cadet-aviator

[cadet-aviator]

Into Service (5)

I quickly changed into my whites, found a closet to hang my other clothes in, brushed up my shoes, and quietly made it down the stairs.

I found a discreet spot in the hallway.

This was it, I thought, a new life – I remember feeling really nervous, but my training kicked in: ‘come to attention’, hold that for a minute, then stand at ease. 

[For those who’ve never done drill exercises: ‘at attention’ you stand rigidly straight, hands beside your body, feet together, face forward, and you’re allowed ‘to breathe, blink and swallow’, but nothing else. Once you’re told to stand ‘at ease’, you move your feet to a 45-degree position, you put your hands behind your back, ‘left hand in right hand’. You face forward, but you are allowed to move your head, and do things like cough or scratch your nose. In Elite Camp, I spent long hours in this ‘honorary night watch’ position. You were taught how to control your circulation, so you wouldn’t faint after a while.]

After an hour the front door opened and the colonel and his son entered, chatting. They noticed me but didn’t speak to me; I didn’t look around, I just stood. The son, who was about 10, I thought, was in cadet uniform, he went upstairs straight away, the colonel disappeared into his office. I stood, listening to the sounds of the house. The son was having a shower, I think. 

Then the colonel came out and beckoned me into his office. Nice old fashioned office, big desk, solid chairs, some nice art. I stood before the desk as he sat down, and as he was not giving any orders, I naturally came to attention and waited. He got out my folder.

He was in his thirties, but already a colonel; I could tell he was not just any professional soldier. Perhaps he belonged to the same higher class as the Admiral. 

He was soft spoken and I felt I could trust him; there was something friendly about him, but at the same time he was 100% an officer of high rank, not a man likely to enter into discussion. 

‘At ease, cadet-student.’

‘Sir.’

‘Let me make the basic rules of this household clear, cadet-student. You are welcome here and I’ll hope you’ll fit in. You have your own room, and the facilities upstairs are adequate for maintaining your own things, your uniform and such, and for executing the tasks you will be given. Our housekeeper, Ms Chow, will get you what you need. Your file tells me that you have developed nicely in your school cadet corps, and that since you enlisted as an Army cadet you have done two stints at Elite Camp, you are doing courses in Mess & Household and Army cadet drill.’

‘Yes Sir.’ 

‘That’s encouraging, cadet-student. I also note, however, that your assessments say you’re not yet ready to serve at the highest level. A bit of a personality issue, they say, you appear to be a bit too pleased with yourself, and too independent. Not fully aware of what service really means. Please be aware that you enter this household as a cadet-student, to serve as Mess & Household cadet. You are under orders to obey me, my wife and my son. It will be easiest for you if you understand that you are here as a servant, and in an inferior position. Do you understand?’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘One of the conditions for this arrangement is that you’re allowed to go to school, off-base. This is an unusual privilege. The disciplinary regulations of the cadet program apply to your school hours too – behaviour, uniform, obedience, 8.5/10 level in your grades. You are not a schoolboy in a cadet program, you are an Army Cadet with special permission to attend school. Understood?

‘Yes Sir.’

‘Every morning at 5.45 you will stand outside my office in your cadet whites, ready for your morning inspection; I’ll give you your duties for the rest of the day then. Every night after dinner you will visit me here, and then we will go over your performance of the day. Now, I am not a stickler for corrections or punishments, but I do believe that if there’s anything not quite 100% a swift response is in order, I don’t like drawing that out. I take it you have accepted corporal punishment, cadet?’

‘Permission to speak, Sir?’

‘Yes?’

‘I have not, Sir, accepted corporal punishment, Sir, I believe you’ll find that in my records, Sir.’

He paged through my file. I stood to attention.

‘Ah yes, here it is, you have not accepted corporal punishment so far, I see. Are you aware that I am your commanding officer, I represent your legal guardian, the Army, and as such I can overrule that, cadet?’

I said I understood – but I didn’t. I didn’t grasp what he meant by ‘legal guardian.’ Surely my Dad… But I hesitated to ask.

‘Yes Sir.’

‘Good. I’ll assess your behaviour here first, and if you perform well, there will be no need to change that – but please understand that my standards are high, and I will not hesitate to overrule that objection so you may be punished accordingly.’

‘Permission to speak Sir?’

‘Yes?’

‘I am still a foreign national, Sir, and as such I believe it is my right to deny corporal punishment, Sir?’

‘You are mistaken, cadet-student. Perhaps the status of ‘ward of the Army’ is not clear to you? You are no longer a free citizen, schoolboy, cadet, foreigner or otherwise. You are no longer in any position to ‘deny’ anything. Is that clear?’

‘… Yes Sir’

‘Please understand too that your performance here will determine your future in the armed forces from your 16th birthday on. I will be responsible for your development in school and as a Mess & Household cadet. Positive reports and good school results will be noted, punishments will of course be reported and will count as demerits. That will influence whatever the Cadet Program decides for you. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, cadet?’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘One more thing. My son, XY, is 11 years old, and has just entered secondary school, the Junior Military School here on the base. He’ll be in uniform during the day and he’s under instruction to be formally dressed in non-school hours and during the weekend. That’s new for him, he’s only just getting along in his cadet platoon, and he’s settling in. You will have to set a good example for him. He doesn’t outrank you as a cadet, but he is my son, and as such you are placed in a position of inferiority. You address him as ‘cadet’ and you will obey him. Is that clear?’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘I point your attention in particular to uniform care for my son – that will take a lot of work, as he is still in early training, and there’s often something wrong with his appearance. So please note that any disciplinary measures against my son will reflect badly on you, cadet.’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘Finally, a few basic rules. You will serve 24 hours a day, and there are no holidays or free Sundays, but I will of course make you available to meet your parents. Never speak without being spoken to, never make unnecessary noises, no humming or singing. I like a calm, quiet house. In your room you may sit on your chair or on the bed, otherwise you only sit when invited to or ordered to. Make sure your uniform is 110% perfect, do your duty in reporting any infraction or mistake voluntarily, do not hesitate in asking to be corrected, however painful that might be, is that clear?’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘The Army has informed your father of the program they have decided on for the next months, until your 16th birthday; he still has to formally agree to that, but I understand that will not be an issue, particularly because you will tell him that you wholeheartedly agree to that program. Is that clear?’

‘Permission to speak Sir?’ I had no idea what had been decided for me, nor what they were telling Dad, or what I was agreeing to.

‘Denied. Please report to the kitchen; Ms Chow will give you dinner, and at 7.30 the family will have dinner and you will serve. Dismissed.’

‘Sir.’

[cadet-aviator]

Into service (4)

We took the short walk over the Army compound to that same leafy lane with the old colonial officers houses, and to be sure, one of them was my new ‘post’, as the officer called it.

He dropped me off at the front door, and added a few final remarks, which was nice of him. 

‘Here you are, cadet, I’m leaving you in the hands of colonel S, who is now your host, but most of all your commanding officer and your legal guardian – you’ll find all that in the documents I gave you.’

