"Throw Him Down Ten Times"
He made unarmed combat our most feared course. At the end of a single day, our uniforms were torn and buttons gone. (My kind Mom had double stitched my army uniform buttons although I told her that wasn't necessary. Even that did not prevent some of the buttons from being torn off.)
"Each time I blow my whistle, judo your partner ten times using the hip throw," the Sikh ordered. "When I blow again, your partner will in turn judo you ten times. And after I blow again, throw him down ten times, this time with the shoulder throw." After being hurled countless times with various throws, we were dazed. Now we had to hurl our partner countless times. My head was spinning.
On another occasion, the big Sikh started the lesson by saying, �I need a volunteer to help me demonstrate a hand lock.� Silence . . . . Of course nobody volunteered. �All right. YOU there, the one yawning, you have just volunteered." Everyone else laughed with relief.
The yawning man stepped forward. The big Sikh said, �Now walk towards me." As an ox going to the slaughterhouse, the poor man reluctantly did so, his feet dragging on the ground. When they were two feet apart, with one swift movement like a leopard the Sikh went behind the back of the man, grabbed one of his hands, forced it behind his back, and bend his hand at the wrist. The man screamed. After a few eternal seconds, the Sikh mercifully let the man go. "Now do the same thing to your partner. Then switch, and your partner will do the same thing to you. I�ll be watching you closely. I want everyone to inflict pain. If you don�t, I will do it to you myself." (See photo of my partner doing this hand lock on me.)
In the same way, we performed all kinds of locks. Our arms, hands, legs, and bodies were bent in angles and into shapes we never thought possible.
"Kill, Kill, Kill!"
The instructor often got us into a wild frenzy. "GO! Your partner is a communist bastard. Kill him! KILL! KILL! He raped your mother and sister. NOW KILL HIM!"
We became wild ferocious beasts. In an exhausted stupor, we shouted in response, "KILL! KILL! KILL!!" as we kicked, threw, punched. "Kill the communist bastards! They raped my mother and sister! KILL! KILL! KILL THEM ALL!" (The mother-sister theme reminds me today of Zidane's World Cup 2006 soccer head butt. He thought the Italian player had insulted his mother and sister.) Those were the 80s with communism believed to be the greatest threat. Maybe a more contemporary version would be to kill terrorists.
Speaking of head butting, we learned that too, although I can�t recall us actually practicing head butting. Or maybe we did, and the head butting had caused my memory loss of the head butting practices. One thing I can recall, however, was that our instructor enthusiastically encouraged us to head butt our enemy on their heads whenever given the chance, such as when he was standing right behind us. If we butt someone�s head with our own, wouldn�t our head hurt just as much? �Yes," said the Singh. "Your head will hurt just as much, but psychologically, it will be more painful for the enemy. Because you initiated the head butt, you are more prepared for it." Hmmm . . . I wondered if I could test this psychological theory on the battlefield. I would head butt my enemy and ask him or her to rate the pain on a scale of one to ten. I likewise would rate my own pain and compare the results.
Coming back to reality, a platoon mate skipped a session or two. He couldn't endure the training. It was AWOL (Absence Without Official Leave) which could bring severe punishment. But he got away with it. No, I am not divulging his identity.
Hard Ground "OUCH!"
Fortunately, we trained mostly on soft ground, with one big exception. As the National Day Parade approached, we trained on granite road because that was the surface on which we were to perform our unarmed combat demonstration (in front of the President and the entire nation).
Picture this. Your body is lifted high, and then smacked down hard on the granite ground by a judo throw. Injuries were common, but we had to endure. If every injured man were to quit, no one would be left. To minimize pain and to prevent serious injury, it was imperative that we learn to fall properly. The throwing man must help by lifting the arm of the falling man to soften the fall, but this was easier said than done. Frequent arguments arose between my partner and me.
"You f--king #@#X0X! Why didn't you lift my arm when I fell?"
"I did. I really did!"
Sore Muscles
One of my muscles was always sore during the unarmed training period, especially the day after a session. Can you guess which muscle? My leg muscles? My hamstrings or my thighs? Or my arms from the constant throwing? No, it was my gluteus, or butt muscles. At that time, I didn't know anything about exercise physiology, and I wasn�t even aware that such a muscle existed. I didn�t know exactly why my gluteus, instead of my other muscles, should hurt. I could only surmise that my gluteus were weak and that this muscle was much used during unarmed combat training. So for readers preparing for unarmed combat training, you may want to train your gluteus by doing exercises such as squats and lunges.
Am I free for unarmed training? I much prefer line dancing which is so popular today in Singapore. Easy choice. |
