Sometimes, on the train, little bits of the big picture suddenly hit me. It feels almost like an out-of-body experience - you see yourself floating over your office, observing interactions and behaviours, and you suddenly know just how to fix your MT Line and make it work. Then comes the 'doing' part, and you realise you need a new roster of personnel to carry out your plans.
Point being, an MTO's job is the perfect stepping stone to middle management. You deal with ground people, you deal witht admin people, you deal with people with far more experience than you, you deal with subordinates and bosses. You have the chance to try out different styles of management, and actually have some breathing space for trial and error (thanks, all you driving udes, for being such wonderful guinea pigs). And I believe I will come out of it feeling like I've seen a whole new side of the world.
if you don't work on the combat side, you would have realised that the Army is alot like the corporate world in quite a few ways. Don't waste your 1.5 years in there. Think about what you want to do with your future, then find someone whose NSF job description closely fits the bill (preferably in your own department, of course). Shadow him, find out how he does things, figure out all teh problems he faces, and think about how you would solve them. Watch how he solves them, and see the pros and cons of his decisions. You will come out half-ready for whatever you want to do.
For instance, here I'm trying out different ways of handling drivers. I have tried talking nicely to some of them, to hear things from their perspective, but some of their POVs are so childish I am at a loss for words when talking to them. Next week, I will try the harsh method. The week after that I may try the old method - break them down, build them up. We'll see which works best. I'll get back to you on that.
The same goes for the customers. Reject their unreasonable requests outright, try the sweet-talk method, whatever works for you and your department. These are decisions you will be making out there - no harm trying it out here.
Don't just focus on making things work in your unit - think about how to make things work in your future company as well. I believe the government calls this lifelong learning. It sounds corny but there is a real point to it.
I'm sorry for spamming this place with so many MTO posts. Personally I would like to see many more MP, storemen, signaller, mortar pl etc posts. Especially the thign sthat go on in otehr logistics and upper management camps. Anyone from MINDEF?
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Saturday, June 18, 2005
Ecstasy of a Parade
If you had applied for the NDP parade or preview tickets, and you have yet to receive a phone call by the end of today, your chances of winning the ticket is extremely remote to say the least. I should know better, I'm part of the team that was and still is fielding the phone calls to successful applicants. I nearly got my weekend burnt as a result, bar escaping via a fortunate rescheduled medical appointment yesterday. My friends are still stuck in camp, trying to contact people who left numbers that are uncontactable (don't ask me why they have to keep trying, try protocol).
It was an amazing experience being a telephone operator for an entire day, trying to field 200 calls, encountering all kinds of people. Even though it got weary as the day progressed, I maintained my courteous tone throughout my conversations, though it was quite amusing to see one of my platoon-mates talking to the person on the other line as he would to an ah beng friend. I now know its not easy being a telemarketer, or a telephone operator for that matter.
It was also an eye opener to hear the sheer elation of getting a pair of tickets to the preview, (yes just the preview only!), the nonchalant reactions, to the disappointment of a dad, who had wanted to bring his 4 year old infant and his wife along (yes I was sorry I couldn't help him).
Then of course there was this guy who seemed more like I was chasing him for bill payments:
(After confirmation of his IC number ...)
"Congratulations Sir, you have been allocated two NDP preview tickets"
"No no no!"
Click. Phone slammed on me.
(After consultation with my officer, tried again after 15 minutes)
"Afternoon sir, I called earlier about the NDP tickets"
"No no no, don't call me again."
Click. Great.
Overall, what can I say? It seems the perception that Singaporeans are not courteous seems unfounded, for most that I called were extremely polite, other than say one or two teenagers who couldn't care less. It also striked me how so many people got so ecstatic that they had simply received just two tickets to the preview, almost such that I'm ashamed of myself I couldn't care a hoot about the national day parade we servicemen spend so much work preparing for.
Linus' Daily Antics
It was an amazing experience being a telephone operator for an entire day, trying to field 200 calls, encountering all kinds of people. Even though it got weary as the day progressed, I maintained my courteous tone throughout my conversations, though it was quite amusing to see one of my platoon-mates talking to the person on the other line as he would to an ah beng friend. I now know its not easy being a telemarketer, or a telephone operator for that matter.
It was also an eye opener to hear the sheer elation of getting a pair of tickets to the preview, (yes just the preview only!), the nonchalant reactions, to the disappointment of a dad, who had wanted to bring his 4 year old infant and his wife along (yes I was sorry I couldn't help him).
Then of course there was this guy who seemed more like I was chasing him for bill payments:
(After confirmation of his IC number ...)
"Congratulations Sir, you have been allocated two NDP preview tickets"
"No no no!"
Click. Phone slammed on me.
(After consultation with my officer, tried again after 15 minutes)
"Afternoon sir, I called earlier about the NDP tickets"
"No no no, don't call me again."
Click. Great.
Overall, what can I say? It seems the perception that Singaporeans are not courteous seems unfounded, for most that I called were extremely polite, other than say one or two teenagers who couldn't care less. It also striked me how so many people got so ecstatic that they had simply received just two tickets to the preview, almost such that I'm ashamed of myself I couldn't care a hoot about the national day parade we servicemen spend so much work preparing for.
Linus' Daily Antics
Thursday, June 16, 2005
The BF's Close Encounters of the Third Kind (Part 1)
We all know how Tekong is famous for being, well, a spooky place. So obviously, what's an army blog without any spooky stories right? Here, I'd like to share the first of several spooky encounters The BF had while in Tekong.
It was a dark and stormy night... Ok that was lame. Back to the real story. =x
During his BMT, The BF had a habit of talking to me for an least an hour every night after lights out. Yes, every single night without fail, even though he'd need to wake up at 5 a.m. the next morning and often, because of training, they wouldn't have lights out until midnight.
The thing was, every so often there would be an officer or a sergeant coming up to patrol the bunks, to make sure that none of the men were awake and engaging in rule-breaking like talking on the phone, which of course The BF was doing night after night. So what he did was to hide his phone under his pillow to block out its light and use an earpiece to talk to me. Occasionally, while we were talking halfway, he would suddenly whisper, "Shhhhhh" and I would know that meant that there was someone patrolling the bunks. We would both keep quiet until he spoke again and told me his officer/sergeant had left.
So one night, I was talking to him, when he gave the usual "Shhhhhh" halfway through our conversation. We both fell silent as I waited for him to speak again. And I waited... and waited... and waited. The BF didn't speak for more than 10 minutes, which was odd, because the normal "waiting time" was usually less than 3 minutes.
So I risked asking him, "What's wrong? Are you still there?"
The BF whispered back, "Shhhhhh. Don't talk yet. He's not gone yet."
We waited another 10 minutes. By this time, I was growing really impatient. But The BF suddenly whispered again, "You hold on. I'm going outside the bunk to take a look. Something's wrong."
So I waited for just a short while this time before his voice came back, sounding perfectly normal. "It's ok, the lieutenant's gone already."