‘Yes Sir.’ I didn’t ask what he meant by ‘legal guardian’.

‘Right, well, it’s not up to me, cadet, but a bit of advice: you have learned a lot about cadet life, so far, in Elite Camp, in school, and I can see you can take care of your uniform, but from now on, the bar is set much higher. I don’t know yet what the Cadet Program has in store for you, but for now you will be serving the colonel and his family as a Mess & Household cadet, as you’ve been trained to.’

‘Yes Sir’. 

‘I know you have special permission to go to school off-grounds, that’s a real privilege, so make sure there are no reasons to revoke that.’

‘Yes Sir.’ I didn’t ask what he meant by ‘revoking’ – surely I was to go to school as always?

‘Just focus completely on what the colonel orders, forget about everything else, be 200% perfect, and you’ll be OK, understood?’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘Dismissed, cadet’

‘Thank you Sir.’

He rang the doorbell for me. The door opened; another junior officer told me to go in; he checked the paperwork with the kind officer who had accompanied me.

Until that moment I had very little idea of what was in store for me – apart from knowing I was to live with the family of an Army colonel, in his pleasant colonial house on the base. I knew very little else. I knew that I would be a ward of the Army, but I hadn’t asked what that meant. I had heard the words ‘legal guardian’, but I hadn’t inquired about that neither. I guess I was thinking that I would now be able to live in a really disciplined household, with clear rules and with people who were completely at ease in the Army structure – unlike my Dad, who had always tried to keep me grounded in civil society. 

The junior officer was curt. 

‘Attention!’

I stood to attention, as I had stood hundreds of times before. He checked the papers.

‘Cadet-student, welcome to this post. You are here as Mess & Household servant to his excellency the colonel and his family. This is a permanent post, that is to say you are in service seven days a week, 24 hours a day, apart from your school hours and school work, and occasional meetings with your parents. You will be given a list of your tasks and your uniform requirements. I will show you to your quarters; you will change into your cadet whites, and wait for the colonel. If you have any questions you will address them to the colonel. Follow me.’

I grabbed my suitcase and followed him, up the stairs. It was a lovely house, very old-fashioned, clearly the home of a nice family, and everything was pristine – nothing out of order, no kids’ clothes lying about, or any of that. I liked that.

My room was on the top floor, an attic space. There was a small bathroom on the landing and I noticed the washing machine was there too – I was already thinking of how many shirts I had packed and how many I was going to need. 

The junior officer left me there: ‘Get changed and then stand and wait downstairs. Dismissed.’

The room was tiny, dark. There was one bed – a cot, to be precise. I guessed it had been a servant’s room long ago – and then I realised that it still was: I was the servant.

[cadet-aviator]

Into service (3)

After the little ceremony I was told to sign a few documents; I noticed my Dad’s signature was on them, so I had no hesitation to sign too. I was too excited to sit down and read everything, it seemed out of place.

A junior officer took me aside. He said he was going to accompany me to my new lodgings, the house of colonel S, where I was to stay ‘until further notice’.

This junior officer noticed I was shaking a bit, with the impact of just having sworn an oath, and not knowing what was going to happen next – after all, I had just walked out of my own house, where I had lived for the past three years, with my parents and Mrs. Lee, and now I was just a cadet with a suitcase.

He very kindly but firmly said a few words to me. 

‘At ease, cadet-student, catch your breath. That was quite the ceremony. We’re all pleased that you, as a foreign person, have chosen to commit to the Army Cadet program, and the Malaysian Armed Forces after your cadet program ends.’

‘Thank you Sir.’ I relaxed a bit.

‘Now, you already know the drill, you’ve been to Elite Camp twice, so I guess you know that as a cadet you are here to serve, to obey, to be quiet and diligent, to follow orders to the letter. You already know that 100% is not good enough for us, right?’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘Good. I’ll be giving you the papers you and your father signed, and I recommend you read them, later on, so you’ll know exactly what your status as a ward of the Army entails, but it all comes down to what you already know. Discipline, obedience, service. The only exceptional thing about your status is that you have permission to attend a school outside of the Army compound; your performance in school however will be assessed as that of a cadet-student, and you will be judged accordingly. Is that clear, cadet?

‘Yes Sir.’

‘From now on, you will ask permission before speaking – and I recommend that you don’t ask permission often. We all expect cadets to be silent and focused – not chatting away. Understood?’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘Good. Let’s go.’

(All images are AI-generated)

[cadet-aviator]

Into service (2)

Eventually I was informed of what was going to happen. One Friday morning my inspection officer handed me my ‘orders’, as he called them. They were very succinct. For the first time I was addressed as ‘cadet-student X’. 

‘Cadet-student X will report to the main office of the Army Cadet program today at 5.45 pm in full Army cadet uniform, where he will swear the oath of obedience to the Armed Forces General Constituted Regulations (the Army rulebook) and the government of the Malay nation. 

At 6pm he will be taken to the house of Colonel S, where he will be stationed until further notice. Cadet will bring all necessary uniform items, school books and other necessities, toiletries and a small number of personal effects. Cadet-student X will serve the Colonel’s household as Mess & Household student. Cadet-student X will attend St.F’s High School during the day.’

This was read out to me 30 minutes before school, so I had to pack like crazy, trying not to forget any part of the uniforms – ‘whites’, ‘greens’ and school – and make quick decisions about what those ‘personal effects’ might be. A picture of my Mom and Dad, my diary, things like that. Since I had cleared my room of anything ‘superfluous’ this was not a huge task. I filled a suitcase which I left by the door of our house.

All day at school I found it hard to focus. What was the meaning of the ‘oath’? Had they informed Dad that I would be gone, today? Wo was Colonel S.? What was the family like? If I was going to ‘serve the houshold’ did that mean I no longer had M&H training? And so on.

My school mates and cadet mates were equally puzzled, but encouraging. The one question I could not answer was ‘Does this mean you’re going to be a Malaysian soldier’? I didn’t have to answer that, I said, since any decision about entering the Military Academy was still years away, right? I fully expected that I would be free to make my own choices when I graduated. I assumed that would mean going back to Europe with my parents. 

School ended at 2.30. I ran home and changed into my ‘greens’, as usual. Left home and reported in the barracks at 2.55, for the 3pm drill. Did that for two hours, a bit numb, not paying attention enough, incurring two demerits. Drill ended at 5pm; ran home to change my shirt, freshen up, get my suitcase.

Told mrs. Lee I wasn’t going to be home for dinner, and realised there and then that I was not going to be home at all, ‘until further notice’. I called my Dad at the office, but he was unavailable. I didn’t leave a note, I assumed he was fully aware of what was about to happen.

I was at the door of the Cadet Office at 5.35pm. 

Quick inspection, of course; then I was put in front of the Commanding Officer, and I was sworn in.

I was 15, a schoolboy and a cadet, a ward of the Army, I had left home. I had no idea what had really happened.

(All images are AI-generated)

[cadet-aviator]

Into service (1)

After we had done the paperwork, and Dad had mailed it off, things were pretty normal, for while, but I was excited, and curious, and apprehensive, not knowing what was in store for me, what kind of family I was going to be living with, what the Cadet Program would decide for me.

