Mandatory Service — Our NS Stories
All 18-year-old male Singapore citizens and permanent residents go through a compulsory military service, the National Service (NS). And most do so after finishing a certain phrase of their education: after graduating from the Institute of Technical Education, polytechnics or junior colleges.
My army experience is one that was never “relatable”, one that people could never really “connect with”, and one so fraught with clichés and stereotypes that it is difficult for other hearts and minds to unravel. This has made it difficult for me to come forward and speak about it candidly, but I will try.
I was an administrative support assistant (or what laymen refer to as a ‘clerk’) in the manpower branch of an active unit, which essentially made me a “double minority” amongst both combatants and non-combatants. As a non-combatant, my experience departed from the “garang” (Malay slang for “fierce”) and physically-demanding nature of combat-fit soldiers. Yet, because I was posted to an active unit, I was required to stay in the camps, which was unlike the majority of the clerks, who got to stay out of camp.
When I was first posted to my unit after going through a month of stay-out Basic Military Training (BMT) for non-combatants, I was overwhelmed. It wasn’t easy to adapt to a completely new regime of military routine, and even harder to connect with people from such diverse backgrounds, not to mention live with them 24/7.
The first few weeks were truly humbling, as I realized how my privileged middle-class upbringing and schooling experience made me out-of-touch with peers of my age. I learned the importance of talking less and listening more (without judgment), and soon became “part of the family”. Having an open mind was also equally important, as I came across all sorts of interesting characters when serving the army.
My primary job scope as a welfare clerk was broad but repetitive, and I quickly learnt the ropes to manage my tasks with minimal supervision. I could understand why many denounce a clerk’s work as “brainless” and “redundant”, because to be frank very little effort is required to meet the low expectations imposed on us. However, I’ve always believed that one’s set of circumstances has little influence over his own own decision to commit, to serve with pride, and to excel.
In my limited capacity, I strove to complete each little assignment to the best of my ability, often going the extra mile to prove my worth. There were times when I was mocked by my peers for trying “too hard”, when most of the work is overlooked and under appreciated.
I still vividly recall my peer telling me “you work OT (overtime) while others go up and sleep, at the end of the day both of you still get the same pay, why so stupid?” When my work was finally recognized by my superiors, it was a bittersweet double-edged sword that came along with additional workload and sleepless nights. Yet, looking back, those difficult times allowed me to harness valuable skills and life-lessons that would prove useful in time to come.
Becoming a valued member of the team also meant that in the days when I weren’t around, my colleagues would be busy picking up the slack and calling me on my off-days to tell me how difficult it was to manage without me around. What I took away from this, and will stay with me for life, is that the highest form of recognition lies not in making your presence known, but in having your absence felt.
Teo Jun Xiang is a law student at the National University of Singapore (NUS)
The question — “what was National Service like for me?” — was one which I found difficult to answer. While it was certainly a formative experience in my life, it was not so much a story of brothers-in-arms who found a reason to serve their country with valour, but a collection of individuals placed together in a bizarre space for two years before returning to the outside world.
As I suffered asthma attacks during my Basic Military Training (BMT), I was taken out and subsequently notified that I would be serving the rest of my term in the Chemical, Biological, Radiological and Explosives unit of the Singapore Combat Engineers. It was the unit which supported not only the bomb squads, but also the soldiers who would deal with the threat of chemical and biological weapons. I was given the vocation of a storeman in charge of signal equipment and posted to the inventory control centre of the logistics department (S4), where I would work for the remainder of the two years.
The military functioned in such a way that the reality on the ground is vastly different from the theoretical understanding of the place. What I mean by this is that although I was supposed to be a signals storeman, my superiors instructed me to remain in the office as a clerk who would supervise the day-to-day administrative tasks. I was also placed in charge of the ration requisitioning for the entire unit. Since I came from a junior college, my supervisors had the impression that I had the intellectual capacity to handle these tasks.
It was the first time that I had interacted, in such close proximity, with people who were from a different educational and social background. I recall a subordinate who had only graduated from primary school. He had mental impairments and would stare into space, mutter to himself, and think only about his next meal and the next time he was allowed to use his mobile phone. This person was, unsurprisingly, the target of mean-spirited jokes by the rest, who thought of him as little more than an imbecile.
Another person I remember was the clerk working in the finance department, who would shower in shopping centres after they were closed to save on his water bills. Clearly, these individuals were more concerned with practical affairs and had no stomach for humanistic pursuits.