"Why he take so long? Wah lau. Anal officer is it?" I pouted.
"Nah. Don't know why. Never mind lah," The BF replied. Then he immediately changed the topic and we chatted for a while more before he said he had to go to bed. I didn't think much of the incident.
The next day, in the afternoon, he called me while he was having a smoking break.
"Dear, remember what happened last night? We were waiting very long fot that lieutenant I saw to leave, remember?" he asked me.
"Yeah, why?"
He then explained to me what really happened; what he didn't want to tell me then last night for fear of worrying me or spooking me out.
Apparently, The BF's bunk was on the top floor (the fourth) of his company, Bravo. His bunk was also situated right at the end of the corridor, just next to the toilets, furthest away from the one and only staircase leading up to their floor. All the bunks were built this way - a window, the door, and then another window on the other side of the door. For The BF's bunk, it would look like this from the outside:
Forgive the ugly amateurish drawing, I'm not blessed with artistic talent.
So anyway, while he was speaking to me, he saw a guy dressed in No. 4, with the bars of a first lieutenant across his shoulders, walk past window 1 as illustrated in my drawing. That was when he said "Shhhhhh" and we both kept quiet. From past experience, the patrolling officer would walk past both windows, check the toilets, and then walk back past his bunk and leave. This time though, the officer walked past window 1, but The BF never saw him go past window 2.
So he kept me waiting, thinking that perhaps the officer was up to something sneaky and hiding and listening just outside the door. When I spoke to him for the first time, he told me to keep quiet because he still hadn't seen the officer go past window 2, or even walk back past window 1, so he assumed the guy was right outside the door.
But when we waited another 10 minutes, he began to feel something was not right. That was when he decided to pluck up his courage and go outside and check. If the officer was really outside and stopped him, he would just say that he was going to the toilet.
So he went outside, and surprisingly, there was no one at all along the entire corridor. He immediately knew something was wrong then, but he went to the toilets and risked a check, even though he hadn't seen the officer walk past window 2. The toilets were empty as well.
That was when The BF realised he'd probably seen something he wasn't supposed to see. Like I illustrated, anyone who walked to his bunk would have to walk past it again to get back to the stairs. This "lieutenant" had just vanished into thin air.
During his smoking break, before he called me, he related the incident to his platoon sergeant laughingly, brushing it off as his overactive imagination. But his PS remained perfectly serious and told him, "You don't know meh? Every batch sure at least got one recruit see that guy. The story is that he died in Tekong, but for some reason he didn't stop doing his duty and he still continues to patrol the company. Don't worry, he's harmless. In fact, we think he watches over the recruits by doing that."
The BF broke out into cold sweat. "Wah lau eh. So many recruits and I am the one to kena him."
But anyway, that was the first and last time he saw that "lieutenant", to his great relief. Little did he know how many other spooky encounters he would have in his next 2 years in Tekong.
It was a dark and stormy night... Ok that was lame. Back to the real story. =x
During his BMT, The BF had a habit of talking to me for an least an hour every night after lights out. Yes, every single night without fail, even though he'd need to wake up at 5 a.m. the next morning and often, because of training, they wouldn't have lights out until midnight.
The thing was, every so often there would be an officer or a sergeant coming up to patrol the bunks, to make sure that none of the men were awake and engaging in rule-breaking like talking on the phone, which of course The BF was doing night after night. So what he did was to hide his phone under his pillow to block out its light and use an earpiece to talk to me. Occasionally, while we were talking halfway, he would suddenly whisper, "Shhhhhh" and I would know that meant that there was someone patrolling the bunks. We would both keep quiet until he spoke again and told me his officer/sergeant had left.
So one night, I was talking to him, when he gave the usual "Shhhhhh" halfway through our conversation. We both fell silent as I waited for him to speak again. And I waited... and waited... and waited. The BF didn't speak for more than 10 minutes, which was odd, because the normal "waiting time" was usually less than 3 minutes.
So I risked asking him, "What's wrong? Are you still there?"
The BF whispered back, "Shhhhhh. Don't talk yet. He's not gone yet."
We waited another 10 minutes. By this time, I was growing really impatient. But The BF suddenly whispered again, "You hold on. I'm going outside the bunk to take a look. Something's wrong."
So I waited for just a short while this time before his voice came back, sounding perfectly normal. "It's ok, the lieutenant's gone already."
"Why he take so long? Wah lau. Anal officer is it?" I pouted.
"Nah. Don't know why. Never mind lah," The BF replied. Then he immediately changed the topic and we chatted for a while more before he said he had to go to bed. I didn't think much of the incident.
The next day, in the afternoon, he called me while he was having a smoking break.
"Dear, remember what happened last night? We were waiting very long fot that lieutenant I saw to leave, remember?" he asked me.
"Yeah, why?"
He then explained to me what really happened; what he didn't want to tell me then last night for fear of worrying me or spooking me out.
Apparently, The BF's bunk was on the top floor (the fourth) of his company, Bravo. His bunk was also situated right at the end of the corridor, just next to the toilets, furthest away from the one and only staircase leading up to their floor. All the bunks were built this way - a window, the door, and then another window on the other side of the door. For The BF's bunk, it would look like this from the outside:
Forgive the ugly amateurish drawing, I'm not blessed with artistic talent.
So anyway, while he was speaking to me, he saw a guy dressed in No. 4, with the bars of a first lieutenant across his shoulders, walk past window 1 as illustrated in my drawing. That was when he said "Shhhhhh" and we both kept quiet. From past experience, the patrolling officer would walk past both windows, check the toilets, and then walk back past his bunk and leave. This time though, the officer walked past window 1, but The BF never saw him go past window 2.
So he kept me waiting, thinking that perhaps the officer was up to something sneaky and hiding and listening just outside the door. When I spoke to him for the first time, he told me to keep quiet because he still hadn't seen the officer go past window 2, or even walk back past window 1, so he assumed the guy was right outside the door.
But when we waited another 10 minutes, he began to feel something was not right. That was when he decided to pluck up his courage and go outside and check. If the officer was really outside and stopped him, he would just say that he was going to the toilet.
So he went outside, and surprisingly, there was no one at all along the entire corridor. He immediately knew something was wrong then, but he went to the toilets and risked a check, even though he hadn't seen the officer walk past window 2. The toilets were empty as well.
That was when The BF realised he'd probably seen something he wasn't supposed to see. Like I illustrated, anyone who walked to his bunk would have to walk past it again to get back to the stairs. This "lieutenant" had just vanished into thin air.
During his smoking break, before he called me, he related the incident to his platoon sergeant laughingly, brushing it off as his overactive imagination. But his PS remained perfectly serious and told him, "You don't know meh? Every batch sure at least got one recruit see that guy. The story is that he died in Tekong, but for some reason he didn't stop doing his duty and he still continues to patrol the company. Don't worry, he's harmless. In fact, we think he watches over the recruits by doing that."
