Ding Xianguo was born in Chengmagang, Macheng, Hubei. Born in 1909.
At the age of 16, he joined the Red Guards
At the age of 18, he participated in the Jute Uprising
19 years old, he joined the Workers' and Peasants' Red Army
At the age of 21, he joined the Communist Party of China
At the age of 24, he was appointed as the director of the Political Department of the Ninth Red Army Secret Service.
27 At the age of 27, he was appointed as the Director of the Organization Department of the Political Department of the Fourth Red Army. At the age of 28, he was appointed as the Director of the Political Training Office of the 769th Regiment of the 129th Division of the Eighth Route Army. At the age of 31, he was appointed as the Political Commissar of the 772nd Regiment of the 386th Brigade. Served as commander of the 1st Military Division of the Southern Hebei Military Region
At the age of 35, he served as the political commissar of the 13th Brigade and 39th Regiment of the 5th Division of the New Fourth Army
html At the age of 37, he served as the deputy political commissar of the 13th Column and 37th Brigade of the Shanxi-Hebei-Luyu Military Region39-year-old served as the political commissar of the 14th Column and 41st Brigade of the Shanxi-Hebei-Luyu Military Region
At the age of 43 Served as deputy commander of the Volunteer Army Logistics Command
47 years old, served as director and political commissar of the General Logistics Department's office in Chongqing
52 years old, founded the PLA Logistics Engineering College as the first dean and political commissar
55 years old, Yunguichuan major third-line construction officer
59 years old, served as general manager Deputy Minister of the Logistics Department
html At the age of 59, he was appointed as the deputy leader of the third-line construction leading group html At the age of 61, he was appointed as the leader of the Sichuan Ordnance Industry Leading Group for the third-line construction html At the age of 63, he was suspended due to involvement in the "September 13" incidenthtml Died of illness at the age of 93
In 1955, he was awarded the rank of major general . Won: first-class August 1st Medal , second-class independent medal of freedom , and first-class Liberation Medal. First-class Red Star Meritorious Medal of Honor. He was awarded the First Class Medal of Freedom and Independence and the Second Class National Flag Medal by the North Korean government and Chairman Kim Il Sung.
Impressions of my childhood
In my childhood memories, my father was a serious and fierce person.
The most common opportunity to meet him is at the dinner table. "Eating can't stop your mouth!" "What's delicious or not? It's a blessing to eat!" "Eat it! See if you'll die if you eat it!" "Don't leave a grain of rice behind! Eat it clean!" "
He always likes to scold us with a thick Macheng country accent. Sometimes they didn't even raise their eyes to look at us, which made each of us children think we were talking about ourselves and quickly obeyed obediently.
My father is like this.
It wasn’t until the eve of the Cultural Revolution, when he came to pick me up at school for the first time after returning from a meeting in Beijing, that I realized that my father had a very gentle side. It was a starry and moonlit night. When all the boarding students in our Bayi Primary School were lining up to go into the bathrooms of their respective grades to brush their teeth and wash their faces, the teacher took me out and handed me to my father.
Because this general’s father has never come to school, let alone picked me up. When I suddenly saw him in school, I was surprised, happy, and a little scared. Dad stretched out his little finger to me, I squeezed it, and took me away.
He didn't speak, and I didn't dare to speak either. The two of us walked silently on the long campus path. Before we even left the school gate, I felt only fear in my heart. I don’t know why my father came to pick me up on this night, which is neither a festival nor a holiday. Where is he going?
After leaving the school gate, the tall eucalyptus trees on both sides of the road outside the school were straight and dark. Dad stopped and raised his head to look up at the sky. Following his raised head, I also saw the bright starry sky. He pointed to the sky and told me where Big Dipper was, but I couldn't find it. Dad just stood there holding me and watching for a long, long time. When I left again, my father started talking to me. His speech and pace were not fast. I felt very comfortable, no longer afraid, and became happy.
My father took me along the edge of the Third Hospital (the Third Hospital of the Seventh Military Medical University), walked through the stone slope of Futuguan, then passed through the New Market, crossed the road and walked to the compound. Along the way, my father pointed at the buildings hidden under the night and talked about their past and present lives. Most of the time, I didn't listen. I was only immersed in the happiness of my father holding me for such a long time for the first time. middle.
Dad’s voice is still thick and deep, but without the daily sternness and instruction, it sounds really nice.When I got home, my father lifted me up, stood on his bed, and hugged me hard for a long time. I was a little out of breath. Then he let me go and let me sleep, with a kind face.
He woke me up early the next day and carefully pinned a small Chairman Mao badge on my clothes. I found that he also had one on his chest. He also put one in my pocket and said: Bring it to the teacher. I went back to school happily.
I will remember and speculate about the first time my father was alone with me for the rest of my life. What exactly is
? Let this tough guy father become sentimental, and he is still talking to his daughter who doesn't know anything yet.
The ensuing movement made my good father disappear that night, and he returned to seriousness and strictness again. There is also the embarrassment, exhaustion and anxiety caused by the endless criticism.
I was nine years old at the time. My mother asked me, who was not in school, to secretly follow my father all the time to see where he was being imprisoned and where he was being criticized.
