Singapore Short Story

In a time of war, where calls of distress had replaced the whispers of the wind, where gunshots lingered in the air like perfume in air-conditioned rooms, where our emotions were toyed with under the cruel fate of death, threatening to claim us anytime, we all suffered. Some, in more ways than one.

I was caught in the middle of World War two defending Singapore before it was too late. Looking down at my uniform, it struck me that one I donned it, the country was my responsibility, my duty to protect. My thoughts already blank from the resignation that this uniform was to lead me to battle, the sacrificial element of life and death.

However, it was unknown to me that this army uniform was to mould my character into what my previous being could not have recognized. It was to change my life thereafter, as I came to know about the most brutal form of mankind-war, as army recruits.

With progression of time, we were transformed into fearless fighters, to whom blood and gore could not affect. Day after day, crimson stains appeared on my uniform as we shot, stabbed, kicked and chucked at the enemies. Perspiration, tears, blood, wound infection, murky river water, my faithful uniform knew them too well.

Each night, pain from our hearts swelled up as we thought of how our fellow soldiers were dying day by day. The Japanese were too strong for us. They outnumbered us, outsmarted us, were decisive- practically everything we did was no match for the resilient soldiers of theirs. Tearing our confidence apart was one thing that shook us the most. I lost hope of myself, not to mention that the country was ‘dying’ too.Luck had brought me this far. Without it, I would have been long gone from this world, escaping from the war that seemed too much.

I starred at the iridescent stars above the clear night sky. Then, I looked back down, catching a glimpse of my uniform. It was the symbol of commitment, the costume of a morbid parade. Thoughts flooded my mind. There and then, I realized, what was war anyway. It was the degree of enemity, the pride of the countries, the survival of the fittest. Not to mention that it was too bad that humans are such fragile creatures.

We donned the british colours as we upheld the colony values. There was only a sign to distinguish ourselves from the enemies- our uniform. Did that mean it was not who the individuals that mattered, but what? The generals, did he even know our names? We were nothing but a pixel in the whole picture. Soldiers fought and soldiers died, and there was no ceremony of honor to commend their bravery. Did I want to end up alone and forgotten like that?

That night, hatred had given me another option. It had brought a new light to my greying destiny, and given me the courage to escape the despairing events of war in store for me.

It was a rash thing to do, judging by the fact that I was a Chinese. I was certain that I would not have chosen to stay and be a captive of warfare. I gathered my belongings, glanced at my dorm for the last time and slipped out of the campsite.

Perhaps no one had spotted me. I did not care a single bit. I dashed through the dense forest, not knowing my fate in the time to come. Freedom had, however, caught up with me.