And the Lion and the Lamb lie down together - 12. Chapter 11

André Jordaan had just finished his Field Medic training. The position as Medical Orderly at the SA Infantry School was his first “real” job in the SA Medical Services. This was actually a six weeks’ practical phase, before he would return to No.1 Military Hospital for Advanced Field Medical Training.

André was short and slightly chubby, with midnight black hair and a pair of twinkling blue eyes. He was also one of the leading sources of gossip in Training Command. Vaatjie had taken one look at André and immediately decided that he had found a kindred soul.

“So what is the latest?” Vaatjie asked André during afternoon rounds.

“I don’t really know. This morning the colonel had been running around as if his tail was on fire. Even the roll call parade was cancelled. It seems that the RSM and that corporal of yours might be in deep shit. As far as I know, your peleton is still confined to barracks. My shift ends after supper, so I’ll go do a bit of snooping and let you know later on.”

Major General Otto, Chief of Training Command, was not amused.

“You tell me that you did not see this fiasco coming?” he demanded. “You know that your instructors are sub standard and you have no measures in place to monitor their performance. What really bothers me is that a high profile national serviceman dropped through the cracks. Private Nel should never have been assigned to the Infantry – he should have been assigned to the air force – where he would not have been the army’s problem. Your little rebellion has now escalated to the point where it costs careers, Colonel. Do you have any idea how serious this matter is?”

Colonel Viljoen fidgeted uncomfortably under the steely glare levelled at him.

“To be fair, General, I had no idea that a high profile recruit was placed under my command.”

General Otto interrupted venomously. “Doesn’t your Personnel Officer do his work, Colonel?” He indicated Arrie Nel’s personnel file, lying on his desk. The word sensitief (sensitive), was printed in large red letters on the cover. “Military Intelligence noted Private Nel’s relationship to the President, in this very file, two years ago, when he registered for National Service. Your unit received this file a month ago, three weeks before the recruits reported for duty. Yet, nobody cared about the sensitivity notice on the file. Nobody thought of inquiring why a high profile NDP (Nasionale Dienspligtige – National Serviceman) was assigned to an Infantry training facility. You are aware of the protocol regarding high profile servicemen, Colonel?”

“Yes, General”. Colonel Viljoen wisely decided that now was not the time for excuses. However, when he got back to camp, a certain adjutant and the whole personnel office would be explaining themselves - thoroughly. Colonel Viljoen was an expert at spreading blame. He firmly believed that the further the blame was spread, the more diluted it became. He silently prayed that this unholy mess would not affect his own career.

“What do you propose we should do to contain the damage, Colonel?”

Colonel Viljoen realised that General Otto was also a master at spreading blame. The situation was getting very tricky now. Colonel Viljoen could emerge from the mess smelling like roses, or he could cause irreparably damage to his career. He had to be extremely careful. He decided to be honest, but to make General Otto aware that he also had political influence.

“RSM Struwig is held incommunicado in his office. I have confined Second Lieutenant Basson, Corporal du Plooy and the whole of Peleton 44 to their barracks. The Military Police unit that was involved in the altercation is still on active duty.”

“What about the injured troops?”

“Lance Corporal Schoombee has been admitted to 1 Military Hospital. He is expected to be discharged within the next three to five days. The three injured recruits are in our sick bay. The doctor told me that all three should be discharged by tomorrow or the day after.”

“This lance corporal is the military policeman with the crushed windpipe?”

“Yes, General. He was apparently subduing Private van Dyk when Private Lubbe grabbed him by the throat. They had to club Lubbe down to make him release Schoombee.”

“What a pity that he did not save his aggression for the training programme. It would have served him well. He might even have earned a commission. All right, Colonel. We have now established that you know where your troops are, but you have no control over your unit’s admin. Did you know that a senior officer, aspiring to wear the swords of a general on his shoulders, should be a brilliant administrator above all else? It seems that you still have a way to go, don’t you think? Now, Colonel, what are you going to do about this situation?”

“Private Nel has already been re-assigned to the Personnel Service Corps. We do not have to worry about him at this time. I shall personally extend my apologies to his family for the scandalous manner in which their child was treated by the army.”

Colonel Viljoen permitted himself a cunning smile. It was time to remind General Otto just who he really was.

“As you know, I’m the chairman of the Eldoraigne (an upmarket suburb where many of the top Defence Force officers have homes) National Party Community Committee. Because of this, I do have the privilege of contacting President Botha directly. I shall apologise to him for the army’s atrocious treatment of Mrs. Botha’s nephew and assure him that this will never happen again.”

General Otto immediately understood that Colonel Viljoen was busy shifting the blame away from him, onto the army itself. He reacted to the veiled reminder of Colonel Viljoen’s political influence with a smile of his own. “It seems that you gave some thought to the matter, Colonel. What do you propose should be done with the recruits and all the other people involved?”

