Hi, This is a true short story/essay I wrote a few years ago but never showed anyone else. It relates to my last patrol and what happened on to me on it in Angola during the South African Border War which took place from 1966 to 1989. I was conscripted to the army in 1983 as it was law that a white South African males must serve in the Army for a period of two years. It was either that or 5 years jail, I had a wife a 2 year old child –didn’t really have a choice. So if there are any vets form any war out there maybe they can relate to what I saying For those who don’t know what the war was about please click on the below link for the political reasons. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/South_African_Border_War The real reason was to protect the diamond mines in the Sperrgebiet (the Forbidden zone) in then South West Africa which was owned by Anglo America corp. and Harry Oppenheimer. I have used some South African slang in this story so for those of you not familiar he is a rough translation. Bossies –Been in the bush to long, mad Troopie –grunt, foot soldier, meat puppet Vleis bome-“meat bomb” what we called the parabats/paratroopers Recce-32 Recon battalion-seriously demented dudes Blougat-Second term soldier i.e. done more than 6 months in the army Roofies-New Troops Clicks-kilometre Jiffy bag-Black bag used to put bodies in, standard issue all troops carried them Okes –Guys PB-Plasslikebevolking-local residents Samel –troop carrying truck Terrs-SWAPO terrorists Mag tabs-magnesium block put in a containers (so that no flash/light could be seen) which burned for about 30secs Two stripes –corporal Be kind: D. I sort of removed all the swearing just in case. My Last patrol November 1983. On patrol again, that’s all we ever did is patrol. It’s hot at least 45 in the shade, it’s so humid that feel like you are walking through water, the flies are driving me crazy during the days and the mossies at night .Welcome to my world -Angola. Like I said, on patrol again .There is nothing but bush and the sun but still we walk .I haven’t had a shower in two weeks, no-one had so we could smell each other that was one saving grace .We were Bravo platoon Charlie Company 2nd Battalion SSB (special services battalion) the fancy name for the Panzer/tank division although none of us had ever seen the inside of a tank .We were the infantry for them, patrolling the bush for terrs. We were based in Rundu and were currently about 50km in side Angola in the middle of nowhere .We were due to meet up with 32 battalion about 5km from our current position as part of an offence to try a clean up the Caprivi strip .We walked all day beating dehydration by sucking on small pebbles, just walking, staring into the bush looking for any signs of movement. Just before night we reached the rendezvous point .We dug in then played the game of “let’s guess what’s in the rat packs. This was the usual evening event as none of the tubes or cans were marked , so we just threw everything in a heap and took turns drawing one tube and one tin , sometimes you got a tube toothpaste and canned fish , luck of the draw I guess.Hey you got make your own fun sometimes We cooked with aid of mag tabs, got our guard duty roster and settled down for another night fighting the mozzies. The next morning I was speaking to a few of the recces who showed me a terr that they had caught. He was a youngster maybe 15 or 16, they had tried him to a tree about 100 meters outside the camp and had placed a grenade in his pants to make him talk but either he knew nothing or was to scared to talk .Either way the recces wanted to have some fun .They had tied the grenade's pin to some trip wire and run the wire across a open piece of veldt and tied the other end to a tree. Any animal that walked that way would set it off. So far he had been there 2 days, no food, no water and a rag stuck in his mouth .This was the enemy -a kid tied to a tree and these bastards were taking bets as to how long it would be before something walk through the trip wire, but this was the bush, bush law .These okes were bossies, just like the rest of us. There was nothing I could do, if you reported it you would be targeted .I had a wife a kid at home .I walked away. His face still haunts me .That night something tripped the wire, we heard the explosion and then howls of laughter from the recces.I wonder who won the bet? The next morning we left base camp on our regular patrol , by 7.00 am it was flippen hot .The bush was just a haze in the morning sun. After about an hour we walked into a small village . Maybe 20 pb's there, we swapped rat packs for meat. For some reason they really loved the canned fish they were welcome to it . We did sweep of the area and finding nothing we moved on .1 km out of the village we joined up with some vleisbome on patrol .They had intel about a terr activity about 3 clicks away . We jumped in there samel. I was sitting next to a roof , I forget his name , It