(Author: Gary Nowosenetz, Vol. 76, #3, Spring 2021)
The 1 Medium Battery 4th Field Regiment
We did Basics in Potchefstroom in 1975. Afterwards, we were divided up into three groups and trained in how to operate and deploy the 5.5 (140-mm guns. The first group was the gunners. They were trained to operate the guns. Ten gunners were assigned to each gun. Four guns comprised a troop and two troops comprised a battery. Each gun was towed by a Magirus Deutz gun tractor. These were driven by the trained drivers and signalers, who comprised the second group.
The third group were trained as technical assistants and were called the TAs. I was a TA. Each troop had one TA van with four TAs in the van. The TA’s job was to plot and calculate bearings and ranges for the laying of the guns. From this group of trained TAs, two OP assistants were selected, of which I was one. After gunnery training, the Battery went on artillery manoeuvers in the Kalahari for two weeks. As hard as we tried, we could never hit the target. I think that the instructors just gave up on us, not only due to our poor ability, but because South Africa was not involved in a conventional war, but in a counter- insurgency conflict at that time. After artillery training, we left our guns and went on a COIN OP training course. Thereafter we were deployed on the border for two weeks as infantry at Kwando Base Camp, 10km from Katimo Mulilo. From there we were flown to Grootfontein, where we were reunited with the guns and sent into Angola on Operation Savannah.
Build-up to Operation Savannah
In early September 1975, we boarded a Hercules troop transporter plane at Waterkloof Air Base and flew to Mpacha Airforce Base. From Mpacha, we went by Bedford to Kwando Base Camp near the South West Africa-Angola border.
After two weeks of our usual patrols, we were informed one morning that the minister of Defence PW Botha would be coming to inspect the base and address the troops. We were to prepare a firepower demonstration for him to show how well prepared we were to carry out our duties. All of us were issued with two hand grenades and an extra four full magazines of ammunition. An hour later, two choppers landed outside our base. I saw PW alight from one of the choppers, accompanied by generals and other senior officers. He wore an open-necked shirt with his usual checked jacket and hat. He was driven to the centre of the base and all the troops were sent to their firing positions on the sandbags surrounding the base. On the order “Fire!” we all let loose. We threw hand grenades, mortars opened up and machine guns fired. After about three minutes we were ordered to cease firing and gathered around the Minister to hear what he had to say. He spoke to us in both Afrikaans and English and told us, “More gaan julle manne in Angola veg”. A general pep talk followed, after which he climbed back into the chopper and flew off.
The following morning, thirty troops in Samel trucks and four Eland armoured cars drove out of the base, accompanied by a water bowzer, a fuel truck, some medics, a mortar crew, two or three machine gun crews and an ammunition truck. I was one of the troops in this convoy. We drove out the gate, straight over the border and into south-eastern Angola. The commanding officer was 2nd Lt Bernie Pols and I was his radio operator.
We drove for two days straight through the bush, not following any road and at one point passing a pride of lions until we reached the banks of the River Bambangandu. There we set up camp. The object of our mission was to neutralize any SWAPO members fleeing the civil war towards South West Africa. They would tend to walk along the riverbank. On the first day, under the watchful eyes of two manned machine guns, our troops went down to the river to swim and wash. The next day, while the guys were swimming, one of our machine guns opened up. They had spotted a float of crocodiles swimming down the river towards our troops in the water. The guys flew out of the river as fast as they could! However, this event did not deter them from getting back into the water, although not before two hand grenades were first exploded in the river. This led to us eating vast quantities of fish for every meal.
After about three weeks and a few minor, brief contacts with SWAPO, we were ordered to return to a rendezvous on the cutline. There we were collected by an assortment of vehicles and transported to Mpacha Airforce Base. We were stationed there for a week to rest and eat. No military parades took place and we were basically on sabbatical.
A week later we were flown by Hercules to Grootfontein, where we resumed our artillery duties. On our second day there, we were called into a large hangar. The doors were locked. MPs surrounded the sides of the hangar. A stage had been erected and a dozen or so senior officers and generals walked onto it. We were told that we would be asked to volunteer for a secret mission into Angola and given the option to stay and volunteer or to leave immediately. If we chose to stay, we would have to sign a nondisclosure document prohibiting us from speaking about anything pertaining to this mission for thirty to forty years. Four or five troops got up and left. I, however, was willing to go on this boy-scout adventure.
