OCS Stress

People have asked me if OCS is tough, stressful.... I can only tell them of my own experience. You see, each generation go through different aspects of the SAF (it's always evolving in both approach and practice; recruits also differ much in background and generational gap over the years) and mine was rather unusual in retrospect. I had a platoon commander and platoon sergeant who ran things rather differently. 

But in general I would say OCS training is tough. Tough on limbs, tough on sleep, tough on schedule. There were just too many things to learn and later, to practice over. There's also the physical aspect: officers are expected to be fitter than their men, whom they eventually are expected to command. I am, of course, referring to the infantry officer and his foot soldiers.

With so much happening within that nine months of OCS training, things sure got pretty interesting and challenging. Fortunately for us, our PC and PS did not add more stress to our packed coursework with their unreasonable demands, you know, demands such as late-night turnouts and other such "buggerations" (popular army term for 'inconveniences'). For many in OCS then, that was a way of life especially so during the early part of Senior Term. Being turned out at 3am in the morning in full battle order (FBO) and be taken out for a run up Penkang Hill or to the Water Pump Station (places that were just outside the Pasir Laba SAFTI camp) was rather frequent (I think one platoon in Charlie Company - ran by a PC Martin after my batch - got it the worse).

My platoon mates and I could count ourselves lucky to be spared that mostly. The end result was that we did not get laid-up unnecessarily and hence got more sleep. Our PC also kept his word to let us manage ourselves as long as we did not make him lose face. It was that simple. Rather :cina" you might say, but wholly effective! ("Cina" = old fashioned Chinese)

As a result we remained very self-motivated and never made him "malu". And the beauty of it all was that we did eventually outperform the other two so-called superior White Horse platoons in our cadet company - sweeping up all the OCS graduation prizes on offer, even the coveted Sword of Honour. (Note: "White Horse" to mean the princeling sons of ministers and other VVIPs in the government).

I think no cadet during our time wanted special VIP treatment (most were self-conscious about it anyways). But try telling that to his platoon commander. Do these officers want their careers to be "hentak-kakied" (Malay, for marking spot) if something happened to their special charges? I think not. Not even in fair-thinking Singapore. 

In my own cadet company, there was a platoon of government scholars. And over at same-batch Foxtrot Company (down the road) was Philip, the son of thorn-in-the-PAP-backside opposition politician JB Jeyaratnam. A buddy told me that Phil was a nice guy and stayed under the radar most of the time the nine months he was there. It helped that he looked like a harmless teddy bear in real life.

During my time, officer cadet training was still under the Tactics Team instructor system. We graduated and became OCS' first Mentors. The Mentor instructor system certainly changed the dynamics of training in OCS. But was it for the better?

Maybe.

My fellow would-be instructors and I discussed this at length during our OCS instructor preparatory course (IPC), which started in January right after our POP in December. The Mentor system was, after all, a major change to SAF pedagogy and life in OCS.

Unfortunately, I had to leave the IPC midway to join a conversion course at Gillman Camp in order to be able to teach Demolition later in OCS. For three months after, a buddy and I were actually taught a compressed Combat Engineering course. At the end of it all, we did not get to wear the blue beret of the CE corp but retained our own green infantry ones. I was relieved; I still wanted to be an infantry officer despite learning all those additional vocational skills (which I felt was a bonus, especially the in-depth training in handling booby traps, operating those Caterpillar earthmovers and various other plants such as backhoes and bulldozers, and also picking up skills in bridge-building (a fave was the old wooden ones!)

Maybe because our generation was better read or brought up differently, I just knew the new Mentors would do a better job than those TT instructors who were more like barkers than teachers - out to give back 20% more lousy treatment they themselves had gotten during their own cadet time.

But fitness aside, the pressure one felt as a cadet in OCS came primarily from three main sources: 1) Appointment Time; 2) Major Exercises; 3) Topography, or Topo.

1) Appointment Time
- A chance for a cadet to shine

We cadets all took turns with on some kind of Admin or Field appointment. Admin appointments had to do with those that ran barrack life. The ranks given were similar to those from the field, namely OC, CSM, PC, PS, SC and Armskoteman. 

Field appointments on the other hand were to test combat leadership or deployment skills under battleground conditions. Field appointments were mostly at PC, PS and SC levels. Come company-level exercise time, our cadet company career PCs (like our own Platoon 10 PC Capt Ang) would rotate to take on the OC role. The rest of us cadet PC appointment holders would then role-play as his exercise platoon commanders as per "estab" (term for army hierarchy). 

Needless to say everybody wanted to do well with either appointment types.... more so during field exercises. After all, we were in OCS to be trained as field unit platoon commanders rather than the admin ones. But graduating cadets who were deemed good in organisation were often kept back as instructors and then appointed as barrack TCOs or training coordinating officers. My own platoon mate Danny Lee was one such case. 

TCOs were assigned to a cadet company to help coordinate training matters as well as act as the company's OC PA. He's often the "go to" guy to get things done: stores, equipment, training locations, etc. In many ways, he was more "2-IC" than the actual 2-IC of a cadet company which, officially, was held by one of the company's three career PCs.

2) Major Exercises 
- These test field leadership and deployment skills

My own field-test was rather straightforward. I led my cadet platoon on a patrol that got waylaid along the way. An enemy section shot at us from a hilltop. I had to react and neutralise that threat. So, as per normal, I sent a section of men to do a flanking movement to set up a fire support base. The rest then carefully edged up frontal to engage the enemy. As the enemy force was small, the firefight would soon be over. Too quick, I was thinking at the time. So did my PC, Capt Ang. And he also wondered why I was taking it all so easy. He gave me that "Can-you-be-more-serious?" look. 

My problem had always been that these tests were mostly simulations. And given that a training area was often so overused, it became hard indeed to pretend to be truly alarmed and innovative when executing a maneuver. You see a familiar spot and you almost always expect something to happen. (Another way to judge was how much time had passed into the exercise) Anyway, these test scenarios were not very sophisticated to begin with. Flank, provide suppression fire, frontal forces advance, that's it. It was child's play mostly.

Also, the grounds for such tests would always be in a rubber plantation with a well-worn dirt track or something of that sort. That was how it always seemed to me after the umpteenth times we had to crisscross the same bloody patch of pretend real estate.

Local army training without being in a rubber plantation was like swim-training without a pool. It had always been that way, and probably still is.

Because of my rather casual approach to the first field exercise, I was given a second tougher one. It couldn't get any worse than leading a night assault crossing both land and sea. It ended with a FIBUA attack inland that had nothing to do with pretty damsels in distress. That's how we psyched ourselves after making the initial landing in knee-deep mud (who planned the damn thing for low-tide?!). Yeah, not much fun leading an attack with your feet leaden with some much muck it was like having midgets clinging on to them. Midgets that smelt of sea mud and kampung latrines even.

Actually the hard part was the sea topo under partial moonlight. But after I landed the platoon at the right spot, I relaxed and enjoyed the next bit: the attack. Which brings me to the next point.

3) Topo
- Learning to use map and compass

Topo, short for topography, was one exercise we cadets often dreaded. A chief requirement of an officer has always been the ability to lead his men accurately from Point A to Point B. If you cannot even do that, then it is better to lead a typewriter (or photocopier) in an office.

Often, a topo would start from an assembly area to the forward rendezvous or RV point. Then onwards to the forward form-up area or FUP. 

In our day, there was no GPS equipment as standard SOP. We were "old school" and managed with just a map and compass. These days, with GPS so prevalent, I wonder if cadets would suffer from MOD or map orientation disorder. I think the compass is the one thing that will outlive us all - even iPhone version 1001!

You know, I would really hate it if I became too dependent on GPS. And it is only good if there's no cloud cover. These days we get over that problem by triangulating with telco towers. I don't think army issued GPS direction-finders have a SIM card in them.

One of our very first OCS topo exercise involved discovering our own "natural drift tendency" or NDT. Did you know that we don't all walk in a straight line when our eyes are closed? We tend to drift left or right, or in circles (as demonstrated hilariously in one episode of Myth Busters on Youtube).

