The past few weeks have been a quite a stormy period for me, emotionally speaking; as my buddy and several others in camp have pointed out, I wore an almost perpetual grim-visage when I was in camp, and it eased away for that brief moment whenever we booked out. This week was no different, on the contrary, despite it being the last week of the AIT programme, it was arguably worse.

19.05.12 My dad's birthday fell on this day, equally coincidentally, so did the need to book in especially early (Saturday, 7pm). We had our section live shoot the following day, hence the shortened rest period - the rational side of my mind could understand the logic behind going in early, there were crucial briefings, and they had to ensure that we would get sufficient rest. Yet rationality is not a strength of the human mind - emotional impulsiveness (and arguably weakness) is. Animalistic as it may sound, we were made to feel first and foremost. That was the reason why bouts of depression/depressive behavior manifested itself as I was having dinner with my family (just before I booked into camp). I broke down at the dinner table. I teared. I wept. The sorrow, angst and burden that had been stored up within me finally broke through the thresholds, triggered by the simple fact that I couldn't (in my eyes at least) celebrate my dad's birthday the way that I wanted it to be - a handmade card for him, an entire day spent with the family. It was the first time that I actually cried at home; before doing so at the dinner table, I wept in the shower. It was the first time that I actually felt unanswered, unfulfilled and perhaps even betrayed by the God whom I love - it made me feel quite a bit like Job, whose faith was allowed to be tested by the devil; albeit my situation isn't quite as dramatic or extreme as his. He endured so much, that even his wife told him (quite verse here), yet his faith remained firm, and he continued to cry out to the Lord. That was something that I forced myself to attempt over the week - to cry out and demand from Him to grant me respite.

The prayer, to say the least, didn't feel like it worked one bit when I returned to camp. The plans for the next day made things seem even more trying - it was made known to us that my section was selected to be the 'advanced party' for the next day's live shoot. Such added burdens definitely weren't welcomed, especially not when I was feeling so particularly raw - I didn't want to have to wake up at 4am the next morning (while everyone else got up at 5.30am at the very latest), especially not when I knew very well that the day would end not at 11.59pm, but quite possibly at 3am the next morning or even later (it actually ended at 5am for my platoon - that was the time that we went to sleep).

I suppose my emotions would be quite apparent in what was in my diary (an excerpt is below):

You MUST help me overcome this state of anger, despair, depression and desperation - for You had promised an easy and light yoke. Hear me, oh God of Isaac, the one who offered Jonah rest, I beg you Lord.

20.05.12 (This was the day that I wrote my longest ever diary entry for AIT.) I woke up this particular morning feeling as though I were vulnerable and alone - I suppose the insufficient sleep was partially to blame for this. The fact that it was a Sunday, and I was stuck in an army camp didn't help either. I missed the comfort of a nice weekend breakfast, be it at home or in some cafe - either ways, it was spent with family, just as the rest of the day would be spent.

I'm only human; I do forget at times that even in the darkness, God's light shines through.

We reached the shooting area at around 7am, far earlier than the rest of the company as we had to set up things such as tents and water points. All of those were delivered in a tonner, the same ride that we shared.

Kick starting the day proper was a dry run of how the shoot would be carried out, subsequently came blanks. Up till that point, the shoot was going relatively well, perhaps with the exception of how I was told that I had to move faster (it was a fire-movement exercise, with rounds). Then it started to rain. Heavily. It started to rain as we were waiting for the live shoot to commence - that was when the angst returned: I didn't want to lie down in pools of mud, I did not want to, as how my former teacher had put it, "be one with the dirt" - I was upset that God would allow it to pour. But yet it did, and it continued long enough to ensure that ponds and pools of mud were unavoidable. But yet I tried - I am a germaphobe - despite the fact that logical thought would clearly point out its unfeasibility. In spite of my efforts, my pants were still soaked, as was my ILBV and the lower portion of my shirt. What was worse was that my attempts at dodging the puddles did not go unnoticed - the commanders facilitating took notice and got a tad bit worked up over it. Thankfully, no one blew their top over it, but honestly, the fuss that they kicked up was not unjustified - my (failed) efforts at avoiding the puddles made me significantly slower than the rest of the section (I was close to 2 bounds behind them). That being said, in my defence, that slowness also allowed me to take more accurate shots at the target - I managed to hit the target 18 times, not too shabby when one considers that the highest hits in the day was only 24.

