Part 1: The Beginning

5 January 2021. Early morning. Slipped on a black dri-fit shirt, dark jeans that drooped way below my waist line (I was too lazy to bring in a belt), and a duffle bag laden with hangers and other items various redditors had recommended.

As my taxi pulled into Selarang Ring Camp, memories of weekends spent staycation at Changi Village clouded my thoughts. I remember slipping in and out of sleep, and as I faded in and out of consciousness, the anxieties of finally enlisting slowly began to seep in. Upon scanning the safe entry and a short 200-meter walk to the MPH, I waved goodbye to my mother, (who – as I later found out – would be ushered onto a bus going toward Pasir Ris Bus Interchange) and struggled with my 7kg duffle bag (what I would soon learn was to be called ‘Civi Bag”) up the stairs to the registration area.

Once there, I was greeted by the familiar air of anxiety tinged with masculine hostility. As I traded in my Pink IC for a Passion Card and my 11B and took a seat alongside a group of boys (most taller and some shorter than me) on benches demarcated with crosses for SDM, I couldn’t help but notice the worry that colored many of their expressions. While I hate to admit it, this worry was infectious. Yet, there was a sense of trepidation that accompanied this unfamiliar experience. Being tagged and shipped off (metaphorically of course) onto a bus, then a ferry, then another bus, to an unknown school with unfamiliar faces, really adds much to the BMT experience of untethering fresh graduates of IB or A-levels who are familiar with Singapore’s bustle, hastening their transformation into NSFs.

While I can still remember every detail of my first day, the splaying of items that we had first brought in, the mad rush I sorted my stock items in according to Stand-by-bed standards, the struggle of lifting up the absolute monstrosity of a duffle bag the SAF provided us with, alongside our field pack and assault pack up four flights of stairs, and the nervousness with which I entered my bunk for the first time, as those who had the privilege of entering the bunk earlier stared at me, the single thought I can still recall from that day that first permeated my mind was this.

“Boy, are these 2 months going to pass by slowly.”

How wrong I was.

Part 2: New Introductions

For the uninformed, every recruit (yes, I was now classified as a ‘Chao Recruit (ie. the lowest lifeform on this planet) begins his BMT experience with a 2 to 3 week confinement. Knowing this, I had done some mental calculations prior to enlistment, and expected to only taste my first bookout on the 23rd of January. You can imagine the elation I felt when my Platoon Sergeant first announced that we would be booking out on the 16th of January, Covid-19 having pushed the SAF to remove the need for a week 0, effectively making my BMT experience a solid 9 weeks instead of the usual 10.

As expected, the first 2 weeks crawled by. Each moment went at a snail’s-pace, as we were introduced to our weapon, the SAR-21, and had multiple technical handling lessons, alongside lessons for security troopers and other bog standard military training one would expect a newbie to learn. Ironically, in hindsight, those 2 weeks passed by in a blur, and I can barely recall what happened across those 10 days now. Really, the only things I can remember from then was the high frequency of PT conducts we had, ranging from SMP to AGR and the cursed Metabolic Circuit, all to prepare us for our first IPPT, which was neatly slotted 1 day before our bookout. (Heh, looking back, perhaps it was the sick vibes of Western Wednesday (yes it is indeed an undeniable fact that Rocky Hill School 4; Cookhouse 4 has the BEST food) and the icecream that motivated my tired body to perform despite having had SOC that morning. JK its only by God’s sustaining grace and mercy that I attained an unexpected IPPT gold for my first IPPT.)

But what exactly was the prevalent emotion across those 2 weeks? Well, in learning the names of all my sectionmates, getting to know them better, especially my buddy (hi erel if you’re reading this you’re a dead dog but ily now give me one x good force prep and we call it a day), I began to realize how privileged and blessed I was to be put in a section of friendly, helpful, sincere and kind people. Aside from that, it was a feeling of mounting anxiety. Seeing my sectionmates taking up responsibilities, which began from the bottom of the hierarchy, meal IC, to armskote IC and the dreaded section IC and platoon IC, my then anxious and jittery (as per usual) self muttered a silent prayer, that I would never have to take up any of these responsibilities.

Reading this now, it really is interesting how God works, even in the small things.

Part 3: Hand Grenade, IMT & BTP, and the dreaded Field Camp

Spirits were high following our first bookout. It really is funny how fast humans adapt to change. Despite spending 10 full days on the sunniest island in the Singapore Straits, spending less than 48 hours on Singapore’s mainland quickly acclimatized me to the ‘civilian’ role I was all too familiar (and thankful) for!

