NINE FOXTROT NEWS 1 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01

NINE FOXTROT NEWS: NUMBER: 03 / 01

ROWLEY MEDLIN Mobile: (27) 82 415 7117 Addresses : Residential : House No 45 Riverside Manor Retirement Village. Sunninghill. Postal: PO Box 10028 Centurion 0046 MARCH 3 rd 2011 Mailto: [email protected] WEBSITE: http:// www.ninefoxtrot.org or alternatively:www.MilPol.co.ca PLEASE NOTE: That the opinions expressed in this newsletter are not necessary the opinion of the originator of the Nine Foxtrot Newsletter. Names of the persons submitting the article(s) are shown. COPYRIGHT & FAIR USE NOTICE: This website may contain copyrighted material the use of which has not been preauthorized by the copyright owner. Such material is made available for the enjoyment and information of military veterans worldwide. If you want to use any copyrighted material that may exist on this site for purposes that go beyond 'fair use', you must obtain permission from the copyright owner through the originator of Nine Foxtrot News. The primary objective of the newsletter is to maintain the true comradeship of men and women who have served within an armed force and other individuals that have an interest in the veteran soldier. This newsletter, although originating from the Republic of is not in any way an official mouthpiece of the South African National Defence Force. It is the voice of the military veteran soldiers and his or her friends. The secondary objective is to promote interaction between soldiers and friends of soldiers from different countries, arms of service and regiments/units.

PLEASE NOTE: NEW NINE FOXTROT NEWSLETTER’S BANK DETAILS: NAME: ROWLEY MEDILN BANK: ABSA BRANCH: WEIRDA PARK. ACCOUNT NUMBER: 916 87299 65. A VERY BIG THANK YOU, TO THOSE THAT HAVE, AND STILL ARE, SPONSORING NINE FOXTROT NEWS. I truly value, especially in the current times, your contributions. All contributions are used to improve the product and or distribution of Nine Foxtrot News. Your contributions really help.

FROM ROWLEYS KEYBORD:

Today is going to be a very special day for me, in fact, the whole week will be exceptionally special. You know I have waited my whole life for this day, this week to arrive. I am going to make the best of the day week. During my search and requests for info on Ops Firewood, someone got the cat by the tail and sent out a request for info on “Fire Force.” No problem but through this mis-intention NINE FOXTROT NEWS 2 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01

Bart Henderson sent me a very realistic account of one of his Fire Force patrols. Those of you that know Bart, will realise that I had to substitute a few letters and in some cases a few phrases. Never the less, After one of our American readers mentioned that he so enjoyed listening to our South African Vets talking in Afghanistan, I decided, with Bart’s permission to publish his account of this mission. Please chaps consider sending me more accounts of your experiences and photos. Last week I said that Patch Oosthuizen received Gold medal number two and that I did not know if there were any silver medals. I have just received the correct info. (See below.) “A SOLDIER DIED TODAY, Just a common soldier, but a true Gentleman soldier Officer.” I have just return from the “Send Off’ of Our “Uncle in the Furniture Business,” Colonel Thijs Eagar. I say “Send Off” because that was what Thijs had, a very fitting service indeed. With the choir (all primary school children,) that Barbara (and Thijs,) coach singing and placing a hand in as many elderly couples as they could. What a gesture? Daar het baie tannies gehuil and a number of miggies flew into the eyes of the men. I would guess a good 350/400 people paid complements to that very fine gentleman. Barbara, (“The Rose amongst the Thorns,”) was assisted by her three sons and their families. It will take some doing to get any person to be able to stand in Thijs’ shoes. The veteran community is in morning today for a soldier died today. Go well Old Soldier. Listening to SABC 7PM News on Friday evening, I saw and listened to the lambasting the Ministress of Defence, Ministry of Defence and SANDF Command Structure from the Interim Defence Committee concerning for the situation/conditions in the SANDF and concerning OUR soldiers. I don’t want to be the one to say “SIE DA” but did I, Rowley Medlin, not warn anyone interested as to what I, as a sergeant major, observed some six/eight months ago. How silent are those Reserve Force Officers who amongst others questioned “Who the hell is this Medlin?” “Who gives him the right to inspect military establishment?” “ Does this Medlin not realised that he is no longer part of the Force and as such mus shut-up?” Well Gentlemen, Officers try blaming the Interim Defence Commission for criticising “your” SANDF. In the same line, I had to visit a Reserve Force Regiment this week (PS: I did not hold any “inspection,”) I was pleasantly surprised to see how well kept the gardens were. No names, no Pack drill otherwise I will be blamed for “inspecting” the unit without permission. But well done to that Unit Commander.

RRRowley 9F9F9F NINE FOXTROT NEWS 3 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01

OPERATION SAVANNAH: The Committee of the Savannah Veterans Association is urgently trying to make contact with all members of the SADF who were involved with Operation Savannah Oct 1975 to March 1976 so as to update the records and to verify that addresses and contact numbers are still in use. Please, all soldiers, make contact with Neels Halgryn at [email protected] or myself at the above contact address. I will pass your mails on. This is an URGENT appeal.

MAIL FROM ROWLEY’S INBOX :

FROM MANUEL FERREIRA: Vlieënier word eerste swart bevelvoerder van 2 Eskader Gerhard Pretorius ’n Swart vlieënier het gister vir die eerste keer in die geskiedenis van die Suid-Afrikaanse Lugmag die leisels as bevelvoerder van 2 Eskader oorgeneem. Dié eskader vlieg Gripen-veg- en Hawk- vegopleidingsvliegtuie. Lt.kol. Musa (Midnite) Mbhokota (36) is in 2007 by die Makhado-lugmagbasis buite Louis Trichardt in Limpopo by 2 Eskader as ’n vlieginstrukteur in Hawks geplaas. Ná die aanskaffing van die eerste Gripens was Mbhokota een van die eerste ses vlieëniers wat gekies is om in Swede opleiding in dié vliegtuie te ondergaan. Sedertdien is hy aangewys as onder meer ’n vlieginstrukteur in die Gripens. Mbhokota het reeds 2 300 vlieguur in agt verskillende militêre vliegtuie agter die rug, waarvan 1 800 in vegvliegtuie was. Hy was een van vier offisiere aan wie die bevel van ’n lugmageenheid of eskader gister op die Makhado-basis oorhandig is. Kol. Silumko Vaaiboom, lt.kol Kevin Ogden en lt.kol Iris Joan Owen het ook gister die bevel oorgeneem van onderskeidelik 5 Lugdienseenheid, 85 Gevegvliegskool en 515 Eskader, wat almal by die Makhado-basis gestasioneer is. 85 Gevegvliegskool lei hoofsaaklik bemanning vir Gripens en Hawks op. 3 Lugversieningseenheid en 515 Eskader is onderskeidelik verantwoordelik vir tegniese bystand en beskermingsdienste. Oor hoe hy daaroor voel dat sy nuwe pos beteken dat hy minder gaan vlieg, het Mbhokota met ’n laggie gesê dat dié “net die begin” vir hom is en dat hy nog baie jare se vlieg voor hom het. Dié pos is vir hom ’n baie groot eer, maar dit gaan vir hom oor sy eskader en die samewerking om ’n doelwit te bereik. “Ons het seker die beste lug- en grondbemanning in die land en dit gaan oor die mans en vroue wat saam met my werk. “Ek sien myself nie as die leier nie, maar eerder as iemand wat die fakkel dra en ek sal die fakkel wil dra sodat ek die eskader in ’n beter toestand afgee as wat ek dit ontvang het. Dit gaan alles oor verbetering. “My mandaat is om voort te gaan met die operasionele toetsing en evaluasie van die Gripen, maar ek sal hom graag veggereed wil sien. “Ons benodig soms meer NINE FOXTROT NEWS 4 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01 finansiering, maar ons maak die beste met wat ons het,” het Mbhokota gesê. http://www.beeld.com/Suid-Afrika/Nuu...i-nou-20110225