Finishing the (really wet and muddy) day shoot, we had some time to rest - there was little that we could do but to wait for nightfall (how else would a night shoot be conducted). Besides, there were other units also sharing the same facility as us, they too had to use the grounds. At around 7pm, just after we finished our dinner, it started to rain again, heavily too, might I add. Evidently, God really wanted me to get wet and muddied, but it wasn't as if I really cared anymore - my clothes were to say the least still damp, I didn't feel clean, and above all, I did not want to actually get into trouble for being seen avoiding the puddles for a second time. The night shoot was not as smooth as the day's; during the blanks shoot, the SAW weapon that I picked up wouldn't fire well - shots were going off one at a time, and in between, constant re-cocking was necessary. Apparently, it was because the weapon's blank-attachment wasn't fixed on properly - how very dangerous. The night shoot went even worse - midways through, I broke the charging/cocking handle. I believe I was reloading the weapon. I suppose that was however the most eventful thing in the day, apart from getting wet and muddied in my nether regions.

As expected, any shoots that had a night section ended late - we finally reached camp at 2.35am, and after the rifle cleaning and RO, it was already 4.35am. Yet my platoon wasn't allowed to sleep afterwards, thanks to a select group of individuals who refused to simply get the highly redundant parade over and done with. Fidgeting around wasn't their only folly, it was being uncooperative and defiant that was. We finally retired at close to 5am after being made to wait out in the open parade square (we were the lone platoon there) - it was a terrible price to pay when one considers that the reveille timing that lay ahead was 6.45am.

God, I truly wonder why you are subjecting me to all of this. yet, I must trust that even in the darkness, Your light shines.

21.05.12 Some of the events mentioned above would have actually spilled over into section, but I chronicled it under Monday's entry, so for the sake of highlighting how long that particular day was, it would remain there.

Waking up at 6.45am was not something to laugh about, especially when one only went to bed just over an hour ago (5am), but at least, we were allowed some more rest after breakfast. Evidently, getting downstairs by 7am was necessary so as to make sure that we were fed [with breakfast], but clearly, that would mean that no one in the company would get their '7 hours of uninterrupted sleep/rest'. I had a rather weird dream during the rest that came after breakfast, it went something like this:

The living room was dark, no lights were on, and the space was illuminated solely by the television screen and light spilling out from the nearby kitchen. Colourful shapes filled the screen, apparently I was playing some sort of puzzle game on the television - something like bubble pop. Then my dad interrupts me; he was still in his office wear; I suppose he had just got home. Hurrying me, he switched off the television and reminded me that we had a celebration to attend, but not before coming out of the store room with a champagne bottle that was packaged in what seemed to be from Cartier.

And then my alarm rang, and I woke up. It was 9.20am. I went back to sleep, before getting up again 20 minutes later. Laundry had to be done (those muddied stuff from the previous day, there was no way that I would simply leave them around without at least getting rinsed), even if another 10 or so minutes of rest would have been good.

The rest of the morning was spent properly cleaning up the rifles that we had used - I had 2 to clean: the SAW that I fired, as well as my own SAR 21 (which I had assumed at first was clean because I didn't think that anyone had drawn it). We were supposed to have a grueling episode of strength training in the afternoon, but thankfully the commanders were sane enough to realise that none of us would have the strength to pull through it - what we did instead was a watered down version that was a lot more manageable than expected. Bit by bit, God was showing His grace.

