Day 50: Grenade!
(Backdated post)
The first, and most probably last live hand grenade flew from my hand today and exploded.
We were given a tour of the grenade range when we arrived at the grounds, and proceeded to throw a practice grenade followed by a live one.
The pin on the practice grenade was a stubborn one. With all my strength, I couldn’t twist it out if my life depended on it, and had to hand it off the annoyed sergeant beside me who got it out on my behalf, and then passed it back to me. I’ve to admit that handing a grenade, even a practice one with barely any explosives to another person with the pin already out is rather scary business.
Fortunately, the pin came off without much of a struggle on my actual throw. I pulled the pin out, handed the pin to my platoon commander who was standing beside me, got that ‘okay’ tap on my shoulder, flung it and dived behind the protection of the grenade bay right away. I wasn’t scared, but once again, military equipment is always provided for by the lowest bidder, so it was a “boy, I’m glad to have got rid of that” feeling the moment it left my hand.
Day 47: Guard duty
(Backdated post, excerpt from diary)
Guard duty came down on me and my buddy unexpectedly today.
I’m one of the rare ones that have bene looking forward to doing guard duty with enthusiasm rather than distaste as it would be a break from the routine life of doing physical training daily. Also, I wanted to be able to put a rest to the so-called “paranormal sightings” that have became urban legends around here.
If I recall right, a total of sixteen people from my company had guard duty on the same day. We had an early dinner and were taught the parade skills required for the flag lowering ceremony since it’s the guard duty personnel that graces it. I was nervous because I’ve always been poor at parading. Fortunately, our two guard commanders were rather nice fellows and basically told us to just follow the person standing in front, who in turn was following yet another. Mistakes were made, but thankfully, no verbal abuse was dished out.
We were then marched off to the guard house where roles were assigned. The pair of us took the prowler role, which involves patrolling around rather than the sentry role, which involves being rooted the same spot for the duration of the shift. Each shift lasted two hours, followed by four hours of rest, and three pairs of guards rotated shifts.
Since I had the third shift, the pair of us headed up to the guard house bunk for a rest first. My oh my, the bunk was in an abysmal state. The place was a congregation of dust and the wall lined with cobwebs. It also felt like a furnace in there which left me unable to sleep. To add insult to injury, there was a dead cockroach near my bed, with an army of ants busy devouring it. It was the modern version of a forlorn inn.
My first shift started at 1130h. The first round around the camp was entrilling. As a recruit, I’ve never had this much freedom before. To be walking around at night without supervision - this was new! Between the pair of us we were supposed to keep a distance of 1 meter to 3 meters. This was perfect for me as I get to enjoy a rather solitary walk, something that was much needed which I have not had in a very long time. The walk was peaceful. There were no interruptions from any source, be it living or dead.
The second round however, was a lot less exciting. My feet and neck were sore by then and I just wanted to get over it as soon as possible. The euphoria of doing something new had worn off.
Once the shift was over, the pair of us went back up into the guardroom bunk. This time, despite the poor condition of the room, sleep came quickly due to exhaustion, until four hours later when the second shift begun, and then it was breakfast, and I was back at my company’s barracks, where another round of sleep soon came. The bed at company line never felt this good.
Week 6
We started on our BCCT (Basic Close Combat Training) on Monday, which is basically unarmed combat, kung-fu fighting, martial arts, or whatever you want to call it. The primary distinction, which we were reminded again and again by the instruction, from traditional martial arts is that while the various forms of martial arts are usually governed by rules on where to or where not to hit, no rules apply for BCCT. The objective for us to fight to disable or kill, not to score points. It was one of the rare lessons that I enjoyed, because it’s something that would be beneficial too in civilian life. It never hurts to be able to defend one’s self.
The distance covered by the route march took a step up too, we’re now marching 6 km instead of the 4 km previously. The increase is rather minor though and I barely had any issues with it, with the exception of my arms going numb as per normal due the load of the field back crushing down on both my shoulders. Furthermore, we were rewarded with an unexpected break when the safety rover that was trailing us broke down at the 5 km mark and we had to wait for it to be fixed. Safety rules dictate that during the route march, a safety rover has to be present in the event that someone needs to be evacuated for medical attention.
Right after the route march, a huge cleaning campaign was launched. There has been a number of people falling ill, first due to water contamination issues, which although the problem was rectified, the number of sick kept rising. The upper echelon didn’t have a clue as to what was going on, so the blame fell on us for not keeping the barracks clean.
We were introduced to the SOC (Standard Obstacle Course) this week too. The SOC comprises of 11 items, but we were only taught 6 thus far. There’s a video here on YouTube if you’re wondering what it’s like. So far we’ve covered the low wall, parallel bars, stepping board, low rope, horizontal beam and the swinging bridge. The low rope is the only one I can’t clear so far.
