All able-bodied males who are mentally sound must serve National Service. It is an obligation, a duty to serve the nation, this island-country-city-state we affectionately call Singapore. I officially began my two and a half years of National Service on 05 January 1995. To leave home to embark on a new journey after eighteen years of living under the care and concern of my loving parents was hard to reconcile at first. But nonetheless, knowing that this journey will not be a joyride, I made a vow to survive it. I am a survivor.

“Parting is such sweet sorrow”. This summed up my feelings at the Depot Road Central Manpower Base on that fateful morning of 05 January 1995. My parents were also there at the send-off gallery to see me off. After the ceremonial pledge, we were bundled into different buses (thank God they were air-conditioned. We were quite fortunate as the previous batches took the three-tonners instead.) Owing to the fact that I was the only one whose hair was cropped close to the scalp, I felt quite uneasy on the bus. I attracted the stares of the others who must have laughed at me silently inside their hearts. All of us on the bus were strangers alike, thrown into an unknown destiny. The bus ride was dead silence, much to my amazement. No one talked, no one bothered to do the customary self-introductions anyway.

We were all issued with a duffel bag – a cylindrical, long green canvas bag which was known as the Ali Baba bag. But from what I could remember hearing from my childhood days, Ali Baba was the name of the man who became rich instantaneously when he found the gold inside the cave. I was all excited and wondered whether there would be any gold inside my Ali Baba bag. Gold there was not to be, but the Ali Baba bag would be used to contain all my necessary clothing and accessories. The initial stage of item collection was fun. I enjoyed myself thoroughly. We were given different coloured tags with their pink, red, yellow, blue, purple, green, orange and brown shades. Our “catch” for the day was a bountiful harvest consisting of camouflaged uniforms, vests, shorts, socks, boots, a helmet and a pair of jogging shoes (which they nicknamed the SAF Reebok)

Nee Soon Camp. 3rd Brigade Training School. Basic Military Training. My second home for the next three months. We are finally here! The place is big. In addition, the colour of all the buildings are in a soothing shade of cream, which reminded me of the colour of the buildings of my junior college. That alone put me at east at once.

We were ushered into a training shed to be divided into different platoons. Thereafter, grabbing my belongings, I followed the rest of my new section mates to our bunks. After the initial settling down in my adopted home, I heard my name being called. I was to have my first interview and was also given my military identity card.

Lunch that day was served at the cookhouse. The food was surprisingly quite appetizing, contrary to tales which I heard from my friends. However, the numerous cookhouse fatigues which I had to do proved to be a hair-raising experience.

Eddie, Yong and myself were assigned to wash ten huge metal rice containers. Inside these ten containers were heaps of fermented rice which was awaiting to be thrown away. After much heaving and grumbling, we managed to deposit the contents into the polythene bags which we then dragged to the rubbish point. But that was only part of the job. Next, we also had to clean the containers thoroughly. While the three of us squatted in a circular fashion and started cleaning the containers amid exchanging the latest gossips, I was reminded of the women in the hit movie “How To Make An American Quilt” who sat around a round table and exchanged their life experiences.

We were also taught how to do the correct webbing for our army backpack, known as the skeleton battle order and the proper lacing of our army boots. After these lessons, there was considerably much time for us to socialize. My bed is very near the window and it offers me a very good view of the surroundings. I can literally smell the fresh air. Not to mention the fact that my bed was also directly under the ceiling fan.

On the third day, we were escorted to the medical centre. My first impression of the medical centre was that it was very old. Even the corridors were dark and emitted a sickly medicine smell that lingered on. But I heard the authorities were building a new medical centre directly opposite the old building. Well, the site had been chosen but whether of not I had the chance to see the physical new building would be another question altogether.

Home was so near, yet so far away. The very thought of the Parents Visiting Day was what kept my spirits high. The actual training began five days after my enlistment. Needless to say, life was tough. On one starry, starry night, the entire platoon was assigned to dig mud at the open grounds behind the administrative block. Although all of us kept quiet and carried on with our task, I could identify with some of the expression on the face of some of my platoon mates. Shocked, bewildered, and surprised – their facial expressions gave them away. The rain only made our job harder.

After the initial orientation week, the tempo graduated from andante to allerando, picking up much speed along the way. First, there was the swimming test, followed by the M16S1 rifle technical handling test, the live firing test practices and the individual fieldcraft lessons all packed into one single week.

It was only the second week, but I was already well equipped with both the theoretical and practical knowledge cum competence of handling the M16S1 rifle, touted as the most commonly used rifle in the world. Despite this, I remembered very clearly my disappointment when I failed my first day range practice. I was a bundle of nerves when it came to the actual firing, hence being nicknamed the “bobo shooter”. I could only console myself and promised to shoot better during the next practice. Well, all came to a point when even my platoon sergeant almost gave up hope on me. While my other section mates were discussing the finer aspects of range practices that would get them a marksmanship award, I was still struggling to clear the range practices. I was simply hopeless and I knew they were sniggering behind my back.

