Instant mee on my mestin tastes just as good

Like most parents, my mum was worried when I was about to enlist for NS more than 20 years ago. She spent sleepless night worrying about her "baby" leaving home for the first time. She worried about the physical training and hardship, about the infamous army food and basically about my well-being. Happily, I came out of NS none the worse for it. In fact, NS has done me, and I dare say most men, good. We learned about discipline, teamwork, physical endurance and yes, even racial harmony. If someone was out of line and had problem with authority, the whole platoon was likely to suffer and all would be punished. Sure, there was resentment against that individual who "sabo" all. But again, it made one mindful of one's action 'cause we knew that our action would result in consequences that would affect every soldier in the platoon.

The army is where all men (well, almost ALL men) learned how to handle their first "wife" - the rifle (sorry Victor, I'm not making fun of you 'cause I remember my new year resolution. LOL). It followed us wherever we went during deployment in the field. Even when we were catching our precious 40 winks, we took pain to ensure that "she" was close to us physically. Woes to the soldier who woke up and found his "wife" missing. He would probably get extra duties (weekend burned) or if the rifle was truly gone (a serious offence), court martial and sent to detention barrack.

On the flip side, we did have lots of fun with our wives rifles. We shot with them, clean them up after each shooting exercise. We were even tested on how fast we could "strip" and "assemble" the wives rifles. Truly and even at the risk of sounding "corny", I do feel that the army is where we boys turned into men, notwithstanding the fact that 18-year-old boys' entry to RA21 movies is still a no-go. Btw, I still couldn't quite get a handle on that ruling. So an 18-year-old is old enough to hold a rifle and kill to protect the country; but ain't matured enough to catch a RA21 movie? Dig that!

In a matter of years, Senior Junior, who's all of 13, would be going down the same path as his Dad and many Singaporean men before him. When that time arrives, I'm sure the Slim Lady (and I) will feel the anxiety the way my mum did. I always tell the Slim Lady - let's not worry so pre-maturely. My mum worried for me and look where I am now?

Fortunately (or unfortunately), life in the army has undergone tremendous changes. So much so that perhaps the worry and anxiety may not be necessary. For instance, the army has reduced the conscript term from 2.5 years to 2 years. The number of ICT has also been cut from 13 to 10 years. Why, it's been said that the next war (if it ever occurs, or has it started already?) would commence from the comfort of the armchair and with a press of a button. It seems life in the army is no longer as tough as it used to be. One begins to worry if it will churn out an army of softies?

It was reported recently that the army has just acquired a portable German-made Mobile Field Kitchens that could whip out chicken rice, nasi lemak, and mee goreng for 500 soldiers within hours. It claims the food is comparable to food-court fares. The Kitchen also provides fresh drinking water and water for shower, besides doing laundry, washing and drying up to 100 sets of uniforms at a time.

Imagine what this nifty gadget could do to the NS chaps having field training? Instead of bathing with talcum powder or going without bath for days during exercises, they can now have a nice shower right in the middle of the jungle. Instead of dry ration or instant mee, they are now served "food-court" food by army chef. And most thankfully, the ritual of digging a hole out in the jungle to cover up their poo may soon be a thing of the past.

Certainly, technologies have advanced our way of life in many ways, including that in the army. Back then, comradeship was forged while cooking instant mee the old-fashion way - a few rocks were simply gathered from the training ground and cleverly arranged like a mini stove. Mestins were used as "wok". Someone would start boiling the water with the mestin. Then someone else would throw in the noodle. And yet another person would open a can of braised pork and threw them all into the mestin. The resulting mee may not taste as delicious as those food churned out by the German machine, but boy did they taste good! The steaming hot noodle in the mestins was the product of our comradeship. What I'm trying to drive at is that technology may not always or necessarily be a good thing.

Of course, to progress, we should embrace technology. But if the army is all comfy, how do we expect our boys to face the eventuality of a war?

I have fond memories of my army days and platoon mates, some of whom were quite a character. Will blog about them one day.

Category: Musings