Bookout post:

Restored Post

Whenever people ask me how SMM is, I respond that it is good, relative to life elsewhere in the army, except for:

1) The no handphone rule
2) The bedbugs, mosquitoes and other monsters
3) The horrible food (the worst slop in the SAF probably goes to my camp)

and of course:

4) The weekly IVs

Well, it seems that we've finally tested the patience of our Company Senior Instructor for the last time / something bad, unrelated to us, happened to him that made him angry and crack.

Tuesday, we got hints of it. We had the usual talk about how the younger generation takes our security and prosperity for granted. Blah blah. Been there, done that.

On Friday, somebody lost his wallet, and still hadn't realised, after going through BMT at the very least, that in the SAF, if you lose something, you're never going to get it back. So he reported the loss, and on the pretext of searching for the wallet, the instructors turned our bunks upside down and took the opportunity to look for contraband (Mostly handphones, but a portable TV was found!). This served the dual purposes of deterring us from reporting lost items the next time, saving them loads of trouble, and getting people to do guard duties, saving them trouble choosing others, and satisfying their sadistic tendencies. Also, thanks to Mr Ass Man (as some of us call him), we did jumping jacks - 25 counts of 8, to weed out those who'd put their phones in their underwear. Of course, everyone had tucked them in tightly, so among the whole lot, only one Nokia battery fell out. And Mr Ass Man, ever considerate, gave us an lights off timing half an hour earlier - 10pm, for us to recover from our exertion. Nobody in my platoon got caught for contraband, though something much worse was discovered on someone (Hush!). Ahh, the kindness our instructor showed to us, giving us advance notice of the inspection by telling us they were checking for "bunk damages" (ahem). And Bruneians are very useful. They buy food back for you when they have a night off, you can hide in their bunk when you're pretend you're at Friday prayers but actually want to sleep and you can let them take care of your handphones! And in the end, the person probably didn't get his wallet back too. On a personal note, mine own personal communications device (just my luck. I bring it in on May Day and they check us. I'm jinxed!) was hidden in a place most ingenious. If I say so myself.

On Saturday, they went even crazier. They'd inspected the bunks in the morning, and some bunks' rubbish hadn't been brought down, and the bunks were generally not in standby condition. So they messed our bunks up themselves. My bunk was locked, so they vented their frustration by dumping a garbage bag full of garbage (and some mud, besides) at our door. On the pretext of that, and other miscellaneous things like people not coming back to endorse their MCs (those gotten over the weekend or during a night off) before going off for their sick rest (that policy is rather dumb, we all think), we had a mild torture session, many stand-by-beds, a bookout delayed till 2:10, a bookin brought up to 9pm (up from 10:30pm - in Units it's 11:59pm, and that means the time you enter the camp and not the time you report in a platoon in army T-shirt, shorts and shoes with a full waterbottle) and a withdrawal of our "privileges" - booking in/out is in Smart 4 from now on and we've no more nights off. They've probably lost their ISO certification by now! :) I wonder how many people are going to take an MC over this weekend.

And now, back to the roughly chronological narrative.

When I returned, there were the expected jibes about my hair. I got called "recruit". Bah. It's not that much shorter than Zhang's, and *he* doesn't get teased, though he does regret cutting his as short as it is too.

On Monday, I almost brought in my phone, but I backed out at the last minute. Other people bring theirs to Guard Duty and lectures, and I don't even bring mine in. Ahh, I think, if for nothing else, I'll bring mine in to spite the SAF.

The cookhouse likes to give fancy names to the food, probably to distract us from the bad taste. Seen on the menu before are dishes like: "Tasty Tientsin Cabbage" and "Imported Celery With Carrot". But pseudo-Western food takes the cake. On Friday we had "Chicken Chasseur" (Tomato sauce chicken), "Fish fillet ala Meuniere" (Lemon sauce deep fried fish) and "Vichy carrot" (Steamed carrots). This reminds me of the restaurant owner in Plaak who introduced one dish to us as "Tu2 Er3 Qi2 Bao1 Qing1 Cai4" (Turkey ? Green Vegetables). Anyhow, the receptivity ratings for April are out. There's been a total plunge of 6% across the 4 meals. Gasp. We've been speculating about the definition of receptivity recently, actually, and I think we have the answer - it measures the percentage of people who bother to collect their food (no matter how many throw all or most of it away later). So the rest hate the food so much that they go on a hunger strike, or refuse to collect the food, risking getting charged. The food's that bad! *Grin* On Monday the cookhouse boss had a bright idea, that of giving us peanut porridge for our night snack. Most people didn't take any, and when we went back to the bunk, I offered people a real nightsnack - the rest of my Carte d'Or Hazelnut Chocolate! And on Saturday, we got "Egg Mayonnaise" for breakfast. Not only was it hot, there was probably more butter than Mayo in the damn thing.

