I WAS A MILITARY MAN!!!
Actually any (real) man in Singapore over the age of 17 would have had experienced some form of military training while growing up in Singapore. In fact, you are micro chipped (ok I'm kidding, but it might as well have been like that) from the time you turn 16, and you'd have to register in preparation for National Service (Military Service, basically). If you want to step out of Singapore, you have to get permission from the army to do so. Basically, between the age of 16-23, the army owns you. If you decide to go for a holiday when you registered for the army, you'll have to apply for an exit permit to exit the country.
I went into the army when I was 19, 2 weeks after I arrived back in Singapore from the States and Canada. I went to US for a holiday with my mum to visit my long lost cousin who left for greener pastures then off to Canada for Big Ben's graduation ceremony at the University of British Columbia (Big Ben is my brother lah!). Desperate acclimatisation aside, going into a forced discipline environment after such a long holiday was a big step for me, but not one that I had any other choice anyway. On that fateful day, mum and Big Ben sent me off on a bus at the community centre near our home. I honestly felt like I was being sent off for war, never to see my family again, recieve a heavily vetted, hand written, tear soaked letter from my mum once a month, and get hooked on heroin just to get through the training (yeah!!).
Nope, none of that! I was in the regime known as the sickly soldiers contingent (Hokkien translation : pua peh peng), and all my army buddies were all stricken with one kind of aliment or disease or injury. Well, it was a stroke of luck that my medical examination showed up that my haemoglobin count was slightly lower than the normal person. This meant that I was supposed to get dizzy spells, cramps and fainting events all the time. huhhhh??.....Before that examination, I have never fainted in my life, had a couple of cramps from the torturous (check spelling) Physical Education sessions we had in secondary school, dizzy spells from alcohol intoxication from nightclubs and thats about it. Well, if you say I'm too weak to be on the frontline, I'm not about to scream out that I'm actually quite fit to throw myself into the bayonets of our enemies.
Speaking of army medical examinations, its hilarious for me now looking back at it. It was daunting for an impressionable 18 year old immature kiddo. I was told to strip off to my undies ( I dressed up for the occasion, Calvins) in the holding room with other 18-20 year old kiddos and sit on a cold polycarbonate chair with full blast air conditioning to wait for the doctors to examine us. When my name ( WONG KANG LOOONNNGGG!!!!!) was called, I had to strut like a supermodel into the badly concealed examination pod (the tacky pink and white polka dotted screens were not even long enough to cover the examination section!). The doctor, with his commander-in-chief actions, motioned me over to another cold polycarbonate chair and told me to sit down.
I must admit I was a little bit shivery. Oh no, I thought! The training's started already???......Its almost a game of power play, of master and slave, of BDSM...... There he was, in his powerful white shirt, crisp black pants and cheap Ang Mo Kio (a cheap town in Singapore) Central shoes, accessorised by his stethoscope, exerting his medical influence over a young, naive, scantily clad teenager. My only saving grace was that even though I was only dressed in my underwear, I felt more expensive than he ever will (Prada shoes, love! You'd ever go wrong with them....). After asking all the typical questions about smoking, tuberculosis and heart disease, the million dollar question came......
Doctor Cheap Shoes : "Have you ever engaged in any homosexual activity with another man?"
Calvin Klein : "Ermmm....nooo...."
Doctor Cheap Shoes : " Ok...take off your underwear now........and cough."
I passed the medical anyway, except for my blood test, which turned out to be my saving grace anyway. I was then channelled to do an "IQ" test which ultimately decided what camp and vocation I would be posted to. That's right, a computer program decides whether you'll be sent to the front line as a sniper, commando, officer to die first for the nation or if you'll be a adminstrative clerk stuck in the office adjusting the airconditioning to the perfect temperature so as not sweat a single droplet of perspiration when you are hard at work on your computer working out the leave balance of the soldiers in your company.
I became a mechanic anyway.