FROM DEAN HUTSON: (USA) Rowley - as always a great job and excellent read. Wanted to let you know my experience with reaching some Kiwi friends as I see you also had problems with bouncing e-mails. E-mail contacts are still fairly sporadic as the power grid there is pretty dicey still - what connections there are, are often in/out throughout the day and night. I e-mailed the Consulate and provided names of friends that I had not been able to contact and through their 'warden system' they - after a couple of days- had made contact with them and then let me know all was OK. Although many are safe their houses are uninhabitable (doors seized up, pipes broken etc...) and so they are living elsewhere right now - often out in the surrounding towns away from Christchurch. Keep up the fine work Rowley, fascinating history you men of the SA Forces have! Some of my best memories are sitting around the fire at a camp out in the middle of Afghanistan with some of your veterans talking about life, the Army, women and all of the other important things.....;) Take care, my friend. Dean Hutson LTC Commanding, 5150th Special Marksmanship Unit. In Afrikaans we say “Skiet hom in die hol kol.” “Shoot him in the butt colonel”

FROM DICK OLSEN: Hi Rowley, I would like to start by complimenting the Regiment on the parade. I have been associated with JR for many years and have seen the ups and downs of change and they always come up fighting. I would like to congratulate WO1 Jan Oosthuizen and his team. Together with a number of other “Old salts” I was invited to participate in the medal award from the City of Johannesburg. This award was for assisting with and participating in the annual Remembrance Sunday (Armistice Day). There are three categories of medal, Gold & Silver for those who assisted with the organization over the last few years and the bronze for the members who attended the parade on 2010. Not knowing what to expect I arrived early (as WO’s tend to do) and had the pleasure of getting that feeling of things happening and the clock ticking with so many bits and pieces still to come together. Of course it always does if the weather is kind to you, and JR couldn’t have wished for better. I made the rounds greeting past and serving members and it really made me quite nostalgic. It was good to see you there and meet you again. I would again like to thank you for all the hard work you put into the newsletters and your dedication to the Warrants of this world. As things settled down and people took their seats I took a look at the crowd and could not help but notice that the majority (no pun intended) were Warrant Officers’ (Rtd). It really made me proud to be one of them. After the formal parade we veterans were called on to form up and in traditional way with a certain amount of “Parade License” we marched on led by the Medics Band. Thankfully the Drum Major took the hint about the pace for us. Madam Speaker said a lot of pleasant things about us and proceeded to present the medals. The Gold and Silver medal recipients marched forward to the podium and the awards started. I was one of the proud recipients to receive a gold medal together with Rear Admiral Lukas Bakkes (Retd) and WO1 Patch Oosthuizen (Retd). There were number of recipients for the Silver Medal who also served for many years. Prior to me joining the SAIR I served with (became ) and I am proud to say that three of us were recipients of Gold and Silver Medals (one other Mike Hart was seeing to his wife’s 60 th ) so we would have been four. Sorry, but I am proud of my comrades. I would like to give a short account of the background in the history of this set up (there may be blanks to be filled in by others with more knowledge than I). Up until the demise of Wit Command the PF did all the military matters concerned with this parade, Patch Oosthuizen was involved from the traffic side of the Council. When Wit Command was closed the Freedom Regiments Association took on the role of military advisors and co-coordinators. We burned our fingers quite badly in DHQ as we were interfering in PF turf. Admiral Bakkes was on NINE FOXTROT NEWS 5 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01 the carpet in front of a couple of Generals and I was pulled into the SM of the Army. We explained that the all the CF and Commando Units now answered to Formations none of which had jurisdiction over Johannesburg or the inclination to assume it the FRA assumed the responsibility of this parade. A few of us sat on the Mayors committee and together we “put the show on the road” as they say. We also involved all veterans and not just the WW guys. DHQ now gave us help although we had always got it through the “Old Boys” net anyway. We kept a tradition alive, in remembering those who have gone before us and I am sure we would all do it again if called upon to do so. I also extend my thanks to Lt Col Godfrey Giles and his committee for putting all of this together. Thanks to for allowing us to share their day. To Butch James and the Barberton Boy’s, well done. This is the second home of the Irish. To those on the sick list, I wish you all the best. Special thoughts for Doug. Any news from Killer Coetzee and Len Sherman? Regards to all, Dick Olsen Regimental Sergeant Major – SAIR (Rtd)

FROM GODFREY GILES: Dear Rowley The Gold Recipients were Lukas Bakkes, Patch Oosthuizen and Dick Olsen. Silver recipients were Ian Crowther, Steve Groeneveld, Lawrie Poorter, Neil Knobel, Colin Doyle, Robbie Dow, Willie van der Schyf, Ron Haywood, Marietta Venter Congratulation to you all. Rowley 9F

FROM MANUEL FERREIRA: A new Website for Koevoet: http://koevoet.webklik.nl/page/home

FROM PAUL NESER: Baie aangrypende stukkie oor die Libiese situasie. Ek is 'n afgetrede Vlieenier en was lank in my loopbaan betrokke in Strategiese Beplanning. Hierdie stukkie inligting was sterk genoeg om die hare op my voorarms te laat rys. Laat ons hoop die geneukery van die Asiate en Moslems met hul leiers is nie iets wat ander lande sal aansteek nie. Suid Afrika is "skynbaar" op 'n goeie pad, maar so was Egipte, Oman. Qatar, Yemen, en Libië. Arm werklose en honger proletariaat het ook vir Frankryk en Rusland in die verlede tot rewolusie gebring. Groete Paul Neser Kol SALM (aft)

FROM PAUL ELS: Geagte vriende, Afgetrede lede van die Genie Korps het my genader en gevra om vir hulle ‘n boek aanmekaar te slaan van die Genie se geskiedenis. Dit sluit in net die geskiedenis na WO2 tot datum. Ek versoek as iemand vir my nou net voorlopig enige informasie het te laat kry. Fotos kan later inkom. Ek het reeds ‘n groot hoeveelheid informasie wat vanaf die Internet afgetrek is en wat in Genie boeke verskyn het. Enige hulp sal waardeer word. Ek wil graag ook die hulp verlening wat die Genie gegee het aan natuurrampe insluit. So enige genie manne – sorry SAPPERS – laat my jou storie kry. Fotos is natuurlik bonus. Dankie

FROM MANIE GROVE: 82 000 weapons 'missing' Article By: Rafiq Wagiet Tue, 01 Mar 2011 5:01 ShareEmailMore Parliament's watchdog public accounts committee Scopa on Tuesday demanded an explanation from Defence Minister Lindiwe Sisulu about missing weapons. According to a report by the auditor general, an estimated 82 000 weapons belonging to the South African National Defence Force (SANDF) and the Navy are unaccounted for. A staggering 72 000 out of 82 000 missing weapons belong to the army. The defence department says that it cannot say the weapons are missing or stolen because they could simply not be properly registered. The department has a project planned to address the NINE FOXTROT NEWS 6 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01 discrepancies within the assets registry, but it could take up to 18 months to complete. Wow! And they want to prosecute little old me with my one little old weapon????

FROM PIET NEYNS (Man) WISE WORDS Net mooi niks nuuts nie. Sien onder wat Cicero in 55 vC gese het. Piet Heyns Pr Eng "The budget should be balanced, the Treasury should be refilled, public debt should be reduced, the arrogance of officialdom should be tempered and controlled, and the assistance to foreign lands should be curtailed lest Rome become bankrupt. People must again learn to work, instead of living on public assistance." Cicero - 55 BC I take it some people cannot read Latin????????

