Leonel asked me an interesting question outside the little studio where we took Rock and Roll lessons from Facundo. "What did you learn from your time in the Army?" I remember giving some lame answer like, "It had taught me how not to complain and accept the best of the situation, how was it like to know my limits etc..." The answer did not feel satisfying at all, neither did it feel justified.
Now, sitting alone in my home, with the luxury of all the time in the world, George Micheal's Jesus to a Child and quietly reflecting on the lessons in life Army taught me, I will attempt at a better answer to that question.
It feels so long ago. I joined the army ten years ago and I left the army two and a half years ago. I had changed much since then. Let me see if I can even get into the state of mind of a soldier and officer.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was April 1999. At the tender age of 18, after junior college, after spending all my life in the warm cares of my family, I was enlisted in the army. I was to stay 3 months in Basic Military Training Centre (BMTC), with only weekends for visiting the outside world, they call it 'book-out'. To make things more daunting, we were not able to 'book-out' for the first two weeks we enlist. BMTC was an offshore island called Pulau Tekong, the ferry from the island to mainland was around 15 minutes, but the isolation felt at that time was we were in a world away.
Sleeping quarters were divided as 'section quarters', twelve of us slept in spartan conditions. We had a metal framed bed, metal cupboard and a small little wooden shelf. We were all processed, given number tags and called by the name of 'Recruit (sirname)'. Yours truly was 'Recruit Ho'.
From the very first moment when we entered the military world, our young civilian life was being ripped away by the entire military system. They meant business because although it was a conscript army, the regular full-time core of commanders was strong enough for the system to be professional.
There is no way around it. Every single healthy Singaporean teenage boy has to go through this, two and a half years in the army. The faster one adapts to his new circumstances the easier it is to enjoy and make each day meaningful.
I had always been curious to experience new surroundings, I remember fondly the times when I was a kid spending nights at my local cousins' homes or going overseas and staying away in China for a month in my relatives' homes.
Plus my dad and I had a very strained relationship, he wanted the best for me but somehow, growing up, I was not able to live up to his expectations of a hardworking, sensible, conservative eldest son. He was not able to live with my antics neither. I would often feel unwanted or persecuted at home. Things got to a point where a good night at home would mean that he would had not noticed me and not utter insults at me.
So the army was an outlet for me to finally live away from home; all on my own.
Like most other young boys, I took very well to guns, explosions and violence. Often the idea of 'Rambo', heroes who did good with their physical prowess and specifically through military might attracted me. That time when I was enlisted, 'Saving Private Ryan' was showing and it quickly became my favourite show.
Once again, the idea of enlisting into army began to excite me, as I am sure the same way it would excite many young boys, like some sort of fantasy adventure and master class to learn how to become a fighting machine; a modern weapons expert.
Lastly at that time I had just been dumped by a girl in after a brief one month relationship. I was feeling quite rueful; sorrow and pain always has a way of making me more focus and more determined.
So unlike a lot of my peers, I was more than mentally prepared to leave my outside life and embrace this new one.
My first night on the little spartan bed, as I lay in bed trying to sleep, I kept hearing planes flying overhead, Changi International Airport was nearby and every 10 minutes I could hear one plane fly overhead. "Ironic." I remember thinking to myself, how can one so imprisoned be listening to the sound of something so free? Every sound of the airplane is a little stick jabbing in the ribs taunting us about our situation.
Physically I was always a very healthy and athletic kid. Participating in various sports and even representing my secondary school in middle distance running. But Basic Military Training was the first time in my life where daily activities revolved around physical training; performance grading and how other people judge you is dependant on your physical fitness in a very direct basis. The faster runners in the platoon are most highly regarded, the ones that could do most pull-ups were marvelled. Physical prowess determined how tough your life would feel or how relaxed it would feel.
I remember my first day, all of us young boys had just arrived on the military premises. We were still in our civilian clothes. We sat in the parade square with our backpack of clothes, listening wide-eyed at the briefing by the man in green uniform standing in front of us. Suddenly, as soon as the briefing ended, we were ordered into a pushup position due to some infringement of rules. "Knock it down!!!" The man in green barked. Facing down towards the ground, I thought half grinning to myself, 'Welcome to the Army.'
These first days introduced a total new world for me. Even as growing up I would look forward to the first introductions; first day of school, first day of the year, first time meeting new people and making new friends. Amidst the shock of the new environment and new system of life, new faces also tooked some time to get use to, although much less painful.
