Confirming The Ground

It’s been five weeks since I’ve taken up my appointment. My recruits enlisted the day I started work at the company, so I was as new to being a commander as they were to being in the army. As my recruits settled into the army routine, I was busy settling in myself. I found that my routine was more flexible and that most resources were available to me. I found where to get the necessary information for my work, and to what extent I was responsible for acting on information I received.

I have also found that being a commander is very different from experiences I’ve had that I’d thought might be similar. I’ve been a maanger of a system and a manager of resources. I’ve also been a coach and a mentor. I’ve coordinated events and activities and led planning meetings. This means that I’ve had assistants, 徒弟 (not students, and not quite apprentices either), and understudies. I’ve not yet had subordinates who, from the outset, expect me to be better somehow, by virtue of my rank and the fact that they have very little leeway in deciding whether or not to do what they’re told. That they perpetually have to do what I tell them is a constant reinforcement of the deference they first gave me on credit. I should qualify: I do not believe that I am intrinsically superior, and neither do my men believe that they are lower forms of being; respect is still earned, and once the men are settled they see things quite clearly. However, I am unused to accepting the trust implicit in our relationship and situation. What is that situation? My men are prepared (or constrained) to do what I tell them, even when there is no room for clarification or questioning, the fact that I am their commander being sufficient for them to act.

There is a weight of responsibility, and also an imperative to accept that trust; it is not an option for me to refuse it, so, on my part, it becomes imperative for me to do my ‘duty’, which is ultimately what we take on ourselves, even though there are usually woefully inadequate guidelines provided to us.

On the matter of trust, I should note that it is something I give very readily (although as I grew older I increasingly recognized where it was ill-deserved as well). Conversely, I quite actively avoided situations where I would have to assume some implicit trust given. Even in other appointments I’ve held, I’ve earnestly attempted to have my subordinates do only as much as I did, and only because they saw as much of a reason for it as I did. (This approach is unsuited to many ‘leadership’ positions, however; I’ve done well or passably well in the past because I was fortunate with regards to the job scope.) My readiness to invest others with my trust is probably also proportional to my reluctance to be in their position; so much for my nature. (It is also part of my nature to be comforted by putting what is difficult to articulate into words.)

Still, where I stand, there is much cause for thanksgiving. In January I made certain choices to the end of preventing myself from spending my time in the army comfortably, and forcing myself into places or situations I knew I would choose to avoid if I had a choice;  there was a risk, but my commitment would be limited to a set period of time, and I anticipated that I would have room to grow a good deal. I am five weeks into facing many of those situations, and nine months on the course that I started on with much less forethought and clarity than my words may imply.

Direction & Misdirection

After seven solid days on set, the persona that is Sergeant Derek has at least been fleshed out. Among other things, he is the custodian of weapons and their accessories, and he counts, inspects and logs in a cell-like room with many locks. His job allows him some licence to be obsessive-compulsive. (In many ways, he is reprising another role.) He tries to be strict and injects sternness into his tone of voice and expression, but he does not play this role well because he is generally too happy and too approachable to be seen as the disciplinarian. Once, a black mood took him, and since then, the recruits have been careful; the storm signs can be seen from a long way away. So they push the envelope. Sergeant Derek also leads songs and cheers, although sometimes he can’t help but feel as though it is because no one else can summon up enough belief to not feel ridiculous. He would do better to get more in-character.

*

Sometimes I feel like I am crossing over from one world into another while on the ferry. Whichever direction I go in, it feels as though the fairytale evaporates and leaves reality as the product, even though I am usually leaning more towards one side than towards the other at any given time. Still, it is disorienting.

Earlier I took the train straight down to City Hall pretty much on impulse; when I realized that I was walking along the track the day after the race, and that I only found out who won by glimpsing the front page of a copy of the Straits Times in Starbucks, and that I’d spent race weekend worrying about logbooks and learning operating procedures, I felt as though where I was then was in many ways as far removed from the other reality as I could be, and I was unnerved by how forcibly I had reoriented myself.

I have two days before I have to re-orientate, that is, face east; having to constantly do that can’t be healthy, since it means that I’m mistaken about my direction about half the time.

First Week

As of now, I am a week into my appointment. Last week I met both my former platoon sergeant and former platoon commander. They’re both still there, but they’re both leaving soon. I was glad to see them, and they were glad to see me.