FROM LAWRENCE VERMAAK: Rowley this I could not resist sending. regards . This was submiited to their version of your news letter by an American serving in Iraq Name : Kevin Posting date : 11/1/07 Stationed in : Iraq At breakfast, I am put in the enviable position of deciding amongst a made-to-order omelet, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, hash browns, grits, French toast, pancakes, and oatmeal. Just when I think I’ve seen enough food to last me all day, there is the cereal table. Alongside the blander Cheerios and Special K boxes are the more decadent cereals like Fruit Loops, Lucky Charms, and Cocoa Puffs, Lunch and dinner feature more of the same, but go even more overboard in terms of the variety of foods served. Overboard is nice, but I have to ask myself how much KBR charges the U.S. Government for a soldier to eat a meal here. That issue being way above my level as a lowly Battalion Logistics Officer, I instead focus only on what I throw on my plate. For lunch, I can get a sandwich, soup, burgers, hot dog, cheese steak, salad, pizza, tacos, rice, mashed potatoes, fruit, and just about any other basic sort of food. Dinner is equally good. We even get crab legs on Sunday, although the shells are dangerously sharp. Probably the most dangerous thing I do all week, break.

FROM ROAN GOUWS: (NZ) Gidday Rowley I have just come back from ChCh. I live in Pirongia on the North Island so now worries with us. I got deployed there as part of our USAR Task Force. Pretty bad there and I'm going back on Monday for who knows how long. Thanks for your e-mail. Cheers, Roan

FROM TOMMIE LAMPRECHT: Hi julle Ek sopas die boek “The Rhodesian War—A Military History” geskryf deur Paul Moorcroft & Peter Mc Laughlin gelees. Op bladsye 91 en 92 noem hulled at die Sui Afrikaans vervaardige FN met ‘n minderwaardige blitsbreker toegerus was, en dat die .303 ammunissie wat ons aan Rhodesia veskaf het van so minderwaardige gehalte was, dat dit baie stoorings op die Vickers veroorsaak het. Enige kommentaar of inligting van iemand wat dalk weet? Groete Tommie Lamprecht

WHO IS THIS WEEK’S PHOTO OUKIE? NINE FOXTROT NEWS 7 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01

WO1 JP (IKES) UEKERMAN. SAMHS Formerly SAIC. Command Sergeant Major, Medical Training Command.

STORY TIME: OPS CARROT AN ACCOUNT OF A FIREFORCE OPERATION

Ops Carrot?

Who names a military ops “Carrot” I ask with tears in my eyes? When you get clobbered do you say “We got carrots”? Ah those patrols in the areas of civilian settlements were my WORST! So when I ended up in Tsumeb of all places as part of a joint ops involving Bike Squad, Horses, Helo’s and Bats, I’m sure you understand I was ready to shag the first meissie or her mother I could find or preferably both I was going to suip, I was going to kruip and I was going to raise hell with my mates in between chasing reprobates through and around the bush. It was expected of us. We didn’t disappoint. Tsumeb B-Coy found themselves laagered in the confines of the Tsumeb Airport in their tent dorpie with night time temperatures plummeting to close to 0° and daytime temperatures soaring to the mid to late 30° by midday. The mood of the company was strange. Although there was the air of expectancy common with a relatively sudden and large movement of troops, the weeks preceding were marked by that start stop most combat troops become used to. Excitement was therefore tinged with the expectancy of just another rondv*k. The first night in the new camp was marked by a “briefing”. We were advised that a group of Swapo Special Forces (Infantry Platoon Strength – 32 men strong) had infiltrated Namibia from Angola and made their way all the way down to Tsumeb a “white” farming district with the purpose of murdering as many farmers and their families as they could and also to blow up and sabotage as much infrastructure as they could. Our task along with the multi-disciplinary force of Choppers, Dog Squad, Bike Squad, Swaspes (South West Africa Special Force) Bushman Trackers and Berede (Mounted Infantry – Horse), was obvious – eliminate the Swapo Spes or destroy their capability as soon as possible. To my knowledge this was the first time an ops with this style of combined forces was ever used in synchro. The stakes were high and the urgency obvious. As long as these terrs were in the vicinity and as long as they were left unchallenged civilian population was going to die. Track them down and eliminate as many as possible as soon as possible. Day 1 was marked by the early pre-dawn revving of motor cycle engines warming up and the whine of helo’s winding up. Although my section wasn’t going out first, in the groggy state of the troep one eye open horses could be heard snorting and stomping around with soldiers mounting and preparing to go out on opvolg. I could hear one of the other Platoons of B-Coy mincing about preparing their kit for Fireforce. The smell of Avgas permeated the cold air and I shrank deeper into NINE FOXTROT NEWS 8 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01 my slaapsak happy to know I could ballas bak another hour or two. Besides, I also knew the new day would leave me an opportunity to scrounge around for titbits of intel around the ops HQ and also first dibs at finding weak spots in the defences around the airport intended to keep enemy out and not thirsty randy troops in. With stand to and breakfast completed the day came on fast and hot as it does in that and other parts of Africa. Soon I had my bearings and with that enemy of the Officer time in a troep’s hands began my systematic personal intel gathering. I learned two things before lunchtime. The first was the Intel about the Swapo Spes was hot and contact had already been made by one of our sections and the second was escaping at night to go into Tsumeb town would be a cynch. By the first night I found myself firmly ensconced in a oom’s house with the most bitching perske mampoer this side of the orange river burning its way down my throat furiously windy, windy windy’ing his phone asking “nommer astjeblieft” from the Tannie connecting a reverse charge call home. The town pub was doing a roaring trade and the mense were out in force to view the oddity of these soldiers come to the rescue. (By day three the place was like a mortuary at night with the locals well and truly initiated to the rough and tumble (no pun intended) predisposition of Bats and their hangers on. Daughters and wives were locked up tight. A dop and tjop in a home was on but hey under the watchful gaze of Oom!) That didn’t stop the bokkies giggling and flirting during the day in the vicinity of the airport fence. The illicit activities and the rendezvous merely became surreptitious and clandestine.) Day one and the kill count came in. B-Coy had bagged 4 terrs. Day two and Platoon 2 Section 2 mounted their choppers at first light. We had good intel. A farmer five minutes earlier had radio’d two cows were found dead at the water troughs on his farm. In lantern light the farm workers were able to differentiate the dreaded (for local pops anyway) chevron designs of military boots common to the Soviet Union spoor in the sand. If a terr wanted to hide he’d wear sneakers. If he wanted to tell you he was there and he had evil intentions he openly flaunted his presence by wearing Soviet Army Issue Boots. Kind of like “hoezit, hiesek, V*k JOU) kind of attitude doing that. I must tell you there is one thing about my time in Bats that I loved as much as life itself and that was riding a Puma at first light in the hands of a great Combat Pilot at tree top in the open door with my feet dangling on the skid and my butt on the floor out on Fireforce. I never gave a shit how cold it was. I was first to bag a seat in the door and preferably closest to the wind. If you sat back just a centimetre or two it was warm and windless but damn if you wanted you had a view. On a warm day that swooping, banking and dropping of the chopper as it chased the contours was pure heaven. The adrenalin rush amazing coming in to land in a hot DZ. Section 2 Platoon 2 under Cpl Christo Krynauw with a couple of Bushmen trackers were my companions on this eventful day. Krynauw was a “weird” Cpl (Platoon Sergeant) by any/most standards. Hell he was more like a buddy almost from the start. He came to my platoon into our second six months and just pulled in. He led us without bullying, pulling rank or pushing. Hell we all had earned our wings, we all had something and he just seemed to respect that. We fought with him not under him and he fought with us. We instinctively protected him and made sure if we made shit he would be covered. There was never an instance of insubordination ever. Like I say, serving with Krynauw was almost surreal when considering the other f*ckers trying to show how much bigger their balls were because they weren’t sure they fit their pips or stripes. Believe me there were other Cpl’s just like Krynauw when it came to their relationships with their troops such as for instance Cpl Owen Croft. Now maybe he’s full of vim and spit and “ja ek is nou mos belangrik en poep dinamiet”, but back then a genuine, genuine NCO as stoutgat as the next and willing to take the punch with and for his troops. You folks know him as Mother Goose here. Although where in Hades he thought up that monicker only he knows. He should try Trompie. Opvolg (Fireforce) Fireforce found me in my usual place sitting in the open door of the Puma as it skimmed the treetops in blisteringly cold wind heading towards the farm where the dead cows were found. The trip took about half an hour before we arrived at the water troughs. It was already first light and the farmer was nowhere to be seen. NINE FOXTROT NEWS 9 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01