By knowing your NDT you can compensate when travelling through real terrain from point A to point B. (Notice how we sometimes take shortcuts with a left or right preference? If we go clockwise, we would always choose that direction even on the return path. That's directional bias for you, and that is why most people get lost in the woods.)

So NDT can seriously impair your direction going anywhere or cause you to miscount your steps. If you add steep inclines or slopes to the equation, then your bias would become even more amplified.

Most topo sessions in the army happen at night. The reason is to use the cover of darkness to conceal movement. As such, our topo sessions/exercises almost always ended around the wee hours of the morning. By the time debriefing was over, it would be near 8 o'clock and after a shower and some hurried breakfast, it would be lesson time again at 9 or 10 am! That is why OCS can be tough: not getting enough sleep!

Topo sessions for us had many memorable moments. We laughed, joked, and worried about getting lost or bumping into instructors determined to catch us for not being discreet. Or find fault with us for using unauthorized routes and shortcuts such as the highway in Taiwan, which was very often emphasized as a major "no go" zone).

On my own, I could move pretty fast and find my way without any problem. But with a platoon of men, the task then become slower. I had to adjust my own natural cadence to suit my men. For me, that was a huge concession. It's akin to asking me to think or speak slower.

My way of dealing with that was to set landmarks and milestones. Fortunately, I'd always gotten both my men and mission on target. Fellow cadets would even ask me to topo when I played the secondary role of a section commander. Anyway, the topo task would usually fall on the lead-section head of the platoon. The cadet PC would just check his map from time to time to make sure all was going well.

(Your own platoon PC would also check his map. And if he says to you in a not so friendly tone "Are you sure in you are on the right track?" it is better to double check!)

Topo skill was thus a "You scratch my back I scratch yours" kind of goodwill barter between cadets during Appointment Time. 

Oh yes, topo had to be the one OCS exercise that we cadets argued over the most. Which way to go, did we get the coordinates right, landmarks, tracks, intersections, streams, etc. In the end, it is often the guy with the best track record that wins. And of course, there are ways to check if a topo journey is going well or not.

Besides drama, our topo journeys always ended with a prayer that nothing got lost along the way. If that happened, we could kiss going back to camp on time. Everybody then had to pitch in to go search for that darn missing item!

Drama:

- Bashing. As a cadet, I remember vividly leading my platoon to an ambush position through the Mandai jungle. We ended up at the top of an embankment overlooking a service road. Topoing through the jungles of Mandai was never pleasant. The place was hilly and often blocked by plant life such as trees, shrubs and ferns. It was also full of those whippy, prickly Nipa palm shrubs that were evil reincarnate. Its stem was full of needle-sharp spines. We nicknamed them "wait-awhiles" because those sinister spines would always hook onto our uniforms as we brushed past. We'd have no choice but to stop and pause.

Then there were the penthouse ant nests hiding unsuspectingly above in the creepers and trees. Bash your way through carelessly and you would be showered down with a mess of angry red biters. 

In our platoon, it happened a few times to a guy named Willie. He's a nice chap but rather gruff and often, too eager in his tasks (Commando-type, if you know what I mean). In a jungle like Mandai, you really have to watch your front and not bash nilly-willy as if clearing a corn field.

It became especially hazardous at night. But at night, for the sake of quietness, we were naturally more careful. Thus the dangers from hive insects were much less. (Or your platoon PC would point to a less dangerous way.)

The other nuisance were ferns. Because of their shrub height and abundance, they carried much dew and made our uniforms super wet (not to mention the rifle, SBO webbing, etc., getting damp as well). Ferns were also known to us as "nature's pickpockets". They would 'steal' attached personal things such as bayonets, toggle ropes, maps and stuff in our pant side pockets.

We also had to make very sure that our pants were pulled over boots properly so that fern spores and leaves would not find their way inside.

- Snakes. In all my months of army training, I had never come across one in the forest nor jungle. Thank goodness for that! (Perhaps they were all trampled to death or scared away by a previous cohort of trainees, haha.) After a few thousand footfalls each year, any self-respecting creature would set up home far away from any training ground 'Orchard Road'! This brings me to the next point:

- Overworked training areas. A case in point would be the shellscrapes (a shallow ditch) we had to dig as a precaution against artillery shelling. After the umpteenth exercise, the ground couldn't yield anymore fresh spots to dig at. It was both frustrating and infuriating; disgusting even, when new spots turned out to be full of discarded white-tape and assorted rubbish from a previous exercise. At times, these old shellscrapes smell of latrines! 

- Losing things. Yup, folks would always lose things while topo-ing. So check your personal items or barang-barang after going some distance, or after bashing through an area thick with ferns and brambles. Chances are, some of your personal stuff will be caught and hung up somewhere like a Christmas ornament. As a precaution we would "blackstring" and "blacktape" everything before setting out so that every loose object would be tethered to our SBO or uniform (to the button eyeholes no less). We also rubberbanded down everything else neat and tight!

The important stuff we tried not to lose, stuff like bayonets, maps and prismatic compasses. These items were classed as a security risk. Besides, a brass prismatic compass alone could cost USD$300+ upwards. Who would want to sign 1206 for that?

Thinking about my NS topo adventures reminded me of a funny incident. It happened during reservist on Pulau Tekong. I was hitching a ride with some doctors travelling in a few field ambulances together and they were supposed to head to a certain location. However, after travelling for some time, the whole group got hopelessly lost. That the doctors had a GPS gadget with them (given on trial) did not help. We later found out why: those doctors did not even know how to orientate a map! They handed their maps like tourists and got hopelessly lost. All the time I was sitting behind looking bemused and thinking how qualified doctors could be so dumb. A good thing then that we were not travelling on foot or else we would be going around in endless circles!

- Best topo. I think the best topo must be the ones conducted in Taiwan - a place I found to be very scenic and nice. Sure, their mountains are big and tall and far apart, but the compensation of great views, cool air, fresh fruit availability AND the occasional village shop instant-noodle serving... makes up for all the sweat and blunder.

And topo-ing as a group is always fun if not eventful. During one topo exercise, we cadets actually ganged up to move together. We ended up having a delightful fruit party under a pomelo tree that was Amy Yip in abundance. That story is here.

So, yes, the short answer is that OCS training is tough. However, just remember that the people before you probably had it tougher. Before my cadet time, recruits and cadets were treated as nobodies and subjected to the whims and fancies of instructors and platoon commanders - the same folks who took cues from their own tough training. You must remember: in those old days, physical abuse was rife and punishment dished out nilly-willy. Suicide in unit camps was not uncommon (which was why my batch benefited from that army restructuring!)

In the end, all arduous training is just mental. My own drive to succeed in OCS was witnessing this asshole of an officer during BMT. If that scumbag could be an officer, I told myself I would be an even better one, with greater virtues and man-management skills. Above all else, officers cannot be sadists and meanies. What kind of example would they be setting to the lower ranks? You can be tough, but you have to be fair.

In war, you win some and you lose some. And it is always good to live to fight another day. Your men put their lives in your hands. They are not just attrition stats. Teach and train them to fight well as a soldier, as a group, and as a unit. Remember, the stress you get at OCS is unreal compared to real-time firefight scenarios. More likely folks will hunker down and refuse to budge once the bullets start zinging about. How are you and your men going to manage then?

I know, some commanders think the stress you feel at OCS is supposed to make you capable. But all I get from it was "jump when you are told". I didn't find it remotely useful to real-time battle conditions other then "don't give up." They should have taught the more strategic "How to take down your enemy in 101 Ways". Fight like a tiger, live like a rat, was the Vietcong's success formula! One wonders how they trained their officers and what stress they put them through at their OCS back then. Or even now!

Also understand the military tradition and why it is there and improve it some more. That has always been my motto. And OCS for me was a great place to start!

Afternote: Notice that I did not put physical fitness as a stress factor. I was already fit going into BMT (I had been a school badminton player since P2 all the way to JC2) but because of a mad dog PC during those three BMT months (see another post), me and my mates became super fit. What OCS dished out to us during Junior Term was "no spiak" to us from Echo Company Platon 17 (ITD Sembawang Camp). Because of our "Mad Dog" PC, we cruised through it without sweat! 