Actually any (real) man in Singapore over the age of 17 would have had experienced some form of military training while growing up in Singapore. In fact, you are micro chipped (ok I'm kidding, but it might as well have been like that) from the time you turn 16, and you'd have to register in preparation for National Service (Military Service, basically). If you want to step out of Singapore, you have to get permission from the army to do so. Basically, between the age of 16-23, the army owns you. If you decide to go for a holiday when you registered for the army, you'll have to apply for an exit permit to exit the country.
I went into the army when I was 19, 2 weeks after I arrived back in Singapore from the States and Canada. I went to US for a holiday with my mum to visit my long lost cousin who left for greener pastures then off to Canada for Big Ben's graduation ceremony at the University of British Columbia (Big Ben is my brother lah!). Desperate acclimatisation aside, going into a forced discipline environment after such a long holiday was a big step for me, but not one that I had any other choice anyway. On that fateful day, mum and Big Ben sent me off on a bus at the community centre near our home. I honestly felt like I was being sent off for war, never to see my family again, recieve a heavily vetted, hand written, tear soaked letter from my mum once a month, and get hooked on heroin just to get through the training (yeah!!).
Nope, none of that! I was in the regime known as the sickly soldiers contingent (Hokkien translation : pua peh peng), and all my army buddies were all stricken with one kind of aliment or disease or injury. Well, it was a stroke of luck that my medical examination showed up that my haemoglobin count was slightly lower than the normal person. This meant that I was supposed to get dizzy spells, cramps and fainting events all the time. huhhhh??.....Before that examination, I have never fainted in my life, had a couple of cramps from the torturous (check spelling) Physical Education sessions we had in secondary school, dizzy spells from alcohol intoxication from nightclubs and thats about it. Well, if you say I'm too weak to be on the frontline, I'm not about to scream out that I'm actually quite fit to throw myself into the bayonets of our enemies.
Speaking of army medical examinations, its hilarious for me now looking back at it. It was daunting for an impressionable 18 year old immature kiddo. I was told to strip off to my undies ( I dressed up for the occasion, Calvins) in the holding room with other 18-20 year old kiddos and sit on a cold polycarbonate chair with full blast air conditioning to wait for the doctors to examine us. When my name ( WONG KANG LOOONNNGGG!!!!!) was called, I had to strut like a supermodel into the badly concealed examination pod (the tacky pink and white polka dotted screens were not even long enough to cover the examination section!). The doctor, with his commander-in-chief actions, motioned me over to another cold polycarbonate chair and told me to sit down.
I must admit I was a little bit shivery. Oh no, I thought! The training's started already???......Its almost a game of power play, of master and slave, of BDSM...... There he was, in his powerful white shirt, crisp black pants and cheap Ang Mo Kio (a cheap town in Singapore) Central shoes, accessorised by his stethoscope, exerting his medical influence over a young, naive, scantily clad teenager. My only saving grace was that even though I was only dressed in my underwear, I felt more expensive than he ever will (Prada shoes, love! You'd ever go wrong with them....). After asking all the typical questions about smoking, tuberculosis and heart disease, the million dollar question came......
Doctor Cheap Shoes : "Have you ever engaged in any homosexual activity with another man?"
Calvin Klein : "Ermmm....nooo...."
Doctor Cheap Shoes : " Ok...take off your underwear now........and cough."
I passed the medical anyway, except for my blood test, which turned out to be my saving grace anyway. I was then channelled to do an "IQ" test which ultimately decided what camp and vocation I would be posted to. That's right, a computer program decides whether you'll be sent to the front line as a sniper, commando, officer to die first for the nation or if you'll be a adminstrative clerk stuck in the office adjusting the airconditioning to the perfect temperature so as not sweat a single droplet of perspiration when you are hard at work on your computer working out the leave balance of the soldiers in your company.
I became a mechanic anyway.
