Life is Winderful...sometimes.

I've got a bit of time on me hands so y not a spot of writing to perk up the ole knobby aye? Just watched Layer Cake, again, can't help meself wit duh slang if ya noe wa' eye meen?

Roite, back to business. Writing, yes, been thinking about this particular tale for quite some time now. And since I got myself the lappy, I'd rather type on it than on my ash-crusted keyboard. I ought to get a new keyboard. And a webcam. God knows how much Bb wants to see me in motion.

Yeah, sorry, I'm digressing again. My tale:-

Andy's Collection of Pseudo-Complete Stories #02

You know how boys love to talk about life during their NS times don't you? Girls do. They know it so well they listen and try to understand everytime their blokes blab about 'em.

You've got no freakin' idea what goes on behind those walls do you?

Just like how army brats try to explain how bad it is to live in a forest (maybe not those in S'pore, but think of...exotic Thailand or oriental Taiwan.) for a week to the ex-polizei or our hose-carrying counterparts.

They just won't get it. Cos how the hell does one live in a forest?

Rather unsightly if I should say so myself. If I had a dollar for every time I've heard, "Ni kalau mak aku nampak aku macam gini, meleleh air mata dia tau." I'd be quite well-off now.

But I'm not sharing that particular tale, my friends. Instead, this happened in the safe sanctuary that is my camp.

~

The unit had finished training in Paradiso Mandai and everyone's itching to get back (literally), even the officers. After the eventful 5-day stay in our not-so-dense tropical jungle, everybody could not wait for the last bit of routine before lights off that Friday night.

After inspecting the last of my men's weapons, I decided to do some last minute checking on their equipment. You can never tell what very tired soldiers would do to get away from equipment maintenance. But never to disappoint their Section Commander, all the lads did their jobs.

I almost felt bad questioning their integrity, but a leader does what he has to do. And that is to check, ensure and check again.

"Lights off in 30mins. Make sure everyone bathes and be up by 0530 for breakfast," said Sgt Andy, giving the last few instructions.

"There'll be a Unit 5BX at 0700 so...come on, don't act stunned ok? I know you're all tired, I'm tired, everyone's tired. You know your CO right? Just make sure your area cleaning is done before that. Fall-in in PT attire by 0645. And yeah, book-out is at 1000hrs. You can smile now."

And smile he did as he began passing down the information. Sgt Andy would not supervise them. He doesn't need to. Leaving at 1000hrs tomorrow is as good a motivation as any other to guarantee a job well done. Why the hell not when the book-out time is the earliest we'd ever been given.

"So where the fuck is it?! Do you think I told everyone to check their fucking equipment every fucking time is to fucking train my vocal chords?! Do I look like a fucking singer?! Do I?! And why the FUCK did you not tell me this before I report to the RQ ? Or before we left the training site? Why now? So what do you expect me to do now? Hold my fucking balls and hope your shit appears?! Huh?"

The roar was all too familiar. I knew it was going all too well. The unfortunate victim this time happened to be the old bird of the company. Our company medic. He happened to be my CSM's favourite target board. ORD-ing in 6months (compared to us, we had a year more to go) but still doing his job like a freakin' noob. Fucking blur I tell you. Always missing this and that. Everytime. And everyone has to clean his shit for him. Serves him right this time.

"And what the fuck are you all looking at? If I see anymore faces outside, or lights still on by the time I count to five, I'll make sure you're all ready for another insertion tomorrow morning!"

I didn't realize it but everyone had been looking at my CSM screaming his ball off. We were like spectators in an arena. But every good thing comes to an end sooner or later and no sooner than my Encik had said, "...morning!..." Every head bobbed down and every bunk was dark.

It's not that we're scared of him, we're just terrified of the little devil. No taller than my chest, he is but all muscle. Already in his late 30s, he can swim 100m with 1 arm before I could reach 25 with both.

And nobody messes with Little Master (Master being his nickname. He has it sown on his jungle-hat you see. On account of his cute size, I had to add in the Little part). What he says, he means. And courting the devil's wrath is never a good thing.

