11 November

Death is nothing at all
I have only slipped away into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other
That we are still
Call me by my old familiar name
Speak to me in the easy way you always used
Put no difference into your tone
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed
At the little jokes we always enjoyed together
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was
Let it be spoken without effort
Without the ghost of a shadow in it
Life means all that it ever meant

Dankie Tannies

The Suiderkruisvonds was everywhere. Also known as the dankietannies, they organised pakkies for the boeties on the border, usually stationery so you could write to your mom and your girlfriend (who was probably in the pub getting pissed).

I only once received anything from them. Kroonstad, 1984. Basics. We were treed aan without warning in the middle of the week, told to get clean and dressed in 10 minutes. The dankietannies had organised for Anneli van Rooyen to come and sing for us. Remember Seemeeu? Yes that one.

Oh and we had to pay twenty rand for the privilege. And don't worry, it has been taken off your pay packet. Fuckit I was only earning R4.75 a day.

War Memorials

This is not exactly PW & Sons material, but it does have relevance I think.

I recently had a chance to visit the "lost" British War Memorial south-east of Basra. In a somewhat bizarre act, Saddam moved it from Basra in 1997 and rebuilt it brick by brick in the middle of the desert.

It commemorates over 40,000 British & Indian troops that died in Mesopotamia around Basra in World War 1. One of the inscriptions that caught my eye was "Jemadar Khandikar and 1,277 other Indian soldiers" There are several similar inscription on the walls.

There are no monuments for our war that I'm aware of. Which is sad.

"The soldiers graves are greatest preachers of peace" - Written in a cemetery of German war dead in Kiev

Basics

Staanopsitstaanopsitstaanopfokkofommieboomdagatjulle!

Bushcraft lesson after lunch. The winter sun is warming the back of my neck where we’re sitting in veld. Very peaceful, if it wasn’t for the main highway leading out of Kroonstad right behind us. It's been busy since 3 in the morning, getting ready for inspection, quick opfok (you mustn't look to fucked up for morning parade), PT, the 2,4 and some more push-ups because one of your maatjies was too slow.

And now korporaal is telling us to look for kommuniste from right to left when you lying in the long grass.

Not too long and heads nodding. You’re so tired you fall asleep while you writing your notes. I still have my notebook where the writing becomes illegible and disappears in a scribble off the side of the page.

Jullewillfokkenslaap?! Fokkof ommie bos. Nee! Nie links om nie, regsom, dagatjulle weer! Etters!

Kroonstad

As part of our “training” as CO’s (Candidate Officers) we had to take over the guard duty at the School of Engineers. We would act as the officer on duty, while the real officer on duty went down to the pub for a beer or two. Well at least we didn't have to sit in a cage between two rows of barbed wire any more...

Besides the normal tasks of making sure the guards were properly dressed, sorting out the duty roster and handing out the shrink-wrapped rounds, we aslo had to answer the phone and deal with any emergencies the police of fire brigade might have to deal with.

Just before midnight I get a phone call from a very Afrikaans aunty from the police station. Someone handed in a hand grenade and she wanted to know what to do with it. Jeez, how was I supposed to know what the police did with hand grenades they picked up.

After a couple of question and answer sessions (she I think fell out of the stupid tree when she was small), we finally figured it wasn’t South African so it must be communist (her description, not mine).

Next question (were were on 1st name terms by this time). “Elsa, just a quick check, is the pin still in?” After a brief pause I get a “No man, there’s no pin”……. fuckity fuck.

“OK Elsa, is the handle still on this grenade?” By now she was getting the gist of the conversation. “Jissis, there no handle either. Fokkit, what now man?”..... double fuckity fuck.

“Listen Elsa, you may have a problem. Without the pin or the handle, it means the grenade was armed, but didn’t go off. I don’t know how stable it is, so be careful. Don’t bump it.”

Thunk. I could hear her drop it on the desk at the polisiekantoor. And thunk again as it rolled off the desk on to the floor. And amongst it all very rapid footsteps and lots of screaming…..

We did a follow up phone call in the morning but were told that “it’s all under control…”

A town called Alex - Part 2

Township duty was mostly boring, doing the daily patrol, playing soccer with the kids. Every so often thinks would get ugly, and then it's total confusion and fear for a few hours. Then it's the boredom routine again.

We were on one of our boredom patrols one Wednesday afternoon (which was a bummer because it means we missed sport parade)in the poorer part of Alex, the one with the tin shacks. The guys were talking about rugby, and teasing Dof Stoffel because his girlfriend wanted sex but he came from a farming community and he was worried what his friends would think..

Out of the blue two Ak's went of on full Afrikaans from one of the shacks. Most of the rounds hit the sides of the buffel, no-one was hurt. But there was some chaos and pandemonium. My radioman was screaming into the radio, the troops on the right side were firing back and the ones on the left managed to get off the Buffel onto the ground (for thos who don't know, lying under a Buffel when someone is shooting at you is not a good idea. The v-shape forces all the ricochets down on top of you).

Four troops had managed to get round the back of the shack, but no one was getting anywhere. They obviously had loads of ammo. I was trying to figure out the next move and swearing at myself because I only had my 9 mil with me, when the cavalry arrived in the form of a mellow yellow - one of the police casspirs.

He didn't even slow down, just turned and drove straight over the tin shack. End of story. Now why the fuck didn't I think of that?

What do you do with a drunken sailor?

Bethlehem (not the one with three wise men and a virgin) – November 1985. I was officer on duty for the night when we got a call from the railway police that military personnel on a Pretoria - Durban train were causing havoc. The train was due to stop in Bethlehem (not the one with three wise men and a virgin), and could we send some guys over and help restore order?

I sent the MP’s, and since it was a quiet Friday evening, about 7 of them went. It wasn’t enough. In the end I sent a section of sappers to go and help. There were three navy guys on the train (I never did figure out why the navy has a presence in Pretoria), a Petty Officer and 2 sailors. They had trashed a whole coach, then beat up some of the passengers, set off all the fire extinguishers, and were trying to braai in their compartment when the train stopped at the station.

It was about midnight when we got them into camp, still aggressive as anything, trying to explain something in incoherent drunk to me. We chucked them in the cells to cool off, and decided to leave them till morning.

I stopped by to see them at the end of my duty shift, and one of the now extremely hungover sailors manages to explain that it was his bachelor’s party. And he was supposed to get married at 10 am. And he was 500km away from Durban. He was going to miss the wedding.

At 07:30 an Admiral phones me, wants to know what the fuck was happening. Why the fuck had we arrested his future son in law? I arranged for the now very sad sailor to phone the Admiral, and his girlfriend. As I left the room I saw him wince and heard a shrill screaming from the other side of the phone…

Turns out his name was Gary. I gave him a lift to Durban on Saturday afternoon (the next train was only in 3 days time) in my car. I was going home to see my girlfriend in Mtunzini. He wasn’t sure if his girlfriend was ever going to speak to him again, never mind get married to him….