I'm a survivor

Someone get that Runt of the litter to sing me his song. I managed to come back in more or less one piece from the jungle, perforated with bites but still alive.

E&E

Off to a jungle somewhere out there, hopefully able to come back in one piece. And breathing. Let the rain pour, or the spar be ever elusive, let the road be long and the journey ardous, I will escape and evade, I will not lay down my arms or raise the white flag, I will never give up. All for you.

Don

TO SOMEONE SPECIAL

Happy Anniversary.

Jarhead

*Reville song plays in the background. Good morning one and all. Rise and shine! Just booked out from camp, what a way to spend a holiday, being holed up in the Duty Room staring at the wall...But it's ok, I had much entertainment and I was about to waste my day sleeping at home anyway.

Jarhead, cool movie. I am so going to catch this one with the guys, it's like BMT all over again. Except we'll be the one watching someone suffer in boot camp. Synopsis, real story of a Marine who goes through boot camp then goes to Iraq for Ops Desert Storm. The life of a soldier, the months of training, days of waiting, hours of boredom, minutes of unsurpassed excitement, and seconds of sheer terror. Wow, I might as well be an ad for the movie or something, but hey, I guess it's cool to see how my life looks like dramatised for the silver screen. Ok, so maybe not my life, but generally so.

It's been one year exactly since I started this little blog, and have been rereading my entries since day 1. How I have grown, from an idealistic schoolBOY, to kickass pilot...err, trainee. Hahaz, I never expected to take this path, but hey, people grow along the way, and things change. Like I said in my first post, change is truly the only constant. In one year in the army, I have learnt more, done more, than in my entire 12 years in schooling. I feel that the armed forces have given me something most will never have, a chance to do and dare, to be and bear. I love my job, and I thank God everyday for giving me a chance to be in the force which is above all.

Making pledges

I admit I took my time to write this up, having not blogged for well over a month. I must try and at least keep up the schedule of updating my blog, and not be so lazy. Lots of stuff has happened between the last post and now, with certain milestones in my life having popped up in my life. I chiong Peng Kang sua, ate CS gas, CASEVACed, got initiated, switched to No.3, learnt stuff most people will never get to know, blew targets away estatically with my P226, and I guess the most important one of all is when I found a part of myself, in someone else. Life has never been better.

Sitting here writing this up in my wing line, I guess it's a blessing in itself. The SAF is evolving, and I think I'm in the force which will see this transformation first. To all those in NS and who cannot imagine the SAF to be nothing more than wayang, I challenge you to sign on and find out more, because there is so much more.

Happy Birthday to the various people who are having theirs this month, including my mum and sis. A year older, but also a year wiser, or so I hope. Some people just don't grow up, and though sometimes that may be a good thing, most times it just makes you backward, lost in a world which has gone on without you. Let's hope 'forward looking' becomes a mainstay in the vocabulary of more people around the world.

A blog without a point, but hey something is better than nothing. When I'm a bit more awake and sane, maybe I'll put in a more substantial entry. Till then, let fly yourself, don't hold back. You never know what heights you can reach...

Don

Like Nothing on Earth

My next ride in the sky, looks kinda cool. At least I no longer have to suffer the torque and mannerisms of a single prop aircraft anymore, I hope. Yes, the SIAI Marchetti S211, a jet aircraft built for "anti-insurgency operations" and more importantly, as a trainer jet for people learning the ropes of flying (aka me). It's an aging beauty, soon to be retired and replaced by another trainer aircraft, but hey, I'm thankful for small graces, being the last few batches to fly a jet for basic wing course.

Met up wif Lingli and John and all her pals for her birthday cum farewell party, seems I'm not gonna be the only one doing all the flying. To my co-OGL, best of luck in London, and here's hoping you can navigate safely with my gift. I'll be there to send ya off, even if it means I gotta make the long trip there and back at 3am in the morning...

It's just one day after the 4th anniversary of 9/11, feels like a long time already since I got glued to the TV set that night, seeing all the death and destruction. I went to bed that night, thinking what I could do in such a situation. And I felt helpless, even when I was half a world away from where it happened, there was nothing I could think of doing. Guess that is when it hit me, that the only way to respond to such a terror attack, is to prevent it, and maybe that was my impetus for wanting to join the armed forces. Put those terrorists where they belong, not in a commercial jet airliner, but in a hole deep enough they can hear the devil call their name.

The RSAF new line in their TV ads, a force like nothing on Earth, I truly hope we can live up to that motto. It's the only way we can stop those who threaten me and those I love, by an unprecedented action that they will never expect, giving them back the nasty surprise they first threw on us. By giving them 1 X GOOD ONE, like nothing on Earth.

Picture says it all

CAVOK

WARNING, OBNOXIOUSLY LONG ENTRY.

Ok, now that I have warned you already, I shall go ahead and let off 6 weeks worth of rants and raves. So much has happened it's hard to remember where it all started, so maybe it's better to just go in dribs and drabs of information. I've been training overseas, and it's been quite a long month. Now I know what it means to miss home, every smell and sight and sound and touch. And especially taste, goodness gracious you won't know what hell it is for a Singaporean not to have the assortment of food we have here. Char Kuay Teow, Bak Kut Teh, Nasi Lemak, ROTI PRATA, I miss you!

And then there are the long and lonely nights, when you just miss the voices of those you love. I feel that my 170 dollar phone bill is worth every cent, considering how just listening to those I love back home when overseas is such a precious thing. To all friends and family, you kept me going when I thought there was nothing left in me. In aviation terms, you were the wind beneath my wings, that kept me flying.

Flying is an experience that really help me see who I am, it puts you in a situation where how well you do depends on how much you ask of yourself, and the rest was just up to how good you are. Anyone can fly a plane, but it takes grit and natural talent to be a pilot. Seeing how naturally my instructors took to flying made me envious, flying seemed as easy as breathing to them. Of course they have the advantage of thousands of hours of experience, but I think it was more of an innate ability then anything else. To be able to control a plane, watching for aircraft all around, handle 20+ instruments and watching gauges and pushing the right switches at the right time, navigate the area, AND still enjoy doing all these, it takes a superhuman. I enjoyed flying, but am still a bit wonky on multi-tasking.

