I have been living a lie. My days as a full-time national serviceman (NSF) is undoubtedly numbered and for the most part of my tenure as a soldier, I have believe that National Service is unequivocally indispensable and integral in preserving our country's national security and defence. I have also held strongly to the belief that as a corollary of the aforementioned premise, NS is incontrovertible a meaningful 2 years for all Singaporean sons, regardless. But recent events have reshaped my understanding and perception of NS. Whilst I still strongly assert that NS is important and that importance should never be downplayed, I have learned to accept the fact that sometimes, NS can be a waste of time.

It is humbling knowing that I have individuals under me who struggle with much more pressing issues at hand and still find the will within themselves to drag their heavy feet out to the field. I used to lament about people who "choose" not to go outfield despite being marked as a soldier. It was easy to pin their decision on a deliberate lackadaisical attitude or just simply a lack of motivation. And precisely so, those are the genuine reasons cited by the servicemen themselves, though more oft than not misinterpreted as a calculated lack of interest in their duties as a means to spite others. But if you search hard and deep enough, the backstories that lay the foundation of their broken verve to serve will become more than just apparent.

How can I blame someone who recognizes that NS is a means to build national defence for a larger cause of protecting his own loved ones when the duty to call compromises on his physical presence against a troubled family landscape? How can I even deign to understand or empathize with someone who, albeit shares the same age as me, has reached a stage in life that demands the maturity of a parent? How could I have been so naive as to think that every soldier can appreciate the irrefutable need for NS while they fight their own shadows and demons against a starkly different social alley?

I have thus learned to reconfigure the way I portray NS to others. Indeed, theoretically and very much ideally, NS is exactly what I had perceived and hoped it would be. But the harsher and bigger truth is that as much as it may be indispensable, it is also unfortunately a blatant waste of time for many individuals. And that is something that is inherent in this conscript system and we cannot lay blame to anyone or anything. What is important is to rise above that flaw and recognize that although NS can be a waste of time, it is also an honorable sacrifice that many have still chosen to undertake despite their preconceived notions of it. And the more they feel that it is a waste of time, the conscious decision to participate in it, even if it is subject to their own discretion, makes it all the more noble and humble a sacrifice.

And that in itself is the true beauty of service.

There is something quaint in the atmosphere of change. There is a longing and wanting for something new, and still an unequivocal fear of reform. Innate in us is a daring spirit that hungers for novelty yet there is a conflicting instinct to treasure the status quo lest we are unexpectedly overwhelmed by a paradigm shift. And so, here I find myself stranded in this very confluence of excitement and anxiety. Yet it is clear that amidst this conflict, my feelings can be so aptly surmised in this one word: lost.

I know not if the coming of the end heralds the start of a new beginning that I will embrace more dearly than the present but alas, such endings can never be foretold without it playing itself out. And frankly, I am lost for words so let's just leave this as such. A hanging thought, dangling by a thread, weaved from strings of memories that shalt not be lost.

Still, there is one final ride and I am definitely excited to board the flight (almost literally).

"To secure peace is to prepare for war." - Carl von Clausewitz

Let's talk about War. Morbid no doubt but equally indispensable for progress, for evolution, for the relentless and inconsiderate pursuit of improvement. And to begin dissecting all things gargantuan in concept, it is most apt to tear everything down with a tinge of irony. Is war truly an inescapable tool utilized to preserve peace, and no more?

If it is true our claim that we train to fight only so that we may never fight, we may very well be chasing our tails in circles. For with such a defensive and noble argument, it may well be impossible to isolate the perpetrator of war should everyone grapple with such a stance. And to give the benefit of doubt to all parties involves, it simply translates to yet another instance of circular logic, a dilemma with no answer, a question of the chicken and the egg from another perspective.

And still it is true. But I would assert that such is a poor characterisation of war, barely encapsulating the elements of chaos and the yearn for excellence.

For victory.

Above all, regardless of reasons pure or insane, humble or incorrigible, war is staged for success and demands the strength and will to triumph. For the matter, no sane individual goes to war for a casual spar with the enemy; they go in hard, they go in furious, and they go in with the intention of coming back alive, burning with the euphoria of victory. No army would devote the amount of resources, material and intangible, for any reason other than victory; for there is no cause as of sheer worthiness as winning.

