It must have been really tough on them. Underneath the scorching sun, nary a shade in sight. Forced to go through lessons that, in their eyes, were nothing more and else than abstract. Learning how to be something so totally new and totally strange, learning things that baffled their better senses.
It must have been really uncomfortable for them. Spending practically the whole day sweating. And as if that was not bad enough, denied the privilege of a bath. Or even a daily change of clothes. When it finally rained on the 4th day after a three-day long threat, the mud that oozed out of the ground was menacing. Everywhere they turned, as they pivoted upon that demoralising, fearful spot, they were greeted with a snarling taunt.
Humans like to be clean. With rebellious 5 year olds who refuse to take their baths as an exception, human like to be clean. You may be profoundly tired, but even then there has to be this struggle, this immense dilemma, to choose desperately between sitting down and drenching your skivvies with muddied water or further denying your legs this searingly deserved chance to rest.
They must have been tired. 6 unforgiving days, and then some nights. Digging trenches through a good part (and for some, the whole part) of the night. Sleeping on hard, bumpy ground, a far cry from pocketed spring.
They must have been under so much pressure. Trying their best to contain everything into this crummy little pack, to move fast and decisively, to look not only after themselves in this strange new environment, not only after their buddies, but after all their platoon-mates. To be on this ever constant state of readiness, water bags full, camo on, rifle to be slung this particular way and not that. And all this under the knowing and cynical watch of the worst creatures they have ever known and met, these Third Sergeants who can at times be so friendly and brotherly but at others so diabolical and sadistic. Arty drills. Sniper drills. Endless punishments for offences.
But they took it. They took a look at our standards, our expectations and what we demand from our soldiers. They took a look, struggled, but gave us no reason to believe that the men of 3 Guards 13th Mono will not meet them in the future.
Murder, he wrote. At
5/24/2007 12:18:00 pm
Sunday, May 13, 2007
!!
I am principally pissed!
For the first time in four seasons, the first time I'm not taking it for granted (as Justin so precisely noted ), after a whole series of heart-in-mouth moments......
I won't be able to watch the trophy presentation.
And it's all because I have to book in sunday nights. What an outrage! Especially taking into account the meagre weekend that the whole company had, what with booking out at 7pm on a saturday night. Stupid recruits, stupid hand grenades, stupid Tekong. AND the whole of my coming weekend will be spent at (guess where?) The Island conducting Field Camp!
And thereby missing the FA Cup Final.
Bother...
Murder, he wrote. At
5/13/2007 09:23:00 pm
.I AM
. Gabriel
. OUT of the Army
. Waiting to prove himself