Playing competitive badminton most of my life (and also practising martial arts) certainly conditioned my body and mind well for NS. It does pay to have good core stamina and strength. For everything else, a good sense of humour and comradeship are just as important. Friends you make during OCS can easily be your best buddies in later life.

Bon voyage and enjoy your 'extended' adventure camp! At the end of it all, learn something. And know that all pain is but temporary. As is that stinky field camp uniform, haha!

(Note: I wonder what would be the reaction if you ask your PC if you guys could manage yourselves. Might be worth a try. I don't think our 3-trophy achievement in OCS was ever repeated.)

Next story: Trench Fighting
Previous story: One Leg Left

Golf Company

One positive thing about being part of the Demolition Team in OCS is that our office was in the Golf Company Block. In OCS at the time, the cadet companies (three platoons make a company) were housed in A to G blocks. A-B-C on one side of the road, F-E-D on the other side. They formed a U-shape with C and D blocks the furthest in. For some reason, the first block before A was designated as G Company, which only housed female cadets when their Officer Cadet Course was in session.

If women find men attractive in uniform, I can say the same of men finding women irresistible in such attire too. That bearing, that tautness of the uniform, that swept-up hair bunned up to expose the slender nape of neck, etc. - It all combines to scream smartness and sensuality. It's no different from a comely office-lass togged in a power suit. The only difference would be the missing high-heels!

Can it be that I am a closet S&M person loving to be whipped and dominated by a power-hungry dominatrix?

Maybe!

But during my time in OCS, there were some very sweet Golf cadets and officers. (In army-speak, the letter G stands for the word golf.)

During my NS, SAF women held mostly non-combat positions: Admin Head or something; It's from what I observed in OCS and read from Pioneer Magazine during that time. I suppose I could have done better to find out more. But the population of female officers was low in SAFTI then. Many were also based away at the Infantry HQ near the entrance of the camp away from OCS. Away from the prying eyes of us hormone-raging boys.

The head of OCS G Company was a Capt Tan (I think), a mature woman probably in her late 30s or early 40s. She was pleasant and wore a countenance seasoned by years in command. If Harold from Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle movie saw her, he would label her as an MILF. In other words, a Hot Mama. Incidently, John Cho's character in that movie has been forever associated with the MILF term, which irritated the actor to no end. You want to be famous for something more decent, not dirty like that. What's worse is that the term hit on a sexual trend with the result being the creation of a new porn category catering to guys (or gals) who dig MILFs.

If Capt Tan was attractive, her platoon commander was even more so and together they were a double whammy to us female-starved officers in OCS.

It made our work at the Demo Team Office both a pleasure and a distraction. Our office was on the ground floor in a corner of their block. I remember we had to keep our distance and not enter their premises without valid reason. The staircases in their block were actually gated; the male cadet ones were not. OCS rules were strict like that. After all, we guys there outnumbered the girls like 25: 1.

As cadets, we were very curious about our female counterparts and would steal glances whenever we bumped into them in or outside the cookhouse. I am sure they all felt like diamonds being ogled at by pauper thieves.

I still remember the face of one cute girl we boys all talked about. She had straight hair, sparkly eyes and a cute button nose. She was in the mould of actress Felicia Chin but with some steel. We would eventually get to know her at our passing-out party. That's what the school tries to do every time, create opportunity for us boys and girls to meet and pair off.

A female friend who was in Nursing and who had hosteled at the Singapore General Hospital during her training days told me they were often smuggled out to RSAF officer commissioning parties. So if you happen to know a couple who is an Airforce pilot and nurse, you would know how they have met. It was sneaky the way the government tries to get people hitched. Start with the uniformed services as they are most obedient and available.

The lady cadets in Golf Company learned a different syllabus during their Officer Cadet Course. It included Basic Military Training. One of the courses during BMT was grenade throwing which my team would help conduct. This gave us reason to get up close and personal with the female cadets.

My bachelor Sgt Lee was particularly cheered by it, as was Sgt Charles who had a girlfriend. However, that kind of training isn't suited to socialising at all. One false move and people you like could be blown to kingdom come.

Not a few times, their grenades failed to go off. We would then have to descend down the sandy slopes of the firing range to get rid of the duds. It was all rather harrowing and after a while, we decided it was better to be stuck in the office playing computer games then go and help them with the lessons. But it was all wishful thinking as we were the only ones qualified to teach grenade lobbing and clear blinds.

In any case, the presence of the Golf Company Cadets added a soft touch to an otherwise all-male environment. In some sense, they reminded us of our duty to protect and serve. Our girlfriends, sisters and mothers - people who often hold the fort at home - are our responsibility to protect come war. I know it is male bravado chest-beating, but it is this that makes our training more sensible and a little more bearable. If we ogled at the Golf Cadets, it was our National Duty!

Besides, with the comely Golf Company Cadets in the cookhouse, Army Food always seemed to taste a whole lot better!

Related story: Lost Fingers
Next story: Jungle Survival Training

Army Guys and Porn

Today is Valentine's Day... which may not be such a good time to talk about pornography. I mean, today's the day to be all lovey-dovey and stout-of-heart and not about jerking off and finding release. But then again, when things get a bit too amorous, erotic feelings might just rise their head or throw opportunities wide open. *wink wink.

The prude in you might object. But really, I just want to talk about army guys and porn. If you had been an NSman, you would know what I am talking about. But my first encounter with porn was not during NS. It was during JC 1.

At the time there were a couple of well-off guys in my school badminton team. One of them was a Chinese-Indonesian from Commerce stream and he would share with us magazines like Hustler and Playboy. Actually, these two magazines weren't that terrible or "yellow". Very well-written articles about our social condition could be found in them (rather frank ones, I must add) - especially in Playboy. But I think my teammate cared less about reading and more about eye-candy. He also had porn mags that were rather triple X rated. But somehow, this teammate did not come across as a sleazebag. He seemed more worldly than the rest of us "kwai-kwai" Singaporean types. Still, like the rest of us, he couldn't escape the influence of raging hormones at that vulnerable age.

Come to think of it, that was not my first exposure to such magazines. The very first time was in Sec 3 when we students were out for technical workshop lessons at another school. A classmate showed us where to get some porn magazines. It was also a place where we kids could go gamble if we so wished. That story is over here.

My first real encounter with such salacious content was when I discovered my dad's stash of playing cards. Nothing very suspicious about them except they depicted 1950s naked women in various topless poses. Miss Ace of Spade was particularly fetching. And guess what? There was also a similar pack of cards for the ladies - all 52 cards featuring Brylcreem-haired lads in their birthday suits showing off their pecs and peckers.

For a young boy curious about the female anatomy and where his own manhood was heading, these playing cards were very educational. If anything, these pictures told me that our body forms have no standard template. And like that fruit banana, they too came in different shapes and sizes. Same with papayas and mangoes, I supposed (just to be gender fair in my choice of sexual innuendos!)

For me, it wasn't such a big deal. When I was a little kid in Sarawak, I had seen topless Iban woman bringing fruit to my mom. I am not kidding, the fruit brought to our home were indeed papayas. It all seemed very natural like those topless Bali women that our local artist, the late Liu Kang, liked to paint.

How did my family end up with such playing cards? Well, they were brought back by my dad from working in Vietnam in the 60s. He was there for two years with the Caterpillar Co providing plant-support work to the American war effort in Indochina. 'Plant' to mean heavy machinery like earth diggers and excavators.

My mom knew we siblings were aware of the cards. But she was not too strict about it. All she said was: "Put them back after you are done" and that was that. If we stole any more glances, I am sure we would have gotten whacked with the cane. That had more to do with disobeying her than handling the picture cards. In any case, there's nothing pornographic about a guy or gal posing in the nude by themselves. There was no sex act. It was all very modeling-like, even artistic and educational!

However, that sex act thing would come later. It first happened when I was ten years old and when my parents brought us children to the cinema to watch that unrestrained 1970s documentary called Sex and the Animals. It was meant to be an educational trip. My parents were both open and forward like that. After the movie, I could not forget two incredible scenes: One, an amorous male frog still clamping onto his female partner two weeks after the sex act; two, an elephant's penis dragging on the floor like a long piece of damp rope. For a 10-year-old, that scene was not only mind-blowing. It was absolutely eye popping!