This week I’ve also discovered that my job can be severely exhausting. So many lives, so many concerns, so many things to do. I get questions, orders and requests. I sleep late and wake early. Booking out was a relief.

Today I had mango ice cream on bread while walking through Esplanade park. That was also when I realized that next weekend is race weekend, and that on race weekend Sergeant Derek will be confined with his recruits.

That was a very sad juxtaposition. But on a happier note, my last unopened item from Taiwan is a double-disc set of Glenn Gould playing Bach and Brahms. I opened it.

General note: On weekends we spend money to buy time. Less general note: I am experiencing buyer’s remorse.

As of now, I am a week into my appointment. Last week I met both my former platoon sergeant and former platoon commander. They’re both still there, but they’re both leaving soon. I was glad to see them, and they were glad to see me.

This week I’ve also discovered that my job can be severely exhausting. So many lives, so many concerns, so many things to do. I get questions, orders and requests. I sleep late and wake early. Booking out was a relief.

Today I had mango ice cream on bread while walking through Esplanade park. That was also when I realized that next weekend is race weekend, and that on race weekend Sergeant Derek will be confined with his recruits.

That was a very sad juxtaposition. But on a happier note, my last unopened item from Taiwan is a double-disc set of Glenn Gould playing Bach and Brahms. I opened it.

General note: On weekends we spend money to buy time. Less general note: I am experiencing buyer’s remorse.

Stringing It On

I re-trace my steps for the record:

1. BMT, Zulu Coy, Pl. 1/Sect. 2/Bed 3. January.
2. BSLC, Kilo Coy, Pl. 2/Sect. 2/Bed 2. March.
3. ASLC, Juliet Coy, Pl. 3/Sec. 4/Bed 5. May.
4. BMTC. August.
5. BMTC, Zulu Coy. September.
6. BMTC, Zulu Coy, Pl. 1/Sec.2. September.

As I said once before, the circle is closed. Having shown that I am at a point along a string of odd coincidences, I felt like I might as well point out more. In addition to ending up where I started from, I have also consistently been in the last company it was possible to be in for each of my courses, and I have also enjoyed easy-to-remember platoon/section/bed numbers.

Playing Catch-Up

All my weekends since Taiwan have all been either too short or fully occupied, so I am trying to cope with a significant backlog. I’m actually on a computer in the spec mess (I resolved to work on the backlog while I’m still actually in a camp with a computer I have access to) so there’s a time pressure too. What I have managed to do was to transcribe my Taiwan notes. They’re all backdated.

Update, 8 September 2009: Added nos. 5 and 6. More backdated posts, but not from Taiwan.
Update, 11 September 2009: Added the picture to No. 4, Stairwells. In other news, I am officially going back to Zululand!
Update, 21 September 2009: Added no. 7, Wrapping Up. As the title suggests, that’s my last post with Taiwan content.
Update, 21 September 2009: This post has been changed to an index of Taiwan-related posts only. They are numbered 1 through 5.

Index of Backdated Posts

1. In Transit, 1 August
2. When A Message Can’t Go Out, 7 August
3. Remembering My Country, 9 August
4. Stairwells, 9 August
5. Wrapping Up, 11 September

Work

My training is over, and now I start work. (I will think about filling up the employer and position fields in the Facebook profile.)

My first batch enlists tomorrow. I’m actually looking forward to it, but the weekends have been too short. Life outside seems to have become more busy, for some inexplicable reason.

I have a ferry to catch.

Wrapping Up

My Taiwan notes stopped at a point before the eight consecutive days we spent in the field, and before R&R, so I suppose I have the larger part of it left to cover, although it honestly wasn’t much.

Time and distance have blurred my impressions of the outfield experience. I remember that having wet underwear only an hour into the first mission was a huge morale sapper, but it rained every day after that anyway and somehow was got used to it. The long and short of it is that I got used to the walking, the sweat, the heat, the waiting and, to a lesser extent, the insects and insect repellent. In between that there were the missions. I suppose the matter-of-fact-ness could be taken as a sign that the ASLC was successful in making an infantryman out of me.

I’ve tried hard to conjure up something that was memorable from those eight days, but so far only two things come to mind. One was a long moment of stillness, the other was a moment of delirious accomplishment.

