0121Singapore
pet health and welfare educational for animal lovers, excerpts from The Glamorous Vets,
Singapore, sponsored by AsiaHomes Internet.
A soldier under suspicion has escaped.
"An SUS has just escaped from the WDB, Sir!" shouted Provost Sergeant Seah over
the phone.
It was one of those hot and humid April midnights with many small sparkling stars dotting
the black sky. I was the Provost Army's duty officer and had just inspected the
military and regimental policemen at eleven p.m. and checked out Panther, a black Labrador
Cross tracker dog at the kennels.
I was also the veterinary officer as well as the platoon officer in the Dog Unit.
Panther, a one-year Labrador cross had allergic reactions on his body. His skin had been
sensitive to some chemicals on the floor of the kennels. He was given injections by
me to stop the infections and allergies. You could see that he looked worried
as he reluctantly posed for a photograph in the presence of his veterinarian who had
injected him on several occasions, the first two being viral vaccinations.
Then Panther suffered the indignity of having to wear an Elizabeth Collar round his neck
to stop him from continually licking his itchy legs and belly.
Sometimes he
succeeded in getting rid of the uncomfortable collar. He would run away when
he saw the veterinarian. He had been given to the Army Dog Unit by a member of the
public as he was not permitted to be kept in the industrial parks. A good
"car park warden warning" dog had been "harassing" the car parking
warden who would do spot checks on cars to ensure that drivers display the car parking
coupon on the dash board at $0.90 per hour. Those car owners without the coupons
would be given a summons ticket on the windscreen below the wiper. The fine was
thirty dollars. How could the warden do her job if dogs like Panther could
forewarn the car owners? What was unforgivable was that Panther actually barked at
the warden. A new ruling forbidding the keeping of dogs in industrial park shops was
implemented by the Landlord and Panther had to leave.
At the Dog Unit, Panther was trained as a tracker dog and was found to have a keen sense
of smell and tracking. Some trainee dogs, with tails between their legs, ran when
they heard gun shots during training but these noises did not bother Panther.
Back to the problem facing us now. I thought it was impossible to escape from the
Woodlands Detention Barracks (WDB) which detained servicemen mainly for drug
offences
 High perimeter barbed wired fences over 12 feet high, bright spot lights
and a tight security. In some parts of the fences, a roll of concertina-like
wire was stretched one on top of the other. Surely, nobody could escape.
 In addition to the usual six or seven lines of barbed stretched between the
Y-shaped railings of the fence, commonly seen in all military camps, the WDB was well
fortified with two rolls of barbed wire unwound like a concertina placed above the
lines. Nobody could escape by jumping over the fence I had thought to myself during
my tour of duty. But nothing was impossible in real life "when there's a will,
there's a way". Now the Duty Provost Officer had a problem."When there's a will,
there's a way" had significant meaning to me on the day I was on duty now when there
was an escape. This fortified fortress had a large number of national
servicemen soldiers who were drug addicts. The heroin addict population in Singapore
was estimated to be 13,000 in the early 1970s. (Heroin, known as "white powder"
remains the main drug of abuse even in 2001.)
It did not deterred a SUS (soldier under suspicion) from running away from the cold turkey
treatment which meant a one-week detoxification programme to get rid of the physical
dependence on drugs. As the inmates had no drugs, they would feel cold, had nose
dripping with fluids and shaking all over the body as their stomach muscles cramp.
After the treatment, the inmates would receive footdrills and physical training to restore
their health and to install discipline. Counselling would be conducted to impart the
social skills and to monitor their progress. Even if the inmate's body was not
dependent on the drug (physical dependence), the inmate's mind may still crave for the
euphoric pleasures of the drug (psychological dependence).
These national servicemen addicted inmates were 18 years old and were usually first-time
drug addicts. They would be treated compassionately, but they would be given a floor mat
and isolated in a cell. A small hole at the wooden door would be opened to monitor
their behaviour as some wanted to commit suicide.