“No matter how epic the first bookout feels, it will never compare to your mood on your first proper book in.”

Those words are indeed rich in wisdom.

While I really treasured and enjoyed the time I spent with close ones after my first bookout, having to ‘form up’ outside Ladang, get on the code black tonner, ‘begerak kekeri be tigatiga ke keri puseng’, ‘derikenan japajalan’ and ‘akan mengharak kerapan kekenan puseng’ really hit different after 2 straight days of drinking water without having to worry about refilling it asap.

And yet, promises of ‘all throw hand grenade’ were soon to be fulfilled. After what seemed like countless rounds of E-drill lessons, both theory and online (conducted via the mortifying Learnet system), our first travel to the Hand Grenade grounds saw us repeating these drills.

Screaming my NRIC and other relevant details, the muffled sound of my own voice pressing against the SAF-issued earbuds and the anxiety of messing up E-drills did diminish from the actual throwing. I was fortunate enough to have 2nd Lft Steven (the absolute CHAD) as my Bay Safety, and with his reassurance I tossed the grenade.

The next few weeks would pass by equally quick. HG, then one bookout later, we were hit with yet another dreaded confinement. This time, it brought tidings of IMT, BTP and the seemingly towing Field Camp.

I still remember how I spent the last day before my Field Camp book in. Knowing it would be 11 days till my next bookout, I bid farewell to my parents and grandmother, knowing my spirit would be incredibly low for the next few hours. Yet, what surprised me was what occurred afterward. Lugging my assault pack to the form-up point, seeing the faces of my equally sian sectionmates, our eyes met, and behind our masks, I knew we were all cracking wry smiles.

IMT (which for the uninformed, is Individual Marksmanship Training) and BTP (which was essentially shooting at the live range the whole day) passed by relatively quickly. Declaration aside, they were really chill conducts.

The excruciating build-up to Field Camp, the multiple force preps, doing crunches while holding up our SOG and torchlight red filter on Code Black steaming concrete in Long 4, these are memories I hope to never experience again, yet are things I’m sure I will not soon forget. All the hours spent suffering with these brothers, yet, they wouldn’t properly prepare me for Field Camp.

Part 3.5: Field Camp

Field Camp really has too much content for me to summarize it here. Thus, instead of trying, I will condense it into the smallest format I know. Enjoy this Haiku.

Past the Horizon
Endless palm trees and shellscrapes
Fire fire, IC on

Okay but for real, Field Camp truly was an experience. Way too many memes that only the brothers who went through Field Camp with me would understand, so I’ll save it for now. Chicken rice with cashew and Nata Deco Pumpkin Barley really does hit different.

“Neh mind, yall not scared right? Okay come, I give you an enemy. CONTACTED CONTACTED!”

Part 4: Leadership

I can’t remember which #QOTD this was from, I have a nagging feeling it was from 2nd Lft Ong, but it went something like this.

“A crucible turns what it cannot purify to dust, and it purifies what it cannot turn to dust”

For those who know me well, they know I hate being in the centre of attention. Whether this comes from humility or from self-esteem issues and an inferiority complex, I’m sure its clearer to them than to me LOL.

Regardless, this has led to me consistently avoiding positions of prominence or leadership where possible. Again, the Father’s sovereign will was done.

In BMT, the term ‘progressive training’ encapsulates the SAF’s belief that all training requires a proper buildup and end off to achieve optimal results. In other words, one cannot complete an advanced task without first completing the foundational one. As an example, the SAF scales the intensity of physical training, seen in the 4km, 6km, 8km, 12km, 16km and 24km route marches all NSFs must complete, in order, during BMT.

Here’s what was interesting though. Against my wishes, I was first made Food IC around the third week after the initial food IC was appointed as our section’s IC. While I first took up the role begrudgingly, with fear and anxiety tinging my interactions with the School 4 DOS, I can now see the Lord did this in His loving kindness and mercy. In His way, the Father was pushing me out of my comfort zone, and scaling it progressively so I wouldn’t drown.

While I was perfectly content with staying as food IC, (which I must admit I became comfortable with after 2 days of being on call), the Father then saw that I would be appointed as Section IC during Field Camp. I still remember when I received this news. It came in the form of a rude awakening, whilst I was taking my first break during the digging of my shellscrape.

As I popped the blisters on my left index finger, Platoon Sergeant appeared behind me, his hands clutching the all-too familiar RAI ziplock bags. My heart dropped past the bottom of my stomach, falling past my feet and continuing to sink far below the earth. I knew what was coming.

