Short Ghost Stories: The Man with the Axe in his Back

The taller one stepped forward. This was First Sergeant Chun, a thin, wiry man whose physique betrayed a tough, marathon-level of fitness. Though he could only be in his mid-forties, his face was already weather-beaten and etched with deep frown lines. His forehead, especially, had the severity of a British boarding school headmaster, and was capable of broadcasting disapproval with nary a twitch of the eyebrows. Instinctively, people stood a little straighter when they saw the ruffling of that corrugated brow.

‘Head count!’ Sergeant Chun barked. He then turned to his second-in-command, a shorter, stockier man with a rounded face and a slight paunchiness who was standing behind. This was Second Sergeant Tak, and though many mistook this shorter man for the friendly, smiling sort, he only appeared so through comparison with his superior.

Tak stepped forward, starting his nightly counting ritual. His voice was low, but it had an almost melodic quality that carried well in the quiet of the night.

‘One, Two, Three, Four…’

Tak and Chun were fixtures at this small SAF training facility. Both men were only in their forties, but their small-scale fame had long spread beyond this camp and reached the main island of Singapore. Conscripts arrived coached by their older brothers or cousins, steeped in the lore of the ‘Old Couple.’ ‘Mild Tak’ and ‘Tough Chun’ were spoken of like different varieties of curry, their differences and similarities regarded with both amusement and reverence.

Both were careerists, conscripts who excelled at their BMT and were thus drafted into the Specialist Cadet School for further training. As Specialists in the SAF, they were responsible for the day-to-day training and running of the camps, along with various other support staff. The two of them took young, undisciplined boys and made them into capable infantry men, and so successful were they at this, that parody Youtube videos were frequently made in their honour.

Not that either of them had any time or interest in ‘U-Tube.’

‘…Forty-Eight, Forty-Nine, Fifty!’

With all fifty conscripts present, Sergeant Chun cleared his voice. This trademark, deep-throated chuckle was a nightly occurrence, and everyone already knew it to be a precursor to his booming notice of dismissal.

‘All right, you are all—‘

Suddenly a voice rang out from the assembled group, somewhere from the third or fourth row.

‘…First Sergeant, sir.’

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