Scathing Memories - Memoirs from BMT

I still remember clearly the beginning of the end of my resolve to be an officer for the SAF...

It was a long day. Waking up at 4:45 am in the morning had become such a daily routine for me that I woke up even before my alarm rang. Which of course inevitably wakes up the whole contingent of birds camping outside our window sill.

I still wanted to be an officer. Was it mere foolish resolve or something deeper that prompted me to believe that everything was walking my way?

My first field camp. So far, I thought that the worst would only be the terrible 8 km (it was alot for me then) full-pack fast march to the campsite.
It only took moment for us to change into our No. 4. We knew it inside out (literally), and a harassed soldier can do things at amazing speeds.

"5 minutes to change and get your fucking butts down!!"

my platoon officer hardly uses vulgarities, thus the F* word jolted us to fly down the stairs.

I also learned that jumping down the stairs 5 steps at a time with a full field pack on is extremely dangerous for your legs.

Once assembled, a withering glance by the platoon sergeant at a soldier who didn't polish his shoe sent half the platoon flying up the stairs again just to polish our shoes.

We are soldiers. We were expected to follow every single rule religiously and portray an image of martial discipline.
- We were expected to be bloodthirsty as well.

Thus that field camp began.

I dreamed of having that bar. When my parents would... just smile at me with approval. I wanted to prove to myself. To everybody that it wasn't what made you, but who you made yourself.
I dreamed and I dreamt.

The weather was horrible. I couldn't imagine a worst weather for a route march. The monsoon season was at it's height and the worst part wasn't the rain, but the sheer humidity. Within a few minutes, everybody was soaking wet with sweat.
To top it up, the moment we left the cement track (which was only a short distance), the muddy track loomed ahead of us - full of portholes.

I learned that portholes are nasty. But they're nastier when they're covered with a layer of water.
You go like "We-are-oh-ah-infan-*GLOOP*" , "FUCK!!!".

...and your No.4 has been gloopified even before setting up camp. In fact, your beautiful No.4 has became somewhat similar to the desert outfit that the US Army wears.


Trudging through the sand became a daily affair after that. We never laughed at anybody else except ourselves when we stepped into portholes...


When we reached the campsite, I seriously thought we took a wrong turn somewhere. It didn't look like we could set up camp anywhere. Sure, there were some patches of soil with sparse vegetation; but other then that, it was Tarzan!
Long grass, amputated tree trunks, roots, and the worst part was the soil! It was so drenched with water that driving a tent peg through it was like building a skyscraper in the sea.

Finally after digging and scraping till we found dry soil, my buddy and I managed to peg and set up our tent - only to find out we were like 10 cm away from the formation line.
We had to destroy our tents and remake it again in 10 minutes.

and of course, with an additional 50-pumpings-face-down-in-the-mud kind.


Life as an officer? I was thinking that life in hell could fare much better...


Make it or break it.
That was what I was told. The field camp was supposed to separate the chaff from the wheat; the dirt from the gold...

Life was hell. We had to wrap our stuff before leaving our tent (because "wild boars" would come and steal our foodstuff). And it was a nightmare to crawl in the mud to tie up our tents cos it would just mean that the 20 seconds that our sergeant gave us to "GET YOUR FUCKING E-T BLADE AND STICK AND PARADE THEM IN FRONT OF ME NOW!" was virtually impossible.

... not tying up our stuff in ground sheets incurred worse results. Shoes and sandals got mysteriously stolen, and occasionally, somebody would get a severe punishment for losing an LBV (light battle vest) item.


Army was meant to harden me. I believed that it was good for me. That I needed the regimentation.. the discipline... I wondered how long it would take, before I broke...


Night fell.
As all light went out, I felt despair like no other... I've never ever experienced such persistent inky darkness like no other!
It was so dark it felt like a solid wall was in front of you. You couldn't see ANYTHING at all! Your savior was the useless torchlight that SAF gave you...

The battery lifespan of the torch was about 3 hours, and then its just you and Mr. Inky. I was frightened... We were not allowed to use the torch most of the time, and when we could, it was through a tiny microscopic slit that allowed a sliver of light to seep through.

.. but the effect was tremendous. That tiny "sliver" of light was visible from over two thousand meters away!

