Outprocessing
POSTED AT 10:34 PM

It's always so difficult to pack for a trip, because there're so many of my belongings that seem essential, if not necessary at least, to accompany me along the way. My bag's still only half packed, and the floor of my room is littered with all sorts of contraptions and accessories that I've half a mind to stuff into my hand carry.

I hate to pack, because it's always the same situation. At the end there are some things that you can't take along, and you have to leave them behind. You have to choose what you need most, what matters most to you, and forego the rest. I hate to choose. Isn't everything important?

I've already loaded up and sent my luggage to the airport, but the rest of the baggage I'm leaving behind me.

It's always the same. Isn't it?

19 already and still refusing to accept it. 19 already and having made no progress from 18, 17, or even 16 for that matter.

I know I've said I'm dreading ROC, because it's going to be 3 weeks away from home and away from everything I hold dear to me. But nothing's ever absolute right? I'm starting to think ROC is a welcome change from the life here, because it's 3 weeks away from everything here that is dragging me down and pulling me apart in all directions, away from all the pressure and stress and misplaced concern.

Yet I don't know if that's what I really feel, or whether I'm just thinking like that to console myself. It's a plausible consideration, but definitely not a pretty one. For me to think that way, some major drama must be going on back home. Is it?

Perhaps... no, wait I don't even know.

I think I want my old life back. To where has it gone?

Dredging through the sewers of the past.

I can't believe I gave it up. I let people down. I let myself down. Was that what I really wanted? With hindsight I don't even know.

........................................~~~-------~~~.....................................

Looking back on how far I've come... it really seems only yesterday that I was awaiting (and dreading) the flight to Brunei. After all, it was only 9 posts ago. It's so surreal that I'm standing here, on the brink of ROC, with a downhill ride all the way to the parade waiting for me when I come back. Just 5 months ago I still trained on Tekong, sang the SISPEC song, drew my private pay. Officer Cadetship seemed little more than a distant dream.

But I've made it here. Even if I was only to stay 8 weeks at SAFTI before moving on to the unsheltered world of Pro Term. And somehow, through the day in day out routine of everyday life I've arrived at this stage. We've been counting down the days on our board to three things - to ROC, to going back to SAFTI, and to the parade.

So it's really more of an opportunity. A chance to test myself. A chance to train myself. A chance to move out of the comfort zone and discover my true abilities. And what better time and place to do it, to prove myself, then a totally unfamiliar location with harsh terrain, stressful conditions and stringent expectations, thousands of miles away from this place that I call home?

I sometimes wonder if it was right for me to have left the Infantry. Back there everything seemed so simple - know your weapons, exert your authority, lead by example, be garang. I'm not sure if I made the right choice to leave all of that behind. And then I'm reminded - it was no choice of mine.

I will do it somehow. At the very least, I'll go down trying. See you on the other side.

ps. To the person who last commented: Thanks a lot, that really meant a lot to me. I won't let myself down.

3 weeks
POSTED AT 05:00 PM

See you soon. Till then.

The Starry Sky, Mars and beyond
POSTED AT 09:31 PM

We were told not to worry, because time will pass, and everything will come to its end eventually. Plastered on the wall back in bunk is the saying "Tough training doesn't last, tough men do".

So, three weeks on, and we're back again. And I'm absolutely shattered.

I went to ROC mentally prepared to take all sorts of tough physical training and mental pressure the instructors could throw at me. Instead, it turned out to be a huge emotional rollercoaster.

'I was tired, father. I have been tired a long time,'

'Tired? Of what?'

'I don't know of what - of everything, I think.'

On a more personal note, the last three weeks have really been quite tough for me on another level. It's not about the exercises or the training, but rather very personal incidents that occured throughout the course of the three weeks on so many fronts. It was really quite a lot to deal with, having to cope with problems in ROC and back here at home 2000 km away all at the same time, and yet having to perform during training as well.

Now that I'm back, I don't feel any relief. I feel quite destroyed. I don't know what to think. I don't know what to do. And I don't know how to recount it. Perhaps with time the words will come. Not yet. I think the past is catching up with me. And I can't find anywhere to express it. Perhaps the right person will come along and help me.

-----

I think I put up a credible performance when my turn came to demonstrate my competance and responsibility. My time in the cauldron began when I was first appointed as the S3 (ops officer) observer, then promoted unexpectedly to the actual appointment. I can't say it was totally unexpected, but I think no amount of pre-empting could have removed that sinking feeling in my gut when the change was announced.

