just a shot in the dark

it's been a busy year for me thus far, much of my time had been spent in the army, and really, this is the first time since the turn of the year that i've had a chance to slow down, recharge and reflect.

 it feels surreal, crazy, that after all this time, i've got just about 9 weeks more to go, or about the period of bmt left to endure before this chapter of my life, this, rite of passage for all singaporean males is done with. and then i'd be moving on to university, back to my studies, back to the civilian world where no doubt, i'll be challenged with new obstacles to overcome, new mountains to conquer; the communal living of sleeping in bunks, sharing toilets, having meals together, moving out on missions, even getting into quarrels because of our individual quirks, all but a fond memory, to be revisited, perhaps, every in-camp training.

some of us will keep in contact with one another, others would go their own ways and we may never meet again. but that is just the cycle of life - one chapter ends and a new one begins: a season for everything.

 there was a season when i was a recruit, then a cadet. it took me time to get used to life in the army, the discipline, the regimentation. i told my sitest assessor that i would not want to be considered for ocs, because i would feel like a hypocrite to stand in front of others and command them to do things that i so deeply loathed.

 so i went to scs, where things got easier, and i thought to do my best and see how things unfold. things got easier only because of the friends made since bmt, the people who would step forwards and give you a hand even when no one is watching (all the wayangs have gone to ocs perhaps), the ones who would crack silly jokes when i walked into bunk downcast on sunday nights. i seriously considered going to the pti selections then, but nope, at last parade one fine evening, my name was read out to go for the interview to be a scout in 3 SIR. out of over a thousand cadets, it so happened that my named turned up.

and the thing about such interviews is that, should you express an interest in the said vocation, you're in. express non-interest, and chances are, you're still in.

 hence, i was posted to 3 SIR as a scout.

next up was driving course, but it was actually more about anger management, then learning to drive. still, i passed on my second attempt, made peace with my instructor (he told me after my test that he had always known that i can drive, that his admonishments were to keep me from becoming complacent - like that also can?) and all was well.

 then at recce commander's course (rcc), the unthinkable happened. for the first time in my life, i witnessed death so personally.

 i'd lost an uncle earlier in the year, an uncle who was never shy to show his affection towards me, who always appeared filled with vitality, a fighter, who beat this throat cancer once already but finally succumbed to a relapse.

 i remember being at his funeral thinking, what is life, that at the end of it, a man who lived so large, was shrunk into a box 6 feet long and 20 inches wide? all his victories, all his defeats null. all his words and booming laughter silenced - his existence - void.

i lost a friend at rcc, was put out of course for it, then placed back into course after an apology. but all that didn't really matter to me then. all that was going through my mind was that my friend had passed on.

i broke down in a manner that i had not done so i a long long time at his funeral. the moment the hearse bearing his picture - smiling, looking proud and handsome - i crumbled. the unkind manner that i spoke to him just before he passed on, the way he put up with my tandrums, the way he pushed on so as to not be a liability to us all, everything came flooding back in that instance, the loss, the guilt, the feeling of my heart sinking when i first heard of the news, the knot in my heart that makes it difficult to breathe, the shame when people tell me that it isn't my fault, all these emotions came flooding into my conciousness and i wept bitterly.

the soldiers' salutes, the trumpet's lament, the guns firing, and it was over. a life, gone, just like that, concluded within 2 hours.

and this changed the interpretation of my role as a commander radically. my job is not to be the best leader of the best team there is. my job is to get my guys in and out safely. that's all. all that notion about nation about a greater good, about glory and honour - they mean nothing when a life is lost.

and it was when i truly understood the final lines of a poem that i learnt back in secondary school:

The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est Pro patria mori

after that, i proceeded to fall, and hurt my thumb in rcc, when through the course with an injured left thumb, graduated, got promoted, before i finally had my thumb checked out. turned out, i had torn my ligament, and i required surgery, which would have meant also a review in pes status. refused surgery, but had my hand placed in a cast for 6 weeks, and miraculously, my thumb mended (thank God) and so it was back to the battalion, back outfield. and then, the troopers came in.

