"現在時間0530...": "The current time is 0530 hours..."

Naturally, the pocket notebooks have to be emblazoned with the characters for "success".

I was awakened early the next morning by my still sleeping bunkmate kicking me in the face through the mosquito netting that lined our respective beds (our drill instructors had arranged us so that adjacent new recruits slept head to foot, in order to keep us from breathing in each others faces as we slept). A few seconds later, my wristwatch alarm that I had set for 5AM went off, followed by several others from the surrounding bunks. Slowly, we awoke one by one, sitting up groggily staring at the scene around us. Oh yeah, I'm here now. Official wake up time is 5:30 isn't it? Better get to work before that rolls around.

Reaching for the heavy white blanket that I'd somehow kicked off during the night, I started to fold it in the method prescribed by retired military people I'd talked to before coming in. Fold in half along the long edge, quarter folds at the front and back, then fold everything in half again to create a nice rectangular package. Tug corners to smooth out the wrinkles. Tuck in the corners of the folds with your finger or a toothbrush handle to create nice sharp edges. Use of water to create sharp corners is optional. Done.

As I contemplated whether I should handle my mosquito netting the same way, the loudspeakers crackled to life:

"The current time is 0530 hours. All new recruits out of bed."

A gaggle of drill instructors marched down the center aisle of our barracks. "This is day 2 of your adjustment period" one of them announced. "We will now demonstrate how you will be required to fold and arrange your bedding." He glanced at my meticulously folded block of oversized tofu. "Unfold that, you did it wrong."

Fold in thirds along the long edge, then fold in thirds the other way, leaving enough space between the folds so the whole thing stands up as a rectangular block. Tug out the wrinkles and tuck in the corners to form nice right angles. Water and toothbrush handle not necessary. Handle the mosquito netting the old way (bunkmate assistance required). Place folded mosquito netting atop pillow placed on edge of mattress. Place the folded blanket behind that. Done.

The loudspeaker blared again: "The current time is now 0545 hours. All new recruits assemble outside on the company assembly grounds in gym outfits. You have 1 minute. Move."

The fifty some odd new recruits in the same barracks as me dashed towards the exit in a mass frenzy punctuated by swearing, and the occasional bang from someone falling out of a top bunk in what is known colloquially as "taking the elevator" (坐電梯). This was followed by running around in panicked circles on the basketball court outside as we tried to find our designated positions in one of the 9 half remembered squads from the previous day.

"ATTENTION!" The sergeant of the day yelled into a bullhorn.

"Attention!" came the ragged cry from a few people. Oh shit, we were supposed to repeat that, weren't we?

"WHEN I CALL YOU TO ATTENTION, YOU WILL REPEAT THE WORD AND STOP MOVING! ATTENTION!!"

"ATTENTION!", we yelled.

"It has been over 3 minutes and you still aren't properly assembled. Did you bump your heads and forget about everything from yesterday? Figure out the recruit at the head of your squad (班頭) and line up after him by number. Now go back into your barracks and reassemble when I give the order! You have 10 seconds to get out of my sight!"

I'll spare you the details of what happened next, but I'm sure you can imagine the controlled chaos that transpired. About 5 minutes later we were finally assembled back outside in our designated order.

"Mess squad, break formation!", one of the sergeants yelled. "Everyone else, assemble in horizontal formation!"

As the dozen or so of us in the mess squad were led away by our squad leaders, hauling stainless steel baskets full of trays and utensils, I turned back and saw the rest of our company positioning themselves for pushups. The night before, our squad leaders had told us that given our extra work load as mess squad, we would be given certain privileges as compensation. Apparently, being exempt from this morning's physical training (PT) was one of them. I was actually somewhat disappointed, having done some previous preparation before starting basic.

My disappointment at not participating in PT was short-lived. We soon arrived at the ground level exit to the battalion kitchen where the cooks (also soldiers) were already rolling out breakfast.

