One Year On
I attended the Commissioning Parade for the 71/08 batch of officer cadets at SAFTI on 13th December 2008.
The day that these guys finally receive their epaulettes, each with a golden bar sewn on it, was also the day that marks my 365th day in National Service. For those officer cadets who were in the same PTP batch as me, this date is extremely significant.
One year ago they were blur recruits who could only take orders from superiors, who stepped onto the Tekong soil with much trepidation, who looked ridiculous in their crew cut; one year on they are the ones who call the shots now, they are now the superiors, they are the ones who give orders which many must follow, they are now the ones with much pride and honour.
Even though I wasn't the one being commissioned, I felt extremely happy for those officer cadets standing on the parade square, whose heads were held high in their very best bearings. And especially so for those close to me, for they have done so much that I wouldn't have been able to accomplished.
Extreme physical trainings, countless rounds around the parade sqaure in No. 4 with boots plus tonnes of unnecessary load on your back, 9 days or so in the remote jungles of Brunei and Taiwan, ridiculously high expectations from your superiors in the school, endless opportunities for suspension of privileges... the list goes on. Sheesh, I certainly can't do that. I probably need prescriptions for anti-depressants.
Those guys on that parade square donned in the supremely-smart No. 1 uniform did what many of us can never achieve, and they certainly would have all my respect. Well, even though some of them were jerks during school days, and that I'd never really like them, I still clapped and cheered when they threw their caps up in the air in celebration of their official commissioning.
The What-Ifs kept haunting me recently, especially since it is now the one-year anniversary of my service for the country. What if I had chosen to work towards OCS during my BMT days and not do absolutely nothing for SIT test and IPPT in attempt to avoid being enrolled into OCS? What if I really made it to OCS, would I survive? What if I had known that my clearance is high enough to get myself into RSAF, and what if I know that trainings for officer cadets in Air Force School is bearable for my standards, would I have ticked the "Yes" box when asked if I want to go to command school?
I can still vividly remember how proud I was that day when I, without much hesistation, ticked "No" to command school and was certain that I would never look back and regret at my arguably rashful decision. Until recently.
Nostalgia is Evil, with that capital E. It makes people look back, and in doing so, people start regretting. It prohibits us from moving on and it hallucinoses us into believing that our past is better our current state(s).
And you start remembering your first day on Tekong, your first week, your first 5BX, your first interaction with your bunk mates, with your platoon mates, your first PC interview, your first time having to stand up in the middle of your breakfast and dinner at 6 A.M. and 6 P.M. respectively for the raising and lowering of the flags.
Day 1 was about the formulation and fine-tuning of our grand plan to escape from that island which, then, was perceived as cursed by many of us. Hijacking a fishing sampan that frequents the waters nearby, take a bit of soil each day and slowly reclaim our way back to mainland and feigning a serious injury so that we can hijack the Super Puma and fly our way back home were some of our silly options.
Eventually, we did leave the island for good, by taking one of those Penguin ferries. Our last ride on those ferries. After 13 weeks of proper basic military training.
Oh boy, as cursed the place may be, I still miss Tekong.
Everything just felt... different, back then. We were nervous, cautious and ridiculously ignorant about living on the island and survivng the trainings. We abide by whatever rules and regulations that we were taught or instructed. Without fail. Should we breach one of their rules, we fear. We tremble. We mumble in defence. We sometimes cry.
But not now. We heck care a lot of things. We follow the age-old unorthodox rule of "do but don't get caught" and had broken so many rules already. We no longer fear, because we now know what to do, and what's best not for us to attempt.
Things in unit life are just different from that in Tekong. Even the air in Tekong smells a lot different. Unpolluted air, just like our innocent mindset we once had during the first 3 months of our enlistment.
And now, we've learnt so much, so much so that we can heck care a lot of things. We do the bare minimum. Like for IPPT, a lot of us just aim for a pass, just so that they can be promoted.
Yes, I am guilty of being one of them who does the bare minimum.
But a trip to the commissioning parade and Zouk Out! after that put things into perspective. A golden circular badge with the silhouette of a running figure sewn on it can be found on the left sleeves of almost every single officer cadet; and almost every single guy who took off their clothes at the beach party had a body that most other men would die for.
And then I look at myself. I am nowhere near physically fit or physically attractive.
And then I am reminded of my own heck care attitude towards a lot of things.
What the fuck have I actually achieved, I asked myself.