I have to thank all the instructors who took me, for being the devil in the plane, taking me apart on the smallest of mistakes, shooting my ego to pieces, and generally giving me 1 x good one in the air. Without all of you, I don't think I'll ever keep a plane safely in the sky, let alone keep my country's skies safe. Despite how ruthlessly I was clamped down on in the air, I thank all QFIs, you taught me what it means to be a pilot, and more importantly, all of you let me discover what I truly loved to do, something I loved so much I was willing to 'tahan' everything you could throw at me and still want to go up again. I may never be as great a pilot as any of you, being only a 'justifiable training risk', I sure as hell will give it everything I have.

To 0805, it's been a pleasure to fly with all of you. Thanks for all the movie nights, the morning ops briefs, the minesweeper matches, the walks down Peel St. , the $8 pizzas, the guniang soccer games, the EODD 'tips', the callsigns (Black Lips, Harry, Chui chui, CB Lips, Room, Countryman, Grago, Wings Already, 07.505, Magneto, Stupid, etc.). The memories. Special mention to the 'Cold 4', every Friday we were out on a balcony sipping Carlton's or Coronas and paying tribute to Philip Morris with our lighthouses. I would gladly freeze my butt off any day to sit with all of you anytime again, to drink myself silly till I get liver cirrhosis and smoke till my lungs fill with tar. Cigarettes and alcohol, forever.

A quote, about flying, from none other than the father(s) of modern aviation

More than anything else the sensation is one of perfect peace mingled with an excitement that strains every nerve to the utmost, if you can conceive of such a combination.
— Wilbur Wright

My fellow aviators will know what CAVOK means, but here's to all who don't. It basically means great weather to fly in, and that describes my life now. Perfect.

Don

Trying hard to stay in the air

It's been some time since i last updated, but it's also been some time since i've been allowed near a computer too. Been busy here trying to stay up in the air, flying's quite a handful/headful. Never knew it was so tough just to keep a plane in the air, and starting to see that being a pilot means having more than a hotshot attitude and perfect eyesight.

I try my best on the ground preparing as much as i can, but like i said to many before, it's simply different when you're in the air. I have only started to be able to manage some semblance of flying, still making mistakes in some basic points of flying, and they're already teaching more advanced stuff, wondering how i can ever catch up to this pace. But like the instructors say, i try my best, they do the rest. if i can't make the cut, then i guess i wasn't made out to be a military aviator in the first place.

Missing everyone at home and all my friends, but i should be wrapping up soon here, as a pilot or not. Here's a lil shout to all the scouts and councillors and frenz, gd luck in all that ur doing, meet u soon.

Don

Not goodbye, just see you later

Just came back from the airport, sent off a classmate leaving for Australia. It was kind of like rojak, with her friends from secondary school, JC, church and CCA, plus her family to see her off. I guess it was very emotional for her, seeing so many people who cared about her all together seeing her off, and makes it all that much harder to drag oneself to the check-in counter, and bid everyone goodbye just one more time. So here's to you April, for being so brave to leave the only world you know for another, and best of luck in Melbourne.

I'm probably not going to reenact that scene on Monday, a quick goodbye suffices for me. Plus, I'm only gone a month or two, think I can live through that without saying so many goodbyes. And, I don't think I'll be able to survive seeing so many people who know me together in one place, think cardiac arrest would make me depart this world earlier than I could make it to my plane.

We always say goodbye thinking we'll never meet someone again, like that last chance we have to see each other is right there and then. I think we take too lightly the power of coincidence, and since Singapore is such a small place, bumping into each other is almost an inevitability. I think I'll make this promise out to anyone who I treasure most, that the next time we're leaving each other, I won't say goodbye. I'll say, "I will see you again, soon." That's a promise, on my honour.

Your brother in scouting,
Don

Why I look like a tree

It's been some time since I felt like how I did today, that sense of clarity over why I have chosen my path as so. And of all the people to make me feel so special, you could not possibly guess who. A child, not more than 4 years of age, made me feel whole again today.

He's the son of my dad's friend, a little bundle of chaos. Running all over the place and screaming at the top of his lungs, hyperactive like any other kid his age. And then he saw me, in my No.4, with a military buzzcut, and the standard "mess with me and you'll know what's pain" look on my face. Catching him in the corner of my eye, I tried to salvage my image which had most probably seared itself into his young mind, with a smile. He took off for his mother's arms, all ready to burst into tears...

Curiously though, he didn't erupt into a pool of tears, but just kept staring at me, in the safety of his mother's arms nonetheless. And then came the torrent of questions which any toddler unleashes on his parent when he's in doubt.

'Why does that kor kor (Hokkien for brother) look like a tree?'
'He's a soldier, that's his uniform. Like your school uniform liddat, just that his have to help him hide.'
'Who he hide from? Teacher?'
'No lah, from bad men who want to hurt him, and us.'
'What does a soldier do mummy?'
'...To protect you, and mummy and daddy, and our country.'
'Why?'
'Because bad men will hurt us if he doesn't protect us.'
'Why?'
'They're bad men, they only do bad things remember?'
'Ohh, but daddy says bad men hurt people, kor kor not afraid meh?'
'I bet he is, but he loves us more than he afraid of bad men. That right Brandon?'

I give a nod, and just smile.

'Mummy, can I be a soldier when I grow up?'
'Why you want to be? Uniform very nice izzit?'
'No, because I want to show you how much I love you and daddy. I love you very much mummy.'

It's one of those picture perfect moments, the mum totally astonished by what her little kid has just said. As for me, I just smiled, which was totally spoiling my camouflage. After all, a tree doesn't have teeth does it?

Happy Independence Day, and let us all remember those who sacrifice themselves upon the altar of freedom, so that we may live to see another kid learn not only how to camouflage effectively, but also what it means to love someone.

Don

Time will tell

It's going to be another 3 weeks or so before I leave for airgrading, guess that leaves me with what mog describes as the "long goodbye". Maybe I shouldn't be so sentimental about the departure, it is only going to be a month away for me. But I can't help but feel the finality of it. And what the trip entails, like the rest of my life, just makes me feel more apprehensive about it.

