After years of self searching and pondering, coupled with life experiences, I have no doubts my one of my defining character traits was competitiveness. I just bloody hate to lose. I am a super bad loser. I've cried before when my team lost in a soccer game. As such, I am able to project all my mental and physical energies when I have somebody or someone to compete with.
I think when you break it down it is all vanity. A kind of ego validation. But whatever it is, the unwillingness to be second best is fuelling my SOF ambitions.
And SOF is about being a winner. On the battlefield, it pays to be the winner; your life. Losers die. SOF wants winners. Or at least people who wants to win.
The selection is modelled such that winners get that extra bit of incentive, people who don't make the cut go for an extra round of PT, extra round of run. And the feeling of 'securing' each evolution for the first time round is extremely comforting. Just think: you have just been pushed to the brink of exhaustion trying to meet the timing, you don't, and have to be subjected to another round of harrassment, worse still, run back to the start point, like so many of us has experienced in the endless run evolution.
But, I don't just want to secure do I? I want to be the first one. And going by all the indications, I am in fact the strongest when it comes to running and all endurance related events. So I want to continue to be the first. Because in that way, I push a bit harder, takes away the pain. No, it focuses all the pain into one meaningful agenda; to be the first, making it bearable.
Nightfall, back to the grind. This time its something called the 'tyre PT'. We were led in under the weird glare of yellow street lights to an obscure corner of the commando camp. The usual suspects were all there. The instructors were standing intidimatingly behind a row of four big black rover tyres.
"The name of the game is tyre PT." The conducting instructor boomed. "You will sling yourself with the rope attached to the tyre and you will run as fast as possible in the direction we indicate. Now stand behind the tyres."
The only thing that was running through my mind, and I am sure everyone was thinking the same thing was there are seven of us, yet there are four tyres? Would one of us be the odd one out with one tyre???
Not much time to ponder. In a moment of gungho-ness or folliness I jumped to the single tyre. "Oh 068 is very hungry, he wants the doughnut all by himself." Hahaha its good to know the instructors retain their jolly mood. No one is laughing though.
Mind games the instructors like to play. The conducting instructor proceeded to ask Lionel who he wants to 'sabo' for the single man tyre. Lionel hesitated for a long time. But I gave him the look. I thought I should take it anyway. Its a strange moment but it wasn't so much as a selfless sacrifice, but it was a selfish thought to take on the toughest challenge. And a small voice at the back of my head was nudging me to take on the single man tyre as it would get a lot of instructors off my back; they won't kick a man when they are down.
Well what do you know, another twist to the story. "One of you will pull the tyre and the other one will sit on the tyre." I can't believe what I'm hearing and was trying very hard to suppress my glee. Soon we are off! And I didn't need the instructors to remind me that it is a competition, its every team or in my case man for himself.
I was of course off to a flying start with my empty tyre. Some instructors were sniggering about how lucky I was. Barely 5 meters off the starting line. One of the SOF instructors declared "let me help you 068!" and jumped right unto my tyre.
You cannot imagine how heavy it was and the contrast between an empty tyre and a loaded tyre just made the effort more pronounced. My thighs were loaded and I was pulling with all my might but the tyre just wouldn't budge. I can't look behind but i swear he is making everything much harder by grabbing unto something or dragging his boots on the ground. My misery is compounded by the fact that all the other teams are racing past me because the person on the tyre is helping them push along.
But he did the right thing and I won't want it any other way. I don't want any advantage over anyone else whatsoever. I wasn't keen on slowing down and wait for them so that they won't look so bad or get punished lesser either. Earlier in the bunk, there was suggestions by experienced SOF selectees of us taking turns to lose so that we all take turns to rest. I wasn't so big on the idea. Thats asking me to be somebody I am not. Not giving my all, waiting for someone else. Does it help teamwork, encourage solidarity? I don't think so. I would understand helping one another when in need, but when it is every man for himself, then there is no teamwork. Whats more it would just be cheating the selection, but I guess it was different cuts and different strokes. If that was the common consensus I am not about to rock the boat either.
Anyway at this point of time all these strategy was thrown out of the window. My world just revolves around the rope tightly wounded on my shoulder, the weight I feel on my shoulder, back, and legs, and every excruciating step/ crawl.
After awhile I just got to the groove of things. When the instructor is just sitting on it, I can still stand on my legs and move forward with a diagonal forward lean; if there are some other instructor pulling on the tyre or the rope, or the instructor sitting on the tyre starts to give me problems, I will need to go on my all fours and start crawling, inching my way forward. The best thing is sometimes instructors help me along. It is tremendously encouraging when you are in hell; in pain and everyone is screaming in your mind how much of a loser you are, how you would fail and die terribly; the voice that says you are doing well and hang in there just sounds like it is from a saint; when that happens, I try my best to sprint and fly as far as I could. Because you will not be in heaven forever; very soon you will descend back in hell where some instructor will be pulling against your rope and once again, more often than not, I am back on all fours.
Its just pain and toil, at the back of my mind I am just focused on the instructor standing in front and indicating the way, on my peripheral vision I see others struggling and I thought I just want to beat them.....