“The recruits defied the system. To prevent any reoccurrence of this, they should be dealt with to the letter of the law. Private Nel is not part of the group anymore, so we can court marshal the others and prosecute them as stipulated in the RVD (Reglement van Dissipline – Military Disciplinary Code - the set of laws governing military personnel). It seems that both RSM Struwig and Corporal du Plooy assaulted some of the recruits. We should prosecute both of them as well. I have found no evidence that Second Lieutenant Basson was involved in any irregularities. He is an officer after all. His only failing was that he was unlucky enough to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“So Colonel, you want to apologise to the Nels and the President. Then you want to court marshal twenty-nine raw recruits, a senior warrant officer and a corporal. The man responsible for the recruits is blameless. His only failing is that this catastrophe happened on his watch. I assume that you include yourself in the ranks of the blameless. You were also at the wrong place at the wrong time. Am I correct?”

“Yes, General, you are absolutely correct. I firmly believe that everybody overreacted. We should have matters back on an even keel within the week.” Colonel Viljoen allowed himself another self-congratulatory smile.

“You will do nothing of the sort!” thundered General Otto. "You will not court marshal a soul! Do I make myself clear, Colonel?”

“But, General, these people defied army discipline”, interjected Colonel Viljoen.

“I expect you to keep quiet when I speak, Colonel. I am your superior and you will carry out my orders to the letter. Do you understand, Viljoen? To the letter!”

Colonel Viljoen could only nod helplessly.

“Firstly, these twenty-nine recruits that you want to bring on charges are all friends of Private Nel. Many of them are frequent visitors to the Botha household. I do not think you, or I for that matter, would survive the furore if these people were court marshalled. The President is already baying for blood, Viljoen, and you want to aggravate matters. Do you have a death wish, or what?”

“Secondly, if you prosecute that RSM and the corporal, while letting the troops go scot-free, you are setting yourself up for one of the most embarrassing acquittals this army has ever seen. Even a third rate lawyer would have them back on their posts in the morning, and with a massive compensation payment for false arrest to boot.”

“Yes Viljoen, I know what you are thinking. They are all getting off scot-free and there is not a thing we can do about it. Yes, it is true. If you and your people did your work properly, this would never have happened. You are to blame, Colonel - you and your lazy, good-for-nothing subordinates!”

Colonel Viljoen turned purple with anger. He started sputtering. Before he could get out a coherent word, General Otto held up his hand.

“What I can promise you, however, is that your precious lieutenant, the RSM and the corporal will be transferred to the operational area. They will leave tomorrow morning on the first Flossie (Hercules troop transport aircraft) out. All three of them will form part of the vanguard of every offensive planned in the near future. I think we can safely guarantee each of them a splendid military funeral within the next six months. Peleton forty-four will follow them as soon as they have completed their basic training. The army has a long memory, Colonel, and holds grudges for an even longer time. It is a pity that we cannot replace you on such short notice. Picturing you in an oak coffin has been the high point of my morning.”

Colonel Viljoen was incoherent with rage and humiliation. He wanted to smash his fist into the smug face across the table. He struggled to contained his anger.

“Oh yes, before I forget. This morning the Defence Force had a meeting with the National Party Dagbestuur (the committee running the day-to-day operations of the National Party). We requested that they appoint another chairman for the Eldoraigne Community Committee, as you are too busy with military matters to meet all your commitments. The Dagbestuur graciously granted our request. It seems that the President will not be taking any phone calls from you after all, Colonel.”

“Now you must run along. I have wasted far too much time on your incompetence. Close the door behind you.” General Otto did not even bother to acknowledge Colonel Viljoen’s shaky salute.

The sick bay’s supper was considerably better than the supper served in the Privates’ Mess. This was because the NCO mess prepared the patients’ meals. The patients were served roasted leg of lamb, roast potatoes, caramelised carrots, string beans and beetroot salad. Desert consisted of canned peaches with vanilla ice cream. Johan could not finish his potatoes, but Vaatjie, the human vacuum cleaner, was on hand to lend a helping hand – or gullet in this case.

“Ooh Man, this reminds me of Sunday dinner on the farm,” Vaatjie sighed contentedly. “Just as I got used to this place, I have to return to the bloody bungalow. It just is not fair.” Vaatjie switched to full sulk mode.

“Come in, Guys, come in. They are in Ward Two”, came André Jordaan’s voice from outside. Suddenly the ward was awash with people. Peleton forty-four had finally come to visit their sick friends.

“At long last”, exclaimed Vaatjie. “We thought you had forgotten all about us. Some friends you lot turned out to be.”