It's freaky. Yew Jin's heart is so close to his skin that, when he removes his shirt and looks straight ahead, you can see his heart beating.

When the Bruneians have a night off, they can come back at 2-3am. Gah.

I was marching by the training sheds on my way up from the most god-forsaken public phone in the camp on monday when I heard somebody playing the trumpet. Going up, I chatted a bit with the player. Turns out his bunk mates were complaining about his playing, so he moved to that relatively secluded spot.

On Tuesday, which was mega-lecture day (10 lectures in all!), Zhang and I were discussing computer games and it turns out we've played many of the same games. From the days of the computers with no hard disks and only 5.25 floppy drives, we've both played Alley Cat (well, who hasn't?), Way of the Bushido and Ninja. Pity he didn't have enough RAM for Darksun: Shattered Lands.

On Tuesday, one person liked shorts so much that he booked out in pants, then took them off to reveal the shorts once he was out of the gate.

Iskandar's modified dismissal cheer: Seek safe sex. Magic [Johnson]! [Cf original: Seek, save, serve. Medic!]

For a while, Folie was given to repeatedly singing, "You're wasting my time". Irritating. Lucky he's tired of it.

Guard duty on Wednesday was incredibly boring. And it was Labour Day too. Better than a weekend, though. Luckily, we'd all prepared ourselves suitably by starving our bodies of sleep the night before. I thought I'd clocked a respectable time by sleeping at 1:30am, but Guan Hong hit 2am and Yew Yew took the prize with a mind-shattering 4:00am. Again, I got the post of sentry. It's boring, but at least you don't have to walk. And I got a chair for 3 hours! The food was terrible - lunch was totally hot, and since the canteen wasn't open I couldn't satiate my hunger there. We had 2 sets of turnouts, the first consisiting of 4 turnouts and latter 3. And all this while, the fire picket people got to sleep, except for a brief spate of camp cleanup in the morning. Especially Steven, who was asleep almost all the time.

When you've nothing to do while on guard duty, you muse. So now I've recalled some stuff to add to my already overly long About Me page. While sitting at the guard post, I saw this guy across the road, riding on a motorised bicycle. You don't see many of those around: I can probably count the number I've seen on one hand, let alone the number of appendages on my body.

It seems Mr Kamal and Mr Lim are Combat Medics too. Ooo. They must be much better than inept me.

The HQ platoons have walkie talkies that look like handphones. I've no idea why.

On Thursday, the Medical Officer trainees came in, in the OCS Waiter attire, and they were issued with laptop bags. They looked rather odd marching in the white top and black pants, carrying their "laptops". And their drill wasn't very good either :) But their course is not as relaxed as some of us were led to believe - they've done some running, and we've seen them marching and running in long 4 with rifles high ported.

Hospitals all use the 20g needles (the one we've been using to practice IVs with), it's only the SAF which uses the 16g ones. Gah.

The Bruneian girls suggested giving me Entonox (pain relieving gas, 50% oxygen and 50% nitrous oxide) before IV to dull my pain. Heh.

I really suck at IV. I hate injections so much, yet I am so lousy at administering IVs. Of 4 attempts, I passed but 2, and the first 3 were on my dear buddy Guan Hong. And for the last, I had to jiggle in Joshua's flesh to find the vein. But I think I know why I'm so lousy - it's the anxiety factor, so if I calm down, I should be able to achieve a higher accuracy rate. I almost missed getting shot, but I was spotted in time. Wonder of wonders, I didn't even *cry* (a first!). There was just some leg movement and much heavy breathing. This amazing feat can be attributed to the very on-the-ball sergeant who was there all the time, employing the usual psyching tactics, like distracting me by talking to me, giving me a packet of Wide Open weave (WOW) to grasp in my left hand and trying to extract promises that I'd not make a sound or shed a tear. Of course, it didn't hurt that he took over from Kumar once the needle went in, so it was less painful. But for all his troubles, he still couldn't find my vein and had to withdraw without hitting blood. He's actually very nice, and he fights for welfare for us when he's around, but I still have a bad feeling about the combat phase.

