BARMY ARMY FUNNY SIDE
Life will always have its quirks and idiosyncrasies: No matter how good or bad we behave, our rank and society, those idiosyncrasies will always stick their heads out to be counted and in doing so only chaos will prevail. So, too, life in the army and at troopie level. 1970: A senior officer returns to camp one night good and solidly sizzled. His driver is just as “cool” as the officer, and that was until they arrived at the camp entrance boom gate. A troopie, I dare say, not myself though, is armed with an R1 rifle and a comfortable magazine of rounds( Not that scope)
The scope of his job was to prevent entry of foreign persons and vehicles. The driver commands the guard to open the bloody gates or else. The order is disobeyed and the guard takes up a position corresponding to the radiator or the officers vehicle and plants himself into the tar. The vehicle lurches forward to intimidate the guard who is fighting for country and president. And so the bayonet penetrates the radiator in a cloud of invectives and steam.
By then the invectives were flying fast and furious and included the usual batch of female genitalia. Help was gained by hollering at the next shift to take over and get the officer onto his two legs. The guard, being a rooky received a medal for bravery.
Now that was not too bad, was it? My platoon was supposedly the worst platoon in the camp: some of the instructors had their eyes upon us and swore they would pull us right (whatever that meant.) They pulled left then right but never got us into a straight line. We were laughing at these okes that were working for country and president.
When we were marching and came to a stop the whole world stopped too. Now try to restart 36 beblixemed rookies then you have a riot or a rebellion on your hands.
My most hated job was to pick up cigarette stompies and throw them in a bucket, usually the fire bucket. Then we would rake the ground with a broom while 99% sat without a broom at hand. The cigarette ploy was to rile those that did not smoke until a wise guy returned a burning butt to Die korporaaaal. Well ok, two days of pt did the guy good.
One Thursday it was our turn to have much needed haircuts. Now haircuts mean standing in a line and having others break into the line in front of the much injured YOU. Now this Oke from SWA did not quite like the arrangement and called the Sergeant major and demanded a place in the line but in front of the line.
That was the day a SM almost died when this rookie faced up to him offering the same as he was supposed to receive. Outcome: 3 days on kitchen duty. The poor SM had a problem raising his head for a few days. A rookie goes on his first pass and is promptly returned a few days later sizzled out of his mind due to his intake of weed. He was returned to civvy street proclaimed as unfit for military duty.
I paid R5-00 for a bottle of klippies and the courier turned up with bottle and one wee dram inside. These things run on alcohol. My first pass was supposed to be a hike to PE and successfully turned up in Parys at 0300. We did arrive in Voortrekker hoogte late on the Sunday morning.
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