Chapter 15: The Telegraph from the Central Office

The mountains of Guizhou lay silent in the thick fog and night, as if unchanged since time immemorial. After the brutal breakout battle at Tongdao City, this force of over twelve hundred men, like a wounded giant beast, had been struggling for days through the towering peaks of southeastern Guizhou. The heavy wheels of the supply wagons groaned monotonously as they rolled over the slick mountain paths, mingling with the heavy breaths of the stretcher-bearers and the occasional snorts of the mules. Wang Lin walked amid the middle of the column, his mind sinking deep into the silent three-dimensional map unfolding in his thoughts—ghostly blue points of hostile forces flickering like bone maggots in the shadows of the surrounding mountains, a stark reminder of the fragility and peril of this vast force moving stealthily through enemy territory.

The camp was set in a wind-sheltered mountain hollow. Inside the large medical tent, the dim glow of oil lamps struggled to penetrate the dense fog. Wang Lin lifted the flap and entered; the familiar mix of herbs, sweat, and blood assaulted his senses. Political Commissar Cheng Cuilin leaned half-reclining on a stretcher, still pale-faced, but his eyes burned with an almost obsessive fire. Beside him, Division Commander Chen Shuxiang rested with eyes closed, his chest rising and falling gently, jaw clenched tightly in alert vigilance. Zhong Guangbang carefully placed the heavily wrapped radio—an invaluable prize captured from the Guangxi Corps headquarters—in a dry spot. The anxious hum of the hand-cranked generator never truly ceased, even at rest.

“Still… no response?” Wang Lin asked in a low, weary voice. Since departing Tongdao City, this question had haunted him every night at camp.

Commissar Cheng’s gaze never left the cold iron box, his fingers absently stroking the worn edges of the cipher book. His voice was hoarse but resolute: “The frequencies… still the same few. The call signs… repeated again and again. The Central Command and Corps headquarters must have changed their codes and bands… but this is our only lead.” He coughed twice, wincing as the pain stirred his wounds, brow furrowed. “We can’t stop… what if… what if some radio operator left behind still remembers the old codes? What if Central is monitoring all the abandoned channels?” His eyes held a desperate determination, as if the continuous broadcast was his life pounding on a tightly shut celestial gate.

Chen Shuxiang slowly opened his eyes, scanned Wang Lin, and finally fixed his gaze on Cheng’s pale face. He barely nodded and rasped out two words: “…continue.”

The soldier turning the generator’s crank had muscles knotted and sweat soaking his thin shirt. Click… click-click… click—click-click-click… That monotonous, relentless signal, infused with desperate hope, once again pierced the tent, blending into the boundless night and fog of southeastern Guizhou.

Southeastern Guizhou, Central Red Army detachment.

Inside the communications chamber, the air was heavy and the oil lamps dim. Radio operator Xiao Liu rubbed his aching temples and switched to a long-silent, nearly forgotten backup frequency. He listened routinely; only static crackled in his headphones. For months, this channel belonging to the 34th Division had been as lifeless as a grave. As he prepared to switch to the next frequency, a faint but eerily familiar rhythm—like a delicate thread—intruded upon his eardrum! Xiao Liu froze abruptly, holding his breath, twisting the volume knob to the maximum, his whole body tense.

Click… click-click… click—click-click-click… click-click—click… click-click… click—click-click…

Weak, intermittent, as if about to be swallowed by static at any moment, but that unique rhythm—the deeply ingrained urgent call of “Spark!”

“Station… Station chief!” Xiao Liu’s voice cracked with shock and excitement, tears threatening. “Listen! The 34th Division! ‘Spark’! The signal is very weak… but… it’s definitely it! They’re calling!”

The station chief, bent over sorting messages, sprang forward and snatched the headphones. Concentrating, his fatigued face instantly transformed into one of incredulous joy, fingers trembling with excitement. “Quick! Record everything! Top priority! Every word! Immediately! Forward to headquarters! Hurry! Alert cryptographic teams to prepare the highest-level cipher books for comparison! Move!”

The once silent chamber ignited instantly. Suppressed exclamations, hurried footsteps, fluttering papers. That almost overlooked faint spark was finally captured.

Central headquarters, brightly lit.

The Commander-in-Chief clutched the first brief identification message just translated by the cryptographic staff, steadying the thin sheet in his broad palm, eyes sharp as a blade as he read each word repeatedly. The Vice Chairman stood nearby, his gaze behind glasses piercing, fingers tapping the table unconsciously. “Location? Southeastern Guizhou… the mountains bordering Liping and Jinping? Call signs, old identification codes… all matched? Confirmed the sender is Comrade Cheng Cuilin’s operator?”