The BF broke out into cold sweat. "Wah lau eh. So many recruits and I am the one to kena him."
But anyway, that was the first and last time he saw that "lieutenant", to his great relief. Little did he know how many other spooky encounters he would have in his next 2 years in Tekong.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Back with more complaints.
As usual my complaints will be told within my context, because I don't presume to know how shitty your jobs are, but I'm sure anyone who
1. Please be more detailed in your "Subject:" heading. Sending me "Subject: vehicle indent" would be fine if you're the only one in the camp asking for vehicles, but when I get up to 15 requests in a day I'm not going to be able to find your email easily. And Outlook doesn't let you edit Subject: headings from morons, makes my job just that little bit easier. Which means that when you call to confirm your indent I'll have to put you on hold really long.
C'mon, would it kill you to at least include date and purpose under Subject:? "vehicle indent for AHM training on 140505 and 170505" is only 7 words more than "vehicle indent" but tells so much more. And when I reply you wouldn't be stuck with "Re: vehicle indent".
2. Stop spamming. Find out who needs to read your email, and send it only to them. If you're not sure who to request vehicles from I'll understand, and won't be so pissed if you send it to my subordinate, my boss, and my boss' boss. But when I'm the only one who replies I think it's time you got the idea, so please - stop - doing - it - repeatedly. Shotgunning mailing groups isn't going to improve your image either. I don't think I should have to tell you this.
3. If you're forwarding emails with attachments, and it is absolutely essential that the attachment follows the email, please check that the attachment is still attached before sending it. Outlook sometimes only includes a reference to the attachment, and nothing more. I understand that you check your email only once a day, which is why it is absolutely essential that you get it right the first time.
4. Stop abusing the "Reply All" button. the guy who sent out the original obviously has something important to say (unless he doesn't, in which case he's in for a good one), and if you, too, feel you have something the whole world must know, please don't address it to the universe. Use the Reply All button if you must, but please have the courtesy to trim my name from the list if I don't need to know how you feel about this whole razz-ma-tazz.
5. Please do not reply in a fit of anger. I make mistakes, and yes I do deserve to get scolded for that, but after replying with your scolding do you think you could include something useful in the rest of the email? I don't want to have to reply with an apology AND a meek request for information that is actually useful, you know. It kinda makes you look dumb and uncomposed, since I usually like to use the "Reply All" button in cases like this ;-)
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Customer's Guide to Making Life Easier for your MTO (and thus, yourself as well)
Most men and trainees have no idea what goes on behind the scenes, but anyone who has done planning or is a commander of some sort would understand the necessity of this post.
Make life easier for the MTO? bastard who never delivers vehicles where you want them, when you want them? the one glitch in your smoothly running life? C'mon, spare a thought. You have one glitch in your life, he has anywhere between 3 - 7 glitches, depending on how many units his camp has.
Making his life easier will not guarantee you getting what you want, but it will put a smile on his face when he sees one great indent in the list of many screwed-up ones, it means he will try his darnedest best to get you what you want, and if he apologises for his inability to provide the service you require you can be sure he means it from the bottom of his heart.
So, yeah, make life easy for him, make life easy for yourself. Here's how:
1. Be reasonable. If you're just going to send some equipment to GSMB, wait while it gets repaired, then RTU, don't make the driver wait for you too. If you're going to be there for at least 2 hours, do have the courtesy to send the driver back, then ask for him again when you do need him. An MT Line will almost never have sufficient manpower, and the last thing I need is you aggravating this situation unnecessarily.
Also, it does not take 5 hours to deliver a document to CMPB and return to camp. Especially when you ask for a GP car. Indent accordingly.
2. Be flexible. If I ask you to share a vehicle with someone else don't go all anal on me and refuse no matter what. If there really is no way to do it at least offer other dates you are okay with.
3. Don't expect miracles. If you ask for a vehicle the next day and send the indent only the afternoon before don't be surprised if I can't provide drivers. Also be prepared to get less than you asked for, especially if what you want is 12 landrovers and 2 5-tonners.
I can help ask for support from a general transport unit, but I require that you submit such requests at least one month in advance. And I also need you to understand that confirmation of such requests will not come so early. And is not guaranteed either.
Moral of the story: If you want to plan something big, don't neglect the MTO, don't do it last-minute, and make sure it is sustainable. Too many senior commanders (especially government scholars) love planning really big exercises and events, then blowing their tops when they are told it is unsustainable. We need more logisticians at the top, I'm telling you. At least one year of experience in a logistics-related appointment, excluding S4 and DyS4. Meaning MTO, QM, TSO (tech store), or other on-the-ground type of logistic role.
We don't need another CO bellowing "WTF!?" when informed that only 2 out of 10 tanks are still moveable. Yes, I know it sounds like we screwed up big time, but sometimes we didn't (someone else did; perhaps no one did, things like this can happen spontaneously because of no one's fault), and the first thing you should do is tell us what you want to do about it instead of lambasting us for letting things screw up so bad. I respect a boss who gets things done without pushing the blame around.
4. Be understanding. I don't need you to understand that I have no more drivers and cannot support your exercise because my digestive system is not advanced enough to synthesise new machine operators. I just need you to understand that at times I can give you all the drivers I have and it will still be insufficient, but you have my assurance I will do all in my power to find the resources you need from all over the Army (though that is no guarantee; a 2LT has much less power than most people think).
I also need you to understand that we are a logistics unit, not a training unit; you can squeeze me until I pee my guts out and I still might not be able to give you the 12 landrovers and 6 5-tonners, with their respective drivers, that you need. If I could stay up the whole night to craft you a new driver, teach him how to drive and get the necessary paperwork done I would have done it. This are the unchangeable facts of life and they do not change even if you manage to get a BG to breathe down my neck.
Of course, feel free to meet me for lunch and work out a mutually beneficial arrangement; I'm always open to compromises. If you're happy I'm happy.
5. Don't be a wanker. If I can't provide you with drivers you have every right to let your immediate superior know, but I don't see the need for you to CC it to your CO and my FM (fleet manager) when it's just a small (platoon-level) exercise and you're just a fucking 2SG. And don't play members of the MT Line against each other to get what you want; it may work in the short-term but you'll just be well-hated in the long-term. I am the one doing the detailing, so if I say no don't ask my MT Sgt to approve the indent; yes, I should have sorted things like this out with my MT Sgt but it's not as easy as it sounds, and before it is done the last thing I need is you exploiting this situation.
6. Keep yourself updated. I don't want to spam the inboxes of the whole camp whenever we change appointments, ORD or get posted in. Stop sending your indents to CPL X and 2LT Z when both of them have ORDed weeks ago. If you don't seem to be getting replies perhaps it's time to give the MT Line a call, and get to know the new kids on the block.