The second time I witnessed such coitus was eight years later when I was enjoying some time-off during my OCS Senior Term.

It was a Saturday morning and we were all in our PT kit relaxing in the cadet mess (army-term for recreational room). We had just cleared our stores (i.e. training equipment) after a major exercise. Someone had brought along a videotape and word was that it was rather special. I think it was Gerard, our platoon resident joker and GSO (girl-supply officer) who, I think, was responsible.

The title of the movie was Lady Chatterly's Lover. My first thought was that it was all very Dickensian. Well, my guess wasn't that far off as the movie was indeed a British period piece of lords and manors. But the story was something else.

We were soon pretty glued to the TV as the story unfolded. There's the fetching Lady Chatterly who was obviously mismatched to her elderly, paralysed and impotent husband. She was obviously suited to the unmarried and studly gamekeeper with the manly mustache. You know what is going to happen soon enough after they bumped into each other in the garden and started exchanging glances. There isn't going to be a three-some in this semi-autobiographical tale by DH Lawrence.

Lady Chatterly's Lover has been hailed as a porn-flick success in the adult film industry. Its portrayal of sexual coitus and lust was gradual and sensual, not wham-bang typical of most porn flicks short on story but long on action (much too long in my opinion).

For once, somebody got the story direction and flow right, of how a lady of the house might fall for hired help and be viewed in a sympathetic light. She's not just some object to be undressed and get banged up without any foreplay.

I liked Lady Chatterly's Lover for two reasons: One, the tender way in which the gamekeeper made love to her (remember that scene where he laid flowers on her naked body?) and two, the proper story that carried all that "hei-sho hei-sho" action (terms as used by Ms Lulu of The Noose). It just didn't seem porno at all. Maybe a tad voyeuristic.

And how we young men and cadets got our eyes glued to the TV that day. We learned not a few lessons, chief of which was how we could all watch that X-rated material and not get caught! It was in broad daylight and near the OCS HQ!

Later, as an officer, I would encounter fellow officers watching porn after 11pm at the officer mess. At 11pm, we would have finished playing snooker and about to head back to our bunks at the E Block barrack. One of the guys was the brother of the girl I had dated. He was supposed to be a very religious young man but yet, there he was getting his porno fix.

Although I never joined those officers in their after-hours movie viewing, I must admit to watching a few when that Annabel Chong's Gang Bang saga exploded on our local news scene. It was more out of curiosity than anything else. But in the process, I discovered that it was very easy to find porno stuff on the World Wide Web. You don't even have to pay for it, why I think parents should be more diligent, especially if their kids get hooked on stuff like that.

The thing with porn vids is that they get boring after a while, why I look back on that Lady Chatterly's Lover flick with some fondness. You meet a girl, you like her and somehow end up sharing the most intimate moments together. Isn't that how it should be? Of course, there's the hapless husband who did actually close an eye to the whole affair so his wife could be sexually happy. True love or simply a naive, cuckolded husband?

Scholars have given Lawrence's story the thumbs up. They hailed it as "not one of sexual passage but that of the search for one's integrity and wholeness." The lady learns that sex is not shameful and disappointing (as often perceived in those corsetted times) and the interloper learns of the spiritual challenges that follow physical love.

An older colleague of mine liked watching porn. I was twenty-something then and it was something I couldn't quite understand. After the initial thrill, porn gets very boring and pointless. It does turn women (mostly) into one-dimensional beings. The sexual act is only great if it is done as mutual sharing. An exploratory act even or worship. But this older colleague had something to say. His reason was: "When you get older and when younger women no longer bat you an eyelid, you'll understand."

I think I understood when I got older. It was during that infamous NYP Tammy video scandal which provided the insight. For some reason, I found her alluring. I guess which guy wouldn't when pandered to by a young thing? So my older colleague was just having a fantasy-substitution ride. "Look," he had said defensively then. "It's just harmless viewing. I don't harass women, call on prostitutes, do kiddy porn...I just watch the professional stuff."  Professional stuff? Ok, maybe he has a point. But the thing with porn is that all that consumer demand has been feeding a rather dubious industry. Were these women exploited? Is it all harmless? Remember, in Japan the porn industry is closely tied to gangsterism (aka the Yakuza) and other underworld activities. It is the same in other countries, except perhaps the United States. In the US, there are strong unions and industry groups for porn (or adult film industry, as they call it).

I like one quote from Gail Dines, the anti-porn campaigner and author of the book Pornland: How Porn Has Hijacked Our Sexuality. She says: "I am not saying that a man reads porn and goes out to rape. But what I do know is that porn gives permission to its consumers to treat women as they are treated in porn."

More sobering are the stats in her book. For example, it has been found that guys who did kiddy porn will rape a child six months into the habit. This even if they were repulsed by that kind of porn initially.

A compelling insider's story of the porn industry is linked here: Shelley Lubben's story. It's informative on so many levels.

In any case, do behave yourselves this Valentine's Day. Do not get carried away. Love is best expressed as love for that person. Period. Everything else is secondary and time will come when intimacy is called for.

As I've read in Cosmopolitan once of a woman who finally found her true love after several affairs, the feeling of coitus at the time for her was one of sea waves smashing against the cliff rocks; of riding high among rolling clouds in the sky; of thunder and lightning cracking in her joints and loins leaving her weak and scared. Love, she finally realised, required total surrender. It left her pink in the cheeks and chilled to the lips. But she wouldn't have any other way. A guy would be so lucky to be loved (and made love to) like that.

Here's another solid talk about why we should not watch porn. Some keywords: genitalia hierarchy and sexual subordination....etc.

A good talk about porn and all its guises and insidiousness. About genitalia hierarchy and sexual subordination, etc.... TEDx Talk: Why I Stopped Watching Porn

Related story: R&R in Taiwan; Next story: Golf Company

Cadet Taiwan 2 - R and R (Noodles, Books and Tiger Shows)

We cadets, of course, looked forward to our R&R at the end of our long period of Taiwan training. At the time, we weren't sure if our R&R destination was going to be Kaoshiung or Taipei. For some reason, we were told to expect the decision later. It turned out to be the industrial city of Kaoshiung. We were disappointed but not by much.

Before we left, we were given condoms to bring along. SAF soldiers were then known to be quite notorious in the red light districts of both cities.

I still remember that time we were given those lifesavers. We were all in our all-white PT kit sitting on those shared large wooden bunk beds cleaning our weapons for the very last time. In came our appointment-holder sergeant, a fellow cadet named Lim. He plonked down a plastic bag of condoms on the bed and ordered them to be passed around. "Each one take two, whether you are going to use it or not. I don't want any of them back," he said laughingly. Lim was efficient but also quite the joker. What he said was perfectly understandable. The Army had to be seen doing its job of offering sexual health aids to its 'blur', 'sotong' soldiers. And what would shy Cadet Lim do with all that prophylactics if we refused? Play stud?

I was amused at the time as I wondered which amongst us educated officer-to-be cadets would do the dumb thing of visiting a prostitute. I could understand if a Hokkien Peng soldier did that.. Not us so-called educated blokes who should know better. Of course, I was rather naive then. Visiting a prostitute has nothing to do with a person's education level. Just look at the scandal now enveloping the Civil Service in Singapore. Top civil servants involved in an online vice ring? And one of them an ex-principal of a well-known school some more. Who would expect that?

Of course, boys will always be boys. We opened the condom packs and started fooling around. Some made balloons while others showed how the condom could waterproof an M16 rifle, our wife. The Army was right: these sex aids were indeed very useful!

Kaohsiung City didn't turn out to be that bad at all. Even then it was already a proper city with wide thoroughfares and multistorey glass and concrete buildings (albeit just one or two though). Me and my buddies went to one (that looked like Takashimaya) and slurped up beef noodles at a foodcourt at the top level. The food court was an open-concept one right next to an amusement centre for kids. The noodles they served were fine (like our mee kia) and tasted handmade. It was famously from Taichung - a city we;;-known for its noodles. But the portions were small. I ended up eating three sets which drew wide-eyed looks of wonderment from that sweet girl serving us.

