A Day in the Life of a Tank Commander

Being a tank commander isn’t an easy job these days. In older times, knights were unrivalled on the battlefield, cutting down peasants until their arms ached. Up to World War 2, the squeaking sound of a Jagdpanther’s wheels would send entire infantry companies running. Today, however, tank commanders get less glory than daring raids by commandos, or covert strikes by fighter pilots. So if you’ve ever wondered, here’s a look into the life of a tank commander.

A tank commander deals with a lot of responsibility, especially in keeping his men safe. Everyday maintenance on the Leopard 2SG Main Battle Tank involves lifting and swinging steel parts ranging from 1 to 15 tons. Walking around the gigantic vehicle shed, I spend my mornings directing and supervising tank crews as they service their tanks, watching out for their wellbeing. Every tank operator knows someone who has broken a finger working on the tank.

Some may imagine tank commanders eating, sleeping and perhaps talking with their tanks. In reality, we spend a lot more time with our men. Afternoons are spent training, teaching or bonding with them. It’s a favourite saying that there is no best tank, only the best crew. As a 19 year old tank commander in charge of other 19 year old tank crewmen, the amount of trust they put in you is truly humbling. Some even come from your high school. Earning and keeping their respect is difficult. Especially during our first overseas exercise in the Northern Australian deserts.

“Come on guys, let's clean this tank, then we can sleep.”

It was 2am and my tank crew had just returned from a hard day’s fight. The fatigue and ennui were obvious in their eyes as they dismounted.

“Can’t we clean it tomorrow, Sergeant?”

They looked at me with imploring eyes, longing for the light and warmth of the tents on the starry hill. I had every right to punish them, there and then, as their tank commander.

“You guys go rest. I’ll clean it myself.”  I turned and walked straight to the mud coated tank. They watched me go with astonished eyes.

I fought exhaustion as I scraped the dried, hardened mud off the engine air intakes. Every tank operator takes greatest pride in his tank because one day it will save his life, much like a soldier cleaning his rifle. If I couldn't teach my men that, I didn't deserve to lead them. Suddenly, I heard hurried footsteps approaching. It was my crew; they had gathered more people to help. My apologetically smiling gunner had a hot milo in his outstretched hand. Wordlessly, they got to work cleaning the tank. I stood aside and watched them, humbled by their actions.

Being a tank commander isn't about the glory. It’s about having pride in your tank, and a special bond with your crew. That night, I learned that command does not come with rank; it is earned when your men recognise you as their commander, whatever your age.

Wallaby Part.... Nah.

I've sorta given up on the Wallaby posts, looking through the rest of the source material, it really gets quite droll from here onwards. Besides, my writing and vocabulary just can't do the whole experience justice. So I guess I'll just post the photos, and maybe finish the rest of the posts when I have time.

I realized I haven't talked about anything else since.
Lets see...

GRADUATED FROM TCC.

Happy! :D

Swift & Decisive!

Finally finished 5 months of grueling training. They say the hardest steel on the tank is the crew, especially the commander. For 5 months, Tank Commander Course instructors worked tirelessly day and night forging 24 pieces of the hardest steel in Armour. Here's a heart felt thanks to Staff Patrick, Staff Peng, Staff Jeremy and Staff David and the rest of the command team. But that was just the beginning.

Welcome to 48 SAR.

"You'll be overworked and tired all the time. That I can promise." - Welcome address of OC 1st Coy.

Finally transitioned to unit life. Joined 1st Company 48 SAR.

1st Coy is a second year battalion, meaning that the men are from my exact BMT batch. Including Shaun Chiang, who is in Platoon 3. The command tree is fully staffed now, meaning me and the 7 other new sergeants are without a platoon or a crew until next year. So for now we're instructors and reserve commanders. Basically extra manpower, which every Tank Company can always use. Life in unit is pretty good. For now. We can visit the canteen whenever we like, also go out for nights out pretty much anytime we want, and sleep as late as we can survive. The gulf between men and commanders is huge. The men only eat cookhouse, lights out at 2230 and nights out every Wednesday.

On the other hand, we have to meticulously plan the next day's activities from manpower to logistics to lesson plans. That and coordinating with people from other units, which is sometimes like talking to a wall that nods from time to time. And the wall changes every now and then, such that you have to explain from the start. Gah. This is what real working life is supposed to be like. We have to maintain our image among the  men, and start trying to bond with them to win them over. Doesn't help that we're not officially their crew commanders yet, so the area is still pretty grey. 3 weeks already. Hopefully we'll get there.

Life in 48 will definitely be slower paced and more classified, since its an active battalion, so I'm guessing not so much will be going on the blog. Maybe I'll do game reviews here.

Wallaby Part 3

26th September 0800

Single Tank Battle Course! Day and Night firing. Prepared the tanks early in the morning, after which we did zeroing and boresighting and other boring technical stuff.

I'm such a morning person

 If you thought zeroing for a SAR21 was boring and difficult, try doing for a tank. MULPHA field was exactly that, a field. There was absolutely nothing for tens of kilometers around. No targets, no control tower, no firing lanes. Everything we had to set up. Target boards on iron pickets at the butt, a tonner for a control tower, and iron pickets with white tape to denote firing lanes. But anyway, we set up the targets concurrently and were ready to shoot by lunch. 

Constructing a firing range from scratch, from control tower to target boards

As the first detail mounted the tank, we were all aware that this was the first time we would ever fire a 120mm round. All the anticipation led up to this. As the first detail charged down the range, we watched it intently. 