We received two days off instead instead of the usual one this weekend because Monday is Deepavali, which is a public holiday here in Singapore. Hardly matters though, it’s equally lonely in or out of camp.
Week 5
This week marked a sharp decline in physical training in exchange for outfield and combat training. The week started with the live firing range, which I am pleased to say was something I turned out to be good at. Out of a total of 32 shots, divided into 16 shots during the day, and 16 at night, only two bullets failed to find their targets, both during the night firing. I didn’t have to re-shoot unlike many of my counterparts, and therefore spent the rest of the four or so hours waiting for nightfall stuffing myself with food from the snack bar. Yay for achieving marksmanship and being able to book out one night earlier as a result.
This was also my first time venturing into the jungle for our camouflage and concealment lesson. The camouflage paint we had to apply on our faces turned out to be a giant pain in the ass. It never stays on when it’s supposed to due to excessive perspiration and friction from the helmet strap rubbing against the cheek area, and it never comes off either when it’s supposed to. I had a hell of a time trying to clean myself up and after 30 minutes of washing my face, I was still left with a look that appeared as if I had eyeliners applied. Everyone did, and we had a good laugh looking at each other’s faces. Wished I could have taken a picture of it.
Another major of the week was the Grenade Assault Course, in which dummy grenades were thrown from various positions. A part of it involved leopard crawling behind cover, which is probably one of the most tiring things I’ve ever done. It looks simple enough in movies, but reality is far from it.
I didn’t manage a single diary entry at all this week since the majority of the time was spent outfield, and by the time I return, I fall on my bed and collapse into a heap from the exhaustion, only to face the same thing again the next day. A positive result from that packed schedule is that it doesn’t leave me much time to feel depressed and lament about how much I hate being here.
Week in Review: Week 4
The week started off slow, really slow. The first few days were marked by constant blares from the warning system, followed by a lady’s voice speaking the words “cat one, cat one”, which sent everyone yelling for joy. Category one, which refers to danger of lightning strikes and a cessation of outdoor activities not under shelter, is a warm welcome. I should have brought in a book to read, but I didn’t check the weather forecast and thus did not anticipate the free time that came with it. The second half of the week was uber-hectic however.
The boring routine of life has killed my dairy writing. I used to be able to write at least two pages everyday, but now I’m filling less than half a page. It’s extremely easy to lose track of day and date in the army because every day is exactly the same as the previous. Time, on the other hand, I’ve became rather adept at estimating, usually within 30mins accuracy.
We started marching 4 km distances in FBO (Full Battle Order), which means that we have to carry our field pack with us, in addition to the usual vest, helmet and rifle. Nothing in my civilian life prepared me for the load, not even my usual armada of hard-covered books and my laptop. The strain on my shoulder was horrible, but I managed to find some motivation by telling myself that some day when I’m a dad, I’m going to have to carry a kid behind my back, and this would be the best training for it. We’ll have to eventually march up to 24 km in one session before passing out of basic training.
There were quite a few recruitment talks from the various military branches to try and entice us to sign up as regulars. I’ll admit that the offers are pretty impressive, but a military career is not for me, and my heart is somewhere else, not in this place. The Navy and Air Force both took humorous jabs at the Army for fighting imaginary enemies, which although funny, is not without truth. Piracy is an issue around the waters here, and thus gives the Navy and the Air Force a tangible treat to counter. The Army on the other hand, wages it’s war on dust and sand daily.
We did the first round of EI (Express Interest) surveys this week, which is basically a seminar that gives those who aspire to be commanders (Officers and Specialists) a chance to express their interest in doing so. I don’t think it’s a path for me. As much as the benefits from being an officer are numerous, I can’t and will not bring myself to lead people in something which I do not believe in.
Next week marks the first time that I’ll be out in the field and doing live firing, so perhaps I’ll have something more to write.
Days off and catching up
All the stuff that had piled up in my RSS Reader during my 16 days of absence of civilization came crashing down on me today. I spent most of the day catching up with news that were two weeks old, and I’m not even through one-third of them yet. Seven TV episodes and the live event quests in EQ2 were also on the pile.
A couple new quests were unlocked due to people contributing to and filling up the required bone shards to the brim. I got down to investing the murder of Seeress Ealayna Ithis right away. These quests were extremely well done, backed by a compelling storyline, in contrast to the previous live events that were mindless rinse and repeat ones. The conclusion of the quest even comes with a cut scene! I’d have loved to get them done on as many characters as possible, but with only a short few days of freedom, I don’t have the luxury of time. Sigh.
