No one knew I had that, I managed to salvage this during live fire exercises, I was going to do it that night. I seriously thought he deserved that. I deliberated on the pros and cons, will I be discovered, yes definitely, with my background and motive. I aborted that exercise. Decided I do not need to murder him. An opportunity might crop up in the future.

Combination Switch For Booby Traps

Soon I was aboard a train to Seremban where I will be picked up by a Special Forces Land Rover, to be sent to Sungei Udang in Malacca, where the Special Warfare Training Center is located. A 150 candidates were supposed to turn up. A total of 13 unlucky idiots turned up. The smart ones did not turn up.

Once I saw the Land Rover, I introduced myself to the driver, he helped me load the kit bag into the rear of the Land Rover, the driver was a Trooper and a Commando. He was kind and friendly. He told me that he was sending me to Betutu Laut, when I reached there, I was expecting buildings and barracks. No, it was not! It was a frigging swamp located by the sea a good 200 meters from the sea.

I was told to construct a hammock on a bund in the swamp, there was ample wood for the hammock, all stacked up by previous course participants. I asked the Commando Corporal why were the main staffs so long, to which he replied, you will know when the tide comes in. You are lucky you came in early. So you get to pick the best spot, to which I replied, “Lucky huh?

If I was lucky I should not be here”. Further he added that starting tomorrow I had to do double time moving from place to place. That is if you are under the sky. Only exempted after meals. The other 12 guys drifted in by evening. All of them were my batch, commissioned with me. The CSMI (Company Sergeant Major Instructor) was small sized guy. His name was Ahlal, a very bloody fit person.

That evening he briefed us that tomorrow would be the orientation of the camp. We were to be in full service marching order, which meant packs full with all the shit that soldiers carry, a whole list was given of what to place in the pack, for us to follow to the letter. We were marched to the dining hall the last time we will march (walk) at the SWTC (Special Warfare Training Center).

After a pathetic dinner worse than in Recruit Training Center, we were marched back. We were told to rest, I was tired so I went and lay on my hammock, apply insect repellent to all my exposed parts and putting on my balaclava on my head, which can be rolled down to cover the face, sand flies are worse than mosquitos. They can drive you nuts. I slept off the others were still pitching their hammocks.

I awoke at around 2100 hrs. to take a leak, I wanted to step down, my gut feeling stopped me, I reached for my torchlight and shone it around me, all around my hammock was dark brackish water, the sea tide had come in, nearly reaching my hammock, just another foot or so. So I pissed off from my hammock without getting down.

In the morning we woke up and assembled, there was only one pipe for us to wash up, planks like bridges were placed across a few ditches to drain the water when the tide went out. Those were our toilets. We have to hang out our arses over the side to take a dump. Use our water bottles to wash our arses, and then rinse our hands, after which use soap to wash off at the pipe stand.

If you did all that in the dumping position, you might accidentally fall into the sewage drain head first, as it was a balancing act. The place where you took a dump was a narrow plank, it used to bend under our weight. Soon we had to assemble for the opening ceremony of the course. There were 13 of us and 17 instructors, looks like no skiving for anyone.

We put on our packs and carried our rifles, we slept with them in the hammocks. We ran on the double to the SWTC auditorium. Then we placed our packs and rifles laid on top neatly in a line and sat down. Soon the ceremony started, the Commandant started saying that he expected 150 candidates to experience commando hospitality, we laughed and said no thanks quite audibly.

That irritated the Commandant, he asked all of us, “How many of you would like to return to your units?” All of us enthusiastically put up our hands, some of them even stood up, sheepishly sitting back to their original position. “Gentleman, I am sorry, you all cannot go back”. One of the gutsy officers, told him, “Sir, if we wanted to be in the Special Forces, we would have applied for it”.

“No, this is a requirement of the army where all young officers have to spend 6 weeks with the Special Forces”. That was bullshit, at least he tried to be convincing, you had to give him credit for that. That was it, just have to resign to the fact that you would be there for 6 weeks whether you like it or not. The instructors started yelling, that is the standard tone, you hear when your course starts officially.

These are Senior NCO instructors yelling at officers, sort of a cultural shock. We were in 3 files wearing our packs and carrying our rifles, with one of us taking turns to lead. The CSMI was the lead, we had to follow him, every place he orders, mark time, which means running on the spot, if a building is on the right, he will order eyes, right and explain what is that particular building.

I was not interested in the buildings, all I wanted to know was where the canteen was!! The orientation of the camp lasted a good 2 hours, by which time we were sweating profusely, until even your underwear would be soaked through. We were taken back running to our base, the swamp. Given a half hour to catch our breath.

From there we were told to store our weapons and equipment. Again we fell in and were taken to the seaside 200 meters away. The Instructor told us to advance into the sea with our clothing and boots, saying it was to cool us down, once we were at waist height, we had to be completely submerged. That was the camp and swamp phase.

Then we were called out and counted, when confirmed there were 13 of us we ran back to our base, to prepare to go for our lunch. Before lunch we had to take a 2 km run, after that head towards the dining “hall”, in our squishy boots. Our place for dining was in the open air under a tree adjacent to the dining hall. We cannot start collecting the food until after the heaving bar, where each of us have to do 5 chin ups.

From what I heard it will go up to 10 later on, they believe in progression. During this time, we are observed by at least 6 instructors, At any given time at least 6-7 will be observing us, I had no idea for what. So you do your chin ups, sometimes more than 5 because they think you are cheating. After that you queue up to receive the food in mess tins.