‘Pretty normal’ meant, of course, living with tons of work, at home, at school, in the cadet training, really strict inspections every day, several times a day, at home, at school, at cadets. 

Dad was a bit relieved, now the arrangement had been settled on, he felt less guilty when he had to leave me alone with Mrs. Lee. I did notice, however, that the arrangement was also a bit of a defeat for him. He felt he had been forced, more or less, to allow me to do my own thing. There was no reasonable objection to it all – I worked hard, I was never in trouble, and I was clearly happy with it – but it didn’t sit well, with him. 

It was akward, at times. There was an evening when I came home after drill, in my 'greens', and I found Dad watching TV - 'Hello son, how was drill?' 'Fine Sir, what are you watching?' 'O, some documentary on WWII' - and then he continued to watch, forgetting that he needed to order me to sit.

And so I stood for twenty minutes, as he was watching that - nothing unusual for me, just standing at ease, hands behind my back – and only then he noticed: 'O geez, son, please sit down.' 'Thank you Sir.'

It was awkward for him, mostly. I remember just feeling like an obedient cadet, following the rules.

He once suggested we take another trip, like the one to Thailand, ‘just us’, but now I had to let my cadet obligations take precedence. 'Sorry Sir, I have to serve at the officers’ mess on Saturday, and I have chapel duties on Sunday, Sir.’ 

I felt ready. I couldn’t help feeling proud of who I was. After all, I had done it all myself, I took care of my own laundry, I polished my shoes, I did everything I was told and I had been a perfect boy for everybody – teachers, officers, fellow cadets – and even for my Dad.

The best word for it is ‘pure’. I felt pure, as in ‘clean’ and ‘unsullied’ and ‘real’; I saw myself in the mirror, in my school uniform, and I would feel happy to see the perfect knot in my tie, the sharp crease in my sleeves, the shine on my shoes. 

And I had another feeling – a bit more indistinct, perhaps: I wanted to be seen, valued – even appreciated. I won’t say ‘loved’, because that was clearly something between me and Dad – but he wasn’t able to truly recognise the level of discipline I had become accustomed to. Only the best officers in the Army and the Cadet Program could really see that.

It was that desire which made me want to leave and live close to the Army. The punishments and the inspections encouraged me, they humbled me, they touched that nerve in me that made me want to compete and excel. 

I remember talking to other cadets about it. No one had been in my position before. I took one of them along to the shops, to buy new shirts, new ties. They laughed: ‘But you look fine! We all think you’re bloody perfect!’

‘Yes, well, thanks, I have a feeling the bar will be set higher, soon. And these ties have had a lot of wear already.’

You might think that the constant scrutiny had put me on edge, and it did, but I don’t remember it as stressful at all. It was something like running down a narrow corridor as fast as you can, without touching the walls – and when you did touch them, you felt bad about your lack of focus. 

The Army compound was quite large; there was a whole section with colonial style houses, even villas, one of which I had visited when I was invited to tea with the Admiral. Most of the higher ranking officers lived there.

It was nice, old-fashioned, lots of greenery and gardens. I walked through the are whenever I could, wondering if I might be posted with a family there. 

I would find out soon enough.

[cadet-aviator]

Into the absurd life (7)

After about four weeks my Dad sat me down for 'the big chat', as he called it.

It was quite an emotional moment, because he and I would formally agree to a new arrangement, which was to have far-reaching consequences for the next years of my life.

I also remember it vividly, because I had had a very busy day, that day. I had 'failed' in two tests, at school, meaning I had scored a little lower than my compulsory 8.5/10, and I had not yet been told what the consequences would be.

And when Dad called me into his study I had just come back from a particulary gruelling couple of hours in Mess&Household training, one of those times when I seemed unable to please my superiors, they found fault in everything, and saddled me with a huge amount of demerits, which would wipe out any free time on Saturdays and Sundays for weeks to come.

Dad did not share with me everything that had gone on, the formalities that he had to go through – it was clear that everybody had taken this ‘temporary arrangement’ very seriously - school, army, Dad.

But what it boiled down to was simple enough: as my Dad was going to be away for a few months, the Admiral was willing to arrange for me to live in the barracks compound, in the house of the family of one of the officers.

I’d have my own room, share the life of the family and I would go to school as normal, but all the rules and regulations and restrictions I was now under would of course be in force. I was expected to obey the officer completely and 'chip in' with the chores of the household. All my cadet activities were within the barracks, so that was convenient and safe – I wouldn’t have to travel across the city, or something. 

For practical purposes I was to be made ‘a ward of the Armed Forces’. That meant that in my Dad’s absence, the officer in charge of me would be able make decisions when necessary, for instance if I had to go to hospital, or if there was any trouble at school, or something. That made sense. I had to obey anyone of higher rank anyway.

Among the documents my Dad was asked to sign there was one directed at me. I could indicate which ‘course’ of training I would like to pursue during the next two years of my Cadet program, until my 18th birthday. I could choose active military service, even apply for preliminary commando training. I could choose engineering or the medical branch, I could apply for IT-projects or for transport, there was the athletic department (become a PE-instructor), and then there was ‘mess and househould’ training, which I had done a lot of, so far.

‘Well?’ said Dad.

I asked: ‘Are those all the options, Sir?’

‘No, there is one at the bottom which you can fill out yourself.’

‘Thank you Sir. Please may I fill that in then, Sir?’

‘Sure, son, what did you have in mind?’

I wrote: ‘Cadet X humbly asks his Superior officers to determine which course they deem best suited for this Cadet.’

Dad read it, and said: ‘You want to leave it up to them?? They could send you into the jungle with a gun on your back…’

‘Yes Sir. They have to decide for me, Sir. Whatever they decide I will accept, Sir.’

Only now do I realise what that must have meant to Dad: 'Whatever they decide I will accept' must have sounded like 'I’ll do anything to get away from you, Dad.' 

Which is not what I meant to say. It was just the obedient and highly disciplined cadet speaking, the new me.

I signed, my Dad signed.

The Army Cadets now had me. Seemed like a very sensible thing to do at the time. I went to my room and ironed my shirts.

[cadet-aviator]

Into the absurd life (6)

That letter from my mother did affect me a lot, though. I was not myself, for a few weeks – not that anyone noticed, because school and cadets took up all of my time, of course.

This is where I was at. I was 15; I had been a cadet for about three years. Being a cadet was a mandatory part of school life, first, then I had been introduced to these nice Army social events, this so-called ‘conviviality’, to which my cadet mates and I had been invited and where senior officers would chat to us about life in general and life in the military specifically. It was there where I was first presented to the Admiral, and I had experienced the profound emotion of having to kneel for an older man. In that state of ‘wonderful confusion’ the Admiral had kindly signed me up for Elite Camp, and after that I was ‘absorbed’ into the Army Cadet program. As you have read, perhaps, from then on my life had become one big system of discipline, rules, regulations, inspections, corrections, punishments. Within that system, almost all of my personal freedoms and free time were taken from me, but within that system, I flourished. I was balanced, active, engaged, happy.

