The Army Chronicles: Lesotho Crossing

By CR Delport

As Chris Dempsey settles into his new role as section leader, they start the next phase of training. After a few weeks of riot training, they are informed of a change of plan. They will be deployed to the military base at Ladybrand where they will patrol the South African - Lesotho border.

Chris and his squad soon finds out the farmers in the area are not friendly toward the military. Not only do they have to deal with illegal crossings, stock thefts, and gun smugglers, they have to gain favor with the locals.

While he has to deal with the obligations of his military service, Chris must also face his personal issues, and a storm brewing on the home front. With him being in the army, it puts a strain on his relationship with his pregnant girlfriend.

Follow Chris Dempsey and his friends every step of the way as they deal with this next phase of their two year military service.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CR Delport
• Release date: Sep 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311970725

CR Delport

I am a South African born author. I am currently single and live in the lively town of Brakpan. Apart from my love for writing, I also play golf, love gardening and do loads and loads of fishing.

Book preview

The Army Chronicles

Book 3

Lesotho Crossing

By

CR Delport

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

CR Delport at Smashwords

Lesotho Crossing

Copyright © 2014 by CR Delport

Cover Art:

Jaco Moolman

Special Thanks:

Schalk Jacobs

Foreword

From 1966 to 1994 it was compulsory for white South African males to do military service. As part of their military service, it was required to defend the country against any thread from both inside and outside South African borders. This also led to the South African border war, which spanned from 1966 to 1989. Many young men gave their lives for their country, and many who returned from border duty were so traumatized, they were unable to talk about what they experienced. Even to this day, it is impossible for most of those who served in the military and doing border duty, to share with their friends and families as to what they experienced.

These books are my attempt to take the reader on a journey to give an insight of what these young men experienced. From basics, all through their service, and then border duty, or in some cases, the bush war in Angola. Although the characters in this book are fictional, most places and events that follow are not, and are based on what really happened. There were many different military units, but our story focuses on 1 South African Infantry Battalion, and our characters’ subsequent deployment to 61 Mechanized Battalion. They started their National Service as boys, but finished as men.

Author’s Note: I have added a glossary at the end of the book. If you encounter a word that you don’t understand, please check there.

Chapter 1

For me, the ride on the bus to 1 South African Infantry Battalion in Bloemfontein was a quiet one. We were on our way back to base after a weekend at home, a weekend that rocked my world.

For the past few weeks my girlfriend acted weird toward me, and I was under the impression that she had an affair and wanted to break up with me. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that she was pregnant.

What disturbed me most, was the fact that she didn’t tell me straight away. When I asked her why, she said it was because of me being in the military. I completed the first six months of a mandatory two-year stint. It was not something I wanted to do, but being drafted, you had no choice. You could either do two years military service, or spend three years in jail. Most able young men rather opted for military service.

Staring out the window, the scenery flashed by in a blur, but I didn’t notice. My mind was still back at home with Charlotte. After we had a talk with her parents, I was supposed to tell mine, but chickened out at the last minute. Before another opportunity could present itself, it was time to head back to base.

I said goodbye to Charlotte at her house with the promise that I would tell my parents. My mother drove me to the train station, presenting a good opportunity to tell her on our thirty-minute drive, but somehow I didn’t think it appropriate.

The truth? I was scared. In all honesty, I had nothing to be scared of because my parents would have supported me no matter what happened, but I was eighteen, and not thinking straight.They would be disappointed, which was what scared me.

The chatter around me quieted, and I felt several pairs of eyes on me. I glanced to my right. A young man with bright red hair, and a face full of freckles stared at me. Not even the short army haircut could hide the carrot color of Rex Dumont’s hair. His green eyes were fixed on my face with interest and concern.

What happened to you over the weekend? Rex asked.

The face of a young boy popped up from the seat in front of us. Although dressed in a brown military uniform like the rest of us, he looked too young and too small to be in the army. Charles Middleton the Third was the same age as us, and had aspirations of becoming a jockey.

Did she dump you? Charlie asked in his soft, high-pitched voice.

Another head popped up next to him. George Cunningham’s blond hair was just as spiky as the first day I met him on the train to Bloemfontein.

You hardly said a word since we left Joburg, George said in his deep voice.

The bus departed from Johannesburg train station an hour earlier, which was all the time my friends would allow me my own thoughts. They could see something was up, and their curiosity reached boiling point.

I sighed. No, she didn’t dump me. When she refused to take my calls, I decided to stake out her house. After a few hours she had to go to the shop, so I followed her.

Rex raised an eyebrow. Stalking. Now there’s a sure sign of desperation.

