A Year After....

And so 1 year has passed...

Time always seem so short when you have the benefit of looking back in hindsight. What a huge contrast 1 year makes...

Now: A university student who has no one else except himself and his little princess to worry about.
Then: A fresh YSL who was due to take on the enormous duties his rank delivered upon his shoulders.

I feel much at ease now compared to 1 year ago. Much at ease as I am doing something of my own will. My destiny lies in my hands. Not of some higher-ranking fella who treats me as a mere figure in a sea of data.

But you've to admit that those were exciting times. What people call the times of their lives. As cliched as it sounds, this phrase, I think is exceptionally true - It is not how many breaths we take but the number of breath-taking moments that we have in our lives that matters. Commissioning day was 1 such moment. It was the Grand Finale to 10 months of sweat, blood, tears, frustrations, and endless sacrifices... This was the moment to savour.

Beyond that, it was also a moment to mourn. No longer can Bravo Platoon 3 spend the night together... Talking cock; Conducting 'Exercises'; Preparing OPS order for a mission; Doing area cleaning; Booking out... The joys of living with your buddies were taken away when we passed out.

A new life beckoned for us after so many months of vigorous training. A new life that I was not very keen on.

WingComd: Oct John Lee, 2 SIR, Platoon Commander/ 2IC.
Me: (in my heart) What the F...!

This was the scene on the day when our Wing Comd announced our posting. I was crushed. My worst nightmares came back to haunt me. I was not a big fan of chiong suaing. So giving me a posting that required me to lead people to chiong for another year was like a death sentence.
I kept hoping, against hope, that somewhere, there would be a cock-up and my posting was wrong.

No such miracles materialised and I begrudgingly carried my duffel bag into Amoy Quee Camp a few days after the highs of commissioning. If getting my bars on the parade square was a new high, walking into the old and run-down confines of my new home was definitely a new low. It brought me back to the shit hole with one mega thud.

Now this was the real thing. This is what you have been training for. To lead men out there. To be a platoon commander. Or was it?

I thought I was going to be a Admin Officer? Where is my number 3 uniform? What would happen to the plans I had of doing what I wanted to do after knocking off at 5? What? Somemore outfield? Shit. Reality bites.

I tried to psyche myself up. Watched Band of Brothers and other War Movies. A surge of inspiration would come after each episode but somehow that surge would be over-ride by another surge of depression as you begin to prepare for a 3days2nights mission.

I was thrown into the deep end of the shit hole earlier than my fellow officers from the same BEG cohort. A Platoon Commander from 1 of the rifle companies got himself injured and had to step now. I (for reasons only GOD knows) was chosen to take over his position. At the same time, I got chosen to be the flag bearer for my unit for National Day Parade (Again for reasons only GOD knows). This meant that all my saturdays were burnt. (Less time with my little princess again) And that I couldn't focus on assuming command of my men.

It was a struggle at the start. I felt lost. Really lost. When in the past, I had my platoon mates in Bravo3 to turn to, now I had no-one. There were many balls that I had to juggle. Learning the ropes of how to be a platoon commander (OCS didn't teach us everything unfortunately); Taking over the problems inherent in my platoon from my upper study; Trying to win over the respect and trust of my men and section commanders; Remembering the drills to execute on the Padang; Figure out how to conduct a simple SOC training; Find out what are the dos and don'ts in a rifle company; Sort out what the hell my OC wants from me; How to tread along the lines so as not to end up on the wrong end of politics in the company; And be a good boyfriend to my little princess...

It was not an ideal situation. It seldom is in life, if you think about it. Though there was the urge to complain and moan about stuff, I managed to keep it to myself most of the times. I have the mentality that everybody has their own problems and worries to occupy themselves so what makes you so special that people want to listen to you? Just grind your teeth, roll up your sleeves and get your hands dirty. And get the job done. No hussle. No bustle. No hullabaloo. And life goes on...

And so it was... It was not a pretty sight though. Ups and downs there were. As Ronald Keating sings: Life is a rollercoaster and you've got to ride it... Making wrong decisions as a PC; Getting shouted at by OC; Signing extras for mistakes made as a conducting officer; Being let down by some of my men; Worrying about the problems my sect comds had; Struggling through the outfield exercises; And trying to be there when my little princess needed me...

Well, tough as it was, I'm sure some other poor fella would be in a more dire situation than me. So what is there to complain about? If only the brain was that naive.

I was mostly in constant agony. Agonising over having to burn my weekends to conduct live firing; Agonising over waking up in the wee hours in the morning to set off for an exercise; Agonising through the overnight treak before the commence of an assault; Agonising over what actions to take over a man who stepped out of line; Agonising over having to make a decision that I have to, not that I want to; Agonising over disappointing my little princess once again; Agonising over what I have not done and what I should not do as a PC; Agonising over why I chose to go to OCS and be an officer rather than stay as a medic and enjoy a slack life; Agonising over having to miss out on the outings that Bravo3 organised or the football matches that I had to miss...

As week after week of struggling passed, I began to find my footing. Things started to get into a routine. And I got more and more used to my new life. I began to enjoy the company of the people in my unit. Life began to improve. Slowly, my men started to put their trust in me. My little princess still loves me. And things did not seem that bad afterall.

But I still had to book in; Still had to do DO duties; Still had to put on camo; Still had to walk through the night in flies-infested areas... Well, what-to-do? Life is not perfect.

Anyhow, as more weeks passed, I realised that I only had a few more weeks to go before I had to leave for my studies. This fact was made obvious to me with the arrival of my (drumrolls please) much-anticipated understudy! It is during the last few moments that you begin to cherish and appreciate your surroundings more. When you know that you are going to leave the people you have been around with for some time, you begin to look at their positive side more and enjoy their company more. This is the part where you are supposed to get sentimental. It certainly was for me.

So with a strange mixture of sentiments, I set off for my last major exercise with my men. It was going to be a combo of 3 back-to-back missions. Certainly not a walk in the park. I made a few mistakes here and there. And was fucked by my OC and the 3rd Brigade Commander who had the best of luck to be present when my platoon was carrying out the assault for the company in the 1st mission. Cursing my luck, I consoled myself that this was going to be it. The last time. The subsequent missions were much better and our morale improved. As 'EXERCISE CUT' was roared out by my OC, my heart rose in jubilance. No, that would be an understatement. No words can sufficiently relay the joy I felt.

More was to come. There was to be a handing over parade where all the outgoing commanders would hand over to the new commanders. At the end of the parade, the outgoing commanders, including me, stood in front of the whole battalion and received a salute as a tribute to our services. That feeling you get from seeing your men salute you with all their sincerity and respect is the 1 of the most fulfilling. At that point, you think that all the sacrifices you had made was worth the effort. As I went around shaking my men's and sect comdrs' hands, emotions were threatening to get the better of me. These people have been my life for the past 7-8 months. Everything I did had something to do with them; I even had them in my dreams... (no joke!)

And when you see that these people recognise your efforts and respect you for it, the satisfaction and fulfillment you get more than erase all the negative thoughts you once had. Keep in mind that these people were from some of the roughest parts of our society. To be able to get them to listen to you and respect you is not a mean feat. This is what pushed me to become an officer. To be able to be a good leader and make a positive impact on the men under you.

I really hoped that I had made a positive impact on the lives of my men. As much as possible, I hope that their lives will improve after they leave the army and that they will have a better future ahead.

And remember that they once had a platoon commander they called sir john. I know I will always remember their faces. Each and everyone of them.

Happy 1st anniversary to all from BRAVO 3 56/04 OCC!

To lead , To excel, To overcome.