Fieldcamp this week was rather more memorable than the one we had during BMT, which can probably be attributed to the 'favourable' climate this time round. I'll never forget the hours spent - on two consecutive nights, no less! - late in the night and in the wee hours of the morning, hours spent staring morosely into space as rivulets of water found their way through our seemingly non-existent groundsheet (the waterproof lining was compromised, you see) and soaked me to the core. The frantic scramble to set up shelter in the dark proved to be an exercise in futility. Merciless skies unleashed their fury on us throughout the night, and on the second night, sheet lightning flashed through the sky, followed shortly by resounding roars of thunder, from all around us. We were in the middle of the storm, and atop a hill, furthermore, and were seriously praying and fervently hoping that we wouldn't be the catalyst for yet another safety timeout, yet another condemnation to safety in the SAF.
-TBC First Parade beckons
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I realize what I want isn't for you to like me, or anything like that, but rather to hear from you, for all the good that'll do. Grevious foolishness on my part, that.
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Slipping, sliding, scrambling up the treacherous slopes, yet another downside to hilltop life; panting uncontrollably while making my way up with the fieldpack to setup camp; hoisting the MATADOR across my shoulders, and the occasional trip up after returning from the training shed below, heaving a jerry can - nearly 20kg - along for the journey. Even with rotation it was still freaking tiring. And of course the trips up and down made in the dark, simply hoping not to fall, or that if I fell, that I wouldn't land wrongly and OOC from it.
Hours spent sitting in the mud, trying to make myself comfortable, all kinds of positions; iLBV on, iLBV off, sitting on my rifle, leaning against my fieldpack, lying on my fieldpack, sitting crosslegged, rifle across my knees, so on and so forth, doing absolutely nothing, nothing and waiting, random musings passing through my head, the future, first and foremost, but that for later.
The second night, huddling together under the groundsheet, legs curled into fetal position, donning my Goretex, a source of much comfort, a ward against the shivering. Curled up alongside Yan Seng and Theodore, not saying a word to each other, commiserating in the shared situation.
Section Battle Course, much toned down than previous years, yet messed up nonetheless, conducting Fire Movement up the hill; literally 'chiong sua', hilarious when I was the IC yet unable to climb up as it was too muddy at my location and requiring Janus to clamber up first to offer me a hand, when I was taking too long and the rest were several bounds ahead already. I wasn't the only one who had that problem haha.
And of course the simple act of proning on alert, uncomfortable with the magazines pressing against my abdomen, aggravating already present abrasions. Yet you realize there's a certain trick to it; you fidget a little, try to find the most comfortable position, and simply do-not-move. Rest your helmet against the scope, or your chin against the cheek rest, or various other "styles", and settle in.
And of course, the heat rash, a still-present reminder of the days that passed, prickling me into immobility, forcing a slight tightening of the back, and testing my resolution to keep my hands at bay, to not descent into a fit of frenzied, uncontrollable scratching at an itch which simply refuses to leave me alone. Practically the whole company was afflicted..guess that's what happens when you can't bathe for a few days, and changing into fresh clothes is rendered ineffective due to the constant rain and ever-present moisture.
Abrupt end. Pizza in the bunk is simply heavenly.
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