I picked Joey up early in the morning of the 20th. SISPEC was waiting for us, and we sat in the care having idle conversations. It was a reflection on whatever that was on our minds for the past few days - we were afraid, unsure, and unwilling. It has become a default answer whenever someone asks what are our aims in SISPEC - "I'll try my best." The truth behind those words, though, were something less optimistic.
We came in just on time thanks to and event along Pasir Laba Highway. I think it was the "Biggest Jam in The World" competition. We bumped into Jayden and then waited to check our postings. Justin had already left earlier on and was posted to Delta Coy. Joey went over to Hotel, Jayden to Charlie and I went over to Bravo Company.
A lot has been mentioned online about Bravo Company, and I've heard gossips about the company. Well, after spending a week with them, I can honestly say that Bravo company isn't what others have made out to be. Just a quick glance across the parade square at Charlie and we breathe a sigh of relief that were weren't there.
I came into to SISPEC in a very unstable condition, mentally. There were a lot of things on my mind. I was homesick, or rather, I missed Yankee Company. A lot. And I cannot deny the many times I've almost teared as I sat in my bunk or on the parade square thinking of Yankee Company. Right now, we were exposed to a more realistic taste to what Army training was like. It didn't help when I realised I was the only Yankee Platoon 1 soldier in the entire company. A quick look at Jayden and I saw six other Yankee Platoon 1 guys with him. Loneliness crept in quickly.
I started the first day with a status from a specialist (Attend B, light duties) and it ends on the 3rd of the next month. I thought that's good - maybe I could start SISPEC slowly.
Training wasn't tough. At least, it wasn't that they told you to do a hundred more sets. It was more of having different training sessions one after the other. We were given a lot of talks and lectures on a variety of subjects and distrubuted materials to read up on. I find them very interesting. Every night I would spend a lot of time in the dark after lights out to read the materials.
Being on status meant sitting around doing the usual menial work and sitting in one place either day-dreaming or having empty conversations with other status-es. Soon enough, I started having a lot of thoughts in my mind. It didn't help and I became mentally worn out as the days went by.
I think it's been made known by other of my consideration of getting OOC (out of course) from SISPEC primarily because of a medical condition. It's sad when I think about it. Back in Yankee I always liked getting down and dirty and donning on my SBO attire complete with my trademark knee and elbow pads. I took training seriously and had the ambitious goal to enter OCS.
But then, here I lay, on the cold hard floor with water pipes leaking over my head, watching my company training on the parade square. It's demoralizing when you have this major urge to stand up and fight but reality sets in and you find that your body doesn't allow it to happen. It hurts more when all your life you've looked forward to being a proper foot soldier.
Loneliness drove me to a slight depression and I found myself walking around aimlessly on the ground floor of the company just reading bits and pieces of paper on the walls. There was Charlie with the biggest number of Yankees and every one else in other companies had someone they knew in their platoon. Of course, you could argue that I should go ahead and make new friends. I have my personal reasons and opinions, and if I were to say more about it, I could be chased after by the authorities for being too honest.
I finally met the Yankee guys from Charlie in the cookhouse. My eyes lit up and I finally was able to speak. The meeting didn't last long and I had to leave. I remember feeling so motivated to carry on. Maybe it wasn't going to be so bad after all.
It didn't really happen, and I was sent over to another cookhouse because of "administrative matters". It was good in a way, I could meet up with more Yankee people at the other cookhouse. I met up with Justin, Kyle, Derricks, Faizal, so and so forth. I couldn't be much happier.
Apparently, though, that wasn't the case. I was bugged out of my mind of something and it didn't go away. I ended up in a worse state that I began with. I wanted to speak to the commanders but there simply was no time. There was no one to turn to to speak about my problem - I'm on the road to OOC-ing and down PES-ing but I still wanted to fight and train.
I weighed every single pros and cons of staying in and OOC-ing. I wanted to get into Combat Photography. But I still wanted to go out-field. I still wanted to be SAW Gunner. I still had MDC on my mind. I still thought about Justin in Delta fighting for his place in OCS. I thought about Nicholas training in SAFTI. I thought about Sgt. Lyndon's little gift for us the day before POP - an IPPT Gold badge. I dream of the day I can sew that badge onto my uniform. I was tied between fulfilling pacts, promises and hopes, and doing something meaningful for my future.
I remember it was Thursday night, the lowest point I've ever been. I sent Sgt. Lyndon an SMS that read, "Could you take us back to Yankee?"
