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Designed and made by FsDesigns
Designed and made by FsDesigns
Sunday, September 10, 2006
ATEC IS OVER!
OMG
OMG
OMG!!
Awesome feeling.
Wasn't worth the hell we went through, but since we had little choice in that matter, it'll be left as that. 40 SAR, Sungei Gedong, Murai.. all these places so far away now. Never ever going back.
On the field we gathered, the class of '86. United in a roar of finality.
Taking into account every thing that happened in the four days, it really wasn't such a bad outfield. By all accounts, it could have been much worse. I remember running back and forth from SP COY to Archer COY, once forgetting my FAD, the next leaving the powder behind. Hectic it was, up till the sounding of the alarm. When then everything slacked off, and we found ourselves sitting, bored, on the grounds of 46.
The things we forgot to bring outfield was embarassing. The toolbox, such an important component. Special objects such as the drift pin. Ribena. Twisties. Jasmine green tea.
To a certain extent, I guess I was satisfied with the way we handle things. Zijian came on board, replacing Ming Hui and bringing so much more. A refreshing brand of enthusiasm, hardworking ethics, and a warp sense of humour that tickled us in the harsh environment. Zj incidentally wore his dallies for three days, proving once and for all, that daily contacts can be worn longer than it's prescribed time. But on a more serious note, without this chubby chump of mine, things would have been so much harder. The tracks would have been stuck, I would have yelled at Jo and Yh like any other normal outfield, and Staff would have fucked us to hell.
Every outfield has it's bogey SM1. This time we worked with 1SG Veera, a loudmouth braggart if there ever was one. This time he managed to drive his vehicle into a mud pool, disengage the track links, and ride one on top of the other. No mean feat, but certainly not one to be appreciated. It's wheels on two sets of tracks, if you can understand and imagine.
After huffing and puffing for a night and half a day, WO Lee arrowed me to do the roadwheel hub. Reckless probably due to lack of sleep, I dived into the task with a feriocity not seen since we pulled the track scarce ten minutes earlier. The wind whipped the surrounding sand into fountains of mist, settling everywhere, on the vehicles, on the people toiling under the sun, on the officers and senior specs snoring under the shade.
A certain spec called Jx stood up, panting. His bloodshot eyes, the hot, torn whisper of a breathing gone off tune, each blister on his tattered fingers telling a different story of a different nut and screw. The face of exhaustion. Everyone crowds around him, asking him the same question in different ways of phrasing, "Wadya want Jx? What do you need man?"
Jx pauses. Glares at the ground. Then, says with a touch of vehemence.
"I need a cold drink."
Crowd: (-_-"')...
Rushed a few vehicles here and there, said a rather unwitting goodbye to Mr Sim, who posted out quietly on Friday. And ATEC ended.
BWO's gone now too. Captain now, yet he leaves a huge hole in the fabric of 40 SAR workshop. Never will we see someone like him again.
And now, to the important matters..
_'Jx]- faded at 1:57 PM
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