Basket.

I think I am now far away enough from that moment of horror to record down the events of last Thursday for posterity. Plus, I have regained the ability to type with two hands! And it's not like I have anything better to do anyway.

It was a Thursday morning like most others recently - overcast. It was drizzling when we got up, but that stopped fairly quickly. We went for breakfast and returned at close to 7; nothing unusual. At 7.15 we assembled outside our bunks to go for live run; by this time, the rain had stopped and the sky had cleared somewhat. Having recovered from the flu and returned to camp only the day before, I was excused and returned to bunk to sleep off the lingering after-effects of medicine and illness.

I slept a long while, until about 8.40am, when one of the vehicle mechanics we are well-acquainted with woke me and asked me to help hook up a system for NDP rehearsal. Again, nothing out of the ordinary - our procedures are this ad hoc. Anyone who happens to be free is pulled along to help, and hooking up is as mundane an event as they get in my unit. I got up and was changing into No4 when he told me to wear admin, as the discussion on racial harmony that was to take place soon after would be in that attire. I changed back and went down, on the way dropping my MC off at the office.

Before I left, I took a drink of water, and noticed the time on my bedside clock was about 8.52am.

I quickly got to the garage, and saw that the two new radar mechanics and my VM friend were already there. The ANT TPQ 36 Weapon Locating Radar Antenna Trailer Group has four support legs, which are put down when the system is deployed or stationary. In the garage, they are usually down. To hook up, we put up the legs and push the trailer towards the shelter, which is a 3-ton vehicle, then we connect the two vehicles. I quickly took one leg and began winding it up. Following standard procedure, I kicked off the pad once it was high enough, then supported the leg with my left hand while I pulled out the restraining pin, in order to push the leg all the way up to keep it. The restraining pin proved obdurate, however, and I shifted my position (I was squatting) to better pull it out. It was at this point that my left middle finger came fatally to rest on on the bottom of the leg. I did not think it a problem, because the leg usually comes down fairly slowly even after we pull the restraining pin, and I would have enough time to move my palm in to support and push the leg up - as I had done many more times than once before.

And so the pin finally came... but the leg came down with amazing speed. Before I could react, it had got my finger and crushed it on the pad. In a reflex action, I pulled my hand out of the whole mess, and this action probably lost me my fingertip. Strangely, there was not much pain; I only felt a very great pressure on my finger. But my body obviously sensed something wrong and made me wrench my hand out.

I held it up, and from what I saw, something was very wrong indeed. The tip of my finger was literally gone, and most of the rest of the topmost joint was mincemeat. A flap of skin remained, but most had been torn away. In my confused state, I thought the exposed finger bone was my fingernail.

Of course, the rest of those down had witnessed the whole thing, and were frantically rushing about and making calls even as I stared at my mangled finger. I think I had on an expression of absolute bewilderment. This is not happening. It's a dream, right? I'm just going to wake up any moment. No, seriously.

But it was all real, of course.

I remember feeling faint and dizzy, probably from shock, but recovered quickly. The wound wasn't hurting much, numbed by shock I believe. By this time some fellow locators had arrived, and I remember someone said "Fucking hell" when he saw the extent of my injury. One of the new RMs accompanied me as I walked to the medical centre. I remember musing to him on the way about how I was going to use the finger ever again.

Our battery duty officer caught up with us on the way, and was stunned when he saw how bad it was. He thought the bone was crushed - fortunately he proved to be wrong.

I walked into the medical centre and all it took was one look at the red mess that was my finger for them to go into action stations. I was probably the calmest person there. The MO, obviously, asked what happened, and I told him in my normal voice that the radar had crushed my finger. They washed the wound with saline solution, a goodly amount of it, then improvised a gauze dressing before packing me off to the Tan Tock Seng Hospital Accident and Emergency Department. I got there in the big, brand new army ambulances they just launched this year.

My adventures in the hospital are a whole other story. To be continued.