Recounting the Time NS changed my life

17 years old.

Sweat was pouring down my forehead, stinging my eyes as it brought with it some of the camouflage cream that we had smeared on our faces earlier that morning. I was lying face down on my stomach on the forest floor, crawling slowly and painfully towards an endpoint I could not even see. One of my knees were screaming in agony from a deep bruise I sustained from landing wrongly the day before. My elbows were on the verge of giving away. Each time my hands went forward, I was gasping for breath under the weight of the 15 kilogram 'Field Pack' on my back and the heavy rifle that I had to drag underneath. The heat and humidity from the tropical sun only made it much more unbearable under the thick 'LBV'  body vest and sweltering helmet. Through mud and sweat, I crawled with the rest of my platoon with no rest and end in sight. Not even a second of it. Each time I stopped, head spinning from exhaustion, a commander would come over and screamed in my ears.

"RECRUIT!! YOU F*CKING ***, HOW DARE YOU F*CKING STOP! YOU F*CKING BURDEN! MOVE YOU F*....."

And I cared not for what else he has to say. I cared not about the pain that have enveloped my entire body, nor the fact that I was filthy, having not showered for four days in the jungle, or the fact that I was so hungry, having to eat only rations all this while. But I carried on, never once giving up. I was a soldier and everyone was doing it. Step by step. Minutes turned into hours.

 I remembered I was angry. Why were they doing this to us? It was inhumane. I remembered having had to 'leopard crawl' the night before with the field pack on my back to a spot in the middle of the forest, blind as a bat where we stood in the middle of the forest all naked. And to crawl over the filthy latrine point, the place where we dug a hole and literally took a dump in. Then there was the strenuous morning exercises, never-ending punishments and verbal assault. We must have done over 200 push-ups every day. I remembered one of my commanders telling me that I was worth less than the grass under my boots and it hurt my feelings. No matter how painful their stinging words were, the only thing I could say was "Yes Sergeant, I am worthless" which only doubles the pain. I was fuming, and thinking of how uncivilized and barbaric my commanders were but I kept on going. At the same time I was silently praying to God, that I make it out in one piece. Just one of the hundred or more silent rebels on Pulau Tekong, broken but not defeated. 

Bruised and exhausted, I finally reached the spot we had to gather. Relieved, I thought I could take a short rest but no. 

"YOU F**KING A**H*LES, YOU LEAVE YOUR COMRADES BEHIND RIGHT? NEVER MIND, WHOLE LOT KNOCK IT DOWN AND DON'T STOP UNTIL I F**KING TELL YOU"

There is no words to describe how I was feeling at that point. All I can say is that we obliged, defeated and helpless. We still gave our everything, every last ounce of strength to this senseless physical torture. By then, my entire body was shivering as I continued giving push-ups. When I slowed down from the strain, a commander would appear out of nowhere and shouted in my ears. 

"RECRUIT WAN, YOU WANT TO BE A BURDEN RIGHT? SO YOU CAN F**KING REST WHILE EVERYONE ELSE IS PUNISHED RIGHT! YOU C*****!"

I can't remember how long we were there. All I know was that I gave my best, beyond physical boundaries I never knew I could have achieved and yet, it was still never good enough. I was never good enough. That was when I broke down and cried. And yet, I was still doing push-ups because I did not want to be a disappointment. In my head, I was blaming myself for being so weak, that I was to be defeated by the barbarism of such an activity. Half an hour passed and over a hundred push-ups after, finally, I collapsed, muscle spasms racking up through every nerve in my chest and arm. All I could hear was the throbbing of my heart and echoes all around and felt the hot tears of defeat running down my oily, camouflaged face. There were black spots in the corners of my eyes and yet, I could still hear some commander shouting in my ears. But their voices were now a distant echo.

"EVERYONE F**KING STOP AND LOOK AT ME!"

I painfully looked up at my commander. There he was, holding onto a bunch of letters. 

"DO YOU ALL KNOW WHAT THIS IS?"

We all knew what they were. These were the letters that our loved ones had written for us. The letters that we were waiting for ever since we came to serve the military. Looking at them from afar, all I could think of was about my family. What would they think if they saw me right then? Weak and helpless. The confident, proud young son that they could depend on, lying on the floor sobbing. I wish they were right here with me right now to give me the encouragement I needed. Just maybe I could go on a little bit more, just maybe. All I wanted was to hear my protective mum scolding my commanders for being irrational. To hear my sister telling me that everything was going to be better. At that moment, all I wanted was to feel the warmth of my family.

"BECAUSE ALL OF YOU ARE SELFISH, YOU DON'T DESERVE TO READ YOUR LETTERS!"

He shredded all of the letters and with it, whatever meager hopes left in me. In all my life, I always thought that being strong was to never let your feelings show but that day, I howled. 

I could no longer lift myself up both physically and emotionally. I could vividly remember the thoughts that ran through my mind that evening. Just blaming myself for being too weak. Too weak to help myself and too weak to help my comrades. How could I protect my family if I was so weak. On the forest floor, my mind ran through all the low times in my life. The time when I got bullied in primary school. The time when I felt so lonely, trudging back from school. The times when I talked to God on my prayer mat at night after a long and hard day. And then I recalled the fateful day that I made a resolve that had changed my life thus far. The resolve to be a 'khalifah' of this world. Someone who was strong enough to help the people around me. To bring joy to the people around me. To lift them up and tell them that the future is bright and waiting. Someone with the right virtue and attitude. And the day that that my dad told me he was sorry for being a disappointment of a father and he cried. It was on these days that I knew I could change if only I were stronger. 

I swore on that very day, on the forest floor, I would never let any of my family members feel hurt again. With whatever ounce of strength left in me, I would give it to catch every last tear that fall from their faces and I would make those who made them upset pay a heavy price. But first, I had to be stronger. Much, much stronger than this. On that day, I knew that I would even go to the extent of killing someone if it meant protecting my family. I sat up.

"Do you all not see why we push you to your limits?" a voice broke out. It was my commander. All around I could see my comrades, eyes red and some hiding their faces beneath their sleeves. 

"We are not barbarians. You are much stronger than who you actually think you are. Even if I told you that you are worthless, do you realize who would never think of you as that?" 

No one answered.

"It is your loved ones. Here I am tearing up all your letters but not one of you stopped me. Don't you want to know what they have to say? Recruit Wan?"

He asked me in front of everyone. I kept my silence, the very first time I dared to defy my superior.

"Protect the people who have protected you thus far. They are the reason for your strength. If you can't give your life to the country, at least give your life to the people who matter to you."

And with that he brought out another bag and in it, was all the real letters, untouched and in one piece and he distributed it to us. I took mine and read them once, twice. Over and over again. Tears smeared across the letter, staining it and smudging the ink and I furiously wiped them away, afraid of losing its content. Family is a blessing in life, we should learn to treasure them. I kept the letter in the breast pocket of my uniform for many weeks after that fateful day. Every time I washed my uniform, I would take the letter out and when I put it on again, I would slip the letter in. Even when one day, I forgot to remove the letter and it was destroyed by the water, I still kept it like a talisman. 

I was 17 years old. 

But it never felt the same again.