7. Don't assume. Don't indent a vehicle 2 months in advance, shut up, become a reclusive hermit and then expect it to turn up on the day itself. Sure, you have every right to ("but I told you already what"), but having the right to expect it to turn up is not the same as actually having it turn up. Call every fortnight to confirm the vehicles and drivers you asked for are still there, increase the frequency of your calls as the day draws near (just once a week will do, thank you), and call 1-2 days in advance to confirm your indent. It's troublesome and you don't have to do it, but it's for your own good, not mine. All I suffer is a lower fulfillment rate and a slight sense of guilt.
Why, you ask? Because things change. A driver might suddenly break his leg. The MT Line might suddenly be activated for recall manning. COA might suddenly decide to visit. And we can't predict these kind of things 2 months in advance.
8. Don't be vague. There may or may not be a standard indent form in your unit, but I'm sure every MTO will appreciate it if you will provide at least the following details:
Start and end of indent (date + time; also see point 1. Don't hold the drivers later than you have to.)
Locations (where the vehicle will be going; training area, camp, etc)
Report to (who the driver should look for, where the driver should go)
Contact no (who the driver should call)
Purpose of every single vehicle you ask for (safety rover, admin rover, store tonner, ferry tonner, equipment to be used in vehicle, etc. We do need to prepare them beforehand.)
Other details if possible (no of passengers, extra equipment needed in vehicle - FFR cable/mounting board/mounting bracket for signal set etc.)
9. Don't be an asshole. If you need your vehicles labelled please do it yourself. When you're out on exercise and it's raining don't huddle in your Goretex and ask the driver to retrieve stuff for you. And do be nice to the drivers. You should scold them if they are rude or unreasonably uncooperative, but please make sure they are fed, taken care of and given sufficient rest. The safety of you and your men/trainees depends on them, accidents are a real bitch, but all I do is paperwork, the ones who will die horribly are the victims of the accident, and the guys who deprived the drivers of their sleep.
10. Accept that the MTO is king of his domain, and respect him even if you don't see any reason to. If he rejects requests don't hurl abuse at him. Don't tell him how to do his job; I don't presume to know how your department works, and certainly do not consider myself able to run your department better than you can, so I expect likewise from you.
The above pointers are not the 10 commandments of MT Line customers, they are meant as a guideline for those who are not requesting vehicles through CFMS (fancy computerised vehicle requesting system) yet. You can break all of them if you want to. But you have my utmost assurance that if you do, I will do all I can in my power to make your life during my NSF liability hell on earth. I will put your requests as low on my priority list as I can, I will chuckle with glee every time I reply that my MT Line has been stretched to the max and I can't give you what you want, and I will report all abuse of my vehicles and drivers to the relevant authorities. And I hope that gives you nightmares.
Do your best to make life easy for me and I can make life really good for you. No, I can't put you top of the priority list - that belongs to Ops and Exercises/training. But I have other ways - let's just say not all drivers are equal. And neither are the vehicles ^_- You will always have access to my professional opinion, and where possible I might even offer suggestions to your transport problems you would never have thought of. And if I can't do any of the above I will do my utmost best to offer a solution that won't be too harsh on you.
There are other ways of making your life easy as well. Get the MTO's handphone number, and get your number in his handphone (you'll need a really good working relationship to do that with me. And possibly a lunch or two). Get the KAHs (key appt holders) to know your face and name, and know them by face and name too. It takes sincere effort, but is well worth the investment.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Felicity
Some people have it easy in the army, while some don't quite enjoy the same felicity another receives. Thus, I find it unjust to judge how army life has been between 2 different individuals, as did Jus did when she asked this guy how was his NS life.
"Nothing much, not really that tough. Yeah guys usually mature, change after NS, impacts your life." (well its somewhere along those lines, words probably got lost in transition)
Hmm, so we have here a guy who underwent a modified BMT and spent the subsequent period of his NS life as a storeman. No offence meant to all the storeman out there, but in all seriousness, other than improving your arithmetic, and knowing how long spiders take to weave their webs, I can't perceive how being a storeman can really impact your life that much.
Anyone who says they love the army would probably be lying through the skin of their teeth, and in all earnest, I haven't seen a single soul declare that with zest. However, we have little choice but to serve, even if any complains we make be seen as whiny by half our population who would never understand what we go through in 2 years. The grim reality is that the word patriotism is thrown out of the window, and we are all living by our obligations of holding that coveted pink IC.
An interesting fact I just read somewhere, no inkling if there is any truth in it, but 60% of NSF intake are Pes C or below by the time they ORD. Really interesting.
It never ceases to amaze me to see someone sitting there reading an issue of Maxim, unperturbed that everyone around him is busy with area cleaning. Whilst everyone is slogging away helping to keep the area clean, how one can act nonchalant, and not feel a tinge of guilt is beyond me. Oh wait, he moves, contributes to area cleaning by leaving the spot he is sitting on so we can sweep the floor, whilst he continues his salivating on the chair. Seriously isit that tough to do your part in a bunk you sleep & live in majority of the week? Even so when its not as if all the scantily clad women are gona come alive and walk away from the magazine.
I won't deny there have been periods I've skive, but at least I ensure I do my part, and certainly not when everyone around me is slogging their guts out. Alright, I complain too much. Perhaps I should stop and reflect.
Linus' Daily Antics | Article
"Nothing much, not really that tough. Yeah guys usually mature, change after NS, impacts your life." (well its somewhere along those lines, words probably got lost in transition)
Hmm, so we have here a guy who underwent a modified BMT and spent the subsequent period of his NS life as a storeman. No offence meant to all the storeman out there, but in all seriousness, other than improving your arithmetic, and knowing how long spiders take to weave their webs, I can't perceive how being a storeman can really impact your life that much.
Anyone who says they love the army would probably be lying through the skin of their teeth, and in all earnest, I haven't seen a single soul declare that with zest. However, we have little choice but to serve, even if any complains we make be seen as whiny by half our population who would never understand what we go through in 2 years. The grim reality is that the word patriotism is thrown out of the window, and we are all living by our obligations of holding that coveted pink IC.
An interesting fact I just read somewhere, no inkling if there is any truth in it, but 60% of NSF intake are Pes C or below by the time they ORD. Really interesting.
It never ceases to amaze me to see someone sitting there reading an issue of Maxim, unperturbed that everyone around him is busy with area cleaning. Whilst everyone is slogging away helping to keep the area clean, how one can act nonchalant, and not feel a tinge of guilt is beyond me. Oh wait, he moves, contributes to area cleaning by leaving the spot he is sitting on so we can sweep the floor, whilst he continues his salivating on the chair. Seriously isit that tough to do your part in a bunk you sleep & live in majority of the week? Even so when its not as if all the scantily clad women are gona come alive and walk away from the magazine.
I won't deny there have been periods I've skive, but at least I ensure I do my part, and certainly not when everyone around me is slogging their guts out. Alright, I complain too much. Perhaps I should stop and reflect.
Linus' Daily Antics | Article
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
"Chao Keng" Street
For your interpretation, what sounds closer?
CHAO KENG STREET
To act or pretend in order to impress others or escape being given extra duties or responsibilities.