I remember distinctly at the rear gate of the commado camp, about 300 meters away from where we started, I caught up with the leading tyre. They were stuck with some instructors harrassing them. 'This is it...' I thought, and I powered past them. I was pretty much in the lead from then on. But the biggest challenge was yet to come; a 200 meters slope just in front of me. Tyre, man, and now slope. I was jerking my way up. Thats the only way the tyre would budge; jerk by jerk, inch by inch. The world melted away. The pain is actually spuring me on. Some animalistic brutality of raging against the pain in my right shoulder took over me. Fear of becoming number two took over me. The reliance of God and His strength took over me. As I inched towards the top of the slope, my brain was a chaotic blur of these three different forces. At the top of the slope I could barely register the instructor's instructions of telling us to go back downslope. Suddenly, my tyre was empty! I almost fell forward from the sudden lack of resistance and increase in speed. I was bewildered for a moment.... "Hey get back into my tyre! Are you kiddin me?? is this fair??" My brain shouted. It was a split second of hesitation and then I ran... I ran like a man possessed! I sprinted downslope so no instructor would be able to catch me.
At the corner of my eye as I sprinted, I could still see my mates struggling at the slope, with many instructors surrounding them like devils pulling and toying at the eternal suffering souls in hell; and I am Constantine, running away from it all. I sprinted all the way to the finishing line. Once again, I was first, I was the winner.
The second place team and I got to take a respite while the others had to go for a second round of torture. It was an uneasy respite, with instructors staring and taunting us. We even had to shout "Winners stay losers pay! You are the loser and we are the winners!" at the teams that were still struggling. It didn't feel good. We were on our edge all the time, fearing some creative torture by the instructors.
Winners or not, everyone was mustered, after their second round, infront of a tall building built like a fire brigand. With large metal grilled doors that roll up from the floor. And in a dramatic fashion, the metal doors slowly lifted itself, ala terminator entrance scene. We saw the biggest MOFO tyre in our life. No freaking way we are going to be able to move that 5 tonner tyre!!!
Well impossible is exactly what they like to put upon us. Soon I was again at my all fours, my boots grinding into the rocky ground and the ropes digging into my screaming shoulders. It doesn't seem to move. Instructors continue to be angels that give us a boost and devils that drag at our feet. My world is once again two meters in front of me and depths of pain within me.
About fifty meters in, the instructors let us on a deal, if we can drag the stupid tyre back to the shed by 5 minutes then the torture would stop. Whatever works for them I thought. To me it doesn't matter. I'm in some kind of strange place where I feel like a bull, working in a farm. I'd go on pulling forever until someone releases the rope from my shoulder.
I've always kept in mind a phrase that I remembered in a show "this too shall end." However painful it is. It will end. I'm feeling fine actually. The night has ended...
OR SO WE THOUGHT! This is turning out to be one of the longest night.
Barely half an hour after we returned to our bunks, the siren rang again. Up, down, left, right and center. Countless of static PT, changing in and out of uniforms, and running around like mad dogs, we were hauled into a vehicle and transported somewhere. I remember one of the instructors saying, "gentleman prepare to get wet again. And take out your garters; you think the pool evolution was over??" I started to believing what he was saying. I can't do the thread water again!" The amazing thing was your how easily confused you can be when your are that exhausted. This mental state you read about, but you just can't imagine how it would be.
We were transported to a nearby slope. It was raining cats and dog by then. I was nursing a growing urge to pee. It was the legendary "tonner" PT, where we had to push a tonner along a stretch of road. And so the 7 of us huffed and puffed against the 1.5 tonned truck. It started moving for awhile until it reached a slope. It just refused to bulge. I learnt that sometimes the instructors put on the handbrake for the vehicle!! Whatever is is, I just know one thing, "push push". "Two -six push! two-six push!" was all that went through my mind. That, and the all consuming desire to pee. Instructors watched us like a hawk, taunting us, insulting us, "0XX is very good at acting! Taking a break while everyone is pushing so hard!" Yogi got the worst. Being the strongest guy, he got the most stick. I don't know why though. I can only imagine the instructors are picking on him to try to break his mind down. Sometimes instructors would help us push a bit, sometimes they will put on the handbrake. Other times they would slap our hands to see if we are slacking. But the truck just wouldn't budge up the slope. In fact, several times, i slipped down and I can almost imagine myself crushed beneath the wheel.
The raging rain, deafening thunder, screaming and shouting added to the dramatic effect. Took away the pain actually.
The top of the slope, the end point, looks so faraway. The instructors sounded so disappointed that we couldn't make it. We were so disappointed. We were told to get lost because of our incompetence. Mind games, halfway through running back to our getaway vehicle, we were called back to try again. Screw it, i'll pee in my pants. Can't take it anymore. Luckily the rain covered up the warm yellow liquid flowing against my thighs. What a relief I must say. With a renewed vigor I pushed against the truck. No help actually. We struggled against it for another 30 minutes then they told us to load up this mammoth we are pushing.
The night is officially over.
It must have been 3am in the morning.
2 more days.