I also canceled a bunch of subscriptions. I’m actually considering placing my EQ2 account on hold. I want to take this chance (that I’ll rarely be home) to live a life as frugal as possible. The pay, or rather, allowance for National Servicemen is a pittance. Roughly calculated (assuming a 6-day week and 17-hours a day, since we only get 7 hours of sleep) it’s somewhere in the range of a dollar per hour for a Recruit. It makes being employed as a toilet cleaner in the private sector something of a luxury job.
As Murphy’s Law of Combat puts it, “always keep in mind that your weapon was made by the lowest bidder”, so are the men who are supposed to be defending this country (being paid the least).
Days 1 to 16
It was Auschwitz with better food, although most days the food sucked, at least there was food.
The first thing that caught my sight as the taxi I was in turned it’s way into Pasir Ris bus terminal was the long line of waiting of buses. They were not the typical green army buses, or army lorries, but rather, plain civilian style buses. As I, with my parents, joined in the group of enlistees being herded up into them, a vivid scene of prisoners of war boarding one of those windowless trains, being sent away into a faraway concentration camp came into my mind.
It had started raining by the time buses pulled departed for the ferry terminal, as if the heavens were sympathizing with me. The buses led us to a ferry terminal where a fifteen minute boat ride took us to a remote island where the camp was located.
It is worth noting that almost everything in the army is outsourced to external contractors, from the buses that drove us to the ferry terminal, the ferries that carried us to Pulau Tekong (where the camp is situated), the food served, the laundromat that cleans the bedsheets to the gear we were given. It’s our very own brand of a military-industrial complex.
Up to this point, everything had been civil. However, once my parents are I were separated, the atmosphere changed quickly from what could have been mistaken as a leisure ride to a resort to that of a regimented military.
The hours that followed were boring. Gear was handed out, checked, and rechecked. Lots of paperwork had to be done and it was nightfall by the time we received our haircut and had time off to ourselves, which wasn’t much at all. I didn’t even have time for a shower. The first day came to a conclusion. There was gradually more free time as the days came by, but the hours that they came at totally sucked for me, as they fell during when the people I would want to contact were asleep.
The army feels very much like an Orwellian society. We’re constantly reminded about how much the army cares for each and every of us, and are here to help us. Realistically, we’re nothing more than numbers in the system.
Twice a day, during flag raising and lowering, we’re expected to suspend all activities for the duration and face, in attention, at the direction of the flag. This reminds me of the scene in the movie, Dark City, where all activities come to a halt as the city’s inhabitants fall unconscious while the city is being reshaped in a process called “tuning”.
On the third day, we had our weapons presentation ceremony. This was preceded by a mock fire drill, which had us fall in not knowing what to expect next. From there, we marched off in darkness to the stadium ground, which was illuminated only by two camp fires, each burning from three tin cans. A short speech was given by the commanding officer of our company, and each of our names were called our and handed a rifle, the SAR-21, during which, the theme song from Star Wars (opening sequence) was played, which I felt was completely inappropiate. Instead of taking up arms in defense, it made me feel as if I were part of a big bad empire that was going to come crushing down on some small fellows. They might as well go all out and play the Imperial March instead.
In addition to being an Orwellian society, the army is also the prime example of a bureaucracy. When I finally gave in to my throat which was waging a war of insurgency against me and requested to see a Medical Officier (i.e. doctor), I felt a lot like the Land Surveyor in Franz Kafka’s book, “The Castle“, getting pushed from one place to another without getting anything accomplished. It took me three days of getting pushed around before I got what I wanted. It really is a process that would even daunt Kafka himself.
More similarities to that of a concentration camp, bunk inspections started taking up pace towards the end of the second week. We had as much as three inspections on a really bad day. It seem to very much like how guards in concentration camps would constantly ransack bunks for contraband and other concealed items that might aid in escape.
Army life is extremely routine. I wake up at the same time everyday, go through the sequence of events, and sleep, or at least try to (for I commonly have difficulty sleeping), on the clock.
If I had to single out one thing that I dislike in the army, it would be foot drills. Foot drills are a relic of old when armies marched towards in line and faced each other off in formation on the battlefield, which we no longer do today as everyone understands the pure stupidity of that due to the invention of the machine gun. It’s one of those things preserved for the sake of tradition, which looks good on the parade square but serves no other purpose.
Personally, I’m having a hard time time trying to integrate with people. I don’t share the same level of enthusiasm as most of the people, and it’s hard for me to do something which I do not believe in, and this extends even to singing the army songs - I’ve to force myself to utter out the words and sang them, although I felt none of that excitement or euphoria or fighting spirit as the army loves to call it, no matter how hard I tried. I felt very much like Bernard Marx did during the communal singing session in the book, Brave New World. I’m of a personality that is on the opposite end of the spectrum compared to the rest, and also I’m far back in my physical abilities, among many others. Often I feel as if I’m persona non grata in my platoon. And sometimes, I feel like Leonard Lawrence (better known as Pvt. Gomer Pyle) in the movie, Full Metal Jacket.
