It's been a while since I've posted a story here, and I really should be getting some (postgrad) university work done, but I really miss bullshitting with all you fuckers who have spent some time wearing some shade of green or brown, and I guess you guys who just wanna listen in on our campfire (only when in non-tac mode of course, especially seeing what drones can do today) stories are very much welcome too. So here's a (hopefully) short(-ish) one for everyone.

It's early 2017, the weather is like 40°C (104°F) and 100% humidity, and my unit, 3rd Battalion, Singapore Infantry Regiment (3SIR) are sitting somewhere in far Northern or North-Western Singapore, in some jungly training area (if I recall correctly, it may have been in the Pasir Laba Training Complex or Lorong Ashrama. Or not. They all start to blur together in memory after a while). To set the scene, we're sitting in a training shed on a hill that is a mound of red mud, with lalang (sword grass) growing thickly around the training shed. A path has been kinda trampled down by hundreds of bootprints to a sandy, dusty and rocky grey gravel road below us. By that road, a general-purpose tent has been set up, with a table, and stacks of ammo boxes for us to draw live rounds from. Walk a couple of hundred meters down that road, past a safety rover (a land rover with a platoon sergeant, a team of medics, medical equipment, and just general safety stuff like traffic cones, fire extinguishers and jerry cans of water), turn right and there was another mound of red mud, but this one with a large berm on the back and sides, stacked tires for us to lie prone behind, and Figure 11 target boards for us to punch 5.56mm holes in at the top of the hill, just in front of the berm.

We're there to learn section (squad) live-firing, where we'll basically charge up the hill, moving bound by bound, while the other members of the section lay down covering fire. Sounds (vaguely) fun, if we didn't have to wake up at like 0430 hours or something like that to get ready for it, and then each section had to do a dry (no firing at all) run, then a run firing blanks, then a run firing live rounds, with both a blank and live run done in the day and another at night (to practice night fighting). There's of course the usual safety brief, and we all get to hear the familiar story of a fatal accident that happened some years before, and a near-accident that happened more recently, the usual "live rounds are not toys speech". Then, in something familiar to anyone who has ever served, the boredom began, as each section waited for their turn, did a run, then came back to wait for everyone else to finish their runs. With the number of sections there were, you can imagine how long this took. We arrived around 0700 or 0800-ish if I remember correctly, and my section got its day live-firing run right before sunset, so around 1700 or 1800-ish. Other than thinking I saw a UFO (story if anyone else wants to hear it), the 10 hours or so were mind-numbing boredom, very slightly broken up by the dry run and blank run

Finally, in the refreshingly slightly cooler evening air and the orange-tinged rays of the setting sun, my section shuffled down the gravel road, huge clouds of sandy dust being kicked up by each boot step. As we walk past the safety rover, we spot our platoon sergeant at the time, 1SG (E7) Highspeed (I shall refer to everyone with a nickname for PERSEC, and 1SG Highspeed had come to us from that shadowy world of alphabet-soup special forces units, and after his stint as our platoon sergeant in the "Big Army" it was back to this shadowy world that he returned) leaning against the side of the rover as the NCO on duty. We greet him informally, he greets us back, then, with a grin, he asks

"Anyone want an ice-cold Coke?"

There is a visible shudder of hesitation going through the section. I remember Admiral Ackbar's voice calling to me a long time ago from a galaxy far, far away "IT'S A TRAP!" and I can see from the faces and body language of my sectionmates that they are thinking the exact same thing.

But then one of them pipes up. LCP (E2) Gaming Console (his nickname actually was a gaming console, won't say which one or why for PERSEC) cheerfully says "I won't mind a Coke!"

And then I witness one of the most amazing things I saw in my brief, involuntary military career. 1SG Highspeed pops the rear right door of the safety rover open, and there are a handful of jerry cans of water strewn in the back of the rover. He reaches for one, completely indistinguishable from any of the others. Then, placing it down on the dusty soil beside the rover, he must have pushed some virtually invisible button or pulled some microscopic handle on the "jerry can". A seam I could not see a moment before appears, and the "jerry can" hinges open like a clamshell along its side, revealing a gleaming white interior lined with the same insulation material that cooler boxes have. A cooler box! It wasn't a jerry can, the "jerry can" was a camouflaged cooler box! A fucking cooler box!

And within it, separated into two decks like larger cooler boxes, were cans of Coke, Coke Zero and Sprite, dripping with condensation. 1SG Highspeed reached in, grabbed a can of Coke, and handed it to LCP Gaming Console.

"I...I...Is it actually 'ice-cold'?" One of my other sectionmates, LCP Tiger (his nickname is because our Company Sergeant Major once exclaimed that he looked like "a fucking Tamil Tiger" in his gear) stammered. "Here, feel it", LCP Gaming Console responded, cautiouslessly holding onto the can, but pressing it against LCP Tiger's palm.

LCP Tiger swore.

Then, LCP Gaming Console popped the can, and in one giant swig, downed it while walking the last few steps to the section live-firing range.

I didn't want a Coke anyway. Too fizzy. It'll make you sick right before you have to heave yourself up and charge uphill before slamming yourself down into the clay-hard red mud again. Luckily I didn't speak up. If not, I'll have gotten a Coke. What would I do with it anyway? Give it away to the section! Yes! That's what I would have done! Give it to the section! I thought to myself, half because I actually did think it was a tad too fizzy a choice of drink right before what we were about to do, half to push away the regret of not volunteering, I'm sure.

On the walk back, 1SG Highspeed was smiling smugly at us. Shadowy in more ways than one, what can I say?

And for the remaining year and a half of National Service that I had, I swear, everytime I saw 1SG Highspeed in a rover with jerry cans, I tried to look out for the "jerry can".

If it was there, I was never able to spot it.

Edit: fixed spelling