Ocean of Words by Ha Jin

eventually.”
    “What list?” I stopped.
    “I don’t know exactly. Anyway, we two cannot handle him. He’s too big for us. As a matter of fact, I have to call Regimental Commissar Feng Zhi and report on the wholething. We shouldn’t do anything before hearing from the Regimental Political Department.”
    This was entirely new to me. I had never thought Dragon Head was so important that some secret eyes kept him under surveillance. That morning Diao called the regimental commissar and was told to wait for a decision.
    The order came after lunch. When Scribe Niu Hsi was cutting my hair in the middle of the yard, Commissar Diao came in and told me, “Old Gao, I just received a call from Commissar Feng. He told us to be quiet, as if nothing had happened.”
    “All right, I’ll be as quiet as a deaf-mute,” I said, keeping my head low for Niu Hsi to shave the hair on my nape. I felt Diao looked rather unnatural, perhaps because of what he had divulged to me the night before.
    “I’ve got your word, Old Gao. So the case’s dropped now.” He was about to leave.
    “Hold on,” I called him, and he turned back. “Old Diao, from now on, I don’t want to have anything to do with Dragon Head. I cannot endure him, and I may wind up calling him names and making a scene. So please deal with him yourself.”
    “That’s not a bad idea — I mean, to avoid clashes. He’s not so difficult to persuade. Fine, from now on I’ll stroke the dragon’s whiskers.”
    A week later, we all moved into our new barracks, and for the rest of the year I didn’t see Dragon Head again. It seemed that I had indeed washed my hands of whatever he did.
3
    Because the Chinese and Russian governments had started to negotiate, the situation at the border was much less intense than it had been the previous year. Except for threedays’ combat readiness in early March, it was rather peaceful throughout the winter. We spent most of the time carrying out drills and criticizing Lin Biao, who had plotted to assassinate Chairman Mao. It seemed the Russians had changed their minds and would not invade our country anymore. Over seventy of our older soldiers were demobilized in January. By now we had completely dissolved our contact with Dragon Head and his men. Even Commissar Diao no longer believed that we might need the militia as foot soldiers to defend our cannon emplacement.
    When spring arrived, I gave orders that each battery must open up wasteland as much as it could and sow soybeans and vegetables. That was the way to improve our food quality. Soybeans were vital, for out of them you can make oil, tofu, and soy milk. The next step was to raise pigs; every battery had to get thirty piglets. I told the soldiers, “Now we must learn not only how to fight but also how to live.”
    Dragon Head had not changed a bit. His men would still ride to the Wusuli River to keep watch on the Russians. Very often, when hoeing in the fields, we could hear gunshots — they never stopped practicing. Because we lived in our own barracks, we had no dealings with them. I ordered my men not to be mixed up with the militia without my or Commissar Diao’s permission.
    One summer afternoon we were planting cabbages near our barracks. As I was fetching water from a ditch with a pair of buckets, an explosion thundered in the north. Then some shells landed randomly, and numerous dark smoke pillars rose in the woods and in the fields. Large fireballs bounced along on the plain. One shell whistled by over our heads and exploded two hundred meters away in a valley. This is war. The Russians are bombarding us. I dropped the buckets and ran back to the barracks.
    Orderly Liu blew the bugle, and all our men dashed to thecannons. But I had no idea what orders I should give next. I called the Regimental Headquarters, and they didn’t know what was going on either. “What am I supposed to do? Wait to be shelled in the barracks?” I yelled at the staff officer on the