NSFs - our very own Banglas, if much weaker and grossly less efficient

We just had our third bunk/furniture moving in 8 months. The second was totally pointless, and the first and this only slightly less so. The abbreviated story is as follows: For BMT, the companies didn't have enough furniture, so HQ moved its furniture down, and got double decker beds and new cupboards. After BMT, some people got posted out and though some were posted in, not enough were posted to make up for the shortfall, so there were extra beds and cupboards. Now, we're having a fourth company, so our double decker beds and cupboards are being sent there, and we are getting our old cupboards and beds back. Now, what we did is the most obvious thing to do in the situations we were faced with, but it is hardly the most elegant solution and some of its many faults will be detailed shortly. I am sure that a better solution could have been conceived, for after all, the SAF is famed for its efficiency, ingenuity and logistical expertise.

I think that, if we'd all contributed $3-5 of our own money to a common pot, we'd have been able to hire maybe 30 banglas [Ed: Affectionate term for Bangladeshi Workers] - our modern day Stakhanovites, and pillars of the modern Singapore economy - to do the bunk shifting, instead of using over 100 of us. This would be possible since they are so much better at doing what they do than we are - it takes 6 of us to move a cupboard up one flight of stairs, but 2 banglas can carry the same cupboard up 3 flights without even breaking a sweat. We would even be able to throw in free breakfast and lunch, killing 2 birds with 1 stone, since our rations are always under-consumed. In fact, if the unit had used the money they'd spent on giving us, a few weeks before, notebook covers with the Battalion logo and vision on them, to hire the banglas, we'd all have appreciated this more. If we'd hired Banglas, we would then have been freed of 2 days of meaningless labour and left to do more productive things, to make (marginally) better use of our various talents and skills.

Now, it's not just because we're lazy that we advocated the hiring of the banglas. There is, as always, a more tenable (to the SAF) reason. With all this furniture shifting, a significant amount of the furniture has suffered irreversible damage - many scratches have appeared on the cupboards, drawer keys have gone missing, clothes hooks have broken, metal parts securing cupboard doors have disappeared, wooden beams on bedframes to support the mattresses have broken, some mattresses have lost their bounciness and burst springs and more. If nothing else, with the number of mirrors that were broken, 42SAR will have bad luck for the next few decades. Now, if we'd hired banglas, who are greatly more skilled at such tasks, and further, can be charged for damages, I doubt if we'd have a tenth of the furniture damage that we now have. Thanks to the SAF's shortsightedness, it had now incurred a greater cost for itself - damaged furniture which will have to be replaced sooner.

Incidentally, at one point we were told to put on our shirts because it was a "safety" issue - without them we'd "get scratched". Like the shirts would protect us much against scratches anyway. And what about the greater risk of heat stroke? Would that not have been more of a safety hazard than scratches?


SAF and the Media

FOUR Singapore Armed Forces soldiers were injured yesterday morning when a bullet, jammed in the chamber of a heavy machine gun, exploded in their faces as they tried to dislodge it.

The incident occurred during a live-firing exercise, after the 0.5-inch calibre weapon mounted on an armoured vehicle jammed while a full-time NSman was firing it.

The stuck round exploded while the NSman and a safety officer tried to rectify the problem.

The soldier who had been firing the gun was the most seriously wounded - shrapnel from the exploding round hit his face and eyes.

He is now in a stable condition and is warded at the National University Hospital.

The safety officer and two other full-time NSmen nearby were also hurt.

They suffered minor injuries and received outpatient treatment at the hospital.

All four soldiers, aged between 20 and 24, are trainees at the SAF's Armour Training Centre at Sungei Gedong Camp in Lim Chu Kang.

I was at first pleasantly surprised that this incident was reported in the papers with only minor inaccuracies the following day and on CNA the same day, for even though there has been a welcome move towards transparency recently, I didn't think that they'd be so forthright. Later, however, the real reason was revealed - the press was at the gates of our camp less than an hour after the event. I assume someone had tipped them off.

Now, MINDEF does not like to report this sort of incident for a variety of reasons: the negative publicity and the loss of trust in the SAF, people knowing that it injures its slaves now and then, speculation and (the most charitable explanation) that it is best to wait for the investigation to conclude, to establish the facts definitively.

Negative publicity should not be an issue, for the SAF should be able to defend its actions and practices in public, if it is able. If it is not, no one should be able to censor such news with the excuse that it would cause a loss of trust in the SAF, for then it would be justified.

Speculation is feared for it could lead to confusion and misconceptions arising in the public, especially in the absence of an official, definitive version of the facts. However, speculation thrives best in the fertile ground of uncertainty and silence, and the SAF, in keeping mum about facts until investigations are complete, and holding slaves to silence with ominous and vague threats, is actually sowing the seeds of its downfall, for there is no harm releasing preliminary findings, or even eyewitness reports, for if nothing is said, it is usually assumed that there is something to hide.