"14C firing!" 

Silence

BOOM

An explosion that sent vibrations through the ground, and a chilling feeling down your spine. It wasn't exactly LOUD, I've heard louder things, such as an F16 taking off. But the immediate feeling is a vibration that goes right THROUGH you, giving the shock and spine chilling sensation. That's about as far as I can go describing it without flying you to Australia. 

For all you Battlefield 3 players out there who has always wondered, why the hell is there so much dust? The graphics are gorgeous, the lighting is so realistic, why would you spoil all that by adding in so much dust? Well the truth is, on an actual battlefield, a tank really does kick up that much dust.

What happens 0.5 seconds after the boom.

 As I stepped up to the plate, I was commander first. As I gave the order to fire, I stayed up in the commander's hatch and watched the target intently. Big mistake. As the round went off, the shockwave from the barrel, meters away from my face, knocked me back down into the commander's compartment. I also got a healthy mouthful of propellant exhaust and ringing ears for my trouble. I regained my senses and stayed down the next time I fired. The blast was surprisingly soft, being  inside the tank makes it much softer than being outside I guess. The whole tank still rocks back and forth when you fire though, so hang on to something.

After a fun filled day of firing, we transitioned to our night shoot. And boy was it dark. Forget Singapore dark. This was a new kind of dark, a can't-see-your-hand-in-front-of-your-face dark. At least Singapore had some glow on the horizon. This was scary. But the stars, oh the stars. The stars were out in force, in hundreds, forming shapes and patterns I had never seen before. But they had always been there, just invisible. I contemplated that for a while. Firing at night was pretty fun. A blast would momentarily light up the whole range, casting a striking silhouette of the tank. An orange beam of light of the tracer would arc majestically downrange before finally striking the target and burning out.

The thing about tracers and Australia's dry, hot weather. They don't go to well together. In short, after about 20 rounds, we managed to start a forest fire. The fire burned so hot and bright, that our Thermal imagers got over saturated after some time. The fire would continue to burn for the entire night, covering tens of square kilometers, only stopping sometime in the morning, because it literally ran out of stuff to burn. An unnatural fog covered the whole range the next morning, delaying the firing until the wind blew it away.

That's not supposed to happen.

Reminded me of Silent Hill 

Before.

After.

Wallaby Part 2

24th September Day 1 0232

After a 3 hour bus ride, which we all slept through, we reached Tiger Hill Camp in the middle of the night. Roughly awoken, we dragged ourselves out into the cold wind of the desert night. First time we experienced the cold of Australia. We dragged our heavy bags up the hill, about 400 meters in pitch darkness, swearing at the treacherous vegetation grasping at our ankles. Finally making it up to the cookhouse, it was a bleak sight. Row after row of tents, lit by naked yellow bulbs. We were briefed on the days to come, and sent to the cookhouse to eat our night snack.

Cookhouse

Almost but not quite, entirely unlike porridge

25th September 0900

Prepared for outfield, packed the 5 tonner trucks with stores and moved out. Our first stop, Single Tank Battle Course, at Mulpha. The Australian landscape is really beautiful. Just miles and miles of browned, knee high grass, scatterings of trees, and framed by majestic mountain ranges.

Packing the Target tonner

Welcome to the desert

TCC rolling in!

Setting up tentage at Mulpha

After everything had been set up, we walked the ground and started preparing for the shoot. We worked slowly, as this was unfamiliar territory, but managed to set up everything by night fall. That night we slept outside the tentage, confident it wouldn't rain in the desert. 

It rained that night. We pulled our sleeping bags around us and ignored it. When it became too heavy to ignore, we went to stand inside the tentage. No one got much sleep that night either. 

Wallaby

I'm back from Exercise Wallaby! Amazing experience, really. After the whole thing, you've learnt so much about the tank, about your own capabilities and about yourself. I feel like I can take anything the army throws at me now. Pretty tired now. I've got 5 day block leave, awesome. I actually managed to keep to my word and maintain a journal of my 23 day adventure. So in the next few posts, I'll transcribe everything onto this blog, complete with photos from my great friend and crewmate Andy Chee!

23rd September Day 0

Went to Changi Airport at 1130 to have lunch with family. Felt strange that I was going to be going alone, duffel bag and all. Met up with TCC at the airport. 

Everyone gathering at the gate, after browsing through the duty free shop 

 We entered only with our travel order and our 11Bs, something different from ordinary travelling. You don't even need your passport, just your 11B. Morale with pretty high, everyone's excited to be on this trip. It felt like going overseas with your friends, not a military exercise. Yet. Boarded the plane, MH8727. Malaysian Airlines, but a chartered flight. Doesn't beat SIA, but it was pretty good compared to what I expected. There was a movie screening, MIB 3 and Prometheus. The food served was ok, not bad for airline food, but no alcohol.

Excited to be on the plane

We touched down in Rockhampton International Airport at around 2345 local time, and collected our bags straight from the plane. As in we literally unloaded our own bags from the plane. That's SAF for you, no baggage claim or anything. We quickly went through customs and boarded a bus from Rockhampton to Shoalwater Bay Training Area.

Tired and hungry. No one was celebrating anymore.

Pre Wallaby Post

Its about 4 more hours till I go to the airport for my Australia bound flight. I'll be gone for the next 3 weeks, down under firing big explosives at inanimate objects. My feeling now is apprehensive but excited. Life there will have its discomforts, but at the end of the day, it should be an amazing experience. Having never gone overseas with the SAF, I have no idea what to expect. But I couldn't have chosen a finer group of people to share this experience with me. 