A row of tables stood at the back of the hangar, at which sat a number of clerks with the document we had to sign. Before signing, I briefly looked through the document, which stated that we would be issued with foreign battle uniforms and that our South African kit would be stored at Grootfontein, to be collected on our return. We had to hand in our dog tags but were allowed to wear our religious necklaces. The form also stated that we were volunteering and had to fill in our name and service number. We were then instructed to write our last will and testament. I was just out of school and owned nothing except a few Rands of army pay, which I left to my parents. We were told that we would be handsomely reimbursed for our efforts – the amount to be calculated at double the danger pay allowance.[1]
After doing the paperwork, we were issued with one set of hessian cloth green uniforms and new ankle tackies. The gun crews were given Chinese steel helmets. Our SA kit was handed in for storage. We were told to ensure that none of our items had a “Made in SA” label. We were ordered to speak only English between ourselves and when using radio communication. This was a difficult feat as we had been trained almost entirely with Afrikaans commands.
We headed into Angola, towing the guns. A few days later, we arrived at Sa Da Bandera and overnighted on the airport runway. The next day we set up the guns and a few ranging shots were fired to test and calibrate them. Thereafter, I can remember driving through Cela. Some small battles must have taken place before reaching the area near Bridge 14.
Battle for Bridge 14 – An Artillery Perspective
At the start of this event, the artillery component on the central battle group, of which my unit was a part, was made up of a troop of four 5.5inch artillery guns. Each gun was manned by ten men and a GPO officer operating in the TA van. There were three additional TA men to plot the enemy co-ordinates. The GPO officer at the time was Lt Enslin Beetge, the battery commander was Lt Johan Potgieter and his 2IC was 2nd Lt Bernie Pols. We had two OP teams for the troop. One team would go out on an OP lasting three or four days, while the other team rested. This alternating of teams carried on for months before the Battle for Bridge 14 and after.
Around 1 December 1975, Lt Potgieter and Lt Liebenberg were sent up Hippo Hill, which overlooked Bridge 14 and enemy lines. On about 7 December, 2nd Lt Pols and I were told that we would have to go and relieve Lt’s Potgieter and Liebenberg as they had run out of rations, water and radio batteries. We were told to take twenty spare magazines and rations and water for three to four days. In addition, we took two hand grenades and two spare radio batteries and full battle packs. Before sunrise on 8 December, we were taken by Landrover and dropped off in the vicinity of Hippo Hill. We had one outdated map of the area and a list of codes to use on the radio. We were not allowed to wear dogtags but were allowed to wear a necklace with a religious symbol. Bernie wore his St Christopher and me, being Jewish, my Star of David. The weather was wet, with intermittent rain and generally poor visibility. We walked in a westerly direction through pineapple fields and banana plantations, which were thick with fruit and in some places 2m high. After about 2km we began the gradual ascent, moving in an easterly direction. We had been given a rendezvous point to meet with Potgieter’s OP team, which was stationed halfway up Hippo Hill. At about 3.30pm, we established contact on the radio and met up a few minutes later. Potgieter gave us his binoculars and a vague registration of the enemy targets. We reached the summit at last light. Due to poor weather and visibility, we were unable to identify any enemy targets before nightfall.
That night at around 7.30pm, a fire-works display erupted in the pitch dark below us. Thirty seconds later, the radio went. It was Enslin Beetge screaming that our gun positions were under fire. We tried desperately to get our guns to bear on what we presumed were the enemy targets, with no visible landmarks to help us identify the enemy firing positions. After ten minutes of incessant bombardment the commandant, Cmdt Joffel van der Westhuizen, came on the radio to me and said, “As jy nie daardie teikens uitwis nie, gaan hulle vir ons almal doodskiet” (“If you can’t detect those targets, they’ll shoot us all dead”). All of a sudden, the enemy fire ceased. The issue with this first engagement was that we could not distinguish between our shells landing and theirs being fired.
The whole night, we lay concealed in the rain, overlooking the enemy’s position. We dozed in stop-starts. Shortly before dawn Bernie shook me awake. We peered out through the mist and rain looking for movement. To my right, about 500m away towards the north-east of Hippo Hill, I could make out Bridge 14, which had been totally destroyed. Looking north, we could make out the Cuban positions. It became apparent that in front of us was a huge enemy deployment that far outnumbered our troops. That’s when Bernie said to me that if they got across the bridge and if we didn’t win the battle, we would be “goners”. At that stage I still did not know what the command element intended for us to do.
