Archive for April, 2011

Whether one is reading the account of a parabat, chef, tiffy or medic, there is no problem in recognizing the familiar SADF milieu. Despite great developments over the years of vehicles and weaponry, in fighting skills in different theatres of war, the SADF had a remarkably consistent culture throughout the Border War years and before. The language, training, uniforms, punishments, food, accommodation, even the familiar stereotypes of instructors, officers, PTIs, RSMs, etc., changed little with the passing of the years. If one served as an SADF troep, one enters a familiar if not cosy world every time one reads the authentic account of a fellow conscript, even when one is separated by years and one’s particular type of service. With the large number of varied publications now available, reading has become an enriching and rewarding experience. You were an infantry rifleman, for example, with the medic tending to your health and the tiffy fixing your rifle. You saw the bats enter and leave your camp with the SWAPOs they had shot. Their paths crossed yours, but you never really got to know much of what they did or how they lived. Despite the familiar, universal culture of the SADF that you all shared, you saw, as a rule, only your little bit. Today, you can read a book by a bat or an ops medic and see yourself crossing their paths – all within the milieu of the familiar SADF way of life. Only now, more than twenty years after it all ended, are SADF ou manne beginning to be able to see the big picture for themselves. There is always an element of nostalgia involved in recalling the past. Yes, one does re-live the experiences of those days, and feel a certain longing for the good, and even the worthwhile tough times. But for us there is more to it than just nostalgia. Unlike the Ostalgie of former DDR citizens for the good they experienced despite the communist tyranny under which they suffered, SADF soldiers fought in a real war in defence of their country. They were immersed in an intense, all-embracing way of life-and-death. This was, of course, especially true of those who were actual combatants on the Border, or who served in camps that came under enemy fire. But even those who did not come under fire lived in a tense, pressured environment where anything could, and often did, happen. Nowhere was this more evident that when one came home to the “States” for leave, and saw life carrying on as usual, and the ignorance, even disinterest, of those whom one knew from one’s pre-SADF days. You had been through the mill of one of the world’s toughest armies. You had been involved in a real war, tramping, for example, through the bush on patrols for sometimes weeks at a time; exhausted, filthy, hungry, thirsty, under constant tension because of the attack that could materialize at any time, and the fear that your next contact, even if it were your first, could also be your last. You were a world away from them. They seemed not to have changed at all, and were often unable to grasp what you were living through as an everyday reality, outside of those few precious days at home. The SADF affected one in so many other ways. Confronted with such major and fundamental issues, one had to come to quick conclusions about one’s love of and loyalty to South Africa, and how far one was prepared to go in the service of one’s country. It transformed pathetic little mommy’s boy sissies like myself into tough young men. It gave the rebels, troublemakers and social misfits a second chance at life. I know no former SADF-conscript who will categorically deny that the tough regime of the SADF affected him for the better in some significant way. All this and more is very much present in Ops Medic. Steven Webb is a British immigrant who was not liable for conscription. He is interested in things military, and his younger brother’s call-up prods him into volunteering. He has a great many complex motivations, from feeling that he owes this country something for all it had given him, to a desire not to be “left out” and an equally strong aversion to not serving while his younger brother does. He shows all the familiar fears and anxieties, and wonders on more than one occasion whether he has not made a monstrous mistake – all of which feeling I, a G5 who managed get reclassified and stay in the SADF for two years, share intensely with him, as will many others who volunteered. I remember a number of British volunteers from those days. They were without exception sterling fellows, committed, loyal, believing themselves to be doing something good and right by choosing freely to offer themselves for military service. They had none of the prejudices that often plague their South African confrères. For example, at one point Webb says: “I had felt the antagonism between the English and Afrikaners even while at school, but I had always managed to get on well enough with these guys [the Afrikaners], probably because my Afrikaans-language capabilities were fairly well below average. Come to think of it, they still are. But at least I tried to talk to them in their own language, and I was always amazed that they never once laughed at me for trying…[on] the other hand the English always laughed at the Afrikaners when they attempted conversational English. If some of those souties had taken the trouble to listen to themselves, they wouldn’t have bothered trying to speak Afrikaans [did they actually bother? – reviewer], because it was usually far worse than any of the Afrikaners’ English”. This, I must confess, closely resembles my own experience in Ladysmith as an Italian in a bungalow where you could have cut the hostility of the Durban English-speakers with a machete – and in which situation I made a conscious decision to become an Afrikaans-speaker. Webb describes his experiences well, and gives a fairly detailed account not only of how one was trained as an Ops medic, but what it was like to serve as one during more than a year at the Border, mostly in Sector 1Ø, where he was based at Etale. He tells his tale with great candidness, especially about his own feelings and reactions. He is eager to go on patrols to escape the boredom of camp life, but he is not afraid to express his apprehensions and fears. He has a good quota of funny stories. He is no self-trumpeting war-hero, but reflects an endearing modesty and humility. Early in the book he paints a picture of himself as a directionless wastrel on his way to achieving nothing, and expresses hope that the army will change him. At the very end he says, “I fully appreciate that my experiences might sound tame in comparison to those of men who were caught up in the full force of the war, but I am still proud to have been a member of an elite service as an Ops medic.” But he was courageous, not the least in being so honest about his real feelings, and in his reluctance to moralise when facing difficult and ambiguous situations. And his story is far from tame. There are one or two curious expressions and words, most of which can be accounted for by his self-confessed difficulty with Afrikaans, which was the basis of so much SADF terminology and slang. He refers to COIN (counter-insurgency) as Tuin rather than TEIN (teen-insurgensie). And I cannot ever recall addressing the RSM as “RSM”, but rather “sar’major!” or “sammajoor!” His editor should surely have corrected “plaaslike bevolk” to “plaaslike bevolking”. But I mention these things not to nitpick; the majority of his Afrikaans usage is spot on, and for one who claims not to have spoken it well, he has taken a lot of trouble to write it correctly. As an Afrikaans-speaker myself today, I appreciate and welcome the trouble he has taken to get it all right, and he will certainly not be laughed at by me! Just one last point. Do not be misled, as I was, by the absurd blurb on the back cover, which, to my regret, put me off purchasing the book for so long: “In truth white National Service units achieved little success in the border war against an underrated enemy…We took a boy who had just matriculated, gave him two or three months of basic training — and threw him into the middle of a country that he didn’t know, people he didn’t understand and an enemy he had never seen. No wonder he didn’t do very well.” And so on. There is none of this drivel in the book, nor is it true in fact. SADF conscripts were better trained then the author of this comment would have us believe, and for the greater part did remarkably well. Very few combatants underrated SWAPO as an enemy, as more than one account makes clear. Don’t be fooled by the jacket. Buy the book and read it. You won’t be disappointed. Thanks, Steven.