1. "Don't chao keng lah, we know you very good, leow."
2. "No need to chao keng anymore... The other guy oreddy kena arrow."
or
TSAO K'NG STREET
Hokkien term meaning to expose one's underwear unintentionally.
"Don't look! Jane tsao k'ng again."
Definitions taken from the Coxford Dictionary
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Near Death Experience and Stupidity
Had a buddy of mine, who I got real close to only after BMT at vocational training, because he was in another platoon in BMT. He told me a story of how during our POP at one point, he seriously thought he was either going to die or get seriously hurt.
My friends platoon had been assigned the task of acting out an invasion scenario during our POP. The usual propaganda stuff, evil enemy invades, poor civilians scared, hurt, killed. At the end, the army arrives, and through "skill and "co-ordination", they dispatch the enemy. Pretty run of the mill stuff, just play acting with blanks and smoke grenades.
My friend was to be a civilian, just some teenage kid, who would get "killed" while trying to fight the enemy. So he gets killed, and is lying on the parade square, happy and contented, because he essentially gets to "sleep" during his POP.
The problem comes, when the heroic Singapore Army attacks and they start throwing smoke grenades. My friend pretending to be dead with his eyes close, hears this "Clank!Clank!" sound heading towards him. So, he opens one eye to take a peep, and he sees this smoke grenade, still shooting sparks happily bouncing towards him.
Part of the problem was that he was the closest to the spectators, so any movement from him would be freaking obvious. On top of that, we had a MP as a VIP that day cause well there was a white horse amongst us. So my friend was mentally caught, and hesitated, if he moved, he would most probably end up signing extras, if he stayed, there would be a chance the damn grenade would stop before reaching him.
Him being a guy who tends to make really silly decisions (He made another REALLY dumb decision later on that resulted in him going to DB, but that’s for another time) STAYED PUT. He stayed there motionless on the parade square, watching this hot sparking cylinder rolling closer and closer to him. Thank god for the lucky bastard that the grenade stopped 2 meters away from his face, and all he got was a whole bunch of smoke.
My friends platoon had been assigned the task of acting out an invasion scenario during our POP. The usual propaganda stuff, evil enemy invades, poor civilians scared, hurt, killed. At the end, the army arrives, and through "skill and "co-ordination", they dispatch the enemy. Pretty run of the mill stuff, just play acting with blanks and smoke grenades.
My friend was to be a civilian, just some teenage kid, who would get "killed" while trying to fight the enemy. So he gets killed, and is lying on the parade square, happy and contented, because he essentially gets to "sleep" during his POP.
The problem comes, when the heroic Singapore Army attacks and they start throwing smoke grenades. My friend pretending to be dead with his eyes close, hears this "Clank!Clank!" sound heading towards him. So, he opens one eye to take a peep, and he sees this smoke grenade, still shooting sparks happily bouncing towards him.
Part of the problem was that he was the closest to the spectators, so any movement from him would be freaking obvious. On top of that, we had a MP as a VIP that day cause well there was a white horse amongst us. So my friend was mentally caught, and hesitated, if he moved, he would most probably end up signing extras, if he stayed, there would be a chance the damn grenade would stop before reaching him.
Him being a guy who tends to make really silly decisions (He made another REALLY dumb decision later on that resulted in him going to DB, but that’s for another time) STAYED PUT. He stayed there motionless on the parade square, watching this hot sparking cylinder rolling closer and closer to him. Thank god for the lucky bastard that the grenade stopped 2 meters away from his face, and all he got was a whole bunch of smoke.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Fortune-less
Had our range this week and was somehow termed bobo for a day. Now, I have no idea how the term bobo came about to describe firers who can't hit their targets. Was it termed after Zoe Tay in the then SBC (now Mediacorp) show, Pretty Faces, but seemingly since it could have been a term that was coined earlier than before the late 80s, the term bobo might have well been a deviation from the now extinct dodo bird.
Well, before you get the wrong impression, I'm definitely not a bobo shooter, or rather believe I'm not that bad, the 1st day of range and I found out that my wife (read: rifle) was in a sense not the best of rifles. Actually, it was more of a problem with the bolt carrier group; resulting in endless IAs (immediate action). As one of the warrant officers who tried to get me out of my IA fix put it, "You bolt carrier is f#cked up!"
Normally, carrying out my IA drills and carrying on shooting proved little hassle for me, but this time around my bolt carrier group was really so f#cked up that the bullet usually ended up in a vertical position, leaving my magazine stuck, and by the time I got it out all the targets would have said adios. As it is, fedup with all the IAs, I only managed to hit 8 out of 17 shot effectively, with 11 unexpended rounds, still in my magazine of course.
As such, I had to go for a reshoot the next day and this time I borrowed my friend's bolt carrier group (his didn't IA a single time the day before). I managed to hit 10/16 for the day shoot and got 7/9 for the 1st 3 magazines of the night shoot, so I didn't really didn't bother much about the IA for my final mag so effectively hitting 17/25 isn't so bad in my opinion.
The friendly banter between our range CSM and this Indian guy from an external unit certainly sparked our exhausted minds the 2nd day (having had like what 4 or so hours of sleep?), so much so that the CSM dubbed him Bobo, and at one point of time radioed over "Bobo clear!" much to everyone's laughs. Well unfortunately at the end of the day, despite the CSM giving him special invididual reshoots and training, everyone except for Mr. Bobo passed.
As reflective of my fortune over the past week or so, I returned from range to find the money from my wallet had been stolen. Apparently, the thief had somehow figured out I had left my key in my beret, which happened to be snuck under my pillow. Sadly, I don't have a habit of leaving my key there other than when we were going outfields for long periods of time or during close combat training (which cites that we can't bring hard objects along). Fortunately, the thief had decided my Nokia 3120 was not worth the effort, for my friend had it worst, he lost money and his Samsung mobile phone. Then, it hit me that back when I first came to Jurong camp to undergo the engineer course, I was scolded once by my sergeant for leaving my key under my pillow. I probably didn't learn from the scolding then, and subsequently paid $30 to learn my lesson.
A piece of advice to everyone out there, NEVER leave your key anywhere in your bunk, for its akin to not locking your cupboard.
Before we fell out from the range, there was the routine everything-out inspection. Now, the range CSM called for detail 3, firer 5 to step out, and somehow one of my platoon mates (who happened to be detail 3, firer 4) raised his hand and stepped forward. He had unwittingly put himself as one of the lucky two to be randomly stripped searched! Needless to say, my other friend who was the actual detail 3, firer 5 was laughing all the way back to camp.
Hygienic
Happened to see one of the toilet construction workers use the toilet without flushing and subsequently left without washing his hands ... such is the irony that he constructs our toilets.
This has just been another boring and uneventful week in my army life.
