The army livens one – exposes him to myriad people, hardships such that he realises the narrowness in which he has lived his previous/civilian life – the experiences and personalities beyond his wildest conjurations. I don’t think anything matches the feeling of relief and gladness after the first field camp, first turn out, first 2.4km run, first route march. The adrenaline, shortness of breath, the fatigue, the end to the primal state of fear in which our turn-outs are experienced : such physical effects intensify these experiences greatly. Your brain is so hormonally-influenced that a hi-five from a random platoon-mate at these mind-breaking times can easily convince you that the face in front of you is so human, so real, and his flaws suddenly so tolerable. (The next time you argue with him and stare into his eyes you’ll realise he’s as stupid as ever) You can choose to believe that this is what *life* is about – something intense, found in the outdoors, away from the confines of office and school.
The army too deadens, after the thrill wears off, after the endless cycle of outfields begins to take its toll on one’s mind. When one begins to forget the smell of camouflage cream, the stench of the unwashed LBV, the uniform taste of combat rations, he’s nearly there. When ‘unit’ life arrives, once coveted liberties, such as as canteen-breaks and vending machine breaks, seem to lose their appeal. It is unsurprising – we all demand rights, despite the fact that we will rarely, if not never, utilise them at all. It is like those who push for democracy, rights and freedom, but won’t bother changing their lifestyles even if their wishes were granted. We learn things here – that we all need to have a goal to look forward to, be it something as significant as commissioning, or as routine as just a book-out or as insignificant as a post-breakfast nap, and that goals shift and stay ahead. We are never satisfied – the army is pointless, the army is an organisation of misguided regulars and helpless NSFs.
The army is lastly is a refuge for lost souls who seek comfort in its monotonous regularity and routine. People who have learned to enjoy the sensation of satiating a certain artificially-induced deprivation (like holding your bladder for a bit longer just to enjoy the piss), people who enjoy having no control over their privileges – so their arrival heralds much happiness and generates maximum utility due to its scarcity – which, are basically the same mindset, with the only difference being one holds back on purpose, while the other relinquishes his privileges over to another. Time passes by quickly and easily – nap after nap, book out after book out. Every meal is worth looking forward towards, every sleep is great. Freedom at home is only filled with ennui – why not book back in and have carrots dangled in front of you, at least you have become conditioned to feel happy once you get the carrot. It is like having a meta level of understanding of your own psychology, and being able psyche yourself to see pleasure in nothing – your physical mind is under your mental mind’s manipulation – are you free, or happy, or not? Life is lived in anticipation of the next thing coming up – ever-increasing in pace, which is of course only noticed on retrospect, as we hurtle speedily towards our deaths.
Anyway that was quite random. I think we all find different things in the army – some pride, some boredom, some friends, etc. I belong to the third group – every time when I book out and am faced with the burden of my own freedom, I somewhat wish I was just in camp on Friday, being really close to my carrot, and then living my book out moment over and over and over and over again.
