#Tuesday Truthday: Men of Goody Feed Reveal Their Worst Experiences In The Army

We all agree that the Internet is filled with nothing but truthfulness: that influencer whom you’ve been stalking definitely looks like a diva 24 hours a day, and travel 365 days a year.

Your friend is in a great relationship because he’s been posting lovey-dovey images on Instagram, despite the fact that you saw him on Tinder this morning.

With so many people having such a perfect image online, we thought of having a weekly section called #TuesdayTruthday, whereby we Goody Feed, the imperfect human beings on the Internet, reveal some of our stories to show you the truth online.

And for this Tuesday, we’re focusing on something that most Singaporean men have experienced: national service.

Some see it as an opportunity to get fit, others try to avoid it altogether, saying they have the flu every week.

Serving national service isn’t always a pleasant experience. Power-drunk superiors, excessive physical activity, and cynical medical officers can make your stint in the army an awful and interminable one.

Just have a look at these three stories, and you’ll know what we mean.

A shitty experience in Brunei – Writer, 24

Back in Army, we had a common rule:

Avoid all dietary fiber while outfield, in order to abstain from big business in the woods.

Because if there’s one thing I absolutely detest about outfields…

It’s the despair of having to relieve yourself in the woods with a ton of mosquitoes admiring your nether regions.

And so I embarked on my quest to keep all my outfields clean. No. 1s were totally fine. No. 2s? Despicable. Before long, I was one year and a quarter into my military service, and I had an inkling:

I was gonna escape, unscathed.

And then the inevitable came: I was posted to Brunei for an overseas deployment program. Two weeks away from my mother’s embrace, and three whole days out in the scorching sun. It might’ve sounded like a dream, but it wasn’t to be.

The first few hours outfield were tolerable. After hauling my heavy ass system up a mountain as dominating as Everest, I assisted my teammates in setting up the air-defense weapon, and proceeded to rest my sorry legs. As the cold night air blew around us, I drifted off into sleep.

The next morning, I woke up to a breeze. And a hot ass sun. Protecting my vulnerable scalp with my jockey cap, I set off to find some water to quench my thirst. Downing it by the gallon, I sat down with my guys and proceeded to stare off into space.

And then my stomach churned.

I gulped. The last time this happened, I fired a ballistic missile into the poor toilet.

My eyes darted back and forth. I breathed heavily. I tried to steady myself. C’mon, this is just a trick. YOU’RE FINE.

I abstained from water. Walked around the hill. Tried to burp out any excess gas I might’ve in my system.

It didn’t work.

Hours passed, and I recoiled in a corner, distinctly dehydrated and sickly. My teammates were concerned for me, but I couldn’t break the news to them.

Until I could handle it no more.

Just as the floodgates threatened to blow apart with the force of Alex Ferguson’s hairdryer treatment, I ran to my officer, begged him to dig a hole for me, fast, and swiftly took off my pants. And the thing that happened next?

I’ll leave it to your imagination. But that’s, without a doubt, my most traumatic incident in military service.

Forced dancing – Deputy Editor, 27

Now, before I go on, I must admit something: I had it really, really easy in the army.

I received a PES C9L9 status, which means I didn’t have to attend combat training or participate in any rigorous outdoor activity.

Or, in other words, I was a pussy, as some of my dear army friends so lovingly put it.

So, because those with a PES C9L9 status couldn’t participate in any physical activity, army sergeants had to be really creative with their punishments.

Sergeant: Late again? Knock it down 20!

NSF: Oh, but I PES C9L9 ah

Sergeant: OK, write I Was Late a hundred times! 

That actually happened, by the way. But that was nothing compared to what my friend went through.

One evening, after having our night snack, my friend stepped on this grass-covered path that our sergeants specifically told us not to.

This was the third or fourth time that we had committed that particular transgression, so this sergeant decided to make an example out of my friend.

He grabbed a nearby pole, stared at my friend and said, “When I knock this pole on the ground, I want you to dance, understand?”

My friend, understandably, was confused.

“Eh, you deaf or what? Do you understand?”, he shouted.

“Y- yes, Sergeant.”

So this scum of a sergeant knocked the pole on the ground and my friend, very awkwardly, very uncomfortably, danced.

In front of the entire platoon.

This certainly brought a whole new and depressing meaning to the phrase pole dancing.

I felt so bad for him, as did my bunkmates.

In my mind, I was like, pfft try asking ME to dance and you’ll see what’ll happen, mister!

(I’d complain to his superior, of course).

At any rate, I don’t think I’ll ever forget the day that my friend was forced to dance in the army.

Failure To Impress – Writer, 23

I wasn’t in a combat unit, but I guess I kind of had an annoying experience.

It was about a year into my NS life when we were told a new recruit would be joining our ranks. I didn’t think much of it since we’ve had a few guys going in and out. Let’s refer to this new guy as ‘O’.

From the very first day, O tried to constantly lick the boots of everyone around him to gain favour. He even initially asked for extra work too! In the long-term, this backfired greatly as all of his work was subpar and people had to constantly cover his behind.

It got even worse, when he tried to forcefully involve himself by butting into conversations and matters which weren’t even his business. He’d act interested and knowledgeable on matters and when we tried to drown him out, he would physically push his face in the middle of the conversation to try and make a point.

Eventually, I think he got the hint that almost all of us didn’t like him, and kind of apologised. But nothing changed. The terrible work ethic and quality remained the same, equipment was misplaced and he started getting into fights for reasons I probably shouldn’t list here.

Meanwhile all he did was blame us and said that we didn’t appreciate his work. We’ve had odd newcomers before, but none quite like O. I couldn’t tell you how happy I was when I ORD’d. Aside from the fact that I completed my two years, I was also free from O and never had to see him again. Fingers crossed, by the way, testing the future is obviously not a very safe thing to do. He did impress me though. It was pretty impressive how he collectively managed to piss off not only our co-workers and superiors, but the people from OTHER branches that we had to work with too.

Once again, I stress, fingers crossed.