Free Ocean of Words by Ha Jin Page A

won’t hold us back.” He drank up the whole bowl, then looked at me with his bloodred eyes. “We set out tonight … and drive … drive the Russian Tartars down … down into the Arctic Ocean. Give us orders, Com-Commander Gao.”
    “Dragon Head, you need a rest.”
    “No.” He held out his bowl again, and Wang Si refilled it. “All the northern land, from Sakhalin … to Mo-Mongolia, is ours. The Russians took it … from us. We must take it back! Screw their ancestors, they killed my … my gre-great-grandpa in Vladivostok. He was … doing business there — ”
    “You need some sleep, Dragon Head,” I said. “Wang Si and you, Ma Ding, take him home and put him into bed.”
    “It’s Spring Festival,” he mumbled. “I’m happy, ha-ppy —” His men supported him away.
    After having told Niu Hsi to take care of the banquet, I left for the Third Battery. It was snowing outside, and the wind had slacked off. Firecrackers sputtered here and there in the sky; the air was filled with the smell of gunpowder. Every chimney was puffing out sparking smoke. The merry cries of children were drifting about, reminding me of home. Guihua must be making dumplings now, and Hong and Tiger must be following the dancing processions in the streets. When the dinner’s ready at midnight, they’ll set a seat for me and place an extra pair of chopsticks on the table …
    Later I heard that Dragon Head’s great-grandfather had indeed died in Vladivostok. It was said that he had been a very handsome man, wearing a long, glossy braid. When the Russians took the city, they set about seizing women everywhere. Dragon Head’s great-grandfather was captured because he looked so beautiful that the Russians mistook him for a woman. They brought him to their billet, but when they groped between his thighs, they felt something there, so they thrust a sword into his throat. This must have been the reason why Dragon Head would not live with the Russians under the same sky.
    We had a good Spring Festival, and all the men felt refreshed. After the holiday period, we could sleep again in our underclothes. But we could not relax our vigilance, because it was still winter, the season when the Russians’ armored vehicles could cross the frozen river. With the intention of maintaining our combat effectiveness, we decided to have an emergency muster on the last Wednesday night of February.
    In fact, this was the first night action we had ever taken at Guanmen. At eleven o’clock sharp, Orderly Liu Bing blew the bugle in the sleeping village. All the battery leaders had been informed in advance, but they had to order their men to act as if a battle had broken out at the front. No light was allowed; everything had to be done in the dark, because the Russians could locate our position and shell us if they saw a light. In no time, the tranquil night was teeming with the noises of dogs, footsteps, horses, orders, and starting trucks. A few chimneys began spouting smoke — the cooks of each battery were heating water, with which the drivers would start the frozen vehicles. I set off for the bank of the Husha Brook, beyond the western end of the village, where we had planned to assemble the three batteries.
    Not until half an hour later did all of the three batteries arrive.Without lights on, a few trucks were still nosing about like whales on the surface of a white ocean. The long barrels of the cannons all pointed to the northeastern sky. Some artillerymen even went about digging pits to set in the spades. “Stop digging!” I shouted at them. They didn’t know this was just a drill.
    The battery commanders all came over and reported to me and Commissar Diao. Although we both thought it was not too bad for the entire battalion to pull out in half an hour in such severe weather, neither Diao nor I was satisfied, because according to the requirement we should be able to complete the action in twenty-five minutes. I told the leaders to