When I received my call-up papers I actually did not think about the reasons or why we were called up for national service, I thought its part and parcel of growing up and everybody you knew has done it, so I had better do it as well.
I received my call up papers in August 1986 for call-up for 87/88 intake, I dont think I will ever forget my army number as this was drummed into parrot fashion you the whole of your basic training.
Anyway my time came and in January 1987 which was my intake I left for Bethlehem in the sunny but cold Orange Free State.
I don’t think anyone was fully prepared to start their military service and the training, especially the mental and physical challenges. I do remember the first few nights were pretty disturbing as we had a few losses and one attempted suicide, there was also some that cried at night to go home. This did not help with ones moral.....
The concept of purchasing a long chain with several pad locks (specially marketed by Viro) to lock your washing to the clothes line, really got me thinking. As far as fitness goes, was I prepared - NO. I still get the shakes thinking about it, its not that I was unfit, I played Rugby during High School and for my HighSchool's Old Boys team, this was different.......
2 Field Engineers Regiment was going to be home for a while at least a year.
The first taste of someone with stripes on his sleeve shouting and calling you names made me uneasy and more nervous. Saying goodbye to the folks and to my mates and the girlfriend was hard. No more "sleg civvie" (comfortable civilian). The transformation had begun from boy to a man.
I can’t remember much about the train ride up to Bethlehem from Durban due to serious alcohol abuse, but I do remember our arrival. WOW! - About 4am, a serious hangover (still pissed) and we were lined up and indoctrinated and fed the most awful coffee I have ever tasted.
"You are now government property and we can do whatever we want with our property to achieve what we want! Do you hear me?" JA COPORAAL!!
Haircuts and medical were first on the agenda. Its amazing how the same haircut (shave) makes everybody look the same. I think that’s the idea. The medical went quick – there were a lot of bodies to process. I actually felt proud when they presented me with an ID card displaying G1 K1. Other guys got G2 K3 or G3 K2 etc. etc. Never really knew what that all stood for. G1 K1 as I later found out, meant license to "af kak" (suffer). The most worrying part was filling in a will - Oh shit!!!!
Kit issue was quite exciting. It felt like becoming part of something. I was average size so I had no problems fitting into stuff, but boy did the tall and the very short or fat guys have a hard time!
The Motto for every day. "Don’t walk - Run! Hurry up and wait and run some more....
2 Field regiment was the main base in Bethlehem. I did basics in 21Field also in the main base and others were allocated to the outside camps 22 and 26 Field Squadrons respectively. My new home was 21 Field, and off we went to start Basic Training. My first impression of the so called bungalows (barracks) was that they were going to be cold. It was confirmed in winter. Bethlehem is known to be the coldest place in South Africa in winter. Just my luck!
Charlie platoon was going to be my family from now on. The most interesting thing at that stage was to find out how a mix of so many different types of people would cope as a unit. And by golly it did.
The biggest barrier being language. English – Afrikaans. But that disappeared soon.
A few items of interest were as follows.
Blisters. "Go see the medic". The quick and most effective treatment was to suck out the water with a syringe and needle and pump in some mercurochrome. It burned like hell, but it dried it out instantly.
Inspection. A new meaning to square. Everything had to be square. Socks , balsak (duffel bag) and bed edges etc. With a bit of starch, one could work wonders.
Bed rowing sessions. If your bed was not flat enough and had a bit of a hollow section to it, you were then requested to sit on the bed and start rowing with your rifle. While rowing your corporal would empty out a fire bucket of water over you and the bed or have you leopard crawl through mud and then make you row in your bed. What a mess. I found that to be the most hilarious thing that happened in basics. You just could not keep a straight face when that happened to some one and subsequently everybody who did laugh, got the same treatment. I recall on one inspection the whole platoon jumped on their beds and started rowing as the corporals walked in -classic!
Food. Lots of variations of the same thing I guess. My personal favourite (not); "pilchards in tomato sauce" served cold with scrambled rubber eggs and oh, the coffee? At 3.30 am. Enough said.
Midnight "training sessions". Commonly known as ‘op vok’ sessions in the middle of the night involving a considerable amount of PT with full kit and loads of drinking of water and then rolling in your own vomit - lovely. This was designed to build comradeship or teamwork by breaking you down mentally and physically. I suppose everybody knows about fetching leaves off the constantly wrong tree? Well we had a ‘pole painted like a cigarette’ and was called LIFE like the smokes. Run to it, around and back, altogether in a certain time, until you made that time.
