Hokkien Peng (Hokkien: Army)

The Selarang camp cookhouse was quite crowded. Melvin, perspiring in his camouflage No 4 uniform, couldn't see his section mates or buddy anywhere. Where had they gone? Such was life—just smelling green and following orders for hours the whole morning—and at meal times, when a moment came that a spot of gossip or self-expression was called for, these pals decided to disappear.

The sound of cutlery scraping metal and the low voices drifted over the tables. The tables—these were round and sturdy, procured from a different vendor from the one Melvin knew about when he served in the Army Logistic Base—unlike those rows of long tables that could have come from a school canteen.

All around, men were gulping and chomping on the food. Starving people looked like that. When someone bit on a juicy apple, droplets spattered on Melvin's chest. Hello!

He scanned the nearest table. Two of his platoon training mates, Infantry Specialists Mack and Guang were chatting over their dinner.

"Can I sit with you guys?" Melvin gestured to them, his other hand balancing the metallic dinner tray of white rice, steamed chicken and cabbage.

Mack looked up. Guang appeared to have stopped in mid sentence. Mack's face, ravaged by nodules and acneiform scars from a previous life, seemed to show a look of surprise. "Eh? Yeah. You're Melvin, right?"

"Unless you guys prefer to talk in private?" Melvin looked from one man to the other. He knew that these weren't guys he usually talked to, but hell, one must build platoon spirit, right?

"Sure, join us." Guang had a hard, distinctive jaw line and a pinched mouth. He looked like the kind of person that Melvin's neighbourhood bully would become when he grew up.

Melvin plonked himself on the seat. Since these guys were already well into their meals, Melvin began on his.

Putting a finger to his lips, Mack leaned towards Guang. "Is the blanket party for the loser in our platoon tonight?"

"Yeah, wouldn't miss out on that one." Guang smiled, brushing his finger through the crop of his crew cut.

Melvin blanked out for a moment, wondering who the blanket party was for.

Mack and Guang winked at each other, then as if acting from an afterthought, Guang turned to Melvin. "You know what's a blanket party, right?"

Melvin leaned forward and said. "Yes, I do. It's not something permitted in the army though."

When Guang adjusted his headband, his mouth was downturned. He wasn't even looking at Melvin. "This is the fucking army. Do you think they care that we exact some private punishment on a sabo king so he'll buck up?"

Mack glared at Melvin for a moment, the vein over his head throbbing. "Oh, the army doesn't care if people do these things. So long as the public and the press don't know."

This shut Melvin up. Best watch what happens. The next moment, Guang bent forward and said something to Mack in a conspiratorial tone, "At ten o'clock sharp, meet the other guys by the rambutan tree near the obstacle course. They will be there. Get these items ready…"

Melvin couldn't hear the rest of it. The quiet exchange continued for a few minutes between Mack and Guang. It looked comical. Mack stomped his boots to make a point. Guang waved a toothpick. Melvin pretended to be preoccupied with teasing out the chicken flesh from the bones. He could talk about something else.

"Well." Melvin cleared his throat. "The Indian company commander that assessed us today. He's a wonderful leader, isn't he?"

"Captain Iswaran? He is too on the ball." Guang talked over Melvin, his fingers curling over the glass, his other hand waving dismissively, confident that nobody overheard this remark.

Melvin put down his cup and swallowed. "On the ball, you think?"

Then, snorting loudly, Guang cast his eyes on a flushed Melvin. "You do know what 'on the ball' means, right? Sotong?"