Area Delta

Sweat rolled down my tired face, as the afternoon sun slowly baked the ground and the air around me. On my third last bookout day, instead of enjoying life as it was, I was holed up in a truck filled with sweaty, disgruntled NSFs like yours truly...

It all happened in the early morning, when no one else wanted to take the job from hell. Bumpy rides, sandfly bites, dirty and humid climate, you name it, Area D has it. Most of the time, I was reduced to "wait to rush, rush to wait". That's life of a backstage personnel. When the VIPs arrive, all the high-ranking personnel (most) viewed us with disdain, shooing us to hide in some hole of a tentage, so that the distinguished guests do not see the sweaty, muddy soldiers.

The road there itself was hell. If Singapore had such roads, everybody would die of backaches. While they were rehearsing, we were forced to wait at Sarimbun Reservoir, a godforsaken place where only tired soldiers tread. Spider webs were abundant among the grasses. So were snails and fishes, which my friend happily (sadistically, if I may add) gutted them open with his jackknife. My Company Sergeant Major decided to fish to while his time, improvising wooden branches into fishing rods. He even brought hooks along!

And so, the time passes as slowly as the afternoon sun, which baked us with great intensity. Never had I have such a great desire for water, to quench my thirsty throat. Meanwhile, Eddie, I guess, should be welcoming the VIPs in camp, while Eddie's friend was not so fortunate as he had to stand sentry at the gates.

That day was also the day when I breathed sand, literally, thanks to the armoured vehicles creating a sand trail. I was still breathing out (sneezing, expelling) sand out of my nostrils long after I book out. No more Area D pls.