This is as a matter of interest as I was involved in air photography interpretation in the SAAF during 1979 - 1982 and saw the photography of the 400 + hull-down positions at Cahama . Posted By matikiti on 4/21/2011 5:52:30 AM I have read in Wegry! magazine about a bunker network near Cahama where it was reported that 120 Cubans died during an operation mis 1980's . Can this be varified ?

I'm astounded that so many people still get worked up by this. Who 'won' at Cuito Cuanavale? The answer is nobody. Is 'victory' really judged by comparing the butcher's bill? And cherry picked and massaged data at that. Why is UNITA's casualty list never included in the comparison? Didn't they take part or was their sacrifice not worth recording? History should be an agreed, single, but collectively understood narrative. In reality, it is a morass of infinite personal interpretations of subjective and cherry picked data. I would argue that there never was a 'Battle for Cuito Cuanavale' and thus the claim to have 'won' it should be met with a simple: "How can you win something that didn't occur? Discuss." The 'reality' is that the 3 'Battles for Tumpo' were the end game in a series of tactical skirmishes within a larger operational and strategic context. FAPLA's objective of taking Mavinga and marching on Jamba failed. How many years subsequently did it take to remove Savimbi from the scene and at what cost? Success or failure? The Cubans and Soviets were looking for a quick exit from Angola with their heads held high. Their perception of success in halting the SADF advance at Tumpo was part of their (revised) operational-strategic plan. Although UNITA was not dead, in a relative short period, the SADF was back behind the Limpopo! Success or failure? PLAN/SWAPO wanted to rule SWA/Namibia. Success or failure? ANC/MK wanted to rule RSA. Success or failure? The NP wanted to maintain their stranglehold on the governance of RSA and SWA and keep PLAN/ANC down and out. Success or failure? The Wehrmacht 'won' more tactical victories than I've had braai. What good did that do them?

I was a member of Pierre Digues platoon in 83/84. I hit a landmine on my first day in Angola and Pierre got the news that I had been killed. I saw him again about a week later and he really let me have it for "getting myself killed" without his permission. Myself and Prof Venter have been to all the families of the memebers of our platoon that were killed in action (including Pierre's mom and dad) and presented them with a dvd that we had made commemarating our platoon. It was just an awesome experiance spending time with all these families and also being able to visit the garves of our colleagues. We will always be "Brothers In Arms" Paul Stone

Johan, thanks for the reply. I was just asking and I think that not many people saw it the same way I saw it, so no problem. Hopefully someone else might see your reply and offer the funding.

Johan, just a general question. Please feel free to remove this if you feel it is at the wrong place. Question: what date/time are you using as I typed my reply to pfv on another part at 01H50 on 10 April and the reply date/time shown in the forum said "Posted:4/9/2011 4:49:35 PM".

Hi pfv, no our Lieuty was a PTI guy, bloody fit, so that made our "afkak" so much more "fun" for the Cpl as we really struggled to keep up with the Lt. We actually did a lot of full kit PT. I hated those staaldakke, the damn things tend to slip down over your eyes and then you bought big farms. And they were quite a strain on your neck muscles on the runs. The other platoons used to laugh at us because they did it in the normal PT dress, while we were wearing the overhalls, boots and kits. And those R1's tore your arms off after a while. But we had a 4SAI competition at the end of basics and then we were the ones that laughed because the 2.4 had to be done in full kit under a certain time and we greased through that.