One big categorizing factor in the life of the a Singapore kid was his/her education. The type of school, the results and the prestige of his/her education often determines the type of friends he/she makes. For example if one comes from a special stream from one of the top schools like Raffles Institute or Hwa Chong, he would definitely have a very different circle of friends, with very different style and substance of interaction; as compared to a normal stream student from an ordinary neighbourhood school. For entertainment the Raffles Institute group might talk about 'Magic Game Cards' which costs about 10SGD per card, while the group from the neighbourhood school might talk about going to the nearby street soccer court for a kickabout.
But the army is a place where most young boys leave this sheltered, one sided, skewed level of social networkings to a melting pot of characters. Boys from all levels of education background are mixed together. And a pure english speaking St Joseph Institute chinese boy would have to contend about understanding a Changkat Changi hokkien speaking chinese boy; and we are not even speaking about communication between different races!
Community living was the main lesson in these days, there were sideways and upwards responsibilities. Towards fellow recruits we would need to take care of each other, then upwards responsibilities towards our sergeants, platoon sergeants, platoon commander and then our god, the company commander.
Volunteering and going out of your way towards helping out other people became a powerful way to establish oneself; volunteering to do more, extra. We were recruits, 'the lowest life form' as our sergeants would often call us. Indeed there was no downwards responsibility attached to us. The only people we really need to take care of was ourselves.
For the observant and the initiated, it was a real exercise in social dynamics. After the initial psychological settling in, one starts to be aware of his individuality in this new system; everyone began to form his own objective for his three month Basic Military Training stint. Some just want to pass and become a normal foot soldier, or a desk bound job at some military headquarters for the next two years, many of us would be posted to the specialist corps to train and become future sergeants. But the most honourable prize at the end of this three months BMT course was Officer Cadet School (OCS): where future military officers are trained.
Out of a platoon of around 45 recruits, only around 3 to 5 gets to attend OCS. The criteria for choosing would be based on leadership, fitness and soldiering skills shown during BMT course. For a lot of us young boys, this was a great honour. In the platoon two distinct group starts to form out: The achievers ('Siao On' - hokkien for 'crazily enthusiastic') and the black sheep. The achievers would be the group of boys who would do everything to the best and display great enthusiasm in order to learn, and demonstrate their worthiness for OCS. The black sheep would be the boys still unaccepting army life and their main aim would be to try take the easiest way out possible. Yours truly was the former group.
Gene was a great guy in our platoon. He was an National Cadet Corps (NCC) platoon sergeant in his secondary school days, extremely fit, full of military knowledge, and possess a natural charisma with great leadership. He would always be smiling, helping out with duties and a friend to everyone. We became fast friends and I was extremely motivated by his enthusiasm. I remember during interval trainings, he would band a group of us who were all motivated to go to OCS, as we sprint across the finishing line he would lead us to shout, "OCS!". It was easy for the general body of recruits to dislike people who always shine, show extraodinary enthusiasm or superiority over the rest, but Gene, for his charisma and sincere exuberance, was well-liked by all.
Another outstanding recruit was Vijay. He had dark shining skin, large round eyes. Physically very fit, he was the fastest 2.4km runner of the entire company. Always beaming and ready to help, mild temperance which belies his fierce countenance; not once he lost his temper. If Gene was a naturally charismatic leader in a passionate, fiery way; Vijay was one who leads quietly by example and with whom the other weaker recruits could relate and feel close to.
The lines in the army are clearer and more sharply distinguished than the real world. Honesty and righteousness were always rewarded, dishonesty and skivving were always punished. This was the same for most brotherhood or monastic societies, where there are a strict adherence of codes; and the military codes are often in line with the moral codes to be a man. Justice, moral strength, courage, professionalism and discipline, etc. For me that was a great time in my life for character building.
I am one of the least disciplined and responsible man I know. And in the army, two things kept me in line and made me learn how to take up more responsibilities. 1. The regimental structure of the system: any breach of discipline is severly punished. 2. The inherent desire to be the best soldier I can be, so I can get into OCS.
Physical stress can causes some of the most uncomfortable and painful sensations a human being can feel. As a recruit it was the most powerful deterent and most direct punishment tool. Countless pushups, running non-stop, duck walk, endless situps. That was the first time I felt the precious value of being physically fit. I had weak arms and I could only do 5 pullups when I entered army. Every other night, at around 9pm when fellow platoon mates are resting comfortably in the bunk, on their beds, I, along with other weak platoon mates had to do half an hour of extra training with our sergeants.
Not that I minded that extra training; I had been caught by my platoon sergeant in the middle of the night doing weights alone after 'lights-out' (sleeping) timing. I nearly got the platoon into trouble that time (I did in my OCS days but that's another story). I got to learn that I personally get a lot of drive and motivation from overcoming a seemingly insurmountable obstacle, from overcoming my own weakness. I also learnt that I hate appearing weak in front of the others. On the flipside I also realised I had a slight disdain towards weak individuals; not physically weak people per se, but those who are weak in the mind.