What helped was that the Cadet staff was by and large friendly and reasonable. They were strict, certainly, they would never bend the rules, but there was very little shouting or bullying. Changes in my schedule or plans they had made for me were always presented to me in a normal tone of voice. There was very little stress, in that regard. And to be extra clear: I never suffered any abuse of a sexual nature. Never. My new, stricter regulations did include a clear ban on masturbation. This had never been an issue with me.

During the 240-hour correction period after the first Elite Camp, with daily inspections every morning, and long hours of Mess & Household training, I had begun to see that it was all part of a challenge for me to become the perfect cadet, the perfect boy, a perfect example of selfless service and obedience.

I began to understand that every tiny element of my life had to be addressed, controlled, changed, polished, and directed towards that goal. This is why they had ‘encouraged’ me to clear my room of anything ‘unnecessary’, not to punish me, but to help me become ‘selfless’. The same way I had agreed to getting rid of all non-uniform items of clothing. I had changed my life in order to meet those challenges.

Please note that this was more than 35 years ago, in South-East Asia, in a society where hierarchy and obedience were normal and western notions of ‘questioning authority’ and ‘doing your own thing’ were frowned upon.

You did not cross a street when the light was red. Unthinkable. The school I went to had been established in colonial times, and much of the practices had remained the same – uniforms, badges, cadets, chapel, discipline – even though the curriculum was very much up to date (it was a prestigious school, actually).

My Mom’s letter made me realise just how involved I had become; it made me question how much of my devotion to discipline was a way of avoiding the reality of insecurity and emotional damage, which her departure had caused. 

It brought it all back, and it made me sad – I didn’t show that in school, or during cadet duties, but at home I was very quiet and found myself crying a bit, at times.

I wanted to talk to Dad about it, but felt that I couldn’t – he had never really opened up to me about what was going on with my mother, probably because he didn’t want to burden me with it, perhaps also because he himself didn’t quite know how to deal with it all. He engaged with his job the same way I engaged with washing and ironing uniform shirts and standing honour guard at the local WWII memorial for six hours on Remembrance Saturday.

Normally I’d then be thinking of nothing but ‘is my appearance 100% correct?’ Now I thought lang and hard about what my mother had written to me. I knew for certain I was still that emotional, loving person.

There was nothing wrong with me, so to say. I also knew that I was going to be a perfect cadet. Come what may.

[cadet-aviator]

Into the absurd life (5)

Dad didn’t really let on how he felt. When I say he was very busy, I’m not exaggerating – he was both acting in his diplomatic role, and as a kind of dealmaker between the Malaysian Navy and a consortium in our European home country – I believe it concerned a huge contract for building submarines or ships. 

So apart from my friends and school mates, and the kind comments of my school mentors, there was very little to make me think or change my mind about this. I simply had too much to do to really reflect on it.

Except for one moment: when I suddenly got a letter from my mother. I may have mentioned a few times that she was not well and she was ‘recovering’ in Europe, but the hard truth was that she’d become an alcoholic and developed serious mental issues. At the time of my transfer into the barracks she had been away for about two and half years, and apart from a regular call or a card or something I hadn’t really heard much from her at all.

But here it was. And I remember only opening it when I was outside, after training, in the little park near the barracks, and I read it there on a park bench. It was very tough to take. First of all, because as my mother hadn’t been around in the last few years, she wasn’t really a ‘presence’ in my life. My Dad and I talked, and I was close to him, but my mother didn’t have a ‘voice’, so to speak. And I had almost forgotten that she could be someone to talk to, or someone who knew me.

It was a nice clear warm letter. It had a specific point to make: she wanted me to think and then think again about getting involved with the Army Cadets further. She’d never thought of me as a military person; she did think of me as very bright, and capable of great things, but she wrote that she’d always known me as an emotional boy, in touch with his feelings, capable of love. She didn’t say I couldn’t join, but she asked me to consider other things, that could be just as involving, just as challenging.

There was more, but I’ll leave it at that.

I sat there and read that, and read it again. It was a fairly cool night (a bit of a breeze). I thought about those feelings, and wondered if I had really shut those out. I remember that breeze, because it played with the sleeves of my shirt, and I looked at my sleeves, and saw the sharp crease, I had made – being by now a master-ironer. I felt the shirt on my back and my chest. I felt the collar around my neck. It was all perfect. And I remember how good that felt, and I remember saying ‘But I’m doing all this for you, Mom’.

Make of it what you will, reader, but at the time – 15 years old – I felt that my Mom had brought unhappiness and insecurity into my life, and cadets had done the opposite. Becoming a cadet had saved me.

And I got up and walked home – no, I marched, as I had been taught, rule 9 or 10 or 11 of the Manual: ‘Even when a cadet is by himself, he will show proper military demeanour.’

When I got home it was 9.10 pm. Twenty minutes before bedtime, no immediate tasks. I positioned myself in my bedroom, facing the wall.

I came ‘to attention’, stood ‘at ease’ for 18 minutes exactly, then proceeded to the bathroom. I was in bed at 9.30 exactly. That was the rule. It made me happy.

[cadet-aviator]

Into the absurd life (4)

It was not easy to talk to Dad about all this. I was so thrilled that I could be a full time cadet - apart from school - and I made extra efforts to be really prepared. I could see that it was painful for him, my mother ill and gone to Europe, and now me so keen to leave him.

There were some others I could share my thoughts with. 

My fellow cadets, of course, were in awe, and frankly jealous: I wasn’t even 16 yet and already I was on course for the prestigious Academy.

I had to contradict them, I said I wasn’t at all sure of going to the Academy, there were lots of things still up in the air. For one, my parents’ posting in Asia was due to end in about 18 months, and Dad had already made it clear that ‘we’ were going back to Europe; that was going to coincide with me finishing my Bac and then go to university somewhere. Entering the Military Academy here and becoming a Malay citizen was not really on the list of options - so far.

There was another important influence. In school we had mentors, usually the more experienced teachers, and I got along really well with mine.

There was never much to discuss though, my grades were excellent, I was super-disciplined; the chats were usually over pretty quickly (so many other things on my plate, always). 

During these weeks my mentor sat me down for a few more in-depth talks. Naturally, he didn’t wish to question my choices when it came to cadets, as it was a mandatory part of school life anyway.

But he was wise: he pointed out that my talents might lead me to fields I hadn’t really considered. Perhaps an international business school would be interesting for me, had I considered the law, what about biochemistry… He also inquired about my emotional life (without mentioning the usual adolescent issues, sex, girlfriends, which were obviously irrelevant). He had noticed the ‘decline’ of my social life, and he was familiar with the interventions of the Army Cadet staff in my school life. That seemed like a lot to take in. Was I really happy coping with all that on my own?

‘I am, Sir, really, Sir.’

‘No doubts?’

‘No Sir, and my Cadet supervisor is really helpful, Sir, he visits every day, Sir.’

