Just came back from a silly Infantry seminar and felt compelled to pen down my thoughts over the last week. Well, the senior officers at the seminars were super duper law saw, they could have reduced their words by half and still have answered the questions.
Anyway, there was a Q&A towards the end, and it eventually became a complaining session among the regulars and some NSmen. I was disappointed with the way the feedback was handled but that would not be the content for this blog. But rather, CIO's comment that Infantry is seen as something too general to generate pride, an armour, artillery soldier could easily become infantry, he talked about the need to re-brand infantry.
I see myself and the commanders as skilled managers of men. You cannot parachute someone from commando or anywhere into our unit because they would not have seen the kind of men we receive. Ordinary men take a new meaning in an infantry unit, suddenly you see people different from you, the school dropouts, the druggies, etc (definitely not the diploma/A-level guys)
John summed it up well: you can issue ipads and new terrex platform but until you gain the trust of these men, you can't win a battle with just the gadgets.
Just last Wednesday, I visited Abaz with Ruiwen. He got his leg amputated from a traffic accident. He was a Sec 2 dropout and it would be hard for him to find an administrative job.
And then last Thursday, met an old friend for lunch. He was struggling with low income and high cost of living.
And on Friday, there was a gathering an the residence of the Japan Ambassador in Singapore and there were many high-flyers present. Conversation was, in a way, meaningless as no one would remember them. To me, it's easy for the people up there, the high-flyers to treat everything as numbers... productivity etc
But every single digit is a life and a soul. And it doesn't matter if I save the soul of a beggar or a billionaire, their values are the same.
Just want to share the song: Triangle by SMAP
English Translation of Lyrics
From a small room set a little apart
From the heart of the city
No matter how hard I strain my eyes
There are so many things I can't see
For example, someone praying to the distant sky
For example, you cowering in fear
The shadows of the dead who wander
Longing for a fulfilling tomorrow
All they can find is destruction
They can't love the world of the future
My eyes, your hands, our voices
They all seem different
But freedom is life
My skin, your mother, our love
It's all a miracle
That rained down on this tiny blue planet
My reticent grandfather passed his feelings down
To my father, across a generation
Which kept climbing earnestly up a terrible, harsh road
Not knowing even a small amount of hardship
We were born and lived afterwards
Let's take up those feelings
And give voice to them until our voices break
The hero of a great country
And the young girl from a wartorn country
Their weight is equal
They're both lives that should be esteemed
With a fearless expression
The gun is pointed
At our hearts and nowhere else
It's carved deep, deep
Like that wound
My eyes, your hands, our voices
They all seem different
But freedom is life
My skin, your mother, our love
It's all a miracle
That rained down on this tiny blue planet
The sorrow of a great country
The mother who can't see it through to the end
Their weight is equal
They're both lives that should be esteemed
With a fearless expression
The gun is pointed
At our hearts and nowhere else
Yes, in your fearful hand
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