Night of the Revv.

Oshigambo, 0622H00BJune87

The Date: Saturday, 6 June 1987
The Time: 10.00PM
The Place: Oshigambo Base, Owamboland, South West Africa/Namibia

Oshigambo was one of the outer bases of 53 BN (Ondangwa). It was located North-East of Ondangwa, although still within proximity of the main centre.

It had been one of those particularly boring weeks, and this was no exception as another Saturday night where the Officers and NCOs were spending the evening in the Bar. One could hear the noise right from the bunker where we were standing guard. Yes, we were to spend another evening scanning the horizon for any movement that could imply enemy movement - although movement usually ended up being some local PB's donkey ambling through the veld to its home.

I spent this evening contemplating what my family back home was doing. It was my brother's 18th birthday today, and here I was thousands of kilometres away in some backwater. There was always the thought of why, why, why. The locals seemed friendly enough, so why did we have to come here to protect them, and from what? Their own people? Perhaps time would provide the answer.

Boredom on guard duty would always set in at about 10.00PM when things got quiet in the base. The worst shifts were from Midnight to 2.00AM or 2.00AM to 4.00AM. At least if you got the shift before 10.00PM you could get some sleep, or the 4.00AM to 6.00AM shift provided you with the opportunity to go out of the base for the morning Minesweep. Away from routines, rank, and cleaning the base.

Most evenings there was nothing to do in base, except write letters, and how many letters can you write in a day to the same person uttering the words : "The sun shone today [it always did], we had great fun [sure], and we did ... [Censored, Censored, etc.]" As the months passed by we learnt to say the same thing in many different ways, after all the SADF required you to write to your family regularly - so your family knew you were OK. Guard duty was usually passed talking to your colleague. Or you would walk up and down and count your steps between two points. It's amazing how many steps and patterns you could create in a square metre of soft white Owambo sand. This particular Saturday evening saw many of the sections out on patrol, so the base was pretty empty when it came to troops, but the senior ranks made up for this in any case.

My colleague and I arrived early for the 10.00PM shift and the other guards left immediately. We checked the radio comms., and settled in to start the shift. By this time the base was getting quieter. We thought it unusual that the rank was going to bed so early. Their loud mouths could not be heard so much from the bar anymore. This was usually a good thing as it meant that they had had enough to drink [meaning they were probably drunk], and would not bother us tonight as they would sleep well. In deference to the rank though, they were not the kind of group that one could be friends with and for many they enjoyed the opportunity to mess the troops around. This probably resulted as much from the same boredom that we experienced. But then as troops we could only drink two beers per day to drown our worries and boredom, whereas the rank had unlimited resources both in terms of liquor and finances. Luckily for us the boredom was about to end permanently, as we would be returning to SA before the end of June when we would be finishing our two years National Service. Civvie Street, here we come. But first, guard duty.

One thing about being a conscript is that despite all the training for military action, both in SA and at Oshivelo, nothing could prepare you for that first contact with enemy action. You aren't too sure what is going on and are a little bewildered at first.

Doof ! Doof !, followed by: Boom ! Boom !

The earth literally moved around us. My colleague and I wandered what it was, then both muttered: "Damn rank, they're drunk, and are throwing Thunderflashes around the base." This was a not-unknown ploy performed by the rank to inconvenience everyone, and to get the troops into Klaarstaan positions. Trust me, if you were asleep in bed and the rank pulled this trick you wouldn't be in a good mood either. Luckily for my colleague and I we were already in a bunker as we were on guard duty. We would simply continue to remain there.

Doof ! Doof !, Boom ! Boom !
Doof ! Doof ! , Boom ! Boom !
Doof ! Doof ! , Boom ! Boom !
Doof ! Doof ! , Boom ! Boom !

Suddenly it dawned on us this is no Thunderflash session. There are people running for the walls. More and more explosions are now occurring around us. Simultaneously to us starting to fire out to any enemy position, it becomes like thunder around us as all the corner bunkers start shooting at anything outside of the base. We start shooting with the LMG, and for a medic and a clerk we seem to get the hang of it pretty quickly. Ears just go numb with the feeling of humming from the loud noise occurring around us. We can't see much out in the darkness, but systematically mow the lawn - anything that's a potential target is aimed for, and shot at. Belt after belt is fed into the LMG and fired. We aren't sure how long the shooting continues as the entire base is caught up in the momentum of its first contact. Before we know it we have the Guard Commander next to us, shouting: "Hulle revv die basis. Waar vuur julle. Reg." We continued firing for a while longer, and it wasn't long before he was back. A sudden scream from the Guard Commander: ''Julle gaan die loop buig, kyk hoe rooi is die LMG se loop." Well what did we know. After all a medic and a clerk aren't your typical Skietpiete. Sudden instructions are given to us to shoot with our R4 rifles until the LMG has cooled down. So we switched to these and started mowing the lawn again [what little lawn there was in the Owambo bush around Oshigambo]. A while later he was back with the instruction: "Staak vuur."

We were now as hyped as any other troop in the base. and didn't at that point realise what danger we had been in, or what havoc had occurred inside the base. Instructions came around: "Alle troepe bly op julle poste. Ons stuur vir julle koffie." We then started to hear that we had been under mortar attack. We were still unsure as to whether the base's defensive bombing had achieved any enemy casualties.

At this point it started to sink into our minds, as to the full effect of the events that had occurred. We had had someone shooting at us, someone trying to kill us. It was an extremely tense time as we realised that there was a risk that the person, or persons, could mount a second attack. There were still enough hours to do this and to reach the Angolan border before sunrise. Thoughts crossed our minds: "What would we do if they came within range of small arms fire". They had mortar-bombed the base from a "safe" distance so we heard later that mowing the lawn had not actually even helped. At this time of the evening the atmosphere was now so electric in the base that we remained on guard for a considerable period after midnight. In fact most ended up sleeping in the trenches and bunkers that night.

We started praying for Koevoet to arrive on the scene, because it was known that they would solve any problem. Koevoet was not as "soft" as the SADF, and they would chase a spoor at night if they had to. Our minds started to play tricks on us in the ensuing silence that covered the base. It was eerie, the silence, waiting for another possible attack. Listening to base comms made us realise that some of our friends had been hit in the attack. We waited for any news to come in as to their condition. Thankfully the Doc and his Medics were in the sickbay to tend to the injured, as we were not to leave our posts. Later we heard that Ondangwa Air Force Base could not send out the choppers to collect the injured because of enemy in the territory; still later we heard the choppers were then coming. Eventually the choppers arrived and our injured friends were casevaced to Ondangwa.

We heard the next morning that we had not had any own forces deaths, thankfully, but some of our friends were quite badly injured. This event was a sobering experience as to what people will do to each other.

I still relive that night in my mind and graphically travel back there in my mind regularly when I think of what I discovered the next day...

Veteran S.

Copyright © 2001 S. Le Roux AND OpsMedic. All rights reserved.