Getting married to Betsy, what a proud day it was. She was this oil soaked R4 rifle. ‘This is your wife now, mine was bettsy, you will eat, sleep and do everything with her. And keep her clean at all times.’ The R4 sure shoots beautifully. I always enjoyed going shooting and just to brag a little, I was the first one in our platoon to receive ‘skiet balkie’ (shooting medal).
2.4 Fitness test everyday, a 2.4 km run with full kit or as a team carrying poles. That training paid off big time in the months to come. The 1st Beer, I think we were allowed 3 beers after 6 weeks. It was amazing to see so called ‘seasoned drinkers’ as ourselves slurring our words after one or two beers.
Church on Sunday. Now that was an occasion. We got to dress up with all our badges etc. and strut into town. It was great just being able to sit still for ¾ hour. Most of us fell asleep. After church was time to indulge in civilian food and at the local ‘take away’ a vetkoek Dagwood was the best on the menu.
2ND Phase Training, Now was time to train seriously and become a sapper. There was water purification, bridge building, demolitions, mine detection and bunker clearing to be learned. Always keeping in mind that we will be using this stuff on the border, kept us on our toes. This was all taught with utmost professionalism and the various instructors we encountered with their own field of expertise, was really amazing.
Now with the coloured ‘balkie’ under the engineer’s insignia on our beret, we called ourselves trained field sappers. What a feeling, we had made it – all in one piece.
Mine detection
That meant we were ready for the border and that was scary. We did not know what to expect and heard all these stories. You could imagine how we felt.
Waiting on the tarmac at Bloemfontein Air Force base for our C130 Hercules (Flossie) was sure exciting. An uneventful flight brought us to Oshakati. The most noticeable was the climate change. The heat hit you like a brick wall. After 10 days orientation and training, we were shipped out to the outside camps to represent the SAEC and support various infantry units. The 2 units we did support were a commando unit from Cape Town and the Parabats. The time we spent with the bats was a chapter one could write a book about. Very interesting indeed.
Demolition training
The main tasks at Okankolo were to supply the camp with drinkable water which was pumped from a nearby shona (that’s a depression in the ground that fills up with rain water in the rainy season). To stand guard and do a daily 30 km mine sweep enroute to Ondangwa. The other ‘kak’ job was to build and maintain the French drains.
The camp was ‘revved’ (attacked) once with small calibre mortar and Grad-1p's. No injuries and little damage to the camp, but you should of seen the counter attack, it was overwhelming. Whatever we had, we fired towards the unseen enemy in the bush. This included mounted mags and 80 mm mortars. There was a big enquiry about it.
One day the buffel convoy was ambushed on the return sweep. Some Swapo dude shot a RPG into one buffel at close range (See Pics in the Blog) injuring one of our Sappers. Christmas was the time one really missed family and friends, but we made the best of it and opened our ‘dankie tanie’ packets and made up for it with some serious drinking. So after a few months we enjoyed a long mid year pass back home and got ready for the 2nd tour of duty.
With 2 to 3 week long excursions into the bush and cross border operations, including Op Hooper, we saw and experienced the war from a different perspective, first hand in many situations. It was a real eye opener. A couple of good stories to be told, but we will keep those for another time and reminisce around a braai now and again.
As time went on, we started getting that ‘min dae’ attitude. I think one gets a bit slack, which is not a good idea – but civvy life was calling. We departed back the same way we came. Did we make a difference? Has anything changed? Those questions we could only answer years later.
Passing out parade felt great for most, I was in the MP's l.ocked up for being caught going to my girl friend in town, I thought I was screwed as the Commandant wanted to give me 60 extra days. What an experience – what a great day when I was eventually let off with a stern warning.
It was weird being a civvy again. I did not know what to do. There was no routine. There was no shouting.
The hardest transition for me back to civilian life was when I went back to Customs and Excise. Here was I, the ‘grensvegter’ being told what to do. That was a bit harsh on the system, but I got over it and managed with a good attitude.
Conscription was abolished. I felt relieved and happy to end that chapter in my life. I am glad I did it and came out still in one piece. It made me stronger and more resilient, it armed me with something to cope with. And yet I am still to see the sense in what we did. Who won the war? The commies are still around, Angola is still in shambles. The ANC are "ruling" the country, the whites are now the oppressed and SAM is president of Namibia. Go figure.
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