I used to dream about flying in a jet, ala Top Gun and all the cool fighter jet shows of the 90s. And seeing those space shuttle launches made me even more starry eyed, wondering if I'd ever get the chance to fly and then soar to the heavens. It's those dreams that make me who I am today, a pilot trainee now drumming his fingers in anticipation of the coming test, whether I get to be a fighter pilot and maybe even more.

But like I told those interviewers at Air Force recruitment, I grew up, and now I wonder how much of that starry eyed boy I still have in me. In the years of RI and RJC, I saw how much was needed to be done on the ground, and my wings fall away. I saw the need for 'boots on the ground' in so many situations, where all people needed for some hope was the soldier who was willing to put his live on the line for others. I felt selfish, to dream of being able to fly, without giving this same hope to children who could not ensure their own life beyond their next meal. Wearing a blue beret and enforcing order in chaos seemed a right thing to me then, even now.

Which leaves me in my dilemma now, which do I hold more dear? I need to give my best, but which one demands my effort? It's a feeling one should never have to feel, being torn over what to love more. I guess only time will tell me the answer. Sooner or later. Time will tell.

Don

Leaving for a jet plane

All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go
I'm standin' here outside your door
I hate to wake you up to say goodbye

But the dawn is breakin', it's early morn
The taxi's waitin', he's blowin' his horn
Already I'm so lonesome I could die

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

I'm ...

There's so many times I've let you down
So many times I've played around
I'll tell you now, they don't mean a thing

Every place I go, I think of you
Every song I sing, I sing for you
When I come back I'll wear your wedding ring

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

Now the time has come to leave you
One more time, oh, let me kiss you
And close your eyes and I'll be on my way

Dream about the days to come
When I won't have to leave alone
About the times that I won't have to say ...

Oh, kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

And I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

But I'm leaving on a jet plane
Leaving on a jet plane
(Ah ah ah ah)
Leaving on a jet plane
Leaving on a jet plane
Leaving on a jet plane
Leaving on a jet plane
Leaving on a jet plane
Leaving on a jet plane
(Leaving) On a jet plane



And it's confirmed, I'm in the Air Force as of Friday. Flying off soon, to begin my training and hopefully be selected to stay on. It's funny, how I was always waiting for this to drop on my lap, to get out of commandos, but now, when I get it, it feels like the shit has hit the fan. I am going to miss my buddies with the red berets. I'm going to miss those 10km morning runs. I'm going to miss the field. Ok, everything about the field but the rations...

Never thought about who will send me off, it feels awkward to say goodbye. At least for me, I never was one of those who could handle farewells well...I hope it's a flight at 2am or something, save me the fuss of having to say goodbye and blow kisses off and looking back over the shoulder. Just drag the duffel bag along, board the plane and look forward to sunrise on the coast down under.

Life is rolling on faster. I hope I can catch up. Afterburners on, let's go all ahead full.

Don

Initiate rapid environmental restructuring, commandos...

Should be quite obvious I'm trying to make some new designs on this blog, but still very much a work in progress here, so bear with me. I don't have the luxury of this weekend to make the necessary changes, got to serve my nation by protecting it's "key installations".

They make it sound so nice, don't they? Key Installations Protection Force. Wow, wayang to the n-th degree. I'm most probably doing duty because someone in the camp doesn't like our singing or does not appreciate the amount of pride we have in our unit. Correction, amount of pride I have in my unit. I hardly see any of the other 'brothers-in-arms' around me feeling that swell in their throats and that tear in the eye when they see a red beret or hear the word 'commando'. It's a shame, the best combat unit and we have people who aren't inspired even to maintain minimum standards.

I love the army. Or at least I want to, though it is hardly giving me a chance to. The calibre of people I interact with, their level of faith and commitment makes me pause as to whether I am putting my hopes and dreams in the wrong place. My experiences continue to drain me, I feel stuck and plain disappointed. Lost.

Maybe that's not the word to use. A scout is never lost. Just temporarily disorientated. Here's to hoping I find my bearings soon, maybe today as I prowl the camp and keep it safe from terrorists who plan to initiate their own "rapid environmental restructuring" aka demolitions on my camp. Have many hours of soul-searching and intruder hunting to do, so I'm signing off.

Auspicium Melioris Aevi, truly.
Don

Where Heaven Lies

"Be without fear in the face of your enemies.
Be brave and upright that God may love thee.
Speak the truth always even if it leads to your death.
Safeguard the helpless and do no wrong.

That is your oath."

Just got back from watching Kingdom of Heaven, quite a movie I have to say. It is a bit draggy in some parts, and seems a bit decapitated at certain portions, but overall the package comes across largely as a success. And I guess part of the success comes from the fact that is has only a simple message to bring across, the danger of religious fervour but more importantly, where heaven lies.

It's so blindingly obvious I guess people tend to miss it nowadays. The whole movie revolves around the Christians and Muslims fighting over stones and walls in the desert, their "Kingdom of Heaven", Jerusalem. But I guess we forget, that heaven lies within us, and as pointed out in the movie, "What God desires" is but our mind and heart. Nothing depicted this endless war between religions than the scene where both armies clash in a narrow breach in the walls of Jerusalem, both sides unable to gain any ground but still losing men by the hundreds. Do we love God by hating each other? Do we find peace and solace by waging war? Do we get our own "Kingdom of Heaven", only by wracking hell on Earth?

Everyone who loves God should take the time to consider, do we need religion to tell us how to love God?

"Holiness is in right action, and courage on behalf of those who cannot defend themselves."

One of the quotes from the movie which I find thought-provoking. Perhaps if we opened ourselves more, and let in the light, we will truly find where heaven lies. Within each and everyone of us.

Don

Serenity

Take my love.
Take my land.
Take me where I cannot stand.
I don’t care, I’m still free.
You can’t take the sky from me.

Take me out
to the black.
Tell ‘em I ain’t comin’ back.
Burn the land and boil the sea.
You can’t take the sky from me.

Have no place
I can be
Since I found Serenity.
But you can’t take the sky from me.

"Ballad of Serenity" - Theme from TV series, Firefly

Ok, so this may seem like I'm promoting the movie shamelessly. I am. It's one of those witty shows with humour that requires some grey matter so you can actually catch the plot, and I hope anyone with half a functioning brain will take the time to catch Serenity when it comes out really much later in the year, and rescue a dying genre of movies, sci fi-western ( yeah you heard me right, Joss Whedon actually managed to put two different genres together ).

