Up into the mountains, down into the villages. (shangshan xiaxiang: 上山下乡)

When talking about their experiences before I was born, they almost always mentioned the period in Cultural Revolution when every young adult in China were sent to do manual labor in the countryside. Known to the Chinese as shang shan xia xiang, this period is very difficult to imagine for the later generation, and even more difficult for people from the US. There has never been anything like this in the US that is equally chaotic, disruptive, degenerative, and ridiculous. I would probably not be a good person to give a history lesson on this period, so I recommend that you should read some Chinese history books such as the one written by John King Fairbanks or other online sources. However, after browsing through online sources it seems that there aren't too much information on this period, so I will digress briefly from talking about my parents' unique experiences and focus on China as a whole.
In the 1970's when Chairman Mao saw that he was losing control of the Chinese government he mobilized youth to help fight his cause. But when the youths were wreaking havoc in all the cities, Mao encouraged them to work in the countryside, as a way to cleanse themselves of bourgeois thinking and toughen-up. At first he encouraged youths to do so, later he made it mandatory. So millions of urban youths were sent to villages, remote mountainous regions, for farming or other construction projects. It is really hard for me to imagine: living hundreds of miles away from home, doing hard labor, living in wretched conditions, and only allowed to come home once a year. 
My dad's account of it was this. He was only allowed to bring one bag, which he took some clothes, a quilt for sleeping, some toiletries, and a few of his books. He and his classmates were hauled off on a truck and rode for several hours until they reached the mountains. Because there were no roads, they had to walk several days to their campsite. He described that hike was very difficult. They hiked the whole day until it was too dark to see, then they were allowed to rest and eat some food. As soon as he stopped, he dropped to the ground and slept, with the gear still on his back. When he woke up several hours later and ate some bread, and once the moon came out they started hiking again.
Oh by the way, as I recall every time we went for a walk in the Botanical Gardens in Athens, my dad would bring up his hike into the mountains. It was as if seeing the trees overhead and the muddy path beneath brings him back to those memories. He never said it a bitter tone, as if he felt mistreated. Rather he felt proud of the fact that he was able to experience it... but he would never want to go through it again.
Dad mentioned that his company of youth lived next to a military compound, which was good since the military were relatively better supplied. Although the military looked after the them, they still had to make their own cabins to live in, which meant they had to chop wood and haul it back to the campsite. Dad often would mention how difficult it was to carry the wood on his shoulders, walking up and down on the mountains. He often said, "I couldn't carry too much as compared to others, but I was really surprised to see that the ones who could carry the most actually had the smallest frames!"
(I find it interesting that Christ had to carry wood on his shoulders and hike up a hill, where he was crucified. It was as if God wanted him to experience this particular toil that mankind had to endure for thousands of years.)
Once the cabins were built, they went to work on the blasting tunnels through the mountains for the railroads. Dad's particular job was that he was overseeing a group of electricians who set up lighting after the dynamite is set off. He said it was a really dangerous job since there might still be some dynamite not set off when they get into the tunnel, and many lost their limbs. I was young when I heard him say this and I am still impressed to this day that Dad once had such a thrilling job.
Such was the condition of my dad in this ordeal. His only picture that I can find in this period is shown below. 

The first thing you can notice is how thin my father was; his old clothes seem to dangle on this shoulders and waist. I can see at least two patches on his right pant leg. Behind him are bare and dry mountains that nothing seems to be growing on. To the left of his feet seems to be roofs, which could be where he lived.