My fortunes took a dramatic change for the better when the night range package started. And that was when I proved my critics wrong and made them eat humble pie. Among all my peers, I am the only one who does not have a nightlife. In fact, I am usually in bed latest by ten o’clock. Yet I performed credibly well for all my night range practices to the extent that my platoon sergeant changed his opinion of me and labelled me a “party animal” this time round. Personally, I found night firing much more tantalising and inviting than day range. The only reason I could give, even up till today was that it was definitely more cooling shooting at night, under the beautiful coverage of the stars and Night’s brows. It was a therapeutic balm which soothed me and made me feel at ease. Gone was the garish sun and the heat waves that made my heart boil. I welcomed the night instead. Basically, night firing comprised of various types of targets illuminated by different amounts of light ranging from the silhouette to the blinking targets which would light up when engaged.

Parents Visiting Day. The day I had been waiting for so earnestly. It finally came. Emotions rained and spirits were at an all time high. Experiences were also related and encouragement given. To me, it was a testimony of the strength of the family bond. It is the family bond which is the strongest, surpassing even the metallic bond which I learnt in my Chemistry lessons. But something also touched my heart which made me sit down and think real hard.

Yap’s family did not visit him at all. I asked myself. Why? Did he not tell his parents or did they forget about it? At that particular moment, I felt sorry for him, despite all the eccentric things which he had done.

I remember the time when I first met Yap, who was Eddie’s buddy. With his hair uncut, he was like the demon incarnate himself. He asked me to put his mattress cover in for him. I obliged. While I was doing it, he simply stared in another direction and refused to help. This was my first encounter with Yap, my section mate. Initially, I pitied him and offered to help him, but a week later, I changed my mind.

At the medical examination, Yap kicked up such a big fuss about not being able to see and even told the medical officer that he was partially blind, much to our disbelief. As such, Yap insisted that the medical officer should excuse him from range. Miracles of miracles, Yap succeeded in obtaining his excuse. However, we were not convinced and decided to test him. Adrian was eating M&M’s and dropped one on the floor intentionally. Lamenting his own carelessness, he requested Yap’s assistance in helping him locate the M&M’s which was on the floor. In less than two seconds, Yap kicked up the chocolate M&M’s which was on the floor and popped it into his mouth, with a big grin on his face. On another occasion, Tan dropped a ten cent coin on the floor. Without hesitation, Yap rushed forward immediately and retrieved the ten cent coin for Tan, who was much amazed by the agility and accuracy of a self-proclaimed “partially blind” man. We had enough proof to overturn the medical officer’s decision, but decided not to expose Yap out of plain goodwill. Well, we still had to live with him in the same bunk for the next three months.

The Yap episode did not just end there. Worst times lay ahead of us. Despite being a big lair, Yap is also very disgusting by nature. I was also a primary witness to this. Every night, he sleeps only with his underwear on and never fails to scratch every part of his body before he sleeps, including giving his crotch a very good massage. Perhaps he needed some superb flights of fantasy to send him into deep slumber after a hard day’s training.

But the best was yet to come. In the toilet, Yap would deliberately take his time to bathe. Many a times have I witnessed Yap popping his head over to the next cubicle to admire the well-sculpted, naked male physique of his platoon mates who were also taking their showers. While some would just ignore him, others would reprimand him. What Yap would do in response was to laugh away. Yet others like Daniel would scream at the top of his voice and run out of the toilet, with a towel wrapped around his body, dripping wet. He would only continue part two of his bath after making sure Yap was not around.

Yap enjoys parading himself in his underwear. A spot-check by our platoon sergeant in preparation for our forthcoming field camp revealed the truth that Yap had only two pairs of underwear – a purple one and a green one. The green one is the spare one while the purple one is the one he wears on a daily basis. I really shudder to think. Moreover, Yap only utilises two sets of his army uniform, keeping the other three sets still neatly wrapped in their plastic covers.

But I must give Yap credit for his excellent toilet washing skills. Being assigned to wash the toilet was the last thing I wanted to do. He would always be the first to rush to the toilet to carry out this chore, while the rest of us would drag our feet to the toilet.

Book-out time is also the most important event, besides the passing out parade which we all look forward to. But before we could book out for the first time, we had to pass the hand grenade assault course, after one and a half weeks of hand grenade lessons. I passed the theory test with full marks and then went on to the next stage. I was basically swimming in a mud pool. My uniform was mud soaked and I stank. But I pushed myself to finish the entire course, failing which I would have to do it again until I complete it. After the test, all of us headed straight to the showers and awaited for the night snacks to come.

We were also taught first aid skills and had to attend the National Education cum General Military Knowledge lessons. The buddy system, guard duties and army discipline were the topics discussed, in addition to basic survival skills and how to render first aid to victims.

Suddenly, the passing out parade was just three days away. Preparations for this event went into full swing and the next thing I knew was that my three months of Basic Military Training was all over. The different feelings of euphoria, a lingering sense of goodbye is still there, hanging in the air at Nee Soon Camp.

I have to get on with life and complete the rest of my National Service liability. Life had been good so far. There would be a better tomorrow for me somewhere out there. The memories of Nee Soon Camp, I hold dear to my heart. The friends I have made too are also the best gift the army has given me.

Pack your bags, get off the train at the main station. Now take the next train to your new destination and enjoy the ride. Remember to fasten your seatbelts. Good luck and thanks for the memories!

Author: Lionel L (30 June 1997)

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