"The dumb-waiter is down again today" our squad leader announced. "You will carry the food for our company downstairs to the mess hall by hand. Be careful not to drop anything, and watch out for the stairs, they're slippery. Last class we had a recruit end up with 2nd degree burns all over after he slipped while hauling a cauldron of soup."

Two by two, we carried giant stainless steel cauldrons filled with rice porridge, scalding hot tea, and the other breakfast side dishes down the ramp from the kitchen, around the building, and down the steep flight of stairs to the basement mess hall. I soon realized why the mess squad would be frequently excused from PT... we already got plenty of upper body exercise hauling food and utensils for 100+ new recruits as well as their officers and NCOs three times a day.

After setting the utensils for the officers and NCOs, as well as the communal pots of beverages and rice at the table for each squad, we hurriedly slurped up what breakfast we could, while the projection TV at the end of the mess hall was turned on to broadcast Taiwan Television (our only source of outside information while on base). Watered down soy / rice milk or scalding hot tea was the norm beverage-wise. This was followed by scrambled eggs mixed with corn or diced ham, pickles, and fried gluten (麵筋). The rice porridge was occasionally mixed with egg or canned corn (I've never seen anyone add either one of these to rice porridge outside the military). No need for the usual required mechanical eating movements here that everyone else had to abide by - another fringe benefit of being in the mess squad.

"The company is here, ASSUME YOUR POSITIONS!", someone yelled.

Four of us wearing white aprons, caps, and sleeve covers charged towards the pots of food, which had been placed in the hallway leading into the mess hall. Troops from the other companies in our brigade sharing the mess hall charged with similar tasks ran to their respective stations, as lines of tray bearing recruits appeared.

Unsure of what we were expected to do, we ladled food onto the trays of the new recruits marching in as best we could.

"Watch your portion sizes", one of our squad leaders said, "if you run out, then everyone else goes hungry."

Eventually, we would get better at estimating portion sizes. But during our first outing, the first recruits to arrive while the pots appeared to be full ended up with larger portions. Recruits arriving in the middle ended up with less, as we experienced a "Holy shit, where does this line end?"-moment; while recruits near the end ended up with their trays overflowing with surplus food as we realized we'd been too conservative with the portions as the end of the line came into sight.

Sorry. We're new at this too, in case you didn't notice.

All too soon, the new recruits finished breakfast, and the company filed out of the mess hall to wash their own trays. The mess squad was responsible for washing the communal pots, as well as the utensils for the officers and NCOs. As well as mopping the mess hall floor and wiping the tables. And hauling the food waste out to the rubbish pile for resale as pig feed.

By the time we managed to finish all this, the usual after-breakfast break time that the other recruits were enjoying was over.

The rest of the three day adjustment period passed in much the same way. Mundane administrative chores punctuated by the early departure of those of us in the mess squad near mealtimes. We worked on our thick stacks of forms in between group and individual photo shoots, chest x-rays, cleaning, and optional blood donation. Almost everyone volunteered to donate blood simply to spend half an hour in the air conditioned bloodmobile sipping the juice boxes offered to donors.

"No rush", one of the new recruits sitting next to me told the civilian nurse drawing our blood, who nodded knowingly.

On the morning of the fourth day, our real training began.

Our company assembled in formation on the parade ground in full BDUs (which we had slept in the night before) along with the new recruits from the rest of the brigade to take the formal oath, followed by a long address from a brigadier general who had dropped by especially for the occasion.

The rest of the mess squad and I watched this from the sidelines, as we hauled the day's breakfast down to the mess hall yet again. For us, there was no oath, no formal pep talk from the commanding general. When the rest of the company finally trooped down into the mess hall half an hour later, the tables were set, and we were at our designated positions wearing the white caps and aprons.

A few of my fellow mess squad troops congratulated each other on our "good luck". This sucks, I thought.

