It was in Qingdao, China.  I had just recently joined the Chinese Army to support my family; they no longer had to means to support a growing boy like me.  I was only 14, but my younger brothers need to eat as well.  I left so that my brothers could also have a healthy life.  Anyhow, I would be able to earn a decent living while in the army.  Many of my elder brother’s friends returned as rich men, and our village treated them like heroes.  When I returned, I hope that I too can be like one of them: rich, respected, and courageous. 

            I awoke to the crowing of the rooster at the crack of dawn.  Quickly, I leapt out of my bed and changed into my uniform – my sergeant disliked laggards.  I packed all my gear into my bag and within a few minutes, I was fully changed, prepped and ready to go.  Without hesitation, I scrambled into the dining hall for breakfast; the first bowls of rice were usually warm.  I quickly took my food and sat down to eat.  Even though it was only plain rice with a small side of pork, it was better than what I had at home; my family was too poor to afford meat and only ate it on special holidays.  As I ate, I thought about my family.  How were they doing at home?  Were my younger brothers happy?  Were my parents content?  Was my village still intact?

            A piercing bell abruptly interrupted my thoughts: it was the emergency bell!  I wolfed down the rest of my breakfast and sprinted back to my quarters.  There was no time to be wasted.  Duty called, and I was ready to serve.  I picked up my bag, and ran to the training field, lining up in my squadron, just one out of twenty others.  For a moment, I thought it was another drill to prepare us for the real battles, so I chatted with my fellow soldiers to pass time.  However, I noticed the tense and alert posture of the commanders, and how serious they looked.  I knew that this time, it would be a real battle.  Practice time was over.

             Each squad was led to the equipment shed where each person would receive a rifle and a box of ammunition.  We were to follow the commander out to the hills, where we would lay on the grass and shoot at the enemy.  Our squad leader brought us to a weedy hillside, and ordered us not to leave until the enemy surrendered, or they were all dead.  We were in a fight to the death.

            I did not want to shoot nor fight.  I joined the army to earn a decent living for myself, and to let my family survive.   All the training, all the survival activities, they were completely pointless to me.  It was at that moment that I realized war was not fun and games.  Those who returned to our village, they were the lucky ones.  They were the survivors.  They were the ones who hid in the right spots so that they could live to another day.  Our village named them brave for their deeds, and hailed them as heroes.  But those who lost their lives, they were the true heroes.  They were the ones who died serving the country.   They were real men.