Last year there was an instructive incident at the school where I teach. The boys’ First Soccer XI had gone on tour. Amongst them was a tall Grade 8 boy who was representing the school for the first time. When he arrived home, his Grade 11 sister by chance noticed red spots on his posterior. Further investigation revealed an initiation ritual which had been going on for years without anyone in authority knowing: that when a fellow went on tour for the first time, he was initiated by receiving a whack on the behind with a soccer boot from each of the other team members. While the boy concerned obviously did not enjoy the ritual itself, he simply accepted it as part of the whole process of becoming a First XI member. But his sister was outraged, and attacked the whole affair publicly. Officially the practice has been stopped, though no doubt it will carry on regardless. But it is the responses of the two that are instructive. She was horrified that her brother had been “brutalised”. He wasn’t fazed by the ritual, but was mortified because for a while the other boys thought that it was he who had squealed. Who was right? In a sense, both of them were. This difference in response exemplifies for me the difference between Blake’s and Thompson’s books. They have adopted a similar approach to conscription in the SADF, and a similar presentation: soldiers either not identified, or identified only by first name and call-up age, contributions organised by theme, generally following a chronological pattern roughly corresponding to the course of National Service. Indeed, Blake acknowledges the influence of Thompson in his introduction. Strikingly different is the perspective of each author. Thompson has a very definite political stance, which she makes clear in her introduction. Since I read her book in Afrikaans, I translate freely: “Today it is not socially acceptable for [ex-SADF conscripts] to speak about their experiences. But even if one wishes to condemn the politics of the time, one does no wish to do likewise with the soldiers.” And she sticks very much to her programme. Some ex-soldiers’ names have been given in full in the introduction, others are referred to by their first names only, yet others have chosen to remain anonymous. But her account is strongly empathetic towards the experiences of SADF conscripts during the era of the Bush War. She divides her book very thoroughly into categories with titles which reflect both the reality and the argot of the SADF, sometimes with disarming bluntness: Soutpiele en Dutchmen; G1K1, G4-opgefok; Afkak, opfok, rondfok, vasbyt; Ballasbak; O my fok; and so on. Some of the stories she recounts are very funny, like that of Paul, who at 17 was too young to have a pellet-gun licensed in his name. When he refuses to accept his rifle in the army on the same grounds, he is smacked over the ear and told: “Troep, vat die fokken geweer!” How authentic that sounds to the ears of any ex-SADF soldier! On the other hand, there are some very hard stories told, like those in the later chapters of the book, or that of Alan, a Jehovah’s Witness, though even he has his funny story. Thomson has taken trouble to include a great variety of different military experiences. Reading Cameron Blake’s book, I am on more familiar ground. Being male, and having been through the SADF, he is less reflective and more generally accepting of the SADF milieu. As a soldier one tended to get angry, then very quickly to laugh about the same incident. Laughter was a way of coping with some quite appalling situations. Men, especially en masse, prefer not to expose their weaknesses to each other, and hate admitting defeat. The SADF used this to keep us all on the go. It really was from that point-of-view, a man’s world. Blake presents an overall impression of the SADF as most of us would have experienced it. His categories are simpler, but reflect the familiar stages of SADF service. Thompson presents a deeper and, from a variety of points of view, more comprehensive account of the SADF, but I identify less with the overall impression she creates. This is without doubt due to the fact that she did not experience the SADF at first hand as a soldier, and to her feminine empathy. My old mum has a theory that men have only four emotions: mad, sad, bad and glad. Placing the two books side-by-side makes her theory look good! I would highly recommend both books, and I would recommend that they are read together. Each author, after their own fashion, has done an excellent task of opening up the forgotten world and the suppressed experiences of those years. The generals have written their strategic accounts of the war. But Blake and Thompson have given us the experiences of ordinary conscripts, “ground zero” so to speak. This was the SADF for the huge majority of South African soldiers. I think that Thompson has had the tougher job, and her book is a triumph. She began from scratch, and has organised it according to the well worked-out scheme of an intensely empathetic observer. She has presented an account from which I learned much that I didn’t know or realise. The strength of Thompson’s book lies in the well-chosen, individual stories she recounts, and of Blake’s in the overall impression, the way he has recreated a lost world for those of us who once experienced it with such intensity. Of the two, it is Blake who has most authentically captured the atmosphere – but that is without doubt because he experienced it from the inside. In a nutshell, Thompson answers the question “What was it like for me as an SADF conscript?” But Blake has answered the question, “What was it like for us as SADF conscripts?” I think that both questions need to be answered. I was moved by Thompson’s book. I am sure I join many others who acknowledge and appreciate her empathy and understanding for the soldiers of those long-forgotten days, of whom I was one, at a time when it was not popular to do so. And despite the seriousness of many of the stories, I laughed my head off at so much in Blake’s, and my prime reaction was: Thank God I wasn’t the only poephol in the SADF! END.