It's a pretty twisted sort of future that the writer creates, but I'll try and string it as best as I can. Earth depleted, we colonize many planets, some want to remain independent, but a core group decide to form the Alliance and stamp out the independents. Think American Civil War, and the Union wins again, and our main character is a Confederate ( called Indepedents in the movie ) soldier who moves on from the defeat in his own ship, the Serenity, to do odd jobs and simply stay alive. He's a rebel who has seen his cause shot to pieces, but decides to live on.

Looking at life from the losing side, I guess that's what the show manages to present. History is written by the winners, so therefore history tramples on those who lose. The Confederates were slave-owners who wanted to keep their black men and women under their chains of subjugation, and the Union freed these slaves. That's the version we are taught, but what happens if the USA was the CSA instead? I guess the Confederate states would look more kindly on the benefits of slave ownership, and the rest of the world would have agreed. Case in point, history is all about interpretation, and should be never taken as truth. History contains many facts, but they support different truths, and politicising history (hint hint China and Japan), will only lead to the one thing which history loves to do. Repeat itself.

Then there's another lesson which I derive. No matter how deep you are in shit, finding no way to climb out of a seemingly bottomless pit of lost hope, or simply wandering and trying to find purpose in life, don't give yourself a discount and find the tallest building around to jump off. Climb that tallest building, seek serenity, and you will find direction. I think I have met with several dead ends in my life, whether it was during my Sec 3 life or post A-Levels, I had moments to simply sit down and think things through quietly, either in a chalet up in Malaysia or on an army bunk somewhere in Singapore, and found myself again. The key component is serenity, that peace of mind so you can re-evaluate what has meant a lot in your life, and what will keep you breathing past that low point in your existence.

Live for something rather than die for nothing.
- George S. Patton

We all have our dreams, but let us not follow them into oblivion. If they die, then so be it, let life give us another path to follow. After all, many paths still lead to the same end. We all die, just let us find the longest, most fulfilling path to walk.

Don

The world, from 1000 feet

Two words. Sensory overload. There's no other way to describe my first jump out of an airplane flying at 1000 feet, with so many things happening at the same time, it's hard to catch everything that happened, and savour each moment to its last detail. I guess the most tense moment was when you are still in the plane, doing the final checks before going out the door. Then the command to stand in the door comes, and you know you have about 10 seconds. But guess what, my detail was already over the DZ, and as the first jumper just got to the door, he was given the green light. "Green on, GO!" With a shocked expression permanantly plastered on his face, he was shoved right off the aircraft. "GO, GO, GO..." 1 second, 1 jumper out the door, and before I knew it, out I went. "BLAM!" The slipstream hits me pushing me to face the rear, and I saw the tail of the aircraft for about a microsecond, and the canopy of the jumper before me deploys. Falling yet still moving, I felt weightless till I was suddenly jerked back by my own canopy deploying. Checked my canopy, and then did my observation of the immediate area. I guess the beauty of the world at 1000 feet didn't come through to me then, but the more I reflected upon that moment, seeing the mental picture more clearly, it dawns on me how miniscule we are in this large world. Floating around at 1000 feet, feeling no earth beneath the soles of my boots, I felt so small, insignificant. And it was only 1000 feet.

The landing was horrid, as I literally went splat all over the runway. The impact just took the wind out of me, and if not for my training, I think all I would have done was lie on that runway and wallow in my pain. PJIs always taught us to land like a bag of potatos, rolling with the fall and distributing the energy around the body. But that day, all I could think of my landing was, well, mashed potato.

And that was the beginning of my week. Rest of it was tough training after another, and today, SMU interview and 01 Campfire. Went for the interview expecting to answer questions, but never expected to answer some questions of my own in the process. My little chat with the professors allowed me to gain an insight on why I take so much punishment nowadays and still live with it. "Endurement" as my sergeant puts it, stems from an innate desire not to let anyone down. Or put simply, I have a very big problem with losing face, and will do whatever it takes, even if it kills me. Maybe it's a Chinese thing.

Talking about Chinese, it's hard to miss the patriot games China and Japan are playing now. I found out about even while I was in camp, and that just shows the level of security concerns it raises. Chaos Theory anyone? Every small random event, seemingly unrelated and no one pays attention to. Then they grow, multiply. And then they rear their ugly heads, show their razor sharp teeth, and take a big bite out of the peace we have built. No one believes this will lead to war, not the angry young men protesting on the streets nor the officials on top who sit quietly and allow the protests to grow out of hand. I wonder how long a fuse this crisis between Japan and China has. Unless definite steps are taken to not only repair relations, but also to curb brinksmanship on both sides ( like taking all their ultra-nationalists out and putting one round square between their eyes), we're looking at a conflict which will shake the very foundations of this world. It took Europe two world wars to realise the dangers of nationalism and the necessity of union, forming inter-state organisations like the EU. I hope we don't need the same reminder to chuck aside our differences and just learn to live with each other, instead of throwing missiles and troops at each other.

Poring through the rest of the week's papers in order to prepare for my interview ( which resembled coffeeshop chatter, and totally wasted my effort in digesting a week's worth of news ), I found out more about the casino debate, the Pope, Ganga and Jamuna, and a most interesting perspective on the Terri Schiavo case. The fiasco surrounding her passing arose because no one seemed to respect the will to die, going away gracefully instead of stirring up a hornet's nest. Singapore has the AMD to allow anyone the right to pull the plug on himself/herself in terminal illnesses where continued treatment would most certainly be in vain, and the person would remain in a comatose state without the ability to say "Let me go". But the author argues for the will to live, where he states that if we had the same amount of conviction in dying peacefully put into living well, life would be so much the better. Summed up, life is a terminal disease, don't waste time bothering when the end comes, direct that energy into making the black-caped fella with a scythe regret putting you 6 feet under.

I come back from my first live descent somewhat changed I guess. Maybe everyone should be given the chance to be thrown off an aircraft at 1000 feet, then they'll see the world differently. A world where people are smaller than ants, and our daily concerns even more miniscule. A world where colour or religion or ethnicity or seniority or rank or class or simple differences don't matter, because the parachute doesn't care who the hell you are, it either deploys, or it doesn't based on pure circumstance. A world where you can truly see everything, and let the horizon surround you for about 30 seconds. A world without fear of death, because you'll be too busy living each and every last second in the air.

