A Soldier's Tale

The burgeoning rivalry started way back in the kampong days. Boys bred from the same street, yet when it comes to Marbles or Kite Flying or Tamiya Racing, Running, Football, the final will undoubtedly be me and him. Romien Vs Hilal in pure Montague and Capulet style.

God knows how many endless fights we got ourselves into. If we were boxers, our gloves would have worn thin. Yet we managed to keep ourselves from murdering each other despite attending the same school for 10 sordid years. Wasn't until our tertiary years that we finally attended a different institution. New rivalries were made, but all were a far cry compared to Hilal.

Then came the sirens' call to National Service. It was a sombre occasion. It was going to be 2 1/2 years of sorrow. I lamented miserably... and there tucked away in the far corner was the familiar face that met my fists on countless occasions.

The 'Love' story commences. Same bloody Company. Same bloody Platoon. Same bloody Section. Definitely Oscar script material. Somehow we have matured the last few years. We didn't communicate. Potential massacre was curbed. It was a telepathic kind of mutual understanding. No one seemed to notice. Perfect.

Life was tough adjusting to army life. When it was scorching hot, we wished it would rain. And when it rained, we begged for the sun. By the time we thought we were doing fine, Field Camp came knocking on the door. 7 days 7 nights out in the jungle. Prey to mosquitos. No bathing. Frolicking in the mud. We were in the dirtiest state of our lives. Adding to the misery, the only food we had to eat were Combat rations. On the outer packaging it reads 'Mutton Beriyani'. Sounds nice? It looks and smells of vomit. Im not sure though if it tastes the same for I have not tasted vomit.

By the 6th day, morale was below zero. It had been pouring since day 1. Here I am sitting under my tent, wretched and drenched... when my tent tore. Though it was a small hole, it acted like a pipe spewing its contents on my face.

Uncomfortable, yet I remained motionless. I tucked my knees closely to my chest. The water from the hole acted as a catalyst for the already freezing conditions. I was shivering like a dying worm. I took out my candle. It was the last one. Held it in my hands and lighted it.

I relish as the wax dribbled onto my hands. It kept me warm. An ugly frog had already found a cosy noodge the area underneath my legs. How I wished I was Mr. Froggy. Then, as sudden as the rain got heavier, my tent crumbled. I was in a pitiful mess.

I was struggling to brave the cold at the same time, rebuilding my tent. Selfish bastards in the comfort of their own tents didn't give a hoot about me. I could feel the 20 or so pair of eyes engrossed in watching my drudegery. Then a familiar figure defied the treacherous rain to lend me a helping hand...Hilal.

We remained silent until the tent was erected once again. "Thank you", I sheepishly muttered. "Don't mention it. I know you would have done the same", came his reply as he walked toward his tent.

I was cold to the bone by now as I sat under my tent. Hilal returned and crawled beside me. He brought out whatever that remained of his candles and lighted one up, placing it between us. I scoured my pocket for my pack of cigarettes. Alas, the pack is soaked like a sponge. What luck! Hilal then took out his pack. Only one stick left. He insisted that we shared. And for the first time in our melodramatic history, we talked instead of cursing at each other.

We talked about childhood years all the way till the present times. We laughed, we punched and we shoved each other as if we were like brothers arguing over the last piece of pie. For the first time in my National Service, I was actually feeling glad. Glad that it was raining....Glad that I found a friend. God must have summoned all his magic to create the sun and all else that is pretty, but I guess he saved his best work in creating this rain.

It has been a few months now since I fulfilled my national obligations. Here I am speeding in my car along Changi's Coastal Road, passing by Changi Beach, then the nostalgic SAF Ferry Terminal. Then it began to pour. I smiled. Somewhere out there, in the gruesome depths of the Tekong jungle a soldier probably...just probably found a friend...like I did...2 1/2 years ago.