After that was a chain of SMS-es between us. Sgt. Lyndon did what he always did for us; acting as a leader. He told me to move on. Things like this happen, and that's just the way it is. Of course, I knew that, but having it being told by someone else hit me hard in the head. Maybe...
Justin then called and we had quite a conversation regarding the other guys. It was just the way it was - everyone was unmotivated and thinking of getting out. We missed each other. We missed Rocky Hill.
Justin and I then had a more personal conversation and the final tone was a more status-quo-esque "we do what we have to do and we can't do anything about it".
Then, I was pleasantly suprised when I received another call. It was from Nicholas. I wondered how he was doing in OCS and no one has heard from him since. I picked the phone, gladly.
The happiness didn't last long. Within the first few words, I was listening to the tearful uncontrollable sobs of a dear friend. Nicholas was breaking down right there and then. I asked what went wrong... was it the punishments?
No, he said, it was the stress level. I listened in as he cried over how lonely he was there, just across the road. It came to the point he was begging for Justin and me to cross over to OCS.
"Nick, I can't do that. You'll have to hang on for another two months.". A lump formed at the back of my throat as I completed that sentence. Two months. Two months!
Nick then said, "No, I want you guys to cross over NOW!"
Was this real? Did my friend here just lose his mind and sense of reality? My mind flashed back to the days we were in BMT. The little playful things we did and the things we talked about.
I tried to calm him down. Wasn't this what you wanted? You always told me you wanted to get into OCS. Didn't you tell me that, Nick? You got what you wanted, stay in it.
It felt like I was listening to him and he was in hell and wanted to get out. I couldn't help him. No one could help him. I couldn't even bear to tell him that I was on status for the whole week. I couldn't even bear to tell him what the others have been thinking. I said, "Just hang in there. Before you know it Justin will be there with you."
At the back of my head, I knew chances were slim for anyone of us to cross over. That was the harsh reality. Nick is pretty much on his own now, and all we could do was support him over a chain of SMS-es.
After that conversation, I couldn't sleep at night. I was thinking and thinking. Choices. I repeated that word many times over the next day. Choices. Should I carry on with BSLC, just to fulfill a pact Nick, Justin and I made? The risk being hurting my body more. Or should I think about my career? Even so, what are the chances of being put into Combat Photography?
The next day, I told my PC, "I want to continue with BSLC. I want to go to OCS."
His subtle reaction pretty much spelt it all. Chances were small.
Choices.
We came in just on time thanks to and event along Pasir Laba Highway. I think it was the "Biggest Jam in The World" competition. We bumped into Jayden and then waited to check our postings. Justin had already left earlier on and was posted to Delta Coy. Joey went over to Hotel, Jayden to Charlie and I went over to Bravo Company.
A lot has been mentioned online about Bravo Company, and I've heard gossips about the company. Well, after spending a week with them, I can honestly say that Bravo company isn't what others have made out to be. Just a quick glance across the parade square at Charlie and we breathe a sigh of relief that were weren't there.
I came into to SISPEC in a very unstable condition, mentally. There were a lot of things on my mind. I was homesick, or rather, I missed Yankee Company. A lot. And I cannot deny the many times I've almost teared as I sat in my bunk or on the parade square thinking of Yankee Company. Right now, we were exposed to a more realistic taste to what Army training was like. It didn't help when I realised I was the only Yankee Platoon 1 soldier in the entire company. A quick look at Jayden and I saw six other Yankee Platoon 1 guys with him. Loneliness crept in quickly.
I started the first day with a status from a specialist (Attend B, light duties) and it ends on the 3rd of the next month. I thought that's good - maybe I could start SISPEC slowly.
Training wasn't tough. At least, it wasn't that they told you to do a hundred more sets. It was more of having different training sessions one after the other. We were given a lot of talks and lectures on a variety of subjects and distrubuted materials to read up on. I find them very interesting. Every night I would spend a lot of time in the dark after lights out to read the materials.
Being on status meant sitting around doing the usual menial work and sitting in one place either day-dreaming or having empty conversations with other status-es. Soon enough, I started having a lot of thoughts in my mind. It didn't help and I became mentally worn out as the days went by.
I think it's been made known by other of my consideration of getting OOC (out of course) from SISPEC primarily because of a medical condition. It's sad when I think about it. Back in Yankee I always liked getting down and dirty and donning on my SBO attire complete with my trademark knee and elbow pads. I took training seriously and had the ambitious goal to enter OCS.
But then, here I lay, on the cold hard floor with water pipes leaking over my head, watching my company training on the parade square. It's demoralizing when you have this major urge to stand up and fight but reality sets in and you find that your body doesn't allow it to happen. It hurts more when all your life you've looked forward to being a proper foot soldier.