“Confirmed! Location roughly pinpointed! The operating style is highly consistent! The cryptographic department repeatedly cross-checked the samples from old cipher books!” The staff officer’s voice brimmed with restrained excitement. “The signal is extremely faint, intermittent, clearly conditions are desperate! They… they really are still out there!”

The Commander-in-Chief took a deep breath, eyes blazing with sharp resolve, slamming the table hard: “Excellent! A true ‘Spark’! After the bloody battle at the Xiang River, the 34th Division held the rear, all soldiers willing to fight to the death… I never imagined—never imagined—that this firebrand would rekindle deep in Guizhou’s mountains! Immediately activate the highest-level new cipher and reply: ‘Spark’ received! Identity preliminarily confirmed! Please report your situation in detail! Urgent!”

Deep in Guizhou’s mountains, inside the temporary radio tent.

Cheng Cuilin was near collapse, sweat soaking his clothes, every press of the telegraph key seeming to drain the last ounce of his strength. Suddenly, his gaunt fingers clutched the headphones tightly, his body jolted violently. His eyes burst with a light bright enough to illuminate the entire tent—an amalgam of ecstasy and disbelief.

“They’ve responded! Central Command… Central Command has responded! Received… received ‘Spark’! They want… want a detailed report!” His hoarse, tearful voice shook so profoundly he could barely hold the pen.

The air inside the tent froze, then was overwhelmed by immense joy. Wang Lin, Wang Guangdao, and Zhong Guangbang clenched their fists almost simultaneously. Chen Shuxiang’s eyes snapped open; he struggled to sit up but was gently pressed down by Zhong Guangbang. Yet the light blazing in the commander’s eyes was brighter than ever.

“I’ll dictate! Old Wang, record!” Cheng Cuilin forced himself, his eyes flashing with the sharp gravity unique to a political commissar. “Since losing contact at Wentang on the Xiang River, our main force fought desperately at Xinwei, Simaqiao, suffering near-total casualties… Division Commander Chen Shuxiang was severely wounded and captured… I too was gravely injured and near death… Fortunately, Captain Wang Lin of the 102nd Regiment, 3rd Battalion—originally reported killed in memory fragments but replaced by the ‘soul transference’ Wang Lin—found me amidst mountains of corpses and rivers of blood, hiding me with a civilian healer… Later, he single-handedly rescued over seventy comrades, led the unit through Stone Pond Town to free over a hundred prisoners, captured Dao County by stratagem, and rescued Commander Chen… reorganized the remnants, integrated converted prisoners, enlisted local civilians… after many battles, reformed into Combat Battalion (580) and Supply Battalion (580), totaling about 1,200 men… now under Wang Lin’s actual command… Chen and I are still recovering… details to be reported in person…”

Cheng’s voice was low and clear, compressing the hellish struggle and desperate resurgence of months into cold code. Exhausted, he finished. Chen Shuxiang rasped a few critical battle updates and praised Wang Lin’s command, which Cheng also recorded. Finally, Cheng personally drafted a concise report on the current unit structure, key personnel (Wang Lin, Wang Guangdao, Zhong Guangbang, etc.), and plans to advance westward.

The two long messages, heavy with blood, fire, despair, and rebirth, accompanied by the generator’s heavy hum, once again struggled to pierce the mountain fog and fly to Central Command.

Central headquarters, Military Commission office.

The oil lamp cast the shadows of core leaders on the rough earthen walls. The Commander-in-Chief and Vice Chairman carefully read the complete report pieced together from the two messages. Silence filled the tent, only the rustle of turning pages.

“Crawled out from piles of corpses at Wentang… started with seventy men… rescued at Stone Pond… took Dao County… crossed Xiang River again… ambushed elite Guangxi troops… bloody battle at Tongdao… integrated and transformed… twelve hundred men…” The Commander-in-Chief murmured key points with deep awe. “A miracle! A true miracle! Chen Shuxiang, Cheng Cuilin… incredibly lucky! This Wang Lin… remarkable!”

The Vice Chairman pushed up his glasses, his gaze grave and pragmatic: “The situation is clear. The 34th Division’s main force is indeed nearly destroyed; now about twelve hundred remain, tempered by fire and blood but composition is complex (including many converted prisoners and enlisted civilians), and comrades Chen and Cheng remain seriously wounded. The urgent task is to ensure their safe return and rebuilding.”

The Commander-in-Chief pondered briefly, scanning the group: “The 34th Division fought valiantly to cover the main force’s river crossing at the Xiang River, earning glorious merits. We will preserve the unit’s designation in their honor. However, the current force, though descended from the 34th Division’s core, no longer has the scale or composition to function as a division. Retaining the name honors the fallen, but the unit needs a new, more realistic structure for future combat and development. The Red Fifth Corps has just been reorganized, directly commanding three regiments. We will add another regiment for them: an independent regiment.”

