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short story: alternative reality

by comrade commissar | Thomas | @ Thursday, September 21, 2006, 1:18:00 PM

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In the undead hours after midnight we were jolted from our sleep, the strident wailings of sirens like trumpets at the end of world shook us out from our warm beds. Still half-conscious we stared at one another in the pitch darkness, confused as much as we are apprehensive, in our army singlets and shorts variously.

Six hours later all of us would be identical, in camouflage green, decked out in full combat gear. Standing at attention with our right hands placed upon the grim dull grey rifle slinged to one side, the parade ground was dead silent, except for one lone voice, a high ranking officer's, over a loudhailer, to the hundreds of men before him. We seeked any sort of information that might be obtained from his excited rambling sentences, but all we got was little more that vague uninformed haranguing. Awhile later the "briefing" ended, and we were dismissed. Moments later the roar of diesel engines like mechanical beasts would echo through out the army camp, as armoured vehicles of all kinds - tanks, self-propelled artilery, humvees, personel carriers, are started up. I board an APC, already filled up with 10 other men neatly seated. They greet me with their silence, their eyes communicating the uncertainty we all shared. The bloody red sun rose uneasily over the breaking dawn horizons as our armoured monstrosities ride out like metallic horsemen in convoys.

Of course the casus belli did not occur overnight. We all expected something drastic to happen eventually. That event 3 months ago shook the foundations of our nation to its core. Our once cocksure government begun to show signs of problems, as rumours of dissidence within political circles spread to ordinary folks out in the streets. In camp we tried our best to make sense of affairs outside our barb-wired fences, devouring newspaper articles, keenly watching the TV and hunting for other sources of information. Excited speculation and unfounded gossip from family members over the phone, unbelievably upbeat news reports on the 9 o' clock news, a broadcast of parliamentary discussions abruptly cut with the last footage being of politicians yelling and breaking into fist fights, several journalists sacked for criticism in op-ed segments that border on the inflammatory - It was plain unnerving. All this time the supports for the top positions of government are being eroded, as day by day the country's leaders fight to stay in power.

Other than for last year's National Day Parade, this would be the second time that we drove armoured tracked vehicles down civilian roads. As we move past neighbourhoods and towns, signs are everywhere that things have changed. A 7-11 store lies deserted as men carried cartons and boxes of foodstuff from inside onto a pickup truck waiting outside - the police are nowhere to be seen. Traffic lights are not working. Its 9am on a weekday but schools are empty, whole families standing on the streets, parents clutching their children's hands or carrying infants, watching us go past. Old men drinking beer in the day. Some of them cheer and raise their bottles as if to propose a toast. Others swear violently, hurling those same glass bottles at our tanks' steel skins. Handphones no longer work. Buses are nowhere to be seen, and cars are sparse on the roads for a Monday morning. The few we do see have various items and even furniture haphazardly loaded or even strapped onto them. These people, where do they plan to refuge at? We are an island nation, all escape routes are controlled, presumably sealed by now too. No exit.

One of the men in my vehicle was an academic high-flyer before he came into the army to serve out his conscription duties. Often I would see him reading various books on philosophy and political ideology in his spare time. As if quoting from textbooks, he shouts above the din of the rumbling engine and the incessant clatter of tracks on asphalt, "The military's role is to serve as a department, as a support for the government; as the nation's expression of force." He hollers, "The army should defend our society, not define it. When the military takes over government, the representation of the nation's will as a whole is overthrown by a small minority. The Party commands the gun, and the gun must never be allowed to command the Party."

He pauses to take a deep breath before saying, "I think what we're doing now is like a man losing control of his arms and committing suicide by strangulation." He kept quiet after that, averting eye contact and staring down at the vehicle's floorboards.

Along with a couple other tanks and APCs, we have been ordered to occupy the telecommunications building near the Orchard Road area. Our convoy's journey is painful arduous. Without traffic rules the roads are a mess with junctions clogged up by cars and other civilian vehicles. On more than one occasion threats of force had to be made to gain leeway.

During one of these instances I had to dismount and aim my weapon at a civilian. Two other soldiers and me, pointing loaded semi-automatic assault rifles at an unarmed lady.

She was hysterical. Screaming, she leveled a question at me. "What are you all doing! Can't you see that you army people are tearing the nation apart? Are destroying our future and our lives? Stop this! Don't you have minds? Can't you think for yourselves?" To which I merely reply repeatedly, "I'm just following orders." I tried my best to seem hard and unyielding, but in my head my conscience was tearing my soul apart. An Apache chopper suddenly appears overhead flying low, fully loaded with missles, bombs and side-winders. An ominous sight, a mechanical angel of death with enough capability for destruction to level several office towers.

Just about 2km away from our destination, we came to a halt again as we faced yet another road blockage.

"Something's wrong." My vehicle's commander says to me, standing on top of our APC with a bird's eye view, his expression intent as he listens to the ongoing communications in his helmet's headset. "This time its not a couple of Toyotas blocking our way. There's another armoured vehicle group up in front."

I peer out just in time to see one of the officers in my group dismount and walk up to where the commotion seemed to be, seemingly to negotiate. We sat around in the vehicle for the next 15 mins, no progress appeared to be forthcoming. Suddenly a giant explosion coming from nearby shuddered the entire vehicle. This was followed by the fierce barks of machine gun fire. I heard my vehicle commander swore before we reversed and retreated behind a building several metres away.

"Those are our own guys! Shooting live ammo at us!"

All of us scrambled out of the APC, weapons locked and loaded, about to engage in actual combat for the 1st time and ready to defend ourselves from ourselves. I could see fear in the eyes of the men, and knew that my own betrayed the same emotions. At 3pm on a Monday afternoon, the state of affairs has gone from the previous decline of democracy to uncertainty, to our current spiraling freefall into anarchy.

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