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1981年冬天的一个黄昏,我迎着北风从盐碱荒滩的筑路工地往宿舍走,途中隐隐约约看到指导员右手握着一本16开本杂志。我跳下车直奔指导员,忐忑不安地从他手里借来那本杂志,展开一看是一本崭新的《共产党员》。我惊喜地扔下铁锹,用双手捧起杂志,匆匆翻了一遍,就把她带回充满潮气和寒气的帐篷里阅读起来。当时,我读《共产党员》,并不真正透彻共产党员的含义,仅是为了打发单调、寂寞的时光。当认真读过《共产党员》之后,我才知道共产党员的内涵竟是那样的深广,才知道共产党员的精神竟是那样的伟大。一次,指导员微笑
One evening in the winter of 1981, I went to the hostel to meet the northerly wind from the construction site of salt-water wasteland, and on the way I saw the instructor holding a 16-page magazine in his right hand. I jumped out of the car and went straight to the instructor, uneasy borrowing from his hand the magazine, opened it as a brand new “communist.” I dropped the shovel with surprise, won the magazine with both hands, rolled it over in haste, and took her back to a tent full of moisture and cold to read it. At that time, I read “Communist Party members” and did not really thoroughly understand the meaning of communists. It was only for the purpose of sending out a monotonous and lonely time. After earnestly reading the “Communists”, I learned that the connotation of the Communists was so profound that I learned that the spirit of the Communists was so great. Once, the instructor smiles