After the meal, we decided to look for a bookshop. At the time, Kaoshiung was the pirate book capital of Asia and I was under orders to buy certain texts for my brother's Marine Engineering course. He also advised me to pick up a title or two for my later Engineering studies at the local university. At the bookshop, we noted that a thick economic textbook was very popular with would-be students from Singapore. Another one was Grey's Anatomy, a popular but very expensive text (in original form) with the medical students.

I bought my school books (which were heavy) and also an extra lovely one on architectural rendering techniques. I still make reference to it even today. At the time I intended to make the switch from Engineering to Architecture if the administrative folks allowed.

Many of the pirated books were printed on cheap jotter paper and the illustrations in grey scale. Only the covers were of thick and embossed quality not unlike those offered by the photocopy shops in Queensway Shopping Centre. All the pirated books were priced at a fraction of the cost of the originals.

After the bookshop, we returned to our hotels to drop off the heavy items. We then went and explored Kaohsiung a bit more. At various trinket stalls, vendors were always trying to sell us "ma lao" or red jadite, which is still a major export product for Taiwan. That was not the first time we heard about such jade though.

Back at Base Camp, vendors were allowed to sell us cadet outside things in the canteen. Most sold ma lao and Cat's Eye - a dark grey or brown gemstone with a shiny slit band in the middle that made it look like the iris shape of a cat's eye, hence its name. They also tried to sell us all sorts of "kiam sern tee" or preserved tidbits. There were also local fruits.

Walking around the streets of Kaohsiung, we could not help but notice many Taiwanese girls riding scooters on their own. With a scooter, one could still wear a long swishy dress, still very feminine. Also, back then, helmet wearing wasn't compulsory yet and a few female riders could be seen wearing a sun hat or headscarf instead. It was all very charming and feminine. It was quite the sight when 10 or more scooters stopped at a traffic light.

At our hotel, a rumour was going around that someone had arranged for a Tiger Show. For the blur sotong, a Tiger Show is not a Siegfried and Roy-type of animal circus. It is a cabaret show that featured a woman doing unimaginable but incredible things with her privates. She could swallow up a beer bottle; spit out ping-pong balls like a machine gun (like that scene in the movie Priscilla: Queen of the Desert), or snap a sugarcane in two. That last bit is worth the admission ticket alone, I was told. If she could snap a sugarcane in two, what about your less than iron-clad dick?

I heard a Tiger Show performer could even swallow razor blades with her incredible vagina - a fact that would make anyone go "ewww", cross their legs, and hope not to die!

Of course, I was both disgusted and fascinated by such talk. In the end, I decided not to beladen my mind with such memories and so did not add my name to the list of patrons. I was sure the performer could do with the extra money, but I just couldn't bring myself to watch something quite like that. Such Tiger Shows would become staple for subsequent SAF soldiers who went to Taiwan and remained talked about for a long time. (A female editor friend of mine at a magazine once arranged a Tiger Show for a girlfriend's shower here in Singapore. I believe it took place at The Mandarin. Needless to say, they were all traumatised by the event and one even threw up. But that did not stop my editor friend from writing about her experience in the subsequent magazine issue.)

Before we left for R&R, our Staff Sergeant Karu did warn us to be wary of midnight knocks on our hotel doors. My buddies and I were allocated  a room on the fourth floor and worried about it. At around 1 am, sure enough, a lady knocked on my door and asked if I wanted "a xiao jie" (lady). I said no and went back to sleep.

The next morning, me and my buddy talked about it over breakfast. He was fast asleep and did not wake. We also saw a couple of xiao jies leaving the hotel. They weren't at all the skimpily-clad startlet sort with bad make-up. Most were plumpish and dressed like your average "da jie". She could have been my neighbour with a kid in kindergarten. I don't know, maybe I was too sold on 70's Hollywood image of a hooker back then.

The whole experience was rather startling. But if movies were to be believed, then the way the prostitutes behaved in a recent top-grossing Korean movie is even more unusual. In that film (titled The Chaser), prostitutes would even drive and pick up their clients and bring them to wherever they wanted the 'deed' done. This appear to make the whole economic transaction a 'buyer's market' in Korea. Is it really like that? Apparently the story was based on a real-life incident about a prostitute serial killer. (Now you can understand why it was so easy for the killer to nab his victims. They served themselves up literally!)

Another thing Staff Sgt Karu told us was to be wary when inside a barber shop. He said they provided more than just hair trimming services. It beggars the imagination of how big the sex industry was in Kaohsiung then. It would appear that every mother, daughter, aunt, hairstylist was involved in it somehow, maybe even the lady who served you beef noodles might throw in something 'extra'. The heresay and rumours became rather ridiculous (to me at least) after a while. But then again, without uniform servicemen, places like Bangkok and Subic Bay (in the Phillipines) might not have become so notorious and infamous. And we Singaporean soldiers training in Taiwan did do our part in helping create such a nefarious industry there. This aside, I remember coming across an adult cinema during one of my strolls through the backlanes of the city. It was small and seemed to be part of a dilapidated warehouse complex.

In any case, my overall R&R in Kaohsiung wasn't too bad. I really enjoyed the street food. The one thing I took away from that place wasn't the Tiger Show nor was it the brazen ladies-of-the-night calling. Nor was it the pushy salesgirls trying to sell me ma lao jade all the time. It was that traffic there could be a killer. Whether it was bike or taxi, the folks there drove with impunity, crisscrossing lanes and weaving in and out of traffic with no regard for rules or their own lives even. It was very similar to the traffic lawlessness in India or Batam today.

After a narrow miss waiting to cross a side street, I remember thinking how silly it would be for me to survive mountainous Taiwan army training to be killed like a stray dog on the street. That was something the good folks in the Army did not warn us about. No amount of condoms is going to help me with that one if I didn't open my own eyes to what's zooming about me. 

Afternote: It would be 12 years later that I revisited Taiwan for army training. This time the R&R was in Taipei. Traffic might have improved but the same sexual activities still beckoned, including that infamous Tiger Show. 

Related story: Army Guys & Porn Next story: Tough Cadet Training

Cadet Taiwan 1 - Training

I think as a cadet, we all looked upon our impending training in Taiwan as some sort of expansive military training that included travel. It's not the same as Brunei. Brunei was more jungle and back to basics. Taiwan, we romanticised as a place of natural beauty with scenic and spiritual mountains and valleys and rice fields.

We also understood that in Taiwan, Point A to Point B would be wholly further than the same two points in Singapore! But that's ok. The cool weather in Taiwan made walking that distance a pleasure (or so we imagined).

We went to Taiwan during our Senior Term in OCS when we were already "lao chiau" (old bird) cadets; it was just another exercise for us (named Ex Starlight). But to those who were vying for the Sword of Honor award, Taiwan training was proofing ground for appointment holders. I had no such aspirations, so I pretty much looked forward to our "holiday" trip.

To Brunei, we flew on C130 cargo planes; to Taiwan, we took SIA planes. That itself said something very different about our training focus.

From the airport, we took a long bus ride to Hengchun - a dusty outpost right at the southern tip of the Taiwan island.

We stayed in old single and double-storeyed brick/plaster buildings with peeling paint, and slept on communal wooden bunkbeds (long, wide ones). We did everything communal then. When we bathed, we scooped cold water from a waist-high cement trough in the centre of the bathroom. When we pooped it was a squat over a long drain that ran through all the cubicles. God bless if the person in the cubicle before you was having diarrhea; everything would just run by you if someone flushed. As you can expect in such a situation, toilet ceremonies were accomplished with a minimum of fuss. Who could loiter and read in such conditions? (The rush to the toilet was usually to "secure" the use of the first toilet in the row, to avoid all the other "shit", so to speak!)

Although training was tough, I enjoyed my Taiwan topo the most. We crisscrossed mountains and many farmlands. The scenery was unlike anything most of us have seen, not even in Malaysia, except perhaps Cameron Highlands. There were a couple of memorable incidents: One time, my topo group bumped into another and we decided to join force. The six or so of us were hungry and thirsty. Not long after, we chanced upon an orchard and walked by a pomelo tree with some 12-14 ripe fruits hanging invitingly in the air. The tree was average sized but narrow, no taller than the usual rambutan tree in Singapore. We knew the fruits were ripe because a few had already dropped to the ground.