The chopper was still in the air when I launched myself out the door. I misjudged my height in the light and landed in a crunching bone jarring half crouch half f*cked up split on the ground and promptly let off an AD with my R4 scaring the stuffing out of the section and making a royal tit of myself. An auspicious start to my day. (In the early days of the inimitable R4, the weapons had a design flaw. It wasn’t my stupidity I swear. The firing pin on the first R4’s was too long and with constant cocking would slowly tip away at the firing cap on the first round in the chamber till eventually the rifle would go off at the sound of someone going boo. We were drilled to overcome this by unloading our magazines frequently and rotating our rounds which is something I did diligently. This time I just arrived on earth so hard the f*cking rifle just spat.) The Puma skedaddled and left us standing in the silence of the still morning surveying the scene and moving very slowly away from the spot we had debussed from careful not to mess up any valuable spoor left behind by the Swapo Spes. Somewhere in the evolving of time I had emerged as the “unofficial” spoorsnyer (tracker,) for B-Coy Platoon 2. I never went on course or anything like that I just had great eyesight and an analytical eye that lent itself to the job. So I naturally began checking the ground while the bushmen surveyed the carcasses of the dead cows. It took about half an hour for us to make a half decent conclusion supported by the tongue clicking Swaspes Bushmen trackers. There were as reported two dead cows and tracks of what looked like three terrs wearing chevron boots. Intel was spot on. I know many people knock the quality of intel during the bush war but in my experiences, fluid as bushwar is, the intel we worked with was great whether it came from Recce’s, locals or infantry patrols. Sometimes cold, sometimes under/overestimated but mostly SOUND! The dead cows were a revelation. While they had their throats slit, nothing of their flesh cold be seen to have been removed for meat. It didn’t make sense at all. It appeared to the first glance that the cows had simply been slaughtered out of whim but given the risks inherent in the delay caused by such senselessness this was just too damn whimsical. It was only when the Bushmen trackers began excitedly chattering at the backside of one that I saw a pool of blood on the ground near the arsehole. Gingerly lifting the hind leg of the one cow ever mindful of booby traps we surveyed the underbelly of the cow and noticed a cut between its legs approximately 10cm long and 5cm wide where the vulva (wall) of the cows vagina should be and saw that the only meat removed from the cow was this section. The cows toss had been surgically cut out. Inspection of the second cow revealed the same mutilation. Now one would immediately conclude that this was a sign left for the locals of things to come but that would be an incorrect assumption. You see it is believed that the cows vagina eaten raw has powerful muti. Also, it has been suggested and I am open to correction that this part of the cow holds the greatest nutrition and is light to carry. It also doesn’t bleed as much and leave a possible blood trail if not wrapped up properly. At this point we had seen enough and the real task of hunting down these mutts could begin in earnest. By all guestimation the spoor left by these three was 6 hours old and we had a tough task ahead of us. Twelve Bats and their three Bushmen trackers set out in the early hours with the sun peeping over the trees for their dates with destiny. Initially the pace was pretty good following well worn farm (cattle) tracks where the soft sand left a virtual highway in the bush to follow. Adrenalin fed us and kept us full of challenge to haul in the terrs even with their six hour head start. We were constantly reassured they would stop at some point to lay mines or set booby traps or some other such miscreant activity giving us time to catch up somewhat. After approximately an hour of that typical “kaffer draf” the terrain began to change and we found ourselves slowing as we began to negotiate our way through rugged thorn bushes and uneven ground scattered with solid rock outcrops and mounds. The spoor began to all but disappear and we began to find ourselves slowing to a crawl, losing the spoor frequently and having to double back and double round. By 9 am the heat was shimmering and the sweat was beginning to make our webbing stick to our backs. We were travelling light with only two magazines, two water bottles, one rat pack, basic medical supply (one or two drips, sossegon etc), R4’s and that was pretty much it. Of course we wore sneakers we bought back in the RSA with our own cash and all cut off our shirt sleeves and used our scarves (Cut off pieces) as bandanas to keep the sweat out our eyes which we kept in our kit and put on as soon as we were out of eyeshot of the base. By 10 am we were virtually at a standstill. Our tactics began to change. The Bushmen were no NINE FOXTROT NEWS 10 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01 longer looking for spoor on the ground. We were made to stand away from them some 10 meters and to stay deathly quiet. They were moving around in slow smooth circles looking up at the sky. I thought they were looking for signs of bird life startled or carrion picking up pieces of food left behind by the terrs. They were constantly chattering with each other, when they decided to pick a direction and head in it at a reasonable clip considering the uneven and unforgiving terrain. It was all of fifteen minutes when I caught up and stood beside the Bushmen. They were looking down at a brown pool in the soil. It was shit! Around the shit were the spoor of the three terrs. Incredible the Bushmen were not scouring the sky, they were scouring for scent and picked up the smell of human excrement in the sand on the breeze almost a half kilometre away. As it turned out one of the cows wasn’t so healthy (down there) and had had a mild infection which now with the terrs eating the meat raw had resulted in gippo guts among them. Any soldier familiar with bush warfare will tell you probably the best sign to find of your prey is excrement. When its a loose stool it’s gold. The way excrement dries on any given day will give you an almost precise timeline of the enemy’s movement. This shit was six hours old. We hadn’t hauled them in by so much as a half an hour. SHIT!!!!! After four hours of constant draf we hadn’t hauled the terrs back an inch! That one revelation pinned our hopes and morale back hugely. These were Swapo Spes and they were GOOD! Now I’ve read dissertations and been to the movies. I’ve watched CNN and heard long stories and short stories and quite a few kak stories in my time about war. There are tactics employed using “smart bombs”, cluster bombs, Napalm, men on donkey’s, men on camels, bikes and horses, there are big bombs, little bombs, gunships, troop ships and just about every method concocted by mans fertile imagination to kill men. I’m by no means a tactician but it is my firm belief that after millions of years of evolution man has held his life as the primary objective and purpose to defend and has done so at incredible odds with aplomb precisely because man is a sneaky mother f*cker. Despite the odds and the considerable wars not to mention other natural predators man has multiplied massively. I know without a shadow of doubt that the most effective means to exterminate man is man himself. There are no shortcuts. In defence of his life a man will employ every subterfuge to stay alive. To kill a man who does not want to die and who knows someone is trying to kill him you have to work hard. You have to be on the ground seeking the enemy out. You have to hunt him down. In Tsumeb, the terrain is cruel and unforgiving, the heat unbearable, the environment stingy in its support of any survival.

