I remember my enlistment day, April 19th 2010. It was over 15 months ago. (Now over 2 years ago!) I remember going to Pasir Ris with my parents and girlfriend, meeting my friend and his father at the McDonald’s at White Sands. I remember what I was wearing that day. I remember taking the ferry together, giving up my pink IC, looking around and seeing the other guys who were enlisting at the same time.

I remember the grizzled Company Sargeant Major addressing us (Master Sargeant Winston Pang!), and the culture shock I experienced at hearing his tone of voice. I remember the letters my girlfriend wrote to me, one for each day (I read all on the first day, which pissed her off quite a bit). I remember waiting to get our equipment, I remember struggling with using the duffel bag’s wheels, perhaps because I was too tall to drag it along comfortably. I remember meeting my bunkmates. I remember the Tekong heat. I remember how stiff my boots were, making it incredibly awkward to walk down the stairs in them. (My boots are wonderfully comfortable and seasoned now.) I remember waking up extra early in the morning in the freezing cold to have an ilicit cigarette in the toilets (we were technically only supposed to smoke during our official smoke breaks.) I remember playing checkers with my bunkmates, putting up a funny skit with the theme “Little Red Dot”. I remember the hilarious insurance talk, filled with more dirty humour and sex jokes than anything else I’d ever experienced before. I remember my friend spilling bad, tasteless tea on my running shoes. I remember going home on Friday, struggling with the duffel bag on the bus.

I remember going to my new unit, intimidated at being the only guy posted there. I remember feeling another sort of culture shock upon realizing how laidback everybody was. I remember struggling to communicate effectively with my peers, I remember how harsh and imposing my boss’s mannerisms were. I managed to adapt, as I’ve always I remember being been able to. I became fairly good friends with everyone. I got into the swing of things. I remember going for my Storeman course at Sembawang camp, having to travel by train, changing from the green line to the yellow and then to the red. I remember going to camp alone before midnight, having a smoke and a beer at the Specialist’s Mess before going to bed alone in an incredibly dusty bunk. I remember long hours alone in my store, teaching myself to draw, and to sleep comfortably on the cold floor. I remember hiding and smoking at the back of a tonner. I remember sleeping at the back of a pickup truck as we headed across the country.