A Chinese Lamb Trained in the Military

Yifeng Wei

One day last year, I was eating lunch with two girls at work in a local, Prince Edward Island Chinese restaurant. The noodles were delicious, the two girls were teasing each other while shoveling in food, and there was pleasant whispering wafting from other tables. All of sudden, the big glass window we were sitting by was rattling with loud thumps, as if somebody was throwing some objects at the window. We stood up, saw a group of high school students swarming around the corner of the restaurant parking lot, flying snowballs into the plate-glass windows.

The restaurant quieted down, with the exception of the high worrying voice of the owner talking to the police on the phone. Two male customers rushed out in fury, but minutes after their return, more heavier thumps crashed into the window. We sat down, continued our noodles in silence.

Then I stood up and said to the girls, “I will be back.” I walked out of the restaurant; walked towards the teenage mobs. Ten minutes later, I returned and, sat down to finish my tasty noodles. There were still some snowballs flying into the window, but died down about ten minutes after. The two girls looked at each other and one teased, “You must be a Chinese spy, you could have been killed by those kids.”

No, I am not a Chinese spy. However, there are two sides of me: on one side, I am quiet, shy, probably as meek as a lamb sometimes; on the other side, I am strong-minded, aggressive, prompt, and persistent. Where did I obtain that contrasting dual characteristic? I am not certain about the answer; however, I would like to give part of the credit to my military training in China.

In China, it is compulsory that all first-year university students participate in, and pass, a two-month military training course before they begin their actual major study. During that two-month period, a student’s daily life mimics that of a new soldier, including learning how to stand at attention and at ease, do parade steps, raise legs at a certain height, crawl forward with orders, practice aiming targets, and shoot rifle guns. At 5:30 every morning, students are woken by a bugle and have twenty minutes to put on a military uniform and army cap (with no hair allowed outside the edge of the cap for girls), make the bed, and fold the quilt in the shape of a piece of bean curd. Students then run downstairs and line up in their designated squads in front of the dormitory building, waiting for the squad leader to give orders to march on to the field to start training.

I was, unfortunately, assigned to be one of the squad leaders, which meant I had to get up half an hour earlier than the others to carry twelve guns to the training field, when it was a day for shooting practice. Everyday, no matter what the weather was like, we first ran one thousand meters, then practiced parade drill, and aimed at targets. Sometimes after long, tedious hours in the sun, there would be students who lost consciousness. I still remember a big guy in our class fainted and tumbled and was teased by his classmates for quite a while.

The most exciting but intimidating part of the training for girls was gun shooting. After practicing aiming with fake guns for about two weeks, we were finally sent to a military base to shoot our first bullet. One squad would crawl down behind a small trench and another squad would run to the other end of the shooting range under the targets to read how many points the person who shoot hit.

I still remember my experience first shooting a real gun. Even after the two-week training period, I could still feel my whole body shaking. I vaguely saw the target somewhere ahead and pulled the trigger with my eyes closed. I felt a strong push against my shoulder that hurt quite a bit, but I was relived, and even proud of my first cartridge.

“Who the hell shot without my order?” the officer shouted.

One second of silence and a voice, “Yifeng did”.

Of course I failed and had to come back to the military base one month after the other students passed and took a second round test. Fortunately, I did pass the second test thanks to the two pairs of glasses I put on (I borrowed one pair from my friend in case I couldn’t see the target clearly).

Earlier this fall, I traveled to Nova Scotia to attend a conference with my colleagues. We found the unique beauty of the sea, characterized by rocks of different shapes and sizes, to be breathtaking. When I jumped among rocks to take pictures, the girls teased me, “You must be trained to do this, Yifeng.” “Yes, I was trained,” I affirmed with pride.