Loneliness drove me to a slight depression and I found myself walking around aimlessly on the ground floor of the company just reading bits and pieces of paper on the walls. There was Charlie with the biggest number of Yankees and every one else in other companies had someone they knew in their platoon. Of course, you could argue that I should go ahead and make new friends. I have my personal reasons and opinions, and if I were to say more about it, I could be chased after by the authorities for being too honest.
I finally met the Yankee guys from Charlie in the cookhouse. My eyes lit up and I finally was able to speak. The meeting didn't last long and I had to leave. I remember feeling so motivated to carry on. Maybe it wasn't going to be so bad after all.
It didn't really happen, and I was sent over to another cookhouse because of "administrative matters". It was good in a way, I could meet up with more Yankee people at the other cookhouse. I met up with Justin, Kyle, Derricks, Faizal, so and so forth. I couldn't be much happier.
Apparently, though, that wasn't the case. I was bugged out of my mind of something and it didn't go away. I ended up in a worse state that I began with. I wanted to speak to the commanders but there simply was no time. There was no one to turn to to speak about my problem - I'm on the road to OOC-ing and down PES-ing but I still wanted to fight and train.
I weighed every single pros and cons of staying in and OOC-ing. I wanted to get into Combat Photography. But I still wanted to go out-field. I still wanted to be SAW Gunner. I still had MDC on my mind. I still thought about Justin in Delta fighting for his place in OCS. I thought about Nicholas training in SAFTI. I thought about Sgt. Lyndon's little gift for us the day before POP - an IPPT Gold badge. I dream of the day I can sew that badge onto my uniform. I was tied between fulfilling pacts, promises and hopes, and doing something meaningful for my future.
I remember it was Thursday night, the lowest point I've ever been. I sent Sgt. Lyndon an SMS that read, "Could you take us back to Yankee?"
After that was a chain of SMS-es between us. Sgt. Lyndon did what he always did for us; acting as a leader. He told me to move on. Things like this happen, and that's just the way it is. Of course, I knew that, but having it being told by someone else hit me hard in the head. Maybe...
Justin then called and we had quite a conversation regarding the other guys. It was just the way it was - everyone was unmotivated and thinking of getting out. We missed each other. We missed Rocky Hill.
Justin and I then had a more personal conversation and the final tone was a more status-quo-esque "we do what we have to do and we can't do anything about it".
Then, I was pleasantly suprised when I received another call. It was from Nicholas. I wondered how he was doing in OCS and no one has heard from him since. I picked the phone, gladly.
The happiness didn't last long. Within the first few words, I was listening to the tearful uncontrollable sobs of a dear friend. Nicholas was breaking down right there and then. I asked what went wrong... was it the punishments?
No, he said, it was the stress level. I listened in as he cried over how lonely he was there, just across the road. It came to the point he was begging for Justin and me to cross over to OCS.
"Nick, I can't do that. You'll have to hang on for another two months.". A lump formed at the back of my throat as I completed that sentence. Two months. Two months!
Nick then said, "No, I want you guys to cross over NOW!"
Was this real? Did my friend here just lose his mind and sense of reality? My mind flashed back to the days we were in BMT. The little playful things we did and the things we talked about.
I tried to calm him down. Wasn't this what you wanted? You always told me you wanted to get into OCS. Didn't you tell me that, Nick? You got what you wanted, stay in it.
It felt like I was listening to him and he was in hell and wanted to get out. I couldn't help him. No one could help him. I couldn't even bear to tell him that I was on status for the whole week. I couldn't even bear to tell him what the others have been thinking. I said, "Just hang in there. Before you know it Justin will be there with you."
At the back of my head, I knew chances were slim for anyone of us to cross over. That was the harsh reality. Nick is pretty much on his own now, and all we could do was support him over a chain of SMS-es.
After that conversation, I couldn't sleep at night. I was thinking and thinking. Choices. I repeated that word many times over the next day. Choices. Should I carry on with BSLC, just to fulfill a pact Nick, Justin and I made? The risk being hurting my body more. Or should I think about my career? Even so, what are the chances of being put into Combat Photography?
The next day, I told my PC, "I want to continue with BSLC. I want to go to OCS."
His subtle reaction pretty much spelt it all. Chances were small.
Choices.
Posted by
Audi
Labels:
Filmmaking
,
Henry
,
Jimmy Low
,
My Life
,
Sincere coffessions
,
Things to come....
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