Main picture: In the Army in 3SAI Battalion during 1971 in Oudshoorn

Prologue

The decrepit Army Bedford truck noisily made its way into the unknown with its cargo of twenty troops aboard. With its back flap also tied down, its cargo was cocooned within its own world.

The reason for our for these measures was that our platoon was going to be the enemy – a band of terrorists – for a large scale Army Exercise somewhere in South Africa.

The destination was classified but there were two dead give-aways: we were heading west all the time & we had a map of our destination: Bloubergstrand.

The further that we drove westward, the more miserable the weather became. Obviously we were driving into a cold front. The rain lashed down but we were oblivious to that as we slept upright squashed like sardines onto the hard uncomfortable benches of the Bedford.

Over the whine of the engine & the noise of the wind attacking the tarpaulin, conversation was impossible. Some remained awake & chatted idly to fellow travellers.

 

A Miserable Arrival

At 2am the command was given to debus & find the enemy. The back flap was temporarily removed & as the vehicle drove we had to exit the vehicle. It was a harsh introduction into a wet cold world as we jumped & fell into unseen puddles & pools of water. Combined with the driving rain, we were quickly soaked.

 

Being one of the lucky ones, the patch of ground onto which I fell was solid ground & not a patch of mud or water.

With visibility at 10 metres & not knowing where we were, the unanimous decision was to camp exactly where we were. For inclement weather, the army had issued us with a thin nylon raincoat & a huge nylon sheet which could be formed into an extemporised tent of some description.

With haste, bivouacs of all manner of shapes were hastily erected between the bushes. Those that had elected not to bring these nylon sheets along faced a miserable night in the rain within their raincoats.

Ration packs were opened. They contained tins. There were tins of sausages, tins of beans & the Army’s favourite – tins of jam. Most of us immediately discarded the jam as they were of no use without bread. As there was no way in which to heat these meals, a huge tin of peas had to be eaten cold.

Sharing tins was the obvious solution but that meant leaving the relative warmth of one’s bivouac & bartering with one’s fellow troops; not a pleasant prospect.

By 5am most people were up already either because the water had inveigled itself into their “tent” or due to not having any method of protecting themselves from the rain.

The solution was to walk along this dirt track & see where it led us. As we had normal SA Army radios with us, we were able to hear reports of troop movements but were not able to identify the area where they were because their grid references were not on our maps.

Slowly the sun arose & with it, the rain abated. A blue sky appeared but the intermittent clouds threatened more rain later in the day. On cresting a hillock, the blue of the sea could be observed in the distance. Far in the distance to the south, Table Mountain culd be seen covered in a white table cloth of mist.

We were close to the Mother City, Cape Town. The map indicated that the name of the general area was called Bloubergstrand. We could not position ourselves accurately on the map but we were not lost anymore.

 Ambush nets unusual “enemy”

The whole area 40 years ago did not contain any houses or any other forms of civilisation. The map indicated that there were isolated farmhouses but not much else.

Rightly or wrongly, the decision was taken to stick to the road as the SA Forces were probably motorised. Eventually the presence of SA troops would be found by this method.

At 10am, the whine of a Land Rover could be heard. It had to be officers from the SA Forces. We formed a classic ambush position with a stop group further along the road.

The Land Rover slowly made its way along the sandy road with its engine revving hard every time that a sandy patch was encountered.

Eventually it drew ineluctably closer. It drove through the Killing Zone.

Twenty nine rifles & one MAG opened fire. Thunder flashes were thrown. The two passengers stepped out of the vehicle & refused to play dead. They were an elderly white couple!

Between apologising for accidentally attacking them, the map was extracted from its case. With the map opened out on the bonnet of the Land Rover, we requested assistance in locating the closest SA Forces.

The kindly couple politely pointed out where the main bases were. In addition they were able to pinpoint exactly where we were on the map.

VOILA! Mission accomplished.

Well almost!

The Spotter Planes

The sound of Army spotter planes could be heard in the sky. Having SA Army radios with us, we switched to the Army-Air Force channels. There we distinctly heard the reports of the spotter plane as it flew an up & down pattern in the sky.

As we crouched under the small wind-driven bushes on the slopes of the mountain, we heard the fateful words: “Tracks spotted along the road on grid reference xxxxyyyy”. We had been spotted. Apparently the local forces had been requested not to walk on the roads & tracks so our tracks were a dead give-away.

It was time to move. We also required a replenishment of water. The only option, we decided, was to march due west towards the coast away from the SA Forces as fast as possible. A hectic pace was maintained. In the distance behind us, trucks could be heard moving. Obviously squads of troops were being deployed to follow the tracks that had been found.

After a two hour dash, we were several miles from the coast. The spotter planes were out in force. Every time that they approached our vicinity, we would hide under the increasingly stunted trees.

With the SA troops hot on our heels & the spotter planes overhead preventing movement, we decided to make a last stand. A two metre high sand dune covered with bushes would be our ambush position.

From our bird’s eye view, the steady approach of a platoon could be heard. Wearing SA Army uniforms, the only distinguishing factor was our large blue arm band.

The forward section of the platoon was spotted. One section peeled to our left to attack from the rear & the other two sections attacked frontally. The pop & crackle of dummy rounds could be heard. The louder pop of the sustained fire of a Bren came from a flank.

Then the section was at the fence. As each soldier in turn, climbed the wooden fence post, I aimed at the person & fired.

None fell.

Instead they stormed up the sand dune.

In ignominy we surrendered, beaten by the SA Forces. We were marched off to waiting trucks & taken to the main camp.

 

Prisoner of War

This base could not have been more than 2 to 3 kms from where we had ambushed the unexpected couple.

Several of us were selected for interrogation at the Cape Town Highlanders Regimental quarters in Cape Town itself. The rest of us were marched off to a make-shift prisoner of war camp, a huge tent surrounded with barbed wire.

Cramped in portion of this tent, we spent the next few days waiting for the exercise to be completed before driving back to the Oudshoorn Military Base.