I felt sick to my stomach. I never knew if the next step I took would be into a porthole or a massive ant nest.
*one of my platoon mates stepped into a gigantic red-ants nest, and the effect was nightmarish....


... then the moment came. In a mere 30 minutes, my entire resolve broke...

For honor and glory. It seemed so easy. Just strive to be the best? That's what I've always done.

My rifle sling's buckle broke.
It was already so rusty, and it would have to give way sooner or later.
But I wish, I wish that it did not give way then...

My whole rifle slipped and into the darkness.

I groped around blindly, trying to find my rifle, my buckle and the rogue sling.
When I finally found all three objects, I laid my rifle against the tree while I tried my best to tape up my horribly broken buckle.
After a massive waste of tape, I managed to repair the sling to a reasonable extent....

I reached for my rifle.

I only felt bark.
My throat felt like bark.
I can't believe that it happened to me...

I groped around the grass like a madman. I couldn't believe that my rifle got "stunned" just for repairing my broken buckle!....
The punishment for losing your rifle... I don't think I need to reiterate how severe that offense is...

I didnt dare to leave my place, so I kept shouting for help... and my platoon officer came to my "rescue"...

He was carrying two rifles with him...

My heart immediately jumped, but went the repercussion set in, my heart sank even further then before...

"Recruit. What is your rifle number?"
"... B217"
"I don't have it. What is it again?"
"(shouted) B217!!"
"Is it? I don't see anything like that written on this lost gun"

... my eyes were already starting to tear..

"Sir, I'm sorry sir! I promise that it won't ever happen again!"

... the ludicrity of the entire situation kept striking me again and again. Should I even be apologizing to the person who blatantly STOLE my gun, just because I left in resting against a tree to repair my buckle?

"YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING WIFE! YOU KNOW WHAT I SEE? I SEE A-N-D-R-E-W-'-S W-I-F-E!!! YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING WIFE AND I HAVE IT!!
Recruit. Do you know what is the punishment for losing your wife?"

above everything, I saw that I would've most likely lost my chance of ever going to officer cadet school.
His eyes just radiated one message... "disappointment"

... my eyes just reflected his; tears couldn't be kept long..

"I'm sorry sir, I will accept any punishment you give me."

"Your parents entrusted you to SAF, for you to become a man, not a wussy, so stop being a baby and give me 50 push ups."

"Yes sir!"

(proceed to do push ups)

"Your parents will be so disappointed in you"

"Yes sir!"

"You have siblings?"

"Yes sir!"

"They will be so disappointed in you."

"Yes sir!"

"What do you want to achieve in the army?"

"I want to be an officer sir!"

"You can't pass your IPPT, you lose you gun, you shout in the middle of a tactical night operation, you think you know what responsibilities an officer hold?"

"My brother is an officer, so I think I know a bit sir!"

"Your brother is an officer? Then you should know also that OCS is a hundred times worse then this.
... You'll never be an officer."


... I think that was when I broke.
I screamed so loud that I thought the rest of the company would come running.

they didnt.

I hated him.
I hated him for shattering my dreams.
I hated him for looking down on me.
I hated him for thinking himself a god...


"If you want to be an officer, you'll have to do alot more. As far as I can see, you're not going to be one.
... come and get your rifle from me when this operation is over. You'll serve SOL for 7 days. Then you'll write a report.
You're the first person in this field camp to lose your gun. You better pray you're not the only one."

He turned off the field light and walked away.
The darkness drowned me...
I broke down...

I guess my resolve is weak.

but trust me. To break my own resolve only could come from a greater resolve.

I vowed that I will prove that I don't need to be an officer to be better.

I'll lead my life in army, so relaxed that officer cadet school will become completely irrelevent.




... field camp ended.
... my dreams ended.




what's the big deal about being an officer?


... i really don't know.


I don't think I want to associate myself with such a screwed up association. I hate the SAF. The memories it gave me will scar my life forever, but one thing I'd always remember...

"As far as I can see, you're not going to be one."

As far as I can see, I can not be one, but I can be far better then you.

...

It may be a taunt, for me to follow up. But I guess it backfired.

Put the blame on using it on a weak willed person like me.







... I hate the SAF.

Gone Case

Life is beautiful... supposedly.. supposedly how you make of whatever you have...

