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We happy few, we Band of Brothers

We happy few, we Band of Brothers

chrissyc

1,630 views

It is safe to say that one way or another, the majority of Singaporean men have served their country. Be it sleeping in the jungles of Mandai, walking the beat on the streets of Clarke Quay on New Year’s Eve, or putting out fires (literally) clad in heavy protective gear, most local and naturalised male citizens have given up, as the song goes, “two years of our time”.

But many have differing views of National Service. Some see it as a hindrance, a waste of time. Some see it as an opportunity to get fit and test their limits via command school. Some prefer simply going through the motions, doing whatever their superiors tell them to. Me? I reasoned to myself that since I’m going to have to do it anyway, I might as well go in with an open mind and seek enjoyment in wherever CMPB decides to throw me.

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Who says you can't hear pictures? The sounds are embedded in my memory for life.

Finding diamonds in the rough

Did I have a good time? In a manner of speaking, yes. I forged lifelong friendships, I probably hit my peak fitness (getting thrown into a “chiongsua” vocation will do that to you), and I came out with the mantra that whatever else I may face in the future, it can’t be as bad as trying to get some sleep in a torrential downpour in the Lorong Asrama vegetation, soaking wet and desperately shielding my weapon with my body to prevent potential rusting. And on the first night of a five-day exercise too.

There is truth too, in what your seniors would presumably have told you before you enlisted: You will definitely see all manners and types of people in the service. Hearing of the different stereotypes and seeing them with my own eyes definitely made for a humorous experience, especially during BMT.

Don't judge a book by its cover

There was the stereotypical “JC kid” recruit who was presumably sheltered and pampered for his entire life. He who struggled with simple chores like straightening his bedsheets (because Maria or Mama would do it for him), sweeping the floor of his bunk (I have literally heard, with my own ears, someone say that he did not know how to do it because he had never done so in his whole life), or propping two mattresses against each other in an upside-down V-shape.

To give some context for the last example, my BMT company was tasked with sunning our mattresses in the courtyard on a particularly hot day. The obvious solution was to prop two of them against each other at an angle (like a tepee) and it would hold. We watched the other platoon (of which 95% were JC kids) stack them up like dominoes and struggled to understand why they kept falling over, creating a chain effect. That day, I learned that common sense was, in fact, not so common after all.

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My first day was a mixture of nerves and curiosity. And it is true what they say, that you struggle to sleep on your first night. I only managed to sleep for two hours.

There was the stereotypical “poly kid” who would poke the cauldron of patience to see how far he could go with his bulls**t, who would usually follow orders but attempt to find an easier way to go about it. And the stereotypical “ITE kid” who would cuss a mean streak, go against his superiors, and usually did whatever they wanted. Of course, these are just stereotypes and not a generalisation. Most people whom I’ve had the pleasure or disdain of crossing paths with generally did not fit these stereotypes, save for a select few.

And of course, last but not least, the “chaogeng warrior”. Every unit will have at least one such person, I guarantee it. He who possessed skin thicker than a rhino’s hide, he who knew full well what he was doing and what he could get away with, and he who spent more time at the doctor’s listing off ailments like a seasoned hypochondriac than in camp. My unit had one such person who, from the first day till the last, “chaogeng-ed” to an extent that I only ever had a conversation with him once, at the smoking corner. I now consider it a feat that in a “chiongsua” vocation like mine, he managed to avoid any and every physical training from the first day, for a duration of close to 20 months. He never even marched with us to the cookhouse once.

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I got the chance to learn how to, and ride a motorbike during my service. By now, you may have guessed what my vocation was. IYKYK.

My takeaways (extra 30 cents)

I did enjoy my time in the armed forces, to an extent. I did not like the constant once or twice-a-month weekend guard duties (my constant gripe was that there already was a specific vocation for it, yet we were forced to do either a full or half-day guard duty, on top of being physically exhausted from training the whole day). I bitched and whined like any true Singaporean would (how could I not?). I always tested the waters to try and make life more bearable (but I never did anything that would affect my bookouts, that was my threshold). But I came away a better person. My quick temper mellowed, I learned the value of discipline and patience, and I started to take my future a lot more seriously.

All in all, I only enjoyed my National Service because of the attitude I decided to go in with. For all that’s being said of it being a waste of time, logically speaking, it’s something one has to do anyway, so why not try and enjoy it as much as possible? It’s only a waste of time if one deems it to be.




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