Sept 1984 - Bossiespruit

Fokkofommiestalleentreeaanjulleheteenminuutdaagatjy! That was probably the first instruction we got at Bossiespruit. Loosely translated it meant that you had to run from the bungalow (barracks) around the stables where the Shetland ponies were kept, back to the bungalow, and form up. In less than one minute. Please.

By the second day, all the instructor had to do was point. And we’d run. Usually between twenty and thirty times. In the three months I was there, we never ever made it in under a minute. We did it in less than one minute one second, but never under a minute.

Most of the Fokkofommiestalleentreeaanjulleheteenminuutdaagatjy!style of running was done early in the morning, before breakfast, but after inspection. The Corporal of Echo Troop (can’t remember his name, but he wasn’t quite as psychopathic as the one Golf had), would come to the door, one of us would shout “kaserne, kaserne, aandag!”, and we’d all stand to attention while he looked at us balefully. The bungalows were divided into cubicles, with a passage down the middle. I was in the first cubicle, right in front. “Die plek is kak! Tree aan!” That was it. Every morning. He’d walk to the front entrance, tell us it looked like shit – and then we’d shit bricks for the rest of the day. He never made it past the 2nd cubicle. In fact some of the lucky shits in the back didn’t even make their beds in the morning. They knew he wouldn’t get that far…

Bossiespruit was legendary in the Engineering corps was being the worst place to be in the army. You tell people you were at Bossies, and you received real looks of sympathy. Coupled with hysterical laughter… The bungalows were crappy pre-fabricated units, the showers were cold, and it was far away from everything. It pressure was definitely a step up from basics. No walking was allowed. You had to run to the mess (15m away). You ran to the washing line to hang your washing, you ran to the pub in the evenings for your regulatory two beers, you ran to the parade ground, you ran around the fucking ponies….. I still hate running.

Bossiespruit was a training camp just outside of Kroonstad, and in our time they held the JL’s (Junior Leadership) training and selection there. I think we lost five guys in our bungalow the first week we were there. Not that you could volunteer to give up. Anybody that said anything about not wanting to do this anymore got smacked so hard on the doiby they’d see stars. (The doiby is the inside plastic bit of your metal helmet (Korea War era) that you wore while you were doing training. It had to be kept polished. Which was better than the marines in Saldhana – they had to square off their toothpaste tubes.

In amongst all the training was the guard duty, some of which was included the ammunition dump on top of the hill. It was horrible in winter. Two hours on, four hours off. You could not get any sleep. The cold winter wind would cut through everything, and even the World War II era “greatcoats, warm” didn’t help that much.

The photo above is of the bungalows we lived in...