Having eaten all the fruits we could pick up (and checking to see that no one was around) we used the last pomelo as a tossing cannonball to knock the others off their high perches. Down they came with hardly a dent (there was ample of us to catch the falling ones). Incredibly we sat there and ate them all up, cradling our rifles all the time in case we needed to scoot. That was one satisfying fruit "robbing" trip, better than drinking those instant lemonade drink the SAF provided in our combat rations. The pomelo juice was all natural!

However, as good soldiers, we felt guilty looking at the bare tree afterwards and so decided to leave some money behind as recompense. We jammed the notes into the latch-lock of a small shed by the tree. We hoped the amount would be enough for what we took! Oddly enough, that was the only pomelo tree there. Perhaps we were destined to run into this "giving" tree*, haha. (*A Shel Silverstein book reference.)

Another time, after sampling some soft and juicy pear-sized guava fruit (walking through an orchard no less), we came upon a stretch of light forested area that was filled with large grey spiders. Usually chatty and talking cock during open topo trips like this, we for once shut up and held out our rifles in front of us. That way, we could break any web that might happen to lay across our path. The way we were supposed to go was a footpath through a light secondary forest; we had little choice but to continue. With so many spiders to the left and right of us, the whole passage was quite unnerving. Besides, the situation was made worse with daylight failing. Fortunately, we managed to tiptoe our way out of there without incident. No spider attacked us nor anyone turned hysterical!

At the end of the path, we turned each other round to make sure no eight-legged furball hitched a ride on our SBOs and full-packs. And guess what? We later learned that Taiwan was home to giant brown tarantulas as well. I guess it was good that we did not know that fact earlier or else we would have high-tailed out of there like schoolgirls seeing a ghost. That would have caused some post traumatic stress disorder or PSTD, eh? Man, that would be most embarrassing!

I enjoyed topo-ing through the south of Taiwan very much. It was all very scenic and nostalgic. Often we would come across some charming hamlet with an old Chinese house dating back to the early century, set in some valley painted rush yellow by rice fields waiting to be harvested. There would be streams trickling by stone embanked roads or into rock pools.

The households were often friendly, and the hamlet store owners happy to make us tired soldiers a nice bowl of cup noodles. The kids loved our SAF-issued hardtack biscuits because the taste was actually milky. I liked them biscuits too and would off-load any we could spare to the hamlet kids running up to us chanting "ah ping ge" (Big Brother soldier). One time I even saw the hardtack biscuits being sold from a tin in a hamlet shop still packed in their dark green army packaging.

Another thing about the kids was that they were always very tanned, looking very much like Malay or Thai children. I think it had to do with the fact that high up in the mountains, UV rays were stronger. The village men and women folk were also no less spared. No wonder they all wore long-sleeved shirts and covered their heads with a scarf or straw hat when out in the fields!

Up in the mountains, it would get very cold suddenly too. We then had no choice but to put on those smelly and scratchy SAF woolen pullovers. Taiwan was perhaps the only time we used them as coming from tropical Singapore we didn't need them usually. I wonder if such pullovers are standard issue still.

Food back in base camp was ok. The bonus was to be given the unusual produce from Taiwan's huge fruit industry. I had my first taste (or no taste, depending on one's reaction) of dragon fruit; as well as a green apple-ish fruit that had flesh the fibrous texture of celery stalk. I've not eaten or seen that fruit since.

Probably the toughest training we had during Taiwan was the one that involved digging defensive positions or a.k.a "trench digging".

The hill we Platoon 10 was assigned to defend was part of a mountainous range. As usual the place had been dug before by  a previous batch of trainees and finding a new spot there to dig became a challenge. That was not the only problem. The area had ready-made bunkers that we were all grateful to discover. Yay! No more digging or so we thought. We actually put the suggestion to our platoon commander, Capt Ang. Weren't we suppose to use existing structures whenever possible to save time and energy? Wasn't that what we were taught?

No, came the reply. Don't get smart-alecky with me, Capt Ang said. You dig.

And so, we "kuai kuai" returned to our positions and marked out our future trenches. We knew it was a long shot getting Capt Ang to agree as we were on a training exercise. But dang, staying in those mad-made bunkers would have been such a sweet deal! And so, not really disappointed, we dug and dug and dug. And dug some  more.

What was supposed to be a two-night affair turned out to be a four-night one with the trenches going no further than knee-deep. The trenches were supposed to be chest-deep by then. The earth was not hard but the rocks were, as were the roots of those tough, sinuous mountain trees.

We broke so many changkuls that Capt Ang finally gave the order to stop. We couldn't afford to sign any more 1206s (army doc for lost or damaged goods). We cadets also couldn't afford any more fingers for blistering either.

In the end, we went back to the original idea of using the existing structures. I was fortunate to be next to one and so organised noodle parties on the quiet for my cadet buddies who were on the same ridge line. That simple bunker shielded us from our imaginary enemies and our not-so-imaginary instructors. It kept the wind out marvelously for our stove-fires to keep going for churning up warm and comforting noodle soup. Man, what comfort!

Afternote: After some experience, my advice is not to have instant noodles. The chemicals play havoc with your bowel system (same with 3-in-1 teas and coffees). It's better to just have fruit. In any case, there's so much option in the supermart these days - from cup soups to cup noodles to packet cereal. Milo was fine but Horlicks we avoided because it made us heaty. And, instant beehoon was at the time a novelty.

Related story: Lantern Night and Brunei Training; Next: R&R in Kaohsiung

Brunei Training

Many who have gone through NS would point to their overseas stints as some of the toughest. For Infantry fellas, that would be Brunei and Taiwan (or ROC as it was commonly known then, i.e the Republic of China). At the time, NS fellas also went to Thailand where guardsmen trained with helicopters and tanks. Their chief complaint? That the place and weather were devilishly hot and parched.

Taiwan was tough because its mountains were real, not the exaggerated mole hills like those found in Singapore. A flanking movement around a typical mountain there took 35 mins, not ten. And when we marched to a fighting locale, it was at a fast pace for at least 5 km non-stop, often over rocky terrain beside stream beds. At the end, your soles would be blistered and your backs bent.

But the training in Taiwan was not without its compensations. The scenery was good and the occasional nutrition (aka forbidden farm fruit) delicious. Guava fruit was typically soft-fleshed and as big as a Chinese pear.

There were plenty of padi fields too from which we 'ah peng-gor' (Hokkien) were banned from cutting through. Taiwanese farmers enjoyed complaining about our transgressions, whether real or imagined, and would then ask for compensation from our Ministry of Defence. A boot print found on a bund became a whole platoon trampling all over - that kind of exaggerated story. Since we were guest soldiers in another country, it was understandable for the Army to get all sensitive and antsy over this matter. They said a footprint cost the government some $20,000 each time.

The icing on the cake for every Taiwan trip was the R&R, which stood for "rest and relax", more so relax, I think. In Brunei, I don't remember being offered any R&R. It was training and back we came. In any case, there wasn't much to do in that country except pray and swat flies. The main town itself was as dull as the colour of its main river, which was many times wider, larger and browner than our own.

In Brunei, their hills and mountains were also many times higher and larger. - They were a hell lot steeper too. And the slopes there always seemed to go on and on (like in that song, Stairway To Heaven). A climb would invariably lead to a higher one and a new horizon. The slopes will tease you, mock you. So when folks say Brunei training is tough, believe it. People don't come back with "thunder thighs" for no reason. The steep hill-climbing may be "sibeh siong'" (very tough, as they say in Hokkien) but hey, not insurmountable. Folks have done it and so have I! You can too!

To Brunei, I went as a cadet. To Taiwan, I went twice; once as a cadet and then as a reservist.

My cadet Brunei trip was memorable because I was the admin appointment holder (platoon sergeant role) both before and during the trip. Usually it is one or the other but I had excelled bringing the whole platoon over, so Sgt Karu and Capt Ang (my platoon sergeant and commander respectively) decided to keep me on to make sure that our time in Brunei was smooth and trouble-free. I didn't mind it at all because I was doing a good job. It would only be terrible if they had kept me on because I was faltering and needed "further assessment".

But I was terribly tired because I had not slept for four days. Capt Ang actually had me do guard duty the weekend before our trip (see "Mr Sign Extra" blog) which I thought was rather lousy timing. But once Capt Ang said "Take extra!", that was that. Any further bargaining was futile.

