Share a bed.

" So your bunk got enough bed or not ? "
" Ya, but need to share. "
Interjected in a nanosecond, " WAH LAO EH, you want Poh to have a bed, yourself a bed, you all want to have a bed, then you want to expand the bunk ah ? So hard to share MEH? ".

There grew this swell feeling.
It felt like a mini Jihad.
I understood how Jihads came about - conflict of ideologies like this.

But honestly, I irked at the idea of strangers (encompassing NS men) wearing camouflaged uniforms with a high probability of sweating, having their transient rest on my bed. Particularly, the bed sheet.
Unlike the hotel guests, I sleep in shirt and shorts with much more exposure to the mix of sweat and body smell lastingly embedded in the predictable clammy bedsheet, adding more discomfort. At the head region, chances are the superb mix of cigarette and oily hair smell.
He should try letting his platoon sleep on his bed one by one, hour by hour.
It ain't field camp man.