打飯班: Mess Squad

I have heard that basic training has been described as "Hurry up and wait". The hours that followed our first arrival on base certainly lived up to that description. Our squad leaders - a mix of sergeants and a few corporals (I later learned that the sergeants were career military, while the corporals were experienced draftees), hurriedly shuffled us between what seemed to be a maze of buildings, where upon arrival, we spent long moments sitting outside on our stools filling out paperwork that ranged from background checks ("List the names, addresses, and contact information of 3 male, and 3 female friends", "Do you have any direct relations living or working in Mainland China?"), to medical questionnaires ("Do you have any long term medical ailments?", "How would you classify your personality?"), and more practical matters ("Who do you wish to list as the main beneficiary of your military life insurance policy?").

With all the new recruits being shuffled around base, it took an effort not to get separated from one's squad, or to avoid losing any of the items we were hauling around.

"You're lucky that nowadays the brass have mandated a 3 day adjustment period for all new recruits", one of the sergeants warned as another hospital gown-wearing new recruit belatedly rushed back into the medical examination room for his gym clothes that he'd forgotten to put back on. "If you think this is hard, wait till the real work begins."

Finally, after yet another trip to wait outside yet another room containing yet another bored looking officer with more forms to fill out, our squad leaders led us all back to the basketball court outside our company barracks. Steel racks containing steel utensils sat at the front.

Ten dozen surgical mask-wearing young men with a variety of hairdos... mostly the shaggy "birdsnest hair" (鳥巢頭) that seems to be all the rage these days, stared at each other, shuffling from foot to foot. "We sure don't look like an army", I thought, "and this sure doesn't feel like how you always expect boot camp to be".

One of the sergeants spoke up: loud enough to be heard, but still no real yelling. "You will now proceed to the front squad by squad, where you will receive your mess kit. You will use the same items during your entire stay here, so don't lose anything."

Proceeding one by one to the head of the line, we each received a steel bowl, steel chopsticks, and a steel tray etched with "ARMY" (陸軍), or in several cases "TAIWAN GARRISON COMMAND" (警總) - the long defunct martial law era secret police agency disbanded in 1992. It is perhaps telling of how far Taiwan has come from those days that most of my fellow new recruits had never heard of the once feared state security body, or their creative applications of toothbrushes and car batteries to "subversive elements".

In other good news, the modern ROC military is really into recycling.

We were once again paraded single file into the battalion mess hall, where faceless troops wearing white aprons and baseball caps dumped portions of food onto our trays, before we were randomly led to one of the many square tables running up and down the length of the mess hall, each one with steel pots of rice, a watery soup-like liquid, and smaller steel bowls of pickles, and something resembling meat broth (滷汁).

"Remember" my friends had told me, "the military views mealtime as a hazing ritual. Act in groups when ordered, sit straight. They're expecting to nail you the first day when you don't know all the rules."

Armed with this bit of intelligence, I braced myself for a chewing out as several of the new recruits simply dropped their trays on the table, pulled out their stools, and started eating. To my surprise, none came.

"Sit down and listen up while you eat", a sergeant said, "I'm only going to explain this once."

He sat down at our table, his back remaining ramrod straight. "In the future, you will set your trays down at the table and pull out your benches silently as a group, only when ordered. Pass me the rice pot."

The rice pot made its way over in front of him, he filled his bowl methodically, placing the bowl below the outside rim of the pot. "You will not stand up until the meal is over. If you want something, ask your fellow soldiers to pass it over to you. When filling your bowl with rice or soup, never hold your bowl above the rim of the pot - that makes it look as if you're planning to dump food back in".

Holding the filled bowl in his left hand, he picked up his chopsticks and continued: "Your chopsticks are only for moving food between your tray, your bowl, and your mouth. When you are chewing your food, your chopsticks are to remain still. If your jaws are moving, your chopsticks should not be."

He then proceeded to eat methodically in a method befitting a robot. The rest of us attempted to emulate him, often failing. Till then, I'd never noticed how often I tend to shovel food with my chopsticks while chewing the previous bite.