That's the world, from 1000 feet.

Sticks in the wind

Just came back from dinner with a few friends, including a primary school friend whom I have not met for years. How time flies, and as it does, how it changes all we once knew to be cast iron reality, to something familiar yet totally different.

Once, I was idealistic, looking through rose-tinted glasses and ready to challenge the world. Once, I was driven, wanting to climb every ladder I came upon, determined to reach the top and be the best. Once, I had faith, that things would turn out right on their own in due course, and God would make sure of that.

Once, I was young. And how I've grown, matured, experienced what 19 years of life can throw at a person. Meeting up with an old friend, and seeing her cynicism at the system and life in general, I saw myself for a moment. She was so sure about getting that scholarship, sure she could score that A, that distinction, sure she would be the next success story based purely on her ability and drive. However, life has a way of taking away those things that seem to matter most to you, leaving you with what seems to be nothing. However it is only life's way of showing you something which matters more.

My friend may not have gotten those grades, that scholarship, but she has gained something more. The experience of such failure to attain her goals, only teaches one to accept and move on. With her type of drive and passion, I think she will go far in life, much farther than if she were bonded and stuck in a civil service job and led down a path which others have laid for her. She's a runaway locomotive, looking for tracks to guide her to the next stop.

Why do I see myself in her example? I have failed too and failure has shown me what matters more. Only difference being I'm already at the door, and looking at the DZ, ready to jump and knowing where to land. I may be disillusioned at times, not being able to see my objective which may be covered by clouds of self-doubt. I may be blown off course by the winds of necessity, when change will force me to alter my course. But the dream of being able to reach out and touch someone and give hope to those who feel they are forsaken, to "protect the weak, spur the faint-hearted, curb the unruly..." (If the 01 Oath of Responsibility becomes a guiding principle in our lives, the world will be a better place), will be my personal compass, that true North which will never shift, and which will put me on the path to my DZ.

"Sticks in the wind" is a signal given to airborne troops to jump, taking that leap into the wild blue, stepping off the only solid ground, the only reality we have known, putting all we have to gamble that the chute will open, that the wind wouldn't be too strong, that cloud cover won't be too heavy on that day, that the DZ is still within range. Taking that step out the plane, putting all we have on the line for that one chance to reach our goal, may seem too much to lose. But hey, how can one ever hope to fly without being prepared to take a fall first?

Give me the green light, I won't freeze at the door.

Don

Charlie Mike

Charlie Mike, or CM, or in military lingo, Carry on Mission. It means that an objective has not been met, but that the mission has to carry on anyway. Two weeks passed again, but what an eventful two weeks it has been. No longer is the A level results looming over my head, and the prospect of not passing out a threat hanging over me. I got my results, and I'm now a private.

But, there's a reason that I'm doing a Charlie Mike. Results weren't great, B, B, C, C and a disappointing B4 for GP. Definitely takes scholarships out of my grasp, and at first when receiving the results, that overwhelming sense of disappointment in not meeting expectations hit me. That same night, after receiving my results, I had to book in back to camp after again, failing on that same morning my Standard Obstacle Course by a timing of 10:48, 18 seconds too late, despite the best run of my life at the end. 4 March 2005, will remain as the lowest point in my life for quite some time.

Booking in at 1930, Sergeant gave me a quizzical look. The time to book in was 2100, I was way too early and recruits NEVER book in so early. But when he found out it was due to results, all he gave was an understanding look on his face, and these three words of wisdom. Life goes on. I got into an empty bunk, dumped my stuff one corner, got on my bed and stared at the whirring fan right above me.

Life never stood still until that moment. My mind just kept flashing back to the moment I picked up that result slip, and staring at it blankly. The pain of receiving the dismal results repeated itself, over and over again, each time piercing harder into me. My thoughts seemed so fixated on that moment, that it stopped time itself. I was so deep in depression if anyone read my diary entry on that day, they would probably think I was already doing my airborne course, without a parachute. I went as far as writing a last letter, the type which family and friends receive posthumously. Then, the whirring of the fans caught my eye. They kept moving, were moving all the time, and will continue to move. In a half-depressed. mostly maniacal mood, my interpretation of the fans moving was this.

Life goes on.

Despite what happens, when the shit hits the fan or when you're in a bed of roses, time still continues. And if there's one thing I picked up in 9 weeks of being a commando trainee, it's that when you feel drained or stumble and fall, you pick yourself up and move on. Every moment you may feel like you're dying, or that you cannot continue anymore, you remind yourself of one thing. You're not dead yet, and while you're still alive and can will yourself to stand on your own two feet, you keep moving until those legs give in, not when your mind wants to give up.

I accept defeat, but not surrender. It's in my character now, and soon I hope I can imprint that on my genetic code as well. The results may suck a whole lot, but it's over and I can't afford to sit down and moan about it. Maybe it's a blessing in disguise, allowing me to focus more on my mission in life, rather than trying to climb the ladder. My sights are now set on signing on, and doing well enough to qualify me for an overseas mission, and for this, I accept nothing but success.

Passing out today, I have moved out of a phase in life. No longer am I watching the front and waiting. No longer sitting in a foxhole, waiting. I'm out, charging into the future, and giving it the best run i can. It's all, and nothing not accepted.

In "The Last Samurai", just before they move in for a suicidal frontal charge, a "Pickett Charge" against a superior force, someone asked "Do you believe a man can change his destiny?"

The reply? "I believe a man does what he can, until his destiny is revealed." Life is just like that, a charge into an end, which we do not see yet. But it's not about the end that matters. It's the journey, and I'm walking it the way I feel is best. I may be breathing hard, feeling the weight on my shoulders, and the sweat trickling down my face. I may stumble, may even fall. But I'm determined to do one thing. Charlie Mike.