Even if we accept the last explanation, it does seem fortuitous that by the time the investigation ends, no one will care about the incident if it isn't too major, and it will be relegated to a footnote in the papers, below a story about how a cat was saved from an angsana tree by brave firemen, and no one will think to question the why and wherefore of the incident, for news is current and immediate, and no one cares about stale news. If we accepted this kind of excuse, all the news we got would be 2 months old, having had to be researched and vetted by a committee ensuring that the "true facts" of the incident were reported.

Furthermore, the public has a right to know how the flower of their youth are sacrificing their eyesight in the name of Our Defense, especially since this is an army of slaves, press-ganged and thrust wide-eyed into a dangerous new world, and not regulars who have made a Faustian bargain, sacrificing their freedom (and much else) for duty, honour, glory and - dare I say - money.


My 8km route march

As part of our training for Exercise Lancer, we had a 8km route march. As usual, I was placed at the front. Why they persist in placing me at the front dring runs, route marches and what not, I do not know, for I inevitably end up at the back, in the "Gabriel detail". What is more, I block all the people trying to overtake me and get prematurely tired out trying to keep up with the rest at first.

By the time the rest of the company had reached the rest point at the 4km mark, I was about 600m behind the rest of them, so they got a little more rest than they would have gotten otherwise. About midway through the 5th (of 6th) round, a clip on my field pack fortuitiously broke while I was taking it off my shoulders. I then brought it all the way to the safety minivan by bear-hugging it and carried on. My load was now lighter, but after an initial burst of energy, it seemed almost as hard as ever to continue, due to my generalised exhaustion and foot pain (both due to blisters and my collapsed arches).

Near the ending of the last round, I felt my strength ebbing and my breathing became more laboured. I tried to slow down. Then the "motivation" started. People were understandably upset, for they'd walked with me at my torturingly slow pace and wasted a lot of time. However, I'd never asked them to walk with me, and would rather have had them go on by themselves.

The lines and insults that people like to shout to "motivate" others never work on me, for they appeal to my non-existent sense of male pride. Nevertheless, in some odd way they do drag my mental state down.

"Are you a pussy or are you a man?"
Now, obviously one answer is meant to have negative connotations, and another positive ones. Not to me, though. Though I have some antipathy towards cats, pussies are cute, sweet, innocent, lovable and soft. And they purr. To be a "man", on the other hand, has connotations of insensitivity, thinking with your gonads, having no empathy, being testosterone driven and placing value in empty things like puerile physical or foolhardy feats. Anyhow, I never asked to be born male, and to expect ALL males to possess certain attributes and characteristics is sexist. If females can be soldiers, it follows that not all males are suited to be enslaved.

"I let you take off your field pack already, what else do you want?"
Interesting question. How about not having a field pack in the first place? How about not doing the route march? How about being in another unit? How about ORDing now? How about not being enslaved in the first place? While we're there, I would also like someone back, a million in the bank, the Cure for Cancer to be discovered and World Peace.

And so, the cumulative stress was too much to bear, and I broke down again, like I did at the 12km checkpoint of the 16km route march last September - crying, screaming, ululation, lying on the road and banging my fists on the tarmac, and I had to be hauled up and led bodily to the end point.

It is also upsetting that some people seem to think that this is all an act. I suppose only the sight of mangled dead bodies would convince them of the truth of the matter. Oh wait. Death need not necessarily be an intention - it could just be an act gone wrong.


In Sungei Gedong

We had stairs training, starting off with SBO attire and just over half an hour of clambering up the staircases. This was considered "light" and already I felt like fainting. This is not looking good. And apparently it can lead to osteoarthritis in 2-3 decades' time, so we won't be able to claim money from the SAF for it.

I swear - nowadays, 75% of the time, one of the two choices of breakfasts we get is either "fried egg noodles" or "fried Hongkong noodles", and I am unable to discern any difference between the two of them. Furthermore, by the time I eat breakfast, there is almost always only one choice left. Namely, the fried egg/Hongkong noodles. Now, I like fried egg/Hongkong noodles, but eating it almost daily is making me sick.

SFI experiments in breakfast foods can go horribly wrong - who can forget such abominations as the "curry pao" and "sardine pao" from Islamic Food Industries? However, one experiment that has come out well is the "vegetable pao", provided by Khong Guan. This is actually a pao which has soon kueh stuffing inside. It might not sound very nice, but it does taste quite good. Incidentally, I suspect that SFI provides its food suppliers with convenient guinea pigs (ie us) to test out new products, since I've never seen the "vegetable pao" outside of SFI cookhouses, nor, come to think of it the "curry pao" or "sardine pao".

A recent tasty cookhouse innovation is the "Eight Treasure" vegetable dish. I tried counting the ingredients and came up with the following: cauliflower, broccoli, two types of mushrooms (one button), red pepper, green pepper, yellow pepper, celery and carrot. That's 9 ingredients. Oh well.

