Friday, April 24, 2015

Of panics, fears and shell shocks



Throughout my whole army career, I had not experienced panics, or maybe just once. Fears, yes many times. And real shell shocks, none except for once not in battle though. Shell shocks come in many environments. It was shell shock nonetheless.

I had fears on every occassion when moving around in the operational areas. Yes I had fears travelling on the hilly and winding road between Baling and Kroh in Perak; in the Kuching/Bau/Lundu/Biawak road in Sarawak. Other black roads were not so scary. We had to have our weapons cocked and hand held ready immediately after leaving our guard posts and throughout the journey. Return journeys were more intense, as most enemy ambushes took advantage of our complacent attitude. My fears were more intense doing riverine patrols in Kalimantan/Sebatic Island in Sabah. We were dead ducks in our assault boats as the rivers wern’t wide enough to manuoevre away from the thick covers on the river bank, both sides. Going upstreams was more vulnerable.

 I survived.

My shell shocks in the operational areas were mild so to speak. It did not make me panic or had fears, only feelings of anger and frustrations. The biggest shock I had experienced was seeing 18 security personel from the PFF and Survey department dead and airlifted out to our camp near the Malaysian Thai border. This was the incident when we were surveying the Malaysian Thai border with the view of fencing up the demarkation line. I had mild shell shocks when I had an immediate crested shell during an ops in the new East West Highway pilot track, in which sharpnels rained back into our gun position. It was a miracle that no one was hurt. I also had shell shocks seeing and moving our  KIAs back to Kuching during an ops in the Third Division in Sarawak. I was SO 1 Log, in 1 DIV.

When did I really had a full blown panic station and shell shock “blackout” moment? In the most unexpected occassion.

Promotions up to the rank of Major in the Armed Forces was time and exam based. So it was no big hussle. The critical promotion was that to Lt Colonel which had prerequisites of attending MTAT and excellent annual reports. It was a make or break milestone for career advancement.

I was a Major for close to 12 years, patiently waiting for my promotion interview. Some officers just could not marked time. There were scant vacancies for the likes of me, inspite many of my juniors were moving ahead. Seniority, experience and merits were not weighted criteria. I was stuck and resigned to my fate. As as fate would have it, my oportunity came out of the blue. I was SDS in the SD wing LATEDA and got the notification for the interview with three weeks notice. I was elated and I had sufficient time to prepare for the interview.

Needless to say I had to brushed up my thoughts and preempted what questions were to be asked during the interview. It was my only and last chance to be promoted. I polished my buttons and broque shoes in LATEDA. I was more than ready.


I was not accompained during my tour in LATEDA and my family had remained in Taman Melawati, KL. I packed my usual weekend things and uniform into the car and went home for the weekend. The interview was to be the following Monday morning in MINDEF at 0900 hrs.

Monday morning came too soon. 0700 hrs and I prepared to go to MINDEF. I dressed up in my neatly pressed Bush Jacket, polished buttons and all. Then Panic. Cold sweat. Where were my polished shoes? Not in the car, not anywhere. Panic, panic. panic. No shoes.

Luckily Major Pan Kong Leong lived on the next road in Taman Melawati. He has’nt left for work yet and had lent me his pair of old shoes, a size too big. Got it polished up and big or not, it did not matter. I walked wobbled in the shoes.

I arrived MINDEF in good time, much calmer and very focused for the interview. I had to give it my all against all odds and very competitive candidates. There was only one vacancy. I was hopeful that I was not a “window dresser” as some candidates obviously were.

At 0815 hrs we assembled in the corridor outside the TPTD’s office. Smartly dressed and very tensed up. Our minds in prayers and bent on focusing into the current interview topics. The TPTD and some of his staff officers walked past us. He was in a huff. It was a bad Monday for him. This demorised us as we saw that the TPTD was obviously not in his best mood for anything. Much less our interviews. The interview started an hour late.

I was the most senior officer among the candidates, and was the first to be called in. The Artillery Director accompanied me into the TPTD’s conference room. I was stiff and the room was so eerie and quiet that I could hear a pin drop, notwithstanding being quite deaf. I marched smartly in and gave my best salute to the TPTD and the panel of officers for the interview. I sat on one end of the very long T shaped conference table directly opposite the TPTD.

The TPTD and all others wasn’t smiling, obvioisly due to the bad morning happenings which nobody was privy to. The mood in the interview did not go well to make it any easier for the interviewee. My mind was racing and I was trying my best to keep calm and collected. This was it.

The TPTD replied my salutation with a cold “Good Morning Allen”. He then looked down into a prepared folder, my dosier. He looked up and shot me the first question.

He asked me “When were you married?”  What ???

I was ready for all the topics and profesional questions which we were normally grilled at; lasting for an hour or so of the interview. “When was I married?”

Shell shocked, my eyes rolled up into blankness. I was reduced into a vegetable and lost my presence. The Director of Artillery who sat next to me kicked my legs underneath the table. I awoke from the blast. My quick thinking saved the day. I quickly remembered my elderest son’s age and plus a year to it. “1969 DATO!” I replied to the question.

The TPTD joking or not I did know know. He shot the second question “ What month?” Jesus, what was he up to? Another quick thinking and I had to bluff it off “End of the year DATO!” 

The third and final question was fairly acceptable. “If you were to be promoted, will you bring your wife to the new post ?” This line of questioning was towards BAKAT activities as expected at that era. Those who answered negative would not stand a chance to be promoted. The role of the wife in BAKAT was mandatory.

“Yes DATO!” I answered confidently.

“Thank you, Allen That will be all”. I saluted the TPTD and left the interview confused. That’s all?

I lost all confidence in the promotion exercise, given that all other candidates were grilled for an hour or so. I had only three questions. End of the line. In less than ten minutes. I was window dressing after all. I left the other candidates after wishing them best of luck. I left MINDEF down hearted.

A week later I received a message that I was posted to 1 DIV in Sarawak as SO1 Log. 

I wish to thank Major Pan for lending me his old shoes and to my Director for kicking me underneath the table. Panic and shell shock struck me in the most unusual occasion.

Take care 

Allen Lai





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