Just as we always thought how moving into the next phase of life would foresee a change of elements, you can never comprehend what life hurls at you. School was full of tests, assessments, assignments and appraisals. Never knew how I could be facing that even when I'm serving the nation. Same old, same old. Was initially tasked to produce an essay titled "My Defining Moment in BMT" but being a self-proclaimed taichi master of the highest echelons, I managed to transfer my "qi", no responsibility, to another platoon mate. Like come on, he's from New Zealand. His accent alone is enough to blow the competition off the radar. 

Anyway, being the forlorn author of my autobiography, here's my version of my defining moment. You know how field camp is always referred to as the main highlight, crucial event and crux of our training? They have never been so right. It all started when we were supposed to march 12km to our field camp site. All hope was lost when we completed up to the 8km mark and the skies turned for the worst. Our hopes turned to despair when we were told that we would have to redo the entire distance again when we return. Never would we have known that was just the tip of the iceberg. Upon reaching the field camp site, our first task was to erect our tentage, something we have only attempted pathetically and failed miserably countless times. Furthermore, the ground conditions were atrocious, as our tent pins simply refused to be driven into a land full of rocks. However, the worst condition was that it was a slope we were on. When the torrential rains were upon us beginning on the second night, our belongings never stood a chance. The subsequent nights were just as absurd, with the intervals of threatening rain comparable to the pixels on this screen. On the fourth day, we barely accomplished 2 hours of sleep before the unforgiving waters from heaven irrigated into the shellscrapes we spent an entire day to create. Our days were filled with the hated task of putting on face camouflage, rolling in mud and having our uniforms caked in sludge. When even the dreaded heat rash came upon us, there was nothing the medic could do to relive us of the merciless imaginary needles stabbing us from behind. Every single movement simply gave rise to more discomfort, more aches and more pain. However, we all knew but were never prepared for what comes after: our parents' letters. Even the strongest of our lot could not hold back the tears, the homesickness, our duty towards the nation and our fathers' sacrifices for our nation and families. At the end of our situational assessment tests spanning two days, we couldn't control our happiness and jubilation when the our transport arrived. We were finally going home. It suddenly dawned on us that these days of misery were finally over. Going back to our company line, we would not even bat an eyelid to sit on the wet basketball court, or even lie down on it, because we know that we had it worse. All I could say was that those few days of seeming eternity had placed our views into a whole new  lens of perspective, allowing us to realise that we must never take all the things we relied on and depended on for granted ever again. And the only way we prevent that is by sustaining our sovereignty and taking our nation's defence in our own hands.