N.S. Mammaries

In the bad old days when I was still serving NS (National Servitude), I encountered many, shall we say, memorable characters.

One of them was my CSM (or 'Encik' as the CSM is always called).

He was just like any other regular; smoked, drank, swore, etc, etc. He had joined the army at 16, almost 20 years with the SAF by the time I got to my unit.

He was a commando (of course), not a bad CSM, nice but on the cunning side (of course), and damn bloody nua.

I can remember times when I was lucky enough to be with the HQ instead of outfield. He would bring along an insulator packed with ice and beer. Two insulators, in fact. He even had a codename for it (‘cough syrup’).

But the funniest thing about him was the state of his English; not quite broken, more like mangled. We found out about it from the very first week in the unit…

The 2IC then was posting out, and he gathered the men and specs to announce that we were to have a barbeque in honor of him. “Gentlemen, you all will organize Lieutenant Don’s welfare party.”

We were all wondering what he was talking about when the PS suddenly sniggered. “Uh, Staff ah, si farewell party leh.”

Things got even funnier during the barbeque itself when he proposed a toast to Lieutenant Don.

“As you all know, Lieutenant Don will be leaving us soon. We want to wish him all the best. So tonight is Lieutenant Don’s died.”

Well, we had heard that the 2IC wasn’t particularly popular with anyone, so maybe it wasn’t a mistake after all…

But the moment that has gone down in unit folklore, at least for our 1999-2001 batch, was when he was giving a briefing for an overseas exercise.

Ex Wallaby in Australia is an annual affair, and being an Armour unit, we were slated to go there at least once during our NS life.

So there we were, being briefed by OC and CSM (I should mention that OC and CSM were real pals, OC himself being quite beng; some of the specs called them the Lion and The Fox) on Ex Wallaby 1999.

OC had his say about the training involved, and then CSM briefed us on the admin side of things, and what to expect of the terrain, having been there many times himself.

So he started this tale about how he had witnessed a forest fire raging out of control. “That time in Wah-lah-bee, I driving my Rover. Den I saw ah, both side of the road also [struggling for the correct words here]…firing fire.”

There were a few indiscreet sniggers there and then. But he went on about the R and R. “During the R and R, you all will stay in the hawtel, or the mawtel. If you lucky, you get air con. Those suay suay one, onny got blade on the ceiling.”

The room was almost quivering now, and it got out of control with this little gem. “Den on your last night, before you board the plane, your suffer will be provided. You all will eat your suffer…Chio si mi lan??” This was said in response to the specs, who were now howling like wolves, with the men trying hard to keep a straight face.

OC himself, stylo as ever, just growled, “Wah lan eh, Ah Char! Ler eh ang moh si ay buay gum leh!” And that was to shape the way of things to come.

Just about every morning at first parade, when he spoke to us, he would issue dire threats about what he would do if we were disobedient.

“If I caught you doing this ah, then straight away no say, I charge you, no question ask!” (‘Straight away no say’ being his literal translation of ‘mian kong’.) It got to the point where even the PS started to say it. In jest, of course.

I can remember too, occasions when I happened to be in the office, where he was typing a report or an email, and he would shout out something like, “Eh Bryan ah [one of the officers], ‘advice’ an chua spell ah?”

“A-D-V-I-C-E.”

“Ooh yiah boh? Mm si A-B-V-I-S-E meh?” ("Are you sure it's not A-B-V-I-S-E?"

“Wah lan eh, Ah Char, ler eh ang moh kei ao leh!” He had a good relationship with the officers, who respected him for his age and experience, and who called him Ah Char or Ah Chek.

Every briefing or talk that he gave, we would prime ourselves. We would grin with anticipation, and then try not to snigger too hard when he dropped a bomb like, “Later at the training ground, due to no time, you all will conceal your dinner at the training shed.”

Someone once said to me that his theory of English was that if a word was too hard to pronounce, he would simply approximate a pronunciation.

“So long as it sounds like the actual word, then that’s good enough for him.” This simply resulted in initial quizzical expressions, followed by a sudden realization and a desperate attempt to keep a straight face. The PS used to say that the Encik had a degree from ‘Offord’.

He eventually got used to the sniggering, and once or twice, he announced whimsically, “Eh, don' lai dat lah, I know my ang moh boh ho. I bo tak chek one mah, I onny Sec 1 leh. If my ang moh zai ah, den I won' stand here, I OC orredy.” Then he would whip his head round to check if OC was there.

One of his most memorable performances, was at our 1st year range. It just so happened that the last day fell on Valentine’s Day; OC had actually promised that those who achieved marksmanship the day before would then get Valentine’s off.

And since most of the attached ones were bobo shooters, (I can only recall one person achieving it the day before) we were all resigned to spending the whole of that day at the range. Unexpectedly, we finished in the late morning, and he gathered us for instructions.

“Later when we go back, I dowan to see anyone clean his weapon on top of the bunk. Den when you all finish, evening I let you book out. So gentlemen, enjoy your Vanstine Day.”

Halcyon days, those were. I’ve never laughed so hard in my life.

--contributed by Half-Cocked