Travel Tips

81257214BG
You have been requested to report for National Service on the 7th of July 1983.
I had my call up papers in my hand and thought freedom,but alas it was hell.
I would be ruled no more by my parents, but by the South African Government,It was an eerie feeling,i couldn't beleive it,i was scared,but not afraid,i was going todo my duty for my beloved country South africa.

It was a cold winter's day when I went to Sturrock Park to "Klaar in" on July7 1983, my mother, brother Graham and father came with. Before we even got there, I was nervous,I was not ready for this,I could have studied more I had been at Technical College.I was 17.

While we were waiting on the grass, at least 4 Police vans arrived, our kit was searched for drugs, weapons ,alchohol and any other illegal substances that were against the law, if you had any of these you would have them confiscated and you would be arrested there and then ",Bliksem was i lussing a dop"! I was so nervous.

There were three trains lined up ready to take us away to our far away destination Phalaborwa.
We spent most of the journey on the train, trying to make friends,the train trip was no holiday train,we were all packed into the coaches and kit was laying in the passages and there really was no place to be comfortable,there must of been at least 3000 guys packed into these three trains and all mixed,English and Afrikaans,that was really a tiring journey up North to where we were headed.

When we arrived at Phalaborwa, the shouting started, whistles blowing, we were ordered into waiting Samil 50’s, Sardine Deluxe style, This I believe is normally known as ‘The Roofie Ride’, very uncomfortable . When we arrived at 7 SAI, we unloaded onto the parade ground, where the RSM Steenkamp and the Colonel Swanepoel, OC of 7 SAI welcomed us,We were then divided up in platoons and marched off to our bungalows.
And so began our new life,

The Camp itself was actually rather nice with a duck pond, RSM’s fruit orchard, nice barracks, all in neat rows, the Kruger Park on one side, bush on the other. It was only in a day or two that I discovered why it was so pleasant to look at. I shall never forget the faces of those who had arrived before us, as we marched off in our civvies, to our Barracks, we passed a group of Roofies in Brown overalls sweeping the paths, doing the gardens etc. What got to others and myself was the totally blank, almost brain-dead look they had on their faces. They had been doing onderhoud for about a week. That, more than anything, made me want to run away. We were the reason that the bloody Camp looked so good. We had to keep it that way; "Onderhoud" Base Maintenance, it became our nightmare. Every morning after the morning "OpFok", it was onderhoud, clean the reeds out of the focking duck pond, clean out the Rooikats cages, it was something that never went away, even during operational duties in SA & SWA, we would have to do base maintenance. During our off periods, as one prick of a PF Lieutenant said, "You are paid ( R5-19 / day) to work from 5am - 8pm, so even if I have to make up work, you will work!"
One thing i will never forget about the camp is that when we arrived there,there was no green grass at all only little stones that had to be raked neatly everyday,
I must say when we cleared out after our two year stint the grass that we had to plant when we cleared in was a beautiful carpet of green,i will never forget that picture in my mind,but the green ,green ,grass of home was always a welcome to me,Fok the camps grass.

We were run down to collect our kit and Rifles, Loaded up we then had to run back to the barracks, about 1,5 km along the road, I must add in here, that this was a standard SADF action called "Hurry up and wait", it was also an early preview of what was to become the norm. We ran everywhere, unless drilling, even though during most drilling we ended up running around any suitable object, for each mistake or for bad timing.

The following day, we were roused at 5 a.m., to whistles being blown, shouting and beds with slow wakers being over turned,we had had to pack all Civvie clothes, Bags etc. away the night before in the storage locker, and into our overalls with webbelts and boots, we went, our standard clothing for the next 8 months, ugly as hell, but extremely practical, buttons instead of zips, made it easy to take a p1ss in but a bummer to take a shiit.
We were then sent off to get our hair cut, army style No 2. Luckily my mom cut my hair "PISSPOT" style before i left home,you should of seen some of these characters looking like girls when they went in and nearly bare naked after they had been to the barber.

Our daily training schedule was as follows: Wake up at 4 a.m., camouflage ("Black is beautiful", tiger stripes, grass put in bushhat, wet, sweaty stinky overalls, web-belt, battle jacket, clean rifle, all kit in battle jacket could not make a sound when shook (that included dogtags we used the rubber bands, from the AP-65s to wrap around the tags), 4:30 a.m. inspection, still dark normally done with a torch, Opfok, because cammo, rifle not right/clean, kit makes noise or just because... 5:15 a.m. coffee and rusk, down 2L of water to prevent dehydration, 5:30 a.m. loaded on vehicle, normally Samil 50, 5:45 at one of the 7 "Baans" ranges, 6:00 a.m. re-cammoed, ready for training. Lecture till 6:30-6:45 a.m., about strategies, use of range, daily tasks etc, load magazines/weapons, form up for section/platoon attack, do attack Fire & Movement +- 5-10 min. Something was wrong with attack, missed sniper/bunker/enemy behind cover etc, run back to start, Opfok, reload weapons, form up, F & M, Opfok, till 11:30 am. Brunch, 1/4 `Fire-bucket’ of juice, very little food, between a handful and a bit more if we were lucky, about 250-350g of food, Re-Cammo, back to the range or rarely if we were lucky, another lecture and discussion of what we were doing wrong.
We did this sort of training non-stop all day, every day (except Sundays), with of course the constant Opfokkies,

After a rather heart-stopping night flight, we landed at Mavinga, a UNITA Base in the middle of ***ing nowhere. A dirt landing strip, with a couple of corrugated buildings around, We unloaded all our kit onto Kwevoels, boarded the waiting vehicles, Ratel 90’s, 20’s and a mixture of Kwe’s and buffels, and then we were off again. Most of us couldn’t sleep, we had been briefed, we were going to the (Western Front), Cuito Cuanavale. Part of that briefing entailed what to do, if we were captured alive, basically Name Rank, Force Number etc, we were then told by certain rank, that we may as well not be heroes, just tell them everything, because as it was put, "You know fock-all anyway".