Because it was also during those days that I understood the power of human determination. At the end of the BMT course there was a 24km route march. No matter how fit one is, the shock of a carrying a 15kg backpack, with helmet on the head, a rifle on the shoulder and walking for 24km is tremendous. The very first time we trained for a 4km route march, I almost thought I would die from the suffering I experienced in my body, I was thinking at that time, "How horrifying and impossible would it be, to go through the same thing 6 times non stop!?"
But in the end, one does it, they always do. Every single recruit from the platoon marched 24km; everytime one of us felt like giving up and stopping, somewhere somehow, from within himself or from his fellow friends, he finds that extra inch to go on. Not only we finished a 24km overnight march, we finished at the BMTC parade square and stood motionless for 20 minutes with the pain and tiredness warcking in our body and the packs on our back, listening to some Colonel finish a speech that marks the passing out from our recruit stage of life. The human body does not fall as long as the spirit does not fall.
It was the first time I understood; we underestimate ourselves sometimes; we underestimate desire, determination. I am capable of so many things I once thought was too painful, too impossible to do.
Even more amazing were our superiors. I remember these interval trainings, route marches and field camps, while the recruits were all suffering, our platoon commanders, platoons sergeants and sergeants participated and did the same things with an assuming air of nonchalance. How could they manage? Where did they find the strength? In fact my platoon commander was just one year older than us! What we did with so much effort and pain, they went around doing like another day at the job. Once again, the power of the state of mind and the way the body and spirit adapts to hardship.
I had not learnt the true magnitude of human spirit over hardship then; it was still early days, I would later learn the extreme levels in throughout my army years. But those were the first inkling of consciousness over this fierce determination which I would term 'mental limits'.
18 years old was also the transition years from adolesence to manhood. I remember looking at my company commander, all 1.9m hulk of a man, broad shoulders and square jaw, he was 30 years old. He was a 'Guards' captain. The nickname for 'Guardsmen' were 'sandbags' because they wore khaki coloured berets. He had large round eyes and a booming voice; and the way he walked chest puffed up and pencil straight with large powerful strides, his biceps seem to be bursting out from his green uniform.
The recruits used to be in awe of him. There was one time during a grenade throwing exercise conducted by our platoon commanders, he was walking by, did not like what he saw and he boomed out, "You guys throw worse than my grandmother!" He took a dummy grenade and hurled it almost halfway across a football field. I looked at him and thought to myself that was a presence and power of a real man.
Captain Sandbags cuts a mean and intimidating figure. In my platoon there was a friendly and cheerful guy. He was skinny and pale and looked like he had bones that would brittle and crack with just a rugby tackle. His name was 'Lee Teng Hui'. Everyone remember him because that time Taiwan had a president by the same name. During one fieldcamp, where we learned the basic field combat skills of 'fire and movement', Captain Sandbags was overseeing the exercise. Lee Teng Hui led a half hearted charge and Captain Sandbags was unto him like a wild hound. He shook Teng Hui and reprimanded him. Without so much of a shout, Teng Hui started crying. I remember thinking to myself, "Was it really that scary? Maybe that was the difference between men and boys?" (Later on when I became a commander and a trainer myself, I would make boys cry too.)
But yes, these men that walked about the military premises, they were not only great due to the fact that we recruits idolized them. On hindsight a great magnitude of their apparent greatness was due to our starry-eyed way of looking at them. But some of them, like Captain Sandbags really had a piercing gaze which came from deep down inside their core; which seems to say, "I have an inner strength that is greater than most mere men. I know it for a fact because I had been through hell." And I would find this look in many army men and commanders for the rest of my army tour. I remember thinking to myself, "one day, I'll want to get the same look in the eye."
The acid test for a recruit's leadership skills and hence suitability for OCS was called the Situational Test or Sit Test for short. It happened during the last day of a four day field camp. We will form into sections of 10 men and go through stations where the empire would tell us a scenario with a series of obstacles, for example - a river is in the way and the section needs to cross to the opposite bank. Some materials like wooden planks would be available to us and a leader would be choosen amongst us to navigate our way through the obstacles using devices constructed by these raw materials.
I remember asking my National Police Cadet Corps (NPCC) mate Meiyan to teach how to tie knots. Beautiful Meiyan was a great NPCC leader during our secondary school years and she was one of the most knowledgable police cadet during our time.