I ignored the comment. She went into the shop, and I sat outside waiting, planning my next move. Before I could come up with a good plan, she exited and noticed me.

I bet that was awkward, Charlie said.

Shush, George chided him, interested to hear the rest of story.

I smiled. Yes, you’re right. That was awkward, but I pretended that I saw her entering the shop and waited for her to come out. Before she could think my story through, I demanded to know what was up with her. At first she didn’t want to tell me, but then she realized she had to, and spilled the whole sack of beans.

Well, are you going to tell or do I have to beat it out of you? George asked when I paused too long. He lifted his short, powerful frame in the seat.

I kept my face blank. She’s pregnant.

A stunned silence followed. Three pairs of eyes stared at me in disbelief.

George was the first to find his voice. Corporal Chris Dempsey, you stud. That’s awesome.

Several curious heads in the bus turned our way, and I signaled a warning to George with my eyes.

Oh, it’s supposed to be a secret, George said with a lowered voice.

Rex shook his head in sympathy. Did you talk to her parents?

I nodded.

Rex looked impressed. Did you tell your parents?

I swallowed, and shook my head. Not yet.

How did that happen? Charlie asked wide-eyed.

George wrapped an arm around Charlie’s slim shoulders, and pulled him down into the seat next to him.

Charlie, I think it’s time we have a chat.

When Charlie and George dropped back into their seats, Rex continued to stare at me.

What? I asked.

Are you ready to be a father?

I shook my head. Of course not, but this is not something I can ignore or run away from. I have to deal with it.

Having another eighteen months of military service ahead of me became a daunting prospect. As much as fatherhood scared me, I would rather be with Charlotte than on a military base.

It was late afternoon when the busses stopped in front of the big black gates. Two guards, dressed in full uniform, were on duty. I stepped from the bus, and the cool winter air smacked me in the face. The gloomy, cloudy weather echoed my mood. I grabbed my kit from the cargo hold and headed for the gates.

When the guards noticed my rank, they came to attention. They had to acknowledge every rank, even a lowly lance corporal like me.

Welcome back, Corporal, one of the guards said.

Thanks, I mumbled, not at all pleased to be back.

Alpha Company’s barracks where at the top of the base, the furthest buildings from the gates. I tossed my balsak over my shoulder and started the walk. My three friends fell in next to me.

I glanced to my right and had to smile. Like me, they all carried their bags over their left shoulder, and without even trying, they kept in step with me. Uniformity was so drilled into us the first six months, we did it without even thinking.

When I stepped into our bungalow, a few people had already returned, but the building remained largely empty. The polished linoleum floors reflected the bright, overhead fluorescent lights.

Two rows of neatly made beds lined the walls. My team, Alpha Section, had the beds on the left by the windows. The section leaders had their own cubicles, located right at the entrance of the bungalow, two each on either side.

My cubicle was the first one to my left. I entered the small room and placed the balsak on my bed. Next to the bed was a dark green steel cabinet, and at the foot end, my trommel, the only other furniture in the room.

I unlocked the cabinet and packed away my folded clothes in a neat pile. Once done, I stepped into the bungalow. It was now filled with soldiers. Some already stripped off their uniforms and ran around in their jocks, while other were more modest and wore their black PT shorts.

Someone noticed the lance corporal stripes on my sleeves and shouted, Stand up!

Everyone in the bungalow jumped to attention. It was required that whenever a person of rank entered a building, all the soldiers should come to attention.

I looked at the unfamiliar soul from bravo section. Relax, I’ve been here a while already.

Everyone returned to what they were doing. I made my way down the busy isle and stopped at Rex’s bed. I glanced at the empty bed next to his.

Frankie not back yet?

Rex shook his head. No, Corporal, his train is probably late again.

I still found it difficult to be addressed as ‘corporal’ by my friends. We all did basic training together. Rex and I enrolled in the Section Leader’s program, and although I graduated as a section leader, Rex didn’t quite make it, but was satisfied to be my section second in command.

Frankie Thompson, our other friend, lived near Cape Town. Like all the other soldiers from there, he had to take the train home. I left my friends to unpack and headed back to my cubicle. As I neared the door, a tall, skinny young man stumbled through the door.

He had his balsak over one shoulder, a civvy bag in his left hand, and another green bag clutched in his right hand. When he noticed me, his face lit up. Before he could say anything, he stepped on the trailing strap of his civvy bag and crashed to the floor in a tangled heap.

I ran forward and caught the green bag that he desperately tried to keep in the air. A pleasant aroma of something edible emanated from the bag. Quick as a flash Frankie was back on his feet.