22.05.12 According to the schedule that was told to us the night before, Tuesday was supposed  to have been a long and strenuous day. There was supposed to have been at the very least a 6km route march, and training for Thursday's "Skill and Arms" test (which involved an obstacle course, casualty lift for quite a distance and a 50m leopard crawl segment). But as implied by the use of italics for the word "supposed" just above, expectations for the day were unmet (this is a positive thing of course). It started off with the route march being replaced with a 2.2km cadence run - it was pleasantly (if not surprisingly) manageable. After the run, we were 'granted' a canteen break (I can't believe that we aren't entitled to it considering that we were no longer recruits), but I gave it up to see the MO - I wanted to ask about a lower back curvature that I had (I believe the medical term is lordosis, I was just wondering if it was scoliosis), and if it was anything that I should be concerned about, and implicitly, if it was something that could get me out of my duties. It was a reasonable thing to be concerned about, especially because life in the infantry would guarantee the need to carry heavy loads rather frequently (by just donning on my ILBV, I would be able to feel a lower back strain when I stood up straight, plus the ILBV has the rather magical ability to cause breathlessness). After waiting for 3 hours or so, I finally saw the MO, and received little more than some cream to alleviate muscle strains and painkillers - apparently, lower back strains/pains were a "common thing" in the SAF. I didn't get any excuse chit, not in any permutation possible, which was rather annoying considering how such chits were issued to a slew of people who entered the room just before me. I suppose that was a sign from God that trying to down-PES via a back issue isn't going to happen for me, which is why I will continue to pray for a miracle to happen - that I would get a revocation/lighter posting after this season of AIT. And then I found this verse to comfort me:

Isaiah 43:1, 3 -

But now, thus says the Lord, who created you, O Jacob,
And He who formed you, O Israel:
"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by your name;
You are Mine.

For I am the Lord your God,
The Holy One of Israel, your Savior;
I gave Egypt for your ransom,
Ethiopia and Seba in your place.

I guess it just serves to remind me that while I may feel as though I were in Job's shoes, I have already been redeemed, and that the Lord is willing, and will do anything that is good for me.

That aside, the Skill & Arms training that came after lunch was basically a walk-through of the SOC grounds, so as to explore how we could clear the obstacles as a section. Rather thankfully, it wasn't too intense - the tiring part was actually walking from obstacle to obstacle under the blazing afternoon heat. Afterwards came area cleaning, followed by a really anal area inspection, where what was previously cleared (e.g. aired clothes hung inside the locker, clean clothes wrapped [neatly] in plastic bags) were suddenly deemed as a non-adherence to the standards (what standards). Whatever. At least we had a nights' out later on in the evening - our first ever.

I met up with my folks - it felt so wonderful to see them mid-week; dinner was at Changi Airport's Itacho (almost a parallel to my very first book-out), followed by a lovely hour or so spent at home resting. I truly love my parents, and I'm so blessed to have them, and to get a chance to see them on a Tuesday night.

23.05.12

Psalm 28:6 - Blessed be the Lord, because He has heard the voice of my supplications!

The week is drawing to a close, and it is just one more day to the end of AIT - but the threat of guard duty looms. I won't deny that I prayed that I'd be spared from this round of regimental duty, selfish as it may seem; I wanted to spend an entire weekend and more with my family and friends.

I had feared the day would be stressful, but I was proved wrong. Owing to the morning rain, 5BX was cancelled. Then came Mobility Training - basically, we were hoping and bopping in an assortment of manners; it was deemed an 'irregular' training by our company's staff sergeant. That was thankfully rather simple and not too physically taxing - I suppose it's due in part to the cool weather that the morning shower provided. Afterwards, it was pretty much rest time, sans the short interruption by our section commander to discuss (around a table) the 'game plan' for the Skills & Arms test on Thursday.

Apart from an interview by our Platoon Commander (PC), the afternoon was equally relaxed as the morning, post-training. From the interview, it would seem that our PC was a nice guy, smart, rational. It's just that I didn't quite like the piece of advice that he gave - to simply grin and bear with what I hated in the army; then again, he isn't the source of this advice, he's merely passing it on.

Digressing for a moment, here's my issue with the whole grinning and bearing advice (or in army lingo, "suck thumb"). It is passiveness at it's extreme (and by extension, a lack of fighting spirit). It does nothing but to reinforce a sense of helplessness - both of which contradict the whole "care for soldiers" line that is in the SAF's 7 core values, as well as the SAF's vision of thinking soldiers. Passivity and blind compliance isn't the solution to the army's problems, it's a hindrance to it's progress and aspirations.

