"There are sentient beings here who can gather guests from the east, west, south, and north, and the sun, moon, and stars in other places for the New Year." In 2002, a military sister-in-law who was celebrating the New Year in the barracks had a feeling and wrote this couplet. Since then, that eraser has become the eternal throbbing in her heart and the moving story of her pen -
I remember the year of the barracks
■ Yuan Juan
Another big year is approaching, looking at the increasing number of "Chinese red" on the street, my thoughts quickly flowed back to the Spring Festival in 2002. At that time, I had not yet joined the army to come to the team for the New Year, and I was reunited with my lover in the family guest house of the army.
The so-called guest house is actually a "condensed version" of the family home. The courtyard is square and square, with 3 rows and 15 green brick and red tile houses. A room with a door and a window is a small family.
On weekdays, the yard is full and lively. Older children and children run in front of and behind the house, and family members work and chat together in groups of three or five. In the blink of an eye, as most people returned to their hometowns for the New Year, the courtyard gradually became deserted. 45 families, in the end only more than a dozen families remained.
Years, the most likely to make people homesick. Those of us who can't spend the holidays with our loved ones, our homesick thoughts are even more like wild grass.
On this day, Teacher Zhu Hong, the wife of a Shanxi soldier with the highest education in the courtyard and a soldier from Shanxi, knocked on my door.
As soon as she entered the door, she said bluntly: "Although we can't go home and reunite with our relatives, we can be cold and cold in the New Year!" I have an idea, these few who stay behind each make up a little bit of a part, let's have a big reunion year, how? Teacher Zhu Hong's voice had not yet fallen, and Lao Wang and I hurried to knock on the door of this house and knock on the window of that house.
The results were naturally gratifying, and everyone responded. For a while, everyone was busy. The owner goes to the market to wholesale firecrackers, flowers and lanterns, and the west family goes to the store to buy sweets, pastries and dried fruits. I asked Brother Ding, who was responsible for collecting money and keeping accounts and assigning tasks, what should I do, and he said happily: "If you have ink in your stomach, you are responsible for writing a Spring Festival that can express the voice of all of us!" ”
For two consecutive days, I searched my stomach and prepared seven or eight drafts, but none of them were satisfied. There was no way but to ask For Help Brother Ding.
Brother Ding smiled and said, "I've been living here for almost 4 years. Every spring festival, everyone who can go home goes home. Those of us who stayed behind were really deserted. This year is different, we small families come from all over the world, get together for the New Year, like a thriving big family. Inside and outside the courtyard, the lights are colorful, the children are happy and noisy, this is the taste of the Year..."
Listening to Brother Ding's words, my eyes lit up, and a pair of couplets blurted out: "There are lovers here who can gather guests from the east, west, south and north, and the sun, moon, and stars in his hometown for the New Year." Brother Ding patted his thigh and applauded: "That is, in the army, we can live such a year, and we will write it horizontally - 'Barracks family'!" ”
Chinese New Year's Eve morning, I stood in front of the gate of the family guest house in my arms, my daughter, who had just turned one year old, and watched my old king step on a high stool to paste the Spring Festival and hang lanterns. The high stool was moved by Xiao Zhang, a native of Zhangjiakou; the person who supported the stool was Xiao Wang of Hunan; the black characters on the red paper were written by Brother Ding of Inner Mongolia; the paste of the Spring League was boiled by Zhang Feng's diligent daughter-in-law in Anhui; the broom that brushed the paste was tied by The Henan brother Li Quanzhong himself; the big red lanterns hanging high and the color strips fluttering with the wind in the front and back of the house, as well as boxes of firecracker salute flowers, were bought with everyone's share of money. The family guest house has changed the depression of green bricks and gray tiles a few days ago and become full of joy!
After dinner, with the sound of a whistle from Big Brother Ding, we walked out of the courtyard in droves. In the open field in front of the door, men set off firecrackers and children lit fireworks. The earth-shaking sound of "bang" and "pop" and the colorful sky that never sleeps fill everyone's desire for the year.
Crazy enough, we carried sweets and pastries to the army club to sing karaoke. Adults and children in thirty or forty mouths, song after song, we laughed, touched, slap soon red.
From happy to sad to heroic, everyone's emotions are as difficult to calm down as if they are riding a "roller coaster". I can't remember how the party ended, but the "roaring song" of the barracks that night of "we who are soldiers, what is different" has remained in the depths of my mind forever...
Fast forward many years, and the group of people in the family guest house have left the barracks one after another. "East, West, South and North Guests", only me and Zhu Hong are left. Nowadays, we have a fixed house, a private car, and it is no longer difficult to go home for the New Year, but every time the year passes, that warm memory will climb into the heart and light up a new military camp year.
(This article is from the February 4, 2018 edition of the People's Liberation Army Daily, "Military Families," with slight cuts.) ）
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