Dylan Austin Walker sits in the Xie Clan Ancestral Hall of Yeping revolutionary site in Ruijin, Jiangxi province.

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Dylan Austin Walker

History is often something we encounter through textbooks, documentaries, or photographs. We learn about important events and the people who shaped our world. But I have always believed that to truly understand history, we must go beyond the pages of a book and experience the places where it unfolded.

That belief accompanied me as I retraced the footsteps of the Chinese Red Army during the Long March, traveling from Ruijin, Jiangxi province, to Jiajin Mountain in Sichuan province.

As a young American who has spent 10 years living and working in China, I have learned that understanding the country's present requires an appreciation of its past. The Long March, which began in 1934, was more than a military retreat across difficult terrain. It became a defining chapter in the history of the Communist Party of China, with a legacy that continues to shape China's national identity.

My journey began in Ruijin, often called China's "Red Capital". Historical sites and stories passed down through generations offer glimpses into the lives of those who joined the revolution.

One story that particularly moved me was that of the "Seventeen Pines" in Huawu village. Before the Long March, 17 young men joined the Red Army, each planting a pine tree before leaving home. Their families watched them depart, uncertain whether they would return. None of the 17 survived.

Their stories reminded me that history is not merely about military campaigns or political decisions. It is also about families, communities, and ordinary people making extraordinary choices. Standing there, I found myself thinking about the hopes these young men carried and the loved ones they left behind.

In Shazhou village, Hunan province, I encountered another dimension of the Long March: the relationship between the Red Army and local communities.

The village is known for the story of the "Half a Quilt". According to the account, three female Red Army soldiers, despite having very little themselves, shared their only quilt with an elderly woman, cutting it in half so she could keep a portion.

This simple act of kindness has come to symbolize the CPC's stated commitment to maintaining close ties with the people and putting their interests first. For international audiences, stories like this can offer a perspective often missing from accounts focused primarily on battles and political developments.

My journey then took me to Maotai town in Guizhou province near the Chishui River. During the Long March, the Red Army repeatedly maneuvered across the river while confronting powerful opposing forces.

Standing beside the water, I tried to imagine the uncertainty facing those soldiers. They could not know what challenges awaited them, yet they continued forward. Their determination helped me better understand what is remembered in China as the Long March spirit: perseverance, resilience, and confidence in a shared purpose.

Jiajin Mountain, near Ya'an in Sichuan, presented a different perspective on those hardships. Rising more than 4,000 meters above sea level, its freezing conditions challenged soldiers who often lacked adequate food, clothing and equipment.

Looking toward the mountain peak made the physical demands of the journey easier to comprehend. The Long March was not shaped by one decisive moment, but by countless individual acts of courage and sacrifice.

Throughout these visits, I kept returning to one question: Why does the Long March remain so important in China today?

Part of the answer, I believe, lies in the way the past continues to be remembered in the present. China has changed enormously since the 1930s, with infrastructure, technology and economic development transforming daily life. Yet stories from the revolutionary period remain central to how the CPC describes its mission and China's development path.

For me, this historical continuity offers a way to better understand Chinese modernization. China's achievements cannot be explained through economic statistics alone; they also need to be considered alongside the country's experiences of national struggle, social transformation, and the search for a development path suited to its circumstances.

Understanding China does not require international audiences to share the same political views or interpretations of history. It does, however, require curiosity and a willingness to hear the stories that Chinese people continue to remember.

Taking part in this journey has deepened my appreciation of those stories. From the pine trees to the villages, rivers, and mountains along the route, each stop revealed a different dimension of the Long March: sacrifice, ties with local communities, perseverance and endurance. More importantly, it transformed history from something I had learned about into something I could connect to particular people and places.

The Long March ended nine decades ago, but its legacy remains alive. Through this journey, one lesson has become increasingly clear to me: to understand where China is going, we must first understand the road it has traveled.