We know too well because we didn't think he'd have the balls to do whatever he had said but he'd ever made us stay in camp for 1 extra night when the rest of the unit booked out the day before. We did not do our area cleaning properly (according to his beyond-humanlike standards) and when the Sgts tried to negotiate that there wouldn't be food indented for us if we stayed; being the resourceful master that he is, out came the combat rations.

Now, staying-in when everyone else gets to book-out is already unpleasant. But staying back in the company of combat rations? That's offensive!

We were not going to let that happen again. Ever.

Those who finished bathing had to crawl to get back to their bunks because Little Master (@ LM) does not want to see heads popping up above the parapet or outside the bunks. The rest who hadn't had to bathe in the dark. And the silence, my god, here we are grown men, whispering to each other like little girls trying to pass down information or instructions for the next day. Even the Sgts were not spared!

It took quite some time before LM finally made his way to his own bunk. A block just behind ours. And I waited for him to do just that before walking to the showers. No way am I going to duck-walk my tired ass to the toilet. Safer to ensure the coast is clear before displaying my rebellious side.

I took my time in the loo. I had not shit for 3 whole days and God only knows if I'd shat a diamond with all that squeezing and straining. And let me tell you, imagine the most vulgar smell you'd ever tasted and multiply that by your age. That's halfway where you'd be if you're in a toilet with up to 5-day-old excrements that had just seen the light of day. From about 20 smelly men. In only 3 toilets. If I had lit a fag (which I did anyway. Carefully tho.) I was afraid the methane built up might blow up my ass.

But my ass's too caked with mud and grime that the flames would've felt like a nasty fart anyway.

Its almost 2am by the time I walked proudly back to bunk clad in only a towel. Everyone was asleep by then and I could take my time to do whatever I wanted before sleep took me in.

Called Bb up and chatted with her for awhile at the staircase beside my bunk. Listening to her voice always made me want to run out from the gates whenever book-out time. I was stubbing my cigarette out when I heard a soft moan coming from above.

Now, any sane boy would quickly move his ass back to the safety of his bed and immediately snuggle up under the sheets after hearing moans in the staircase in the middle of the night. Moans and sniffles in an army camp at night is never a good combination. Screams and shouts, yes, but never moans.

But I didn't cower like a wuss, because the voice wasn't girly nor was it scary. In fact it made me curious. Why? Who the hell knows. I made my way upstairs towards the sounds.

As I came up to the fist landing, I saw amidst the low light (the staircase landing lights were off - thanks to LM nobody wanted to take any risks) a small stream of water down the side of the staircase. Probably someone cleaning their shit. Must get the boys to dry this off tomorrow; I made a note to myself.

By this time the sounds became more human and I heard feet shuffling from two flights up. I took two steps at a go to quicken my pace. It didn't take long before a familiar figure took shape.

It was BC medic. My Blur Cock company medic. The dude was crying his balls off in nothing but his underwear with a half-empty bottle of Johnny Walkers set beside his feet and a bag, which I can almost tell to be his medical supplies, to his side. And he must have pissed himself silly cos everywhere's wet.

The Cock is drunk! Hah! He must be crying from all that scolding he got from LM. Freakin wuss, I thought. We're lucky LM didn't make us go back to Mandai and look for his shit. I shook my head and almost climbed down when I noticed that he did not even notice I was there. Pretty odd when I am pretty sure he could hear me coming up. The least that inconsiderate dick could do was lift his head up and see who's coming?

His cries were muffled as he hid his face underneath his folded arms which rested on his bent knees. But one arm was hanging out. As if begging for alms. And what was that sticking out behind his elbow?

It was then as I took a closer look that everything became clearer. Cock had conveniently used his IVs to draw blood from the back of his elbows. And that water I had first noticed on the side of the staircase was his blood! Flowed from 3 flights up!

I took a closer look at my feet and confirmed my observations. This guy had been here for quite some time now trying to drain his life away. And boy was it a lot of life flowing from the dude.