Linus' Daily Antics
Well, before you get the wrong impression, I'm definitely not a bobo shooter, or rather believe I'm not that bad, the 1st day of range and I found out that my wife (read: rifle) was in a sense not the best of rifles. Actually, it was more of a problem with the bolt carrier group; resulting in endless IAs (immediate action). As one of the warrant officers who tried to get me out of my IA fix put it, "You bolt carrier is f#cked up!"
Normally, carrying out my IA drills and carrying on shooting proved little hassle for me, but this time around my bolt carrier group was really so f#cked up that the bullet usually ended up in a vertical position, leaving my magazine stuck, and by the time I got it out all the targets would have said adios. As it is, fedup with all the IAs, I only managed to hit 8 out of 17 shot effectively, with 11 unexpended rounds, still in my magazine of course.
As such, I had to go for a reshoot the next day and this time I borrowed my friend's bolt carrier group (his didn't IA a single time the day before). I managed to hit 10/16 for the day shoot and got 7/9 for the 1st 3 magazines of the night shoot, so I didn't really didn't bother much about the IA for my final mag so effectively hitting 17/25 isn't so bad in my opinion.
The friendly banter between our range CSM and this Indian guy from an external unit certainly sparked our exhausted minds the 2nd day (having had like what 4 or so hours of sleep?), so much so that the CSM dubbed him Bobo, and at one point of time radioed over "Bobo clear!" much to everyone's laughs. Well unfortunately at the end of the day, despite the CSM giving him special invididual reshoots and training, everyone except for Mr. Bobo passed.
As reflective of my fortune over the past week or so, I returned from range to find the money from my wallet had been stolen. Apparently, the thief had somehow figured out I had left my key in my beret, which happened to be snuck under my pillow. Sadly, I don't have a habit of leaving my key there other than when we were going outfields for long periods of time or during close combat training (which cites that we can't bring hard objects along). Fortunately, the thief had decided my Nokia 3120 was not worth the effort, for my friend had it worst, he lost money and his Samsung mobile phone. Then, it hit me that back when I first came to Jurong camp to undergo the engineer course, I was scolded once by my sergeant for leaving my key under my pillow. I probably didn't learn from the scolding then, and subsequently paid $30 to learn my lesson.
A piece of advice to everyone out there, NEVER leave your key anywhere in your bunk, for its akin to not locking your cupboard.
Before we fell out from the range, there was the routine everything-out inspection. Now, the range CSM called for detail 3, firer 5 to step out, and somehow one of my platoon mates (who happened to be detail 3, firer 4) raised his hand and stepped forward. He had unwittingly put himself as one of the lucky two to be randomly stripped searched! Needless to say, my other friend who was the actual detail 3, firer 5 was laughing all the way back to camp.
Hygienic
Happened to see one of the toilet construction workers use the toilet without flushing and subsequently left without washing his hands ... such is the irony that he constructs our toilets.
This has just been another boring and uneventful week in my army life.
Linus' Daily Antics
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Is your life really worth it?
1 Company,
2 Days of Shooting,
18 Lanes for firing,
22 Instructors,
181 Recruits,
200 M-16 rifles,
700 Magazines,
6000 Target Boards
27,000 Rounds of ammunition,
1 Range Package,
Thereby causing,
Countless miss-fires,
Millions of I-A's (jamming of rifles),
27,000 Expended rounds (some are returned though),
6000 Used Target boards (of which less than half got hit thanks to cock-eyed shooters),
700 Very hot magazines,
200 Dirty rifles,
181 Tired maggots,
22 Cranky and coarsed-voiced instructors,
18 Lanes littered with empty ammunition cartridges,
2 Days of fruitless shooting (the total score for this range was one of the lowest),
1 Extremely tired and sleepy company.
Which explains why I only managed to blog in the late morning. Bloody re-shooters in range caused the whole company to only cease fire at 11pm last night. Meaning that we slept at around 2am and only managed to book out early this morning. I, and a few other instructors, nearly lost our lives back at Range yesterday.
Thanks to the foolishness and ignorance of the recruits. Sheesh. No wonder instructors deserve the extra pay more than section commanders out there in the units.
Despite us reminding the recruits that they must, at all times , point their rifles to the front (in the direction of the targets), they refused to comply.
Here's one good example...
Recruit XYZ was firing as per normal.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Click!
Uh-oh. As a trained specialist, I'd recognised the sound anytime.
Bloody jammed rifle.
Recruit XYZ finally realises it too.
*Turns around from target to face me (I was standing behind him), with a LOADED rifle pointing straight at me*
"Sergeant! I-A!" (meaning a jammed rifle requiring an Immediate-Action)
"&@*!^#%$&@*!^#%$!!!",
"OEI! POINT YOUR RIFLE TO THE FRONT!!!", I shouted.
*at the same time, rushed towards him and shoved his wayward pointing rifle back to the front*
Then I went and helped him remedy his weapon. Sheesh. Another close shave. Had that rifle suddenly snapped back to life, it would be the end of me. Which really makes me marvel at the destructive power of a rifle. There lies, in the hands of a recruit, a device which is capable of taking away lives. I shudder to think what that weapon could do in the hands of an insane recruit.
Is your life really worth it?
I'm just glad to be home.
Safe and sound.
2 Days of Shooting,
18 Lanes for firing,
22 Instructors,
181 Recruits,
200 M-16 rifles,
700 Magazines,
6000 Target Boards
27,000 Rounds of ammunition,
1 Range Package,
Thereby causing,
Countless miss-fires,
Millions of I-A's (jamming of rifles),
27,000 Expended rounds (some are returned though),
6000 Used Target boards (of which less than half got hit thanks to cock-eyed shooters),
700 Very hot magazines,
200 Dirty rifles,
181 Tired maggots,
22 Cranky and coarsed-voiced instructors,
18 Lanes littered with empty ammunition cartridges,
2 Days of fruitless shooting (the total score for this range was one of the lowest),
1 Extremely tired and sleepy company.
Which explains why I only managed to blog in the late morning. Bloody re-shooters in range caused the whole company to only cease fire at 11pm last night. Meaning that we slept at around 2am and only managed to book out early this morning. I, and a few other instructors, nearly lost our lives back at Range yesterday.
Thanks to the foolishness and ignorance of the recruits. Sheesh. No wonder instructors deserve the extra pay more than section commanders out there in the units.
Despite us reminding the recruits that they must, at all times , point their rifles to the front (in the direction of the targets), they refused to comply.
Here's one good example...
Recruit XYZ was firing as per normal.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Click!
Uh-oh. As a trained specialist, I'd recognised the sound anytime.
Bloody jammed rifle.
Recruit XYZ finally realises it too.
*Turns around from target to face me (I was standing behind him), with a LOADED rifle pointing straight at me*
"Sergeant! I-A!" (meaning a jammed rifle requiring an Immediate-Action)
"&@*!^#%$&@*!^#%$!!!",
"OEI! POINT YOUR RIFLE TO THE FRONT!!!", I shouted.