Do you want to achieve something meaningful in your NS, or do you just want to slack off your two years achieving nothing, my first PC during my BMT had asked. "Are you proud to tell others that you were a clerk for your two years in NS?"
I feel inspired. To make a change. To make a difference. In my life.
Probably like what Jing Jie, one of my best friends made in BMT, had written on his Christmas card to me, I am an over-achiever. I've got fabulous a PSLE score, I'd done well in Chinese High, got into the top class, obtained a Silver medal for my science project in the Singapore Science and Engineering Fair, 8 distinctions for 'A'-Levels and the Prime Minister Book Prize 2008.
Like what Survivor: Gabon contestant Crystal Cox had said, when you are at the top for so long, it's hard to accept defeat.
As a top student from a top school, the masses has created and inoculated you a lionized persona, which means the acknowledgement of any kind of failure would represent a complete contradiction to your public image. The perceived perfection of us top students has been built up to such extent that we can no longer afford anything less than complete success.
Success, in the case of National Service, would mean to make it to OCS.
I have failed, according to the standards of the masses. I didn't make it to OCS. Just because I'd stubbornly believed that I really wanted to slack my two years away when my first PC asked us that question.
But I don't wish to continue to be a loser. I really need to do something.
Make that Resolution No. 1 for the year 2009. To make a difference.
For a start, I guess I need to start working out. Intensity of my gym routines need to be increased. More runnings are to be conducted. Swim as much as I could during my two-hour lunch break.
Jia Wei (who is an officer now) has this MSN nickname right now as I'm typing this: live no regrets. moving on.
I want to live with no regrets. But nostalgia is Evil. It's hard to move on. It makes me melancholic. It makes me want to listen to Dido's "Grafton Street" again and again.
It's all the what-ifs. Maybe I still haven't fully adjusted to being at the bottom of the society, albeit for two years only.
Enough of words. Readers want pictures, so here we go:
My SJAB mate Jeremy, with his parents putting the epaulettes on his shoulders:
Jun Quan, Jia Wei, Yan Min and me:
Me and Jun Quan:
Me and Chin Kiat:
Me and Gerard, my BMT platoon mate:
Most of them lost weight. And they really lost a lot. It certainly had been hard on them.
The day that these guys finally receive their epaulettes, each with a golden bar sewn on it, was also the day that marks my 365th day in National Service. For those officer cadets who were in the same PTP batch as me, this date is extremely significant.
One year ago they were blur recruits who could only take orders from superiors, who stepped onto the Tekong soil with much trepidation, who looked ridiculous in their crew cut; one year on they are the ones who call the shots now, they are now the superiors, they are the ones who give orders which many must follow, they are now the ones with much pride and honour.
Even though I wasn't the one being commissioned, I felt extremely happy for those officer cadets standing on the parade square, whose heads were held high in their very best bearings. And especially so for those close to me, for they have done so much that I wouldn't have been able to accomplished.
Extreme physical trainings, countless rounds around the parade sqaure in No. 4 with boots plus tonnes of unnecessary load on your back, 9 days or so in the remote jungles of Brunei and Taiwan, ridiculously high expectations from your superiors in the school, endless opportunities for suspension of privileges... the list goes on. Sheesh, I certainly can't do that. I probably need prescriptions for anti-depressants.
Those guys on that parade square donned in the supremely-smart No. 1 uniform did what many of us can never achieve, and they certainly would have all my respect. Well, even though some of them were jerks during school days, and that I'd never really like them, I still clapped and cheered when they threw their caps up in the air in celebration of their official commissioning.
The What-Ifs kept haunting me recently, especially since it is now the one-year anniversary of my service for the country. What if I had chosen to work towards OCS during my BMT days and not do absolutely nothing for SIT test and IPPT in attempt to avoid being enrolled into OCS? What if I really made it to OCS, would I survive? What if I had known that my clearance is high enough to get myself into RSAF, and what if I know that trainings for officer cadets in Air Force School is bearable for my standards, would I have ticked the "Yes" box when asked if I want to go to command school?
I can still vividly remember how proud I was that day when I, without much hesistation, ticked "No" to command school and was certain that I would never look back and regret at my arguably rashful decision. Until recently.
Nostalgia is Evil, with that capital E. It makes people look back, and in doing so, people start regretting. It prohibits us from moving on and it hallucinoses us into believing that our past is better our current state(s).
