The suspicion resurfaced when Li Hongyi, a 2nd Lieutenant, complained to the Defence Minister and hundreds of military personnel that a colleague had gone absent without leave on two occasions.

The son of Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong also said that supervisors had failed to act against the un-named errant officer even after he had raised the matter, raising speculation that he could be someone highly connected.

“The battalion HQ has effectively given no punishment, and has not even made these infractions known to the rest of the battalion,” said Hongyi.

His email complaint, made on a military website but reproduced elsewhere, earned him a reprimand earlier this month after a summary trial. The officers concerned were disciplined.

The defence ministry said that Hongyi had breached General Orders and acted outside the chain of command “by broadcasting his letter of complaint to many other servicemen”.

“There are proper channels within the Armed Forces to address servicemen’s grievances or concerns,” it added.

The episode lent weight to a belief that he was fast-tracked – like his father – for a leadership role through the armed forces. He leaves soon on a government scholarship to study economics at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

It also spotlights two other issues: firstly, the power of the Lee family and secondly, public suspicion (strongly denied) that scholars or children of elites receive special treatment during national service.

Four years ago, a furore erupted when the government admitted that – until 2000 - the army had been tagging the sons of influential Singaporeans serving national service as “white horses”.

Critics charged it was to enable a smoother and faster track for these elites to rise through the ranks. The government insisted that branding was actually for the opposite: To ensure they get no special privileges.

(The Singapore military has served as a training ground for political leaders and executives in state companies. Hongyi's father, Hsien Loong, was a brigadier-general before entering politics.)

Being a member of the First Family, of course, carries some clout. “No ordinary OCT (officer cadet trainee) would dare to write such a letter addressed to all the big guns in the (defence) ministry,” one chat-room message reads.

The story immediately raised an immediate angry outcry against the “arrogance” and political power of the Lee offspring.

But as the details sank in, this was replaced by admiration for his “courage” and “potential leadership” for speaking out against military “injustices” despite the consequences.

Some even see it, rather exaggeratedly, as an act of rebellion by a young man against the establishment.

What strengthened his case are a few bad apples among elite trainee officers who are known to ride roughshod over lesser mortals. In the army, few dare to complain; most people either suffer or watch in silence.

Aaron Ng wrote: “In a sense, Li Hongyi is able to garner support because he has briefly opened a Pandora’s box and helped many people vent their suppressed frustrations.”

Another blogger commented: “This incident shows our PM son’s depth of character. Unlike other 'kiasu' Singaporeans, Li (Hongyi) speaks up when he sees an injustice!”

A letter-writer questioned whether the officer who went AWOL (absent without leave) was himself a “princeling” – the son of a high-level politician or wealthy businessman.

Chan Hwa Loon said he was troubled by the possibility that the offending officer was “the son of some hotshot who thought he could get away with such a serious matter”.

Another question: “Were the supervising officers so concerned about own their careers” that they failed to act appropriately?

Is the young Hongyi being groomed for a leadership role? No one is certain, but if he is, it will happen in a less predictable future without his powerful grandfather.

His father Hsien Loong says he will be ready to name, in four years’ time, a successor who should be ready to take over by around 2016, less than 10 years from now. By then Hongyi will only be 30, too young for political office.

By his action, Hongyi has shown an independent streak, but it is not known whether he has inherited his grandfather’s tough-knuckle characteristics.

MM Lee once hinted that his grandchildren had a different mindset more representative of the younger generation than himself.

Hongyi, for example, attended an opposition rally with his junior college classmates in the 2006 election, explaining to his father that it was more exciting and less predictable than a government one.

National service affects the life of almost every Singaporean male and his family. Every one speaks its lingo and knows about the latest weapons and new training requirements like the back of his hands.

The tough training has made men out of boys, forging comrades and lasting friendship among all the races.

But the elitist attitudes of some of its scholar-officers have also rendered the experience less tolerable for some servicemen.

On the Hongyi incident one said: “Those who have served NS know of many inconsistent practices in Singapore Armed Forces, not least the one that junior ranks are more readily hauled up for punishment than senior ranks.

“Some of these issues are hushed up at the unit level. I hope this case will prompt the government to stop it.”

o Seah Chiang Nee is a veteran journalist and editor of the information website littlespeck.com

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