SINGAPORE — The commanding officer said to the group of us during practice drill: "We've attached a laser to the rifle to let you know whether you've hit the target. (It's) like laser tag."

He was cracking a joke. There was no way firing the SAR21 rifle was anything like laser tag.

For one, the rifle alone weighed 4kg. Besides propping up the weapon against my shoulder, I also had to remember a series of instructions on how to load the magazine, cock the rifle and take aim.

For someone who has never held a firearm, nothing can quite describe the rush of adrenaline I felt when I took my first shot.

The loud "crack" of the rifle, the strong recoil jamming the weapon back into my shoulder, and the whiff of gunpowder (we fired blanks filled with gunpowder) made the simulation exercise even more realistic.

Firing the SAR21 rifle was the highlight of all the activities I tried during the first women's National Service (NS) boot camp. A smaller-scale edition of what a full NS stint is like, it was held over the first September weekend and is jointly organised by the Ang Mo Kio Women's Executive Committee and the Advisory Council on Community Relations in Defence.

I did not get to stay overnight at the military bunks at Maju Camp in Clementi, unlike the other 103 participants. I did, however, get to observe them tasting field rations, learning evacuation drills and going through the standard obstacle course, before having a go at those activities myself.

The obstacle course was another memorable experience — I was left with rope burns and torn skin on my fingers from trying to climb the low rope.

While other stations such as crossing the ditch and duck-walking under the corridors were relatively manageable, I looked up in trepidation when I arrived at the low rope station, wondering how I would haul myself up.

KEEP ME HANGING ON

After a short brief by the female instructors, I decided to give it a go. I jumped to grab onto the rope, but could only hold on for two seconds before slipping and sliding down miserably.

I must have tried it another 20 times. I struggled to hold onto the rope while simultaneously willing myself to hook the rope around my feet to create a "step". This manoeuvre, the instructors said, would give me a firm footing as I climbed the rope.

What I really had was just my firm resolve — and that died after a while and I did not progress further than just leaping, clinging and sliding.

Failing to complete this activity did little to mar my experience at the two-day event. When I went home to tell my younger 23-year-old brother what I experienced, he scoffed, saying: "Try climbing the rope with a 15kg field pack."

Indeed, what the participants went through were nowhere near the rigour and intensity of what full-time national servicemen do.

It is no wonder when it was reported that the event was oversubscribed, online users made comments stating that the boot camp was merely a "chalet", or a "holiday" for the women.

Having gone through a part of it, I would say it was more like an extended learning journey, where participants were taken to different stations to try their hand at the training activities.

The organisers never pitched it as a full NS experience, nor was it a recruitment exercise. It was to give women a chance to experience what their sons, husbands, brothers, uncles and nephews went through.

One of the organisers said that the deliberate choice in allowing women of all ages to join the camp was so that it would not be restricted to those who were younger and "fitter". The activities and level of intensity had to be calibrated and adjusted accordingly.

RELIVING SHARED EXPERIENCES

For many of these women, sleeping in a military bunk and seeing a SAR21 rifle was already an eye-opener, enabling them to have lively conversations about NS with their male family members and friends.

One participant, Madam Patsy Chong, 61, a freelance teacher, said that her sons never spoke about their NS experiences with her, and she is hopeful and excited to have some topic of common interest now during their chats.

For others, the camp went further than sparking conversation. Athi Ramesh Athirah, a 13-year-old student, has set her sights on joining the army when she's older and "hopefully fitter".

Whether the boot camp served to inspire young participants to sign up with the army, or help older ones to bond better with their family members, the peek into the NS experience was an invaluable one.

Walking away with blisters on my hand and rope burns on my limbs, I gained a newfound appreciation for our servicemen, and even if my brother did not think much of what I did or didn't do, I was happy enough to get some insight into the life and brotherhood he shared with his army mates.