- Somalia (Chapter 56 - World food programme)

COMMENT | The quote that opens this review happens towards the end of Major D Swami Gwekanandam’s (henceforth the major) career in the crucible, which was Somalia.

The quote exemplifies “the orang kita” mentality, which crept into the armed services and demonstrates how destructive this agenda is to the Malaysian security forces. The fact that it came from a convert is even more depressing.

Readers will discover this and much more in a memoir which can only be described as Dickensian in its portrayal of social order and Kubrickian in its depiction of warfare and military dysfunction. 

This is a politically incorrect memoir. The major not only highlights the systemic racial dysfunction in the army but also does not spare himself from scrutiny. Being a good officer does not mean you are a civilised man.

There will be chapters where readers wonder about the self-destructive behaviour of the major when it comes to playing the corporate and racial game, but always, what remains is the major’s devotion to his men under his command.

There are no heroes or villains in this memoir, only men shaped by the system and propaganda they serve.

Retired major general Toh Choon Siang writes in a forward that this “is not meant for faint-hearted readers” and rightly claims that this book should be “…. essential reading for all junior officers engaged in tactical-level command and leadership training.

It offers valuable lessons on pertinent leadership traits, particularly on moral and physical courage.”

A grunt’s eye view

Lieutenant Colonel Ivan Lee, a comrade of the major’s, and readers will discover a mercurial character in his own right, writes of the man who is known as “the Legend” - “Whether deep in the jungles of West Malaysia, Sarawak, or Somalia, Major D Swami performed his duty to the best of his ability and bravery to lead men into battle. He is the man you want by your side when bullets start flying.”

You have not read a memoir like this from former service personnel. This is not a hagiography or propagandistic narrative of service to the country. 

This is a memoir of the toll genuine patriotism takes on men who define it as brotherhood and not as devotion to political parties and empty slogans.

This is a grunt’s eye view of the army and its racial and class dysfunction, and a snapshot of what it means to come from a disenfranchised background but still serve your country.

Unlike many memoirs from local service personnel, who attempt to aggrandise service to king and country, the major’s narratives are extremely humanistic accounts of the people who exploit the system and those who are there to genuinely do their job.

You have to understand, when the major uses the word “commie”, for instance, he uses it not as some sort of partisan buzzword but rather from real experience fighting against combatants who were using violence not only on soldiers but also on civilians.

There are not only descriptions of jungle warfare and the training that preceded it, but also of how soldiers behave on the battlefield.

The fear, paranoia, and yes, at times, cowardice are on full display in these battlefield narratives.

All this is related in the Major’s hyper frenetic prose, which strangely enough delivers a value judgment but also empathy at the same time.

There are elements of body horror in this memoir which would not be out of place in a David Cronenberg film.

The major graphically describes battlefield injuries, scenes of carnage, banal brutality, and grotty episodes of jungle life, like removing ticks from one’s genitals.

Non-Malays in the military

Readers will discover that besides the adrenaline-filled passages of jungle and city warfare, there is also the most fearsome of creatures, the military’s bureaucracy, to contend with.

There are narratives of skullduggery that would make corporate politics look tame, and this is where readers will actually see how non-Malay officers often play out their brethren for rewards of promotions and business opportunities after service.

Indeed, reading this memoir, you will discover how non-Malays are their own worst enemy, which is the aim of the system, I suppose.

Beginning with his life in a large, boisterous family on an estate, recollections of youthful capers are clouded by the shadow of war and occupation. It would seem that the major was always haunted by the aftermath of violence, either through war or anarchy.

The former was when his father, who was with the Malayan People’s Anti-Japanese Army (MPAJA), was caught and tortured by the Kempeitai for smuggling medical supplies - “When he came home, he was like a skeleton. My Mum was terrified looking at him.”

The latter, when his father was attacked with changkols and machetes by workers who “were pissed off with the white manager” - “Blood was everywhere. I took a sneak peek, as no one was allowed in. The space around my dad was covered. I saw Mr Kittu busy dabbing at my dad’s wounds.”

Joining the army as a grunt from an ethnic minority working class demanded acceptance of racism and petty cruelty - “We Indians were constantly denigrated. We just had to suck it up. We were outnumbered and could get killed.

“They referred to all Indians as Hindus, regardless of their faith. They used the word Hindu on us. The way they used the word Hindu made it sound like a dirty word.”

You will discover how racism and discipline shaped an officer from the other ranks, but also how compassion and brotherly love ensured that the men the major led served their country by honouring the kinship men formed in severe circumstances.

A second family

Here’s the thing about the major’s narrative: it is punctuated with hijinks, camaraderie and the pure joy of being alive in horrendous situations.

The major describes anarchic moments of joy and friendships between soldiers of various races. He notes that with the rise of religious fervour in the armed forces, it has destroyed the bonds of fellowship between warriors.

The major describes how tradecraft from the various branches of the army collide with the reality of on-ground operations. He describes but never fetishises the instruments of war and the men who use them.

What readers will be dealing with is an unvarnished, oftentimes vulgar look into how soldiers behave on and off duty.

A good soldier compartmentalises. The major has two families. The one at home and the one he served with.

Throughout this book, you will discover that the devotion to the former bled into the latter. The major makes it very clear that you have to love the men you serve with if the desired outcome is loyalty, service, and sacrifice.

On a personal note, I have met many men who served with and under the major who are sometimes moved to tears for the respect and devotion he showed them.

All of them said this of the major, there was nothing he would not do for them, even if it meant throwing himself at enemy fire if it bought them more time.

One of the more heart-wrenching chapters of the book deals with the major’s experience in Somalia.

When kindness kills

Thankfully, this happens towards the end of the book, where the major has become the kind of leader that the army unwittingly forged.

The chapters on Somalia are the most difficult to read. The major’s description of the attitude of soldiers, local and foreign, aid agencies and governments is eye-opening, dispelling the romanticised Hollywood versions of these moments in history.

The major describes the world as something that is not how he wishes it to be.

This bit is especially heartbreaking - “My soldiers and I know it’s taboo to toss food to children. The last time my soldiers did that was when the main body of the 7th Mech arrived in January 1994.

“I was there earlier on Dec 15, 1993. There was a commotion when the package was fought over, and one of them got it. The children started running, chasing after the child with the package, all of them disappearing over a huge mound of garbage.

“What was left was a weaker child; he was stabbed in the stomach and left to die for a package thrown by us with good intentions. A bloody stupid act of pity and compassion, wrong time, wrong place. Food thrown with good intentions in Somalia can kill.”

A postscript reveals the major ensconced in the light of his loving family. He is still fuelled by righteous anger. His body is failing him after years of arduous service, but his family and comrades are the reward for serving his country.

He built a life despite serving a system that failed him and could have called on him to make the ultimate sacrifice. This is what it means to be a “Non” in this country.

For veterans who have served in the armed services of their country, Major Swami is a reminder that the gods of war create natural-born soldiers.

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