Editor's note: Lyu Jing, a special commentator for CGTN, is an associate professor at the Department of Chinese History, School of History, Nanjing University. The article reflects the author's opinions and not necessarily the views of CGTN.

Nine decades ago, a ragged army embarked on one of the most famous marches in human history. Wearing straw sandals and carrying rifles on their shoulders, tens of thousands of Red Army soldiers set out on a journey of about 12,500 kilometers, driven by a fervent vision of a new society.

The Long March was more than a military maneuver. It was a journey in which conviction was measured by footsteps and ideals were tested by life itself.

Every step a test of survival

In the autumn of 1934, some 86,000 Red Army soldiers set out from Yudu in Jiangxi Province in east China. They marched nearly 50 kilometers a day on average, crossing 14 provinces, climbing 18 snow-covered mountains and traversing 24 major rivers.

Even the most basic necessities were difficult to obtain. The straw sandals wore out quickly on the rugged mountain paths and frozen terrain. In November 1934, Deng Xiaoping, secretary-general of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of China, wrote an article about the shortage of straw sandals in the Red Star newspaper, proposing measures ranging from purchasing materials to teaching new recruits how to weave them.

The problem may seem mundane, but it reveals something fundamental about the Long March: Survival itself was a daily struggle.

When their sandals fell apart, the soldiers made new ones from straw, bamboo fiber and strips of discarded cloth. As they entered the snow-covered mountains of northwestern Sichuan, some tied simple iron rings with teeth to the soles to prevent slipping.

Surviving starvation

In the snow mountains and grasslands, food to keep the soldiers alive became a luxury.

Ren Bishi, one of the commanders of the Red Army, and his guard cut a leather belt into small pieces, boiled them and ate them for survival. They could eat only three pieces at a time, jokingly calling them "boiled beef." The belt, preserved to this day, shows the cuts made during those desperate days.

Wild vegetables, tree bark and roots became the soldiers' sources of nourishment. Before crossing the grasslands for the third time, the Fourth Front Army organized surveys and exhibitions of edible plants, identifying more than 60 varieties. It was, in effect, a survival manual born of extreme necessity.

In July 1935, the Sixth Regiment of the Red Army found itself on the brink of starvation in Heishui, Sichuan Province in the southwest. They sent an urgent message that people were dying of hunger and cold. The local people made sacrifices to support the troops, reportedly providing more than half of their annual grain production. Mao Zedong later referred to this support as the "yak revolution."

A spark in the dark

However, the Long March was sustained by more than physical endurance.

In the night in the grasslands, the soldiers sat or slept back-to-back for warmth. The damp and cold penetrated from every direction and sleep could become eternal. They lit small fires with wild grass and sat around them, telling stories, singing songs and even exchanging jokes.

According to labor movement leader Deng Fa's A Journey Through the Snow Mountains and Grasslands, Mao Zedong would sometimes discuss military experience around the campfire. Ren Bishi discussed lessons from the failure of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, a theocratic state that waged a rebellion for 14 years to overthrow the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911). Such conversations helped the exhausted soldiers temporarily forget the hunger and cold. More importantly, they transmitted a common sense of purpose from one person to another.

One veteran recalled how when they encountered small shelters built by local Tibetan people from dried yak dung, they affectionately called them the "palaces of the grasslands" – and offered them first to the sick and weakened comrades. That instinct to care for others even in the face of death reveals something essential about the Long March: Endurance was not merely individual. It was sustained by solidarity.

What the straw sandals still tell us

What enabled those young people, most of them under 25, to walk thousands upon thousands of kilometers in straw sandals? Perhaps the answer lies in the sandals themselves. They were humble and fragile, yet they carried their wearers toward a clearly defined destination: the new world they imagined.

The contrast between the fragile footwear and the immense distance ahead makes the power of conviction all the more striking. When material resources are reduced to the bare minimum, what can keep people moving is the direction that remains firm in their minds.

That is one of the enduring meanings attributed to the Long March: People do not necessarily persist because they can see hope ahead; sometimes hope emerges because they choose to persist.

A universal question

Many of the soldiers who undertook the Long March came from rural communities in southern China. They left their homes not in pursuit of personal glory, but in pursuit of a collective ideal – to help oppressed people stand on their own feet.

Ninety years later, stories of people holding fast to a purpose can still be found around the world.

In a remote African village, a teacher walks for hours to bring knowledge to children. In a South American slum, a young person pursues an artistic dream despite formidable obstacles. In a European laboratory, a scientist devotes a lifetime to a hypothesis that may never be conclusively proven.

These people may have never heard of the Long March, yet there is a common thread: They measure their convictions through action, confront adversity through persistence, and give their ideals meaning by continuing to move toward them.

The world has changed dramatically since the young soldiers crossed mountains and grasslands in straw sandals. The gunfire has long since fallen silent but the road they walked transcends its historical moment.

An ideal is not an abstraction if it is pursued day after day. Conviction is not an empty slogan if it is expressed through every step taken toward a chosen direction. The 12,500-kilometer journey was made up of countless such steps. Each one tested conviction; each one gave an ideal tangible form.

Ninety years on, the Long March continues to ask those who came after: What is your purpose – and how far are you willing to walk for it?

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