And you start remembering your first day on Tekong, your first week, your first 5BX, your first interaction with your bunk mates, with your platoon mates, your first PC interview, your first time having to stand up in the middle of your breakfast and dinner at 6 A.M. and 6 P.M. respectively for the raising and lowering of the flags.
Day 1 was about the formulation and fine-tuning of our grand plan to escape from that island which, then, was perceived as cursed by many of us. Hijacking a fishing sampan that frequents the waters nearby, take a bit of soil each day and slowly reclaim our way back to mainland and feigning a serious injury so that we can hijack the Super Puma and fly our way back home were some of our silly options.
Eventually, we did leave the island for good, by taking one of those Penguin ferries. Our last ride on those ferries. After 13 weeks of proper basic military training.
Oh boy, as cursed the place may be, I still miss Tekong.
Everything just felt... different, back then. We were nervous, cautious and ridiculously ignorant about living on the island and survivng the trainings. We abide by whatever rules and regulations that we were taught or instructed. Without fail. Should we breach one of their rules, we fear. We tremble. We mumble in defence. We sometimes cry.
But not now. We heck care a lot of things. We follow the age-old unorthodox rule of "do but don't get caught" and had broken so many rules already. We no longer fear, because we now know what to do, and what's best not for us to attempt.
Things in unit life are just different from that in Tekong. Even the air in Tekong smells a lot different. Unpolluted air, just like our innocent mindset we once had during the first 3 months of our enlistment.
And now, we've learnt so much, so much so that we can heck care a lot of things. We do the bare minimum. Like for IPPT, a lot of us just aim for a pass, just so that they can be promoted.
Yes, I am guilty of being one of them who does the bare minimum.
But a trip to the commissioning parade and Zouk Out! after that put things into perspective. A golden circular badge with the silhouette of a running figure sewn on it can be found on the left sleeves of almost every single officer cadet; and almost every single guy who took off their clothes at the beach party had a body that most other men would die for.
And then I look at myself. I am nowhere near physically fit or physically attractive.
And then I am reminded of my own heck care attitude towards a lot of things.
What the fuck have I actually achieved, I asked myself.
Do you want to achieve something meaningful in your NS, or do you just want to slack off your two years achieving nothing, my first PC during my BMT had asked. "Are you proud to tell others that you were a clerk for your two years in NS?"
I feel inspired. To make a change. To make a difference. In my life.
Probably like what Jing Jie, one of my best friends made in BMT, had written on his Christmas card to me, I am an over-achiever. I've got fabulous a PSLE score, I'd done well in Chinese High, got into the top class, obtained a Silver medal for my science project in the Singapore Science and Engineering Fair, 8 distinctions for 'A'-Levels and the Prime Minister Book Prize 2008.
Like what Survivor: Gabon contestant Crystal Cox had said, when you are at the top for so long, it's hard to accept defeat.
As a top student from a top school, the masses has created and inoculated you a lionized persona, which means the acknowledgement of any kind of failure would represent a complete contradiction to your public image. The perceived perfection of us top students has been built up to such extent that we can no longer afford anything less than complete success.
Success, in the case of National Service, would mean to make it to OCS.
I have failed, according to the standards of the masses. I didn't make it to OCS. Just because I'd stubbornly believed that I really wanted to slack my two years away when my first PC asked us that question.
But I don't wish to continue to be a loser. I really need to do something.
Make that Resolution No. 1 for the year 2009. To make a difference.
For a start, I guess I need to start working out. Intensity of my gym routines need to be increased. More runnings are to be conducted. Swim as much as I could during my two-hour lunch break.
Jia Wei (who is an officer now) has this MSN nickname right now as I'm typing this: live no regrets. moving on.
I want to live with no regrets. But nostalgia is Evil. It's hard to move on. It makes me melancholic. It makes me want to listen to Dido's "Grafton Street" again and again.
It's all the what-ifs. Maybe I still haven't fully adjusted to being at the bottom of the society, albeit for two years only.
Enough of words. Readers want pictures, so here we go:
My SJAB mate Jeremy, with his parents putting the epaulettes on his shoulders:
Jun Quan, Jia Wei, Yan Min and me:
Me and Jun Quan:
Me and Chin Kiat:
Me and Gerard, my BMT platoon mate:
Most of them lost weight. And they really lost a lot. It certainly had been hard on them.
小权纯裕郎 自作自秀@at
3:08 pm
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