I'll be documenting the whole thing in a journal. Hopefully, I won't just write two days and leave it there, like I did with all my other journals. I'll transcribe the whole thing on my blog during the block leave after I'm back. You can look forward to that.

All my affairs are set in order. The only thing missing is sending off Gerlynn, which I won't be able to do. Gerlynn, if you're reading this, you've been an amazing friend, and the heart and soul of our little family. 403 would definitely not have been the same without you, and thank you for all the happiness and delicious baked goods you have brought to us. You'll probably cry a bit, but remember that everyone is cheering for you and you'll always have friends eagerly awaiting your return. 

There. Everything has been taken care of. Time to go.

I depart a trainee.

I will return a Tank Commander.

Midnight musings

I wonder what it would be like if I had become an officer.

I had really wanted to be an officer.

I would have gone to OCS with the rest. My dad would be very proud. I would have been very proud.


But I didn't. I went to SCS instead. I went to Lima Coy, and became a Tank Commander.

I wonder if I would have been happier in OCS.

Probably not. I probably would struggle to keep up with everyone else when running in OCS. I would have lived in constant fear and embarrassment of my Pass result. I'd probably compete in shouting and trying to  lead with everyone else.
I saw the new Officer Cadets in the store today, 16 voices, all shouting at each other, nothing much done.

I'd probably be an Infantry Officer at the end of it, which is something to be very proud of I'm sure, but not something I see myself enjoying.

I'm in Tank Commander Wing now, no one bothers me about my running speed. I'm on my way to become Best Knowledge, in a course of 24. I've done an outstanding tour of duty as LPS. I go to lessons smiling with my crew. I go to tank lectures eagerly attentive, despite tankee's few hours of sleep. I devour pages of technical data and armor tactics at night because I want to. I love the Tank Commander life.

I have to be honest though, I never knew about the tankee life before I got posted.

It was a complete accident, an amazing chain of coincidences.

But it got me to what my father always wanted for me, what I should have wanted at the start.

I'm happy now,
because I know I'll have a meaningful and enjoyable journey in National Service.
And when you finally scream ORD LOH, isn't that how you want to feel?

Crew Phase

Food poisoning sucks. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that. The type that doesn't kill you most likely makes you wish you would die. Delirious with fever, sitting at home on a Monday morning, I've decided to update my blog. Because why not.

BMR! Basic Main Range! At once the most fun and most stressful time of my life. I was the Leader Platoon Sergeant, who's basically the guy who runs the shows, analogous to LSM in SCS or CWC in OCS. Anyway, I started off on the wrong foot with the Range Sergeant Major in charge of the preparation, and he looks like the type who murders people. For BMR prep, we had to prep three tanks for live firing. It was 2 hectic days of everyone running around everywhere. Being a tankee, you learn very fast how to manage manpower. With over 17 different things to do, multiplied by 3 tanks, and only 24 people, you have to learn very fast indeed, or run out of hair to tear out. Oddly enough, the prep went very smoothly and I managed to keep track of where everybody was and the progress accomplished.

The next day we woke up around 4.30 for BMR. We loaded up everything remaining and ourselves into the 5 tonner. As LPS, I had the privilege of sitting in front in the cab, hehe. About half an hour into the live firing area to an undisclosed location, we reached BMR. I don't think I've ever said this about any military installation in Singapore, but it was absolutely beautiful. We were situated on a big bare plateau overlooking a huge valley. The valley was at least 2 kilometers wide, offering an amazing view. That far up, there was an almost constant breeze that fought the baking sun. Sitting atop a tank and looking through my binos, it felt heavenly. After the conducting brief, it was my turn to relax for once, as the conducting officer took over most of my job scope. We sat in the air con briefing room awaiting our turn as the steady crash of the main gun and the staccato fire of the coax kept us from falling asleep. Unfortunately, terrible weather kept us from our night shooting, and we packed up early.

After that, was the hard part. We reached back camp around 1am. Everyone was tired, but mentally prepared for what was to come. I was running the show, I had to be at 100%. I also remembered that I had to be at Gerlynn's BBQ the next day, and that was my driving force. Just like the 2 days of prep, but in reverse, and in 4 hours this time. It is difficult to command your peers, even more so when everyone is tired and cranky. I am therefore thankful that most of my coursemates are clubbers who are used to staying up really late. Anyway, we all worked until 5.30am and slept till 8.

I learned a few things about leadership that day.
1. Cooperation is key
2. Don't make them do extra work, do it once do it right.
3. Don't jump in and do work yourself, step back and think about the big picture and timeline.
4. Always be answerable for manpower and progress.

Crew phase next. We've learned all aspects of the tank as parts, time to work it as a whole.

Quarter way to ORD!

Much has happened since the last post. Mostly because I'm too lazy to write posts, what with the little time I have during bookouts. I find myself more prolific during the week itself, and my written journal will probably be more revealing, should I chose to take the time to transcribe it onto this blog.

