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

"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

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

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.

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)

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.

Ups & Down

As with the cliche out with the old, in with the new, we had our brand new 6-inch mattresses delivered this week; albeit with double-decker bed frames. Finally, we could have beds where I could stretch out my legs fully without touching the frames, not have beds where the sponge peeled off every time one changes the bed sheets (up till a point where I figured it would eventually disintegrate).

A downside to our welfare was that we had to carry the bedframes up 5 levels; along with our mattresses and I can tell you it was no easy feat as our mattresses were located at the hall and we had to go up another couple of levels to get them.

I thought double decker beds were of my father's era and that they had eventually been phased out due to the repeated and increasing numberof injuries suffered by serviceman. Just only recently, a recruit got his head chopped off by the ceiling fan as he climbed onto his bed. Ok, I exaggerate about his head being chopped off but the rumours speculating were that he was trying to commit suicide by letting the fan cut his head and eventually had his blood splattered as graffiti around his plain looking bunk. Of course we now know that it was purely an accident and you can spot the recruit easily from the rest as he looks like a mummified soldier with his head bandaged up.

Oh well, as I quote one of my bunkmates:
"We seem to be taking one step forward, but infact we are taking two steps backwards with this move."
How aptly described.

(Not being racist or demeaning to bangladeshis or anything) but we now basically cover what bangladeshi workers do, with nearly the same amount of pay and slightly less benefits - we do construction work (yeah we operate all the machinery you see on the roads), sweep roads, clean toilets, furniture transportation, and the mix, so what's next?

We also had our beret presentation this week, resulting in a flurry of activity whenever we fall in for lunch as everyone jostles to ensure that their beret is near and in order (alright, me included). Well, not that there are any women to impress but vanity is the name of the game. MAB are back in action as well, my propellant move to the higher echelons has seen me waking up having been attacked by a deluge of MAB, leaving me persistently scratching and cursing for hours. Need to reload on my OFF soon i reckon.

Loggies guide to having your way in your department

As a loggie myself I've been to many admin and logistics departments, and I always notice a common trend. There are smart people who seem to know how to get their way in the department, and others who constantly seem to be getting into trouble.

So I've compiled this guide for people who aren't afraid of putting in a little extra effort to gain a whole lot more out of your NSF experience. For those born with a disposition to slacking, the suggestions here may seem too difficult. This guide is probably not for you. If you are interested in burning a few weekends and putting in some extra effort for the unparalled benefit of gettign your own way in your department with the backing of your superiors, read on.

1. Make yourself indispensable. Do your work fast, don't procrastinate. If you can't do it one way, try another. Your superiors will appreciate you much more if you're the kind that can help them get things done.

2. Offer your help where you know your boss needs it most. Of course, this requires you to have intimate knowledge of your boss' main projects and workload. Don't be afraid to ask; he/she will probably be more than willing to tell you. Try not to go out of your job scope though; if you're the admin clerk it's okay to go a little into the logistical side, but don't dabble too much in maintenance, it will kill you. Of course, if you have really intimate knowledge of the department's inner workings, your'e ready to be king of the hill.

3. Dont' be afraid to put in extra man-hours if you have to. Especially when your boss is putting in extra hours too. This is usually the perfect time to develop a better working relationship with your boss. Get to know his main anxieties. If you want, go ahead and mention holidays you wish to take in the future. If it is les than a month away, don't bother. Test the waters first.

4. Keep your boss updated. Tell him what's wrong on yoru side, and what you're doing to rectify things. He/she wants your assurance that things are normal and you'er working to keep them as such. Telling him/her that thigns are perfect when they're not is only going to put a time bomb in your hands.

5. Don't. Ever. Shout. At. Your. Boss. Yes, it is unfair that he/she can shout at you and you can't shout back, but that's the way thigns are. And besides, there's no faster way to throw your effort away.