it really is true when people say that you are never truly a leader until you have men under you. all those "leadership" lessons in command school went out of the window. instead, we had to learn to cajole, command and convict these peers of ours. it really is a humbling experience working with these guys, because of the love and respect they show you, even when they absolutely don't have to.

as much as being in a unit sucks, working with the rest of the specs, going through the same nonsense together, whining, being mischievous and smart asses together as well as working with the troopers must be the two most enjoyable experiences i have in 3 SIR.

then it was preparation for recce course with the troopers and of course, recce course with the troopers, where my team was named best tactical team (how did that happen), and myself best soldier of the month (how did that happen X2).

rotation one followed, and then it was army open house.

army open house is special for a few reasons.

for some reason unbeknownst to all of us, i was chosen to do the d3 show. i was attached out from my company which was doing marshalling and the likes to alpha, where i got a chance to meet and know so many people whom i either did not know well, or did not know at all.

significantly, i got to work, and interact with the riflemen, who like my own guys, without the burden of the rank upon their chests, without the incentive of getting to go to command school, without any evident reason for them to work so hard, i witnessed them go out of their way to get their job done well. i was touched by their willingness to teach me, a scout, their room clearing drills, drills that i had learnt in basic training, but forgotten.

everything, every single step on the contorted and winding path that i've taken have led me all the way here: to where i am today. from me not going to ocs, not getting into afc to be a pti, to me being one of the 14 out of more than a thousand cadets being posted to 3 SIR as a scout. to me being put out of course, then placed back in, to an injured thumb that could easily have saw me placed out of course again. to the miraculous healing of my thumb surprising even the doctors, to the troopers who were placed in my team, the ones who did so very well that earned us the best tactical team. to me hurting my ankle just a few weeks before the summery exercise of the recce course, with my ankle healing just in time for me to take part, and achieve the best tactical team. then, being named best soldier, most likely because of the brilliance of my troopers and finally, aoh.

so i'm thankful, for everything. for the things that didn't go "according to plan" when i didn't get the pti posting that i so wanted, for the things that went well and "according to plan", for the things that astounded everyone.  every single moment has brought me here.

what a journey it has been, and hell, there're still 9 more weeks to go.

my friends in LA they don't know where i've been for the past few years or so

well, it seemed appropriate that i should end 2011, in camp, doing guard duty since 2011 had been a year spent entirely in the army, being a soldier.

i was in the guard room, listening to the radio, as the host excitedly counted down from 2012, and when the moment came, 2012, my fellow guard remarked, 'no feeling eh?'.

to which i replied, 'i know right,' but hurried over to the rest room next door where there's a television set.

i was greeted by my guards were, in my opinion, determined to enjoy this moment, despite being stuck, as i was, in camp, doing duty. they were cheering, smiling, making the most of what they could, and the moment i entered, i was greeted with a cheerful 'happy new year!'.

i gave my guards 10 minutes to revel in the ushering in of 2012, some of them were on the phone, greeting their loved ones no doubt, before i pushed them off for the next shift of their duties.

such is life in the army. what must be done must be done, new year or not.

but what a year 2011 had been. saying that 2011 had been enjoyable would have been a stretch (i'm really glad that the year is gone), but 2011 wasn't without lessons and its silver linings.

life in the army is perhaps the most uncomfortable that i've ever been. i don't mean it in the physical sense per se (i used to NEED hot water to shower), but even mentally.

the physical demands of army are well-known, the long marches, heavy loads, lack of sleep, COLD SHOWERS (hahaha it took me a while to get used to that), the discomfit of being out in the field (which unfortunately for me, is somewhere that i find myself quite frequently), among others.

but the physiological aspects of dealing with NS are much more ambiguous. in the past, no matter what i did, i had (or at least i thought i had) a certain sort of self-assuredness, a kind of confidence in myself. even as i'm going through the worst storms, i could always tell myself that i'm better than that, and i always did.

but 2011 was the year that i felt depressed the most frequently, and there's little that one could do about it. the army decides for you, your vocation, your unit, your duties, your daily routine.

the marches are fine, the load is bearable, mud is just - mud - it doesn't hurt you, but it is the dread before all these that really messes one up.