During the Sit Test the knowledge about knot-tying came in handy and a lot of the knots were tied by me. As such, I was useful enough to the team and be noticed by the empire assessing our performance. That was when I was first aware of team dynamics; how to be a good leader and how to be a good follower, they were equally important. Most importantly how not to be an 'indian chief'. We called someone an indian chief when he tried to lead or help for the purpose of showing himself up when his leadership or help was not appropriate.
Time flew by quickly, especially when field camps came around. Field camps were a great way to spend time. For sure it was tiring, for sure it was dirty. But the camaraderie experienced within the platoon, the adventure in the wild, the camping experience and the whole military war simulation was a hell lot of fun!
The first time our sergeant threw a thunderflash making a loud bang in our direction, and we all had to turn immediately to our right, forming a line and charge into the bushes firing our M16s; with the putrid firepowder smell, tired legs and thick green camouflage makeup on our faces; those moments beat going to fake arcade games like 'laser quest' anytime.
How about those times out in the field, where we had leaves and mud and dirt around us. The entire section gathered together and cooking awful tasting army combat rations. Those were strange times as the combination of hardships and the stripping away of modern creature comforts made men relate to one another in a more honest spiritual way; even the awful combat rations tasted delicious!
Then time spent in the BMTC training quarters - our bunks - were little oasis in the desert; little islands in the sea of suffering. Boys laid around topless, in the sweltering Tekong heat, talking about our girlfriends, the army training, lying on our beds and resting, doing nothing, waiting for time to pass; these unique days of male bonding would always be dear to me.
One thing I learnt is never to bitch. Always stay positive, no matter how hard the training is, how bad the punishments are. We all hated the negative guy, hated to listen to him complain. no one likes it. And as always, the negative guy defeats himself, loses enthusiasm and drive to accomplish tasks and suffers more in the meantime, making him more negative; a vicious cycle.
The best amongst us, like Gene, Vijay, they even had the strength to encourage people, help people when the chips are down. They were my role models. It was also in the army I began to realise the facade of 'goodness'. When things are going easy, in a civilian setting, everyone can be Mr Nice over tea and coffee. But when you are out in the field, three days, eating army rations, with the rain beating down and sergeant hollering on you, fullpack on your back, rifle over your shoulder; when you feel so much like shit about yourself, that is the time where you face your true character, that is the time to see if you can still be Mr Nice to others, can you still help, can you still think logically, can you still be tolerant, be useful, be positive?
I remember in BMTC, I never complained, because I never had the cause to. I loved the life, even the punishments I took it as a kind of training, in mind and body. I was friendly and cheerful; and I had boundless enthusiasm and energies. I realised when you do everything 100% it often feel better than doing it less, and it makes the thing easier than if you put in less effort and heart. But I also found out I was not by nature an inspiring leader, like Gene or Vijay; I was more like a joker in the pack.
One friend said to me, "YY you are an excellent soldier, more suitable as a soldier than a commander." I did not mind that at all, in fact I agreed.
Nevertheless I still dreamt of OCS and come end of the course, I was amongst the better recruits in the platoon. Peer appraisal towards the end of the course presented another side of our humanity. Everyone had to rank the platoon members from the first to the last, the top few will get to OCS. It was very much like the voting council of the reality show 'Survivors'. People started to use friendship and favours to get that ranking that he wanted.
There was one particular guy, extremely arrogant, we all hated him throughout the course. But he begged us to put him high up in the ranking because, "I need to go to OCS to fulfil my pilot dream." He even washed the toilet all by himself for the few days leading up to the peer appraisal, just to prove a point. It was quite a pathetic show, some of us including me quietly thought he was very pitiful. Of course he did not get to OCS in the end, I think his ranking amongst the platoon mates was very low.
Some of us really deserved to get in but did not. Gene was one of them. He was devastated. We later learnt he was arrested as a youth for some fighting before; the government does not treat such records kindly. Everyone in the company expected him to go. I remember I was very sad for him and told him not to give up hope as he was going to the Specialist Course for Sergeants, and very good performers from that course will get to join OCS midway. But that was the first time I felt the perceived injustice of the system. Or at least the helplessness of a system so huge that I could not understand.
It was a lot of growing up in the short three months of BMT. I got to OCS eventually but a big reason was because I signed on with the army under the 'Local Study Award' study grant. I remember my platoon commander commending me on a good result and wishing me all the best for the upcoming nine months of OCS.
His last words to me were, "If you think BMT is tough you ain't see nothing yet, in OCS you are appraised everyday, judged every single activity. And in this platoon. Gene, Vijay, you and the few are the motivated ones. In OCS every single one in the platoon is as motivated if not more than you, and it is your job to be better than them.
"Oh and by the way, expect lots of sleepless nights." He winked as he sent me through the door. I did not know what he meant. I would find out soon enough.