6. Be beyond fault. Don't do really dumb things like keep your hair down to your neck, or wearing your shirt tucked out in full view of people outside your department. Feel free to take a few liberties, like wearing PT kit in the store, but not too many. If other people complain about you, make them sound like nit-picking assholes.

Once you feel things are going really well between you and your boss, it is time to start having your way.

7. Learn when to ask for favours. Don't ask when everyone else is asking. Don't ask when the department is going through a crisis. don't ask when your boss is in a bad mood.

8. Learn how to ask for favours. Always provide a good reason. Smoke a little if you have to. It could be your best friend's birthday, or perhaps you have to pick up something, but don't ever fake the demise of a close one. If possible, take the whole day off but show your face for at least 15 min at the start or end of the day - it goes down somewhat better. And always follow up your request with details of arrangements for others to cover your duties, or at least of the steps you have taken to ensure thing swill not go haywire when you disappear (e.g. settling stuff which isn't due for another few days).

9. Learn the reasons for asking for favours. Don't ask for days off when you know that all you're going to do is sit home and slack - you're just wasting imperial favour. If it's something really important, like Mambo night or something, try to at least stay the morning to talk to your boss/colleagues (relationship/building, we call it) before running off. And if things suddenly need to be done, don't run away and disappear - it reflects really badly on you. Stay a little while, and once everyone seems to have something to do, announce that you would really love to stay but have to leave there and then. It's all about tact, people.

10. Get an understudy. It's no good being the only indispensable guy around - sometimes they really need you. The attention goes a long way in helping you get what you want, but if you can get another subject into the limelight you can retire from your duties and continue to enjoy imperial favour at the same time. Talk this over with your boss, express concern that after you ORD things might start spiralling downwards. Don't wait until it's too late. Get a reliable understudy, not some dumb slack shit, and start teaching him. If you are so capable the duties you handle can't be covered by one person alone, get two. Teach them well, slowly hand over your duties to them, and tiptoe out of the limelight. Chip in occasionally on more important matters so you don't look like you're slacking. Whenever people ask, say you're supervising. Of course, don't forget everything you've learned from your job. Not ORD yet, leh.

Once things are in place, you have the favour of your big boss (the biggest guy in the department; the smaller ones are not so important, though it's good to get some support there. otherwise, your'e good as long as they don't hate you) and you have someone to cover your duties, you're good to go. take off whenever you see the need to. if you can't, try taking leave. if that fails, don't push your luck. If you take things slowly you can probably still get one or two days off per fortnight.

Spam? No, It's Information

I am going to keep this post real short because I have only one thing to tell you about.

Here is a the address of the 1st Battalion Guards' Website.

http://www.1guards.com

Do leave your comments behind in the guestbook.

Why am I doing this? Because I helped in it.

Cheers!

The New SAF

Ah, the army chinaware of our times....
who can forget the bulky mess tin which gets blackened and stained after every hot meal...


the old mess tin....

And the old mess mug we tucked in our SBO, which gets dirtied with mud and leaves in the jungle. Beside the 1st 3 mths of BMT, who would drink from it?


The old mess mug..(kidney shaped)...

And now, the SAF has taken fashion and 2-in-1 trend into consideration!
Introducing the hip, cool mess-multi-purpose-kit!


From dull grey, to trendy camo green!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


From a Mug....to a pot!

I am a weenner!

Whaddya know? They ran my dulce et decorum est pro patria mori story on the National Servicemen's website (MIW - Mindef Internet World). Last month, I submitted one of my old posts from here as an entry in a contest organized by them.

I was hoping for a big prize, like two years off reservist training or something. Instead I now have an MIW water bottle, a CD of Army songs by Jack Neo, Dick Lee and Sheikh Haikel and a two week pass to California Fitness. As Cowboy Caleb said to me, 'what you think? They give you Toyota Camry ah?'

Must tell them to buck up. Else every month, like this month, mine will be the only entry they'll receive.


Wow, I won! Who'dve thunk it?