‘Every day?’

‘Yes Sir. I have an inspection every morning at 6, Sir.’

‘Inspection of what, son?’

‘Everything, Sir – cadet uniform, school uniform, general cleanliness, my room, tasks, homework, housework, my attitude…’

‘I see. I had no idea. That’s very… thorough, isn’t it?

‘Yes Sir. It has to be, Sir, to keep me at 110% Sir.’

'Well, I have to say your uniform in school always looks fine to me, son. I guess those inspections work, then?'

'They do, Sir, it took some getting used to, I admit, Sir, having an officer come to the house every morning, Sir, but it's really helpful for me, Sir, and so are the corrections, Sir.'

‘Do you get corrected often?’

‘I’m afraid so, yes Sir. Two or three times a week, Sir.’

‘And what happens then?’

‘I’m grateful of course, Sir, because I learn from them Sir. I’m usually given correction tasks, Sir. Like extra hours of household duties in the barracks, extra lines to write, Sir. I copied out the whole Cadet Manual last week, Sir.'

‘I wonder where you find the time…’

‘Just all Sunday mostly, Sir. That’s my free time usually, Sir, so that’s perfect for punishments or extra duties, Sir, like attending chapel service, Sir.’

‘What do you do with your regular work then?’

‘Well, I sometimes get up extra early, Sir, like at 4, Sir, to do the extra work, Sir.’

‘How does your father feel about all this?’

‘Well, Sir, he was a bit reluctant at first, Sir, but after all, he signed me up for this school and the cadets, so he got used to me wearing uniform a lot, Sir. And of course he doesn’t object to me doing well, Sir.’

‘You wear your uniform at home, too, then?’

‘Yes Sir. Cadet rules, Sir: when I’m not in school uniform I’m in cadet uniform, Sir.’

‘All the time?’

‘All the time, Sir.’

'Even when you go to the movies, or something?'

'Yes Sir. Of course, Sir.'

‘I thought you boys would put on something at bit more … casual?’

‘Some do, yes Sir, but I don’t, because of Cadet regulations, but also because I don’t want to, Sir, I am happy to show discipline this way, Sir.'

‘But surely..’

‘And I don’t even have casual things anymore, Sir, when I grew out of my old clothes they were just replaced with uniform items, Sir.’

'And you don't miss your old clothes?'

'No Sir, not at all Sir. I am a cadet now, Sir, so I want to be in uniform, of course, Sir.'

‘Dear me, I had no idea things were so extreme. I do hope you have time to think about what you’re doing, son.’

‘I don’t really have the time, Sir, apart from our chats, Sir. I get a lot of homework of course, Sir. And because I am not allowed to do things with boys who are not in uniform...

'Say that again?'

'I'm sorry Sir if I wasn't clear, Sir, since my summer at Elite Camp I am under strict instructions, Sir, and any social event where boys my age are not dressed in uniform I'm not allowed to attend, Sir.'

'That explains the lack of friends and such, then?'

'I suppose so, Sir, but it's fine, Sir, my supervisor let me volunteer for more cadet duties, Sir, so I don’t really think about it all that much, I feel everything makes sense to me, Sir. I’m sure you agree that obedience comes before everything, Sir. It’s just a lot of work, Sir.’

‘I’d best let you get on with it then, son. But do talk to me again…’

‘Yes Sir, much appreciated Sir. Thank you Sir.’

And then I’d run home, and change into my 'greens' if I had drill between 3pm and 5pm, or my whites if I had Mess&Household training from 3pm to 5pm and remember to bring my gloves if after Mess&Household I had to serve in the dining room, and get laundry going, and clean my room, polish my Dad’s shoes, quickly eat something with Mrs. Lee, then report for drill or training and undergo inspections when I get there, and work hard, volunteer any infractions or flaws so I might be corrected, then run home, and get the laundry from the machine, and prepare all uniforms for the next day, and start homework, and be ready for a random inspection, and off to bed at 9.30 PM, set the alarm at 4.40 AM to do the ironing before the 6 AM inspection. Then face inspection, change into school uniform, run off to school, between 7.30am and 2.30pm. And then more of the same the next day, and the next, and trying not to ask Dad about any developments – because cadets obey, they just obey.

[cadet-aviator]

Into the absurd life (3)

Also a bit unusual was being ‘invited for a chat’ a few times, after M&H training, or after drill.

These really were chats (not just an officer informing me of a decision), and I didn’t know the officers who invited me.

They were of high rank (requiring me to kneel and make the gesture of submission, of course) but I think most of them were retired, or semi-retired. 

It was all a bit ‘grandfatherly’. They would ask me ‘normal’ things. About my life at home, my parents, how I felt about my mother’s absence, how I felt about school, what I thought about life in Malaysia, and so forth. It was clear that they knew a lot about me anyway, so I had to be absolutely honest and forthcoming. I felt apprehensive and embarrassed, at first, but then I was fairly comfortable with it. The questions just kept coming, all very calm and purposeful.

Sometimes it could suddenly feel like an exam. Did I know my Cadet Manual? 

What was rule 3.1? What did rule 3.1 mean to me? Did I completely understand what obedience meant? What was the religious status of the Admiral’s ancestry? I had copied the Manual out numerous times, as a punishment, now I found to my surprise that I had internalised the entire tekst, I knew most of it by heart. One officer asked me to describe my cadet uniform in minute detail, how I tied my tie, how I ironed my shirt, where the creases had to be, what the lapels meant, what kind of underwear a cadet was allowed to use, what the correct procedure for polishing shoes was - all very very precise.

On other occasions my disciplinary record was brought up, out of nowhere. The officer would go over everything. On how I visited my friends A, B and C, two months earlier. Did I obtain permission for that. Did I know Manual rule 6.8?

I did: ‘Yes Sir: “Cadet shall not engage in non-cadet activities without explicit permission by his commanding officer, for which a written application needs to be submitted, stating date and time of said event, character of said event, estimated traveling times, et cetera.”’ And then he made me to explain all over again how only one of my friends was in uniform, one was just in shirt and tie, but the other was informal, and how that contravened the instruction not to interact with non-uniformed boys, and so on. Had I reported the incident? And what was my correction? What did I learn from that? Did I talk to my friends about it? How did I think about other boys who lack correct discipline in their appearance? Could a cadet like me still consider them friends?

And so on. It was both very friendly and relentless at the same time. I was puzzled by it, surely this was all old hat? I assumed they were checking to see if I was really the cadet I seemed to be, and I assumed this might be because I was under consideration to live with the Admiral. So as per usual, I tried my very best. 

What was also puzzling is that I was always dismissed in a friendly way, and there were no demerits, which I did not regret.

[cadet-aviator]

Into an absurd life (2)

It all went over my head, of course – my intention had been clear, I was a dutiful cadet and an underage boy, so I was not consulted by anyone. Cadets obey. 

All I know is that some weeks later my Dad was invited to have tea with the Admiral, all very civil, and a few days after that a big envelope of official documents arrived that he took to his office, to sign. For weeks he wouldn’t tell me what was going on.

