FINDING STRENGTH IN SOLITUDE
3SG Bai Hong Rui shares his story of returning to Singapore for NS and how he coped with the struggles of beginning an unfamiliar journey on his own.
As a kid, I grew up across three vastly different countries — China, Singapore, and the United States (US) — spending almost equal time in each.
Each move brought its own lessons and challenges, but nothing could have prepared me for the emotional leap of returning alone to Singapore to serve my National Service (NS).
When I landed back in Singapore, it was like stepping into a time capsule — familiar yet distant.
The streets, the food, the language — they all reminded me of a simpler time in primary school. But nostalgia quickly gave way to reality.
I was no longer the child I once was, and Singapore was no longer just home. It had become the place where I would face one of the toughest transitions of my life.
The idea of spending two years in the military, away from the warmth of my family, followed by four more years studying at the National University of Singapore (NUS) after completing NS, felt overwhelming.
My father and mother are both still working in China now, and my younger sister stayed behind to continue her studies.
Despite having moved countries multiple times, nothing compared to this. Because this time, I was truly alone.
The little comforts I once took for granted — my parents’ warm meals, the sound of familiar voices at home, the safety net of being cared for — were suddenly gone.
I was now responsible for everything: waking up, cleaning up, staying strong — mentally, emotionally, and physically.
The start of NS was jarring. I watched my peers on social media living what seemed to be the golden years of their 20s — traveling, dating, studying abroad, partying.
In contrast, I was waking up before sunrise, marching through rain and mud, and falling asleep in bunk beds with strangers-turned-brothers. I felt left behind, forgotten and, at times, invisible.
But it was in these moments of stillness and solitude that something shifted.
Somewhere between the physical fatigue and the quiet nights in camp, I started to feel grounded.
There was a strange comfort in the routine — the discipline of morning PTs (Physical Training sessions), the laughter during outfield training, the quiet solidarity during long route marches.
I began to find joy in the smallest things: A warm cup of Milo after a tiring day. A shared joke with section mates under the starry night sky. The collective relief when we all finally booked out for the weekend.
These moments may seem insignificant but, in camp, they were everything. They made us human again.
I’ve since completed both Basic Military Training and Specialist Cadet School, and I now serve in the Chemical, Biological & Radiological Defence (CBRD) battalion under the Singapore Combat Engineers formation — a posting I deeply appreciate.
It not only gives me purpose, but also aligns with my future aspirations in electrical engineering.
Not many 20-year-olds get to handle the kind of equipment we use, or undergo rigorous training that builds both character and competence. It’s a privilege, and I don’t take it lightly.
NS, for all its challenges, has taught me resilience in its truest form. It has rewired the way I look at life — I now value the simple things, the quiet wins, the inner strength I never knew I had.
It forced me to confront my loneliness, my fears, and my doubts, and to rise above them.
More than that, it has shown me that even in the most regimented, demanding environment, there is space for growth, connection, and even joy.
To those struggling through the same phase, I want to say: I see you. I’ve been there.
But, perhaps, if we are to grow into the people we’re meant to be, we need these moments of struggle. Because it’s in discomfort that we discover who we truly are.
And if we’re not challenged now — when we’re young, adaptable, and full of potential — then when?
NS may have started as a burden I didn’t ask for. But today, I carry it as a badge of honor.
Watch 3SG Bai Hong Rui and his buddies take their final steps around Pasir Laba Camp — the grounds where they were trained and transformed — before their graduation!