*at the same time, rushed towards him and shoved his wayward pointing rifle back to the front*
Then I went and helped him remedy his weapon. Sheesh. Another close shave. Had that rifle suddenly snapped back to life, it would be the end of me. Which really makes me marvel at the destructive power of a rifle. There lies, in the hands of a recruit, a device which is capable of taking away lives. I shudder to think what that weapon could do in the hands of an insane recruit.
Is your life really worth it?
I'm just glad to be home.
Safe and sound.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Starry Night
I don't remember many other names now, but I was numb from fatigue. So were Foong, Selvam and Ho Yeo as we lay on the top of our Armoured Personnel Carrier.
Foong asked why.
I said I didn't know. Ask the stars. A lot of them tonight.
I must have been numb from fatigue, because I didn't feel much else while lying on the top of the APC.
Foong asked again, what happened?
Not sure. APC overturned. Bravo Company. Someone died.
Why must people die like that? Foong asked the stars again.
I thought of many things then. How the accident happened. How unlucky it was for Bravo Company to be switched to point (leading) company instead of Alpha. How dark it was at 8pm when the command for Order of Movement was given. How it had rained the two days before, making the dirt tracks all but muddy slosh pits. How we had always made fun of Bravo's incompetence. How I had spent the previous two days riding my recce bike behind and between the tanks and armoured carriers. How I had been tasked to mark out directions at track junctions. How I had seen the false track leading up a steep embankment. How I had judged that that false track would be obvious to all. How I realised I had made the assumption that it would be Alpha Company on point. How I realised that if another company had been on point, they might not have deemed the false track so obvious. How I realised what might happen when the Order of Movement was given. How I did not actually see the accident. How I realised exactly what had happened when the radio call came in to inform Battalion HQ personnel to collect the deceased's personal effects from Bravo Company.
I thought of it all, but I couldn't tell Foong or the rest why and how. Maybe I was just numb from fatigue. And it was late, and kind of peaceful under the Kanchanaburi sky. It had stopped raining and there sure were a lot of stars that night.
Then we fell asleep, and it must have been a good uninterrupted sleep, because we woke up only when the morning sun shone on our faces and threatened to bake us on the metal deck.
PTE Teo Ho Yeo, CFC Tan, myself, CPL Koh, PTE Sng, SSG Ang, Kanchanaburi, Thailand, 20th Oct 1989
Foong asked why.
I said I didn't know. Ask the stars. A lot of them tonight.
I must have been numb from fatigue, because I didn't feel much else while lying on the top of the APC.
Foong asked again, what happened?
Not sure. APC overturned. Bravo Company. Someone died.
Why must people die like that? Foong asked the stars again.
I thought of many things then. How the accident happened. How unlucky it was for Bravo Company to be switched to point (leading) company instead of Alpha. How dark it was at 8pm when the command for Order of Movement was given. How it had rained the two days before, making the dirt tracks all but muddy slosh pits. How we had always made fun of Bravo's incompetence. How I had spent the previous two days riding my recce bike behind and between the tanks and armoured carriers. How I had been tasked to mark out directions at track junctions. How I had seen the false track leading up a steep embankment. How I had judged that that false track would be obvious to all. How I realised I had made the assumption that it would be Alpha Company on point. How I realised that if another company had been on point, they might not have deemed the false track so obvious. How I realised what might happen when the Order of Movement was given. How I did not actually see the accident. How I realised exactly what had happened when the radio call came in to inform Battalion HQ personnel to collect the deceased's personal effects from Bravo Company.
I thought of it all, but I couldn't tell Foong or the rest why and how. Maybe I was just numb from fatigue. And it was late, and kind of peaceful under the Kanchanaburi sky. It had stopped raining and there sure were a lot of stars that night.
Then we fell asleep, and it must have been a good uninterrupted sleep, because we woke up only when the morning sun shone on our faces and threatened to bake us on the metal deck.
PTE Teo Ho Yeo, CFC Tan, myself, CPL Koh, PTE Sng, SSG Ang, Kanchanaburi, Thailand, 20th Oct 1989
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Devil's Own
Nothing seems to be going right for me this week. Returned to camp to find that I had been selected to do office orderly duty on 22 May, Sunday. Yes selected to be an office orderly was much better to be on guard duty, but in this there wasn't any guard duty (usually if we have duty, 5 guards and 1 office orderly would be selected, and by bed order). It would have been easy to purport the blame on those who signed extra, for distorting the order system, but I would rather put it down to my poor luck.
Trying to negotiate a change for the friday duty (as my friend who was supposed to be doing it had a medical appointment on that day) came to no avail as my sergeant justification was that if I did the friday duty, who would do my sunday duty? Seems like the only hope of myself escpaing the duty was if someone unfortunately, signed an extra or something next week at the range, but wishing upon that could well backfire, and for all I know I might be the one that ends up signing an extra! Then there would really be nothing to prevent me from doing the duty.
What irks me is that I might have to miss the FA Cup final between Manchester United and Arsenal (duty is from Sunday morning to Monday morning), hopefully I would be allowed to book in on Sunday morning rather than Saturday night. Furthermore, with Sunday being Vesak Day, it means my long weekend would be disrupted, with an extra journey to and fro camp, pretty tedious considering Jurong and Thomson aren't exactly close by (unlike Nee Soon Camp, ah the memories if only I was posted there but oh well enough of the improbabilities). Booking out on a monday morning and back in subsequently the same night is tormenting to me.Dual nights of football is also what I have to give up (hey football nights have been few and far between ever since I enlisted). Everything could have been much worst in true fact, at least I can claim an extra day off as Vesak Day falls on Sunday. If Sunday isn't a public holiday, I would have to do duty without an extra day off, and probably feeling even more despondent than I already am.
Stinking Bedframes
Had more sai kang to do this week, carrying our old bedframes and mattresses to a situated dumpsite. Not much of a problem since we were so used to being the sai kang party. There was a slight hesistation though, the bedframes and mattresses had been doused by a mixture of feces and urine when the pipe in the room broke, and 2 of my platoon mates attested to the smell when they, unfortunately, had to claim back two beds last week, Nonetheless we still had a job to do and got on with it, carrying what was now dried waste encrusted on the bedframes. Halfway through, our sergeant thought of the perfect solution to dragging the bedframes on 3 wheel trolleys (wheels broken of course) by getting a forklift to do the work.
Stinking Tee
Woke up groggy and all as I do every morning, put on my tshirt and got ready to fall in. Strangely, as I put on the tshirt I was wondering why the tshirt still stank a little despite having been just washed (my washed tshirts don't stink as a matter of fact!). Hmm, perhaps it must have really stank before it made its way to the washing machine (but then again it doesn't sound like me again, really!)
As I made my way downstairs, I also felt that the tshirt seemed to be more tight fitting than ever before, squeezing my impalpable muscles. It was either that the tshirt had shrunk from all that washing or my muscles decided to bulge overnight, both of which seemed highly unlikely. Upon returning from breakfast, I immediately took the tshirt off and realized to my amazement that it was medium sized and definitely not my tshirt as all of mine were large. So how did I come into posession of someone's elses tshirt?