It took some time before all this was processed. I was not in a mad hurry to leave home, but I was very apprehensive, and curious. For starters: was I going to be posted in the Admiral’s household, or someone else’s? What would that life be like?

I just went through my busy day to day schedule. Changing uniforms three times a day, facing the morning inspections, doing my training three nights a week and my cadet drills, two afternoons per week, applying myself to my school work, dutifully 'absorbing' my punishments. I didn’t notice much out of the ordinary, except of course that the ordinary was pretty extraordinary, for a boy my age.

The inspections at 6 AM became much more strict. The inspector was usually a young officer, sometimes an older cadet. They had always been soft spoken, respecting the fact that my Dad was often still asleep, but now they were much more direct, and their orders were given ‘at parade ground volume’.

Before they had even been rather nice, helping me to look perfect, giving me tips, but now they were judgmental, even annoyed when they noticed something below 100% and they were quick with handing me demerits. I didn't ask, of course, but it seemed to me that I was suddenly screened more vigorously because they were aware I might be moving to the barracks, soon.

I was now ‘encouraged’ to adopt a very short haircut, and go to the barber in the barracks compound once a week, not once every two or three weeks.

I was aways inspected in my Army Cadet greens, but the inspector woud now also take a close look at my school uniform, which I had to put on after inspection.

On some days he waited in my bedroom while I changed and then performed the same scrutiny of my school shirt, shorts, socks and school tie. This was new, and it was pretty 'invasive', to get undressed with the inspector present. What was also new is that they could give me demerits for flaws in my school uniform, too.

Was this a sign of much stricter regime, to be expected once I moved away?

[cadet-aviator]

Into the absurd life (1)

I had to leave Dad. I found that very confusing, and distressing, but the thought stuck with me.

There came a moment when that hit me – blindsided me, almost. On one lovely Sunday morning, Dad and me chatting at the kitchen table, he showed me some of the pics he took during our trip to Thailand. I had agreed to just wear school uniform there, as a compromise.

It had been a lovely relaxed trip, so relaxed, in fact, that on some pictures I could be seen with a loose collar, and a loosened tie, sometimes with my hands in my pockets. Now it was already a bit strange that during that trip a kid like me would insist on wearing a tie and school shorts, but seeing myself in this casual state actually shocked me.

I realised that now, only a few months on, I would never ever allow myself such a lapse in discipline - I actually felt a bit sick seeing myself like that. Dad didn’t understand why I suddenly had a tear in my eye. It was this attitude that was the reason I failed at camp – a lack of real motivation. This was the weakness that had given me 240 hours of correction service, hours and hours of work, thousands of punishment lines. And it had happened because Dad had convinced me to let standards slip.

What made it extra striking was that I had a powerful memory of the first times I had to wear the cadet uniform, when I was 12, just into this new life, this new school, and the whole thing had scared me terribly.

At that time Dad had been very reassuring, 'Don't worry son, all boys have to do this, you'll get used to it' and when I told him that I'd been told that you could be punished for not wearing your tie correctly and how I panicked about that, he had taken me apart and very calmly and gently taught me to make the perfect knot.

And a year or so later, when I was one year into the school cadet program and my cadet officers had 'encouraged' me to wear uniform at all times, told me that it was fine, as far as he was concerned.

And when they 'advised' me to get rid of any casual clothes ('unbecoming to good cadets') Dad was OK with the officer 'helping me' to put everything in a bin bag and dispose of it. All my jeans, my hoodies, my t-shirts. It was Dad who had first guided me into this uniformed life.

I also remembered what had happened at the airport, before we flew back: we had some time to spare, I had gone for a strict short military style haircut, and I had made a promise to myself, there and then, that I was going to be a better boy, I was going to wear uniform forever, I was going to stay pure, I was going to obey, and I was going to serve.

All that hit me hard, that morning. My dear Dad was full of love for me and always tried to make me comfortable, allowing me to live a cadet life, but at the same time tried to keep me ‘grounded’ in a normal existence. And that was the elephant, the impossibility: I had to leave what he saw as ‘normal’ behind. I had come so far, already. I had worn nothing other than uniform for years now. I had completely internalised the discipline. I felt confident, strong, even pure. I wanted this to continue.

A life of obedience and service wasn’t bizarre to me, or lonely or strange, but secure and safe. It was ‘who I was’, as the Admiral had told me. He had said I needed to be taught the skills of a household officer, a servant, a footman, ‘I have a feeling that’s what might suit you best.’ He had told me that as I was on my knees before him, and I had been allowed to be in his presence because my appearance was flawless.

And it was the Admiral who had offered that I might come and live inside the barracks, now that my Dad was away so often, and lead the military life, perhaps in preparation for the National Military Academy. I could finish school while living there, as a boarder, in full discipline, every day.

All that was on my mind, and it worried me, depressed me; I never again wanted to be in a situation where I would not be perfect, no loose ties, loose collars. It was an insane offer - if you think about it, a kind of adoption by the Army, leaving behind a comfortable life with my Dad, whom I loved - but I wanted it, I wanted it so much.

I had been on my knees for the Admiral and when I was alone in my sparsely furnished bedroom I got on my knees again and every fibre in me was at ease with it, this is what I had to do, this is what I was.

Soon after, Dad informed me he unfortunately had to go on an extended trip, back to Europe and even to the US, ‘at least a month, maybe two, could even be longer’. I politely suggested he contact the Admiral’s office to see if the offer still stood. 

He did. The offer still stood. Things were put in motion.

(All images are AI-generated)

[cadet-aviator]

Into real life (4)

One morning the 6 AM inspection was particularly strict. I had to re-tie my tie (two demerits) and subsequently the young officer doing the inspection went through my whole wardrobe again, noted that I hadn't made my bed in accordance with the rules, and found a few other things not quite perfect - so more demerits, and that meant that my free Sunday afternoon was now gone.

I couldn't object, of course - there would be no point, because the inspection assessment of a cadet was always final - but for a moment I wanted to, because I happened to have made plans for that afternoon. I was going to spend time with some friends I hadn't seen in a while. I had obtained official permission to do that. That was now overruled.

And that bothered me, as it became increasingly clear that the new regulations had a profound impact on what was left of my social life.

I was 15, and not a robot: I had friends and mates in school, I was fond of them, some of them had been close to me for years – we competed in the Nationals, that created a bond.

Not all of my friends were as involved in Cadets as I was. For a lot of them the school routine and the cadet routine were just the official (unavoidable) part of life. At home they took off their uniforms and were normal kids with normal hobbies, games, music, movies, skateboards, and normal boys’ clothes. 

Spending time with them had been a part of my life. None of us had much free time, but we would meet up downtown for a coffee on a Saturday afternoon, chatting in a Starbucks, or after drill I'd go and see my mates who played football in the park and hang out for a while.

The fact that I'd show up in full uniform never bothered anyone, most of us were in uniform all week anyway.

But now I was an Army Cadet, and under orders to request permission first before attending any social event outside of school or cadet practice. Since I got back from Camp I was under strict instruction to not spend time in the company of boys my age who were not in uniform.