It is a land of existence. It was in this environment that the hunters and the hunted played out their game of cat and mouse. The Opvolg (The Follow-up) 10 am turned to 11 am and then noon. The heat was sucking our enthusiasm as fast as we were sucking the water from our bottles. The water from our water bottles was tepid. My saliva was thick and my head began to throb after six hours of nonstop concentration and constant scouring of the ground for sign. Sign had become a scuff on a rock or a broken branch on a dry tree that had to be read for the possibility of the break being made by an animal. Our actions had become rhythmical and repetitive... we were long into what we called “the zone”. That place where you become mechanical, where you simply put one foot in front of the other, alone in your thoughts of home or wherever you escaped when you had nothing to face or expect but the monotony of the inevitability of the job you had to do. It was precisely this that the months of opv*k and rondv*k during basics and PT course had prepared you for. Nothing more and nothing less. There was no possibility of “ek is moeg” or “ek is honger” or “ek is dors”. It was a place and space of silence and nothingness. It was a space and place of total commitment and challenge. It was a dance of death. I never in the entire unfolding of my personal day felt like slowing down or giving up. I don’t know how my comrades felt. But not one of the men with me moaned or grumbled or asked for a breather – ONCE! We were each in our own personal hell. I have news for men like Mac Alexander and the other smart analysts but I frequently found myself in situations as a Bat when it was EVERY man for himself. It was what we were f*cking TRAINED for. It was the principal basis upon which we built our camaraderie and trust. That we could NINE FOXTROT NEWS 11 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01 rely on each other to look after ourselves in battle and in doing so by natural extension looked after our mates! It is how Mac Alex says it that gets my goat. He was never a Bat like the Bats I knew and I knew Mac Alex well in the “old” days. After 8 hours on the spoor at 2 pm we stopped for the first time to radio our position back to HQ and provide a sitrep at the water and feeding troughs of another obscure farm approximately 27 k’s from where we initially started. The spoor was six hours old.... We hadn’t gained an inch. We knew by then we were being beaten by the enemy. The longer they stayed out front the closer they got to darkness, the closer they got to darkness the closer someone nameless and faceless got to being murdered. Stopper groups were useless because we were following a prey that never maintained a specific course or direction. Their objective was to evade capture and stay in the general vicinity. Getting up from our positions after reporting to base and getting back onto the spoor was always difficult for me. You felt the numbness in your arms and legs sitting down. You lost the zone where you became impervious to the physical exhaustion and pain. You lost the mechanical rhythm of the place you went after you hit “the wall” and went over and beyond into unchartered physical territory. The wolfing down of rat pack sat heavily in your stomach and the weight of your feet felt like lead weights at the end of your legs. But constantly in the back of your mind you knew that some oom or tannie or a nubile bokkie somewhere needed you to fight the fight they had no idea it was taking you to fight in the anonymity of their lands, lands so sparse and inhospitable they seemed hardly worthwhile occupying much less defending. So you got up, dusted your sorry arse down and got back on the trail such as the virtually nonexistent trail was and took up the fight again. After a half hour or so the food was digesting and the legs were where they were before and your mind drifted back in and out of that private space, back in the comfort of that private “zone”. Time simply stood still and you just scoured the earth and put thoughts of the day creeping away and your possible failure as far from your consciousness as you could. While the truth be told I felt twinges of guilt between the grit from dust between my teeth and the swarm of mopanie flies around my face for the nagging fleeting intrusion of doubt I simply couldn’t keep out as reality faced me with every step the spoor taunted me six hours old. SHITTTTT!!!!!!!! The shadows lengthened and the day wound down. We kept up our merciless pace despite the disappointment I could read on every man’s face around me. I was looking intently at my comrades to try read their thoughts to see if they felt the same way as I thought my face displayed my emotions. We were losing. At 5 pm we were in another clearing on another farm at another water and feeding trough breaking off the chase and radioing or position and sitrep to HQ. 11 hours of non stop brutal hunt and challenge and we had gained nothing. There is a place in all of our hearts where we only we as solitary individuals who are born alone know when we are alone where we cannot escape the truth of our introspection. It is a place, stripped of any subterfuge, falsehood or self preservation. It is a place where truth is unassailable and resolute. It is a place I visited in my failure that day knowing with absolute clarity the consequence of my failure. It is a place I went to confront my demons with the question, “in light of the consequence of that failure and the real possibility of my waking the next day to hear the name of the family I had failed to protect – Had I done my best?” Fellow Bats and comrades, the answer was forthcoming not from self preservation or selfishness. The answer was in the face of my fellow soldiers. I don’t know what defines effort to the extent that one man’s effort is any greater than any other mans. I don’t know who judges us and hands out the medals or awards or by what criteria it is decided that some are good while others are great. Suffice it to say that what B-Coy, Platoon 2, Section 2 with those Bushmen trackers under the command of Cpl Christo Krynauw did that day ranks in my life as the most remarkable feat of determination and endurance I have ever seen. That one day signifies to me today what being a Bat meant. It meant no excuses. It meant utter and complete integrity. It meant just giving everything you had without bullshitting yourself. It meant never giving up, never! There wasn’t a single man in B-Coy who I don’t consider a hero today. The answer as such I sought in myself and got was that I had given everything. I had given as much as the best man in my group and the best man in my group was as good as the best man anywhere in the world. NINE FOXTROT NEWS 12 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01

I was at peace with myself when the order came to follow a “kap lyn” (Borderline between Angola and SWA/Namibia) for a klick and meet Samils at a tar road that would intersect and pick us up and take us back to the Tsumed Airport. We were quiet as we made our way up the kaplyn dejected and tired. The squad walked in a strung out single file with some guys shouldering their weapons and the Bushmen out front for about 800 meters. The Bushmen stopped in their tracks and were chattering away animatedly and looking at each other in total confusion. Cpl Krynauw joined them and MorizonM drew is arm out extended with palm down and went down on one knee. The column passed the signal down the line and we all went down on our knees wondering what the fuck was up now. Krynauw took his right hand extended his arm and pointed his thumb down. He then turned his arm sideways palm extended and pointed to his right. He had indicated, enemy to the right. Krynauw then took his right hand and made a cone with his fingers and took the point made by his fingers and tapped his head. He then took his hand in a fist and motioned up and down in the universal language of the hand sign for masturbation. He was indicating to the Section to tell me to get up there and quickly. Contact I pulled my stiff body off the ground and made my way to Krynauw where he pointed at the ground and asked me what I thought. My blood ran ice cold and I could feel the colour drain from my face. There in the thick sand of a typical kaplyn at 5.30 pm I saw the spoor of the terrs we’d been chasing. I was looking at the tracks while small grains of sand trickled down the ridges made from their boots. These tracks had been made minutes, if not seconds before. I put my index Morizo to my lips to indicate everyone to be silent and scoured the bush to my right and saw a clearing with huts for the local farmers workers. I saw one or two workers gathered around a fire preparing supper. Krynauw motioned for the rest of the Section to bring themselves up to our group and set us in a “uitgespreide lienie”.(extended line) Taking the Bushmen and one stick leaving the other stick behind for covering fire (I was one in the stick giving deking), (cover,) Krynauw and the rest made their way as stealthily as possible toward the kraal. The kraal had a doring draad (barbed wire) fence surrounding it on the perimeter and the guys began clambering over it. There were two shots and then an explosion. The explosion was about 15 feet from where I was sitting. It was loud and deafened me, the force momentarily stunned me. I could feel a storm of sand and earth raining down on me. There was a fleeting moment of shock and panic while the thought “f*ck they’re lobbing mortars smack on top of me” reverberated through my head and I braced for the next explosion that would surely kill me. The men that were climbing over the fence let loose with everything virtually at once spraying bullets at an enemy I couldn’t see. Krynauw looked back and saw me sitting there in the shock of the explosion and the expression on his face accompanied by his lips moving without sound coming out because I was partially deaf and the gunfire drowned out the rest told me to get the f*ck out of there. I was up and running to catch up and hopping the doring draad fence when I saw the terrs for the first time. One was slightly behind a labourer’s hut and down, another was crouched at the corner of the hut and firing wildly and too high in his panic, the third was out in the open and doing the 200 meter sprint for the sanctuary of the bush. When I say I was momentarily stunned and that while the entire action seemed like minutes everything was actually happening in split seconds. I was back in my section and racing at the enemy drawing a bead on the terr on the corner of the shack but had the first section and the bushmen darting across my line of fire in front of me and couldn’t shoot. The terr haring in the open presented a brilliant target given my position in relation to the rest of the section. He was carrying a 9mm Scorpion and spraying bullets willy nilly over his shoulder without looking as he ran. I stopped running dropped to my knee and drew a bead. The sights of my R4 in front (Gaaitjie versier) which you could flip for range was at half mast, a feature that allowed you to use your night sights. This was another design flaw that irritated the hell out of me. The sight could be knocked into half mast much too inadvertently for my liking completely f*cking up your aim. NINE FOXTROT NEWS 13 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01