Then the enemy opened up fire at all our positions with ferocity. Enemy rounds were going over our heads as our gun positions lay much further back. They had obviously registered our gun positions before we had occupied them. Their fire was incredibly accurate. We started to return fire, but our eight 25lbs (88mm) guns were totally outranged. The maximum range of the 25lb gun was 12km while the maximum range of our 5.5 guns was 18km on charge super. We did try to add in increment which gave us roughly a 21km range, but was not accurate because the propellant was measured manually. The issue with increment was that it also increased barrel wear dramatically. We were slowly able to knock out the enemy targets close to the bridge using the 5.5s. There were so many targets that we used a system of one gun per target. Far into the distance, the Cuban BM21s suddenly opened up a salvo. What we saw was termed “the red eye”, rising up out of the mist coming towards us. At that point, Bernie said to me “Look at that!” Twenty seconds later we heard the rockets passing over our heads. The target was our gun positions. That is when we sent the warning over the radio “Gate toe”. Salvo after salvo rained down on our positions. We could estimate how long it took from the time that the rocket was fired till the time it hit its target and we would inform the GPO over the radio. They had approximately 25 seconds to take cover.
At that point we tried to reach the BM21s but were hopelessly outranged. It was almost impossible for one person to continuously concentrate on focusing on looking through the binoculars, as the salvos were coming from different distances away. We adopted a system where we would swap the single pair of binoculars that we had between the two of us every thirty minutes or so. We realized that we would never reach the BM21s positions due to the limitation of the range of our guns. Bernie came up with the idea to leap frog the guns. The range specification of the 5.5s was probably known to the enemy. The range specification in the operation manual states that the rate of fire of the 5.5 gun is one round per minute. The enemy must have known this. The idea was that one gun at a time would pack up and move forward 2km or 3km and while that was happening, the other three guns would increase their fire rate to one round every fifteen seconds. And so, one by one, we managed to move the troop of guns much closer to the enemy than they thought we were. This exercise must have taken a good hour and a half. During this time, the gun crews of the firing three guns were able to maintain the fire rate to make it appear to the enemy as if all four guns were at the original firing position. This was a Herculean task as the guns were heavy, weighing seven tons each. Each projectile weighed 45kg. The gun crew procedure followed was that immediately after a round was fired, the gun chamber would be swabbed down with water and the troop aiming the gun re-aimed the gun while the next projectile was being rammed down the barrel. Then the propellant was inserted and a new fuse was put in. The fuse was either an impact or a proximity fuse. All this had to happen in fifteen seconds. Once all four guns had taken up closer positions, we were able to reach the farthest enemy positions and targets. At one point, one of our teams of gunners reported excessive barrel wear on their gun and we began noticing that the range of this gun was decreasing. The gun tiffies were called and during the thick of the battle, they came forward and dismantled and rotated the barrel so that it was as good as new.
The rebuilding of Bridge 14 then began. The engineers had the onerous task of chopping down trees to use as building material and then reconstructing the bridge while under constant enemy fire. We watched all this happening from our OP position. This went on for two days. The plan was to send heavy armoured vehicles over the bridge. The river was flowing strongly due to the continuous, heavy rain. On day two, the enemy must have realized that we had an OP, because our firing was becoming more and more accurate. They started taking speculative shots, trying to monitor whether or not there was movement where their projectiles fell. Eventually, they found us. Heavy enemy fire from their BM’s then rained down continually on our positions, getting closer and closer. The salvos came thick and fast, including mortar fire. We took cover behind rocks, keeping as close to the ground as possible. I radioed back to the guns that our position was under heavy fire. The enemy had realized that if our position had been taken out then there could be no accurate fire from us on their artillery. Bernie said to me “If ever there was a time to pray, it’s now”. He clutched his St Christopher mumbling in Latin. I presumed he was a Roman Catholic. I, being of the Jewish faith, but not having attended synagogue much since my Barmitzvah, mumbled the Hebrew phrase “Shemah Yisroel Ad-nai Eloheinu Ad-nai echad” – “Hear O Israel, the Lord our G-d, the Lord is One” all the while clutching my Magen David. Fifteen minutes later, a lull in enemy fire gave us the opportunity to move our position. “Time to move out of here” Bernie said. We hastily packed up and moved to a position about 300m above where we had been. The terrain was rocky. As we scrambled up the hill, heavy machine gun fire opened up shattering the rocks around us. We found a new hidden position and were able to locate and neutralize the enemy fire on us.