As a consequence, these friendly meetings became a problem. It was almost impossible to accept an invitation to, say, a birthday party, if I knew beforehand that it would be ‘casual’. 

If the invitation came from a friend, and he’d tell me ‘Just come in your uniform, we won’t mind, there will probably be others…’, I could of course not ask that he and the other boys would all be in shirt and tie, just for my sake.

It happened a few times that I had been given permission to go to a party only to find myself in the company of mates who were not in uniform, and I knew that I was in the wrong. I was not worried that I might be seen by an officer, that was no issue, as I was duty bound to report any transgression myself anyway. I did that, of course, and I was duly reprimanded and punished.

I chose to obey, even if it meant missing out on these things. I would tell a friend that I would drop by before the party if he’d do me the honour of putting on his school tie, and most of my real mates understood that, and humoured me (a lot of them were dressed formally often anyway).

I would then have a drink and a piece of cake and chat to his parents, and then leave before things got underway. It wasn’t too difficult, certainly in the long run, when training and school started, and I didn’t have any free time at all.

I obeyed. Any sadness, feelings about not seeing my friends, quickly evaporated.

Obedience was, by now, completely integral to my existence. It sounds strange, in retrospect, but knowing I followed the rules to the letter made me calm, comfortably numb, happy.

My supervisor noticed, after a few weeks, that my requests to attend to social events were getting fewer and fewer. During a random inspection, one evening, he remarked that if I had no interest in social engagements, I should volunteer to spend more hours in service.

It was yet another moment when the Cadet discipline restricted my life even further. I felt it slipping away, from me, but of course I answered:

‘Yes Sir. If the Cadet Program requires my attendance I will be honoured to comply Sir. I'm sure I can do better Sir. Please inform me of my new duties, Sir. Thank you Sir.’

(All images are AI-generated)

[cadet-aviator]

Into real life (3)

Back in school things seemed to take on their normal routine.

I was back in class, had to work hard on the new subjects, that had been added to my curriculum by the Army Cadet program, I got some extra tutorials (and extra homework for that, had to basically do two years of Chinese, chemistry and physics in one year), but it was nice to be there, see my mates, hang out in the corridors.

But that was about the extent of my 'freedom'. Every other minute of my life was now controlled, scheduled, regulated.

I was no longer in school cadets, as I was ‘transferred’ to an Army Cadet squad, which had a fine reputation on performing display drills, and had also competed in regional and national finals. 

By and large I spent every afternoon and early evening in the Army barracks. M&H training on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, drill on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. On Saturday mornings I was going to have to drill my own platoon of 10-12 year olds, but that took a bit of time to get organised.

On Saturday afternoons I had to be available for Mess service, if there was an event in the officers’ club, or something, and I was also expected to serve there if there was a dinner. 

Out of respect for my Dad my officer kept my Sundays free, to spend time at home, but I could be called up for ‘exceptional duties’, mostly to serve as a waiter during a lunch or stand as ‘honour guard’ during chapel services in a small group of cadets. We had to march in with regimental banners and stand to attention during the entire service.

Most Sundays I had quality time with Dad, but he was often busy, and I usually had a lot of homework or punishment work to get through. I had to do a lot of housework too, now that I had offered myself up to do all of Dad’s laundry too.

A real practical challenge was changing uniforms all the time. I mentioned before that I had to be in uniform always, except when asleep, in the shower or during school PE.

It took a lot of laundry, ironing and preparation to always have everything in perfect order.

I wore my school uniform five days a week, white shirt, blue and white striped tie, grey shorts, black shoes.

For M&H training I had to be in my ‘whites’, my school cadet uniform, white shirt, red and black striped tie, and all that; when we had lessons in dinner and lunch service I had to remember bringing my white gloves. Army Cadet drill was in green shirts, the uniform I wore during Elite Camp. All shirts had to be clean, fresh, perfectly ironed. I tried to cut corners once or twice, putting on a shirt that I'd worn the day before, and was that always found out.

At home I was to present myself for inspection every morning including weekends, but on weekdays I had to change to school uniform directly after that. If the inspection took a bit longer, or things were deemed insufficient, I could be ordered to change my entire uniform on the spot, and that meant I could run late for school.

When I got home after M&H I could stay in whites, after Drill I had to change into them, as it was designated as my default uniform for at home.

Sometimes this was only for a really short period, like when I got home at 8.50 and had to be in bed by 9.30 – I still had to get changed and make sure everything was perfect, because apart from the morning inspections I was prone to random visits by the inspectors, and they sometimes came at 9PM.

It was a lot to manage, but with the help of the inspections and regular punishments, I did OK. There was just no way I could escape it. It's quite amazing what a 15-year old can do if he sets his mind to it....

(All images are AI generated)

[cadet-aviator]

Into real life (2)

It was a week before school started, so this one week after Camp was actually quite calm, and things were relatively easy. Mess & Household training hadn’t resumed yet, there were more correction briefs every morning, to make up for my demerits, and I was expected to join Army cadet drills twice a week, but I found myself with some free time, time to think.

I spent a lot of time getting my wardrobe up to scratch, new shirts for school, new uniform items (I was growing, of course). 

I also took on more chores at home. Mrs. Lee remained in charge of cooking and most of the bigger things, like cleaning the house, but apart from my own laundry and ironing I now also did Dad’s, and I did it so well that he noticed and appreciated the improvement.

Not only was everything perfectly ironed and ready to go, I was able to anticipate what he might need on certain days – more formal, or less, checking what the weather was going to be like (hot or very hot), in short, I was a quiet and largely invisible butler to him.

He may have felt uncomfortable about my devotion to military duty, but he could see the love that went into my work, and he couldn’t argue with the benefits, of course – and it made him happy to see me happy.

He would not let me serve him at dinner, or Sunday lunch, he insisted that we share that like a normal family.

We had by then developed a nice kind of conversation in which I could be pleasant and open, and yet polite and respectful. I taught myself to engage in a discussion without openly contradicting him, but also without just sheepishly agreeing with him – as that would have frustrated him.

When I laid out clothes for him for Sunday and added a tie, he would sometimes wear it, and I loved nothing more than to both be perfectly dressed.

So things were pretty normal, for a while.

(All images are AI-generated)

[cadet-aviator]

Into real life (1)

When I got back I experienced a bit of the same kind of confusion as after my first weeks in Elite Camp, but much less so.

It was confusing to be home, in the comfort of our nice house; I quickly reverted to my own bedroom, which I had emptied out before, to make it a sober and spartan place, which I kept clean myself.

It was the place where I would sit to do my homework or my punishment work (the only place where I was allowed to sit without permission) , where I took meticulous care of my uniforms and, yes, where I would often quietly stand at ease whenever I had a gap in my schedule. 

It was confusing to be asked by my Dad to sit and have a cup of tea and just chat to him, about Camp, about my life, his life, Mom, things that had happened – I was already beginning to feel that it was wrong for me to talk freely like that, to offer up thoughts of my own; the long hours of not being allowed to speak to anyone at all, during the weeks in Camp, those hours of standing quietly by the door of an officer’s bedroom, had taken hold. 