The food that first night was representative of what we would be subsisting on for the rest of our stay in basic training. A thin cut of pork with the consistency of cardboard boiled in what appeared to be a watered down, fluorescent yellow curry, some limp green vegetable - boiled, something that looked like potatoes and canned corn boiled in the same curry sauce as the meat, and a few slices of dried tofu with a few crumbs of ground mystery meat. "On average, we have a daily food budget of about NT$30 per person here", the captain commanding our training company had said, "So its not haute cuisine, but it'll keep you alive".

As I contemplated whether I was authorized to dump the corn into my rice bowl from my tray to avoid having to pick up individual kernels, the sergeant finished his meal.

"When you are finished" he said, "Place your chopsticks back onto the largest space on your tray in front of you, then place your rice bowl upside down on top of it to signal to your fellow new recruits that you are done eating. When you have all finished, you will leave as a group as ordered by your table leader. Today, I will give the orders."

"All rise!", he ordered.

Everyone rose to their feet, with the sound of benches grinding against the tiled floor.

"You will rise together, and silently!", the sergeant said. And in what would become a refrain in basic training: "Redo that last action!"

We rose, trying not to bump into our benches, while stepping over them.

"Replace benches!", the sergeant ordered.

We shoved our benches back under the table as quietly as we could, and stood back at attention.

"Did I tell you to come back to attention?", the sergeant said. "Redo that last move. Keep your hands on the benches when you're done pushing them back, and look towards the person giving the orders so he knows when you're all ready. Do not come to attention till I order you to."

We pushed the benches back, kept our hands on the benches, and started back sideways at the sergeant from our bent over positions.

"Come to attention!" he ordered. "Retrieve trays!"

After another 5 minutes of breaking down that particular activity into its constituent parts, we were finally led out of the mess hall to the line of sinks outside our barracks, where we were each issued a piece of sponge the size of a postage stamp (for kids of my generation or younger, this is about the size of an SD memory card). Proceeding slowly forward, we dumped any remaining food into the first bin (to be sold to nearby farmers as pig feed - Taiwan is very much into garbage reduction: The pigs eat our scraps, then we eat the pigs), then scooped up soapy water from the second bin, before finally scrubbing our utensils in the sink.

Maybe it was the result of the watered down detergent or maybe it was the tiny sponges, but either way, our tableware retained a distinctly greasy feel throughout our entire stay. Its kind of romantic if you think about it: lubricating your utensils with food scraps for future generations of new recruits.

The trays went back into the steel baskets for each squad, carefully lined up in numerical order. The bowls, chopsticks, and sponges went back into our lockers.

Eventually, we were led back into the mess hall, from which the communal pots had suddenly disappeared. A quartet of middle aged ladies wielding hair clippers stood at one end, rapidly shearing the hair off an endless line of new recruits, lined up like lambs at the slaughterhouse. Everyone got the treatment, from the kid with the most elaborate salon styled hair, to the ones who'd already gone through the trouble of shaving their heads beforehand. There were no combs on the clippers, no wash, no blow dry, and no brush at the end.

Relieved of our hair, and still wearing our surgical masks, it was now all but impossible to tell people apart from one another.

"Squad 3, assemble!", one of the drill instructors shouted. We were led back up to the sinks to face one of our two corporal squad leaders, as well as what seemed like a mountain of dirty pots, pans, and vats. "So that's where all the communal stuff went", I thought.

The corporal looked at us grimly. "Squad 3", he said, "you have been selected as the mess squad (打飯班) for our company. For the duration of your stay in basic training, you will be responsible for setting up, clearing, and cleaning the mess hall, as well as for washing all the communal utensils."

The dozen or so of us started at each other in the fading light, as well as back towards the barracks where the rest of our company was seated out in front, still filling out paperwork.