Corporal Dempsey, thanks for saving that.

I stared at the bag. What’s in it?

Frankie smiled. Treasure. My mother baked for us this weekend.

His mother owned a confectionary and did all her own baking. While Frankie unpacked, I changed into PT clothes. While on base, if we were not in uniform, we were required to dress in a brown T-shirt and black shorts. No civilian clothes were allowed.

Not having the rank displayed on my sleeve, I felt much more at ease moving through the bungalow. We gathered at Frankie’s bed. He spread open two towels and unpacked the contents of the green bag on his bed.

My mouth watered when I noticed the assortment of cupcakes and small tarts.

With trommels serving as chairs, we were seated around Frankie’s bed. Several pairs of longing eyes from the rest of the bungalow were cast toward the eats displayed on the bed, but nobody dared to approach.

George’s reputation as a fighter was well known throughout the base, and nobody messed with him. Not that George would go around looking for trouble, but if it came to him, he was well equipped to deal with it.

Frankie grabbed a chocolate cupcake. Before he took a big bite, he asked, So what did you all do the weekend?

All eyes turned to me. With a mouth full of jam tart, I shook my head. Don’t look at me, I already shared my weekend.

Frankie’s eyes widened, and he desperately tried to choke down a piece of cupcake. What happened?

When I took too long to answer, George couldn’t stand the suspense. Charlotte’s pregnant.

Oh, Frankie said, and moved the cupcake to his mouth to take another bite, but he froze in mid-bite. Wait, what?

I shrugged and reached for a strawberry tart.

Did you tell your parents? Frankie asked.

No, I mumbled with a full mouth.

Well, we had a family picnic on the top of Table Mountain on Saturday, Frankie said.

I was always amazed how nothing fazed Frankie. One of the clumsiest people I knew, but he took everything in his stride. With all the knowledge of a walking encyclopedia, he made a useful and loyal friend. Of course, not everyone appreciated his vast general knowledge, and Frankie was often labeled a know-it-all.

But we were happy to have him as a friend, and always had his back. When everyone, including the corporals, found out that we were best friends with head chef, Frik Heyns, they tended to leave us alone. On an army base, the last thing you wanted to do was to piss off the chef.

As if on cue, Frik entered our bungalow. What’s this I hear about sweet treats from home?

Frankie patted the space on the trommel next to him. Take a seat and help yourself, before Rex devours everything.

With a mouthful and a cupcake in each hand, Rex grinned. We were all healthy eaters, but Rex was the master.

Frik grabbed a jam tart in bit into the delicacy. This is good, he said. Coming for a guy who knew his way around a kitchen, it was high praise.

Of course, I had to share my story about Charlotte’s pregnancy once more. At least with every person I told, it became easier. Although it would take a while, I would get more comfortable with the idea of becoming a father.

While we work to finish off the eats, the rest shared their weekends. As I listened to my friends describing their weekend at home, an uncomfortable feeling washed over me. The next morning I had to don my lance corporal stripes again, and then I would be more than their friend. I would be their section leader.

Unlike some people, power never went to my head. I observed some of the new section leaders and noticed how they saw themselves above the rest of the guys. I could only hope that my rank would not sour my friendships.

Once the new phase of our training started, I could show no favoritism toward my friends. They understood that,and dealt better with it than I did. By the time it got close to lights out, there was no sign of our platoon corporal.

After six months of training, nobody had to be told anymore that it was bed time, everyone knew it. When the clock struck ten, the lights went out. There were a few hushed conversations, but it wouldn’t take long before the bungalow was engulfed in silence.

I lay on my bed with my arms folded behind my head, and stared at the dark ceiling. My thoughts drifted toward Charlotte. My mother always warned me to be careful when it came to sex, but when Charlotte and I got together, all thoughts of care went out of the window.

I had no choice but to deal with the aftermath. It was hard to make any plans for the future when there was still eighteen months of national service to deal with. One thing I learned from my time in the army, nothing was predictable. You never knew what the next day would hold.

According to Frankie and Frik, our next weekend pass would happen in four weeks. That was how much time I had to figure out how I to break the news to my mother and father that they were about to become grandparents. If I survived that encounter, I might have a bright future ahead of me.

With the familiar sound of George’s snoring rolling through the bungalow, I drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 2

When I opened my eyes, my head turned toward the window. It was still dark outside, but enough light from the yellow security lights filtered through that I could read the time from the digital watch on my left wrist. 04:52.

Even the weekend at home, I woke up every morning before five. Ever since we started basics, we had to get up before five every morning, and got used to it. Well, most of us did. There were always a