We were not sure how much damage the enemy took, but later into Day Two Bernie decided that we should send the Eland 90mm noddy cars across the bridge to see if the repairs would hold. The first car tentatively approached on the bridge. After a few metres in, the car commander realized that the bridge would not hold. He reversed off and reinforcement building resumed.
Towards the end of Day Two we started to successfully fire right into the enemy gun positions. We could see the enemy starting to panic. There was only one tar road to the bridge, running from north to south. In the far northerly distance, we saw a truck coming along the road at speed. Through the binoculars, we saw that it was an ammunition truck on its way to resupply the forward-most Cuban positions, more than likely with heavy mortars. Bernie said “Here’s our chance!” We did a single gun engagement using fuse 117 (an impact fuse). The first round landed about 200m in front of the vehicle, which kept going. We then re-adjusted the gun aim. The second ranging shot exploded about 40m in front of it in the road. The driver must have realized that the next shot would probably hit him, so he hastily turned the vehicle around and at great speed attempted to exit the battle area. Bernie gave me the co-ordinates up 300 and the order to fire. Enslin Beetje, the GPO responded incredibly quickly. The gun number one was Gus Martins’ and they got the round off almost immediately. The TA in the van promptly responded “Skoot viertien sekondes”, which meant that the calculated time measured from the moment the gun was fired until hitting the target was fourteen seconds. I repeated the command as was procedure. Bernie was looking through the binoculars and fourteen seconds later turned to me and said “Got him!” When the smoke from the explosion cleared, the vehicle was no longer on the road. It was later recovered by our tiffies and from the shrapnel damage to the vehicle it had sustained close to a direct hit. This incident and all others involving the 5.5s during the battle for Bridge 14 were directed by Bernie Pols and I and NOT by Potgieter and Liebenberg as described by Herman van Niekerk in his book Born to Storm. Just to put the record straight, Johan Potgieter and his OP team were not on Hippo Hill at any time during the battle for Bridge 14.
The radio message for this engagement to Enslin Beetje was sent by myself and was “Teiken uitgewis”.
Our gunners continued to work feverishly and even in our new position, the enemy was still firing at us. At this point, we were managing to land many of our firing rounds in the enemy gun positions. Despite this, they still seemed to be firing at us from those positions. Then Bernie gave me the order to fire “lug bars” (air burst). This meant that the fuse fitted on that high explosive shell would detonate at between thirty and fifty metres above the ground. This would result in shrapnel being sprayed over a circular area with a circumference of 30m to 50m. The issue with the 117 fuse was that with all the rain that had fallen, the ground had become so soggy that the projectile would not explode on impact. Immediately after using air burst we could see enemy infantry abandoning their positions. We continued lifting our fire until all enemy activity ceased.
Early on Day 4, we looked out over the valley and all appeared to be quiet. Bernie gave me the order “Stuur Panzers voorentoe”. We heard the armour start their engines and saw the Elands inch forward over the bridge while we continued firing at the farthest registered targets. Once all four cars were across the bridge, they spread out and moved forward. Out of the mist ahead of them, I saw smoke trails snaking out of the vegetation heading straight for the cars. It was later told to me that these were Sagger missiles, which had been used with devastating effect by the Egyptians against the Israelis in the 1973 Yom Kippur War. At this point, our guns were firing at maximum range using charge super. We immediately had to change the guns from impact to air burst fuses, as well as change the charge to low in order to engage the threatening enemy positions. We managed to knock out the Sagger missile positions. I am sure that Eoin Gibson (one of the armoured car commanders) can describe what he saw and experienced. The cars were able to proceed forward and accordingly we lifted our fire. There were still enemy soldiers trying to hide on the sides of the road. Our cars machine guns went into action. From our OP position, we could see the cars moving forwards and could monitor the communications between them and HQ. I could see that the enemy troops were trying to take cover on the sides of the road and taking pot shots at our cars with small arms fire. Our artillery at that point could not assist because they were too close to our cars and risked hitting them. The cars’ main machine gun could not depress low enough to hit the enemy. Somehow we managed to neutralise the targets. After the battle ended our troops showed us evidence of marijuana in the pockets of the Cubans.
The taking of Bridge 14 was now complete. Our troops advanced over the bridge. It appeared to me as if any remaining enemy troops had packed up and left. That evening, we received orders that the next morning (I think that would have been a Friday) we were to descend Hippo Hill to a rendezvous on the road below. We were already out of rations and water and I was battling to drain out the last bit of power from the radio batteries. The next morning, I established communication with Comdt Joffel van der Westhuizen, who told us to proceed to the rendezvous point. We rolled down Hippo Hill, exhausted, hungry and thirsty. We got to the rendezvous and there was Joffel in his Landrover waiting for us. He came over to help us and shook our hands, thanking and congratulating us profusely and saying it was a job well done. I threw my kit into the back of the car and climbed in. Bernie got into the front passenger seat.