Don

Watch Your Front

It's been a long two weeks, spending a majority of it in the field. I'm totally burned out now, just came home from a gathering of my detachment. Few of us only, the others being totally off the bola and really not giving a shit about meeting up. "We see each other 7 days a week anyway." being the common line. Oh, and so is "My OC is a liar", "insert any imaginable line of complaint about life in the field". I don't get it, is kao bei so enjoyable? Must we be totally hypocritical and complain about everything under the sun, wait, everything including the sun? Everyone complains about the hot weather, then drinks up more then 12 litres of water everyday and pisses it all away all over the damn forest like water was free and easily available, forgetting that someone always had to fill all 100 jerry cans a few times a day. Everyone gets heat rash or abrasion, but don't give a damn about powdering down before sleeping, choosing to just plop down and go off to dreamland. Everyone gets cuts and bruises, but all act like babies and run to the medic expecting a quick fix-me-up all the time. Well guess what mother sons, you're in the army now. FORGET about living a comfortable, cushy life. YOU'RE a recruit, life is SUPPOSED to be tough. FIELD CAMP IS NOT A WALK IN THE PARK, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO EAT SOME SHIT, AND SWALLOW WITHOUT ASKING WHY.

I came into army expecting to come out a better person, I don't know what the rest of the company expected, but it seems more and more like they were expecting to be pampered. "3G army, where we get the gain without the pain." I think someone forgot what it meant to be a soldier. We sing the songs, to defend our land and our people with our lives, but don't mean it. They forget what it means to be an army, what it means to fight for what you stand for. Complacency has set in, and the "disease in the SAF" which my senior officers love to repeat is slowly eating away at the "thinking soldier", who thinks more of his own personal welfare and safety then the security of our nation, who wants to chao keng, run away, escape.

Retreat.

I fear what happens when the button is pressed, when push comes to shove, and Singapore has to stare an enemy in the eye. How many will hold the line? I know the regulars would, they understand the importance of what they have to do. But what about those whom we need to count on most, the man on the street? When that mobilization notice flashes, will he answer? From what I see, the picture ain't pretty. I hope that older generations, those who understand the value of our defensive force, do their part, because it seems the younger generation seem only interested in reaping without sowing.

I want to do my part in the army, but now that all depends on what comes out on 7th March, the release of my A level results. I'm sure of my role in the army, in wanting to correct the 'disease' any way I can, and also to protect all that I love and cherish. The senior officers in our company, some of them having spent more than 20 years in the army, pass on their experience but more importantly, their fervour in maintaining Singapore the way they got it when they were recruits. A place of opportunity, safe and secure, and always ready to adapt to the next coming age.

I stand at the crossroads now, one week before A levels, two weeks before passing out, the future of my life to be revealed in the time ahead. In two weeks, I will know where to go. But for now, I can only do one thing. Be ready, and watch my front.

Don

Into the darkness

Another short break before heading in again, this time for a longer haul. Booking in to field camp tonight, going over for a little adventure on another island. Not sure what to expect out in the field, but if it's anything close to scouting, then I think I'm in for a ride.

It seems to have become an endless cycle, this ritual of booking in and out. I don't know if it's fatigue or just plain boredom, but I'm starting to get the numbness, feeling an emotional desert when I book in and out. There doesn't seem to be anything to look forward to whether in or out of camp, just the same old cycle. I hope something comes along to break up the routine, it's starting to get to me, and paying the Institute of Mental Health a visit isn't exactly something I want on my calender.

Range and the idea of live rounds does give a kick, albeit a small one. I know all about the shitty feeling one gets when you stay too long out in the field, and that is going to be a major obstacle for everyone to overcome once we're out there. Range and grenades only serve as a temporary distraction, there's got to be more to keep one sane out there. Maybe the stars.

I forget, when was the last time I just looked up and appreciated the night sky. Seems like forever, but I vaguely recall looking up one night in camp, when all was dark and quiet, and the stars spanned the entire night sky. I had a dream, once so long ago, just to reach out and touch the stars. That childhood desire to reach to the heavens, be an astronaut, explore new worlds, wear cool-looking EVA suits and make Darth-Vader breathing noises. That dream faded, as did childhood and those younger times. Like I said to the Air Force interviewer who asked me what happened to my childhood dream to fly. "I'm no longer a child." But growing up, have I started to dream bigger dreams, or let reality shape those dreams smaller?

That final frontier, can we hope to explore it? In a world so troubled by strife and suffering, where even the human capacity for compassion and empathy seems limited, is the human desire to explore the unknown a valid one? A necessary one?

"Mankind is led into the darkness beyond our world by the inspiration of discovery, and the longing to understand"
-President Bush, Address to the nation on the loss of Space Shuttle Columbia

I dream the old dream.

From Zero to Hero

A hero. What does it take to become one? Doing the courageous thing? Daring to live your dream? Or the classic Black Hawk Down definition, "Nobody asks to be a hero. It just turns out that way." Like the guy in the picture, a lieutenant who flew into the hornet's nest, saw that some troops on the ground needed his help, and went in to knock out a couple of Japanese Zeroes. He flew to the rescue, twice, each time putting his life on the line, so that some other person could get away with his.

I'm seeing my inspiration in my own sergeant. He is truly the professional soldier, taking his job seriously and our training even more seriously. He's been to Iraq as part of Singapore's contribution to the reconstruction effort there. He has pride in his work, and takes the time and effort he deems necessary to get stuff done, right. Too bad we only get him for the first 3 months, and I'm probably shipping out anyway to be like Lieutenant Hanson.

I wonder if I'm truly ready to start the next phase of my life, ending years of study to exchange for another life, to be a pilot or a professional soldier. I'm sure about signing on, much to my parent's discomfort, because I believe in the mission of the SAF as not only to protect Singapore, but also as an extension of its diplomatic arm. Send me anywhere I need to be to make a difference, I don't want to be cooped in an office cubicle, like my sergeant likes to put it. I guess it's just a bit overwhelming to decide the rest of your life on a single form, signing off 12 years of my life to the armed forces. But it's been done by so many before me, and if I heard correctly, by too many these few years. Hope I get my chance to fly the Rafale / Eurofighter / Apache, top of the line. I don't mind being a high class taxi driver or lorry driver, but given a chance, I rather be thrown in a fighter and just set loose.