I remember arriving in Brunei and then settling my boys into a wooden bunkhouse. The place was rather cramped and we had to sleep on bunkbeds that were part of the structure. After dumping our duffel bags inside we then assembled outside for further briefing. There were admin matters to inform everyone. Matters such as where the ROs (routine orders) would be pinned up, armskote procedures, etc. Usually the first exercises were the topo ones and so maps and such had to be drawn out from the stores and folded up to their respective area of ops and "talced" (covered in clear plastic and waterproofed).

There was the weaponry to dispense as well. We all hoped to get a weapon (the M16 rifle) that is not too dirty from the previous batch of soldiers. But even if they had been cleaned and oiled these weapons would always be dirty. "Elephants" could still be found in the barrels. We often wondered how the previous batch passed inspection in the first place!

Losing and damaging stuff overseas was a major concern. If we had misplaced something in Singapore during training we could go always double back to look for it. But not so when overseas. It would be too much of a hassle what with the distance and big training area.

When something was damaged or lost, we all signed that familiar 1206 document and pay $$$ for it. "1206" thus became army buzzword for things lost or damaged. No matter who lost what, we all signed 1206 for the item as a group. The money came out of our own collective pockets.

But some things were just too precious to lose. Restricted stuff like maps, compasses, and of course, the M16 rifle. A soldier could get charged with misdemeanor or be court-marshalled for losing important and pricey items. No one in my platoon ever got charged, but we did lose a couple of dummy claymore mines.

To get over my lack of sleep and keep my energy up, I took to eating chocolate bars. In particular, there was this delicious one with coconut filling. I remember it was not a Cadbury but a Bounty - bought from that Chinese Emporium at Woodlands Central near the Causeway Police Customs just outside my home.

In any case, I finally managed to lay my head down that first night in Brunei. It wasn't the best sleep but it was enough. As admin sergeant, I was the first to wake up the next day and be ready earlier than the rest. My internal alarm works best when I have a task ahead of me.

The next few days in Brunei flew by real quick.

We started off with topo exercises to get a feel of the land. And then it was section exercises followed by platoon ones.

Whenever outside in the jungle, we were always wary of leeches. A damp patch on the ground was indication enough. In Brunei, leeches did not just crawl on the ground but dropped from the above tree canopy as well. The first time we were back from an exercise, some of us were already bitten. One cadet had a couple of small leeches on his crotch. That made us boys respect the little critters a little more. It took real talent to wriggle all the way up there!

To get rid of these creatures, we were told to use either fire or vinegar. I had both on me: a lighter and a small eyedrop bottle filled with household vinegar. The bottle was a recycled Eye-Mo one handy enough to be rubberbanded onto the helmet like how the GIs in Vietnam did theirs.

I was never bitten. The only leeches I saw were the ones my platoon mates brought back to the bunk. (The same in Taiwan, actually)

A preparation we were told to make to deter the leeches and mosquitoes had us soaking our army fatigues in red tobacco water (red tobacco as those rolled by amahs of old. If you think pre-packed cigarettes are expensive today, just go to a Chinese medical hall shop and buy these roll ones. They are cheaper but deadlier as they do not have any filters). We all carried out that uniform soaking thing. I am not sure if it worked but there was no harm otherwise.

Besides the leeches, mud and weather also conspired to make life difficult in Brunei. Mud could be everywhere and anywhere.... and a few of us had a taste of it when we unwittingly walked onto what we thought was hard, dried mud. We were in a clearing on the edge of a jungle. What happened then was that we sank crotch-deep into one innocently looking caked-up surface. It was quite demoralising as we still had a better part of the day to get through. Imagine your boots and pants all caked in clayish mud not long after setting off from camp! As usual, we learned to clean up and disregard such annoyances and pressed on.

(The deep mud reminded me of quick sand, something I was very wary of because I watched TV Tarzan a lot when I was a kid. Fortunately, the mud holes we encountered were not dangerous at all. And the rivers were usually dry and had no crocodiles for us to wrestle in!)

Brunei's weather was predictable but bad for trips into the jungle. It would be searingly hot in the mornings and by four in the afternoon, a thunderstorm. We would often get drenched come sundown. Although the rain cooled us down, it also got our uniforms wet. It was better to be dry going into the night for it would be a few hours more before we settled down and harboured. The rain also made us use up an extra set of uniforms, something we could ill afford. (Especially when there's a river crossing too.)

Moving about in the Bruneian jungle at night was challenging. It was always pitch black and cold. Condensation was very bad in the mornings and if one was not careful, exposed stuff could get very very wet (like your uniform and M16). Then there's deadfall, or what happens when dying branches drop from trees and hit the ground (if they didn't hit you first!).

At one time while rushing to get to an RV (rendezvous) point, we half-skipped, half-ran through the jungle in the night. It was a miracle no one sprained an ankle or twisted a knee. Our eyes actually got accustomed to the darkness without ever needing any torchlight. When we harboured that night, Sgt Karu and PC Ang brought us to a particular place. It had very little canopy cover and for once we welcomed the stars. We found out why later that night when we heard 'thumps' nearby. Deadfall had missed us by not much, but we were all safe and sound.

Another thing that impacted our Brunei training were the fire ants. They were so huge that whenever they marched over dead leaves at night, we could hear them crunching along. To avoid them, we were taught to sleep in trees. The same with ground snakes. We also used yellow sulphur powder to repel them, sprinkling them along the edges of our ground sheet. That worked quite well actually. Sulphur powder was not provided by the army then. We had to buy them outside, from army surplus shops like those along Beach Road.

Some say you are not really a soldier until you have been to Brunei. In a sense, that's true. The terrain, weather, creatures... all conspire to test your endurance. In the end, it is You vs Nature. I took it as one big adventure camp and got through it. I was also into badminton and was grateful for the thunder thighs the training gave me. We often sprinted up and down slopes as part of endurance training. Thunder thighs are needed to help you do a jump-smash.

One challenge proved more difficult: the whining and complaining of platoon mates. Out in the field, that could be irritating. Mostly it had to do with poor physical and mental condition. Some mates needed a little cajoling to feel better. In cases such as these, I've always found stuff like mints and "kiam sern tee" (Hokkien) to work best. As always, go to a place prepared, especially Brunei!

Some topo sessions became our best time for 'talking cock' and telling each other knock-knock jokes. Off-colour ones even, why army time with friends is always special for many.

At the end of day, the jungle can either be your friend or enemy. A friend with spikes, actually.

The Bruneian jungle is quite similar to Singapore's Mandai and have many of those "wait-a-while" Nipal palm shrubs that have stems covered in thorns. They hook onto your uniform or make it tough for you to clear a path. So it is not good at all to slip on a slope and accidentally grab one. I almost did one time but saw it just in the nick of time. You can imagine the pain that would have ensued!

When in Brunei, one really needs to keep an eye out at all times even if it is pitch black at night. For me, Brunei was a challenging but memorable trip. End of day, almost every NS fella has to go through it. Now I can say I have been baptised.

Afternote: To prepare for Brunei, we were told to jog with a fullpack with a 5-kg pack of rice in it. Yes, I did do that, especially on weekends at home. Running and 'duck-walking' up slopes also helped to develop muscular thighs. These days, NS men can easily go to a gym at one of the SAFRA centres or neighbourhood stadium. Back in my day, that was rather unusual; only certain community centres had such hobby clubs and equipment (and basic ones at that).

Related stories: Field Camp and Taiwan Training

Lost Fingers

Looking back, I am glad to have joined the Weapons and Demolition 'Demo' Team in OCS. Besides feeling extra special about being the only instructor team left in the school, the experience gave me extra confidence and knowledge in handling dangerous explosives even if the kinds we deployed then were limited to military use.

We used two kinds: 1. Those that were very sensitive to temperature and pressure; 2. Those that you could throw into a fire. Knowing which was which and what was what made one less a "panic chicken" when confronted with a sample to use. At OCS, it made for a saner existence and a calmer teaching environment.

