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.