"I'm warning you ahead of time", the corporal said, "you will have much more work to do and less rest time, compared to the other new recruits in your company. Now get to work."

It was another hour before we finished, and another three hours after that of other random work, before dashing to the shower room for 2 minute combat showers (6 showers shared between close to four dozen new recruits), meticulously arranging our toiletries and personal items under our beds (toothbrushes must be placed in our metal cups, pointed towards the front of the room), and standing at attention for bedtime inspection, before we hurriedly crawled under our mosquito-netting into bed for lights out. The footsteps of our squad leaders echoed from the walkway as they periodically patrolled the barracks to make sure we were all lying in bed, as our first day finally drew to a close.

九個班: 9 Squads

Longtian (隆田) is a small town nestled amongst rice fields and mango orchards in rural Tainan, along the main eastern rail line. The town would be wholly unremarkable for one of its size, except for its close proximity to the army bases at Guantian（官田）, Danei（大內） , and Shinjhong（新中）.

Taiwan has changed a great deal over the past two decades, and the ROC military has been no exception. Far from the old "Reconquer the Mainland"（反攻大陸）martial law days, the armed forces have since been de-politicized and placed under civilian control. The armed forces have also moved into a defensive role, with the army establishing reserve units patterned on the U.S. Army National Guard. Amongst other things, the bases near Longtian are home to several of these army reserve infantry brigades charged with providing basic training for new Army and Air Force recruits.

Longtian Station

As our train pulled into the station in the early afternoon, I stumbled out into the bright southern Taiwan sunshine and heat, along with a few hundred other new Air Force recruits from around the north. Led by our flag wielding civilian handlers, we were hurriedly escorted out of the station into a fleet of waiting busses. Safely inside the air conditioned motorcoaches, the fleet of busses rumbled down broad avenues running through rice fields, while the onboard TVs blared. Outside, the pastoral scenes were broken occasionally by small shops hawking stir-fry (熱炒), karaoke, and agricultural equipment.

"This is the middle of nowhere", one of the Taipei city kids grumbled as others dozed off.

The town of Longtian. Any contact with the town was incidental on the way to and back home from base.

Eventually, the busses pulled up to a gate in a long concrete wall guarded by rifle wielding soldiers. "We're there!", someone shouted, as everyone ripped open the curtains to peek outside as we drove in.

Driving onto base, our busses passed between three story faux-brick facade buildings, each surrounding a basketball court now filled with folding metal stools topped with white drawing boards. Some of the stools were already filled by other luggage carrying kids in civilian clothes. Trees dotted the scene along with somewhat ornate looking lamp posts. Except for the large central parade area and the green camouflage Humvees parked along the roads, we might as well have been looking at dormitories on move-in day from any decently sized university.

Our bus pulled to a stop before one of the buildings. An army officer wearing camouflage fatigues (the military's working clothes of choice) climbed aboard. 45 new recruits braced ourselves for the expected chewing out that you see in the movies...

Instead, the officer pulled out a spray bottle of disinfectant and box of disposable surgical masks, one of which he promptly donned. "Hands out for disinfection!" he said matter-of-factly, as he walked down the aisle distributing the masks. "Put your surgical masks on and do not take them off until ordered. We don't want one of you making everyone else sick."

Eventually, we were shuttled off the bus to the stools lined up in front of one of the buildings, each of which was a barracks housing a single company （連） of new recruits. Underneath the drawing board on each stool was a large brown envelope containing a stack of forms. Remember, I was told by my friends who had been through before, you will spend your first few days filling out mounds of paperwork.

Another soldier walked in front of us wearing a yellow armband bearing the words "Duty Squad Leader" (值星班長). I strained to see the rank insignia on his collar: two thin chevrons atop one thick chevron: a sergeant（中士）. What happened next has been blurred in my memory by a month of similar events, but the main gist of it should be familiar to anyone who has been through it.

"Pick up your stools, drawing boards, luggage, and form up into nine squads facing me!" （「在我面前排成九個班！」）, he said in a firm, but not especially menacing voice.

