What am I made of

Our experience today, shape the choices we make tomorrow... And the things (and people) we associate ourselves with tomorrow, depends on the choices we make today...

How many of us are in a profession that follows someone whom we respected in our early years? How many of us pursue things that are 'approved' or 'owned' by someone whom we esteemed? And then, how many of us actually feel some form of connection to those who own something or is in a trade similar to ourselves?

In this world where individuals want to be differentiated with character and style that is uniquely ours, may not like to admit that we're constantly being influenced. I'm no exception; I do have my fair share of struggles to that point, but as I dig deeper into my past, especially when I look back upon my life as I write this blog, I have to admit that things and people whom crossed my life influenced the person I am today, to a very large extend.

It is when we are pushed to our mental, physical and emotional limits that we reveal our truest self; I witnessed the ugliest side of human nature during my 2.5 years of national service in the Army. Selfishness that cares only for one's well being, even if it is at the expense of risking another person's life. Paradoxically, it is also through harsh circumstances that bring the best out of mankind; selflessness that resembles what parents will do for their child. 1 such person that I've encountered is my platoon commander during my BMT (Basic Military Training), LTA Samad.

LTA Samad is kind, but never a pushover, he trained us hard, very hard. He often conducts extra lessons and seemingly unreasonable expectations that we'll curse in the process, but he never left us feeling alone. Whatever he asked from us, he'll do it with us, and twice as much; he'll complete a 100 push-ups, if he made us do 50. If he made us run in skeleton battle order, he'll run in full (battle order). He assumed the position of an elder, wiser brother, lending a pair of listening ears and dishing out advise whenever we run into issues, be it personal or with training. He epitomizes the officer's creed of leading by example and caring for 'soldiers', which still inspires me as the way to treat people today.

LTA Samad at one of the evening 'talks' with the our platoon

During one of the evening 'talks' that he often conducts with the whole platoon after our dinner, I noticed his watch in detail for the first time. In his Army-T and worn-out camouflage slacks, seated with folded arms and revealing the wrist watch he was wearing, a vintage looking military styled Heuer.

Classic Heuer Carrera worn by LTA Samad

That encounter sparked my first interest into serious timepieces, and began my journey into mechanical watch making. Heuer, founded in 1860 was bought over by Techniques d'Advant Garde in 1985, was named TAG Heuer to present. Though it has never been regarded as haute horology even with its illustrious history in fine watch making; introduced the 1st wrist chronograph in 1914, and many subsequent inventions especially in more recent years, a 'Heuer' will always remind me of the "war hero" I look up to.

Not sure if it is a Chinese culture or a family tradition, my parents would give my sisters and I something 'substantial' for our 21st birthday, as a mark of adulthood. My choice would naturally be a TAG Heuer.

My first "luxury" watch;
Discontinued TAG Heuer 1500-series

It has been more than 20 years since; besides the scruffs and scratches accumulated from wearing, I've kept it in excellent working condition. Even though it may seem too small (36mm) in present context and looks too tiny on my 'fatter' wrist now, I'm determined to keep it running "forever"; as a reminder of love and lessons from those who has made a significant impact to my life.

Of course, life experiences varies from people to people, and the permutation of these experiences yield infinite combination, which still result in an unique self of ours. Instead of focusing on our differences, why not begin with understanding each other and foster better relationships by asking, 'what are you made of?' today.

Enduring Crush (Part II)

Time was not on my side, I had only 1 day to do what I needed to; to get the school to accept me as a repeat student, and apply for deferment from National Service at Central Manpower Base (CMPB) with the official acceptance document.

27th March 1993, it was a Saturday morning that I went back to Jurong Junior College to appeal for a chance to be taken in, a second time. The apprehension was overwhelming when I was asked to wait outside the vice-principal office that morning. Thoughts of how to convince my VP occupied my mind completely. And as the seconds jumped on my Citizen D120, my heart pounds harder. Because, even if I succeeded in getting the official documents from the school, I needed to rush to CMPB by noon before it closed. I only had 1 shot, 1 opportunity, to seize something that would be life changing.

The door opened, and I was asked to meet my vice-principal. I can still remember her stern look vividly, scrutinizing my pass academic records as she speak, "So you want me to take you back?" "Yes madam!" I replied spontaneously and continued, "I know I didn't fair well before, because I did not put in my fair share of..." Before I could finished my sentence, she interrupted, "But look at how badly you've done, how do you want me to believe that you'll not repeat history again? And you know what? If I do take you back, chances are you'll bring the ranking of my school down!!" My ego was pushed to rock bottom with those words from her, but I know ego is what I have to throw out of the window that day. After all, I don't deserve to be respected for what I've done, or rather, what I've not done for the school. More pleas from me followed, but were all responded with firm, no(s). At one point, I was prepared to go down on my knees to beg for a chance, and as I bend my knees at the verge of tears, she said, "I can see your sincerity today, but can you promise that you'll not let me down tomorrow if I say yes?" I replied with total conviction, "Definitely definitely! I will not let you and the school down ever again! Thank you madam thank you madam!"

