It's been a long and arduous journey for the past 22 months. Many highs and lows that define the whole National Service experience, but I would say that more good came out of it than bad. Basic Military Training or BMT phase was the most memorable time of these two years, hands down.

I remember:

Taking NAPFA in Year 3 of Poly, getting A for all the static stations but yet clocking 15 minutes for the run because I gave up after two rounds.

On enlistment day, queueing up to board the bus and being forced to tuck in my shirt by the sergeants facilitating.

Having quite a feast at the cookhouse, even having ice cream, which was meant to be a "show" for the parents because we never had a duck drumstick again since then, but having no appetite.

Scanning my Pink IC and it did not occur to me that I will never see it again in these 2 years.

Collecting the black duffel bag and lugging it four storeys to my allocated bunk.

Getting my phone cables, Panadol and other medication confiscated on the first day.

Taking $2 out of my wallet for the haircut. (And then comparing whose hair was nicer when we all looked the same. Half an inch was considered a world of difference back then.)

Going into the platoon office on the second day and Sergeant J told me that he expected me to get into command school. Thanks for the pressure, Sarge.

Taught how to fold the Smart Four to make our biceps look bigger by our PS.

Struggling while learning the correct way to tie the bootlaces.

Folding the perfect Smart Four and shining our boots to its full grandeur before every book-out. Not forgetting the last-minute pull-ups for confidence sake.

Counting down the days during confinement period, which was 18 days. Longest ever period of time away from home. 

Tearing at the staircase the night before the first book-out because no one was available to pick me up at the bus interchange.

Looking for S whenever Wes and I were at the bus interchange for book-in on Sunday night.

Sunday mornings were the worst because I knew I had to book in at night. 

Haze period and we were forced to stay in bunk the entire week. The foggy parade square, the physical training held at the lift landings, the boredom that led us to read newspapers from front to back and even the adverts, the issue of hand sanitisers to every bunk.

Logging onto Facebook and everyone would be stalking each other's sister, girlfriend, friend etc and saying "Eh, intro leh!" We were all desperate army boys.

Squeezing hand sanitiser on crushed newspaper and creating fireballs by lighting them on fire. What were we thinking then?

Getting punished by holding the push-up position outside the platoon office until everyone is done with their PC interview. 

Taking the lift up to the fourth floor when no commanders were looking.

Buying canned drinks up to the bunk when no commanders were looking.

Running for our lives up the stairs to shower after every physical training session.

Collapsing and almost blacking out during Individual Field Craft (IFC) due to the lack of water and immense fatigue. From tearing down and building the basha too many times in the hot sun.

Totally abhorring the camo cream because it stings the eyes. And also because it never seems to dry due to excessive perspiration. And always having to touch up camo.

Hating every time there was IPPT because I would get butterflies in the stomach from the pressure of having to do better. And clocking 10:36 and a Silver for my final IPPT.

Running the coastal road and complaining about the fishy smell while running.

Doing aqua-jogging in the pool and teasing the others who couldn't swim.

Being afraid of the balancing beam in the SOC because I am flat-footed.

The countless route marches and how we always lose track of the distance. And the steam that can be seen leaving our bodies when we remove the LBV.

Contemplating whether to wear contact lens for range because the darn spectacles keep getting fogged up and making me miss my shots.

Hating the squatting /kneeling position of firing, because again, I am flat-footed.

Doing guard duty at ammo dump and sleeping in the aircon bunk. And the pitch-black darkness we had to patrol in.

Hearing the Platoon Commander talk about his JCC days in the jungles of Brunei. And wanting to do the same by getting into the Infantry Officer Cadet Course.

Getting second in Captain's Ball for the inter-company Games. And all the hate on Kestrel because they played a tad too rough.

Getting heat rash during Field Camp was one of the worst feelings. I wanted to remove my uniform to continue to dig the shellscrape because my pores were all clogged with dirt.

Digging the shellscrape and taking ages to do it. (I finished another one in OCS in just 30 minutes.) 

Being taken to the beach near the field camp site and for once, relaxing during field camp.

Trying to avoid doing Number Two in outfield but succumbing on the fourth day.

Trying to catch up with the assessor during SIT test. How do they always manage to walk so fast? We had to run to even catch up with them.

Doing the SIT Test and trying to "blow up" the bridge with explosives when the assessor said detonation failed. Then I said use the Matador, but he said that failed too. THEN WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO BLOW IT UP WITH??? After that, he just said: "Let's go." Does that mean he has no idea too?

Camo-ing on again as punishment for removing our camo without instruction on the last day of field camp.

Booking out after field camp and becoming so dark that even S noticed.  

Doing our first 24km route march and getting so happy when we could see the Singapore Flyer. And we slept at the F1 Paddock. And getting calls of "ORD lo!" while we were marching through East Coast Park.

And so, that concludes the best moments in BMT. Up next would be OCS - Service term.