“Eh Gabriel, you like shellscrape anot”

“Yes Platoon Sergeant”

“Ok come you help me hold first, later come ask me why”

Passes me RAI Ziplocks

“Yes Platoon Sergeant”

The number of things a Section IC has to account for scales up substantially from food IC. Suddenly, I had to know the whereabouts and condition of all the men in my section. I had to account for each and every piece of ammo that was given, and every RAI that we fired (which could amount to 860 pieces per day). I had to delegate manpower and give instructions. All these things stressed me out. Yet, the Father’s grace and mercy was more than enough.

Despite my initial fear, I fell into a rhythm. My amazing and cooperative section mates helped me through this process of growth, allowing me to learn how to quickly and efficiently delegate manpower in operations and movement, alongside subtly teaching me to be more confident in my instructions and abilities (sustained and given by the Lord alone of course).

To loop back to the aforementioned “progressive training”, I would soon get the sweet respite of being swapped out of Section IC on the last day of Field Camp. Being a humble ‘man’ had never felt so sweet.

This bubble would soon be burst in my 5th week following Field Camp, wherein I was suddenly appointed as Platoon IC.

You can imagine the stress I felt. In an instant, the number of responsibilities I held skyrocketed. I was now to be accountable for 58 people, had to give commands, had to act as the direct channel between the Platoon Sergeant and my platoon mates. I now had to yell out drill commands, had to march them back and forth, had to lead the dreaded force prep, had to make sure timings were met and items were brought.

Even as I was exploding internally with all these worries, the Father’s grace was more than enough.

I’ll spare you the details of my illustrious career as Platoon IC, and end off with this. Through these opportunities that have been graciously given to me throughout BMT to lead, I have begun to grow. I am now confident in giving instructions, less wavering in the decisions I make, clearer on how to properly and efficiently delegate manpower, can account for strength and be responsible for both me and my men’s wellbeing, and can assert myself as a leader even when faced with 57 other individuals who are as capable as me.

Truly, it amazes me even as I type this. Learning how to lead certainly was not what I thought I would garner from NS. Yet, through it all, the Lord’s mercy and grace was more than enough. The Father knew my weaknesses and inability, and He allowed me to grow at a pace, bending me under stress so I could grow, without allowing me to break.

For this, I can only thank the Lord, and His Son Jesus Christ. Praise Him in all things, and I pray that even as I continue on in NS, I will do all things for His glory alone. It really is sobering to look back on the journey that I’ve been through with these section mates turned brothers-in-arms over the past 2 months. It certainly was painful at times, but I would do it all again in a heartbeat.

Part 5: The future?

Normally, retrospectives are done after an event is over. However, as I’ve established in the title of this post, I am an ‘impatient clown’.

Technically, BMT is not over yet. As I type this, I have exactly 6 more days to my Passing Out Parade (POP), effectively my graduation from BMT, capped off with the 24km Route March, which due to Covid-19 restrictions, will unfortunately be conducted on Tekong, rather than on Singapore’s mainland.

Yet, even as I look back on my journey in BMT so far, I, to equal measure, look ahead. I cannot see what will happen past my POP, whether I will go to Unit or Command School. I do not know who I will meet, how I will do, what I will learn.

Even as my anxiety wants to gear up, and worry about the future, I think I won’t anymore.

Now I know. The Father has repeatedly shown me grace when I have shown none. The Father has been patient where I have been impulsive and selfish. The Father has provided me with loving and kind section mates, a nice environment to grow, and multiple opportunities to grow in my capabilities as a leader and a team player. For all these things I must give thanks, and praise Him who can and will do all things for His name’s sake.

Above that, I know the Lord is faithful. He has, and will see me through all that He wills for His divine purposes.

Brothers and Sisters, thank you for taking the time to read this post. I know it’s much longer than my previous one. I really enjoyed finally organising and getting my thoughts out though. Please keep me in prayer, as I will you, that I will continually flee from arrogance, self-righteousness, stubborn callousness to the grips of Sin that all of humanity is sinking into, and seek His will and His glory above all else. Pray for me, that I will be mindful of my thoughts and my words, that I will say and do all things so that I may grow into the image of the Lord Jesus, even as I seek to be an imperfect reflection of His magnificence. Pray that I will be brave, that the Spirit will empower me to live for Christ alone, and that the gospel will be exalted. That in all things, the Lord may be praised, and Christ may be proclaimed as King.

Romans 1:16-17

"16 For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. 17 For in it the righteousness of God is revealed from faith to faith; as it is written: “But the righteous one will live by faith.”

Praise Him.

Soli Deo Gloria