“保護我們的台北家園” - "Defend our Taipei homes"

In old war movies, you almost always see that scene of the emotional sendoff of military-bound young men by their families and girlfriends at the train station, the "with your shield or on it"-speech, complete with tears, flags, and that lone figure chasing the train as it pulls out of the station to an uncertain fate.

On my induction day, the train station part was real.

Our assembly point at the North 2 Gate of Taipei Main Station is one of those places you usually walk through without really paying much attention to. Induction Day was like any other morning with commuters and travelers hurrying on their way. But today, there was an additional contingent of middle aged men and women wearing red vests and yellow arm bands from the draft boards of district offices across Taipei. A couple dozen young men in various states of resignation milled around. Most came alone, a few came with family or girlfriends. Some were bespectacled student looking types, while others with shaggy manes of dyed hair milled around outside smoking cigarettes. A few had even already shaved the hair off their heads to the stubble that the military prefers for its new recruits. All wore the yellow passes issued by the draft board, bearing the markings of their home district, and "Air Force".

At 8:30AM, an authoritative looking man with a bullhorn ordered everyone to assemble by district. 12 red vested civil servants held up signs, each bearing the name of one of the 12 administrative districts of Taipei. We queued up, hauling our luggage with us. I silently congratulated myself on my decision to reduce my worldly possessions to a single backpack containing a jacket and a change of clothes. "You won't need anything else", my friends who had gone through the process told me, "you'll get everything you need once you get there."

Once properly assembled, two distinguished looking gentleman stepped before us. Although older, their upright poise and clipped tones marked them as retired military. One of them picked up a microphone and introduced himself as director of the Department of Compulsory Military Service for Taipei...

"Before I joined the civil service, I served for over two decades in the Army. I have been stationed on the outlying islands, including Kinmen, when hostilities occurred regularly, lone sentries were under constant threat from Chinese Peoples Liberation Army (PLA) frogmen, and we were under orders to shoot to kill any intruders after dark. In my time, the term of service was two years. Today, you will be required to serve only one year or less, and will not face the same dangers that I did when I was a soldier..."

We remained silent, everyone in Taiwan has heard horror stories involving the outlying islands in the 1960s and 70s, along with the 12 hour boat rides, and infrequent leave.

"Although you will spend your first month receiving basic training from the Army, all of you will be serving in the Air Force. You may ask, where is the Air Force? Yes, the Air Force is stationed at air bases across the country, but that is far from all. The Air Force operates the radar stations on high mountains, coastlines, and the outlying islands that comprise our entire early warning network. The Air Force operates the surface to air missile battalions located across the country on constant alert, ready to defend our skies against enemy aircraft on a moment's notice. As draftees, you may go your entire military career without ever seeing an F-16, Mirage 2000, or IDF fighter jet take off. Many of you may be hoping for easy jobs in support positions as secretaries, cooks, or drivers. But most of you will be the ones operating our missiles and radar sites, and guarding our facilities.

As a draftee, I will probably never see this in person.

Even today, you will face danger. The guns you will carry on sentry duty are loaded, and the bayonets fixed upon them are razor sharp. The missiles are heavy, and their exhaust can burn through metal. Wherever you may end up, you will find that you no longer enjoy the freedom that you enjoyed as a civilian. Every action you take will be observed and controlled. Some of you with girlfriends going in may find yourselves without one when you are discharged. For many of you, this will be the first time that you will be living away from home for an extended period of time. I urge you to persevere, do your best, and remember that no matter what happens - you will be discharged in a year or less."

The generation of Taiwanese kids born during the 1980s and 90s are often referred to as the "strawberry generation", stereotyped as being self-absorbed, pretty looking, incapable of rough handling and easily bruised... kind of like strawberries.

"And as a final parting gift, I hereby present you all with NT$100 calling cards, so you may contact your family and friends when you arrive on base. I have always believed that Taipei kids make for the finest soldiers in the country. So I urge you to go forth, adapt to your new life, and thank you for defending our homes in Taipei."

At this point, two preselected draftees marched to the front to receive calling cards with a snappy salute for the cameramen. Photo-ops are a universal thing, apparently. Even if the end played into the prevalent stereotype of Taipei-ites as being incapable of noticing anything outside of Taipei.

"Thank you for your devoted service in the military. The citizens of Taipei are proud of you!" (Here's an NT$100 phone card, which will give you approximately 2 minutes of talk time to any cell phone in the country!)

