Peng: The posts in the cloud are a bunch of pulls.

The northwest border between China and India.

There is a high mountain.

The mountain peaks are covered with snow.

Connect with the sky

Clouds circled around the mountain.

A grotesque jagged rock

There are four seasons in a day.

But it is not obvious here in spring, summer, autumn and winter.

Only the bright red flag on our post.

Fluttering in the wind, especially bright.

Yunzhong Post Naidui La

Write the hardships of soldiers in the horizon.

"The first whistle in the southwest" is happiness and glory.

Victory in Three Wars is an immortal classic of plateau combat.

Trace the history of the post

It can be traced back to the summer of 1965.

Anti-secession and anti-aggression

The border guards set foot on the snowy plateau on the border.

The facilities here are very simple, very simple.

Only gun emplacements, sentries, tunnels and bunkers.

Cliff Grottoes are our dormitories.

Bintarin is our paradise.

Jiang Wei soldiers have recommended it.

Carry forward the "old Tibetan spirit"

"Being with the motherland" is our firm oath.

"Living in water curtain cave in summer and Crystal Palace in winter"

Take pleasure in ...

This is a couplet engraved in my heart that will never fade.

The border between China and India.

Crossing snow-capped mountains, rivers and lakes

Through forests and vast snowfields

The observation posts of the two countries are very close, very close.

The straight line distance is only fifty meters.

Separated by barbed wire.

The Indian post is below.

Our post is above.

There is an "eye of the sky" in the dark castle.

"Clairvoyance" keeps sending back each other's movements.

Mountain rat's voice was clearly heard.

Clearly see the nervous faces of foreign soldiers.

Our sentry is very high, very high.

Reach out and touch the blue sky overhead.

White clouds lingered under our post.

The wind kept howling.

The rain collided in the sparks of lightning and thunder.

Inextricably linked, tick-tock.

As if in the interpretation of banana tears.

Look around.

Only the eagle flies at the foot of the mountain.

early morning

We welcome the first sunshine of our motherland.

night

The stars winked at me.

Holding a steel gun in his hand

Accompanied by the round and big moon

It's a long way up the mountain.

The wind swept over the mud-rock highway.

Rolling yellow dust, turning over

The rain crossed the muddy path.

Leave the water in the ditch

The flash flood cut the road into several sections.

People crossed the winding cliff path.

You can't see the edge under the cliff at a glance.

There is always inexplicable panic in my heart.

Wild flowers all over the mountains

Quietly strive for beauty

Intense ultraviolet radiation

Skin burns and stings

Change a delicate face in a few days.

There are pockmarked faces.

The idea of the post is very fragrant.

Taste of home

Always taste it in your dreams

The beauty of his hometown

Always play it in your mind like a movie

Blessing of relatives who travel through time and space

Always ringing in my ears

Letters from Hongyan-Letters from afar

Feel the romance of love

It conveys hope and strength.

I like to stand by the map engraved with "My motherland is in my heart"

Rain or sunny, snow or frost

The motherland has me.

Mountains and rivers are innocent.

(Peng1995165438+10/6 at Naiduila Post)