was his first patrol . I remember looking down at his hands they were shaking , but so was mine .i was a blougut nearly a year into my national service ,i should have been used to this by now but no matter who many contacts you have had you are still shit scared. I smiled at him to show him he was not alone .Nobody wants to die , there was no shame in being scared .Flip show me one oke who wasn’t scared .None of wanted to go home in a jiffy bag with his dog tags hammered between his front (that is if he still had a head ). We stopped, bailed out of the samel and proceeded to march into the sun. The sun was so low in sky it blinded you. It could see nothing I just focused on the two stripes about 20mts in front. Suddenly he raised his hand .We all stopped instantly. What he saw to this day I cannot tell all I heard was a loud whistling in the air and saw everyone diving for cover. Lying prone in dirt the whistling noise changed to the loudest noise I have ever heard in my life, dirt was flying everywhere and then the most intense pain that I have ever felt in my life. Then nothing. I remember being dragged back to the samel , by who I don’t know. Everything was a blur, the noise was deafening, and my ears were ringing and my left leg felt warm and sticky. Then darkness. I woke up 2 days later in Grootfontien 2 military hospital... I looked down and saw ten toes. Thank F**k I still had both my legs. They had removed a large piece of shrapnel from my left thigh. They had left the shrapnel next to my bed in a plastic bag , why they left it there I have no frikken idea .The bloody things was about 6 inches long and 2 inches wide. A week later I was transferred back to 1 military hospital in Pretoria. They had to operate on the leg again , cause they didn’t get all the pieces out .I stayed in hospital for 3 weeks , then sent on 14 day pass with R500.00 from a grateful nation .F**k they could stick the R500.00 compensation up there ass. I never knew what happened to the rest of the guys on that patrol, I was transferred to 1 signal unit in Pretoria after my 14 day pass. I often wonder if they all made it. The border f**ked all of up. I got divorced 6 months later , don’t blame her .They say you either come back as born again Christian or a alcoholic .Alcohol killed the memories but it also killed two marriages .If I could pinpoint the one event in my life which changed me for ever it was that day in Angola , spilling blood to protect f**ckin diamonds . F**k war, F**k Oppenheimer, F**k the recces, F**k the government.
Very strong, powerful ideas. The story has massive potential, but you have to clean it up, grammatically speaking, if you want to get it published. This piece has a very strong sense of voice about it, I like the realism in it. Keep at it!
Thanks for the positive comments they are greatly appreciated. Like i said this is just my story of really happened to me , i don't think it would be good enough to publish even if fixed the grammer but again thanks for the feedback .:love: Peace be with you
im elated you provided me with the link to the story, thats one of the best articulated events i have ever read, i say that with a hell of alot of respect and a hell of alot of sincerity. i also found the bottle in order to escape, then a failed marriage to go with it, just when i didnt think it could get anyworse i found xanax, i started taking them by order of a physician, soon i learned i liked them and alcohol far to much for my well being. i managed to get rid of the drinking problem and i started taking the medicine like i was supposed to and it helps, but i still stray a little bit when "things just dont make sense". have you ever found a way to make peace with your feelings? if so i sure would like to know the path to look down, i just cant come to terms with it, some days are only "better" than the last one, and none of them are really what i would classify as good. i hope you the best, and im really glad to have heard the truth about Angola, we were fed horse sh!t from the media, in order to justify troop deployment. you should consider taking the transcriptions from that event and letting all know "the real deal" people here have no idea what has and is takeing place to this day in africa, there is information available to read about it, the trafficing in human "sex"slaves, the males believing they can leave the country to go to work and obtain a better life with assistance from others within, and they find themselves on the wrong side of the law of which ever country they land in, or they become mules for cartells that will kill all they have ever known if they dont cooperate, and the list goes on and on. my info is from the media as well, im probably being lied to by the media so my info is probably sounding sugar coated as it was give to us
For it's full relevance and understanding I guess you have to had 'been there' - still, the emotions are strong and the sentiments profound - you cannot beat the truth