Nonetheless, I would say that I spent much of National Service purposefully. I wanted to make something of that time, both within and outside of camp. I chased the coveted Corporal First Class rank, which was only given out to exceptional servicemen in the unit. While friends were good to have, it was my primary concern to complete my assigned tasks efficiently and well.
I also used National Service to improve my health. As I was allowed to return home in the evenings, I devoted that time to exercise, and lost twenty kilograms over the span of one and a half years. I read a lot, wanting to keep my mind sharp in preparation for college which was to follow.
In a word, it gave me the space and time to think more seriously about my future and the person I wanted to be. It was not quite a pleasant experience, but one which I was thankful for nonetheless.
Michal Ong is a recent graduate from Yale-NUS College
I started my two years not knowing why I was serving national service (NS) but it became tangible towards the end of my time there. I started NS with 9 weeks of basic training. With the help of my kind sergeant, I started losing weight and I became fitter. Thankfully, I was able to pass the necessary tests and complete basic training. But to my horror, I was selected for 9 months of Officer Cadet School (OCS).
During the last two months of OCS when I was in the artillery school, I realized that I tend to sweat easily and am especially susceptible to heat rash — a skin condition that arises when sweat glands are clogged, giving one a prickly sensation whenever he starts to sweat. This was one of the reasons why I opted for artillery instead of infantry. I thought I could “chao-keng,” or escape, from the jungle. Little did I expect that artillery school sent us to train in Thailand, where the flat sandy plains had no shade and temperatures easily soared up to 40 degrees Celsius. With the heat and my soft armor plates, my heat rash acted up again.
It was during the last mission of a week-long outfield that one of my good friends called out to me. “Matthias! Come here. I have a surprise for you”.
Since I had a 10-minute break, I decided to sneak off with him. When we reached the room, my friend dished out a cold-cut aloe vera that had been soaked in a safety ice cambro — he had freshly cut them, andI spent the next 20 minutes gingerly peeling off the aloe-vera and applying the icy jelly-like paste all over my body. Just when I was savoring the immense relief from the heat, imagining myself in one of those Japanese spas that I often saw on TV, my instructor’s voice outside broke the silence.
“Matthias! Come here right now!”
I thought I was in for a scolding but to my relief, but when my instructor saw my aloe-vera coated back and a face plastered with glee, he sighed and walked away.
A few months later, I commissioned and began training in a unit as an officer, and my unit went to the US for live-firing and evaluation. America’s vast landscape and the grassy flat plains decorated by a few apple trees made my first visit to the US perfect, except for the cold. I always thought the cold never bothered me until I experienced sleeping outfield in the US. During the night-time, temperatures plunged to between 3 and 6 degrees Celsius, coupled with strong winds. Having to sleep at the back of a canvas covered truck, I spent the night shivering and thinking I was holding my imaginary girlfriend’s warm hands.
Late one night after our last mission of the day, our sergeant major came to us:
“Night time delivery! It’s pork porridge with century eggs!” He delivered us a special supper meal cooked from the woks of some restaurant in the US. “Chinese porridge in America? You’ve gotta be kidding me. It must taste horrible!” I thought to myself.
However, as I clutched the bowl of porridge with my cold clammy hands, I was surprised to find that the bowl of porridge was still warm. I scooped the warm, gooey rice water into my mouth and swallowed. It was heavenly. It fell short of the standard of renowned Chinese restaurants back home. It was just a simple mixture of rice and water. But at the very moment, it was the best porridge and warmest meal I had ever eaten in my life. Eating it with my guys I trained with made the meal even warmer in my heart. A bowl of hot congee right in the middle of a vast unpopulated land? Crazy. Congee became one of my favorite dishes from then on.
Towards the end of my national service, I was blessed with the chance of being parade commander of my unit’s ORD parade. As I stood in front of the parade, I reflected upon the past two years and the reason why I was serving NS dawned upon me. It was clear to me now that I wasn’t serving National service for a noble “Singapore or my country!”. I was serving it for the friends and family in front of me, for the brothers in arms whom I braved the hot and cold with. The experience helped me deepen my appreciation for the simple things in life such as nature, warm food, a warm bed, and a home to return to after booking out — little bits and pieces that, ironically, constitute my understanding of ‘Singapore’.
Matthias Lum is a recent graduate from Yale-NUS College (Class of 2020)
