In this and two further columns, I will list how it was to be in the South African Defence Force as a national serviceman, all of which took place 30 years ago. Before we go any further, I want to make something perfectly clear: I didn’t volunteer for the South African Defence Force.
Had I decided not to go, the South African government would have kept me in confinement for four years. I had the option to leave the country and not go at all. However, by adopting this option, I wouldn’t have been allowed back into the country without attracting the four-year period of confinement. Thus, serving in the Defence Force was very much non-negotiable.
As I had done a thesis on acoustics in my final year at university, I was drafted to the South African Navy. This didn’t turn out as planned, but more about that later. Let’s begin with the first part of my national service, which was basic training at Salisbury Island Navy Base, in Durban.
Salisbury Island Navy Base had been founded during World War II and is still in use today. When I got there, we were escorted into accommodation which was generally for the sailors and consisted of dormitories that had 10 to 12 beds each where the sailors slept. Upon our arrival, everything seemed fairly calm and not too regimented. We were marched from area to area where we were issued clothing and a duffel bag for storage. The clothing was of good quality and well made. We were supervised by a petty officer who seemed to be of good disposition. But after a week, during which time we had got rid of our civilian clothing into storage and were dressed in navy uniform, all hell broke loose, as one might say.
Firstly, we were made to run everywhere. There was no marching. If there were two people going from one place to another, they ran next to each other; four people ran in a group of four. The petty officers had the right to command us to do push-ups and other exercises at a moment’s notice. It was generally very exhausting.
In theory, we started duty at 07:00 and finished at 17:00. In practice, we got up at 05:00 to make our beds, iron our clothing and clean our bungalows very thoroughly. The petty officers tried to make our lives as difficult as possible and made us undertake very difficult and long and tiring exercises well after the time we were meant to knock off.
We became fit, extremely fit, and we were taught all sorts of skills which would help us in our navy career and to survive. We undertook training in the use of weapons and fired these weapons. And for those of you who can remember that far back, if you did your basic training with somebody who was so stupid that they would accidentally let off a loaded firearm on a rifle range . . . yes, it happened to me too.
But fundamentally, we learnt the most basic things: how to obey orders, how to look after our clothing, how to look after our accommodation, and how to run. As an example, my friend Stephen and I were released on weekend leave. We stayed at my uncle’s house in Cape Town. On the Saturday night, we ran from Kenilworth along the Main road to Rondebosch, where we had some beers at The Pig and Whistle. We ran back again. This is a distance of 8 km. We didn’t think it very difficult.
Slowly but steadily, we turned from normal people into navy people. We learned to obey without question, and we learnt to do this without too much difficulty. This period of being in the navy was (as in the whole Defence Force) known as basic training, and we were trained well. There was no mindless treatment. Each of the periods of exhaustion and training had some plan to it and when we finally marched in our passing-out parade, it didn’t seem as bad as people told us it would be.