I watched my father being criticized again and again, and I cried in rivers and lakes in my heart, but my father's appearance as a general was fixed in my mind, which stopped my tears from overflowing.
The harsh criticism made my father's health deteriorate, and my mother was also facing isolation and criticism. My mother took the time to teach me how to measure blood pressure, count pulse, and give injections, and allowed me to monitor my father's physical condition every day.
For a period of time, my father's blood pressure was very low, and his pulse was only around 50. He was also accompanied by premature contractions and conduction block . In severe cases, the heart rate is only 30 or 40 beats. I wrote down the measurement data every time and went to the doctor repeatedly, hoping to ask the doctor to intervene to prevent my father from being dragged out to be criticized again.
Dad finally got a chance to rest at home (Dad was determined not to be hospitalized, saying that it was safer at home). I stay with my father every day and never dare to leave.
At this time, my father was unable to say anything to me. He just kept doing the same thing: putting his hand on my head and closing his eyes. I sat on the floor next to his recliner, keeping it as low as possible to serve as his comfortable armrest.
Within two days of the good days, almost a whole team of leaders came to my house and wanted to talk to Dad. Dad sent me to move the stools at the dining table in the outhouse for them to sit down and then left. I didn't feel relieved, so I hid outside the door and eavesdropped.
They are here to ask Dad to go out for a meeting and ask Dad to hand over power immediately.
For the first time, I heard my father’s weak voice that was almost pleading: This is not right, this is not right.
The voices of the people in the room were getting louder and louder. They were shouting and a group attack.
I could tell who was the main attacker. I was all familiar with the voices of those uncles. The hatred in my heart began to swell to the point that it made me extremely painful. For a long time, I didn't hear my father's voice. I was worried that something would happen to my father, whose heart was beating wildly. Just when I didn't know what to do, I suddenly heard my father yell: If you want me to hand over power, let the Party Central Committee Chairman Mao speaks! Like a leopard, I heard the order and ran into the room, crying, cursing, beating and kicking: You are all enemies, you are anti-Chairman Mao, get out of here! roll! roll!
I don’t remember whether my father tried to dissuade me. Anyway, I kicked them all out, leaving me with disheveled hair and tears on my face.
Dad awkwardly helped me with my hair, touched the face who slapped me and said: Like my daughter. Just this sentence, at that moment, I felt like I was a hero.
My father loves me very much, and I also love him very much. It seems that it started from that time.
Later, the military movement was stopped and the situation became much more stable. Dad started to be busy day and night again. The task of resisting U.S. aggression and aiding Vietnam was extremely heavy, but there were still factionalism and armed fighting in the factory. Dad’s eyebrows were knitted together, as if he was always thinking about something, and we were not in his eyes at all. My mother was also anxious about getting angry, worried that my father's heart would not be able to bear it, so she could only treat him with Chinese herbal medicine and dietary therapy as much as possible.
I took over some of the tasks my mother gave me, such as cutting up the Korean ginseng my mother brought back from North Korea every night, or stewing it with eggs or lean pork in a cup, and heating it on the coal stove. Wait for dad to come home, even if it’s midnight or early in the morning.Regardless of my parents’ objections, I stubbornly waited for my father to eat.
My fourth brother raised pigeons, so I stewed pigeons or pigeon egg soup; when I got Panax notoginseng and Gastrodia elata, I paired Panax notoginseng with Salvia ; Gastrodia with wolfberry. The Tibetan Military Region brought tsampa butter, and I learned how to make it for my father as a midnight snack. Once when I was making ginger tea chopped dried turmeric , I also chopped my fingers. Seeing how distressed my parents were, it made me feel that I was gloriously injured.
When I was fourteen years old, my days with my father had to end. My fourth brother and I were forced to leave home and go back to our hometown in Macheng to study, and then went to the countryside. My father felt even more guilty and distressed. He began to write me letters. Although he wrote me letters intermittently, I could receive his messages. The handwritten letter written during the lengthy suspension review has become an exclusive favorite. Dad's letters are usually one page, a few sentences, and occasionally two pages, but they are full of encouragement and instruction, and there is no worry or exhortation like my mother's. This gives me endless confidence and expectations. Let me face everything with courage and courage, without crying or giving up.
Dad said: Just in front of us, countless heroes and martyrs have fallen. They have not seen today’s New China and socialism. It doesn’t matter if we are suffering now! Believe in Chairman Mao and believe in the Party!
Dad also said: Don’t think of yourself as a charming lady, but look at how the fellow villagers around you live and get involved with them. They will like you and help you. If you have knowledge and culture, you must learn to help them, even if you are repaying their kindness for supporting the revolution for us.
I believe in Dad! Faced with the adversity of having my applications for joining the Party rejected several times and the recruitment of students and workers always being blocked, I still grew up with sunshine in my heart and worked hard to be a top person and a model student as my father said.
My father’s love for me is always special
The summer when I was thirty-three years old, I was going to have a baby. On the day I returned to my parents' home, I saw my father vacating his room and letting me live there, and I moved into the guest room. He said to me very seriously and considerately: This room is cool and has air conditioning. Don't heat you and the doll.