If they did not respond to the treatment, they would be given severe punishment to stop
them being a bad influence on others. They would be locked up 5-13 years of
imprisonment with 3 - 12 strokes of the cane according to the Misuse of Drugs Act amended
in 1998 to deal with repeated drug abusers who are not able to kick the habit after going
through repeated Drug Rehabilitation Centre treatments.
"The WDB officer wants the tracker dogs to help them," Sergeant Seah continued,
cursing away in the Hokkien dialect as he envisaged more of his time would be spent in
attending a court martial which would be formed after each escape. His pals at the
WDB might face disciplinary action. He had just attended a court martial for an AWOL
(absent with leave) servicemen this afternoon and now there would be more court martials
for him.
"The Land Rover driver is on standby for you Sir," said Sergeant Seah, a young
19-year old with a rotund tummy, said munching his bread with jam and butter.
Should I disturb the Commanding Officer at his home? Was it necessary to phone him?
This was my first case of escape and would be the only one in my tour of national service
duty. Escapes from the Detention Barracks were so rare and this had to happen on the
night when I was the duty officer. Lieutenant Colonel Giam thanked me for calling
him and gave permission for the tracker dog to be dispatched expeditiously.
Panther hopped onto the Land Rover, all bright and ready for a real task. He had received
training in the sparse jungles of the few areas left for training and had gone to much
denser jungles overseas for real training. But this was the real thing. A test of
his sniffling and tracking skills.
By the time we reached the WDB, it would be twenty minutes since the escapee had left the
WDB. The Woodlands camp was in an isolated area of Singapore. There were some
wooded areas, a railway track and farms.
Would the kind farmers offer aid to this young man of 18 years old? Why would a young man
waste his life on heroin drugs?
The sweaty socks of the escapee were given to Panther by his handler.
"Go, Panther , go!" commanded his visual tracker, Lance corporal Tan as if
Panther needed his orders. Panther strained at the leash and we headed for the
wooded area, past the rusty railway line into the bowels of the dense tropical
forest. It was so dark that you could not see each other from 2 metres away.
Fortunately there was no thunderstorm rain to wash away the escapee's scent. It
should be just too easy a task for Panther .
A sharp clicking sound was heard distinctly as we entered a bush area in the secondary
jungle away from the railway track. I thought it was a tree branch being stepped
on. Or something friable. The SUS was a triad member of gang 0883, with
tattoos of dragon and phoenix on his chest, but we hoped he had no gun.
"There are some spitting cobras in this wooded area," warned the visual tracker
Sergeant Wong. The land rover driver stopped dead in his track and would not want
to venture further. He had never encountered snakes during his life growing up in a
rapidly urbanized Singapore. Well, maybe a few poisonous snakes at the Singapore
Zoological Gardens were seen from the safety of the glass window.
Time was of the essence. Should we leave this paralyzed by fear serviceman behind?
"Don't worry," I said. "You are wearing your spectacles and the spitting
cobra's venom would not shoot into your eyes."
How would we avoid the spitting cobras when we could not even see each other amongst the
trees and shrubs, in the dense darkness of the night?
"The noises we made would have frightened the spitting cobras off. Our
torches will scare them too, " I comforted the serpentine phobic soldier and I
demonstrated by shining it at the darkest patch of the tall blades of lallang grass.
Something moved. It could be the nocturnal rat or a snake.
In any case, we had no time to worry as Panther disappeared. It was like fox hunting
in England. Only that Panther was the hound and the SUS was the fox. There was
no loud barking, unlike hounds, to warn the quarry.
The visual tracker checked for freshly broken twigs and stepped on grass patch in the
darkness flashing his torch. It was already 30 minutes since the soldier had gone
missing. Panther led us to an open gate passing a road full of pot holes.  There
were two big signs which all army personnel should be afraid off. One with a skull
and bones warning that this was the gate to a live firing area. The other sign board
had a green soldier pointing a gun at a person who had surrendered.