Those mistakes and those split seconds cost men their lives. I flicked my sight to 300 and took aim only to see Smiler Herbst running like an Morizon sprinter accros from the wide flank. I looked at this mullet thinking Herbst was actually going to run the terr down and bliksem him with his bare hands when Hebst went from mad dash to sliding in the dust rifle to the shoulder took aim and shot on automatic taking the terr down in one movement. Herbst was one mean Parabat I’ll tell you that. This oke had brawn AND balls of note. By the time the terr Herbst shot hit the deck the rest of the section had taken out the terr sheltering at the corner of the hut by shooting him right through the hut he was sheltering behind. The firefight as it was was over in less than 15 seconds. Three terrs were down by some amazing twist of fate and timing. They had hunkered down to rest for the nights escapades less than 500 meters from where we had made our last sitrep and set out again minutes before our orders to pull out. They carried crisp brand spanking new ten rand (hundred rand) notes and excellent equipment. They were armed with Tokarev’s, AK’s and a Strim. It was the Strim that missed me and not a mortar. It was a Strim through the side of a Buffel that eventually killed Rfn Gavin Harvey just 10 days before our National Service was up. It’s a Rifle using balistite rounds exclusively and lobs long thin rifle grenades of varying ordinance. This one was armour piercing and instead of spraying me with shrapnel burrowed its way into the earth and pelted me with sand. Incredibly not a single labourer was so much as scratched during the exchange of gunfire. At 6.15 pm the Samils picked us up and took us back to base with the dead terrs. There was a quick debrief and a well done boys from Herbert Pos. There were no parties, there were no handshakes and there were no dankie tannies. There were no medals or thank you’s. In fact there was nothing save for a grateful sleep, the next day and night off when you could forgive me for scaling the fence into the streets of Tsumeb and the randy arms of a dik sussie armed with nothing but a few rands and Durex Extra Protection condoms. This is but one of my memories of my time with the likes of Herbert Pos, Herman Morkel, Willie Bolton and our own Mother Goose. It’s a memory of honour, of valour, it’s a memory of having a belief in one’s self and ones people. It’s a memory of commitment. Most of all it’s a memory of having had the great fortune to serve in an army in a unit that in its time was second to none in the world.

SICK REPORT and PROGRESS :

Our readers needing a prayer or more: Erica French, Dougie Oostelaag Ronnie Claassen Norman Gebhardt

FROM JOHN FRENCH: Dear Friends, DAY 100: (Visit number 299). Erika is recovering magnificently. She is trying to talk and I have to get my lip reading jacked up.

I am sorry to relay this but the Matron in charge of the ward has requested me to restrict visitors to immediate family only for the time being. NINE FOXTROT NEWS 14 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01

Have a great week and I will probably see some of you at Thys Eagar’s funeral on Thursday afternoon.

FROM CLIFF HEWITT (Zim) Hi Rowley I would just like to let you know that one of my dear friends is quite ill. He is Lt Col Norman Gebhardt (SAAF) retired. He was a Technical Officer at numerous unit including Ellisras, Devon, 68 and Training Command. He is a Reserve Officer helping out at the SAAF Museum. He was diagnosed with a cancerous tumour in his orizon and lesions on his liver. Please ask the chaps to say a special prayer for him and his family. For those who know him and wish to contact him, he currently lives at Gem Village – Irene

(behind Smuts House). His telephone number is 0829731646. Regards from a wet Zimbabwe, Cliff Hewitt

I phoned Giep Hill’s cell number, hearing that Rina his wife was using it to find out how Giep was doing. Giep answered and by the sound of his voice, I was sure he was having a beer or three. Giep says he is out of danger, Valves and tappets cleaned and rearing to go. Rowley 9F

I Also phoned Barbara, “The Rose amongst the Thons,” wife of “Our Uncle in the Furniture Business,” Thijs Eagar, offering the readers of Nine Foxtrot’s condolences. Barbara remains a very fine lady and Thijs will always looked upon as a model for any young (and old,) soldier.

TRANSFERRED TO HIGHER COMMAND:

FROM PIET HEYNS: Ken Snowball , National President of SAAFA, died this morning around 07:00. He succumbed to cancer of the liver after a very short period of illness. Our sincere condolences goes to his family and close friends. We will inform you of funeral arrangements as soon as it is known.

THEIR NAMES SHALL LIVITH FOREVER:

Brig Gen KEN SNOWBALL, National President of SAAFA and Member of Savannah Veterans Association

IIIn proud thanksgiving NINE FOXTROT NEWS 15 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01

Let us remember our elder brethren.

TTThey shalshalll grow not old

As we who are left grow old.

AAAge shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

AAAt the going down of the sun and in the morning,

WE SHALL REMEMBER THEM.

A NOTE FROM ROWLEY : Please, when submitting notices of death or illness, give as much detail as possible eg Service, Corps Rank (Ret) and places of work. Tell us a bit about him. Others might want to remember him as well. Thanks you. Rowley 9F

PARADES, FUNCTION AND GATHERINGS:

FROM NEELS HALGRYN: LUNCHEON It is the wish of the National President of the SA Armour Association and the GOC, SA Amour Formation, that all serving and ex-service members of the SA Armoured Corps, members of the SA Armour Association and Friends of the Armour should get together informally from time to time for lunch. Our Second Luncheon for 2011 will be held at Evenden House, Glover Avenue, Lyttelton(Next to old MMI, now LGI). Co-ordinates - S:25°49’ O/E:28°11’

On Friday 18 March 2011 – 11:30 for 12:00 till 15:00

You may bring a guest/guests : either an Armour member who is not yet a member of the Association and/ or your friend(s)/person(s) who is/are – was/were – would like to be associated with the Armour.

ARRANGEMENTS Dress: Smart casual / working dress

Rations: Three course meal

Liquids / : Cash Bar/Kontant kroeg

Costs / R80.00 per person (in cash on 18 Mar 11) NINE FOXTROT NEWS 16 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01

Please confirm Attendance and Particulars of Guest(s) not later than 12:00 on M onday 14 March 2011 o Neels Halgryn at 083 656 4985( per sms )/Fax 012 664 0397/ e-mail [email protected] SIEN U DAAR !! SEE YOU THERE !!

PUBLICATIONS:

FROM MANUEL FERREIRA: ALTERED STATES By Frank Nunes ISBN 978 1 920169 42 8 Published By: Just Done Productions Publishing My latest read, the SADF memoirs of Frank Nunes, is a paperback book, A5 size, 338 pages long, and published by Just Done Productions. To give a brief background, Frank was a conscript, called up in July 1980 to 5 SAI in Ladysmith. After advice from a Parabat friend, he applied for and was selected for Parabat training, and got most of the way through this before being injured in a training accident, which prevented him completing the Parabat PT course. As a consequence, he was transferred summarily to 8 SAI in Upington rather than being RTU’d, and he completed basics and other phase training at Upington, eventually becoming an infantry medic. For the rest of his two-year national service he completed three separate border duties at Opuwa, Ondangwa and Ombalantu, and also took part briefly in Operation. Protea . The book is split into six Parts, and begins with some background information about the author, as well as his current outlook in life. This may a sound somewhat strange start to the book, but it becomes abundantly clear why he has done so when the reader continues through his story. Starting with a brief account of his family background and upbringing, he has deliberately approached the book with a view to the positive rather than negative aspects of life in the SADF as an infantryman. The latter are mostly mentioned in passing, even the death of comrades in action on one occasion, but there are a lot of humorous and quirky tales to keep the reader smiling, most of which could be recognised by anyone who went through similar experiences in the SADF. To give two of the more laugh-out-loud examples, at one point his compatriot Carl convinced him that the two of them should avoid church parades by claiming to be atheists, and he goes on to describe in hilarious detail how the chaplain and Carl spent the next few weeks trying to win the battle for their collective souls. On another occasion, whilst assisting in the medical wards at Upington hospital, he and a nurse take a recently deceased corpse to the mortuary, only to have the daylights frightened out of them by the body’s natural release of gases, which made the dead man move. There is a serious side to the book too, and Frank candidly admits that he felt very out-of- touch and detached whenever home on leave, particularly after Border duty where he and his friends had seen some action, and he couldn’t wait to get back to his comrades. Again, this is something that anyone who did service in SWA during the Border War can relate to, I am sure. He describes his fears and disappointments too, not just his hopes and happy times. In his two years, he goes from a tea drinking quite boy from Melville, to an at times heavy drinking and chain smoking lad, and freely admits that it was good to be like that at the time, although he no longer does either. Perhaps the most refreshing thing about Frank Nunes’ autobiography of his two-year national service in the SADF, is how he has looked at and concentrated on the positive effects that this time had on his development as a person, something this reviewer can relate to equally. He also admits NINE FOXTROT NEWS 17 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01 that it wasn’t always great fun, there were times of great stress and sadness, but they have helped shape him to be the man he is today, a man that he is happy, comfortable and content with. I had a lot of fun reading this book, chuckling out aloud on many occasions, and would recommend it to anyone who was there themselves, or their spouses, who would have a far better understanding of just why they are still strange today after reading this entertaining book. If you were

