THE MEMOIRS OF MUSTAPHA HUSSAIN - Malaysia Today

82 Memoirs of Mustapha Hussain
A volunteer would ask, “Why is the artillery not working properly?”
The answer: “It would only work well if one applies grease (Grist) to its
wheels.”
Once a year, Malay Apprentice Volunteers were taken to the Port
Dickson (PD) military camp by train. Upon arrival at the Port Dickson
Railway Station, we walked six miles to the camp, a short distance from
the beach. I had been there when I was fifteen, as a cadet at the King
Edward VII School. Those who had not been to PD would exclaim loudly,
“Wow!” when their eyes caught sight of the beautiful sandy beaches.
The military camp then only consisted of one permanent building,
while the kitchen, canteen and toilets were temporary constructions. We
slept on low single beds under tents. Our rifles were left upright and
chained in a row just outside our tents. Everyday, we had to march in
those unbearable uniforms. We also had sham-fights using blanks.
In the late afternoons, we made a beeline for the beach to swim. The
bayonet that had been idle for so long came to be used, not to kill enemies,
but to spear crabs.
Breakfast was very European – two half-boiled eggs and toast with
a kind of delicious jam no longer available now. Evening meals consisted
of local food from a Hailam Chinese canteen just outside the camp.
At the Port Dickson camp, I completed my emulation of the other
volunteers, especially the non-Malay volunteers, when I had my first drink
of beer. It tasted and smelled like fermented mango. I wondered what kept
people going back for more. I managed to finish a small bottle, after which
I felt flushed. Both my ears and face felt as if they had swollen to double
their size. When I made my way home alone the ground felt uneven. I
then remembered Matang Indians after their toddy sessions. Once inside
my tent, I went to sleep despite friends coaxing me to chit-chat. My bed
began to spin and I imagined huge fishes swimming around my bed. That
was my first encounter with alcohol.
After two weeks at the Port Dickson military camp, we returned to
Kuala Lumpur as disciplined soldiers.