It was a bit painful to see my Dad struggle to get me to open up and 'just be casual'. I had to ask him to please acknowledge that I was really bound to this strict cadet discipline and 'casual' was now difficult for me.

Would he please try to see me as his son, but also as the cadet that I was? Would he please accept my obedience, even my service? He already agreed to the inspections every morning, me calling him 'Sir', not sitting down until he told me to...

My Dad didn’t quite know what to make of it. He had gotten used to me being in uniform all the time, and to me being more than a little obsessed with keeping myself organised; he had noticed that the discipline had never interfered with my school performance, on the contrary, I was a star student, so he had no qualms with that; he also couldn’t object to the ‘wholesome’ activities – drill, in particular – which were just as good for my development as any soccer club might have been. He appreciated that I was so well-behaved and thoughtful and polite - he always felt I had the makings of a diplomat.

But he was worried (and a bit sad) to see me drift off into this military organisation; he worried that I was being brainwashed, as he called it, and he didn’t quite trust the intentions of my superiors. After all, enlisting in the Army was something you thought about, a deliberate decision, not something you were railroaded into, certainly not when you’re only 15.

I remember listening to his kind objections, his sincere concerns, and of course I could see the point. Apart from being my Dad, he was also my senior, and I had been taught to be respectful, not to talk back, not to engage in discussion.

But if I had indeed been brainwashed, marching and serving in the Elite Camp, or during the endless school cadet drills, it had worked, that is to say: I did not feel numb or otherwise strange, I felt as clearheaded as ever, but I felt confident in what I was doing. What my Dad said was all true, but something the Admiral had said, months ago, was even more true.

The Admiral had recognised that I had been troubled by my first experience of Camp, because there was something holding me back, the idea of being ‘a free thinker’, an ‘independent person’, whereas in reality I knew deep down I wanted to obey and serve. He saw clearly that I loved the discipline, the clarity of it. The Admiral had shown me that obedience and discipline were not at odds with who I was: they were exactly what I needed and wanted.

So talking to Dad I remembered very clearly standing guard at night in the corridors of the Elite Camp, in the dark, just breathing, focusing, trying to stay alert and watchful – losing a sense of self, becoming that silent obedient entity. 

I also remembered the long hours during my first correction period, when I had to work off those 240 hours worth of demerits, cleaning floors in the Army barracks, and how I had accepted that without question, and even felt completely at ease with it. And even as we were talking, Dad to son, at the kitchen table, I was mentally preparing for my first inspection the next morning, and the stack of laundry from the Camp I still had to do, and the mud on my shoes that had to come off… I wasn’t going to risk more demerits. I was going to be a perfect boy.

So brainwashed – yes, perhaps. What’s closer to the truth, for me, however, was the notion of being challenged. Here I was, this bright and sociable and (I assure you) level-headed schoolboy, a bit at odds with himself, like any 15-year old, and people like my drill instructor, my superior officer, my fellow cadets and indeed the Admiral had seen something in me, something they wished to challenge, by setting the bar at 100%, and then raising it, and then raising it further. To me, their discipline was not cold. It felt good to be appreciated, to know people were taking an interest in me.

At that, I got up, and came to attention (shoulders straight, hand behind my back), I addressed him formally (‘Sir’), and again asked him to please acknowledge that I was his son and I loved him, but I was a cadet and I wanted to live by cadet rules, as I was convinced that that would make me happy.

It was quite a moment. Dad hugged me and said, once again, that he didn’t like it, but he was OK with it – ‘If that’s what makes you happy, son, I won’t stand in your way, just promise me you’ll continue to talk to me as your Dad, not as some weird part of your hierarchy.’

'Yes Sir. I promise, Sir.'

The next morning was a Sunday. The inspector arrived promptly at 6 AM. I was ready for him.

He went through my entire wardrobe, commented on a few things that were below par (as if I hadn't just returned from seven weeks in the jungle), then handed me my correction brief – the first instalment of working off my demerits. This Sunday, I was told to copy out the entire Cadet manual, twice. I had been ordered to do that before, and it had taken me four of five hours, to do it just once. 

I had to hand it in by 6 PM at the Barracks, where I was to receive further orders.

'Dismissed.'

‘Yes Sir.’

I changed into my school cadet uniform, sat down and got to work.

[cadet-aviator]

Surrender (3)

At the end of my seven weeks in Camp I was called up for one of those ‘friendly chats’. By now I knew that they were not really ‘chats’, as I was there just to listen to what my senior officer had to say, and then politely agree to that, even show enthusiasm and gratitude.

They were not really ‘friendly’ neither, because the information I was given was final: they had made arrangements for me for the next year or so, without consulting me or my Dad. All that was expected was a ‘Yes Sir. Thank you Sir’.

If the officer was of high rank I knew was expected to kneel, and bow my head.

The gist of it was positive, however. A few months before I had been told that they felt I was going through the motions, obeying rules without showing true humility, true commitment. That had improved, they said. ‘But there is still a ways to go, before you can enter the service of a senior officer, cadet, or even dream of becoming part of the military yourself.’ 

Of course every minute of my presence in the Elite Camp had been monitored, and - not surprisingly - there was a list of infractions, flaws, mistakes, some ridiculously small (touching my nose when standing to attention, things like that), and these were again noted as demerits, and there would be consequences when I got back home. Simple punishments (good old writing lines, or copying out the discipline manual), additional hours of drill, extra inspections.

And so I was informed that my cadet life would intensify even further. 

For the next school year I was to have Mess & Household training three times a week. Home inspections were to continue, every morning, but with random inspections at other moments. I was to start work as a trainee Mess & Household Servant on Saturday afternoons and evenings, and I had to be available for extra duties on Sundays. Rules on discipline at home (uniform always, standing to attention whenever in the presence of my Dad, sitting down only when told to, speaking only when spoken to, never initiating conversation, no masturbation, notifying superiors of any punishable offence) were the same. Communication with friends or schoolmates was allowed only with consent by my supervising officer, and I was not allowed to be in the company of boys who were not in uniform.

I was signed up again for Elite Camp over the Christmas break, three weeks, and again for the next summer, eight weeks.

The curriculum for the last two years of school was altered: I was to focus on physics, maths and chemistry (these had already been added on in the previous year, without asking me). I was going to get two extra language classes, Malay and Chinese. Some of the other subjects were dropped, some things which I liked, actually. Overall level of ‘satisfactory achievement’ was set at 8.5 out of 10. 

And one more thing: I was going to have to make myself available for inspection of younger cadets, who were just beginning this disciplinary process, and on Saturday mornings I was to volunteer for drill instruction of a school cadet class of 10-12-year olds. ‘You are going to set a perfect example for them, cadet. Any questions, cadet?’

‘No, Sir. Thank you, Sir.’

‘Dismissed.’

I got my bag, and got on the bus, for the long drive home. A lot to think about, on the way.