Captain Verwey nodded at us, stood back and moved to the next platoon to convey his message.
Lieutenant Doep continued: “After we have taken Ongiva, the whole fighting group will move farther into Angola to another big FAPLA base at Xangongo, about 100 clicks to the west of Ongiva, and we’ll do it all over again.”
We listened in silence. When he’d finished, he added something that made us all fully aware of the scope of the attack. His blond hair was long now from seven weeks in the bush, as was everyone else’s—except mine. It hung in curls well over his collar. His brown eyes screwed up, his thin lips were a slit in his face under the shadows thrown by the naked light bulbs hanging in the trees.
“Men, this is a big operation and we’re expecting tough resistance. Some of us might not be coming back from this one.” He glanced around at the platoon and said meaningfully, “Those of you who believe in Almighty God better have a prayer tonight; those who don’t might want to think deeply about it. Get to sleep early and get your stuff on the Buffels; we’re leaving at 03:00 sharp.”
I knew then that I was going to die. The run of good fortune I thought I’d had was just a twist of fate to get me into the front lines, attacking a base manned by 1,000 men on the day of my 21st birthday. My bad-luck birthday spell had not been broken… I would probably be one of the ones not coming back and would die in a trench on my 21st birthday or be cut in half by a 23-millimetre anti-aircraft gun.
Stan and I slipped off on our old after-dark recce and returned with two cases of Castle lager. Captain Verwey walked right past us and bust us red-handed with our arms full of cans of beer but said nothing and walked on as if he’d seen nothing. We sat down around the fire that was full of old ash from three weeks’ nightly burning and began some serious beer-drinking. I had a genuine feeling of doom and spoke about it quietly around the fire.
“Think about it. On my last two birthdays I was busted, almost to the exact same hour, and spent the night in boop—and now this year, on my 21st, we’re attacking fucking Ongiva!”
“Well Gungie, could be that third time is lucky. Ever thought of that?”
“That’s what I thought when I got off going to DB and then managed to get back here to you guys hours before you left. But now I don’t know. It’s just too fucking weird. Think about it; what are the odds of all these things happening on the same date?” I was not a superstitious person in the least, but this all seemed too much.
“What do you think’s going to happen?”
“I think I might get killed, that’s what might happen!”
“Bullshit! Any of us might get killed.”
“Yeah, I know, but I feel jinxed… seriously.” I sat on an empty grenade case and drained my first beer in three big pulls. It was warm but tasted wonderful. I crunched the can and reached for a second. There were six or seven small fires here and there under the trees. The gloom was slowly lifting with some help from the warm beer. There were bursts of laughter that seemed too loud and forced. After the third beer my feelings of doom had subsided and after the fifth I was mimicking the 3 SAI sergeant-major at the court martial, saying in a whiny voice: “He stomped on me and jumped on me and then dragged me out the tent.” Everyone laughed.
“Hey, John, if you catch it at Ongiva, can I have your watch?”
“Yes, you can. Seriously… you can have it, but if you get nailed I want that bush knife.”
“Yes, you can have it, brother.” We all laughed too loudly.
“No, if you get killed, Johnny, I want Jennifer. You know and I know she fancies me. I want your word that I can move in on her and tell her it’s what you would have wanted. She’ll go for that.” I had John Delaney cracking up.
“Sure, but I want that babe of yours if your birthday curse comes true.” I had once shown John a sassy picture of Taina standing with her hands on her hips and her top off and he had been in love ever since.
“Sure, but I don’t think you’ll get it up because my ghost will be squeezing your nuts too hard.”
“Well, my man, if you get hit by a 23-millimetre AA shell, even your ghost will be in pieces, so I’m not too worried about that!”
We all cracked up.
I was doing two things: celebrating being back with the boys and trying to make like all the shit I had heard in the last couple hours wasn’t true. But right now we were warriors and like warriors of old we were getting well plastered before battle. Stan was well and truly drunk and walking around the fire doing his usual pantomime thing, wagging his finger at everyone like a teacher: “No, no, no. You must listen now; you don’t understand…” and then breaking into a Pink Floyd song: “Forward they cried, from the rear, and the front ranks diiiiieeed…”
Even John Glover was standing and doing a jig in the firelight and joining Stan in song, which was very unusual for him. I sat smiling, just enjoying being back.
Pennefather came over from the other platoon’s campfire, holding a fire bucket. He sat down at our fire and swirled the bucket around, mixing its contents. “Take a swig of this, it’ll fuck you right up.”
“What is it?”
“Liquid Valium. From ampoules mixed with sugar water. Tastes like hell, but hey…” He handed it around. I took the fire bucket and looked at the wet shadow at the bottom.
“Drink it fast. You can’t sip it or you’ll puke. Guaranteed.”
“Have you had some?”
“Yeah, man… it’s fucking awful. We got it from some of the medics. Riley knows them. We got some Sosagon too.”
What the hell; tomorrow we die. I tilted my head back and downed the evil-tasting concoction in one swallow. I had to fight to keep it down.
Later that night I sat and watched the low flames of our fire flicker around the pockets of glowing embers. They licked around the log and erupted in a small explosion of green as they found some sap and then leaped with new vigour to attack the still-green bark. The green bark fought back, determined not to burn like the rest of its body which glowed in broken embers, but each time it bled a drop of its blood the green explosions erupted again and brought on a new attack of flame. I thought the green bark was doomed and would not withstand the attack. I looked deep into the cherry-red embers and saw a thousand shapes spring to life. I turned and rolled onto my side and looked into the darkness. Before my eyes I saw a beautiful old ranchhouse in vivid yellow and red with long ploughed fields of chocolate-brown soil. A fence of blackwood stretched as long as a railway line, huge trees flickered in a hundred shades of green, red and yellow. It was an indescribably beautiful, peaceful scene and I didn’t want to leave it. The trees changed to purple but the fence stayed black. My eyes were wide open; I was seeing the scene as if I was hovering above it and could reach out and touch it. I realized what I was seeing in front of my eyes was my home, the farm…
I tried weakly to get up but could not and laid my head down with my eyes still open. I was as high as a kite on a thousand-metre string and for the first time in my life was having a real hallucination. I became aware of Lieutenant Doep standing close to me and talking to me but I don’t know if I answered him. He might have been an hallucination too.
“If you want to piss you’d better go now; there wont be time later!”
Half the company jumped down from the Buffels and steam rose in the air from several dozen piss spots in the chilly dawn. I was nervously forcing out the last drops against a thin tree (I remember that tree like I saw it yesterday) when an ear-shattering explosion like I had never heard in my life split the silence of the dawn half a click away.