Week 10, Day 7 - On BMT
I used to dread BMT.
Before coming to Tekong, already slapped and branded with a 4-weeks extra PTP to look forward to, my mind conjured nightmarish grotesques that were the trainings to be, which then were fueled further by the rumours fed to me by predecessors who had their BMT three, twelve, twenty four or evern two hundred and forty months ago.
They are not true. Neither are they false. The truth is that the mind works in miraculous ways, and more so in BMT - that is, controverting the popular belief that mind does not work in BMT to begin with. On the surface, all is madness, cynicism and torture. Yet there is a silver lining in every cloud. Think, and everything we do is meaningful and backed with rationality. The sergeants shout at us - yes but only because we refuse to listen and learn. Training is tough and some recruits get injured, lose weight and/or lose their mind from stress - whyfor should we call ourselves trained soldiers, if not for the training? Cookhouse food is unfit for human consumption? Some restaurants and certain girlfriends could do worse.
That is not to say I enjoyed BMT. It would be too far-fetched, delusional and more than a little deranged. Spending five and a half days weekly in camp takes its toll on relationships. Friends have been neglected, contacts and projects fallen apart because of a lack of focus, and all but the most steadfast newspaper readers amongst us inevitably see none of the changes taking place around the world or even locally. I quote the SAF - "It is not what you leave behind, but what you gain in the days ahead." Reconsider this statement, and let us be reminded that some of us had lives.
Colourful lives, too, of every hue and shade, and all threaded, wove or bashed forcefully into place at BMT. Never before will I have the chance to rub shoulders with such a motley mix of characters from all walks of life. Polytechnic dropouts, O Level graduates, A Level graduates, Polytechnic graduates and even the odd few degree holders return from overseas to serve their due are recruits. "Attached", "single", "never dated before", "it's complicated" and even "married" are recruits. BMT was a menagerie of these species within our specie ; an exhibition of peoples I have never met before and might never meet again.
For some of us, BMT will never end. We will sit and drink and dance together till we're old and grey, telling and retelling the "torture" that was BMT, all the while carrying a telltale smile that can only be wistful.
Before coming to Tekong, already slapped and branded with a 4-weeks extra PTP to look forward to, my mind conjured nightmarish grotesques that were the trainings to be, which then were fueled further by the rumours fed to me by predecessors who had their BMT three, twelve, twenty four or evern two hundred and forty months ago.
They are not true. Neither are they false. The truth is that the mind works in miraculous ways, and more so in BMT - that is, controverting the popular belief that mind does not work in BMT to begin with. On the surface, all is madness, cynicism and torture. Yet there is a silver lining in every cloud. Think, and everything we do is meaningful and backed with rationality. The sergeants shout at us - yes but only because we refuse to listen and learn. Training is tough and some recruits get injured, lose weight and/or lose their mind from stress - whyfor should we call ourselves trained soldiers, if not for the training? Cookhouse food is unfit for human consumption? Some restaurants and certain girlfriends could do worse.
That is not to say I enjoyed BMT. It would be too far-fetched, delusional and more than a little deranged. Spending five and a half days weekly in camp takes its toll on relationships. Friends have been neglected, contacts and projects fallen apart because of a lack of focus, and all but the most steadfast newspaper readers amongst us inevitably see none of the changes taking place around the world or even locally. I quote the SAF - "It is not what you leave behind, but what you gain in the days ahead." Reconsider this statement, and let us be reminded that some of us had lives.
Colourful lives, too, of every hue and shade, and all threaded, wove or bashed forcefully into place at BMT. Never before will I have the chance to rub shoulders with such a motley mix of characters from all walks of life. Polytechnic dropouts, O Level graduates, A Level graduates, Polytechnic graduates and even the odd few degree holders return from overseas to serve their due are recruits. "Attached", "single", "never dated before", "it's complicated" and even "married" are recruits. BMT was a menagerie of these species within our specie ; an exhibition of peoples I have never met before and might never meet again.
For some of us, BMT will never end. We will sit and drink and dance together till we're old and grey, telling and retelling the "torture" that was BMT, all the while carrying a telltale smile that can only be wistful.
posted by chengwei | 12:50 PM
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