Victory is a symbol of strength and bears the fruits of one's unmeasured labour. It is a sign of accomplishment and represents all that men hungers after. And in the decisive arena of war, victory is measured like no other. It is a win for the country, for the men and women who stand tall and proud of their identity, for the blood that don't have to run because of the other men you have caused to bleed. And most of all, victory is personal. It is an individual taste of triumph, of attaining your vision, of securing peace.

And so whatever may be the reason we fight, if we have to one day, we will charge on the battlefield knowing that we lust for victory and victory no less. And we owe this not just to the country nor its people, it is a personal testament to our values and purpose that we have to carve out for ourselves.

So it may be that amidst the fog of war we have lost sight of ethics and morality concepts that have defined the good of men, but it must never be that we lose sight of victory. Because at the end of it all, you would have gained a certain clarity behind the shattered glass that was the untainted innocence of a man who has yet to shed blood.

It is a war we fight everyday, internally and without.

And it is a war we need to secure peace with.

To gain victory.

It has been a moderately lengthy hiatus, a distinct lull that sets in almost too rapidly, like the stroke of embarrassment you reel from when you humiliate yourself in public. Things have changed in this interim period, intangible and untraceable elements. And I reckoned it was an ideal time to let these changes go.

I've figured, or to be more precise, refined the way I perceive myself as a soldier. Nothing more than just one in a force of hundreds of thousands, I am nonetheless responsible for the lives of hundreds of thousands--a composite of those under my supervision and naturally the very beings we exist to defend. It is indeed hard to fathom that a lone soldier holds such power and importance in an organization laced with red-tape struggling to keep afloat the torrential downpour of criticism. Time and money are certainly cause for concerns considering the scarcity of resources in this minuscule country where every action has to be backed with careful consideration and calculated risk. But to state, to claim, to profess that the allocation of such resources is not only optimal but indubitably necessary is almost instantly blasphemy to the ears of the common. But I stand, firm, as a single lone unbound soldier, to tell you that these resources have not been spent callously. They have been invested in a worthy cause and people like myself are living testaments to the fruits of the defence system's efforts.

But in understanding the skewed mindsets of many, including personnel who compose the very system they stand for, it is clear that there is a common pre-conceived notion that an individual's effort is insignificant and negligible, insofar that there absence and non-existence will too have a non-impact. Bullshit, just utter.

The mass is only as powerful as the capabilities of its composition, and that boils down to every single last individual--soldier, clerk, storeman, whatever. You don't go around telling the government body that their administrative staff are practically dispensable. Do you actually reckon that the parliament can function without these secondary tasking being assigned to specialised individuals. Indeed, these are specialisations that we are assigned and regardless of how much of a contribution we think we make, the end-state cannot be achieved less our contribution. And by extension of logic, every individual's contribution is equally important. If everybody is inter-dependable, then really nobody is more important than another.

And such a premise doesn't end here in the military, it is a common phenomenon that is unfortunately widespread. The next time someone downplays his/her importance, just send the person home, so that everyone else will feel the repercussions of one less important individual. In saying that, the word important is almost contradictory in nature, being in existence to make people feel important yet concurrently subtly and inexplicitly putting someone else down. In my opinion, the only instances such a word should be employed are 2:

"All of you are important"

"All of you are not important"

Choose your words and beliefs wisely.

It is not natural for butterflies to swoop into your stomach and lay rest weeks, days, hours, minutes before something big that is pending. The imminent rush of danger and unknowing sandwiches you with trepidation on one end and surrealism on the other with a dash of irony on the side. You already know you'll hate it without being there yet I daresay you would forgo anything else just to be there. I'd like to ask under such perturbing circumstances, can we therefore accuse the aforementioned mix of emotions as being utterly irrational and uncalled for? After all, we arousing fear within ourselves for something that we desire on a much deeper level. And who then governs the jurisdiction and holds the purview to decide what shall and what shouldn't be deemed irrational.