Herded down to Platform 3A, we made for a conspicuous looking bunch sitting in formation, supervised by our civil servant handlers. Other travelers looked on in curiosity as an empty 2nd class passenger train pulled into the station. "Attention passengers, " the loudspeaker blared, "please do not board the special express train at platform 3A." As we boarded along with our handlers, and as the train pulled out of station, two or three proud parents followed along the platform waving and snapping pictures.

"Well, at least that part of the movies is true", I thought, as we all sat silently contemplating our shared destiny for the next month.

Our train stopped at major stations along the way south, picking up more groups of similarly escorted, silent, young men. Some carried backpacks presented by local governments. Some cities helpfully provided generic brand baseball caps with which we could hide our soon to be shorn heads.

The usual railroad bento boxes of pork chops and rice were distributed, and were again, eaten in silence as our train continued on south...

最後一天 (The Last Day)

When my father got drafted back in the early 70s, he ended up getting a big send off, complete with the neighborhood chief (里長) presenting him with his draft orders and commending him for his upcoming sacrifice. He then entered the navy, and according to him, proceeded to spend his first six weeks getting violently seasick, while on patrol in the waters between Taiwan, Kinmen, and Matsu.

When my draft orders came down a few weeks ago, I got a pink form letter from the district office shoved into my mailbox, telling me to come pick up my marching orders. Not quite the glorious warrior sendoff of yesteryear, but hey I'll take it.

When I first arrived back in Taiwan, the three month university research job I took on seemed like a placeholder before basic training. Now, I'm sad to be leaving. There seems to be so much more good work to do than I have time for, even though everyone tells me I've accomplished more than enough already. No doubt, the three month deadline helped with my productivity level. One new peer reviewed paper out, one more under review, and more in the pipeline.

Three months go by fast when you keep yourself occupied. But all too soon, I'm turning in my final report, tying up loose ends on campus, firing off my final emails, and making a promise to return after my service term is up. Maybe this academia thing is for me after all. Maybe they'll send me to do science when I go in…

But if its something that I know I like doing, than that wouldn't be a sacrifice, would it?

On my last day as a civilian in 2011, I decided to make the most of my freedom by wandering around aimlessly. Through the ornate lobby of the Grand Hotel built in the style of an ancient Chinese palace, where the Chiangs used to entertain (and presumably, spy on) foreign guests, now filled with tourists.

Then out into the bright sunlight, into the hills up narrow staircases and boardwalks built by generations of locals, hidden underneath the green forest canopy overlooking the city below. Past terraced badminton courts, pavilions, and shacks with older couples singing karaoke.Then along a narrow road in the hills lined by bamboo forests, past abandoned army posts, and graves dating from the reigns of 道光, 光緒, and 昭和.

Back down from the hills into the city, and a small Buddhist temple where I am (gently) reprimanded by a nun for unknowingly standing on the tomb of a great monk.

And finally, into a shiny shopping mall with hipster kids wearing horn rimmed glasses without lenses.

It's amazing what you can find when you have no idea where you're going.

第二類組 (Type 2)

"Hurry up, they've already started drawing straws!"

Another day at the Shilin District Office. Another step in the process of getting drafted. The 10th floor auditorium of the district office is packed with thongs of young men and their anxious looking parents. The middle aged ladies running the Department of Compulsory Military Service who were at the medical exam weeks ago are all there again. But for the first time, I see military personnel manning the check-in desk - an army lieutenant colonel along with a bunch of NCOs, and a couple of MPs.

Like anyone would try to make a break for it at this stage.

Taiwan has had a military draft going since the 1950s, back when the Cold War was still hot. Today, China's invasion threats have gone from the human waves of yesteryear to a ballistic missile buildup, while Taiwan has gone from dictatorship to democracy. One problem hasn't changed though - how do you distribute all the draftees fairly among the service branches? Lots of people want to get into the air force (considered an easy assignment), and few want to end up in the marines (at one point, marine boot camp graduation involved swimming from Kinmen to China and returning with a severed PLA ear... or so the rumor mill goes).

The solution that was settled upon has become a rite of passage for Taiwanese males - drawing straws. Even with the introduction of civilian alternative service for folks who can't pass the physical, the practice still continues. Everyone gets a service branch, no one can complain about favoritism. This year, the ratio for the general pool is fairly typical: 75% Army, 8% Navy, 8% Marines, and 9% Air Force.