Heard the State of the Union a few mornings back, when the fever bug caught me and didn't let go. The ending of the speech caught me, political theatrics and all, "Each age is a dream that is dying, or one that is coming to birth. And we live in the country where the biggest dreams are born. The abolition of slavery was only a dream - until it was fulfilled. The liberation of Europe from fascism was only a dream - until it was achieved. The fall of imperial communism was only a dream - until, one day, it was accomplished. Our generation has dreams of its own, and we also go forward with confidence." I don't see my life as an age which is passing, I'm not that important, but what Bush has to say seems to have parallels to each person's life. One stage of life passes, no more schooling, but as it dies, another stage takes over, new dreams and aspirations. Will I grow out of this period, when the dream of making a difference dies out, replaced by other priorities like finding love or settling down, or will this dream grow on me?

I'm going to live my dream, but hey, it's not for me to decide where it takes me. It just turns out that way.

Don

On the ball

It's been two weeks since I enlisted, and I'm back for the weekend. Time passes quickly inside, the routine keeps one going, at least some form of predictability in life. Training is tough, but manageable still. I think they'll up the tempo and severity now, since the adjustment period is over, and they get free rein to do anything they wish now. I want to get a book before I go in, but have no idea what to get. There usually is enough free time for one to read, during the night when I have no calls to make. All those in my detachment seem to be attached, leaving me to quietly while away my time between 2130 and 2200. I don't see it as a curse, some quiet reflection time is usually good, and getting ready for the next day usually fills this period which I have at night. But I guess it's just envy on my part, seeing all the other guys having someone they can talk to, and have someone listen to them.

Just managed to pick up bits of pieces of news while I'm out. Taupok, Meulaboh, Presidential Inaugaration, all these things have happened as I stayed in the time capsule that is my base. The world speeds by while I do crunches and pull ups (or attempt to). Subscribed to Time magazine, hope that can keep me up to date from week to week. The SAF really is doing a good job in Aceh, seeing from the picture above how they mix with the locals. The peacetime SAF really is showing itself to be worthy of 6% of Singapore's GDP. I wonder if I'll get my chance to do some work like that as well. As a recruit, I guess my job now is just to get my basics right, learn as much as possible, and prepare to deploy when I'm ready.

Watched Hotel Rwanda on Friday, can't say it was really that moving, I guess because I read up on all the statistics and the news coverage, and the fact that the film was sanitised, made it less impactful. The scouts I watched with seemed surprised, like they never heard of the incident. Maybe when we were in primary school, such things never stuck in our minds. I faintly recall the "Rwandan Massacre" when I was in Primary 2 or 3, and if not for my history lessons on the failure of the UN, I probably would be as ignorant as others. Like the reporter said in the show, "People are going to watch this genocide on their TVs over dinner, they're going to say 'Oh my god, those poor people'. Then they're going to continue eating their dinner."

It really seems so true, that the colour of our skin really matters. The only reason why the Western world even bothers with aiding in the tsunami is because white people in Phuket and Sri Lanka were involved. I don't recall the same amount of effort being spared to help those in the Iran Bam earthquake last year, or the Sudan crisis. I don't know how long it will take to realise that despite the colour of our skin, or the choice of our faiths, we are all still human. Maybe the next Ice Age.

I guess I'll have to try my best, sort the world out one person at a time. That's how miracles start, one small step at a time, and with determination to carry the task through, staying on the ball and sticking with it all the way, we'll make it. Like my former RJ principal once said, "The impossible we do now. Miracles, take a little longer."

Don

Under Section 11 of the Enlistment Act...

I enlist tomorrow morning, and I guess this is a goodbye. As my parents put it, a goodbye to the boy that was Brandon, who will now change. For better or worse, that we will have to see, but I guess it's something that we have to go through. Change, the only constant. I started this blog with that in mind, I hope I can start army life and like it just as much as I always think I will.

It's something I always look forward to, a new beginning, away from all the schooling and the people I know since Secondary 1. That second chance to start anew, I'm getting tomorrow. I hope I make an impression, and hope that all my dreams in army can be pushed through with sheer effort on my part. Officer, Sword of Honour, and being on an international mission. I can only cross my fingers that the commandos get sent over to Meluaboh, I do want to get my hands dirty and actually do something to help others. Let's hope the red berets are truly the pride of the army, and get some time overseas helping others, and not let the tan berets get all the attention all the time.

To a new beginning, and a brighter time ahead.

Cheers,
Don

They ask me why

Private First Class Edward J. Moskala, charged 60 meters to enemy machine-gun emplacements to destroy them with grenades. Covered the withdrawal of his squad, for three hours. Found that one of his squadmates was left behind, without hesitation charged back to get him. Protected the wounded while help was sought, found another man left behind, went charging into enemy fire to get his buddy back from the jaws of death, before being mortally wounded. Awarded Medal of Honor, the highest military decoration in the U.S. Armed Forces.

This happens ever so often, and World War Two may have been 60 years ago, but courage like this still lives on. Why do men take such risks to themselves, for others? Ask our Hollywood composite character Hoot in Black Hawk Down, he'll give the classic response a Delta guy, any army dude, would give. "They won't understand, that it's not the war, it's about the man next to you. That's all, nothing else matters."

Military types think only they have this type of bond, but I guess the current disaster shows otherwise. The ourpouring of goodwill is unprecedented, you cannot imagine how much aid is being poured into the affected regions. I was working as a volunteer at SPH, and the amount of logistics we are sending over is phenomenal, there is no wonder why a bottleneck occurs, I cannot imagine any airport, cow herds running over the runway or not, will be able to cope with all the materiel. And aid money is estimated at 2 billion dollars, well over a hundred times worth the initial amount pledged. Some may call this guilt at work, we are alive and well but they aren't so let's pour in money to assauge our guilt. I call it basic compassion. We feel for those who may be thousands of miles away, in a totally different life, because we are all human. Religion, culture, politics, take a back seat.

