With my 18th
birthday came the compulsory National Service papers from the South African
Government. These papers were not unexpected. As the youngest of 17 children and
the last living at home with our widowed Mother, it was perhaps going to be
harder for her to wave goodbye to me than it had been when her other sons had
begun their time of service.
My future beckoned
and it was with a sense of excitement and keen anticipation that I made my way
to the Lady Smith Army Base in
New friends.
This could pose a problem; I was Jewish. How would the other members of
this new intake of young army men live, work and communicate with a young Jewish
man? My Father had not been an
overly religious person, but I was a Jew by birth and a Jew in name.
On completion of
all the medical and fitness tests, I was duly inducted as a member of the South
African Army and after initial training, was posted to the Intelligence
Department where my duties were to study all areas of insurgency.
I was sent to a
small base near the border of South West Africa and
My role in the
Intelligence area was to search out, watch and prepare for any information
relating to enemy tactics.
Therefore I was always keen to learn of the enemy’s possible plans for revolts,
mutiny, riots and organizing any possible uprisings. I was taught how to watch
enemy movements and patterns, how to detect clothing not usually worn by the
local people and to try to discover what kind of ammunition they may have
obtained and could use against us.
As well as working
in the Intelligence area, I also assisted in watching and guarding the border.
At the time of my service South Africa was going through a period
of great unrest and we lived with threats and skirmishes where bullets,
mortars, rockets and other machinery of warfare was used.
A battle in this area was not listed as a war as such, but the bullets,
the mortars and the rockets were still as lethal in bringing death and injuries.
Our borders needed
strong protection as Communist Russia who, having already obtained a small
influence, were trying to gain control of other areas and consequently were a
constant threat to our Nation’s stability. Our
army was relied upon to guard and protect our gold and diamonds waiting to be
dug from our rich soil – our wealth which promised our future.
Apartheid brought
its own kind of internal trouble. Hatred and tension were felt and experienced
in many different pockets of our land and under this simmering atmosphere, we
had to ensure our borders were firmly held and securely guarded.
Over a ten year
period, I had lost many friends due to apartheid and bloodied military service
and now it was my turn to help my country. Now I was walking where they had
walked, standing where they had stood and I determined to do my best for their
sakes and for the protection ultimately of many families like my own.
By the time of
arriving at this outpost, I had become used to being called many names in
reference to my religion. The names just rolled from my back yet it still
brought a awareness deep within me that I was different from some that I served
with. We could and did at times,
get drunk and take drugs together but underneath it all, I was separated from
them by being a Jew; we were in a war within a war.
There were some other Jewish men at this
base and so on a Friday evening, we would meet together for prayers. I found
these times together strangely attractive, perhaps it was because in our home we
had never strictly practiced our religion.
There were between
100 and 200 men living in dugouts or bunkers and as we were so far from other
supportive bases, we knew we would have to defend ourselves the best we could if
and when the time came. As I was
with Intelligence and had been promoted to a two striped corporal, my place was
in ‘Head Quarters’, a section cordoned off by further sandbags yet still within
the main base.
I had not been
here very long, when hell, as I perceived it to be, let loose on our base.
SWAPO, South West Africa People’s Organization, launched an attack of mortars,
machine guns and accompanied rifle fire.
Sitting in my
unprotected tent, wearing camouflaged fatigues, leather boots and a bush hat, I
had to lead the men and gauge from which direction the ‘in-coming’ fire was
coming from, work out the ‘out-going’ co-ordinates then pass this information
onto our own mortar crew waiting to retaliate in our defense.
Then a fierce exchange of military power filled a time span that seemed
like hours, yet in reality, was much shorter.
Apart from mortars and rockets, we were issued with R1 and R4 rifles,
Israeli made UZZI’s
and sometimes we
were able to lay our hands on Russian made Kolashnikov rifles.
After this battle,
which was my first main hot contact, I was shaken to my very bones. No amount of
army training can prepare any person for the sudden fear that invades the body
as real, live bullets seek a life, nor for the immediate adrenalin rush that
follows. No one can explain that
‘let down’ feeling when suddenly when the last bullet is fired and a quiet
stillness pervades the scene and how the slightest noise which normally would be
unheard, shouts its voice causing heart beats to quicken in the toughest of men
urging them to continue their charged surveillance.