The still moment was when my buddy and I stood sentry on the hillside for about an hour and a half. The sky was heavy, and it rained throughout. From where we stood it was a straight drop down. We could look down into the valley between our hill and the next. There was a pylon about thirty meters behind us, and over our heads, the power lines went to the next hill and into the distance. I remember us being mostly silent throughout the time we were there, and I remember thinking about how rare it was to be comfortable with that silence and share it.

The other moment involved my left shoulder. It was the Matador and me again for a mission that involved scrambling up a muddy hill in driving rain as the sky got darker and the visibility plummeted. After the attack, we had to go down the hill in the dark. Then there was a long march to the next destination. Somehow my left shoulder (of steel) lasted the whole way through. I could feel every step, and every few meters I would think, ‘Stop!’, but I didn’t, and then I found I’d reached the end. So that was painful, and kind of fun.

Other than that, I remember the squelch of wet socks, but the rest is a muddy green blur.

R&R was unfulfilling. It had something to do with the fact that it was two-and-a-half days long. I spent almost all of the time shopping, something I don’t usually do. I ended up buying a lot of clothes though. I think, during R&R, I resigned myself to the fact that my peers’ lists of desires to be fulfilled were limited to spending money, getting stuff, eating food (mostly junk food), and spending money being comfortable in between all those things. Which isn’t bad, as far as things go, except for the spending. I think what was lacking was leisure. There was too much to do, if you weren’t prepared to go off on your own for a day. (Not that we had a single full day of unrestricted ops.) Taipei is a nice place, but R&R wasn’t much.

That about wraps things up, way over time.

Viva La Resistance!

The knowledge, or presumption, that I’ll be somewhere else doing something else after a year and ten months of service makes it impossible for me to be as committed to the organization and its ethos as what is implicitly being demanded of me. At some point, what I am being told about values and responsibility and norming and alignment just becomes:

Link is external.

The combination of unusually chilly air conditioning and the unremitting emphasis on select ideas while keeping the audience a captive one every day for a week, eight hours a day, hardly seems innocent. The benefit of the doubt is given, but I also want to make a statement of intent: I resist!

*

Seriously, though, I can accept much of what has been painstakingly explained to me (sometimes in a voice that sounds sick of what is being said, or in a knowing and subtly condescending tone), but only up to a point. I have other convictions, and I am hardly an empty vessel waiting to be filled. That said, I am convicted that I should do my level best in my appointment, but I do not believe I am in the business of mass production. (Or fulfilling quotas early.)

The Strain of Decisions

Since I received my posting five days ago, I assumed that the next two thirds of my army life would see me being an instructor to recruits. (I should mention that the term ‘instructor’ has been roundly denounced in the course I am in the middle of, but I use the term in a general way.) In some ways, I had already been envisioning such a role for myself since my recruit days, although I’ve consciously told myself at each stage that nothing was certain, even as I saw myself first being posted to Specialist school, the infantry course, and, finally, to the eastern island.

When I reported, and when I was told about an available administrative job in the HQ, I quickly grasped that it was something I’d be very good at, because I knew I had done much of the work before as a QM and project manager, and picked up the skills in the process. That realization threw open another door for me that was more appealing than I would have anticipated, because of other factors like having a wider view of the system. I was also thrown into a trap of analysis and self-dissection, especially in the wake of answers I had had to provide before feeling as though I had had enough time to consider. Deliberating possible courses of action at the same time I was dissecting myself, all under time pressure, was stressful.

When things get confusing, having a ready and available check can be immensely helpful, and I thank God for friendship. I made a call, and God provided the answer through my friend. My answer is locked in, and I’ll see the result soon, but what I am most thankful for is that, right now, I am at peace.

Stairwells

I suppose that if I’ve spent enough time in stairwells that they have associations for me, then I’ve probably stepped into the weird zone, although if you consider how much of my life has been spent in camp or in school, it may only be natural. Where else is one as effectively hidden from view? Perhaps the toilet, but one usually doesn’t want to linger there. On the other hand, stairs are natural chairs. Also, if you want even more quiet, just move further up. There are sure to be fewer people. Stairwells are public spaces that people only pass through, and I’ve found them to be useful when I had to be around school or camp but I didn’t have to be at somewhere at a particular moment. Stairwells are echo-ey, though, so they’re not good places for private conversations, and they’re only private if you’re going to be quiet.

[Note 070909: I think this is quite surely a 'weird zone' post. Perhaps being packed with so many people in a confined space for so long activated my instincts for fading away and disappearing into myself.]