Joffel turned his car round and took us over the bridge to show us the results of our work. All the trees in the area had been mown down by shrapnel. There were craters dotted all over the ground, some deeper than chest height. Hundreds of enemy body parts were strewn over a large area. Here and there were legs with boots on. Body parts hung from parts of destroyed trees. It stank of burnt, rotting corpses. I started to vomit over the side of the vehicle and Joffel, who seemed to be enjoying all the gore, laughed at me. He was so excited that he was bouncing up and down in the driver’s seat.
Incident Post Bridge 14
Wayne Jacobs and I were sent back to Cela Hospital to deliver a message. It was on our way there that Wayne had acquired his Cuban boots off a rotting corpse. As we drove, we discussed ways and means of getting hold of enemy weapons as mementos. Wayne had heard from an infantry troop that captured Cuban weapons had been dumped in an unused room in Sela Hospital. The hospital had been taken over by the medical corps for the sole use of the SADF troops. On our arrival, we delivered the message and inquired from one of the staff where the weapons room was. He directed us to go past the operating theatre, which was in use with its doors wide open. We located the weapons room. Wayne was as excited as a kid in a toy store. He immediately began rummaging through a pile of weapons. I followed suit. I found what I thought was a Portuguese G3 rifle. It had the same calibre as the South African R1 rifle i.e. 7.62mm long. The magazine was still in the weapon. I sat down on the only chair in the room to check for rounds in the chamber, remove the magazine and to pull the cocking handle back in order to eject any live round from the chamber. Much to my disappointment, the cocking handle was missing. I had the rifle upright resting on the butt with the barrel between my legs, trying to get the mouse to pull back without the missing cocking handle. I was unable to do this. Undeterred, I came up with another plan. The alternative was to put the safety catch on to “safe” and attempt to pull the trigger, which would then be blocked by the safety catch. The safety ON and OFF insignia were in Portuguese, which I did not understand. I manoeuvered the safety catch as I would for a South African R1. Big mistake! (The Portuguese safety catch worked opposite to the SA gun). I pulled the trigger. There was around in the chamber and the rifle discharged. The sound was deafening. I looked up and saw the sunlight streaming in through the hole in the roof that the round had made. Wayne turned and looked at me wide-eyed. Blood poured from the tip of my nose where the bullet had grazed me. The noise of the shot and the sight of my bleeding nose sent Wayne flying past me, out of the room and down the road in total shock. The medics who had heard the shot came to investigate. Two of them chased after Wayne, eventually managing to pin him down and sedate him. They then patched me up. I was almost deaf and shivering from shock. Wayne, being the designated driver of our vehicle, was in no state to drive. I didn’t have a licence and didn’t really know how to drive. Somehow, with much jerking, I managed to get us back to our gun positions. We arrived shaken and empty-handed. Luckily, there were no repercussions or investigations regarding this incident.
A few weeks after Bridge 14, Bernie Pols and I were sent on an OP up a mountain north of Bridge 14 called “Top Hat”. On day 2, I spotted what I thought was an enemy armoured vehicle driving through the bush about 1km north of us. We relayed this information to our command position. About ten minutes the reply came back “Do not engage”. On Day 3, we were told to come three quarters of the way down the mountain to a rendezvous with another OP team who would take over from us. The relieving OP team consisted of a national service 2nd Lt, (I am not sure of his name), and a permanent force Corporal de Kock. The standard protocol was to radio in one’s co-ordinates every 20 minutes during the descent so that the gunners could monitor us and cover us if necessary. This we failed to do only reporting in hourly. During the descent from Top Hat we established radio contact with the relief OP team. On the final part of our descent we lost contact. This was worrying being so close to the rendezvous point. Suddenly, the relief team appeared out of the bush 100m ahead of us, followed by ten Cubans who had taken them captive. We were close enough to them to hear them speaking in Afrikaans. The 2nd Lt told de Kock to “run for it” and they made a dash towards us. The 2nd Lt was shot with the bullet severely grazing his forehead. De Kock was hit in the chest. Both were able to continue running in our direction. Bernie ordered me to radio the message “Bestook eie posiesies!” This is a last resort order meant to create chaos amongst the enemy, forcing them to seek cover and to give own troops to extricate themselves from the situation. A few seconds later the first round came in but way off target, due to the fact that we had not regularly radioed in our positions. I readjusted fire and the next round was closer. By that time, the injured men had reached us and we all ran for the nearby road. The armoured cars arrived soon after to extract us. The 2nd Lt passed out from loss of blood. De Kock’s life was saved by his binoculars hanging on his chest and which had absorbed a lot of the impact. He was transported to Cela Hospital where he was operated on by Dr Tony Dippenaar, who later became Surgeon General to the SADF. The 2nd Lt was flown to 1 Military Hospital in Voortrekker Hoogte for treatment and survived. Bernie and I visited him a few days after. We found him in a large, empty ward, his chest heavily bandaged but in good spirits.