No one can really explain how hard it is to clear up after such a
confrontation. When the adrenalin
has been spent, lethargy wants to replace it, but there is no time for such an
indulgence. Weapons need to be checked, injuries cared for, ammunition replaced,
there is so much to do that there is hardly time to think of what the living
body needs.
I was very
grateful that in this instance no one had been killed.
Death, to me, held mixed feelings.
If one of our own was killed, I was very sad, as we all were, but if an
enemy was killed, it was my duty to search the remains for relevant and helpful
information that could be used for our benefit.
The smell of still warm blood on mortally wounded bodies rising to meet
my nostrils as I searched for hidden papers, identification marks or tattered
clothing haunted me for many years.
I was also present
when enemy persons were tortured. They were tortured until they either gave
information or died. To me at that
time, death was death, whether it came from a bullet, a mortar or a given method
of torture. When a live enemy is
captured and it is known they may have been the means of killing one or some of
our men, the brain changes. Torture was accepted and was expected.
Hatred has a way of allowing a person to do things that would not be
believed in different circumstances.
The legacy of this work is that the torturer is often left tortured.
When a helicopter
arrived and brought mail it was a wonderful day for all lonely and isolated
soldiers. For a time, war and
killing and fear of being invaded could be forgotten. We could lose ourselves in
reading personal letters from our families, pent up emotions were released when
small parcels arrived from those who were safe back at home.
It was a short period of time when I personally could escape from all
that was around me.
For the two years
I was in the army, I was sent from Camp to Camp.
It was in places like these that I began to drink heavy and indulge in
drugs. Some of the troops knew the
local drug suppliers and for a few hours, we could forget what was happening
around us but at meal times, the ‘Rat Pak’ daily ration food supply never
allowed us to forget where we were!
It consisted of some Bully Beef, condensed milk, dog biscuits and tea and
coffee. As we had no way of purifying the water for drinking, it was fiercely
boiled before we mixed it into our tea or coffee rations.
We refused to think of parasites and other possible contents the water
may host.
Back in
civvie-street after my service days were over, I found it hard to get used to
living a normal life. I felt that
for those two years, I had somehow been left behind and I didn’t seem to be able
to catch up. My marihuana smoking
turned to taking speed. This was one drug that helped me forget what I had seen,
smelt and handled while in the army.
Three years after
returning to the life of a civilian, a friend of mine invited me to attend a
church meeting with him. I had
heard about Jesus and for the first time understood that He was the Messiah and
that He had died for me. I was
familiar with death and understood about dying and knew what the sacrifice of a
life meant. As I came to understand that Jesus died for me, something wonderful
happened within me and a lot of unresolved guilt was released and forgiveness
flowed in its place. I felt
wonderful! My Jewish family was concerned about me though; they questioned me
for some time and then said I could not use this new belief as a crutch to
remove all the emotional pain of being in the army.
One of my brothers
had been a Commando and another in the same field as I had served in and they
knew all about the effects of war on the mind and body.
After a time I realized it was useless arguing with them; they had chosen
to live their life their way, and now I had made a choice to live my life in
this new way where I had found comfort and peace.
Many years have
passed since my army days. At times my mind will have a flash back and guilt,
fear and sweat will knock at my door, but I am learning to cope and pass these
negative feelings over to the Lord.
He is there helping and walking with me and lessening the pain of remembering.
I did not want to
be passive in my loyalty to my country and it was right that I did all that I
did. I have been awarded two medals for serving in the Armed Forces; they are a
reminder of times of pain yet they are a symbol of two very proud years of
service for my country of
What did I learn
from the army? I have learnt not to back out of a situation, rather I stand and
see it through and I learnt to fight as a unit and not alone.
I learnt that in tough times, I am only as good as the man I stand beside
and I now know it is far better not to work outside the “Chain of Command.”
Most important, I have learnt that my life is in God’s hands and I am an
open book before Him. I cannot hide
anything from Him and my memories, my healing of emotions, my present days and
my future are all in His hands and I am very grateful and thankful to be there.
Carla Evans