The point of contention is really that the use of the word "irrational" here is in reference to the direct opposite of what we would reference to as "rational". To be rational is to do things in accordance to logic and reason and when said logic or reason is tainted or masked by an interplay of other factors, say emotions, personal convictions, etc, then we choose to understand the different (note how I did not use the word "reversed" or "opposite") outcome as "irrational". Is it really?

Because the underlying premise (or preconception as I would see it) is that such emotions or individual beliefs can be characterized as counter-logic and counter-reason. But that cannot always be the case, can it? After all, emotions and thoughts stem forth from the very control centre that generates logic and reason in itself. The pink mass cannot be blamed but it can be attributed for its wealth of knowledge and reasoning. Henceforth, it is safe to say that the so-called interfering elements of rationality do contain a tinge (if not more than a tinge) of logic and comprehensive philosophy. In which case, we cannot downplay the rationality behind acts that are a corollary of their "interference" simply because it is not necessarily true that they compromise on something being rationale. In less convoluted terms and an ostensibly less contrived argument, just because we don't comply to logic/reasoning 100% doesn't make something immediately irrational.

We use the word "irrational" to mean that the rationality of this matter is birthed not completely of pure, untainted logic and reasoning. Instead, it contains a unique touch of emotions and our own ideals that contort and reshape the way we understand things around us. In this manner, something that is said to be "irrational" is not only still rational by way of deduction and logic, it is quaintly so even more humanized, because we have injected our personal touch into the matter.

We claim things to be "irrational" when we cannot choose to understand how others perceive matters in a way different from us. But that's to say there's an underlying presumption that we understand matters the correct way, by logic and by reasoning. But the very same logic and reasoning that governs "rationality" are too formulated by ourselves.

To put it simply (or just slightly less complicated), "rationality" is something we define to describe what we accept and understand of the world around us while "irrationality" is basically everything else that doesn't fit into the picture. And therefore something that strikes all of us as irrational may not necessarily be so. And the very thing you imagine to be rational, could very well be the striking resemblance of irrationality to everyone else.

So don't think so much.

Just do.

It really just hit me. 5 minutes ago? The adrenaline, the unnerving fear, the distant worry and all still the same, the naked indifference standing in the same room.
I guess it really did just hit me, that this is literally all or nothing. I walk in, and walk out with either everything in the bag or just feel everything in the back--the solid agony of knowing your dreams slip you by, waist deep in complete incompetence and utter shambles.

I know it's finally hit me. How much I really want it, yet how uncertain I am of attaining it. Like almost how every kid has that one big fantasy-like aspiration--to become a superhero, to become president of the world, to become an astronaut--and sometimes, just even one time, that aspiration is more than just a silly daydream.


I hate that it hit me and isn't going to stop. This lurch in my stomach, encouraging me, enticing me almost forcefully demanding me to abandon and desert my dreams. But how can I carry on with my head held high knowing I ditched something behind in the most pusillanimous manner? So I will bite the bullet and pray I won't bite the dust.



It's hit and it won't run. This phenomenon has obviously straightened out its moral and ethical beliefs because it's here to stay. To apologise, to provide comfort, to pretend that it is actually concerned when all it wants is to be able to leave in peace, guilt free, as though nothing ever happened.




It's hit and slipping further away.



The hit is real and hard but I know I will face it eventually.


It is a hit I have received and one I will graciously take.

Because it's all coming back now.
One hit, one chance.

Remember the days numbered past,
from old to young and first to last.
We joked about the living dream,
of frosted ice and rich white cream.

We danced the night, away and back,
and still in a blink, my day went black.
I stood up tall, starkly hindered by pride,
that was the day I knew my faith had died.

A quarter went on, a miracle birthed,
around the fragments new hope had girthed.
We tried once more, against all implore,
blinded by the psychedelic garish light galore.

To no man's land, a one man stand,
a withered memory, a bird in hand.
Not quite worth two in bush, of self pity
and measured cries of being too shitty.

One and a half of hiatus came,
the deafening sound of war and blame.
And out of the depths, a new light shone
what was buried in hell is no longer gone.