By popular demand, and to avoid the wrath of Atheist Chaplaincy, another story regarding 1SG (E7) Highspeed, my platoon sergeant at one time, who came to us in the "Big Army" from the shadowy world of special forces units with alphabet soup names, and one of his... pleasant surprises.

So, to set the scene, it's mid 2017, about 6 months after my previous story, and my unit, 3rd Battalion, Singapore Infantry Regiment (3SIR), has been flown to Brunei, where, after touching down at Bandar Seri Begawan, we spend a hellish night in a holding prison camp called Jalan Aman Camp before being moved by bus to Muara Naval Base, where we board a boat that takes us to Bangar Town, where we again board buses that take us to the Jungle Training School, in Temburong, our home for the next month or so, as part of Exercise Lancer.

This story occurs during the navigation exercise (NAVEX) part of Exercise Lancer, where the company is split into "Tangos" of about 15 people each, splitting up sections (squads) and platoons, each Tango led by a couple of NCOs or officers, with the NAVEX beginning with each Tango tossed into the back of a tonner (Singapore Army slang for a truck) then dumped somewhere beside the training area along Temada Road, where we'll have 3 days to find 4 checkpoints, a midpoint in between, and an endpoint, with us needing to find at least 3 out of 4 checkpoints and spending 2 nights in the jungle (thankfully non-tac, meaning pitching tents and starting campfires is allowed, as opposed to tac mode, which in the Singapore Army means no fires, lights or tents, and sleeping in a hole with body armour and helmet on). To make it, we'll need to hump around 10km per day across incredibly hilly, incredibly jungly primary rainforest, with field packs (rucks or bergens) that weighed just shy of 45kg (100 pounds).

The story proper begins on our second night in the jungle, which we decided to spend at our midpoint, since the one we were assigned is apparently a pretty good camping spot according to 1SG Highspeed and my Company Sergeant Major (CSM), who are the guys in charge of my Tango, and that leaves us a full day to find just one more checkpoint. After our first night at a checkpoint called FOAL CALF, which was a pretty good night, except for a spooky incident (story if anyone wants to hear it), our second day doesn't go as great as our first, with a tropical monsoon thunderstorm blowing in just after lunch, and us taking a... questionable route on CSM's... suggestion which results in us scrabbling up a muddy, jungly ravine in the monsoon, and so ending up soaking wet and filthy.

Then, when we reach midpoint, around sunset, to our horror, another Tango has gotten there first, and set up camp on the spot we were thinking of, and not just that, said Tango was full of guys from a platoon we had some stupid beef with. Thankfully, this was just a NAVEX, so all we had were blanks, thunderflashes and smoke grenades for signalling, and so the deadliest thing the other Tango could have done is yeet a rock at us or something, because we were greeted with the all the hostility a group of 15 over-testosteroned 18-25 year old guys could muster. Our turf, you cheebais fuck off lah

To understand the situation, it is important to describe midpoint (I've unfortunately forgotten its designation), and more broadly, the terrain in Temburong. I've considered posting a photo taken during this actual NAVEX, but for PERSEC reasons, I think I'll have to leave it out. I've already described it as very hilly and jungly, but really, words cannot do it justice, go find some pictures yourself to understand what it was like. Midpoint was a tall hill towering above the terrible, tangled and now flooded jungle floor, which is what made it a good camping spot, but it was unfortunately very, very narrow, resembling a kitchen knife lying on its back. There was just about enough space for one Tango to set up their bashas (Singapore Army slang for a simple tarp tent) right at the top of midpoint... which is of course where this other Tango was. Trying to resolve the situation satisfactorily for everyone, 1SG Highspeed and CSM tell us to set up our bashas a little lower on the hill, but still well above the jungle, where there's just enough space, after which 1SG Highspeed tried to go over to the other Tango and their NCOs and officers and diplomatically suggest that we compromise by having them leave their tent city in place, we'd leave our gear lower on the hill (to minimise space), and then we'd share bashas with the other Tango. Didn't work out. They got here first, losers. Wanna get the good spot? Should've humped it faster. Pays to be a winner and all that.

