Carrying Pole Across Mountains and Rivers

In the autumn of 1938, the Japanese army crossed the Hutuo River. The hut of Pingshan porter Zhao Yongtian was burned and his youngest son became critically ill. In exchange for a life-saving injection of penicillin, he took on the most dangerous job in his life - sending an incomprehensible secret letter. No one told him that the specially made hollow pole was not carrying goods from now on, but was the only "transfusion tube" between the Shanxi-Chahar-Hebei and Jizhong base areas. Seven years, more than 300 round trips, and 120 miles of secret transportation lines. Climb three mountains, hide in five strongholds, and avoid three blocked ditches. On a moonless night, you rely on the balls of your feet to find your way, and when you are interrogated, you use your silly smile to save your life. On the most dangerous night, the six of them huddled in the badger's cave, listening to the panting of the military dogs as the day progressed inch by inch. He escorted more than 200 cadres, transporting radio parts, top-secret documents, and life-saving penicillin. Calling him a "living map", the Japanese army offered a reward of 500 yuan for his head. Disciple Shuan Zhu was nineteen years old when he died, with the peace charm he prayed for sewn into his lapel. After the war, he returned to his hometown to work on the farm carrying a polished pole and never mentioned those seven years. Thirty years later, his son dug out a stack of yellowed passes from the hidden compartment of the pole. The old farmer, who had been silent all his life, said: "I'm a picky person, I know the way, and I didn't lose the goods." He is not a soldier, but he is responsible for the life of a base area. This is not an epic of a general, but a porter's bloody spirit forced by troubled times, and the path he made on the blockade with his feet. The road is made by people. The roads are also guarded by people.