This was the last enemy engagement I had in Angola.
KLAARING OUT
The discharge date for our mandatory military service of twelve months expired during the Battle for Bridge 14. We were informed by radio that parliament had passed a resolution extending national service for those involved in current conflict indefinitely. Also, the department of Defense had run out of funds and parliament had agreed to allocate extra money to them.
We had had no contact with our parents throughout. My parents received a weekly telephone call from either Major Bosch (2IC of the regiment) or from Cmdt Nel (OC). This call was to the effect that “your son is doing well and in good health on the border”.
After Bridge 14, there was a political stalemate. Towards the end of January 1976, we still did not know when we would be going home.
Whilst in Angola, we all became memento collectors. Prize finds were an AK47, a PPSH type tommy gun, enemy combat caps, bayonets, Russian watches and a pair of Cuban boots. I had a Russian PPSH with a full magazine, dating back to the Second World War, a FN bayonet, an AK47 bayonet and a Cuban cap. In a lull after one of the shorter skirmishes following Bridge 14, Wayne Jacobs (our OP Landrover driver) and I were sent back to Cela Hospital to deliver a message. Wayne was desperate for a pair of Cuban boots. Apparently they were very comfortable. After a few kilometres driving we smelt the most awful stench. Wayne slammed on brakes. We got out of the vehicle and walked into the bush. We came across a dead Cuban fully clothed. Much to my disgust and horror, Wayne gleefully removed the corpse’s boots. He tried them for size and they fitted. He wore them with great pride!
Some time in late January/early February, we were told that we were withdrawing from Angola and to hand over our guns to some citizen force artillery unit. The handover took place about 150km north of the border somewhere in Angola. We were finally on our way home. We were told that on our arrival back at camp, we would be searched for any mementos and that any that were found would be confiscated. I decided to ditch the PPSH over the side of the vehicle into the Angolan bush, but kept the two bayonets and cap, which I still have today.
Our convoy drove into Grootfontein. A closed tent had been erected for our unit. We had the first hot shower and hot meal in many a month. We were issued with a brand new set of Browns and boots and our original, stored kit was returned to us. We were marched into the same hangar where we had signed over our lives. Once again PW Botha addressed us. He was flanked on the stage by General Magnus Malan and Lt General Constand Viljoen. PW explained to us that the Defence Force had not yet received the money due to it from parliament. He said that anyways we were too young to get that money and would probably spend it recklessly! Instead of being paid, we would each be given a Parker pen! The front row was filled with our armour troops. They wore their jumpsuits which made them look broader and brawnier than the rest of us. When they heard what PW said, they jumped up and I thought that they were going to lynch him. They were not happy with the situation. A row of MP stepped between them and PW. PW finished off his speech by offering each of us a post in the Permanent Force. He was then bundled out of the hangar with the other dignitaries. We again had to sign a nondisclosure and official secrecy document.
That day we boarded the troop train for the two day journey back to Potchefstroom. We were given a hero’s welcome by the civilians of Potch who came specially to meet us. We were driven to the base where we handed in our kit and rifles. Sgt Major Erasmus was in charge of the Stores. He wanted to charge Padda du Preez for handing in a bent rifle, but changed his mind when he learned that it had been driven over by an enemy vehicle. My parents came all the way from Pretoria to fetch me.
Gary Nowosenetz is a Pretoria-based businessman and electrical engineer. In January 1975, he commenced military service, and went on to serve in a heavy artillery unit in the Fourth Field Regiment Operation Savannah incursion from August that year until March 1976.
[1] On my return to South Africa in May 1976, I was summoned to Defense HQ in Pretoria to collect my pay. In the pay envelope was over R3000 in cash. This was enough money to buy an almost new car two years later when I got my driver’s licence.
