My counsel seemed to have found some courage from somewhere. He stood up at his wooden desk with his few pages in his hand. “These are young servicemen who have come straight from high school to do their duty. They do it for the security of our country and for their families, as we all do. Those who enter combat units are thrust straight from school into close-combat situations. Consideration has to be given to the fact that the accused is in a fighting unit and had personally been involved in numerous contacts just prior to the incident.”
“Yes, that’s my man… go for it. You tell ’em!”
My counsel seemed to have found a crack in the proverbial dyke. He persisted bravely, standing somewhat squarely behind his empty desk. He had a determined look on his face as he lifted his notes and made a broad, sweeping gesture with them when he came to the part where I had discovered that the kittens had been killed. It seemed out of character. The panel of slavering pit bulls let him talk for a minute, glaring at him in silence with knuckled foreheads.
“I have a letter of recommendation here from the accused’s company commander, Captain Verwey. In it the captain states that Rifleman Korff is a likable, good troop who has always pulled his weight and has never been a troublemaker. He has performed well in the bush and has been at the forefront of recent actions across the border in Angola.”
He handed the letter to the corporal, who came forward and then handed it to a short, fat commandant who had been sitting quietly at the end of the long table.
“In these circumstances, away from family and loved ones, the men form strong attachments with pets and suchlike for comfort and possibly feel more for them than they would under normal circumstances.”
“Lieutenant, you are repeating yourself. I say to you again, troops are not permitted to have pets of any sort in the operational area, or in their base camps in South Africa!” The voice boomed out in surprisingly good English and cut off the brave red-haired lieutenant in mid-sentence, signalling the close of my defence.
My counsel quickly lost heart and swallowed his words. He sat down and shuffled his papers distractedly.
I stared straight ahead at the brown prefabricated wall behind the panel of pit bulls as they swapped notes and snapped and growled into each other’s ears. I felt the same feeling of helplessness I used to have when I was sent down to the school principal’s office and stood in front of him. It was a childhood feeling of having been bad and being caught and reprimanded. My brain seemed frozen in this childlike state of catatonic helplessness. I shifted my eyes back and forth along the prefabricated wall in an attempt to rearrange my thoughts and snap out of it. Why did I always end up in these situations? Why was it always me? Why hadn’t someone else beaten the shit out of this prick?
I didn’t have time to come to a conclusion in my soul-searching. It seemed that they had decided my fate alarmingly quickly. Boom Voice cleared his throat and bellowed on again in rapid Afrikaans for a minute, building to a climax that came quickly. Then he sat down and passed some notes to his colleagues.
The corporal, who’d been standing in the doorway, came forward to a snappy halt next to me, sharply saluted the panel and turned to me. “Right turn! Out the building, double-quick time! Forward… march! Leftrightleftrightleft…”
I marched through the doorway like a wind-up toy, unable to step in time to his quick-fire commands. Outside, he dismissed me on the concrete pathway and flashed the shadow of a smile as he shook his head slightly. Although he said nothing, I could tell that he was thinking—“What a bunch of dicks”.
The corporal took off and I stood uneasily in the shade of the covered walkway as sundry admin motherfuckers walked past me with piles of paperwork and relaxed attitudes. They seemed to be having a great time, bullshitting and laughing easily. Just like any job in Civvy Street. Five minutes later the red-haired lieutenant came out and gestured to me with his head as we walked briskly to his small office a few buildings down.
“What happened, what did I get?” I had no idea what Boom Voice had been saying on my fate.
“Well, it looks like luck is smiling on you, Korff. You got a one-year sentence, suspended for three years. It’s a longer sentence than I expected, but it is suspended. If you put a foot wrong in the next three years you’ll go to DB for a year, which will be carried over to civvy jail if your service is up while you are in DB.
I didn’t quite get the gist of what he was saying at the time, but all I knew was that I wasn’t going to DB. Even though I had prepared myself for the worst, in a way I was not surprised at the verdict as I had never really felt I would go to DB from day one. Somehow the picture of me in DB had never registered in my brain. Maybe God was looking after me after all. Maybe He had used me as his instrument of bush justice. Maybe.
“I think that letter of recommendation from your captain helped a lot. Also that you guys have got this big operation that’s going on any time now and they need every man they can get in your unit.”
I felt a gush of gratitude towards Captain Verwey. I went to the lieutenant’s office and signed some papers. I shook his hand and thanked him.
“Stay out of trouble now, eh—no more beating up sergeant-majors!” He had a smile on his face.
“No, I won’t, lieutenant.” I came smartly to attention and saluted him. He returned a casual salute and I walked out the door. Outside I felt like jumping up and down and whooping a Red Indian whoop but I walked casually, on air, to the canteen where I could grab some decent chow before I caught the ride back to Ondangwa. I couldn’t believe my luck and was unable to wipe the stupid grin off my face as I chowed down. As far as I knew the ‘big ops’ hadn’t started yet, so I might even be able to make it in time to join the action. Now I just had to find out where the hell D Company was.
Back at Ondangwa I jumped off the Buffel, beaming. It was hard to keep the smile off my face. I felt joyously happy. I was a free man… it was over! My soul soared like an eagle after being released from the dark three-week depression I had slipped into, sitting alone in my tent and waiting for this fucking court martial to be over. I walked among the tents on the way to the canteen and bumped into one of the corporals of the junior E Company, talking to a few of his troops in the doorway.
One of the good things about the Parabats was the respect shown between the senior and junior companies that didn’t really exist to the same extent in other units. A senior rifleman could even throw a bit of attitude around a junior corporal and probably get away with it. The only difference between a senior and junior company was the difference of six months between intakes of troops for national service.
I questioned the corporal with new vigour and bearing. “Corporal. Do you know anything about this big op? Has it started?”
He looked at me and, recognizing me as a senior, dropped the aggressive attitude he was inflicting on the group of juniors and answered me respectfully, even though I was just a rifleman and he had two stripes on his arm.
“No, I’m not sure… but I don’t think so. But it should be soon, because I know that D and H companies have been up training for it for the last three weeks. They’re going to be involved in it.”
“Yes I know. I’m in D Company and I need to get back to them as soon as possible.”
“Well, you better speak to Captain Swart. He’ll be back at 14:00.”