Tuesday, April 7, 2020

My National Service Days 1981 - 1983 ; Basic Military Training ; Chin Up Torture

My Detachment No. 4 ; Callsign 34 F4 

L to R : LCP Goh Gek Piao, LCP Loh Hwee Chuah, Me, LCP Tan Beng Chong, LCP Yeo Ah Seng


I was enlisted to serve in our National Service (NS) from 26th December 1980 till our Run Out Date (ROD) of somewhere in May 1983. 

I had just turned 18 years, and 1 month, and was called up. Lucky me. No deferrments, no medical boards where the less than healthy 18 year old boys were checked for physical impairments or congenital defects. A good friend I know Au Mun Heng and my cousin Rick Phoon were totally exempted from NS as they had heart 'murmur' or one aortic valve did not close properly.

Me ? I was 'only' severely myopic and apart from that, I was classified as PES 'A' which was fit enough for combat duty. Suffice to say, the 2 and a half years were one of the defining moments of my life, and I served out the service as a 3rd Sergeant. My last posting during 'active' days was in the 46th Singapore Armoured Regiment then located in Sungei Gedong Camp all the way South East of the island some 45 minutes by car.
The first 12 weeks were called Basic Military Training (BMT) for us new recruits. We all had the 'botak' hair cut, the automatic shaver cutting off our wavy locks or Bangs. The Bald Look made every recruit look the same. Like tortoises staring out of our thick glasses. The rationale for shaving the hair off our heads (at least for the 12 weeks) was that we would be wearing a helmet and be rigorously exercising in the hot sun some 8 - 10 hours a day. Our heads would heat up like  hot potatoes :). Every night, in the camp, before we had 'Lights Out' we would have a Water Parade where all of us recruits (40 to a platoon) had to drink 1 full plastic cup (some 300 ml) of water.

The logic was to cool our bodies down, and prevent 'heat stroke'. I still practice drinking 2 cups of water at the start of each day. I also squeeze half a lemon into the cup, as this apparently cleanses the liver and detoxifies the body. 

My son Andrew's enlistment first day at Pulau Tekong 10 weeks BMT on 4th October 2017

The 12 weeks BMT  training was held at Terror Camp in Sembawang, I have driven past it of late, and it is now a vehicle camp for supporting the brigade. The 12 weeks were physically tough. I had great stamina to run, but my arms were weak like a girl's (no disrespect to those fierce MMA fighters), so the greatest challenge I had before each meal was to summon the strength to do as many chin-ups as possible. That was the precondition each and every recruit had to perform, do as many chinups as you can before you can go to the cookhouse to eat your breakfast, lunch or dinner. The absolute minimum was 1.

Chin-ups are essentially stomach core and whole body exercises whereby you pull yourself from a hanging position under the bar till your chin literally crosses above the bar.

At the start of my BMT, I couldn't even do a single chin-up. Yes, I started at 0. By the end of the 12 weeks, I had lost weight (over 20 pounds, I am serious) and gained muscle that I could muster 6 chin-ups relatively easily.

The motivation to do chin-ups were like this. Chin Ups were conducted by the NCOs before each meal, you had to do at least 1 ; so if you didn't you would hang there and the whole platoon would look at you like you were the worst idiot who held up the remaining 39 for their breakfast, lunch or dinner. So I learnt pretty quickly not to 'sabotage' the entire platoon and trained so very hard, with my mates help by pushing my backside up and slowly I got the hang or the coordination right. 

You start by using your upper arms, the biceps, and then your core muscles will tighten to jerk you upwards. You then glide over the chin-up bar. That is counted as 1 chin up.

In my case, I was a clumsy recruit, so the first one, I always 'cheated' by jumping up from the side base, and getting over the first chinup. The eagle eyed NCO or corporal would pull me down and shout 'No count' recruit.    

So I would then hang forlornly under the bar, like some pathetic puppy denied his biscuit, look up at the bar as the goal and will my puny arms and flabby stomach to get over the bar.

It was horrendous, the first few weeks, when I managed to clear one, I was allowed to go to the cookhouse for my meal, and we all had like only 10 minutes to collect the messplate from the rack, queue up for our food, wolf it down, drink some tea or milo, wash the messplate and show it to the Duty NCO for cleanliness inspection and then assemble back at the barracks all in 10 minutes.

I recall throwing up most of the meals I ate in those days. The strenuous chinup had me out of breath and with absolutely no appetite. Eating the cookhouse food those days was like eating something inedible and shoving it down your throat. Then slurping some black tea or milo and then rushing back to the barracks for some serious training either in the parade square or in the jungles adjoining to the camp. So, the combination of throwing up, and profuse sweating from those 12 weeks resulted in my losing 10 kg or over 20 pounds.  

To be honest, after those 12 weeks, I looked pretty good. 

I was a rather plump teenage kid. The Army changed me to a man.  

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