An Jing, the former vice chairman of the Federation of Literary and Art Circles of the Xinjiang Construction Corps, wrote such a poem - the song of the Corps people.
Without a military uniform or rank, the character of a soldier has never changed. He endures hardships and contributes sweetness, leaving convenience and taking away difficulties. / The corps is as big as Xinjiang is, / The corps is as wide as the wilderness is, / Soldiers eat food and the corps pays rations, / Who has ever seen such a corps in the world?
Without military expenses, we will never be demobilized. / The responsibilities of soldiers have never changed. / Build a paradise and give it to the people, / Change the place and start all over again. / The corps is as long as the border is, / The corps is as wide as the country is wide, / One squad has been stationed for decades, / Who has ever seen such a corps in the world?
As I got on the car leaving, I looked back at the figure of the Junken people waving goodbye. I am looking for my jumping soul, and from their rough hands, I understand - it turns out that the rainbow rises from their feet.
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