I believed I got through my 3 months of basic military training purely based on the force of my character and my sarcastic humour. I didn't have much physical strength to rely on, not that it was all that important in my contingent of sickly soldiers anyway. In the army, all classes of people are lumped together in a camp. You' get your IT nerds, smart arses, effeminent sisters, small time gangsters who try to act tough all the time and weirdos who talk to themselves (who may actually be "smarties" trying to get out of the army based on psychological reasons, but don't realise that these psycho records will work against them in the real world) There's always an abundance of bullies, and if you didn't stand up for yourself or be street smart about your surroundings, you'll be eaten alive!
Now, these bullies can ruin your life in there, getting you into trouble that will get you detained in the army camp over numerous weekends. Not to mention being the guest of honour for their blanket parties. Oh no, they certainly don't serve champagne and canapes in those parties. Basically, you get covered with a blanket while you are asleep and everyone has a go at bashing you up. You wouldn't even know what hit ya! Luckily for me, I became quite good friends with them and was actually protected against other bullies. Being able to act like an educated Ah Beng worked in my favour.........They were great, made me feel like a ganster's moll.
In our 3 months of intense physical and military training, we were only really confined for the first 2 weekends, with family and friends visiting on the 2nd weekend. Damn, the whole place looked like a carnival when that happens! My mum, godma, granny, aunties and cousins came bearing enough food to feed a Somalian army for a year! Mee goreng, chay tow kway, roast duck drumsticks, fried noodles, sugar cane juice and all the food I had taken granted for. In the army, as you would expect, the food was shit. Cooked by a bunch of imbeciles who play Euro Trash music in the at 5:30 am in the morning to "inspire" us, the food truly was a maggot's feast. I hope and pray that one day, justice will be served to these bastards who tortured us terrified teenage wannabe soldiers when they get to taste their own food, and hopefully choke and die from it.
Ok, enough army horror stories, I will continue again when I think of more army real life stories....
Now, to the survivor part.......I am slowly getting hooked, but I'm afraid to admit it at work....seems quite strange when everyone else is talking about Forensic Investigators, MythBusters, Beyond Tomorrow and other intellectual programs and I suddenly asked if anyone watched trash fest Celebrity Survivor. I may find the courage one day......
And why the hell did they vote Ben off??? He's useful (well maybe not in tonight's episode) and is one of the reasons why I'm watching the show.......Anyways...got to leave you guys with a pic....
In our 3 months of intense physical and military training, we were only really confined for the first 2 weekends, with family and friends visiting on the 2nd weekend. Damn, the whole place looked like a carnival when that happens! My mum, godma, granny, aunties and cousins came bearing enough food to feed a Somalian army for a year! Mee goreng, chay tow kway, roast duck drumsticks, fried noodles, sugar cane juice and all the food I had taken granted for. In the army, as you would expect, the food was shit. Cooked by a bunch of imbeciles who play Euro Trash music in the at 5:30 am in the morning to "inspire" us, the food truly was a maggot's feast. I hope and pray that one day, justice will be served to these bastards who tortured us terrified teenage wannabe soldiers when they get to taste their own food, and hopefully choke and die from it.
Ok, enough army horror stories, I will continue again when I think of more army real life stories....
Now, to the survivor part.......I am slowly getting hooked, but I'm afraid to admit it at work....seems quite strange when everyone else is talking about Forensic Investigators, MythBusters, Beyond Tomorrow and other intellectual programs and I suddenly asked if anyone watched trash fest Celebrity Survivor. I may find the courage one day......
And why the hell did they vote Ben off??? He's useful (well maybe not in tonight's episode) and is one of the reasons why I'm watching the show.......Anyways...got to leave you guys with a pic....
G.I. Wong (Grand Idiot Wong) circa 1997
Gosh, I was skinny then!
1 comment:
hey...dun hold on to the past...anyways i saw survivor...taped on video...and was kinda boring...somehow one tribe has more boys?anyways heard the next survivor is divided into races...that be good!!
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