I realize that I’m drawing a lot of analogies to other characters in fiction/non-fiction. This is due to my inability to express precisely how I feel in words, and I hope I could be pardoned for that.
Well, that was sixteen days compressed into one entry. A lot of content has been left out as I felt that I shouldn’t bore my readers with more of the mundane details. I do keep a diary and wrote a few short stories during what free time I have, for writing is the only thing that keeps me sane. If my fellow readers would prefer, I could post an entry for almost everyday.
I book back in on the evening of the 1st of October. Until then, time to catch up life, and thank you to the people that communicated with me while I was in camp. I was ill-prepared and ran into a whole bunch of issues such as running out of battery on my mobile phone and my Gmail app not functioning correctly, but I’ll step up communications in future I promise (getting more batteries later today). My overfilled RSS Reader is calling, in no small part thanks to Stargrace and Tipa, who both have managed to write over 30 articles during the 16 days I was gone for, and RailGun too, with 13 articles. Time to sift through them.
Off I Go
Image source: http://flickr.com/photos/missgongandtheflickers/2781016975/
There is an underlying similarity between drafted in the military and being sent to Auschwitz. In both of them, a person is being confined to a place and told a do a specific list of tasks against their will. Maybe I’m being a little too pessimistic here, maybe the experience would be more like being in a Stalag Luft (conditions at the Luftwaffe operated camps were much better compared to others), or maybe it would even be like a resort, but it’s still a place that I did not choose to be and have no control over myself.
My enlistment is at 1130h tomorrow morning, but I’m posting this now just in case I’m in a rush tomorrow and don’t have to time to open up my drafts and publish this. No matter how many times one goes through the checklist of items to bring, something always comes up at the last minute. I still have not familiarized myself with the phone I’m supposed to be using, and I’m debating bringing my current one in because the other is too primitive for me.
Goodbye for now.
Shopping Trip
With under two weeks left before I have to surrender myself to the local concentration camp report for enlistment, I took the the task of shopping for the necessities.
I’m a geek, and the only bag I own which carries anything worthwhile is my Targus laptop backpack, and that wouldn’t do. I settled on one of those side-carried sports utility bags, much like those which terrorists in fiction love to carry around their arms and bombs in. Next were a few miscellaneous items like clothes hangers, washing powder (can’t wait to sing “Laundry Day” while doing my own laundry) and a pair of swimming goggles which somewhat matched my eyesight but not really at the same time. I’m sure I’ll bump into something with it on.
I’ve been advised to get a pair of cheap plastic spectacles but I can’t be bothered to. With my eyesight, there’s no such thing as “cheap” spectacles. And frankly, a pair of huge, thick and black plastic spectacles would just make me look plain dumb.
After going countless years without a watch, I treated myself to one. I carried one that had its wrist bands broken in my pocket throughout secondary school, and after that I relied on my mobile phone as a time keeper. I’m allowed to bring in a mobile phone, but not carry around with me all the time, so I’ve no choice but to settle for a cheap digital watch.
On the topic of mobile phones, although my Sony Ericsson W950i should be allowed in without problem since it’s not a camera phone and it does not have any removable memory sticks (4 GB internal flash ftw), I decided not to take the risk of either having it confiscated or stolen, and downgrade to an old school phone like every other fellow NS-men. In my case, it was a Nokia 6100 which was handed down to me by my dad. I’ll be able to make calls from time to time, although I’m not sure who I would call. There isn’t many people that I talk on the phone to.
Left: W950i. Right: 6100
The remaining items, which are not pictured are the stuff which I have but can’t pack yet, due to obvious reasons, such as toiletries, underwear, nail clipper and slippers.
Aside from all the above, I bought a pack of mixed vegetables and a dozen more eggs to supplement the grind of my egg cooking skills (omelet, half-boiled, hard-boiled, scrambled, regular fried). I’m not sure what I’ll use the mixed vegetables for at this point. I’ve survived on a week of my own cooking so far (because my mom started work), but I’m rapidly running out of ideas on what to make that’s within my reach.
Enlistment Date
12 September 2008.
It seems that I’m going in much later than most of my friends who are in the June/July intake due to me failing my physical test. Maybe I’ll get to try Warhammer Online before I get sent of. I’m considering if I should heed my parent’s advise and take up a job meanwhile, but I don’t see too many options available and I’m not too keen on a “do you want fries along that?” job. If I’m to get employed, I’d want a skilled job that lets me apply the things that I’ve learnt in school.
