One Hell of a Summer

My colleague recently went on reservice training. All Singaporean guys are called by the government to go on military “reservice” training once in a while where they are taught how to be soldiers so that they would know how to defend their country just in case it went to war. I have to say, their reserve units system is certainly better than ours, where CAT and ROTC students are supposedly on reserve but how on earth are they supposed to help fight a war… by marching the enemies to death? Or maybe twirl their swords and wooden rifles with such impressive skill that its awesomeness kills the bad guys?

I used to be a CAT officer. I didn’t really intend to be one, but the summer before we turned high school seniors, my then bestfriend Imee decided that she wanted to sign up. That time, she and Lyn and I did everything together, to the point that our classmates called us “the tres marias” and joked that “iisa lang ang kanilang bituka” (we shared one intestine). So Lyn and I signed up too.

What followed was probably my most hellish 30 days ever. Every April and May, all schools in the Philippines go on a “summer break” which I should have been spending in bliss but instead I had to spend half of it in school by 6am everyday, only to leave by 6pm. On our first day of training, we donned white T-shirts tucked into blue jeans with rubber shoes on our feet and started the morning with 10 rounds of jogging around the AdZU soccer field to be followed with 10 repetitions of each of the air force dozen exercises. Our trainors increased the rounds each week till we were doing 40 rounds by the time we graduated. On our second day, we had to go through four “stations” where senior officers made us do exercises like squat thrusts and duck walks and had us roll in mud they had made especially for us. We had to wash ourselves off afterwards with a garden hose at the back of the Jesuit Residence.

After some time, we eventually started wearing fatigues and combat boots. Our shirts had to be tucked perfectly into our pants, our hair had to be neatly arranged in a bun without a single hair sticking out, our swords and combat boots had to be polished gleaming to the point that no smidgen of dirt should show up on a white handkerchief that the inspecting officer used to wipe it or else we’d get demerits.  We spent each day being inspected in ranks in “attention” position on concrete grounds under the heat of the summer sun. It became so unbearable for one of the guys that he fainted and landed on his jaw and had to be stitched up at the hospital. Still he came back and sported a bandage on his face for half of the summer.

And then there were indoor classes about military things that I’ve long since forgotten. We had to sit ramrod straight at the edge of our seats and if we slouched or fell asleep, we’d get punishment or demerits yet again. We had to bring our own lunches except during the last week, and sometimes they’d ask us to eat them the “reverse meal” way or in this order: 1) drink water, 2) eat the viand and 3) eat the rice. Still seated ramrod straight. And we were not allowed to make a mess. One time, someone dropped a banana and was asked to pick it off the floor with this mouth. We spent most of the time outdoors, though, learning how to twirl our swords and do “honor guard” formations, learning how to twirl and throw around our wooden rifles (this was actually fun, though) and once, running around the campus for a war games and yelling “you’re dead!” at other teams while other people looked at us like we were possessed. But mostly we took turns marching and giving commands.

military mealtime

And the punishments. Sometimes there were individual punishments – we would get tapped (the term for  getting whacked on the chest) or made to do more exercises. Then sometimes they would pull the “all for one, one for all” card and say that everyone had to get punished for one trainee’s mistake. And we’d do squat thrusts or push ups on the hot concrete under the blazing sun. Imagine touching a hot skillet over and over again. I got liquid-filled blisters on my palms. They would ask us to drink from the same cup and asked all of us to spit into one glass then drink from it after everyone was done – though later we were told it was egg white and not really spit, but you didn’t know it at that time.

What were we punished for? Oh, all sorts of things. Just because we didn’t see a senior officer and he greeted us before we did. Just because we did not sidestep to an officer when we encountered him in the halls. Just because our wooden rifles were snatched from our hands while we were in ranks. Just because an officer deliberately tricked us just so they could punish us. Oh yes they were mean. They were happiest when they saw us suffering. We didn’t do anything to them, of course, but they were getting their vengeance on their senior officers through us and it made them so happy.

Charlie team, during our graduation

And when June rolled around, we were changed men who marched into school. We had power and authority and lust for revenge in our system. Our prefect of students gave us the authority to give demerits not just to our batchmates who were taking up CAT but to all the high school students. We had our own office which we called the barracks. We felt important as we did responsibilities like herding the students downstairs during lunch break and locking up the gates to ensure that no hocus pocus happened with no teachers around. And we turned into our senior officers in our lust for revenge for being treated so harshly that summer and took it out on our batchmates. Okay, maybe I didn’t, I was embarrassingly tagged as the “kindest officer” by the non officers under us because I seriously couldn’t bear to be mean to anyone. But some of my “mates” abused their power. They pulled tricks and punished people just because they could, even settling personal vendettas.

In retrospect, I realize that that had been a pointless exercise in power and fraternity and hazing and humiliation. Okay, so I did gain some new friends (I used to be so shy that I had only friends in my own class), and a bit of courage to be a leader and speak up, learned to speak chavacano and lost a few pounds (hehe), but values-wise, that wasn’t good for me at all. I’m glad I didn’t let that change me in that aspect.

outing at La Vista del Mar beach resort