A pure combat vocation is neither immunity nor a shield to office politics (and its derivatives, part thereof).
Don't get me wrong: we have none of the blade-wielding back-stabbers that are as common place as dust mites in our company line (such stuff are found in offices where people clamour for glory, promotion, and a lucrative pay rise, not among national servicemen), and the numerous quarrels we have back in our bunks are nostalgic experiences reminiscent of our childhood bickerings. In fact, I have never seen a fight break out.
However, absence of office politics doesn't mean that somebody isn't harbouring ulterior motives for their actions. One such person has recently revealed his master plan towards skiving. The premise was simple, yet at the same time, deceptively ingenious: get yourself involved in another big project with a deadline that wraps around you like a noose, then ask to be excused from the original program (usually always something unenjoyable, like getting IV-ed). It helps that you look at your boss with beady eyes, almost as if you were pleading to be arrowed for that big project. Spending time on these projects were worthwhile, since incentives are almost always guaranteed once the job is done, and there is the additional benefit of escaping tough (and probably necessary) training.
For anonymity's sake, I won't reveal the perpetrator's name, since his high-profile has already exposed his rear to some serious whacking by the commanders in recent days. For dear readers whom are my platoon mates, I am sure that this person's identity is crystal clear, so I need not risk exposing more hints of his identity.
But back to the project: this time, by consensus from some of the kings of sabotage, I got arrowed (trust me, I spent a lot of energy trying to deflect it) to aid the organisation of a battalion level charity car-wash. My inexperience in dealing with major projects (those puny projects we took on during junior college days were mere child's play compared to the scale of this one) probably led to frustrating episodes in bunk where I would fret over the undone work while the other two guys spent their time slightly happier: with their GameBoys. Thank goodness for guides on dealing with people.
I would just wait for them to panic, and let us all tear our hairs out together. It is lonely being the only one doing all that worrying.
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