Artist's commentary
Field Training
In March 1987, during my fourth year at the military academy, I was sent to the Infantry School in Fengshan to undergo a 16-week summer training program.
Aside from the initial two weeks—during which I was assigned to dig up mango trees to assist with camp renovations—the core curriculum consisted of training in five fundamental combat skills, as well as tactical training for platoon and company-level officers.
Of these subjects, "Field Instruction" accounted for more than half of the total coursework. We would often assemble and set out immediately after breakfast, trekking for two or three hours to reach our designated training site; it was typically not until the moon hung high over the willow branches that we would drag our weary bodies back to the barracks to rest.
Every so often, we would even spend the night sleeping outdoors—on school corridors, in temples, or amidst cemeteries. Our footprints were left everywhere: on "Pioneer Road" behind the Infantry School, on Heights 612 and 714, and even across the surrounding townships of Dashu, Daliao, Renwu, and Niaosong.
The most indelible memory of all, however, remains "Camel Mountain," located right at the border between Xiaogang and Linyuan.
On one particular occasion, after marching from the Infantry School to that site, we paused at noon to eat our boxed lunches. What should have been a serene scene—offering picturesque views of the mountains and water—turned out to be a nightmare: the entire hillside was swarming with flies. The incessant buzzing in our ears was inescapable; no matter how vigorously we waved them away, they would simply return. If we let our guard down for even a moment, we risked swallowing them right along with our food. It was a truly repulsive and daunting experience—one that made it utterly impossible to stomach our meal. Though more than forty years have passed since that day, that vivid scene remains as clear in my mind as if it happened yesterday.
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