It wasn't a relieve nor excitement when I held those documents dearly in my hand, because my passport to a second chance in life had to get to CMPB before noon to have my application completed. Failure of which will render all my previous efforts, useless. My watch says 11am, exactly an hour before the timeline. I spared no effort to get myself to CMPB as soon as I can, running whenever I wasn't on motorized transportation and, I made it.

Life wasn't smooth sailing from then on, I have to learn the new and re-learn the wrongs, but I was determined. And through it all, my BMT buddy's trust and encouragement has always been my tower of strength when the going gets tough. I earned a place at the National University on my 2nd take at the 'A' levels, and was posted to the Officer Cadet School after my 2nd enlistment to BMT.

People came people went, things stayed things changed. What accompanied me through the multiple school examinations, tormenting military trainings and tests was my Citizen Pro-master Windsurf D120 watch; never missing a beep of reminder nor a tick of time.

Rare photo taken during OCS training
(I am 2nd from left, with the shiny bezel on my wrist)

Overseas training in ROC

Commissioning Parade

Perhaps, just like any relationships, there is never right or wrong; some marriages last a life time from loving at first sight, while others divorce soon after marriage even when they've spent a lifetime knowing each other. Started of as a crush, I am grateful and indebted to my D120 for its faithfulness through some of the toughest days in my life, which I still keep (the watch and those memories) as remembrance till today...

Retired, but always remembered

Enduring Crush (Part I)

It was love at first sight for the Citizen Pro-master Windsurf D120. Though another digital sports watch, it doesn't hint the toughness of G-Shock at all; it wasn't clad in shock dampening resin, neither did it claimed a higher water resistance. 2 major differences I can spot were the bi-directional rotatable bezel that allow windsurfing race course angle alignment, and a wind velocity conversion rule, which were of no use to me. Guess that's the miracle and fallacy of love sometimes.

360 degrees bi-directional rotatable bezel

Velocity conversion: meter per sec./wind knots

It may be a fallacy of how it was chosen, but how it survived along with me through the next 5 years is truly a miracle.

January 1993, I was enlisted for National Service. In Singapore, every male citizen who has completed high school (Junior College/ Polytechnic in Singapore's context) or reaches the age of 18, will need to serve 2.5 years (2 years now) in the military. Training begins with 3 to 5 months of basic military training (BMT) depending on the fitness of individual. After which, enlistees will be posted to various vocation/specialization within the military for further training to be a full fledged soldier, and be deployed to fulfill the remaining duration of service.

I wasn't gifted physically, and I went into National Service with a chronic cough. I had to push myself real hard just to keep up with the training. As one of the weaker trainee, I was given lots of extra sessions, which didn't help the recovery of my irritable lungs. My cough turned from bad to worse till I witnessed traces of blood in my phlegm during my morning wash-up one day. I braved the sickness and continued with training; field camps (where we were taught to dig trenches for defense and lived in basha tents), 16 & 32km road marches, live firing ranges, SOC (Standard Obstacle Course) and battle inoculation courses, I've completed them all.

BMT Field Camp

Battle Inoculation Course

2.5 months into BMT, just when we're ready to take a slew of final tests to certify our competence as a soldier, I fell flat onto the tarmac during one of the passing-out-parade practice; literally, passed out. When I gained consciousness, I recall having my gears taken off me with surrounding medics. One of them declared my blood pressure was 70/50 with high fever, and I was taken to the medical center immediately. It was a Friday, and we were supposed to 'book-out' that evening to spend the weekend out of camp. The medical officer whom I consulted wasn't convinced that my illness was genuine and chronic, insisted that I should stay in the medical center till my fever subsides. He prescribed paracetamol along with some common cough syrup and sent me to an available bed.

Every hour, the medic on duty will take my temperature. It was a straight line 39 degrees Celsius ever since I was admitted, and there were no signs of improvement with rest and medication. As if things couldn't get worse, I was asked to perform toilet cleaning duties using antiseptic detergent. The fumes given out by the detergent's reaction with water choked me so badly; if not of me squatting down when I sensed that I was 'greying out', I would have lost my consciousness, again. I knew I had to find a way to get myself out for a proper treatment.

I timed the medic's visits, rinsed my mouth with cold water prior, in the hope to "lower" my temperature. It was a fine balance; too cold will give away my trick and risk punishment, and otherwise, will not get me what I wanted. I choose to err on the safe side. 1st try, 38.7 degrees C. 2nd try, 38.0. 3rd try, 37.6; all accomplished using my D120 to time the duration of cold water in my mouth, and the lapse time from that to each medic's visit. 5th try, 36.9! I nailed it! 3 subsequent measurements of 37, I was given the green light to discharge by the medical officer.

Just when I thought I'm on my way home that Saturday morning, I'm presented yet another challenge. It is mandatory to book out of camp in 'smart 4' (a full camouflage uniform with folded sleeves), but I was in 'PT kit' (T-shirt and shorts) during my stay in the medical center, I wasn't allowed to leave the camp. Bunks were locked and completely vacated.