booking in on sunday night is one of the most torturing times of the week, knowing that the week ahead promises plenty more uncomfortable moments, seeing the people around going about their daily lives, enjoying the last hours of the weekend, doing the simple things, totally oblivious to the struggle inside you.

i used to wonder why people would go AWOL, especially when the repercussions are severe.

but admittedly, there had been times this past year when going AWOL seemed so tempting.

the one thing that most people look most fondly back at NS is the companionship, and not without good reason, for we have found the best defense to combat the dread, and it is laughing at it, in spite of it, laughing at the face of shit that comes our way, together with the only other people who understand - those who are going through the exact difficulties as we are.

there was once when we had to literally crawl through a swamp, and as we were jumping in we were yelling, 'swamp si bo (swamp is it)?!'. crawling through a swamp sucks, have no doubt about it, and given a choice i wouldn't do it again, but somehow, it didn't seem so bad at that moment.

one thing though, that i hate more than anything else is being cold (no i'm not going on about cold showers still).

being cold outfield is one of the worst feeling ever, with your uniform damp from either perspiration and/or rain water and the chilly wind blowing against you - that sucks so damn much, and only those who are from the combat vocations, those who have to rough it out in the field would truly share my sentiment.

being a scout (one of the tougher vocations), posted in an active unit (the worst place one can go as an NSF), a 3rd sergeant (many say its that worst rank), i am terribly busy with life in camp. i book out on saturdays and book in on sundays (that is if i don't have weekend duties that week), my social life is non-existant, and i don't get to play nearly as much football as i would have liked, once a week if i'm lucky, i far cry from the days when i can play football everyday of the week, twice, if i'm lucky.

and i often wonder at my friends who are attached, how do they do it? we have so little free time of our own as it is, how do they find time for one another? and if their answer is with the time between saturday and sunday, how do they find time for their own interests? and the answer is normally that they don't.

one of the things that i like to do most during my book out time (apart of football of course), is to just chill out at home. almost everyday of the week i spend hustling and bustling in camp, and in my free time, all i want to do is to shut down, maybe play some starcraft, watch some movies, check out youtube.

and it is then that i'm really thankful that i'm don't have a girlfriend now, that i have my time for myself, that i don't have any obligations to fulfill to anyone when i book out.

but it is nice, to have someone to listen to you rant about the injustice of it all (believe me, there're plenty of injustice in the army), to share the pride for a job well done, just to have someone there for you, but it'd be terribly selfish of me, to want al these 'perks' of being attached while being reluctant to give up my football time.

and then, 2011 was the year that death becomes real to me. first, my uncle succumbed to throat cancer after a long battle. and then, my friend who is just a year older that i simply collapsed and died, and his death shook me.

i don't really want to write more about this matter, but i remember thinking, at my uncle's funeral:

what is life, that at the end of it all, all the deeds, the victories and defeats it all encapsulated in a wooden box, though handsome, yet is so small. my uncle had a larger than life kind of personality, yet even he, looked diminished.

the bright yellow chrysanthemum, the loud wailing music, the out-pouring of grief from the loved ones, sobbing - all juxtaposed sharply against my uncle who was lying serenely, smart in his black suit. so too the toddlers fidgeting in their mothers arms, blissfully unaware, smiling and cooing.

the only two people at the funeral who are oblivious to everything else are the one that life had just forsakened, and the one that life had just embraced.

one of the better things that happened over the past year is that i learnt how to drive, and my first ride is a benz j 4 wheel drive, and drivinf off road is sooo fun.

and then, close to the end of the year, there was you are the apple of my eye. best film this year. 'nuff said.

that was my 2011 (somewhat) i'm just writing down whatever comes to mind, and good life feels pretty apt to end everything with, since its been some kinda theme song to army for me.

成长, 最残酷的部分就是; 女孩永远比同年龄的男孩成熟女孩的成熟没一个男孩招架的住.

a smile in an old photograph

there's something that hits so close to home, that feels so familiar. i know about this.

there's nothing that i can write here that had not already been written, but 22 years old, and there've been many lessons learnt, and this, must surely been one of the biggest, one of the most painful, but probably one of the most important.