Cock looked up and his eyes met mine. I froze. His face was ghastly white. With his face smeared in mucus, and blood and who knows what else, he started to wail louder; upturned lips mumbling something I could not make out.

He began displaying his bloodied elbows and tried squeezing his biceps. This guy wants it to end quick. The pain must be getting to him, with alcohol or not.

I gained back my composure and called out to him, "BC, what are you trying to do?" I tried sounding assuring and calming but the nickname was a dead giveaway and I almost broke into a smiled thinking how ironic my sentence must have sounded without the abbreviation.

But I sincerely wanted to help and as much as I hate him, I couldn't just leave him there. I must reach his frequency. I took my seat to his right.

"You ok not? Why you do such thing?" The answers were freakin apparent by now but I had to get him to talk. To calm himself down and speak sensibly.

"Everyone hates me Sarge, EVERYONE! Especially Encik!Even my girlfriend hates me. She just leave me because she cannot wait anymore. I want to die, Sarge. Please let me die. I promise her that if she go I will kill myself." BC explained in between more sniffling and tears.

I choked back a spit. I could now smell the blood and it was starting to get to me. I also started to feel a bit guilty hearing those words straight from the man himself.

"Ok, you have to calm down. Think about it. You must love that girl a lot right? If you are gone, how are you going to win her heart back?" I was amazed at where those words came from. Moving the bottle of whisky aside, I shuffled closer and put an arm on his shoulder. I looked at him like any concerned parent would.

He started to cry even more. Maybe I was getting some sense into the suicidal prick? This is good I thought, he still has some sense left in that loopy head of his.

Trying to console him further I said, "BC, I have to bring you to a doctor ok?"

"No! wait he...wait he...send me to DB. NO! I rather die than go jail!"

"Don't worry, I will help you. I will say that you are under a lot of stress. They will understand la. Don't worry k BC? I help you ok? You wait awhile."

Before he could answer, I got up and cimbed down the stairs to my bunk. Time to get reinforcements.

Waking up my other 3 bunkmates, I summarized what happened the past 5 minutes as quickly as I could and told them to just keep him calm while I get hold of the big-tiny man himself.

Little Master. He needs to know first and foremost.

It didn't take very long for him to open his door and his ever-piercing eyes made my 6ft frame look all of 6 inches. But he must have realized that for me to wake him up so late at night must be of some urgency. I quickly told him of BC's last supper with the IV needles and Johnny Walker.

LM told me to tell BC to meet him downstairs immediately. For a second there I almost told him that that would be a very bad idea considering the tongue-lashing he did on BC a few hours before and that he had played a part in BC's late rendezvous with the Reaper. But who was I to argue eh?

So I scrambled back up my block to meet the awkwardly-sleepy-counsellors on the 3rd floor. They managed to get BC to speak more calmly now. And I laid down the news as softly as I can.

Incredibly, BC did not even bat an eyelid. He knew it was coming. He knew we had to tell someone on top fast and he also knew who that someone was.

I brought him to the toilet to clean his wounds. We were halfway done when we heard LM shouting for BC.

"Corporal BC...come down now!" LM was loud for us to hear but not enough to wake everyone up.

Good job I thought, last thing we need is for the rest of the boys to see this.

I accompanied BC to LM and quickly excused myself. I wasn't running away, but I knew there was some major cleaning up to do. And my bunkmates were already armed with buckets and mops by the time I joined them.

Last I heard of BC was that he was transferred to HQ to serve out the rest of his days in NS. As a clerk. I never knew what LM and BC talked about that night. I didn't bother because as far as I was concerned, I believed I did my part. As a person as well as a soldier. As for LM, despite what happened, he was never one to disappoint cos he never did change his hard old-skool military ways.

Life is fragile. Even more so the mind.

I sometimes wondered what would happen if I had just ignored BC and left him there all by himself. Would he die? Would it be my fault? And best of all - Would I feel guilty about it?

The choices you make determine where you are right now. But for some some, it may determine others.