Roughly ten dozen new recruits in civvies shuffled around thoroughly confused by what was just said. After a few more moments of confused movement with no end in sight, the sergeant spoke again:

"When I say 'squads', I mean rows. Now form up into 9 squads facing me." he said, this time with a slight edge in his voice.

Ten dozen new recruits started to move.

"Did I tell you to move yet?" he said, the volume of his voice going up.

Ten dozen new recruits froze.

"You do not move until I order you to move!" he said. "Now move!"

In physics, seemingly chaotic motions can lead to the eventual formation of coherent patterns. Somehow in the running, pushing, and shoving, 9 lines started to form.

"Attention!"（「注意！」） the sergeant said.

Everyone looked up.

"When I say 'Attention', you will stop whatever it is you are doing and repeat the word 'Attention'! Now Attention!" he said.

"Attention", came the ragged cry from the confused masses.

Sarge somehow conveyed disgust without changing his overall expression. "Do you think you're at summer camp or something?" he said. "Attention!"

"Attention!" came the reply.

"Attention!" he repeated.

"ATTENTION!" everyone yelled.

"Is forming into 9 squads really that difficult?" he said. "I want the same number of men in each squad, arranged from shortest at the rear to tallest at the front. You have 10 seconds. Now move!"

In the ensuing confusion, I dashed for the front end of one of the squads near the front. After some jockeying and further rearrangement, I found myself randomly positioned as the second member of the third squad.

I didn't know it at the time, but this seemingly random arrangement would end up having a massive impact on my experience in basic training.

Seated in our new positions, we waited to see what would happen next.

The sergeant spoke again: "Now listen carefully. On the second floor, you will be issued your uniforms and accessories. There are tables with sample camouflage fatigue hats, shirts, as well as combat boots of various sizes. You will first determine which size fits you for each of these. You will then report these sizes to the soldier in the room at the end, who will issue you the supplies. You will then return here with the supplies. Perform this action squad by squad. Replace the sample items neatly as you found them. Now move."

Fatigues are work clothes meant for hard physical work. When not dressed in your gym outfit you will be wearing fatigues. The conclusion is left as an exercise for the reader.

Doing as we were told, we dutifully reported our hat, shirt, and shoe sizes to the soldiers standing in the room at the end. We were issued a metal washbasin filled with a steel cup, three new olive drab undershirts (Proudly Made in Taiwan), three white underpants, a green camouflage web belt, a long and short set of dark blue sport pants, and a red white and blue sports jacket. Further piled atop this were two sets of fatigues in tropical camouflage pattern, a camouflage cap with the ROC's white sun and blue sky emblem, a steel canteen and cover, a set of new combat boots wrapped in plastic, and a new pair of white running shoes in a blue shoebox bearing the insignia of the Ministry of National Defense.

All of this was heaped into a large mound in our arms that we struggled (often unsuccessfully), to carry back to our seats downstairs in a single load.

"It took you all long enough", the sergeant said at the end of the process. "We're all running late since you ladies decided to take your time getting here. Inside the barracks, you will find your bunks and lockers arranged by number. There will be four squads in the room on each level. You will carry all your things into your rooms. For now, throw everything on your bed. Change into the gym outfit you were just issued, then report back here in formation. For now, don't bother with the running shoes. You have 5 minutes. Move!"

Following another mess of running, collisions, and accessories flying everywhere, we dashed into our respective rooms. Inside, we found what was to be our home for the next month: two rows of narrow bunk beds, topped with individual mattresses barely a foot and a half wide, and flanked by tall steel lockers. A heavy blanket and mosquito netting were neatly folded onto the pillow of each spot.

Throwing what were now our only worldly possessions on our beds, we hurriedly ripped our gym outfits and olive drab undershirts out of their coverings. Donning our new outfits, there was no time for contemplation as we dashed back outside towards our new lives.