Upon reflection, I figured that when we were shifting beds and the mix the week before, I had left my tshirt on a chair and probably whilst all the moving took place someone must have taken mine by mistake and I had inadvertently taken what I thought was mine (fortunately I didn't wear it, or maybe unfortunately cause I would have figured it wasn't mine then).
Hmm so anyone interested in a medium sized army tshirt, cleanly washed of course (I sent it for washing immediately after the realization). All bid are accepted, with the prized tshirt going to the highest bidder.
In all seriousness, the moral of the story is to label all your clothes in the army as there are probably 1,001 identical pieces of clothes amongst the entire block of soldiers. As for me, its off to the eMart at the next opportunity to get a new set of nice smelling tshirt.
Running
Started training this week for the army half marathon (which is to be held in September, yes its FOUR months away!) and our progressive training started this week, seeing us jump from running 8km last week to 18km this week, hmm how progressive indeed!
As with the roulette wheel of how my luck is going this week, we had inspectors coming down this week to inspect all the armskote and out of the entire company, I was one of the lucky 5 whose rifle was picked to be inspected, fortunately mine passed without much of a shot.
This article is just another week in my army life. Linus' Daily Antics
Trying to negotiate a change for the friday duty (as my friend who was supposed to be doing it had a medical appointment on that day) came to no avail as my sergeant justification was that if I did the friday duty, who would do my sunday duty? Seems like the only hope of myself escpaing the duty was if someone unfortunately, signed an extra or something next week at the range, but wishing upon that could well backfire, and for all I know I might be the one that ends up signing an extra! Then there would really be nothing to prevent me from doing the duty.
What irks me is that I might have to miss the FA Cup final between Manchester United and Arsenal (duty is from Sunday morning to Monday morning), hopefully I would be allowed to book in on Sunday morning rather than Saturday night. Furthermore, with Sunday being Vesak Day, it means my long weekend would be disrupted, with an extra journey to and fro camp, pretty tedious considering Jurong and Thomson aren't exactly close by (unlike Nee Soon Camp, ah the memories if only I was posted there but oh well enough of the improbabilities). Booking out on a monday morning and back in subsequently the same night is tormenting to me.Dual nights of football is also what I have to give up (hey football nights have been few and far between ever since I enlisted). Everything could have been much worst in true fact, at least I can claim an extra day off as Vesak Day falls on Sunday. If Sunday isn't a public holiday, I would have to do duty without an extra day off, and probably feeling even more despondent than I already am.
Stinking Bedframes
Had more sai kang to do this week, carrying our old bedframes and mattresses to a situated dumpsite. Not much of a problem since we were so used to being the sai kang party. There was a slight hesistation though, the bedframes and mattresses had been doused by a mixture of feces and urine when the pipe in the room broke, and 2 of my platoon mates attested to the smell when they, unfortunately, had to claim back two beds last week, Nonetheless we still had a job to do and got on with it, carrying what was now dried waste encrusted on the bedframes. Halfway through, our sergeant thought of the perfect solution to dragging the bedframes on 3 wheel trolleys (wheels broken of course) by getting a forklift to do the work.
Stinking Tee
Woke up groggy and all as I do every morning, put on my tshirt and got ready to fall in. Strangely, as I put on the tshirt I was wondering why the tshirt still stank a little despite having been just washed (my washed tshirts don't stink as a matter of fact!). Hmm, perhaps it must have really stank before it made its way to the washing machine (but then again it doesn't sound like me again, really!)
As I made my way downstairs, I also felt that the tshirt seemed to be more tight fitting than ever before, squeezing my impalpable muscles. It was either that the tshirt had shrunk from all that washing or my muscles decided to bulge overnight, both of which seemed highly unlikely. Upon returning from breakfast, I immediately took the tshirt off and realized to my amazement that it was medium sized and definitely not my tshirt as all of mine were large. So how did I come into posession of someone's elses tshirt?
Upon reflection, I figured that when we were shifting beds and the mix the week before, I had left my tshirt on a chair and probably whilst all the moving took place someone must have taken mine by mistake and I had inadvertently taken what I thought was mine (fortunately I didn't wear it, or maybe unfortunately cause I would have figured it wasn't mine then).
Hmm so anyone interested in a medium sized army tshirt, cleanly washed of course (I sent it for washing immediately after the realization). All bid are accepted, with the prized tshirt going to the highest bidder.
In all seriousness, the moral of the story is to label all your clothes in the army as there are probably 1,001 identical pieces of clothes amongst the entire block of soldiers. As for me, its off to the eMart at the next opportunity to get a new set of nice smelling tshirt.
Running
Started training this week for the army half marathon (which is to be held in September, yes its FOUR months away!) and our progressive training started this week, seeing us jump from running 8km last week to 18km this week, hmm how progressive indeed!
As with the roulette wheel of how my luck is going this week, we had inspectors coming down this week to inspect all the armskote and out of the entire company, I was one of the lucky 5 whose rifle was picked to be inspected, fortunately mine passed without much of a shot.
This article is just another week in my army life. Linus' Daily Antics
Friday, May 13, 2005
Another Army Song
Training To Be Soldiers,
Fight For Our Land,
One In A Life,
Two Years Of Our Life.
Have You Ever Wonder,
Why We Must Serve,
Cause We Love Our Land,
And Want It To Be Free,
To Be Free.
Looking All Around Us,
People Everywhere,
Children Having Fun,
While We Are Holding Guns.
Have You Ever Wonder,
Why We Must Serve,
Cause We Love Our Land,
And Want It To Be Free,
To Be Free.
Download The Song Here
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
I just got this great WMA of a NS song! For those of you not from Singapore, NS is the National Service all able bodied men (and those also not so man, but at least born a boy) must go through in Singapore. We spend 2 years (must shorten only after I ORD right?) serving our country either in the military, police force, or civil defense.
click HERE to download song.
PS. Sorry, no time to convert to MP3, will do so later.
(Reposted from my blog at makanguru.blogspot.com)
or, Lim Peh, Ah Kow, Ah Beng.
Anyway, click the below link for the song, and enjoy this great funny NS song!(Will help if you understand hokkien as well)click HERE to download song.
PS. Sorry, no time to convert to MP3, will do so later.
(Reposted from my blog at makanguru.blogspot.com)
Sunday, May 08, 2005
Singapore’s “martial tradition”
lzydata points to a talk on 20th May 2005 titled "In Search of A Singapore Martial Tradition”, to be held at the SAFTI Library Briefing Room (where they brief libraries).
The recent focus on Tan Kay Hai, the Singapore fighter pilot who flew over the beaches of Normandy on D-Day, and Cheng Seang Ho, the 66 year old woman who fought the Japanese invasion in Dalforce, reveals that there have been Singaporeans who could be sources of inspiration in any attempt to construct a Singapore martial tradition.
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