A Night Of Sentry

Frankly speaking, I had never intended to tell anybody about the incident. Especially since the above-mentioned incident had occurred years ago and it did not involve anyone else in particular except myself. Not even to my close friends and wife did I once mention the incident. No, it was not because I was trying to shun away from some sad and old memories, neither was it because I felt guilty about what had happened that I had never mentioned it. No, it is just because I did not want to mention the incident, that’s all. Just like the reason why one would rather read Stephen Hawkins than Greek mythologies, or why one would rather have tuna sandwiches for lunch than chicken soup. It is just a plain I-don’t-feel-like-talking-about-it thing. Nothing special, nothing intriguing.

Let’s not sidetrack.

The above-mentioned incident occurred ten years ago. I remembered it was a full moon and I was stationed in a military camp that is located on the west side of this island. As this might involve some military secret, I am thus not inclined to tell any of you present here the exact location of the camp. Although I believe that if I told you which camp it was, most of you here and more than half of the reservist military personnel on this tiny island would know exactly which camp I am referring to, I still would not say which camp it was. I have no wish to get into trouble with any laws here, especially a certain law called Internal Security Act, which technically isn’t a law, but hey, there is nothing wrong with being too cautious. Though this does not disguise the fact that I feel like a spectator of the Emperor’s new clothes, but it is always good to have your ass covered. This is something that I have learnt on the first day of enlistment, when I was given fifty push-ups for trying to chat in a friendly manner with my platoon commander. It was then I stumbled on a truth that would serve me invaluably in life. In a society or organization where one is governed by laws and sanctions, one should really watch one’s mouth, and be wary that one’s position and opinions should not contradict with that of the larger environment, at least not openly. Whatever. What I had really wanted to say was that I was serving my time in army when the incident happened. As to why I kept on rattling here and sprouting nonsense like a bitch in heat is really baffling. Maybe it is because I have a habit of beating around the bush when I do things, and this extends to my story-telling as well.

Let’s cut the crap and move on with the story.

It was a Saturday night. I remembered it vividly because I remembered feeling damn pissed off at being chosen for guard duty that day. It was a last minute thing, when the person who was supposed to be doing the duty came down with high fever and had to be hospitalized. I had to cancel all my plans for the weekend, I couldn’t return home and had to stay idle my time away in that boring place. Yeah, to say I am damn pissed off would be an understatement, but like the numerous rules and norms of our society, this is something that I cannot avoid. Well, guard duty is actually not something that is really tough. You either patrol the camp in twos, or stand sentry at the gates. There is no fear of any screw-ups, as the possibility of terrorist attacking the camp is almost negligible, considering a peaceful country like ours. No, one doesn’t have to worry about riots or thieves entering the place. What is there to steal anyway? Basically what you do is to pretend to be guarding the place, where in fact you know that you are no different from the big warning signs that say “Keep Out” nailed on the perimeters of the camp. In fact, one feels as if he is nothing but a mannequin in a departmental store. The saving grace from the pits of pissed-off-ness is that just like that what Kurt Cobain sang in the Nirvana song: I’m not the only one. Together, there are around twelve more pissed off souls rotting away with me in the camp, so that’s not too bad. Guard duty is actually a two hours shift with four hours rest in between, so it is really not that bad. I guess most of my anger is due to the fact that I am rotting in this shit-hole while others are watching movies with their girlfriends or playing billiard at your friendly neighborhood billiard centre.

Of course, even though I am angry and pissed off, I am not about to defy military orders and walk out of the camp. Rather than rot in detention barracks for months, I would just rot in the guardhouse for a day.

I am really straying too far away from the crux of the story. I guess I’ll just skip to the part where the incident really took place, and not bore you with the queasy feelings I had during dinner that I believed was some sort of omen to the events that was about to happen that night.