The Vice Chairman nodded: “Agreed. This force was raised from near annihilation by Comrade Wang Lin, who has earned outstanding merits. Recommend awarding him a personal first-class merit medal and the 102nd Regiment, 3rd Battalion a collective first-class merit! The unit will be reorganized as the ‘Independent Regiment of the Chinese Workers’ and Peasants’ Red Army Fifth Corps.’ Appoint Wang Lin as regiment commander! He was already a battalion commander; promotion to regiment commander is fitting!”

“What about the structure? Twelve hundred men is thin for a regiment, and the composition is complex; we urgently need to strengthen the cadre,” someone suggested.

“Exactly!” The Commander-in-Chief interjected clearly. “To bolster strength, speed integration, and form a reliable fighting force, immediately dispatch three hundred battle-hardened veterans and one hundred politically steadfast, experienced squad and platoon leaders from the Central Column to Huangping! They will merge and reinforce Wang Lin’s unit, a reward from Central to facilitate his organization. Hope another formidable warrior emerges from our ranks. Comrades Cheng and Chen are severely wounded, requiring long-term rest and not fit for travel. Order the Fifth Corps to send the best troops to escort Cheng and Chen to Central Command for recuperation after the Independent Regiment reaches Huangping. Appoint Wang Guangdao as political commissar of the Independent Regiment and Zhong Guangbang as regimental chief of staff (director of general affairs). These three will form the Independent Regiment’s party committee. Other regiment, battalion, and company-level cadres will be nominated by Wang Lin and submitted to the Fifth Corps party committee for approval!”

“Agreed!”

“Agreed!”

“Done!”

The resolution was promptly enacted. The dispatch, bearing the Military Commission’s care, trust, and clear directives, once more flew toward the deep mountains of southeastern Guizhou:

“To ‘Spark’ 34th Division Wang Lin Unit:

Received your heroic deeds with profound admiration! Comrades Chen and Cheng are safe, much comfort to the whole army!

1. Award Comrade Wang Lin personal first-class merit! Award the 102nd Regiment, 3rd Battalion collective first-class merit!

2. To strengthen forces, Central immediately dispatches three hundred veterans and one hundred cadres. Trustworthy comrades will lead them day and night to Huangping to merge with your unit!

3. Unit reorganized as ‘Independent Regiment of the Chinese Workers’ and Peasants’ Red Army Fifth Corps!’ Appoint Wang Lin regiment commander!

4. Comrades Chen and Cheng require long-term rest. Upon arrival in Jianhe, Fifth Corps will dispatch elite troops to escort them to Central!

5. Appoint Wang Guangdao political commissar of the Independent Regiment! Zhong Guangbang regimental chief of staff! Together with Wang Lin, they form the Independent Regiment’s party committee. Other cadres nominated by Wang Lin and submitted to the Military Corps for approval!

6. Unit to proceed to Jianhe for reorganization! Fifth Corps commander Comrade Dong has dispatched troops to receive them!

7. Activate new liaison cipher (procedure attached). Proceed with utmost secrecy and speed to preserve strength! Central and the entire army eagerly await your return! Details to be reported in person!”

Deep in Guizhou’s mountains, inside the temporary radio tent.

As Cheng Cuilin tremulously translated each heavy word of Central’s dispatch, silence engulfed the tent. Then a tremendous warmth swept through every soul, mingling honor, responsibility, and belonging. No cheers, only heavy breaths, reddened eyes, and tightly grasped hands.

“It’s done… finally… done!” Cheng leaned back on the stretcher, eyes closed, tears silently streaming down his cheeks. Months of pressure, near-death despair, and solitary struggle transformed into a burning torrent. The 34th Division’s designation was preserved—the highest solace for fallen soldiers.

Chen Shuxiang clenched his fists, chest heaving violently, hoarsely uttering two words: “…Huangping!” He knew he could finally entrust this blood-reborn force to the young man who had wrought such a miracle.

Wang Lin took the dispatch, his gaze lingering long on words like “Independent Regiment Commander,” “personal first-class merit,” “collective first-class merit,” “cadre nomination,” and “merged reorganization.” Central’s trust, recognition, and practical support were like an anchor. The burden on his shoulders grew heavier, but the path ahead had never been clearer. He folded the dispatch and spoke gravely to Wang Guangdao and Zhong Guangbang, “Inform the troops: rest complete, depart immediately! Destination—”

He strode out of the tent; the cold mountain breeze carried the scent of hope. He spread the 3D map in his mind, finger resolutely pointing westward through the layers of mountains, settling on the light firmly locked in his consciousness.

Huangping.

The path home had never been clearer. That tightly shut celestial gate was finally opened by an unyielding spark. The seed of the Red 34th Division, under the banner of the Fifth Corps Independent Regiment and fortified by Central’s steel backbone, was destined to merge once more into the relentless torrent of the advancing army.