<p>I would appreciate very much if you could kindly read and critique my CommonApp essay on the following question: Recount an incident or time when you experienced failure. How did it affect you, and what lessons did you learn?</p>
<p>One thousand, two thousand, three thousand, DOWN! I chanted in my mind as I scurried towards the enemy and plunged onto the ground for cover. </p>
<p>It was the final battle of my outfield military training. I was determined to give it my all and finish strong. TREEEETREEE! the whistle signaled the end of the exercise. My section cheered and punched our fists into the air in victory - we have overcome the enemy. Intuitively I squeezed my magazine pouches to check that everything was in place. One of the pouches felt more baggy than usual. Alarmed, I opened the pouch and looked into it. My heart sank. One magazine was missing.</p>
<p>My section helped to comb the training ground, and to my relief, a friend of mine found the magazine in a patch of Lalang grass. But alas, I was slapped with a three-week confinement in camp for my disobedience to lawful orders. Disobedience implied that my mistake was deliberate, which was far from the truth. </p>
<p>On the first weekend of my confinement I met a cadet who was punished for the same reason, and he told me this, Im just going to play it safe from now on. It is not worth the risk. Here in the military there are no second chances. The commanders can no longer expect me to give my best. Being in the same plight, I do not deny that such a thought has crossed my mind. However, it would be meaningless for me to participate in the course with such a defeatist attitude. To move on with the training, I had to be convinced that the rationale of the punishment was just. So, I scheduled a meeting with my Wing commander. </p>
<p>His response was illuminating. This may not seem to you like a serious matter, but think about it if you were to lose a magazine in a real operation, you would carry 30 fewer rounds than what is required. It could spell the difference between life and death in combat. </p>
<p>My mistake was not my losing the magazine per se, but rather my failure to understand the purpose of the training and adopt the right mindset to fulfill that purpose. All along I was fixed on completing exercises as fast as I could. The words of my commander reminded me that ultimately I was training to become an operationally ready commander, which required me to treat every exercise like its a real battle. Simply defeating the enemy was insufficient. I needed to maintain acute situational awareness and ensure that no vital equipment that might be of use for the enemy would be left behind in the battlefield.</p>
<p>With a clearer sense of purpose, I continued my training with renewed vigour as I worked towards being a capable commander. I began to notice the little details that are crucial to the success of the task. I found myself enjoying the training more as I started to treat every challenge not as a test of my worth but as a valuable opportunity to learn and improve. So when I was appointed as the second-in-command for an exercise involving 4 arduous days of trench digging, I was apprehensive but excited to take the lead. It turned out to be the toughest but also the most rewarding time in the course. </p>
<p>Our failures are checkpoints for us to evaluate the effectiveness of our methodologies. They compel us to reflect more deeply about our motivations and purpose in undertaking any task. As we become clearer on what we are aiming for, we nudge ourselves back onto the path towards success. Accepting responsibility for our failures is embarrassing and unpleasant but nevertheless necessary for us to take ownership of our endeavours and maximise the value of our experiences.</p>