I think it was two a.m. in the morning. The sentry before me woke me up while I was snoring like a pig inside the guardhouse. It was my turn to stand sentry, incidentally my last shift of the day. I got my rifle from the rifle rack, and dragged my weary body to the sentry post that was some twenty five to thirty metres away from the guardhouse. It was very quiet in the dark, and the road in front of the camp looked like a listless snake sprawled lazily on the ground. The air was surprisingly cool and refreshing, probably there had been a slight drizzle while I was sleeping. I stood like a brainless zombie in front of the sentry post, which was approximately five to ten metres away from the iron gate. I stared into the space carved out by the twenty-second and twenty-third grills of the gate. Through that tiny space, I saw a tree on the opposite side of the road that had been segregated from the rest of the bleak scenery by the above-mentioned grills of the gates. It was a pathetic looking tree, painfully malnourished, almost bare save for a few leaves and probably not even twice my height. It probably stood there along with the other trees that were lining in a row along the side of the road just for the sake of being a pathetic excuse for the government’s equally lame attempt of making the environment clean and green. It probably had no use at all, would never grown healthily into a lush of green, and it’s only way of justifying its existence is to allow taxpayers’ money to be wasted for whatever government department is in charge of it to take care of it. Quite a bastard of a tree, if you would excuse my language, and I distinctly remembered I had the urge to cut it down right on the spot. But yeah, you’ve guessed, I had sentry duty, and was not allowed to move more than five metres away from the sentry post, let alone climb the gates to the other side of the road to cut down that pathetically looking tree.

What a bummer.

The weird things started at around three thirty. I was still staring at that pathetic and disgusting looking tree. The night was as silent as a Beethoven symphony played in outer space. I was feeling quite happy and relieved. Just half an hour more and it would be the end of my shift. It would be the last of the sentry duty for that day too. Just half an hour more, and I would be snoring like a pig again.

“Shabakanawa.”

I heard a strange noise from behind me and instinctively I turned my head over. There was nothing there. Behind the sentry post was a car park where a jeep was parked and two wild dogs were copulating. I scanned the area, but could not find anything that would remotely resemble the source of the strange noise I heard. It sounded like a human voice speaking in some foreign language. Yet there was nobody in sight.

I knew that noise was definitely not a figment of my imagination, and it could not be the rustling of the leaves either as there was no wind blowing. I started to feel frightened, and yet the car park seemed so innocent and natural, as normal as one would expect a dog to lift its legs upon a fire hydrant. There was nothing there to suggest that it had been the trick of some supernatural powers at hand.

I was feeling extremely uncomfortable by then, but yet I was too scared to investigate the source of the noise to ease my fears. I did not have the intention wake up the other guards as well. For all I know, it could have been something trivial, and I would probably get hell from the guard commander and duty officer if that were the case. Heck, they might even punish me by making me stay back next week as well. I definitely cannot stand two weeks of weekend guard duty in a row.

Therefore, I decided o adopt a passive see-no-evil-hear-no-evil-speak-no-evil attitude, ignoring the strange noise. There is still twenty-five minutes left before the end of my shift. Anything else that happens after that would not be my business anymore. If there were any evil spirits or supernatural forces at work here, it would be the responsibility of the next sentry and not mine. I know this is a very selfish stance to adopt, but hey, I’m no saint.

Thus, I’ve decided to refocus my attention on the space between the twenty-second and twenty-third grills of the gates, allowing the image of the fallen tree to be imprinted in my mind … …

Fallen tree?

Even if it is ten years since that incident had passed, I still could not find the exact words to describe my feelings back then. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, it was something like a cross between fear, desperation and the urge to laugh at the cruel joke that whoever or whatever had played on me. Something akin to an asthmatic patient being told a funny joke, running out of breathe and yet could not stop laughing. Think about it, you just shift your attention for a while and the tree in front of you gets chopped down. Silently and without a trace, as though it was perfectly normal and logical for trees that are growing alongside the road to be chopped down silently and without a trace without any apparent good reason. How could one not freak out if something like this befall him? Especially when stories of haunted bunks and mysterious deaths in the army are a staple diet of every personnel serving their time, I could not help but feel petrified at the possibility of dying at the causes of supernatural forces.

Of course, if you viewed the incident from another perspective, you have to admit that it is goddamn funny. It is just like the scenes from your favorite Disney Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck cartoons. One moment the tree is there and the next moment it is not. If I shoot this story of mine into a movie, I guess it would probably turn out to be a comedy rather than a horror flick.

