temporary reprive

Its raining now, manna from the sky dropping on the parched earth. Dry grass soaking up its goodness, trees sigh their relief.

We stay in bunk, temporary confinement, as we wait out the weather. The cool breeze blows through, emitting their siren call. We, mere men, powerless again their magic, heed their call; to rest, to sleep.

Our men in their rooms, our sergeants, plot our doom, our ruin. Other men in green plough through the jungle, soaked to the bone, chilled to the heart. The siren call goes unheeded, blocked out by the shouting of the RSM and their own pounding heart, as they trek to one checkpoint after another.

But we lie in our bunks, books, phones, PSPs in our hands, knowing all too well it is a temporary reprive. An uneasy settlement.


---

approximations

Many National Servicemen buy bolsters.

Many National Servicemen are lonely.

Its not as unrelated as we think.


---

don't sign random pieces of paper

Officer: (plonks down forms for CL and S)
S: (stares at form) what's all this sir?
Officer: Never you mind, just fill it all up and return it asap.
CL: (peers at form) But sir, haven't we already handled this particular form in?
(The officer has, a mere few seconds earlier, made his getaway)
S: No use mate, he's made a run for it. (shrugs) I guess we've better get cracking.

- Couple of hours later -

S: Here are the forms that you wanted sir, both CL's and mine.
Officer: Ah, thank you.
S: (ahem) Sir, wouldn't you tell us a bit more about what the forms are for?
Officer: Oh, the other lot is short of men so we're posting you out during the exercise. Personal signalers to their Master Warrent (Officer) I believe. (Looking slyly at S) Wonder why they're short though...
S: (...) Would it be too late to take back the forms sir?
Officer: (vague smile before making his exit, down stage left)

*footnote* Warrent Officers, are the terror of the army, their main job being to enforce discipline, something they do very well.

S: (sadly informs CL about the outcome)
CL: (shakes head) can't trust 'em officers, not one bit.


---

commitment issues

"You have commitment issues, I understand"

Sharp, slightly condescending and painfully brutal; especially when it means so much to me, more then the dreary job I'm forced into, when it forms a part of the world of hope and dreams I escape into when things gets too boring, too hopeless, too painful.

But yet I understand, perfectly well, logically sound. The issue has spun on its inevitable route; one man cannot serve two masters.

The long wait continues.


---

Ace sets the pace!

Got into my new unit a few days back, the 2nd Singapore Infantry Brigade, Signal Company. The Brigade with a Ace of Spaces as a logo. Interesting. However, that isn't our final destination, which is the ever elusive 16 C4i Battalion, which is forming up in JUNE! Till then, we listen to conflicting orders, advice that might not apply to us in the new unit, promises of doom as we switch over and a lack of blankets to cover us at night.

And we're participating in the YOG! Although we don't know whether we'll be deployed as ground staff (sir, the toilet is that way) or as mass dance teachers(!!!) Yes, the newest skill a signaler should be able to master, mass dance techniques! And apparently, a fuse blew somewhere in someone's mind. If it happens though, we are gearing up to fight to the death for the JC and poly slots.

We are slated to shift thrice in 1.5 years which means our house building plans (ie settling in and growing roots into our bunk) is delayed for a long while. Bureaucracy. Sucks. But after so many changes, we are quite used to the chaos. I think we'll grow to the place, after all it is quite a comfy hole we have here.

Many changes, the end is not yet in sight. I am thinking of gearing up for my Combat Skills Badge, an award normally awarded to SGTs and officers but available for us too. My left chest is feeling rather drafty...

---

Oh? Oh! Oh....

Best Trainee.

And I was the last person to know.

---

Good bye

Our bunks are empty.

Our beds lie bare.

The windows are firmly shut.

The shadows, starting to claim back what is rightfully theirs.

Only dust, and fast fading memories remain

Of what was Platoon 2, Batch 13/09, Tactical Communications & Training Company, Signals Institute.

Speed Through Skill, Signals!

---

the road to hell is paved with good intentions

I realised I'm too uptight about many things!

Money / Finances; because the guy has to bring home the bacon, a preprogrammed chinese application that can't be deleted.

Friendship; too choosy and somewhat neglectful.

Relationships; No money, no time, no desire.

Then it hit me, I'm such a boring person then! A scrooge with no friends and no relationships.

I set out with the best of intentions to transform myself through a hip and young campaign!

...

Then I realised that that would be exactly what a boring old civil servant would think of. Truely the road to hell is paved with good intentions, all the way to the fire pit.

here we go again

Hustle and bustle all around, packing bags and moving things about.

Leaving this home of carefully arranged towels, highly polished boots and blue sheets.

Happy yet apprehensive of the Big Change.

But our time is up and off we go.

Memories and stories packed carefully in our duffle bags

As we set sail to our latest port of call.

---

Mandai Hill Camp

16 C4i Battalion

Here we go again...

Boobs and Brains, or the deprivity of men stranded among other men for too long a period.

Scene: Parade Square. Private S,C,M,J sitting in neat rows and awaiting orders with the rest of the platoon. A platoon of OCTs, Officer Cadet Trainees, marches by, a female OCT within causing much commotion.

S: (Stares at a female OCT marching by)
C: (Observes S's intent look) Whattheheck dude!
S: Hey now, at least she's easy on the eyes then the rest of the dudes here.
C: Easy on the eyes? What, are you blind? If it came to that choice I rather be gay!
M: I would bang anything that moves!
S/C: You would. S: What happened to character and smarts and whatnot? Brains! Thats what attract me!
J: But didn't you go leering at her? Don't tell me were staring at the size of her head?
M: (snicker) Its pretty much flat country we've got there!
S: You're getting it all wrong! I believe in everything, there is a balance. Thus, if a girl's too pretty, she loses out someplace else.
M: I prefer bigger boobs to brains!
C: You would.
J: Actually, I like girls like that too!
S: Is everyone mad? Doesn't anyone appreciate character anymore?
C: ... Too much character is bad for health.
M: And it works for ugly girls too! Cover the top, screw the base!
S: How did this conversation turn out this way?

The OCTs leave for lessons. Our sergeant turns up for our own.

M: Sergeant, would you want that Female OCT to stay on?
Sergeant: No way, her Boobs are far too small.

---

EDIT: Unfortunately, this story is based on a true story...

...