They splatter the swill which you look at with disbelief into the mess tin. We just shovel the food into the mouth without tasting, just chewing. Soon lunch is over, we are on hill, we can observe below, a 3-ton truck and a land rover make their way up the slope very stealthily and stop at the foothill. Looks kind of suspicious. One of the instructors comes to us, says, “Sir, if you are done eating please head towards the truck”.

I knew it, gut feeling more shit awaited us. It was a 1 hour plus ride. We got down there were some commandos at the point where we got off. The CSMI was there, he told us, “Sir, we are going to take you on a scramble course”. Me, being the smart one asked, “Where is the scrambler, Encik (Mister)?” He looked at me, pointed at my feet, “You, sir have already got your scramblers, it is only the engine that matters now”.

The route was marked by staffs driven into the ground which had red pennants. “Sir, just follow the staffs, you will be alright”. This was a frigging primary jungle and we will be alright? I thought. “I will lead”, wow, this CSMI was something else, he was way much older than us. We had packs and a rifle each, he was only carrying a water bottled around his waist.

He took off, we started running behind him, there was no clear track. He was small sized and managed to dodge shrubs and creepers. At first we could keep up with him. Only he was leading, I knew I was fucked, when the speed picked up. Soon we were running up a steep slope, huffing and puffing, I was hoping I could catch up with the CSMI, fat hopes, some of us were already straggling.

Then we went downhill, there was hope to catch up with him. It was a bad dream, we without warning were going into a swamp, it was definitely a scramble course, even the off road motor cross contraptions would not be able to make it through. The swamp was knee deep. We struggled catching our breath, and seeking a firm footing.

The CSMI was way in front, sweat was pouring out of our pores, splashed with rotting vegetation and dank smelly water. Everything yukky was sticking onto us, we were trying to run, then again our feet with boots were being sucked into the mud. All 13 of us were feeling miserable. We were into our run already for an hour plus. We were soaked with our own sweat and the fetid smelling swamp.

Finally, we reached solid ground, the CSMI nonchalantly turned around and told us, “Sir, please keep up”. That sent my anger and frustration a notch up. Yes, solid ground going uphill. So we plodded uphill, lungs virtually bursting. I told myself I will give up on cigarettes. Which I did during the course, it gave better appetite, my shortness of breath decreased.

There were phases during this course. First phase was camp phase, that’s where we were now. Then comes the sea phase and finally the swamp phase, like we were not already in swamp. The camp phase consisted of physical activities like the two mile run, five mile run, scrambling and long distance map reading.

Repelling, cross country the usual shit to mould into a fighting fit soldier, fire and movement with live rounds and grenades, withdrawal with live rounds, claymore ambush, river crossing, casualty evacuation and survival. It was very interesting but severely taxing on the physique. We had to go to Asahan, for our live fire combat training.

Since there were 13 of us, we were broken up into a group of 6 and 7. I was in the 6-man group. Two Mag 58’s (GPMG’s)were mounted on tripods at 600 meters behind us. So when they fire the live rounds, it is above us. The assault route was downhill and then slopes uphill. Each of us had 5 magazines that’s 150 rounds of 5.56mm, 6 live grenades.

This was serious business, this training. There will be two leaders for a team, one for the advance and one for the withdrawal. The start would be the firing of the GPMG’s, the order was given, “30 round magazine load”. We were managed by 17 instructors, so that none of us accidentally shot each other. Then it started.

The Mag 58’s (GPMG’s) opened up, dum, dum, deep sounds and a reassuring sound of a backup. We started paper potting, 6 of us nervous kids of fantastic parents. No parent would allow their kids to be in harm’s way. We dashed forward, 3 of us, the other three opened up with their M116’s. One of us forward, when were behind a slightly raised ground, looked around, to judge if everyone would be safe, which was pre-arranged, took out a M73 hand grenade, pulled out the pin, shouting “grenade” threw it forward of our group.

The very live grenade, which can kill you blew up barely 30 meters in front of us. The casualty radius of a grenade is between 5 and 20 meters; with a minimum of 50% of exposed personnel becoming casualties within a radius of around 15 metres from the blast. A single grenade can kill an individual up to 10 metres away and can cause serious injuries up to 20 metres away (extracted infor from Google).

We hugged dirt, trying our best to burrow into the earth. Never trust novices with grenades when they are given a free reign of 6 grenades each. Well, that was our daily recreation and fun. Our life of challenges without thinking of material gain, only serving with our lives and soul. We got our rocks of that way, hey it was a macho way, our life was not that of pussies and mama’s boys.

Which was the norm of over protected and pampered guys, who never had an inkling of hardship or camaraderie. After the grenade throw the other 3 moved forward of us, while we fired, it was aimed fire, no firing from the hip or swinging our rifles left to right. It was a sacred commandment to only fire aimed shots.

So as not to kill our buddies. This is not like in the movies. There is no director to say, “cut” and then say “reshoot”, once you are dead you are dead. We keep on repeating this drill, sweat will be pouring out of our pores. The other group will be observing and learning so as not to screw up. We did this very well.

The instructors were very pleased with us. We definitely had to run a few miles to the truck that was waiting for us at least 5 miles away. They are always very good at toying with you and get their rocks off by seeing us sweating and puffing.