So we're sitting in our bashas, on the slightly lower, razor-edge narrow part of midpoint. It's a rocky hill at least, not muddy, broken up by the huge roots of massive trees that loom over us in the darkness that has now set in. We've eaten combat rations and instant noodles cooked with solid fuel for dinner, our asses are on groundsheets (tarps) laid out on the rocks and roots, and groundsheets have been strung up above us to keep us (somewhat dry). Field packs, ILBVs (plate carriers) and some boots (I kept mine on, if I remember correctly) have been taken off and laid beside us. Some individual clothing items have been hung up to dry on the cords and bicycle hooks used to string the bashas up. I kept most of my uniform on, sodden and dirty as it was, only unbuttoning my shirt, I think, because you never wanna get too naked in the jungle. It's not raining, but after the monsoon rain, everything is damp and drippy, and everytime the wind blows we're showered with a huge burst of water droplets. Under the dense jungle canopy, the night is pitch black, luckily, since we're non-tac, we've hung up our torchlights under the groundsheets to give us some light. This was one of those times the phrase "swallowing the light from our torches" really was appropriate. Bright, white circles of illumination showing olive green groundsheets, grey rocks and brown roots, and nothing but inky darkness, black as space, black as the bottom of the ocean everywhere beyond that hard border of light.

Morale wasn't rock bottom, but it was definitely lower than the night before, and there was a distinctive feeling of disappointment in the air. We were soggy, the world was soggy, most of the Tango wanted nothing more than to lie down on the dry-ish groundsheets and get what sleep we could. Like I said, the hill was very narrow, so moving around was difficult, if not downright dangerous even, and I remember there being not much conversation after the sun had set, most guys just sitting glumly.

That is, until 1SG Highspeed decided to make it one of the best, and most memorable nights of my life.

"Hey, it's LCP Bochap's birthday today, isn't it?" He asked ("Bochap" means to not give a fuck in Hokkien, an attitude which describes that of a signaller in our Tango, and hence the nickname I will give him).

"Shouldn't we bake him a birthday cake?"

Again, here we were, sitting atop a hill in trackless rainforest, dozens of clicks from the nearest town, hundreds from a decent city and civilisation, so my brain was racing to figure out how, if there was any way, that 1SG Highspeed wasn't being sarcastic and making the situation worse than it was

"Yeah, okay I guess" LCP Bochap called back

Getting up, 1SG Highspeed looked around for the broadest area in our tent city, then called us to gather around him.

"Alright, I'll need you guys to bring me a clean mess tin, some solid fuel, the chocolate-flavoured dog biscuits, the unflavoured dog biscuits, the hot chocolate and coffee powder and a canteen with some water in it"

(Dog biscuits are Singapore Army slang for hard tack, and all the food items were part of our combat ration packs)

We grabbed the items and went over to him, having to huddle and cuddle involuntarily to fit in the space, lest someone fall of the hill.

"Alright, this is gonna need some teamwork", 1SG Highspeed said, before spreading the items out amongst us. I was handed the unflavoured dog biscuits, and told to keep them in the plastic, but turn them back into fine-grained flour by beating them with my fists, but being careful not to burst the plastic.

The ingredients prepared, 1SG Highspeed took the mess tin and placed the chocolate dog biscuits inside it in stacks, side by side. He then took packets of the "flour" from the people told to prepare it, including myself, and poured them into the mess tin, being careful to fill all the spaces between the chocolate dog biscuits. He then sprinkled just the slightest amount of water from the canteen into the mess tin, lit the solid fuel, and then held the mess tin above it, cooking with as little heat as possible, and being careful to add water occasionally, watching intently to make sure it did not burn. Once the chocolate dog biscuits and "flour" had slowly melted together into a delicious-smelling, spongy, even mass, he poured the coffee powder and hot chocolate powder evenly on top, to make an "icing" of sorts.

Then we sang the birthday song for LCP Bochap, let him cut his cake, and then it was divided for each of us in the Tango to enjoy.

"Eh, remember not to give any to the bastards on top of the hill", 1SG Highspeed reminded us.

As if you need to tell us, I thought to myself.

I took a bite from my slice of cake, and was rewarded with the taste of a deep, rich creamy chocolate, with the slightest but distinctive flavour of roasted coffee. Needless to say, we all felt much better after that, and slept well that night.

Best damn chocolate cake I ever ate in my life.