The fourth combat company of 42SAR has enlisted, and is now doing BMT. This puts them out of sync with the rest, but I guess they're supposed to be special. Hell, they even get Vitamin C pills every night - maybe the SAF is trying to train Biologically-Enhanced Warriors. They new company's name has been changed from "Cougar" to "Paladin". This makes slightly more sense in the sense that "P" is closer to "J", "K", "L" and "S", but breaks with the Great Tradition of naming each company after a cat. Thus, I have chosen to call "P" Company "Pussy" Company.

Some things that piss me off:
- being kept away from my workplace constantly because of various stupid activities, and then being expected to perform my job as if I were around all the time. If it comes down to it, I think I've done less than I am expected to do, but more than I could be reasonably expected to
- people stealing my stationery, especially stationery that I've paid and isn't SAF-issued
- people taking my "stores" for granted, yet refusing to help me acquire more for immediate consumption

Medical Centre

Someone was playing with his saliva and making sounds with it, and a big glob fell on the floor. Ugh. I thought people stopped playing with saliva in primary school.

During enlistment day of my unit's fourth company, there was an obligatory tour of the medical centre, and desperate people were peeking through the blinds at the ah lians and aunties. I remarked on this giving negative utility and someone pointed out that they had nothing better to do. I was amused at someone bringing his dog along, though.

Early one morning at about 7:15, I was proceeding to the medical centre to take over as duty medic. My beret was on, and my lightly-laden (for once) bag slung over my shoulder. As I was entering the School of Armour car porch, a platoon-sized group in PT Kit was filing past. Suddenly, one of them turned around and the following exchange ensued:

Guy: Boss (?) tiam! Good morning Sir! *salutes me smartly*
Me: I'm not a "Sir". You can carry on. Thank you.

Their hair was too long for them to be recruits. Maybe it was too early for their brains to be functioning properly, and they needed blood to go to their heads (the classic SAF excuse for knocking people down).

Whenever I'm the duty medic, my grand staff - made of the finest Ironwood and tipped with a circlet of green jade - will appear: the symbol of my power and authority as the Duty Medic. More importantly, it lets me shut the door without getting out of my seat, and also to thwack people on their butts.

I was sweeping the floor while on duty, and must have looked very lousy and pathetic, for some sickbay patients offered to help me if I lent them my charger. Quite a fair quid pro quo, I think, though some people accused me of exploiting them.

People were inoculating new recruits, and I noticed that almost all of the injection sites had trickles of blood flowing from them. Interestingly, my record is about 1 in 20 injections leading to blood flowing from the site.

Misc SAF

My boots were wet during a river crossing, so my favourite Poor Suffering Substantive Third Sergeant lent me his Gore-Tex boots as my parade boots had mysteriously shrunk. It was the first time I'd worn the new design, and I have to say that they're overrated. There's little difference between well-seasoned boots of the old design and Gore-Tex ones.

The various disingeneous ploys used to "encourage" people are interesting to examine if the aren't being used on you. At the start, they tell you that you've just started, and that you can't give up so easily. When you've reached the midway mark, they say that you've finished half of the exercise and should feel accomplised. Only half of the exercise is left! Also, vague threats of remedial training are waved about. Finally, when you're near the end of the activity, you are told that you're almost done and that you shouldn't give up.

Apparently Captains and Majors visit SAF Psychiatrists as well. Oh well.


Quotes:

[On using real SAR 21s for the river crossing] It seems the 'dummy' is mutually exclusive. Either the person organising is a dummy, or the rifle is a dummy. (It seems that only one can be a dummy -)

[Sign on a laundrette door] Anyone who wanna use the laundrate room please seek permission from the COS or CSM (wants to use the laundrette) (Ed: Damnit, it's written on the door above this stupid sign!]

[On cadets] They're still quite nice people. Wait until they get commissioned, then they become fuckers. Can you imagine Swee Soon if he's commissioned? 'Eh. Hello! Hello!'

[Me to a nice guy about to be posted to a company for BMT: I cannot imagine you knocking down the recruits] Neither can I.

[On engineering] It's like a dump ground. Dumping ground.

[On my filing the medical dockets from the previous day] Why you put back? They're going to report sick again today. (did you put them)

[On me and my stick] You look like a Sergeant Major. Medical Centre Sergeant Major. MSM.

Gabriel, you should get a wife. [Me: So I can - stay out?] Someone to take care of you for the rest of your life (?)

[On the finer points of cursing in Hokkien] [Me: When do you say 'lan jiao' and when do you say 'jee bye'?] Jee bye is when you're du lan [Ed: Pissed off] over something. [Me: Lan jiao is...?] Lan jiao is when someone says something wrong. 'Lan jiao lah!'

We need comfort women in the camp. Then people won't mind staying in, I tell you. A lot of people will sign on... FFI for prostitutes.

[Dennis: Weng! Weng! Weng!] Is that Dennis or Ban Xiong? [Me: *points at Dennis* Ban Xiong doesn't make stupid noises] He doesn't make stupid noises. He only makes stupid comments.

[Me on the Lord of the Rings exhibition: You can see Arwen's dress] Arwen's underwear. [Someone: Only tubby will think of this kind of thing]

[Me on some Ah Lian: I see the crack of someone's ass] That's different. That's more elegant.