And look who are on the ground first, providing the humanitarian assistance. Soldiers, the military. U.S. , Singapore, Indonesia, Australia, Sri Lanka, India, Thailand, all have military personnel on the ground first to do the heavy lifting. The next time some pacifist goes rioting, asking for world peace and demanding an end to starvation and suffering, let him see who first goes in to give the helping hand. The next time some idiot at the U.N. complains how much the U.S. spends on the military instead of humanitarian aid, he should be denied space on the aircraft carrier sailing on a beeline to the devastated region. Maybe people should be reminded, that those with the greatest power to take lives, also have the strongest urge to give life back. These are the guys who will not only do it for their brothers-in-arms, but also anyone in particular. That's what they exist for, to defend lives and livelihood, and I swear the next idiot who comes up and complains about the military being useless/unworthy/wasteful/no longer valid, will never hear the end of me. No other organisation can muster the strength and discipline needed to truly provide the aid necessary for the victims. Who will do the airlifts, clear the roads, mop up the area, bury the dead, set up the refugee camps, and organise all the aid? Not the Red Cross which does not have such equipment (besides if they do, they don't have the expertise), or some church or mosque which can send all the money and a token number of people but not its congregation who nevertheless can only go there and pray for aid since they have no organisation whatsoever to handle the humanitarian work, or some aid organisation or the U.N. .

Why the military? Precisely because they don't ask why, they do the necessary without the questions. Like PFC Moskala, only the military can see if something needs to be done, and do it, well and without any bureaucratic nonsense or politicking. Or at least without the notion or perception of it, much better than politicians or bureaucrats who take forever to decide what needs to be done, and still not do it. Soldiers do it, because that's what they signed up for, to help defend freedom, life, livelihood. Defend something, that's what they work towards. Civil strife, genocide, terrorist camps, nuclear weapons proliferation, unrest, insurgency, natural disaster, man-made disaster? Send in the marines.

The weapons of war are the greatest tools for peace. Paradoxical? Open your eyes, and take a new look at that Chinook, LST, CVBG, C-130 Hercules, that man in camouflage uniform. He will make the difference, because he's trained to. You can ask him why he does it, but don't expect an answer. He's just there to do the necessary.

Don

An article on the Straits Times

Read this on the Straits Times today, an essay by Asad Latif, titled "Amid tsunami hell, a glimpse of heaven"

"THE words have all but become a signature line: Hell is other people.

Spoken by a character in No Exit, a play by French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre, the line captures the claustrophobia and hopelessness of a banal world where people loathe one another from the shallow depths of their fickle being and false words seduce communication.

There is more to hellishness, of course.

Hellish characters have peopled history and they lurk in the dark alleys of the present.

From Nazis, fascists and perpetrators of genocide, to those who profit from slave labour, to intellectuals who rationalise injustice or are silent about it, hell is these people.

Hell is ordinary people as well: corrupt bureaucrats, black marketeers who profit from food scarcity, the denizens of Third World high-rises who sleep peacefully while, in the slums below, children cry out in malarial delirium.

Hell is anybody who glides through life, gracefully immune to the blighted reality of millions of other lives.

But such is the destiny of man that if hell is other people, so is heaven.

Unfortunately, it sometimes takes a calamity to prove this truth.

The year 2004 ended with a resounding reminder of the truth.

Like the Greek Furies, the cataclysmic tsunami fell upon its victims with the pagan force of nature gone berserk.

Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, residents, foreigners, animals, trees, homes, shops, boats, cars - whatever stood in the way of the maddened waves was snatched up and swept along with manic abandon.

Everyone and everything was dispensable. What mattered was how angry the waves were, how far inland they invaded, how long they battered human habitation before retiring, clawing screaming innocents away from life and land.

The tsunami has left in its wake an epic trail of death and destruction.

The dead are gone. It falls on the living to wail, powerless to give even decent burials to family and friends who were torn out of their lives and, sometimes, their very hands.

Mankind stands reminded: Nature is more powerful than him. Nature is supreme. Nature's hidden moods determine the Darwinian rituals of life and death.

But mankind refuses to be humbled, to bow to tyrant nature's decree and give up on itself.

Even though battered by an earthquake that may have permanently accelerated the Earth's rotation and altered the global map, humans have reached out to one another in the very midst of their collective punishment.

Heaven is such people.

Stories abound about them.

People who lost almost everything themselves offered clothes to protect the modesty of a couple whose clothes were ripped off by the ferocity of nature.

There have been reports of looting, pillaging and theft, of course. It does not take long after the waters have subsided for human nature to sink to its lowest common denominator.

But far more numerous have been uplifting stories of human solidarity.

My colleague Ben Nadarajan reports from Sri Lanka about the head monk of a Buddhist temple on a hill. The monk had looked with disdain at the people pandering to the foreigners who lazed on the beach, played in the water, and gathered around the seafood and the nightlife.

But since the calamity struck, the monk has turned host to about 1,000 of the same people, whether tourists or locals.

The stricken have found a place to stay at three temples.

Truly have houses of worship fulfilled their human mandate as well.

Over in Iran, where thousands were killed by an earthquake in Bam a year ago, an Associated Press report mentions struggling survivors thinking of the victims in this part of Asia.

'Some school kids came to me and asked how they could help people in South-east Asia,' a primary school teacher said.

Across the world, including in Singapore, the response to appeals for aid has been overwhelming.

Looking at the outpouring of human solidarity, it is impossible not to think that heaven is other people.

Heaven is other people working for the community, compassion and comradeship. These are the higher possibilities of the human condition.

People are working for them.

For me, the tsunami has brought about a rather strange conversion.

Coarsened by the hellish suffering that has become commonplace around a six billion-strong globe, I have wondered for some time whether there are not too many humans around for their own good.

Famine, pestilence, war, civil war, religious strife, inhumanity to the old, the infirm, children: these multiplying attacks on humanity are fuelled, after all, by the sheer numbers of people who are willing to kill, or are helpless to fight and are therefore ready to die.

Perhaps a world of three billion would have fewer monsters and victims, I thought. The scale of human iniquity might go down even if the propensity towards violence did not, I thought.

Then came the tsunami - and the heartbreaking images.

And this old, calloused heart of mine stirred. I saw each death for what it was - one too many.

The vile idea that there are too many humans vanished.

I looked more carefully for signs of life in the murderous epic. I found them in stories of humans holding hands and facing the ravages of chance.

I realised: Hell might be other people, but so is heaven.

And heaven is more powerful than hell."

Maybe there is hope for the human race after all. Score one for the humanist good guys.

Don. PS, Happy new year, may pure, simple humanity take the wheel this year and let compassion flow forth.