Between 1967 and 1994 the then-South African Defence Force (SADF) conscripted approximately 600,000 men (mostly Caucasian school-leavers) for compulsory military duty, commonly known as National Service. While the number of books covering South Africa’s campaign in Angola has been growing over the years, most tend to concentrate more on the elite forces and the operations they conducted behind enemy lines. This book rather, is the culmination of memoirs by a regular conscript, chronicling his two-year stint starting in 1979. The content will therefore resonate with a broader readership that’ll identify with many of his experiences. It’ll also provide handy reading for young men who may be considering a career in the military and would appreciate an insight into what to expect.
The author, Emile Wolfaardt, was 18 years old when he reported for his draft. Together with hundreds of other excited and nervous boys he left by train from Johannesburg to Kimberley, where his national service would begin. In this personal memoir he chronicles the next twenty-four months of his life and how his experiences in the SADF shaped his character and matured him from boy to manhood. He was now officially a “troepie”, the name given to persons in training by the SADF. He was uncomfortably aware of the adage that the army would “either man you up or spit you out”.
The Kimberley Commando Base, home to the 11th Commando of the SADF, would be his home base for the next two years. After conclusion of the entry procedures (medical examinations, haircuts, uniforms, kit, etc) the young recruits were transported by Bedford truck to the army base in Jan Kempdorp, a small town in the Northern Cape, for their basic training. Basic training consisted of marching, bungalow inspections, PT, rifle skills and even more marching.
The army base at Jan Kempdorp was also responsible for the security of one of the largest ammunition depots in the southern hemisphere. After daily basic training, the they were expected to guard the ammunition depot by patrolling the perimeter in six-hour shifts. Basic training was rigorous and exhausting and was intended to transform a motley crew of individual recruits into a homogenous group of soldiers who were disciplined and ready to serve the needs of their country without question. Wolfaardt’s intake group was no different and they slowly acquired the fitness and skills necessary to perform in the roles required.
Wolfaardt describes this period in his life with strange and funny incidents that took place around him with a dry sense of humour. Many of the happenings are universal and will be instantly recognised by anyone who was drafted by the SADF at that time, irrespective of where in the country their training took place. For example, punishment often meant that miscreants were ordered to fetch a leaf from a tree some distance away and were then told that they had brought the wrong leaf! But sometimes the shoe was on the other foot, such as the Corporal who was perceived by the troops as not being very bright and was pranked mercilessly. The following conversation illustrates this:
Troepie 1: “Hey Corporal, what is the velocity of the 76.2 round as it comes out of the muzzle of the R1?”
Corporal: “I’m not exactly sure.”
Troepie 2: “Corporal, what is the rate of fire of the R1 on full automatic?”
Corporal: “You’ve got me here, I don’t know.”
Troepie 3: “Corporal, how much does the kit weigh when fully loaded when we run the 2.4km with it?”
Corporal: “That is a good question, I have no idea.”
Troepie 4: “Corporal, do you mind when we ask you these questions?”
Corporal, irritated: “No, of course not, how else will you learn?”
One night, while patrolling the ammunition depot perimeter wall, Wolfaardt found a wild rabbit which he despatched, skinned, and started cooking on a fire he built against the wall. He was caught red handed by the guard commander who, being his nemesis, was very happy to have something to charge him with and finally get rid of a thorn in his flesh. So he charged him with everything he could think of, including treason (for building a fire against an ammunition depot). Luckily, the charges somehow “disappeared”.
At the conclusion of their basic training, the recruits returned to Kimberley and started preparing for border duty. They were sent to Etale base, which was in the operational area in South West Africa, 15km from the Angolan border and also used by 32 Battalion. They were fairly safe within the base, but to venture outside alone would be extremely dangerous and could lead to death or, even worse, to capture. However, Wolfaardt would eventually realise that, during his time on the Border, more soldiers ended up dying from non-enemy fire than from actual enemy fire.
Their whole platoon was required to patrol the border area on foot for four to six days at a time, carrying their R1, kit, water and ratpacks, with “Black is Beautiful” camouflage cream covering their faces. There were very few enemy contacts, but they were constantly aware that danger was lurking and it was just a matter of time.
When their first contact with the enemy occurred, all the training suddenly made sense. The enemy fled and the young soldiers were left with shock, disbelief and a welling sense of pride at a job well done.
After their border duty was completed, the young soldiers returned to Kimberley to continue their national service. Wolfaardt was granted leave and went to Cape Town to visit his mother. They were having lunch in a restaurant when the Noon Gun was fired. The young soldier, who had never heard it before and had recently been on the Border, reacted instinctively by diving to the floor and protecting his head.
Back in Kimberley and once again subject to the strict rules and regulations of national service, the young bloods found it difficult to readjust and settle into the same old routine. One night Wolfaardt decided to AWOL (leave the base without permission) and visit a night club in town. So they sneaked out, but on their return they ran into a platoon of campers (persons who had completed their national service and were called up for short-period “camps”) who were on a night training exercise. Unfortunately they were converging on the only spot where the base could be re-entered undetected. They touched a tripwire and were caught, handed over to the Military Police (MPs) and conveyed to the local military prison. But, as usual, luck was on Wolfaardt’s side, the MP on duty turned out to be a buddy from the border. The charges disappeared.
Their behaviour became so bad that they were referred to as “die vrot kolle”, the “rotten spots” of the base. The conscripts still had six months of national service to complete. Clearly, something had to be done. Those, such as Wolfaardt, with military heavy duty driving licences were sent to Pretoria to drive and deliver various military vehicles to bases in the operational area in then-South West Africa. On one occasion his Samil 100 brakes failed, but he managed to bring the vehicle to a stop without colliding with anything. To alleviate boredom, Wolfaard sometimes drove on top of the vehicle with his feet hanging down into the cab and his feet on the steering wheel of his Buffel.
After transporting vehicles to where they needed to go, Wolfaardt was then sent to the Makatini Flats in Natal to drive water laden Bedford trucks to the remote villages and rural communities there. He only had three months of national service left and saw this as being much more interesting than returning to Kimberley.
Finally his service came to an end and he could return to normal civilian life. He felt a dark sense of loss as he realised that the experience had affected him profoundly. He was a different person from the innocent young boy who had climbed onto the train in Johannesburg and who became the hardened man who was discharged. He had learned discipline and self respect, while making lifelong friendships with buddies who became as close as brothers. He was proud of some of the things he had achieved and at the same time ashamed of some of the things he had done and could never share with anyone. In his own words “Yes it was the best time of my life… that I never want to do again!”
Published by Malherbe Uitgewers Publishers (Pty) Ltd
First Edition 2024
ISBN 978 – 1 – 7764622 – 7 – 8