Anyway, got my driving license! My armoured driving license anyway. Got 85% on the driving test, making me the high score in my crew. But no cigar, cos someone else managed to get 100% haha.  Driving is pretty much about situational awareness, knowing the terrain and how much clearance you have, because its 65 tons, 10 meters long and 4 meters wide, is probably most important so that you don't hit anything. One close call during driving though. I was the acting Vehicle Commander on the tank and my buddy was the driver. We were about a kilometer from the training shed, when my instructor (also on the tank) asked if we ever went through mud puddles at high speeds before. I said no, obviously, since you're supposed to take mud puddles at 1st gear. Oh and when I say mud puddle, its not something you can imagine children splashing around in. Its a huge pool, about waist deep, space for 3 people to lie down in, side by side. Anyway, our instructor made us accelerate to max speed at the closest mud pool, which turned out to be right next to the training shed we were resting in. We closed in at about 60km/h and created a huge wall of mud as the tank sank down instantly. From waist up, I was exposed from the commander's hatch and turned brown instantly. My buddy driving, wasn't so lucky. His periscopes were covered with mud and couldn't see. I realised we were still driving on a straight course toward the training shed. I screamed desperately for him to stop, and he jammed the brake immediately. Right beside us, looking up at us in a pale face of shock, the medic sitting in the OUV, 3 meters to the left and we would have hit him with a 65 ton tank. Another 3 meters forward, vegetation and the bloody reservoir. I don't think our leopard can swim. Close call. Now we take mud pools at 1st gear haha.

Anyway, after driving was gunnery! I love gunnery. I've always been deeply in love with weapon systems, and the weapons systems on the Leopard are absolutely fascinating. The first few weeks was learning all the systems of the tank, which meant a lot of lectures. While many in my course are repulsed by lectures, I actually find them really interesting. They put it down as me being "NUS High" but I'm quite personally passionate. Two other sergeants share my passion, 3SG Ayron and 2SG Sebastian. They can describe every tank and tank development from world war 2 till today. Amazing people, much fun talking to them.

So this Saturday is going to be burnt. Sigh. Everytime SAF burns my weekend, I end up doing something awesome. So I love it and hate it, in a way. The last time they did it, I fired a live grenade launcher and matador rocket launcher. Awesome. This time, I'm firing my tank. Awesomer. Rhienmetall L44 120mm Smoothbore Gun. Commandos may wax lyrical about jumping out of airplanes, but this is my high. Too bad Gerlynn's BBQ is on Saturday too. Despite my above description, I would infinitely rather be at Gerlynn's BBQ. Looks like I'll be losing friends over the next few months. Then come 2014, it will probably be my turn. Ah well. So ist das Leben.

Oh and I'm trying to learn German. Because why not.

And I'm decided what I'm going to name my tank:
Χείρων

Ch ei rh o n. Chiron.
The legendary Centaur of Greek mythology. The swift and powerful body of a horse, the legendary accuracy and speed of the Centaur's bow and arrow, and the grey bearded head of a human, representing wisdom and knowledge. A fitting name for my tank.

2 more weeks to Crew Phase.
4 weeks to STBC, aka Hell Week.
6 weeks to DTBC
7 weeks to Combined Arms Term
9 weeks to Ex Wallaby
13 weeks to after Wallaby
15 weeks to passing out.

Armour's Elite

At least that's what it says on the badge.

Exciting week. Posted to Armour from SCS last week, was to report to Sungei Gedong camp. Met Shun Xiang and Charles there, my good friends from BMT and SCS, and we all lamented on becoming armour infantry. Went to reception to sign against our names. First clue, my name wasn't there. We jokingly brushed it aside and continued on. Getting to the form up point, we notice a lone figure standing off to the side with a piece of paper. He's asking those passing by if their name was on the paper. Most people look curiously and leave. I break off from my group to check it out, and surprisingly, my name was on it. I'm immediately pushed into a lecture theater with a  few other bored people. There's a nominal roll going around. The vocation title is Tank Ldr, second clue. When everyone arrives, the staff sergeant tells us we're going to be Tank Commanders. Strike three. At this point, it seemed like a surreal dream.

So they sent us over to do some psychomotor tests. There were 24 of us there. The tests were actually somewhat challenging, even for all my years of video games. The instructors' faces could be craved from stone, this was clearly serious business. 3 failed, 2 nearly so. Those who failed went back to Armour Infantry with a memory, in exchange for 3 others. With that, we were officially tankees, armour's elite. Joined the Tank Commander Wing.

Our training is gonna be 20 weeks, including an overseas operation and CAT term in SCS. The schedule is super packed. The lessons, actually quite difficult, almost NUS High standard. Our accommodations are pretty nice, working washing machine, a recreation room with TV, 8 people per bunk. The showers are kinda warm too, not hot, but not ice cold either.

Unfortunately, no one else whom I know made it. For the first time, no NUSHS, no BMT, no SCS. I'm completely on my own now. My buddy is a pretty nice guy though. He's a regular, done infantry pro term already lol, he's gonna be a 3SG next friday. He's going through TCC too. He was a pilot drop out, so he's pretty good at everything. Rivals me in technical skill and knowledge haha.

The Leopard tank is still a pretty new thing, not many Leopard tank crews out there, so a lot of the training is  secret, so I can't write too much about it here. Very easy to get confined in TCW. Even just dozing off is confinable, so is failing any tests. Ms Sie's house next week, so must try my very best not to get confined XD Not easy when next week, we're learning to drive the 55 ton behemoth. Bloody hell. Not even a basic theory test here, just get right in and drive the damn thing.

Feeling pretty guilty right now. Everyone's birthdays are coming and going, and I haven't even started present shopping yet. Oh well. Hopefully I'll get some time to go next week.