Perhaps I was caught off-balance, perhaps I just don't soak up pressure too well but my S3 tour of duty, unfortunately, didn't start off too well. I couldn't meet their deadlines for presentation of orders; I almost got lost while leading the entire convoy into battle; I lost my nerve when the entire Bn HQ came under sudden attack and I couldn't get any of the companies to move up to support us because comms was down.

I don't think the instructors thought too highly of me. I mustn't have been too impressive, because just before we started, my course commander looked me in the eye and said right to my face,

It's very simple. I want to start the assault on the objective at 6. Do that, and you pass. Miss it and you fail.

It was already past 2. We were scheduled to start at 1, but my lack of time awareness and other unforeseen factors had led to the delay of more than an hour. Things weren't too cheerful at this point but there was no time to sit there and cry about it. It was too late to worry about passing or failing.

When you're in the shit, just get out and do it. And that's exactly what I did. I pushed everyone onwards as fast as possible - no time to think, no time to consider, no time to discuss.

By 5 we had captured all three objectives.

I screwed up pretty much everything, but the only thing I managed to do right was that I met the time deadline for the assault. I don't know how I did it, I just went ahead and did it.

As we were walking back to our rest point someone mentioned to me that the OC had remarked it was the first time he got back to the rest point before daybreak, for we were the first batch to have finished the assault before dawn.

------

The final exercise, in brief terms, involved a very long walk carrying a very, very heavy load. It was designed, so I was told, not so much as a technical or tactical test of competance or skill, but rather a very fundamental test of our very values, of which I think the most important is the last of the three - to overcome.

A senior mentioned that they learnt what it felt like to walk until they couldn't walk anymore. In my own words, we walked and walked until we couldn't walk anymore. Then we walked some more.

Definitely I entertained - if only in a very ludicrous fashion - thoughts of giving up. It was never an option to start with, but believe me, 2 days 2 nights of walking gives you a lot of time to think about many things.

It was supposed to be a fitting end to all of the training that we've endured so far. A summary exercise to end all exercises. In the words of an officer, 'We [signals cadets] are the only [crazy people] besides the commandos to go on such a long hike'

Surprisingly disappointing. I wouldn't discount the physical and mental element - definitely the challenge is there. There's no denying it, no escaping it. On completing it, however, I felt as if something was missing. There was no triumphant outburst of emotion, no supreme sense of achievement, no welling of pride in the chest.

It didn't help that my group members weren't willing to push themselves all the way. It was a timed effort, but towards the end as we all began to tire they were more than happy to sit and rest beyond the limit of necessity into that of comfort. I don't blame them, but I was really raring to go, to push through the boundaries of my perceived limitations. It felt terrible watching the other groups all push ahead, leaving us behind not struggling with our loads but resting comfortably along the way.

At the end of frame function, when they presented the award to the team with the best performance and recognised other under-performing cadets for their supreme effort nonetheless, I felt really left out. I wanted to be up there with my mates, not necessarily as the best team, but as someone proud of his effort, of his team's effort.

I just sat back and watched. It wasn't my night.

------

Now that this is done and out of the way, it's really a downhill ride all the way. I just hope I make it there in one piece. See you all on the other side.

At the end of it all I think the most important thing is to be ready to take on anything, even at the limit of physical and mental exhaustion. When we reached the end point at the very end of the summary exercise, we weren't told that that would be the end. The instructors tried to play mind games with us, rightly so to test our mental endurance and mettle. Physically exhausted, spent, mentally convinced that we had done all that was asked of us, we were told that another leg still lay in front of us. We were to climb halfway up the mountain ridge that loomed high behind us, perform a simple task and await further instructions.

What else could we do but pick ourselves up and declare ourselves ready to go on? I grabbed my things, struggled to get the load up on my back, and never looked back. I was ready. Isn't that the way it's always been? Take it all in your stride and never fail to be ready for more.

3 weeks - somehow a little older, a little sadder. Something to grow up upon.

Till another weekend. ~

The Neverending Ending
POSTED AT 01:45 AM

Just when you think it's over, it isn't. So who knows when it really ends?

I don't know what's right or wrong.

The memories remain so fresh, so tender, so raw. It's like the feeling of waking up suddenly with the impression of the interrupted dream which quickly fades away. The more you try to recall it, the more the memory eludes you. It's so tantalisingly close, as if it's just beyond your fingertips, but nevertheless still out of reach.

The harder you try the deeper you fall.
Feeling: confused