Probably the most notorious explosive of them all had to be this electric detonator that came in a small aluminum tube with two long trailing electrical wires attached (usually in yellow and white). Most folks were fearful of handling EDs and who could blame them! They were easily induced with electrical energy by stray radio waves and explode. You see, a detonator is very simply a small explosive charge that sets off a larger one. And often, a VERY MUCH BIGGER ONE!. This is because explosives are like chronically lazy people who needs a kick up their backsides to get them going. And like a party balloon exploding, they would wake up with a pop. Like Austin Powers might say, "It's shockwave, baby!"

Basically, in the world of explosives, there are two types of detonators: Electric (ED) and non-electric (NED). The difference lay in how you want to set it off. The detonator themselves are of the same construct. If you slice one open (just imagine it, don't do it), it consists of a high explosive (HE) element at the far end, some intermediate explosive in the middle, and some fire-sensitive explosive at the near end. Sometimes the middle bit is skipped and only two composite compounds are used. And the reason for having a fire-sensitive end is so it can be activated by a burning fuse (which is nothing but gun powder or cordite wrapped up in water-proof paper). Often, this sensitive compound of the detonator is cued to pressure as well, so it is not good to go stomping on one! Or even attempt to push one into a plastic explosive like they always do in the movies. The friction can cause heat and make the detonator explode. We were taught to always use a pen or finger to make a hole first!)

In EDs, the means of firing is an electronic fuse, not a match-lit one. Think of a bulb filament being afixed inside a non-electronic detonator. When that filament glows, kaboom! So when carrying EDs around, it is never a good idea for the two wire leads (one +ve, the other -ve) to be picking up stray electromagnetic inductions. The detonator bit may be small (usually the size of an AA battery and half as thin) but it is after all an HE charge. Even if you don't die, a large part of you will be pulverized. I don't recommend it even if it is to tenderise meat. And high explosives have a particularly noxious smell.

To prevent EDs from accidentally catching, the thing to do is twist their end strands together. In this way, eddy currents (i.e. induced electric currents) will be shorted out and not circulate. You live to blow something else up another day!

One demonstration we liked to show the cadets during the lesson on detonators was called The Helmet Show. It was to emphasize how powerful a small detonator can be. We would fire off an NED under a steel helmet (the good ol' SAF steel helmet). A loud boom would result sending the helmet flying some 4m into the air. It's quite the spectacular sight and cadets would ooh and aah. They then quickly suck in breath when the helmet lands with a mighty thud in front of them.

I went through the same experience as a cadet myself. It gave me renewed respect for explosives, especially seeing how that powerful NED is not much bigger than our little pinky!

After the show, the cadets would then be required to practice crimping a detonator to a safety fuse. Although dummy detonators were used, some of the cadets still shivered with fear. It's true, if you had crimped too high on the sensitive part of the detonator it would blow up in your face. But with dummies, there was really nothing to worry about. (Well, unless you are the sort of clumsy clod who can even cut off a finger while trimming nails...then, God-bless.  You know, it's kind of impossible!)

However, we instructors were extra merciless with those "scaredy" cadets. We would drum into them the need to be discerning. No cadet graduated from my class (or any of my instructor's) as a Panic Chicken nor Cocky Bastard. Handling explosives require knowledge, care and respect. If you are short on one attribute, your time on this Earth could be severely limited. And on critical missions, I just cannot have an officer be unsure of handling what I find to be a powerful and useful weapon.

Back then, cadets in OCS had always been taught explosives during their Demolition lessons; they learnt the various kinds of charges and how to use them to blow up obstacles and booby traps. They would then carry this knowledge with them when they graduate as officers. But how much they remember or is confident of executing any demolition work is up to anyone's guess. Often, they only reprise this knowledge when setting up simulation charges for use during 'realistic' training exercises. At the time, a common explosive charge for this purpose was Ammunol (my spelling), a cylindrical thing sized between a condensed milk tin and a Milo one. It was more for sound effect than actual destruction although the hole it did make was rather large. Hey, it is still made up of TNT flakes loosely packed into a plastic container! An HE charge no less. Also, explosives in flake form can still do extensive damage. We used to pack a sack of it and place it at the base of a slope to send to blow a three tonner over (what is now known as road side incendiaries or IEDs (Iraq War-speak)).

As head of Demo Team, I always wondered how much explosive knowledge my cadets would retain after graduating as officers. If they were my students, I could make a guess. But for cadets/officers prior to my time, I had no inkling. If officers forget, they could simply refer to a handbook on the subject. It was the same anyway in the world's military.

One day, the thing we feared most happened. An officer and a couple of cadets were seriously injured during a routine training exercise. A simulation explosive circuit they had set up went off before it was fully put in place.

It killed a cadet instantly and wounded another; I think he lost an arm. The officer in charge (someone I didn't train and who was about to ROD) lost a number of fingers and had a side of his body burnt. Scant consolation for him.

As usual, a BOI - board of inquiry - was formed. My school head then, a Major Tan, called me into his office to better understand what could have happened. He gave me some details and asked for my opinion. From what he told me, it was an obvious case of premature detonation. That event in itself is not surprising. Electric thunderstorms have been known to set off detonators by accident. I remember reading a Vietnam War case of how claymore mines - an electrically fired anti-personnel mine - would set themselves off when surrounded by electrostatic air. And thunderstorms were then known to even set off road mines by direct lightning strikes.

But it was how the cadets and officer were injured that told me how the accident might have happened.

There is a sequence when it comes to laying out an explosive circuit. First, you need a trigger. Second, a detonator. Third, if the distance to the charge is long, a conducting det-cord is required. Fourth, the charge itself. It is quite straight forward on paper and it doesn't matter if it is an electrical or non-electrical setup - they all follow the same schema.

However, the actual work is quite different: There is only one sequence to doing it right. You start with the main charge and work backwards. You don't ever mix the more sensitive smaller charges (detonators) with the less sensitive bigger ones (a main charge like Ammunol) until you are ready to do so. (There's an operational imperative for putting the main charge in position first, but I let you figure that out for yourself.)

However, some soldiers (the commandos?) like to take the short-cut and lay everything out at the same time, i.e. have someone connect up the main charge while someone else is fixing up the trigger device. Another guy would be laying down the det-cord. It is like having three persons clean a rifle when it is fully loaded and cocked.

I know many elect to do it this way just to save time. This is especially so when the simulation circuit is large (trying to simulate multiple bombings) and the exercise is at night and everybody wanting to finish early and go home. But it is a very dangerous stunt to contemplate. Only in very extreme circumstances (involving the Special Forces?) should it be done.

After it became apparent to me what went wrong, I suggested to the CI that perhaps the next time, if ever a company was uncertain about Demolition matters, they should just contact my team right away. We would be most happy to do it for them.

Well, a few weeks later, when the use-of-explosives-in-training embargo was lifted, my suggestion to the CI became de facto. Henceforth, all simulation circuits would be designed and laid out by the Demo Team. My team partner Fong and I were only too glad to take on that extra responsibility, which would mean more nights out with the cadets at their training locations. Fong and I would not have it any other way. Something mortally bad had already happened, it made no sense to let it happen again either by chance, by force majeur (unpredictable weather) or even simple human error. In any case, the company commanders and their Mentor instructors themselves were really grateful and would treat us Demo Team members very well, even fetching us food and making sure we always had a spot at their GS dining table. (Fong and I used to joke: "Here goes our last meal!")

The CI never shared with me what the BOI found. They always never do. I did meet up with the injured officer after he was discharged from hospital. Besides losing some fingers, his hearing and sight were also affected. He was one of the better Mentor instructors so I felt bad for him. I just hoped that his emotional scars would heal just as quickly as his physical wounds.

From that time on, OCS never suffered anymore cases of injury from explosives used in training. We had removed an uncertain factor in one of its application in the school.

High explosives are powerful but they can be tamed. Just don't "play-play". Even explosives kept long in storage can behave in unpredictable ways. An example is the hand grenade. But that's another story.

(Note: If you were a cadet in OCS before, a confession for you: We actually used two detonators instead of one in The Helmet Show. It's more spectacular and you must admit, it worked! It does leave a deeper impression. This was something of a legacy practice in Demo teaching and the Team passed it  on from one batch of instructors to the next . ;-) Related story: Dead Cadet