Diary Of An NSman 2

24th January 2005: Lights Out, Guerilla Radio
Ever since booking back in on Sunday, life has been like a Geylang streetwalker at 2 in the morning - fucked.

I was hoping it'd be more like a Geylang street at 10 at night - full of hope, vigour; knowing that at the end of it all, I'm satisfied. And richer.

But no, morale dipped as we left our civilian illusions to return to the military culture that our Constitution has shoved up our noses.

25th January 2005: Sick People In Hospitals Are Called...
I always thought NS would just be one long P.E lesson. In Hokkien.

But no, it's been one long tragedy where all forms of logic snuffs it.

This week, it's like the sergeants, the officers and the PTIs (Physical Training Instructors) had a meeting and one of them said, "We need a new catchphrase. 'You think you very funny is it?' is getting old."

Another one (I shan't mention names) must have said, "My, my, won't you touch my penis."

The guy who is usually in-charge (shan't give you names here neither) is VERY likely to mishear and said, "What? Test my patience? Yeah that's good, that's good."

"I didn't say that."

"HUH? WHAT? You said something?"

This week, all of them kept going, "Don't test my patience." Like in PT (physical training), they'd go like, 'Okay give us 15 rows in 10 seconds.'"

And of course, in accordance to logic and the limits of human mobility, the 200 or so of us Scorpion company recruits were unable to form 15 rows in 10 seconds.

The bugger in charge would then yell like a girl at a Backstreet Boys concert, "Sloppy movement Scorpion company! You all don't test my patience ah..."

We'd speed up all we can, banging into one another in the process, but the heartless beast would nonetheless say, "Scorpion company, you've tested my patience enough. Whole lot knock it down!"

Fuck. What patience?

29th January 2005: Fieldcamp Day 1
Man, what did we do today?

One, we marched 8 kilometres to the campsite (which is a very eerie-looking abandoned rubber plantation). See, stupid thing is, the campsite's just 4km away from BMTC School 2 (Basic Military Training Centre School 2, where I'm stationed). What we did was march 4 km in a circle, ending up back at BMTC. Then from there, we marched another 4 km to the rubber plantation. Just so that we'll march 8 stinking kilometres.

When we got there, we went on to set up our makeshift tents, or bashas in army language.

(Side note: Army language is weird. Here's a brief breakdown of Army language:
Makeshift tent - basha
Identity card - 11B
Shop - E-mart
Free time - Admin time
Terrible work - Half-fuck job
'Listen to me' - 'Fuck you'
'You're not allowed to do that' - 'Go suck cock'
'Turn your attention here, recruit' - 'Eh Chow cheebye!')

After that, we had outdoor lectures on judging distances and formatting of range cards. Can't tell you much about them, wasn't really listening. At night, we had a powder bath. YES, bathing in powder, since the SAF are stingy bitches when it comes to water in field camps. I'm going to have to do that for the entire camp except for the 4th day, in which we'll finally get to bathe with divine fluid water.

But well screw hygiene. My biggest complaint is that I can't have my compulsary external social life here. Another big complaint is that my basha mate is doing this very scary cross between snoring and mumbling. Other than that, hey, I'm enjoying all this, with my rifle and my buddy and me...

1st February 2005: Fieldcamp Day 4
People have a lot of names for me that in no way sound like Suffian. My primary school classmates called me Dodo Bird. Why? Because everytime they asked me a question, I'd be too lazy to answer them, so I say, "Don't know." And 'don't know' sounds like well, 'Dodo'. So yeah...
Most people I know who come across me relate me to Mr. Bean. Don't ask why. It's something about the way I talk and the way I behave.
My mother calls me Idiot. Something about not listening to her or something like that. Wasn't really listening.
As of last night, my platoon mates have to add another name to that list. It's Platoon I/C.

Fer shizzle man, thay made me platoon in-charge. Which means the only nice thing about this camp from now on will be the water we'll get to shower with later, the camaraderie among 18-year-old boys in the jungles of Pulau Tekong, and the cloudless, starry nightsky they have over here.

Everything else will be one crazy blur of push-ups and fuck-yous...