But I've whined and digressed a little too much. At 3.45pm, our AIT debrief started, where things were summed up, and our privileges as trained riflemen were revealed - electronic devices were allowed in, we no longer had to verify short term (< 3 days) MCs immediately to name a few. They aren't exactly privileges in my eyes - these were things that we enjoyed as entitlements while we were in Tekong. Rambles aside, our first and only trial run at a casualty lift (via a stretcher) was done just after this debrief - I couldn't imagine myself helping to carry 2 filled water tanks (approximately 40kg in weight) for the 1.6km distance that was required in the test on Thursday.

After dinner, there was again another waiting session - this time due to the fact that the Muslim food wasn't ready due to a logistic mess up. Sitting in the cookhouse, I shared with my buddy a little about my depressive state. Basically, this was what I shared with him:

I feared that if I remained in this particular posting, I would become so down that I'd spiral into clinical depression - the environment and the job scope simply weren't suitable for an individual like myself. I knew very well the way to get myself out of this depressive state that would haunt me so very regularly - think positively, look forward to positive milestones, recognise the good moments of the past (and of the future). Yet not only was it difficult to get into this state of positivity, but to a certain extent, I suppose I was unwilling to do so. You see, in my mind, getting over this pain would suggest a resignation at the very least to my present situation, and in doing so, all hope of something better would be lost - that was what I feared losing: the promise of something that would be more suitable for myself.

24.05.12 Thursday proved to be a tiring day, but at the very least, there was something to look forward to - an early (5.00pm) book out from the city centre, as we were sent to attend the Army Open House.

Setting the tone for the morning's activities was the 6km route march that we did - the first 2km or so were done with our regular standard battle order (SBO), sans soft plates (they are basically pieces of padding that seem to serve no reason other than to trap heat), and the other 4 with those soft plates. As always, the start is easier than the finish - the last three kilometres or so were especially difficult; blisters were forming, my body was heating up to an inordinate degree. But it was only through God's grace that I pulled through - I didn't thrive or excel in it, but at least I survived.

Afterwards came the Skills & Arms test. Starting it off was a rifle handling test - stripping and assembling of a SAW. Just like how it was the previous time, I wasn't fast enough, but at least I tried my best (given the little practice we had prior to the test). Then came the grueling bit - the obstacle course. It wasn't as though it were easy; it was very tiring, but it felt like it flew by very quickly, something which I'm incredibly grateful for. Following that was a 50m leopard crawl, and a [dummy] grenade toss, the latter of which I was terrible at during my days in Tekong, and still remain terrible at - I believe the piece of plastic flew no further than 15m from where I was; the target was at 25m or so. And this happened after I tried to use the tossing technique that was taught to us by our commander. Oh well. The last bit was basically carrying the stretcher, along with the 40kg worth of water tanks on it back to the start point - that was truly the hardest part. I can't believe that people could run through the whole course; my section's aim was merely to complete the course - which we did, others were there to win it, their gusto and gung-ho-ism was scary.

Things were especially rushed after the debrief and prize presentation that followed the test - we had to leave by 2.30pm or so. Packing my stuff, showering and eating [out rationed] meals never seemed to have happened at such a frantic pace before. But it all slowed down after we boarded the (old and rickety) bus. Reaching the F1 Paddock area pretty much signaled our book out - my buddy and I, along with the sergeants, and most definitely quite a number of others weren't the least bit interested in the contents of the open house, and we headed for air-conditioned venues almost immediately after disembarking from the bus. Even the meet-up-point that the sergeants picked was a clear sign on where their interests lay. That was comical.

And that pretty much marks the end of my AIT journey.

Lord, I know that if anything, Your glory has shined through over the past few days, despite my spiritual and emotional weakness at the start and in bouts throughout the week. They shined in a myriad of small, but noticeable ways. While my future as a rifleman in 2SIR seems bleak and hopeless, I believe that I will be rescued soon, for You promised that those who "asked [would be] given". I thank You for this time of growth (as a family friend had put it), no matter how difficult it is, and I am reminded that I am not the only one who had to endure hardships to mature spiritually - the men of the bible did it (Job, Jonah, Moses), so did people close to myself - Lionel for one.

God, I'm waiting for you to rescue me.