Air conditioning at that time was a treasure, very few. The compound is equipped with only a Mitsubishi high-power air conditioner for the family. Parents' rooms and living room can all enjoy the coolness. The whole family, young and old, and I couldn't resist my father's insistence, so we had no choice but to follow him.
Dad happily waits for the baby to be born every day and asks questions several times a day. When we found out that the baby didn't have a penis on the B-ultrasound, we thought about it for a few days and proudly announced to us: The baby's name has been decided, and it will be called Osmanthus fragrans. He also told us the origin of the name: Osmanthus fragrans in August The fragrance spread all over the place. As they talked and sang, the whole family joined in. A joyful and festive atmosphere filled Dad’s General Building every day.
The baby was born by caesarean section . It was a boy. The father was a little disappointed: Alas, this name is no longer suitable. But this did not affect his interest in the doll at all. When the baby was asleep, he would rock a big cattail fan made by cutting down the leaves of the palmetto in the garden, and fan the baby with a whirring sound; when the baby was awake, he would pick up the baby, one on the left and one on the right. "Dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong". His face was full of kindness again. During that time, I was surprised, why couldn't I find any memory of him from my childhood?
Really, even talking to me seems to be a whisper, delicate, gentle and patient. There are no orders, it is all consultation.
Later on, my family leave was often refreshed by my father’s yelling and scolding. Not to us, but to the social ethos and someone or something that he increasingly resented. The upright and majestic look of swallowing mountains and rivers can be seen again.
Faced with this and that phenomenon caused by the military revolution in the compound, he cursed. Faced with the chaos in society where the dregs appeared and were reported to the public, he scolded his mother. After
finished cursing, he did not forget to say a few stern words to us, including the small cadres and soldiers who served him around him: You can't do this, you can't do that... Dad insisted on using his lifelong knowledge of being a communist and a soldier to educate those who came after him. However, he did not know that the general environment had changed, and the context of his uprightness had also changed.
Dad is getting older, and he no longer has the strength to carry loads of manure and carefully water his vegetable garden. He still likes to sit on the wicker chair that he has tied countless times, accepting the sunlight or the haze. , watching his children and grandchildren running in and out has become what he does every day.
"What are you going to do when you grow up?" Dialogue with the dolls has become a themed game between him and them. Hold this doll in your arms today and ask, and hold that doll in your arms tomorrow and ask.
The answers of the girls often changed, but none of them said they wanted to be soldiers when they grow up. Until one day, the fourth brother's son, who had just entered elementary school, came back from Wuhan for the summer vacation and firmly answered him: When he grows up, he wants to be a general! It makes him extremely happy. Tell this, tell that: Finally there is someone to take over!
Yes, there were about ten members of the family who were soldiers, but they were all forced to take off their military uniforms. None of them became professional soldiers, which made my father sad. Although he never said it. That year, when my son, who was under 5 years old, went back and drove to the market with his grandfather, his grandfather asked again: What will you do when you grow up? The son made a surprising statement: Grandpa, I will be the president of the United States and you will be a five-star general.
As soon as my father came home, he caught me and asked: Did you teach me? Did you teach it? To be honest, it was really not taught by me. I was surprised too.
Seeing the excitement overflowing from my father's heart, I felt a faint pain in my heart. I could guess what he was thinking.
He is worried about the future of us and the children, and also worried about the career that he has been fighting for his whole life.
After the old father bid farewell to his spiritual totem and his extremely revered Chairman Mao, Premier Zhou, Xu Shuai, and Liu Shuai with tears streaming down his face, he often fell into frame after frame of memories and indulged in the past. He began to complete his memoirs with the help of his secretary. He also began to tell his brothers about the bloody war past and his own interpretation and understanding of those experiences and characters. During his narration, he often raised his voice involuntarily, with passion and pathos. It was a rare sound that was engraved in my heart.
Dad’s story shocked me? Or does it make me more respectful? They all have it. That is the succession of a generation of founding fathers. I want to keep all these things about my father without delay. I quickly asked my wife to buy the video recorder from Japan, set it up, and record this extraordinary video for my father. Facing the camera, my father started talking about his birth, murmuring as if talking to his comrades in heaven. He was half-lying on the recliner he had repaired countless times.
At this time, I didn't dare to speak or move, for fear of disturbing his mood.
I think he can leave whatever image he wants to leave behind. The real thing is always there when it is not intentional. For several days in a row, he kept narrating in this mood.
I am still a little sad. The earth-shattering stories of various stages of life and blood that my father and his comrades went through are just finished without the ups and downs. Dad is so calm.
It's a pity that the secretary said that my father's memoirs were handed over to Chengdu Military Region in accordance with the instructions of his superiors, and later disappeared. As for the second brother, he also entrusted these dozen video tapes to someone to help edit and organize them. With the unexpected death of the second brother, there is no trace of them. No matter, no matter what, dad’s 93 years of vigor, ups and downs, voice and smile are all stored in my bones and blood, flowing day and night, extending, without end.
daughter Yuping
June 19, 2022 Father’s Day in Nanjing