Block leave is really the best. It lets you completely forget about NS, eat ice cream and watch funny videos on youtube. We should have 2 days of block leave every 8 weeks. I think that's the optimum.

16 weeks. The year is actually passing pretty fast. It seems almost too soon that I'm being whisked away from SCS and into a new alien unit. I was starting to really enjoy my bunk mates this time. Couldn't say the same about Lima company though. In BMT, there are Kestrel, Ninja and Taurus survivors. In SCS, there are Delta and Lima survivors. I'm just glad we were out of there before it got too crazy. I guess when you pass through the week as an unconscious blur, like wake up training sleep rinse and repeat, and look forward to every bookout which passes by waayyyy too fast, the weeks pass by like a flash.

Foundation term. Hmmmmm.... I guess it was pretty good. The sergeants in Tekong were right though, nothing is better than BMT. Seriously, guys in BMT, TREASURE EVERY DAMNED MOMENT. Everywhere else in the SAF can't get better than BMT. I guess the most alien thing about SCS at first was the tempo. It was a ridiculous mess of a tempo. On some days, a slow mournful march of cleaning rifles and playing dota and sleeping at 9pm. On other days, a chaotic symphony of SECTION CHARGE and sleeping in hastily dug shellscrapes at 1am. Another thing about BMT, you always get your 7 hours of sleep. Everywhere else, you can get 6 hours of sleep in 3 days, or 12 hours of sleep in 1 day. Training is hard, but fun. You learn all sorts of cool stuff and actually feel like you have a fighting chance in a war now. Can't post much about this in here, but needless to say, Modern Warfare 3 is going to get a lot easier.

Armor Training Institute. My new home for the next 6 months. Hope its nice. Lima company was bloody far from the cookhouse. But the cookhouse had a canteen and gift shop on top, so we could have a canteen break anytime we wanted. The food at the cookhouse was crap though, so we got sambal fried rice and cheese fries every chance we got. People say Armor infantry is pretty tough, but I guess I'm quite ok with that. I usually don't volunteer for tough things, but when the tough thing comes my way, I usually surprise myself by getting though it quite well. I guess I think too much. That's what a trainer told me once. "All you JC kids are the same, you think about how many more rounds, or how much more difficult than my last time. Sometimes, all you need is to do is stop thinking and focus on the task at hand." Some part of me wishes I stayed in Infantry though, go back to Tekong to take care of the recruits.

Block leave! Not much I'm afraid, other than NEW VEGAS. All the way. Finally got the last 2 DLCs, Lonesome Road and Old World Blues. Really saved myself the best for last. Old World Blues > Lonesome Road > Honest Hearts > Dead Money.

Dead Money was, ehh. The Villa seriously creeped me out with the Ghost People and the environment itself, being on par with Amnesia and Bioshock. But inside the Sierra Madre Casino, things were bleh. The cloud actually discouraged exploration, contrary to a Fallout game. Only redeeming things were the gold bars in the safe and the HOLORIFLE+, the most game breaking weapon ever.

Honest Hearts was ok. The map was beautiful. The Grand Canyon was rendered beautifully and the park was wonderful to walk and explore. The story was alright, rather black and white unfortunately, but furthering Nevada's story a lot more. But a moral dilemma whether to stand your ground and fight, losing your innocence, or flee your home but keep your morals. I fought, obviously. More exp in there XD Crap weapons though. Oh oh. Really touching story of Randall Clark, I really felt for him when he finally died, even though I only knew him from holotapes.

Lonesome Road. The map, as suggested by the title, is quite linear, but quite refreshing. Ruined buildings, like really ruined, on its side and tilting, all fully explorable, very satisfying break from the flat emptiness of the Mojave. The weapons are huge and unwieldy, but bloody fun to use. Ulysses as an antagonist was, interesting. His speech pattern was a bit annoying at first but grew on me later. Really useful stuff in here, lots of money too. Made a 100,000 caps on weapons alone. This DLC promised an origin story for The Courier, but we didn't really see that at all. Ulysses just said "Oh you used to live here." and that's it. "Who are you, who does not know your history?" Et tu Courier? Oh and you get radio reception here, full playlist of Mojave Music. YES.

Old World Blues. Really the best. I remember exploring the Vaults of Fallout, all of them were ruthless experiments on living people. Stepping cautiously into the vault, discovering its secrets, and the nature of its experiments. Take that multiplied by 50 and that's Old World Blues. The characters are likeable, and memorable. The plot actually surprised me at the end, many games don't do that anymore. Weapons and armor are awesome, and really well designed. Has its own soundtrack! 5 new tracks of really good jazz.
Not much to do after all the DLC. I think I'll try a new playthough, this time, a Caesar's Legion stealth assassin, melee weapons and unarmed only. Playthough number 5 haha. Maybe some Rollercoaster Tycoon after that.

Booking in tomorrow at 0745. Hopefully I'll bookout on Friday. Hopefully.

Last few days of BMT

Oops. Looks like I haven't been updating for a while. But a fair point is neither has anyone else. A lot has happened since hand grenades, almost an eternity. The main thing was field camp. They say that 50% of your memories from BMT comes from field camp.

Field camp.

In a phrase, you have exhausted all the pain, hardship and drama of BMT. Before it, the commanders all were hyping it up, saying that discipline would be higher, comforts would be scarce and it would test you to the roots of your being. I thought they were blowing it up. I couldn't have been more wrong. 6 days and 5 nights felt like an eternity.