I almost broke up with him last night... my heart was on the verge of breaking into a million pieces... again...

I can only blame myself I guess, because almost everything is because of me...

but what can I do?...


... sigh...


I just feel like giving up everything sometimes... my whole heart is so numb I don't think I'd flinch if somebody stabbed it with a blunt knife...

Everybody just expects so much of me... my parents, my colleagues, my boss, my friends... I always thought that the term "put in your best for everything" was meant to make your life easier...
but it has never been the case..

Put your best in everything and you only get more shit thrown back at you...

People expect you to do more, for less..
People expect you to be available for everything
People expect you to take up even more grueling assignments
People expect you to take responsibility...

seriously, what do you get back in return? nothing much. Nothing even worth mentioning...

Its late, but I'm starting to learn that if you say "yes" to everything, you'd end up living a life worse then hell... coz everybody will just throw to you what they don't want to do.

it has never been worth it, and will never be worth it...
but it's just so hard to say no...

and each time you say no, your relationship with that person becomes greatly strained.. because all along, you've be playing his game, and when suddenly you throw him a no, he becomes disoriented and angry...

I really don't know..


I'm sick of responsibility.
I'm sick of people assuming that I'm free.
I'm sick of not having ANY time for myself.
I'm sick I'm sick I'm sick..

I'm sick of everything.........



*cries*

No Regrets

sigh... i guess there comes a time when you lose interest in recording your particularly boring life...

especially in NS, when you can't write about anything.. not that there is anything interesting to write about in the first place..

so many people keep asking me, "Do you ever regret not taking the path of being an officer?"

.. after all, I had a solid chance of being one...

My answer is yes, and no.

There are certain things in life that one can never be fully certain about, such as how life could go awry, and twist to something you couldn't even tolerate in your most terrible nightmare...

National Service taught me many lessons, but I plan to throw most of them away, and keep only a few...

i. You can never be too sure about how good something is, until you've experienced it yourself

No one can say that "Oh. I understand exactly what you're going through, so I will be prepared for it when the time comes". That is impossible. Do you think it is the same if you console your friend who lost his parents, from the experience that you had when your grandparents died? - It's two totally different experiences.
I believed that I was prepared for NS, after all, I had been in a regimented uniform group for 6 years of my life. I was in excellent physical condition, and I knew every single drill by heart. But when I stepped in, life took a downward spiral. Do I know? Yes. I anticipated the worst, but there are some indescribable scenarios on earth that go beyond "worst".

ii. Leadership isn't about commanding. It isn't about respect. It isn't about pummelling others to do your commands.

Leadership is about empathy. The ability to feel as what your subordinates feel. To put yourself in their shoes, and balance the equation with what is needed to be done. The greatest tragedy about SAF leadership is the inability to do so. They believe that one shoe size fits all. Which is a big mistake.
Leadership is the ability to make people laugh, make people reflect, make people change.
Leadership is the ability to make a tedious job seem like a stroll in the park.
Leadership is the ability to shape the future, without destroying the present.
.. so many people cannot understand this....

iii. Acting is everything... almost.

One of the amazing things about the army is the ability to hide the most unpleasant situations with army-deo. I learn that it doesn't matter what you do. As long as you show that you're pristine and perfect on the surface. It doesn't matter if you're a rotten egg underneath.
Piss off to those who believe that what is underneath the surface will affect the top. That is a horrid lie. There are those who are able to mask the most unpleasant personalities with disgusting ease.
for as long as they want.

do I wish to be an officer?
Yes. Knowing that I can make a difference, it gnaws at me when I see the inefficiency playing itself out.
However, dare I say that I would not become one of those puppets if I became one?

no.

I have said it many times, and I stand by my word. THERE IS NOT A SINGLE PERSON WHO CAN ENTER THE SAF AND REMAIN THE SAME.

for better, or for worse.



Do I like my life now?
HELL YEAH.

Book out daily
No guard duties
No staying in
No officers around me
No warrant officers around me
Nice little place to take care of
Friends from all walks of life
Free food
Free transport
...
I mean... it's really a dream job.


It just bugs me, when I see my friends who complain that they never had the chance to go to OCS...
do they understand what they're saying?

and it bugs me, when I could have gone there myself...