and bring them home."

These words were spoken.

The command post fell into a deathly silence.

Li Yunlong's body jolted violently, his fists clenched tightly together, his knuckles turning white. Zhao Gang, Ding Wei, and Kong Jie's eyes instantly filled with tears.

Ice sculptures!

That was the most tragic and heartbreaking monument in the entire War to Resist US Aggression and Aid Korea! An entire company of soldiers, in order to hold their ground, turned into ice sculptures that would never fall in the extreme cold of minus forty degrees Celsius!

Back then, it was Lin Yang who led the commando team to witness that scene firsthand and made a vow to massacre the US 1st Marine Division.

Now, the war is over.

Those heroes whose souls were covered by ice and snow should now return to their hometowns.

"I'll go with you!" Li Yunlong suddenly drew his sidearm from his waist and slammed it on the table. "I'll personally carry the coffins for the brothers!"

"Let's go too!" Ding Wei and Kong Jie said in unison.

Lin Yang looked at his old comrades-in-arms who had shared life and death with him and nodded heavily.

"Alright! Let's go together and pick up the brothers to go home!"

……

three days later.

High ground outside the Sumun Bridge in the Changjin Lake area.

It was the height of summer, and the mountains of the peninsula were covered in lush green vegetation. What was once a bitterly cold, snow-covered hellscape was now overgrown with unknown wildflowers.

A gentle breeze carries the fragrance of flowers.

However, when Lin Yang, Li Yunlong, and others, leading more than a hundred elite soldiers from the special forces division, stepped onto this high ground, everyone's mood was even heavier than the ice and snow of that winter.

Traces of the battle from that year still remain on the high ground.

The crisscrossing trenches had partially collapsed, eroded by rainwater into deep gullies. Rusty shell casings, broken rifle stocks, and dead tree stumps snapped off by artillery fire were scattered everywhere.

"Commander, this is it."

He Yuzhu walked at the front. He now wore the platoon leader's collar insignia, a symbol of his officer status. More than two years of bloodshed had hardened his face like rock, and a long scar from shrapnel on his left cheek exuded a chilling aura of menace.

He Yuzhu pointed to the longest circular trench in front of him, his voice choked with emotion, barely able to speak.

Lin Yang stopped and slowly took off his military cap.

Li Yunlong, Zhao Gang, and others, along with more than a hundred soldiers behind them, also removed their hats and stood at attention in unison.

In the trenches, the bodies of those soldiers who had once turned into ice sculptures have long since turned to bones after more than two years of exposure to the wind and sun. But they still retain the postures they used in battle.

Some skeletal fingers were still tightly gripping the rusty trigger; some skeletons were still in the motion of throwing a grenade forward.

Even if they turn into withered bones, they will still hold their ground!

"Brothers...we won..."

Li Yunlong, this tough man, could no longer control his emotions. He knelt down by the trench with a thud, gripping the soil tightly with both hands, and burst into tears.

"Those American devils signed the armistice! We defeated them! Your blood wasn't shed in vain!"

Li Yunlong's cries echoed across the empty high ground, heart-wrenching.

With tears streaming down his face, Zhao Gang stepped forward and gently placed a handful of wildflowers, still glistening with dew, that he had just picked from the foot of the mountain next to a skeleton.

Lin Yang clenched his teeth, trying to hold back the tears welling up in his eyes.

He strode to the center of the trench, the very place where the young soldier who wrote his last poem had died.