Day 1:

At the beginning, we had an 8 kilometer route march to the field camp site. Our field packs were much heavier than usual, as everything we would be using for the next 6 days was strapped to our backs. I remember the weather, direct sunlight with a thin mist hanging in the air, encouraged by the moist rainforest crowding the road. It was the perfect weather to sweat buckets. And sweat we did, all 8km to the field camp site. The first ugly reminder of field camp. Our campsite was a dusty red hillside, a reddish brown patch of dirt offering no relief. Soaked with sweat, we dejectedly sat down on our basha site, eyes staring out of focus. Field camp hadn't even started yet. The commanders wasted no time. Within the first half hour, we had set up our basha to their standards, established a perimeter, and changed to Standard Battle Order for the next mission. The rest of the day was a blur, learning field craft from commanders in silence, high kneeling on the hard dirt. Meals were combat rations, a sealed pack of solid wobbly yellow pasta and chicken bits. The texture was off, but it tasted good. Night in field camp was no joke. It was dark. Very very dark. Our flashlights were "tacticalized"meaning only a small hole of light was permitted. It was worse than nothing, and most of us depended on natural night vision to grope our way in the darkness. Exhaustion started to set in. Sticky, smelly and tired, we stumbled back to the basha. No showers, no lights, not even clean ground to change on. Laying on the thin groundsheet, all discomfort was quickly forgotten when sleep finally arrived.

Day 2:

Morning came, and light from the sun gave us hope once again. Body aching from the hard ground, we had a full day of lessons. Day 2 was one of the best days, just sitting in the forest, learning to actually fight an enemy, performing 3 man tactical movement between the trees. The day came and went, we felt like we could get used to field camp after all. Night came, and we slept well. Then, turn out happened. Ear ringing explosions right above and beside us, the noise of gunfire near the perimeters of our camp. It was 4am. The noise of the thunderflashes, the blinding light of flares, and the bull voice of commanders shouting at us. My sectionmates stumbled around in the pitch dark, some in various states of undress, one boot on, helmet but no shirt, etc. We struck our bashas and packed them, leaving nothing behind. In about 20 minutes from the first explosion, we were assembled in Full Battle Order as a company. Luckily, there were no injuries, except for some missing equipment in the darkness.

Day 3:

Shellscrape day. A shellscrape is a hole about 3 meters by 1 meter by half a meter. Dug down into the solid ground. To accomplish this, you're given a short stick, about arm's length, and a metal blade, like a hoe. Our platoon was unlucky, we were given virgin soil around the palm trees area. You couldn't swing your hoe without hitting a root. You needed 3 swings to cut the roots first, then another swing to move the soil. Repeat about 400 times. We took about 3 hours to dig it. All the while in helmet, vest and rifle, which swings around at random times to unceremoniously hit you in the face. I was one of the first to finish digging, maybe I got saddled with an easy spot, or picked up farming from Tung in hostel. I was rewarded with a smoke grenade for my effort. No joke. That day the letter came. The letter from your parents. I cried for the first time in years. Everyone did. No matter how strong you think you are, mentally or physically, you would have cried too. It reminded me why I was out here, in this grim, inhospitable place, sweating, aching and exhausted. For my family. For my friends. For the people that supported me. I had a purpose now, and I was going to fulfill it. The night has become universally known as "The Worst Night Of My Life" A shellscrape is not a shelter. In fact, it is a negative shelter. That night it rained harder than I have ever seen it rain on Tekong. We started out lying down in the shellscrape, but we eventually ended up sitting on the sides of it. The rain churned the soil into soft, sticky mud. The water completely filled the hole, soaking my boots and pants. It was cold. So cold. The rain soaked us completely, clothes, equipment and all. Sleep never came. All I could do was sit there, sinking slowly into the mud, soaked and shivering, freezing in the cold. As I watched each minute melt into the night on my watch, only the letter kept me going.

Day 4:

Everyone emerged from the night as zombies. No one had slept. Everything was soaked. Morale was the lowest ever. That day we practiced more field craft, and finally moved out of the campsite to the new SITEST campsite. We set up our bashas on the nice, firm grass of the campsite and slept very very happy soldiers that night.

Day 5:

SITEST day. More captains and lieutenants than I've seen in BMTC. One for every 11 recruits in fact. We would have to perform and lead in front of them. We were scrambled from our section. Everyone in our teams were randomly picked from other platoons from the company. So not only did we have to lead, we had to lead complete strangers. Luckily everyone was really cooperative and we did quite well as a section. That night was another sleepless night. It rained again, as hard as the first night. On the flat field, the campsite quickly flooded. My section was particularly unlucky, we were on a depression of the field, and our groundsheet was soon submerged. At least we weren't soaked.

Day 6:

SITEST day two. After the first day, our section surmounted the obstacles even better. Morale was at its highest, even after the rain, because we were going back today. Back to civilization.

Field camp taught me a few things. 1: Showers are awesome. 2: A soft bed is awesome 3: I have gained a newfound respect for rain and how badly it can screw you up. 4: You are a lot tougher than you think you are.

You should take away number 4.

One thousand Two thousand

Hand grenades this week.

Extremely hectic week, mostly because of the A level results on Friday. On one hand, an early bookout and three day weekend. One the other hand, squeezing the most dangerous BMT high key event into 3 and a half days. We had very little sleep and admin time this week, compared to the endless hours of slacking we had in the bunk during Range week. I barely had anytime to wash my clothes, to the chargin of my poor mother.