I ran around looking for the officer on duty, hoping that he keeps the keys to our bunk, only to discover that he is only responsible for the general offices and common areas. Those keys to the bunk were under the safe keeping of our company's officers, whom by then, have all left the camp. I resorted to finding among those who are staying back on guard duties, someone who is of similar size as me, and beg for his spare uniform. One of them was kind enough to lend me his after hearing my story. He even gave me some coins in case I have to call my family when I'm out of camp. Yes, I did not have a single cent with me, and mobile phones (also known as 大哥大) back then were reserved for the privileged few. Public coin phones were still the main mode of "mobile" communication. I couldn't recall the name of this kind gentleman, but his grateful deeds will always be remembered.

Pulau Tekong, 2BTS (2nd Basic Training School) was where I did my BMT. It is an island North-East of Singapore, reserved primarily for military training. I was in Camp 1, approximately 3km from the only jetty anyone can be ferried back to mainland Singapore. Under the scorching sun, my fever must have peaked. I marched in quick steps and a heavy heart.

I can still recall so vividly, the scene of the island disappearing smaller and smaller as I was being ferried away from it on a bumboat. Uncontrollable tears dwelled in my eyes, a tinge of self pity from my struggles out of malignant.

Bumboat from Pulau Tekong to Changi Jetty

I told my dad what happened briefly over the phone, he appeared in person soon after, and rushed me straight to the hospital where I was diagnosed with pneumonia after a chest x-ray. I was admitted immediately, and spent the next 5 days in the ward, under antibiotic drips and phlegm extraction procedures.

When I got back to camp, I did the SOP (Standard Ops Procedure) to have my medical certificate endorsed. Seeing the medical officer (MO) again, he gave me that smirk look of disbelief followed by a slew of criticism. That was the Singapore Armed Forces then, and I do not resent the MO; because of their experience with many enlistees finding ways and means to get themselves medically excused from training and ultimately, excused from the Army altogether, that's why their behavior...

The physical state I was in after recovering from pneumonia.
On my wrist was the Citizen Pro-master D120,
which I used to time my 'escape' from the medical center.

And then, it was the time when 'A' level results will be released. Coming from neighborhood schools, I wasn't gifted academically as well. Yet strangely, I was posted to be with the scholar platoon in BMT! On the actual day of result release, my entire platoon was given the permission to return to our respective Junior Collages to collect our results. Upon return, I witnessed the full spectrum of emotions on my comrade's faces; joyful, relieved, nonchalant, sad, depressed. Having failed mine terribly, I was hoping to seek comfort by approaching the depressed. I asked 1 of them, "Why are you so sad? How did you fair?" He replied, "3 As and a B, no distinction for both special papers. I'm not going to make it to medicine faculty I've been working so hard for..." 

If 3 As and a B is something to weep for, I was really curious to find out what 'happiness' is; I approached one of the joyful ones, and he answered, "2 As and 2 Bs! Happy because it is good enough for medicine faculty." "Wait a minute." I asked, "Our friend over there who scored 3 As and a B believe he is not good enough to read medicine, yet you are sure you'll be accepted?" He explained, "Oh, I'm privileged to have my parents and grandparents as medical doctors themselves. With the affiliation, I'm pretty sure I'll be accepted."

Life is not fair, but at least for myself, I know it is fair for the amount of effort (or rather the lack of it) I've put into my course work; I deserve failing. At that point in time, it suddenly hit me that I've wasted 2 years in Junior College without earning myself the certification; I set myself 2 years back as an overaged 'O' level graduate. There isn't many options opened to me, and my parents can't afford to send me to oversea colleges. The feeling of lost and fear was overwhelming. As I stared into the blank, tears started rolling down the corner of my eyes. My buddy, Kong Mun Wai noticed my expression and asked, "Are you ok? How's your results?" I whispered, "2 Ds and a E, I couldn't even get a full 'A' level certificate..." After some comforting words, he encouraged me to disrupt from National Service and go back to school, give myself a second chance and retake the examinations. As we studied the same subjects, he even offered to tutor me over the weekends whenever he is out of camp! Weekends are the most precious thing to a National Service man, they are priceless to the point that it's often used as a threat by trainers to put us on our toes, yet my buddy is willing to sacrifice his for me!

My BMT buddy, Kong Mun Wai (left).
Even though we've lost contact, and I
couldn't find him on any social media,
his name, kindness and encouragement
will always be remembered.

His gesture marks the 1st turning point of my life; the concept of selflessness and responsibility. I vouched, I'll never waste any (second) chance if I'm given one, because what I receive will always be at the expense of someone else's opportunity; a privilege that should never be sacrificed in vane.

Lives move on quickly for the rest of my platoon mates; all of them pass-out from BMT with promising futures ahead. Not able to 'graduate' from Junior College and BMT, as I could not complete the military tests while I was hospitalized, I was the only one left behind. Sad it might be, but it is also one of the most memorable time of my life; the experience of true friendship and brotherhood, Mun Wai taught me precious lessons and philosophy which I carry with me till today. Life is never about us and our achievements, it is what we can do to better someone else's life that brings true meaning to living...