3 more weeks to POP! PO PO P!
I am one of the 25 people in Whiskey 4 to book out early.
I passed my IPPT diagnostic test.
I did not lose my rifle during field camp.
I polished my boots for the CO talk.
The rest shall be booking out tomorrow.
SITest was pretty hiong. Not that the commanders punished us a hell lot, but the distance we had to walk between stations really shagged us out. To make matters worse, I was appointed medic for the whole of the test. So there I was, on a land filled with grass taller than me but still insufficient to shade us from the intense sunlight, with the stretcher on my back. The examiner seemed to have something against me - he kept wounding the people in my detail, and so I had to treat their injuries and prepare the stretcher. On one occasion, the examiner told me, "Stretcher destroyed." I took out the groundsheet, spread it on the ground, ordered a few of my detail mates to carry the casualty (who happened to be Ivan He, my co-medic), and promptly zao-ed in front of the file formation to "cover fire". Those who helped to move the casualty dragged the groundsheet throughout the entire journey, while poor Ivan repeatedly screamed, "Ah! Hot! Friction! Ouch!" I was thankful I wasn't made the casualty.
Whenever we had to use the safety harness to complete a certain mission, there was a 95% chance that I would be the one being belayed. No doubt I was the lightest in my detail, but they had a pretty hard time trying to lift me off the ground. If you think I had an easier time up there, you should smack yourself. From the moment I felt the tension in the rope, my stomach started to contract. When my feet were off the ground, it felt like it was about to burst. I should try to gain some weight lest I am made a victim again in the future.
My performance during the SITest was pretty screwed up. I made meek attempts to contribute to the pool of ideas (mainly because my ideas were already being mentioned) and whenever the examiner looked my way, I would most probably be doing nothing. I don't really care where I end up after BMT now that one of the criteria to enter command schools has not been duly met. Heck, I even feel like requesting for a slack vocation.
My life in Whiskey is coming to an end. 3 more weeks and I'll bid farewell to BMTC.
This entry was posted by Kelvin, on
Saturday, February 18, 2006.