Hand grenades. They are very simple machines. If I were to put you in a fight with a bear, the first thing you'd probably do is to find something to throw at it. Then you'd die, because, come on , its a bear. Hand grenades are very simple in that respect. Pull the pin and throw. How does something this simple deserve such a hectic week? Explosives.

When I went through grenade week, I gained a newfound respect for explosives. They're completely different from what you see in movies. Forget the spectacular flash, the pluming fireball of red and black belching out of the ground. An actual explosion is acutely uninteresting. The hush first settles over the range. The nervous recruit fumbles with the pin before separating it. The Officer raises his hand before bringing it down with a firm pat on the recruit's shoulder. The recruit chucks the grenade, with technique and target all but ignored. Everyone ducks. One thousand Two thousand. The grenade lands with a plop on the sand. Hard to spot from a distance of 200m. Suddenly, a puff of sand and smoke appears. It just appears. One moment its not, and another moment, its there. No fire, no other visual indicator. A crashing sound assaults your ears, imagine a metal dumpster falling from the third floor. The range recovers, the next bay is ready. This happened 250 times.

In retrospect, the BMT grenade course does not actually teach you how to kill others with a grenade. Of course there is a target for you to aim at, and a set distance that you're supposed to throw. But for a recruit standing at the bay, it all goes out of mind. The only thought in his head is getting the deadly high explosive as far away as possible and surviving this ordeal. The BMT Grenade Course teaches you more of how to not kill yourself with a grenade than to kill others. Almost like rifle range, you're being trained to inflict death. All the drills practiced with a rifle deal with how to hit a target, and how to rectify it if you're not hitting the target. A different mindset is present too. There is no lingering thought on your own safety when aiming down the scope. All presence of mind is focused on hitting the target. However, for grenades, all the drills are to ensure that you don't kill yourself with the grenade. The target and throwing distance is looked at as an ideal than anything else. Something to aim for, but don't bother trying to hit it. As you run down to the grenade range, all faces are grim. The sergeant's voice is nervous, and their actions are all to the letter. With the earplugs in your ears, only the sound of your breathing is audible in your head. Receiving the grenade, I couldn't imagine it exploding at all. It seemed an inert lump of metal. Strapping the grenade to my chest, I sat down at the waiting area. In a fit of gallows humor, I observed that death itself was strapped to my heart. All it took was a faulty pin, a fuse slightly out of alignment. For some reason, I thought of seeing everyone on bookout day, and that made me smile some. The loudspeaker rotates shifts. I doubled the 200 meters to the grenade bay. As I performed all the drills before throwing it, my mind was somewhere else, I watched myself in third person, reporting to the officer, preparing the grenade. The officer and I exchanged some small talk while waiting for my turn to throw, interrupted by him jerking me down behind cover as others threw first. I ran my hand down the outside surface of the bay. Solid concrete, pockmarked by thousands of tiny holes. I suddenly understood the nervous smile of the bay safety officer. He had to do this 250 times. Damn. My turn to throw. Pulling the pin out, all intent of hitting the target left me. My own breathing echoed in my earpluged ears. It was just me and the grenade. Instinct took over. I threw it as hard as I could and dropped to the floor. One thousand Two thousand. A strange force pushed air out of my lungs. Sound came after that. A crashing bang. The strange sound of tiny metal hitting concrete, and the whizzing of metal through the air. And it was over. I hastily thanked the officer and stumbled out of the bay.

That was grenade week.

Nothing new to report

Week 3: Shooting!

This week was fairly uneventful as it was our range week. The interesting thing is that you're not even taught how to shoot. Aim, hold breath and squeeze trigger. I guess its a testament to the SAR21 that most people passed on the first try. That or our gun savvy, First Person Shooter video game culture ingrained into most youths.

I'm typing this 10 minutes before book in, so pardon me if it seems rushed. The range was in the middle of tekong, far away from the lights of BMTC proper. The stars out there were magnificent. The forest blocked most of the light from the city, so there were an unimaginable amount of stars. It was almost like being in rural Thailand. The shooting was a two parter, the day shoot and night shoot. The day shoot went by quite fast, and you actually spend most of the time sitting around, waiting for the next detail to finish shooting. Thanks to my previous experience with the SAR21, I managed a perfect score in the day shoot and was one of the small number in the running for Company Best Shot. While waiting for the night shoot, we literally sat around for 3 hours, talking swapping stories and the like. Then the ninja van came. The ninja van is known as the ninja van to recruits and commanders alike, as it randomly shows up silently, bearing all kinds of forbidden unhealthy drinks and snacks to anyone with the coin to afford it. Luckily, our friendly sergeant advised us the day before and we spent an extremely happy hour gorging ourselves, totally ignoring our out-ration dinner :D

The night shoot was pretty good, and quite scary. It was dark. Not even a dark you can imagine in Singapore. Darkkkk dark. Darker than a wolf's mouth in winter. The range only had light sticks and dim red lights to guide us, and floating blue light sticks marked the commanders walking around. By the time the night was over, I missed two shots, taking me out of the running for Company Best Shot, but guaranteeing me a Marksman Award very handily. It was about 0000 Hours before the 5 tonners took us back to company line, and the admin and Routine Orders meant we slept around 0300 Hours. We woke up again at 0530 Hours on Saturday to get ready to book out. That night, you could tell who would die in the sleeplessness of field camp.

Purple light, In the valley

That is where, I want to be

Infantry, true companions

With my rifle and my buddy and me.