Seeing the miracle of the soundless IV, my platoon mates commented that I "didn't scream". Well, if they thought my strangled cries of the previous weeks were screams, then they obviously had not heard me in my prime, like when:

- I had my BCG in Primary 6
- Jeremy whacked my festering BCG wound in Secondary 1 while Cheah Kum Lim was showing us around the RI Design Centre Art Gallery
- I was in the New Block in Sec 2 when Yong Chin stole my pencil case and ran off
- Wei Ling brought us to some installation dealing with lasers and Sanje pulled my hanky off my nose (Hey, I was weird even then, ok?)

Some of the Malays caught a giant spider and kept it for a while. It was as long as the distance between the tip of my middle finger and the area just past my wrist.

The smokers have started smoking in the bunk. And since my bed's near to the end where they smoke, I've to flee very often. The amount of smoking breaks they get seems more than adequate actually, but then I don't smoke, so.

Guan Hong likes my Marks And Spencer Honey Roast Ham flavour Crisps. Hehe.

Iskandar is also a fan of Sunny Bookshop. Mmm.

The canteen woman is very smart, she charges high prices for the items people want to eat. A hashbrown'll set you back $0.50, and a chicken wing $1!

Some of the female SAF uniformed staff come to camp in civilian clothes. Gah.

Chris' been proud of wearing 1 set of uniform per week, but the sergeant found out and he was told to change his set or sign one extra duty. Haha.

I kept wondering, on Friday, why I kept smelling Kumar and his indian smell. It turned out he'd been wearing the same set of uniform since Monday, through guard duty.

Something very disgusting happened on Friday. Fortunately, I did not witness it as I was slumbering, but from what I was told, Khairul, who always likes to parade naked in the bunk, went in front of Steven and started spanking his monkey. Steven proceeded to spray his anti-blister spray on Khairul's genitals and buttocks. Apparently they wanted to do it to me, but were sure that I'd cry and complain to the CO.

My food is always plundered by everyone else, because they're too lazy to bring in their own food. On Friday, I went to wash my ziploc back, and munificently let my bunk mates take some of my Ruffles, but when I returned, the packet had disappeared. Running outside, I was just in time to see the 6 Malays (the 8 in my bunk minus Iskandar and Raffie) finishing the chips, and I only got a few crumbs. And Saturday morning, I woke to Kumar apologising, giving me $5 and promising that they'd bring food in next week, as they had consumed my Wise Cottage Fries the night before. Because they had the decency to give me recompense, I'll not hoard my food. And this is all good stuff. As Chris remarked, the stuff I bring in can't be found in supermarkets. At least those that he goes to.

Apparently one of the instructors at SMM gained weight just to escape normal BMT. Hmm.

One thing I don't understand is why I always see RJ people around SMM. It's rather far to walk, and I'm not sure that they gain access to any new bus services.

Tim passed by my camp and he agrees it looks like a dump!


Quotes:

"[On my handphone] Just bring it in lah"

"Gabriel, I think you need to wear [a] bra already."

"[On my scribbling] Later [when you] ORD, you [can] go and write a comic. Confirmed funny one. (It'll definitely be funny)"

"Army, no need to be so garang one... I've learnt the art of slacking. See, now I also don't tie my boot lace already. (I don't, laces anymore)"

"[On my attempt at Mozart's Lacrymosa] Gabriel, you've such a sweet voice."

"[Khairuldin sings:] Tomorrow is my bookout day, loolah, loolah. Tomorrow is my bookout day, loolah loolah lay. [Someone else sings: No more Khairuldin!]"

"[On how to avoid getting my food stolen] All you need to do is bring a big bag of groceries and put pork in the centre."

"[On an instructor cursing] Use vulgar language. No more ISO already."

"[On a war] The regulars are behind. When all of you die, then we come out. (Only when, will)"

"[On a war] When the enemy invades, you're going to go, 'I'm [PES] C9, please do not shoot me."

"[On someone who was very bitter] I think he doesn't have a girlfriend. I think he can't get into the U, that's why he's so disappointed."

"[On 2 RJ girls we saw outside SMM] Judging by the tits, not more than 12 years old."

"[On starting IVs with a 20g needle] No, we just want you to get comfortable. [Trainee: Then next time start with 100 {gauge}]... Poke mosquito."

"[On the Medical Officer Conversion Course trainees] Bloody hell, they look like Waiters' Association like that. (the Waiters' Association)"

"[On our 10pm lights off timing] Primary school kids sleep later than us."


I've decided to remove "Slave" from my icq info to avoid being picked up by BDSM aficionados.

I wonder if they still have those gimmicky vending machines where you can "dial a drink" and which is an utter waste of money, both to install and to use, with no discernable benefits for either producer or consumer.