there, you will recognise yourself or someone you served with right away. Peter Chapman

FROM MANUEL FERREIRA: Oorlog in Beelde – “BOS” deur Christo Doherty. ‘n Jong Christo Doherty het in Desember 1977 sy junior offisierskursus voltooi en het die hele volgende jaar as tweede luitenant in die “Bosoorlog” aan die Namibiese grens geveg. Doherty het in en grootgeword en sy twee jaar diensplig net nà matriek gedoen. Daarna het hy literatuur en wysbegeerte aan die Universiteit van Kaapstad orizon. Hy het ook later opleiding in tegniese operasies by die SAUK-TV ondergaan. Doherty is tans hoogleraar en hoof van digitale kuns aan die Universiteit van die Witwatersrand met ‘n spesifieke belangstelling in fotografie en die digitale media. Hy het plaaslik en oorsee uitgestal. Een uitstalling was Armed Response, ‘n 150-tal fotografiese beelde van veiligheidstekens in Johannesburg wat in September 2007 in Potsdam Duitsland geopen het.

Asof op parade, staar die vyf jong wit weermagtroepies langs mekaar van die muur af vorentoe – hul Nugget-swartgesmeerde gesigte meer as dubbeld lewensgroot. Dàài een is die waaksame, parate soldaat, wys prof. Christo Doherty (51), hoof van digitale kuns aan die Universiteit van die Witwatersrand. Diè een is die cool, daggarokende surfer van Durban, beduie hy. “Daar’s ‘n deurmekaar, hopelose een wat jy oral in die ori gekry het.” En ‘n ‘psigopaat’ (“vir wie almal lig geloop het”) voltooi saam met ‘n luitenant (“wat dieper oor dinge dink”) die reeks “Black is Beautiful 1-5. Doherty kèn sy ‘eenheid’. Hy het immers as bloedjong offisier saam met diè ori manne aan die Suidwes-grens geveg. Diè troep-vyftal vorm ‘n sentrale tema in Doherty se uitstalling “BOS”, ‘n dertigtal ‘gekonstrueerde beelde’ vandie Grensoorlog wat nou in ‘n Johannesburgse kunsgalery te sien is. NINE FOXTROT NEWS 18 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01

“Ons het modelle uitgesoek vir diè foto’s,” sê hy, wat 1978 as tweede luitenant aan die Angola-grens met die destydse SWA deurgebring het. “Vir my is hulle van die argetipiese persoonlikhede wat ‘n mens destyds aan die grens gekry het.“Daar is ‘n diep ironie daarin dat wit soldate tydens die oorlog hul gesigte swart moes maak vir nagkamoeflering. “Die ‘sleng’ daarvoor was “Black is Beautiful”….die bevelvoerder sou sê: “gaan sit aan jou ‘black is beautiful’”Die volle oriz van sy uitstalling is “BOS”, Constructed Images and the Memory of the South African “Bush War.” “Baie mense orizo die Grensoorlog uitbeeld as ‘n rasse-oorlog, wit teen swart,” sê Doherty. “Dit was nie. Swart soldate aan SAW-kant het die meeste van die vegwerk gedoen, en hulle het hul eie redes daarvoor gehad. Baie was oud-Angolese, maar ook talle was swart Suidwesters, soo diè in Koevoet.” Die Suid-Afrikaanse soldate wat hy in sy uitstalling uitbeeld, orizo hy allermins verheerlik of as martelaars uitbeeld. “Hulle ‘praat’ met die kyker met ‘n verskeidenheid reaksies oor hùl ervaring van die oorlog; van tragiese hartseer tot psigopatiese uittarting.” Die Grensoorlog het in 1966 begin toe Suid-Afrikaanse polisielede na die SWA grens gestuur is om Swapo-insypelaars op te spoor. Dit het uitgebrei tot ‘n volskeepse konvensionele oorlog, SA se langste, wat eers met die ontrekking van die laaste SWA-troepe in 1989 beëindig is. “Die oorlog is indie bos gevoer, en ek is aangegryp deur die nagevolge van die woorde wat daaruit gespruit het, soos ‘bossies’ en ‘bosbef*k.’” In sy notas oor ‘BOS’, skryf Doherty: “Die uitstalling verken die emosionele gevolge vir die wit dienspligtiges wat na ‘noorlog gestuur is wat nooit behoorlik aan hulle verduidelik of geregverdig is nie. Baie van hulle kon hulself daarna nooit sover kry om daaroor te praat nie. Soos soveel ander wit seuns, het ek nà skool nie geweet wat ek wou doen nie. Ek was nie gereed vir universiteit nie; ek is ‘army’toe. En nà die tyd is jy nie eens ‘ge-debrief’ nie. Jy het uitgeklaar, jou kit teruggegee. Daar is basies vir jou gesê f*k off – gaan kry vir jou ‘n werk. Mense na aan my het gesê ek het heeltemal anders van die grens af teruggekom. orizo ‘n tyd lank heeltemal mal was, maar èk het dit nie besef nie.” Diè letsels van “bossies” beeld Doherty verderaan uit. Vier van sy ‘Black is beautiful’-eenheid word herhaal; nou ‘gebrei’ deur die oorlog. Op diè ‘na-foto’s’ , ‘African Mask 1-4’, is almal nou harder, geskend of ontnugter. Die swart orizon- bolaag van vòòr hul eerste oorlogservaringe het nou werklike, strak, swart maskers geword….een se oë is toe, ‘n ander staar bot, uitdagend na die kamera. “Ek dink sy kyk sê duidelik: “F*K jou”, sê Doherty. “En dit was baie se houding nà hul diensplig.” Die ‘Durbanse daggaroker’ maak nie weer sy verskying in ‘African Mask’ nie. “Dalk is hy dood? Ek weet nie.” “Dis die ding van visuele kuns – jy moet daarmee stoei en worstel. Dit gee jou nie duidelike antwoorde nie.” Saam met die soldaatbeelde vorm amper 3D-erige foto’s wat geneem is van klein, handgemaakte modelle die res van die uitstalling. Dié is gemaak na aanleiding van werklike oorlogsfoto’s )dikwels gekombineer)van destyds. “Die modelle is gemaak van plastiek en hars en is maar etlike sentimeters groot. Dis daarna gefotografeer en opgeblaas.” Een is ‘n Ratel-troepedraer wat tydens die oorlogsjare by die Randse Paasskou uitgestal is. ‘n Klein wit seuntjie kyk met bewondering op na ‘n soldaat langs die voertuig. “Daar is altyd weermagvoertuie en wapens by die Paasskou vertoon en die voertuie was alteed teen ‘n skuins hoek geparkeer…ek het altyd gewonder hiekom.”