We paused. Should we proceed into this live firing area and pursue the quarry or
just give up? And become branded as ''useless" soldiers? The reputation
of the Tracker Unit was at stake. Maybe, the Army would not be conducting mortar
bomb firing tonight. It was past midnight. There was no sound of bombs
exploding. On the other hand, the firing exercise might be commencing.
If the gate was open, would there be an impending live firing exercise? I really didn't
know. No other military Land Rovers were around. The place was eerily
silent.
To enter the gate and proceed up the track might mean instant death if the mortar bomb
exploded into you. Panther was one of those tracker dogs you dream about. He
had this peculiar trait. He would hunt for the quarry for the first 200 metres, come
back and lie down in front of you if he saw the suspected soldier. If there was
nobody, he would stand up. He would be excellent in jungle warfare. But he would
only do it for one handler. The handler was with him tonight.
The handler gave him a hand signal. He went to the side of the track and disappeared
into the bushes, past a small stream. So far, so good. No whistling of mortar bombs
overhead. No sound of soldiers at the night exercise. It was 2 a.m. But the
soldiers could be preparing to fire the bombs from a far distance.
Panther returned and lay down in front of his handler. This must be an easy case for
him. The scent was fresh. There was no breeze. Dew had fallen onto our
black berets and it was slightly cold. No distraction from gunfire and
vehicles. Just no sound at all.
Should we wait till we get clearance from somebody as to whether there was going to be a
live firing exercise? Who do we contact? We don't know.
"Why don't we wait till the morning? Better be safe than sorry." said the lance
corporal driver trying to warm up his hands. Was the reputation of the Provost
Tracker Dog Unit worth risking one human and dog's life? It was not a real war here.
It was a war of the heart and mind. To enter the "killing field" or not?
The lance corporal was asked to stay behind.
The tracker dog took us to a big Banyan tree and his nose pointed upwards. There was
the young man with crew cut hair, in blue shorts and bare chested, hidden amongst the
branches. The "SUS" imprinted on his black T-shirt had been taken off as
it would alert others that he had escaped although I doubted many members of the public
would know what "SUS" meant as these T-shirts were rarely seen outside the
detention barracks.
Certainly, we would not have had caught him without the sharp nose of the tracker
dog. It was a relief to all that the SUS had been captured so quickly.
A sharp whistling scream shattered the stillness of the night from the direction of the
gate. A whistling sound meant a lot to infantry soldiers as we had night training
exercises involving mortar bombs. Could it be the flight of the mortar bomb
being fired on night training exercise and was the bomb heading towards us? Should we
run or fall flat on the ground? What a way to be killed in action.
The land rover driver laughed. He had used the police whistle to play a prank on us.
The fear of sweat just enveloped our body and our heart stopped beating when we heard the
shrill whistle. "Can't you guys be less serious? There's no spitting cobras
around!" he said cooly.
It was with a lot of restraint of 2 of us to prevent Sergeant Seah from assaulting
this joker. It was no joke simulating a mortar bomb flying through the night air and
making us see life ending for us if hit by the bomb!
I hoped that the disciplinary action for the provost guards would be less severe.
They were young men of around eighteen years old, serving as military and regimental
policemen during their two and a half years of national service in the Provost
Unit. This was one of the very rare escapades of a Soldier Under Suspicion.
 Panther recovered from his contact allergy skin disease after 4
weeks. It took a few weeks for his coat to grow but a few months for him not to run away
when he saw the Army Dog veterinarian nearby.
Note: Woodlands Detention Barracks do not exist in real life. Drugs
used by addicts in Singapore are: narcotics (opium, heroin known as "peh hoon",
morphine), cannabis or ganja (marijuana), stimulants (amphetamines like Ectasy in 2000),
depressants (barbiturates) and inhalants (glue, paint thinners).
Operation Ferret involving the Central Narcotics Bureau, Police and the
Customs officers was launched in April 1977 and was said to be a success with 4,000 people
arrested in six months and drug traffickers closing shop. |
