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| by comrade commissar | Thomas | @ Friday, January 20, 2006, 7:18:00 PM | permalink |
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Our M113 was crammed with more than the usual 6 guys and 9 of us were packed in, with me and 2 of my men standing at the back with our heads sticking out of the vehicle's open hatch. This was the 3rd night of our 4 day, 3 night training exercise, and we were on our way to a new site and about to negotiate a steep hill, we were the second last in a moving convoy of four. The clitter-clatter sound of the rumbling tracks slowed down to individual clak-claks as we went 25º.. 30º.. what felt almost like 45º inclined upwards. The background roar of the diesel engine became louder, unbelievably to something like a wailing blare as the metal beast struggled to crawl forward with our driver feet down on the pedal full throttle. And the wailing and claking went louder and louder as we slowed down more and more until we came to a complete stop, somewhere up there in the middle of a hill in the pitch swarms-of-sandflies-are-already-closing-in darkness. The incredible din was still going on when our driver K G shouts from his compartment "EH SERGEANT I CANNOT GET IT TO MOVE FORWARD LEH! HOW?" W H, the guy who was "in command" of our vehicle shouted back to KEEP TRYING, seconds later adding USE A LOWER GEAR for more traction. The guy did something and the machine went even louder, lurching forth with a single jerk but otherwise still motionless and now shuddering. It didn't seem like there would be any change in situation soon so I looked out behind in time to see the blinding headlights of the M113 following behind, slowly nearing almost to an uncomfortable closeness. I could even begin to make out the noise of this engine even above the ruckus our's was making. Then standing beside me, Y K, a driver by specialty like K G, seemed to tried to break the monotony by casually making a professional-sounding remark, "Eh Sergeant Thomas the workshop tech said this M113 the deferential steering still got problem." And my eyes were still on the ever encroaching vehicle behind when I noticed the glow-in-the-dark stick fixed on my vehicle as a safety indicator was barely visible and Translation of what Y K said in layman terms: The vehicle's steering/braking mechanism is problematic and it's likely that under stress conditions it may give way.Like now. I tugged at the torchlight that I had, pointing it back at the M113 behind waving it left-right-left-right gesturing STOP, looking in front again at the driver and the piercing wailing and. Abrupt silence, we jerked back inches! Look back and the vehicle behind us still nearer! An image of me standing on the seat of a roller coaster haphazardly holding on to any protruding railing, all safety measures giving way and I slowly careen back down, carriage connecting carriage in abnormal angles as we slid down uncontrolled down down down, Sharpnel and wheels tossed out askew in mid air and metal and bone break apart. Please God, please Lord, please. Of all the things to come to mind at times like this and a unshakeable gut feeling. I was white with panic but I also knew I would be ok when I thought I heard someone say "You are invincible. Its not your time until I say so." The wailing started up again and held on. The vehicle behind stopped. K G pressed on and our vehicle begun to progress slowly, even painfully, up till we came to the top. Clak, clak, clak. And finally we even out to flat ground again. The convoy came to a stop for everyone to check around and take stock. K G could now turn back and say at normal volume and leisurely pace that he was sure that our vehicle wouldn't make the slope. J B, the commander of the vehicle behind us, yelled THANKS! at me for realising that he couldn't really see us and shining the torch as a beacon. Its then that I noticed that I was sweaty in the chilly black night with gentle chilly breezes. I looked at faceless Y K in the dark, and asked him if he realised that just a while back we were this close to getting killed. "Yah I know. But OK lah." Almost passively, nonchalantly he said. Its as if as a subordinate following orders, he didn't have to worry. Everything will be taken care of by the commander and things will be fine. I was too relieved/startled/prideful to reply that Sergeant Thomas is like him, only mortal. |
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recent entries (in order) |
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<--latest post-- blood unwanted and direly needed--with eyes fresh anew--of shoes and other mysteries--fight--i had to do it.--conflict and resolution--sat at SPCA--sleepless--fomulé snow white--its just one of those days.-- --last post--> |