Die plakkaat wat ‘BOS’ adverteer, is een van dié plastiek-modelle: die ‘lyk’ van ‘n Swapo-vegter, op sy maag vasgegord aan die spaarwiel van ‘n Caspir-gevgsvoertuig. NINE FOXTROT NEWS 19 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01

“Dit som vir my die brutaliteit van daardie oorlog op. Kykers herken dit as ‘n dooie swart liggaam op ‘n gevegsvoertuig, maar terselfdertyd is die plastiek Caspir ook ‘n orizon en die ‘lyk’ ‘n plastiek figuur. “Die kyker weet dikwels nie so mooi waar hy met diè beelde staan nie. Die uitstalling is juis met hierdie doel saamgestel”

‘n Ikoniese oorlogsfoto van ‘n Caspir in ‘n heeltemal ander situasie het al die drade van die uitstalling vir hom bymekaar laat kom, sê Doherty. “Ek was omtrent al ‘n jaar besig met die projek, meestal met navorsing in koerantargiewe, toe ek op ‘n foto van John Liebenberg afkom. Dit was van ‘n Caspir geparkeer op die wal van ‘n rivier aan die Angola-grens met Koevoet-lede wat piekniek hou. Hul vroue en kinders was ook saam. Daai foto het alles vir my laat kliek. Die Caspir in dié situasie is so bisar anders as waarvoor dit gewoonlik gebruik is – om oorlog orizo maak. Daarby het Koevoet (die gevreesde teeninsurgensie-eenheid van die polisie) verreweg die meeste Swapo-vegters doodgemaak.”

In diè reeks foto’s, orizo ‘Koevoet Picnic’, staan ‘n sambreel opgeslaan teen die vroegmiddagson. ‘n Hond hou orizonp. “Nabyskote” van die plastiekvroutjies wys hul kleurryke, tipiese 1980’s-drag, soos span-langkortbroeke. Een het selfs hoëhakskoene aan, heeltemal onprakties vir die riviersand. Net na diè vrolike ontspanne foto, hang die foto van die ‘Swapo-lyk” op die Caspirwiel volgende teen die muur. “Ek het dit daar geplaas om kykers te herinner waarvoor die Caspirs werklik daar was.” DIS NOU TYD VIR PRAAT. Sedert die Eerste Wêreldoorlog, moes ‘n tydperk eers nà oorloë verloop voordat die betrokkenes deur kuns, literatuur en rolprente met diè trauma kon omgaan. So sê prof. Chris Doherty. Hy het in die anderhalf jaar wat hy aan die ‘BOS’-projek gewerk het, bewus geword van ‘n “duidelike” orizo wat die uitbeelding van die Grensoorlog in SA aangeneem het. “Tydens die 1980’s, toe die oorlog op sy ergste gewoed het, het die Afrikaanse ‘grensliteratuur’-genre ontstaan. Dis meestal geskryf deur outeurs wat ‘n beperkte ervaring van aktiewe betrokkenheid by die oorlog gehad het. ‘n Uitsondering was die werk van Alexander Strachan, ‘n oud-Recce. Diè Afrikaanse ‘literêre’ omgang het in die 1980’s , na die einde van die oorlog afgeneem, maar die afgelope vyf jaar is ‘n stortvloed memoires, herinneringe en net effens gefiksionaliseerde romans gepubliseer. Dis interessant dat omtrent al die werk in Engels gedoen is. Eerstepersoonvertellings en gekonstrueerde beelde is straks al wat ons het om te begryp wat die Grensoorlog aan al on Suid- Afrikaners gedoen het, want daar is geen omvattende geskiedkundige boekstawing daarvan op die orizon nie.” WAT/WAAR? ‘BOS’ kan tot 12 Maart besigtig word in die Resulution Gallery, Jan Smutslaan 142, Parkwood, Johannesburg.

VACANCIES:

Security Advisor in Darfur, Sudan Jab Swart says that “...Barry Steyn requires a Security Advisor in Darfur. Emphasis is on applicants with previous NGO, security and Sudan experience. CVs should NINE FOXTROT NEWS 20 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01 not be forwarded to me as all detail is on the link at https://tbe.taleo.net/NA5/ats/careers/requisition.jsp?org=CAREUSA&cws=1&rid=1201 ”.

Safety and Security Officer in Geneva Jab also advise of the vacancy at the International Labour Organization in Geneva for a position at the Professional (P ¾)level on a temporary contract of 9 months. This position is to be filled as soon as possible and it is not supposed to be extended. The position will be located at ILO HQ Geneva in order to provide support the ILO Safety & Security Coordinator. Apply to employment-escwacun.org before 04/03.2011.

LAUGH AND THE SERGEANT MAJOR LAUGHS WITH YOU:

FROM OFAFs: A wife asked her husband: ‘What do you like most in me, my pretty face or my sexy body?’ He looked at her from head to toe and replied: ‘I like your sense of humour.’

FROM ZIM: “ Once we had Clinton, Johnny Cash and Bob Hope. Now we have Bush, no Cash and no Hope. ”

FROM GERRIT STEYN: THE FART

A fart is a pleasant thing, It gives the belly ease, It warms the bed in winter, And suffocates the fleas.

A fart can be quiet, A fart can be loud, Some leave a powerful, Poisonous cloud

A fart can be short, Or a fart can be long, Some farts have been known To sound like a song…...

A fart can create NINE FOXTROT NEWS 21 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01

A most curious medley, A fart can be harmless, Or silent, and deadly.

A fart might not smell, While others are vile, A fart may pass quickly, Or linger a while…...

A fart can occur in a number of places, And leave everyone there, With strange looks on their faces . From wide-open prairie, To small elevators, A fart will find all of Us sooner or later.

But farts are all bad, Is simply not true- We must never forget….... Sweet old farts like you!

Kinda brings a tear to yo ur eye – right?

FROM BLAUUWBERG CUCASHOP: A Traffic cop pulled a Free State farmer over for speeding. The farmer pleaded that he wasn’t much over the speed limit. But the cop con-tinued to slowly write out the ticket. He brushed a fly off his face. The farmer said, “That sirkelgogga bothering you?” The cop said, “What’s a sirkelgogga?” The farmer said, “That fly – they circle a horse’s ass and we call them sirkel-goggas.” The cop stopped writing, looked at the farmer, and said, “Are you saying that I’m a horse’s ass?” The farmer said, “Never! I have a great respect for officers of the law. I would never think such a thing of one of you okes” The cop carried on writing. After a while the farmer said, “But you can’t fool them flies you know”

FROM DEON POTGIETER: for JACQUES POTGIETER, MONTE CARLO MONACO It all began with an iPhone... March was when my son celebrated his 15th birthday and I got him an iPhone. He just loved it. Who wouldn't? I celebrated my birthday in July and my wife made me very happy when she bought me an iPad. My daughter's birthday was in August so I got her an iPod Touch. September came by so for my wife’s birthday I bought her an iRon. It was around then that the fight started . . . What my wife failed to recognize is that the iRon can be integrated into the home network with the iWash, iCook and iClean. This unfortunately activated the iNag app. Which led me to the iHospital and iGet out Thursday.

NINE FOXTROT NEWS 22 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01

WeWeWe may be the Retired, Fired, Packaged, Bandaged and Kicked in the Arse Sergeants Major/Warrant Officers but we still salute the officers who still acknowledge that it was

the SergeaSergeantnt Major/Warrant Officer who assisted them to achieve their rank and appointment that they held. “STAND EASY,”

HHHave a fantastic week everyone.

RRRowley 9F9F9F

HAVE A FABULOUS WEEK , NINE FOXTROT NEWS 23 MARCH 3 rd 2011 NUMBER 03 / 01

RRRowley 9F9F9F