Wow, 17 days. It has literally felt like forever.

I remember day one, in the bunk, Ulysses Company, Platoon 4 Section 3. 16 strangers brought together from all corners of Singapore. It was a humid day, and the rotating fans overhead did little to move the sluggish air around us. No one particularly felt like talking. We sat in silence around two rectangular wooden tables put together . The importance of teamwork and buddies was hammered into us from ferry and possibly before up till now. As we all looked around the table, taking in the wary faces and blank looks, brotherhood and unity looked very far away. Several stabs of standard conversation were offered: name, school, cca, etc... But I was left to wonder how we would become an inseparable family in the weeks to come.

17 days later. Book out day. Friday. We all had pet names for each other, knew each other's temperaments, strengths and weaknesses, we had added each other on facebook and swapped phone numbers. We idly swapped stories about how siong the PT was, and how hard SOC is, and how strict the sergeants are as we crammed our laundry into our field packs, excitedly talking about the first thing we'd do when we got out. Some even said they would miss each other's company. Laughing, I pointed out that we would unfortunately be reunited very soon. We were a family, brothers in arms.

17 days. An eternity.

BMT has many interesting things. The days feel like they go by quite fast. Wake up at 5am, First Parade, Physical training, and before you know it, lunch. Soldiering lessons, lectures, learning to handle your rifle, and before you know it, dinner. Routine Orders then admin time. Do laundry, call home, and sleep. Rinse and repeat. I guess it feels fast because your day is broken up into timings given by your sergeant. Time now is 1230. 1-2-3-0 We chorus. I want you to eat lunch, and fall in by 1250. 1-2-5-0 We chorus again. Our lives are literally being dictated to us, and we hang on the commanders' every word. It becomes a habit to constantly check your watch, lest you have to drop 20 when you get there.

Some people can't take it. The regimentation, the sergeants barking orders at you. But I'm finding myself adjusting quite well. Could be the Uniform Group training before this, or the fact that I'm already quite familiar with the Army and how it works on the inside. When you understand why they order you around and give the punishment they do, it seems quite reasonable. Anyway, I'm actually finding it quite enjoyable. Bed's soft, food's good, toilets are clean and we get paid.

TRANSITION

Currently 10 hours before the next chapter of life begins. Never before has entering a new phase of life been so scary. You may even argue that this is the first phase change. Going from primary school to NUS High may have been daunting, but it was still school. You still had the obligatory June/December holidays to look forward to. But now, its a whole new game.

Not much to say I guess. Strangely. You'd think I would be teeming with philosophical nonsense about life and fate on such a subject, but my mind is pretty calm. I guess whatever happens from here will just happen. Human beings are great adapters, and I'm pretty mentally prepared.

Purpose.

Long time since I've had any. And I'm glad to have it back.

Anyway, I'll see all of you again when my sergeant decides its safe to return. I do hope I miss Valentine's Day, otherwise I'd have to make excuses on why I didn't do anything hilariously, retardedly misguided this year. :D

Happy February to you all.

Milestone

We celebrated Ronald's Birthday yesterday. Nineteen. That's much too big a number. For some reason, I expected being 18 to last for much longer. You should be 18 for 3 years. Then you're 21. What a more elegant system.

I hope to keep this blog running for the next few years, amid all the life changes I'll be experiencing. Someone once told me that the years from 18 to 21 is the focal point of your life, and any mistakes in the future can all be traced back to this period.

I'm not going to make a long Hong Kong post, if any of you are looking for one. Such an experience can't be expressed in one post. The freedom of parents on an overseas trip is a completely different experience, but the gravity of it struck me standing at Changi Airport. Being the first to arrive, as usual, I stood with my luggage on the center of the concourse, looking up at the board of flights. As the faceless mass of humanity streamed past me like a water flowing around a rock, I honestly had never felt so alone. Luckily, Jing Min arrived 15 minutes later, restoring my mood. But the damage was done. If I do go to US for my studies, a 2 way ticket costs a bomb. I'd not see many of my family and friends for 2 years, let alone 15 minutes. The rest of the Hong Kong trip was amazing, and waking up with the same few friends 7 days in a row tends to bond or break a group, and I'm glad to say it was the former. Many good stories and jokes were had, all immortalized in Debra's and Jing Min's photos on Facebook. Including some rather controversial ones I've heard.

National Service is coming up soon. More excited than dreading it. Really beats bumming around the house everyday, if I'm not driving or exercising. Having my Dad in the military, I've never actually questioned the importance or relevance of NS. Honestly the only reason I have against it is that it defers our tertiary education. Ah NS. The only things I'm worried about right now is running, my mortal enemy, and fitting in with the rest of the unit. I really do want to become an officer. If anything else, to make my father proud. He says he'll wear his Number one to the commissioning ceremony if I actually do make it, provided he can still fit in it haha. So literally the only things stopping me is my crappy 2.4 timing (a blistering 12 minutes, thank you very much) and my ability to connect with my sectionmates. I hope they're all at least nice people. Any Aaron Tans would just scupper my plans entirely. Although, the thought of just slacking off and being the section joker is quite seductive. Singing "Always look on the bright side" in Cockney accent during a route march, or "Singing in the rain" on a rainy field camp would be awesome.

Well, Chinese New Year is coming up, and I'll have a lot of visiting to do, as well as UPenn interview on the 28th. Hopefully I'll enjoy the last few months of being 18 :D And I'll leave you with this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WlBiLNN1NhQ