"But, I was told to come in at 11AM."

"Are you doing alternative service?"

"No, I'm classified as Type 2."

But as you might expect, the military in Taiwan has its own needs in terms of personnel qualifications. In the U.S., incoming enlisted personnel take the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery (ASVAB) exam to determine their level of competency. Taiwan deals with this problem by loading the dice for draftees with certain qualifications...

There are three separate pools as far as drawing straws is concerned. Type 1 is the maritime group (100% Navy), Type 2 is the aviation group (70% Air Force, 20% Army, 10% Navy), Type 3 is the general pool. Draftees are distributed by occupation or college degree: merchant seamen, maritime academy graduates, maritime engineers, and oceanographers go under Type 1. Type 2 includes commercial pilots, aviation mechanics, aerospace and aeronautical engineers, atmospheric and space scientists, meteorologists, and plasma physicists. Everyone else is Type 3.

"Oh, there are only 4 of you this time. Have a seat and we'll call you once the general pool is done."

I walk into the auditorium where the process is playing out for the general pool. The middle aged ladies of the district office sit at a long table at the front. A large clear plastic box sits in the middle of the table with a hole in the top. A draftee thrusts his hand into the box, pulls out a straw, and hands it to a lady with a microphone behind the box.

"Number 141, Army."

The young man is silent as the straw is removed from the remaining pool, and the next draftee moves up for his turn. There are 141 Army straws out of the 188 total for the general pool today.

"Number 142, Army."

"Number 143, Army."

"Number 144, Marines"

The marine-to-be grimaces, while a palpable sense of relief spreads throughout the line of draftees behind him. One less Marine straw.

A middle aged lady walks over after overhearing my earlier conversation:

"What's this Type 2 thing you said you were in?"

"Oh, the aviation group."

"Wait, so you're all Air Force? How did you get into that?"

"No no no... we just have a higher chance of drawing an Air Force straw. I studied aerospace engineering so-"

"My son studied accounting, why isn't he in this?"

"Well they should already know his degree-"

"Wait what? I didn't know about this. I told them he studied accounting..."

I had a thing for space and aviation as a kid, like most kids do. Unlike most kids, I never grew out of it and choose to study astrophysics in college (instead of pre-med or computer science), and aerospace engineering in grad school. The typical reaction I got from people in Taiwan upon learning of this was "Aerospace engineering? Who needs that in Taiwan?". Guess I've got the answer to that now...

"Type 2 draftees, report!"

A middle aged man with greying hair takes the mike at the front - the supervisor. The 188 draftees in the general pool are finally done. My turn now, along with the two other draftees in the group who actually showed up.

The supervisor gathers us around the box.

"Congratulations, you are all in the aviation group. No matter which service branch you end up drawing, your work will be related to aircraft!"

The three of us stare at each other, uncertain what to say. I've heard of Air Force draftees who ended up in air defense units, which were characterized as "the Army, but with surface to air missiles."

The supervisor opens a sealed brown envelope, containing three smaller sealed brown envelopes. He tears open the envelopes one by one to reveal identical looking small plastic tubes, each containing a rolled up piece of paper. The straws. He counts them out by service branch: 7 Air Force, 2 Army, 1 Navy. He hands me the microphone and points to the label on the big envelope:

"Read this please to confirm the contents are correct."

I pick up the microphone and hope my Taiwan accent is back...

"7 Air Force, 2 Army, 1 Navy."

"Sign your name and ID number on the envelope please, then have a seat."

He places the straws in the box, shakes up the contents, and hands the mike off to one of the ladies, who calls out our names and numbers, one by one. I'm last in line. The first guy draws Air Force. The second guy draws Navy.

I walk up and hand over my registration form and ID, and thrust my hand into the box. I hand the straw to the lady with the mike, who pulls the paper out of the tube...

"Number 4, Air Force."

The lady writes my name on the slip, stamps it with my seal, then hands me the receipt.

"Congratulations. We'll notify you 10 days before the start of basic training with further instructions."

The army guys at the check-in desk are gone now. The father of one of the other airmen-to-be walks over.

"Don't worry about it, it'll be a good experience. Say, where are you from?"

"Jiantan."

"Jiantan? Interesting. You look so tall that I almost thought you were a foreigner."

"Oh. Heh. Well, you know us kids these days."

"Yes, I would have taken you for American-born, except that you haven't done anything with your hair."