What an irony to the impending feeling of doom that was circulating my bloodstream at that moment of time.

It was five seconds. For five seconds I had seriously contemplated running back to the guardhouse for cover, waking up the snoozing guard commander, have him telephone the duty officer and tell him word for word what I had saw, to let him know that there was a possibility that this camp is under the attack of a supernatural force. I would be safely hiding in the guardhouse, and who knows? I might just save the camp from being destroyed by supernatural forces. It was killing two birds with one stone.

Of course, I could be roasted by the groggily asleep duty officer, do extra guard duties over the course of the next year, become the joke of the camp, and make a total fool out of myself. Selfishness always wins over bravery. It even triumphs over fear. I decided to stick to my policy of see-no-evil-hear-no-evil-speak-no-evil.

Whenever I think back about it, that was the toughest twenty-five minutes of my life. I stood at the sentry post motionlessly, afraid to move even a millimetre. My head was lowered and I was staring straight onto the ground. I dare not look up for fear of seeing other supernatural events that could be happening. For example, the lamppost along the road could suddenly become inverted, the copulating dogs could suddenly walk up to me and start speaking, or all the other guards inside the guardhouse could suddenly wake up and do a samba dance right in front of me ……

My creative and imaginative mind that I am always proud of turned out to be my worst enemy that night, as it committed treason by feeding me all the horrible possibilities that could happen, throwing me into the inner pits of despair and fear. It was just like playing Russian Roulettes with six loaded bullets. I was ready to piss on my pants at the slightest bit of noise. Of course, compared to the possibility of a horrible death, pissing on my pants was a small case.

I dare not even move a hair as I waited for the next sentry to take over my duty. Of course, I did not know at that point of time whether my stance of see-no-evil-hear-no-evil-speak-no-evil was a correct one. What if I had died a horrible death? What if my delay in notifying the duty officer caused the camp to be destroyed by supernatural forces? My passive decision would be unforgivable, and I would be a sinner.

However, when the next sentry came out twenty-five minutes later to change shift with me, I knew that I had made the correct decision. You cannot imagine my relief on hearing the next sentry dragging his feet from the guardhouse to the sentry post. When I finally lifted my head and saw him, my joy and relief were beyond description. My tensed muscles began to relax, and I could afford a weak but relieved smile.

The sentry changing shifts with me took a look at me and asked, “What’s the matter? You look a bit pale and you look as if you were shivering. Is there anything wrong?”

“Nah, nothing’s the matter. It’s just the cold.” I lied.

“Well, then, you had better go inside the guardhouse to rest.”

“Thanks for your concern.”

As I was walking back to the guardhouse, I glanced towards the direction of the fallen tree out of curiosity. The main reason why I dared to do so was because I was not the person on sentry duty anymore. I was going back to the safety of the guardhouse, and even if all the trees along the road were chopped down, it would have been none of my business. However, what I had saw scared the shit out of me and totally freaked me out.

The tree was standing peacefully by the side of the road as though nothing had happened.

I ran into the guardhouse immediately.

Well, this is my story. Although it wasn’t exciting as the ones that you all have told just now, and in the end everything that had happened could have been a figment of my imagination rather than the workings of supernatural forces, but I can guarantee all of you one thing, that this story is as true as it gets. I am not saying that all your stories are false and made up, I’m just saying that mine is a true story, that’s all. Not trying to discredit any of your stories here. Just like I said in the beginning, I had actually not intended to tell anyone about this incident, but since everybody here is so in the mood tonight, it would be a spoilsport for me to remain silent, right?

Well, my story is finished. Just something to add though, I developed an extreme disliking for trees or bushes alongside roads since that incident. For those who drove here, you might have noticed that there are no trees around the parking lots under my flat. This is because I have poisoned all the trees and plants growing around the vicinity with super strong weed killers. Luckily, I have not got into any trouble with the authorities yet, but even if I do, that is just something minor. I just cannot stand the thought of a tree waiting for me in my car park everyday I drive home from work.

Well, this is really the end of my story. Whose turn is it next?