Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Oom Daan and Tannie Pompie

Im Riana, the youngest daughter or Oom Daan and Tannie Pompie. He was 2nd Lt. D.R. van der Westhuizen and she was Sgt. C.C. van der Westhuizen.

But to many boys on the border they were known only as oom Daan and tannie Pompie. He was a man with a good humor and was accomplished at bushman tracking techniques. My mother was the radio operator guru known as 91.They were farmer’s, great parents and wonderful human beings and then came the army.

We are 4 children, my oldest sister Retha is now 52, married to Dup Venter and mother of 2 sons and a daughter and the grandmother of the light of her life, a 3 yr old girl.

My second sister Oliva, is 49 and she is the widow of J.H. Potgieter (Hendrik) who died with my dad on 15 April '82.She got married again to Izak Visser who helped her raise her 2 children from her marriage Hendrik. Louis and Marlize were aged 5 and 1 years old respectively, when their father died.

My brother Danie who was in the army at the time of my dads death is now 44 and has 4 kids and he is now married to Retha...(not my sister, another one) LOL

Im Riana, the last and unplanned child, im 36 yrs old. no hubby, no kids.

The story I’m about to tell u started many years ago and its not about any of the kids. Its about my parents.

When it was decided to start the Etosha commando's my parents not hesitate for one moment. They signed up and they inspired others to do the same. They felt they had to do their duty towards their country and could not expect the kids from all over the country to fight while they sit back and nothing. At that time, South West Africa was under South African Rule and South West Africans were loyal to South Africa and visa versa.

My dad was an natural leader with the most an incredible sense of humor. I have no doubt that he could make even the worst danger look like a walk in the park. He was just that kind of person. Nothing was ever too difficult to do and the glass was always half full and never half empty. He would never expect anything of anybody unless he was repaired to do it himself.

My mum was not the quiet wife type, she loved my dad and her family to bits but she found her other big passion in the army. Radio's were her passion. She had a knack for them and I believe she could do magic with those big green monsters. Give her a radio and she will have it working in no time and hear distances and people that only she could hear. She even designed her own Antennae, reversed V with which she was able to hear as distances far into Angola. Many people would come to the farm, yes she operated them from the farm. Between 3 and 6 of those big green monsters were considered worthy enough to take up prime space in our kitchen. The visitors would wonder if it perhaps was the geographical contours of the farm that made communications over such vast distances possible. Here was a woman on a farm, achieving comms that they as highly trained radio operators could never accomplish.

Mum just smiled and hid her sketches of her reverse V antennae.

In the mid 70's terrorist was big word for a 6 yr old and I became very confused with terrorist and tourist. I struggled with pronunciations and I called myself Hanna because it was just too difficult to say the R in Riana. It took me a while to sort of, know the difference between the two, probably never got my head around the tourist part even though I got to learn that they fighting terrorists and I knew for certain that there was danger in the air.

We had a high fence around the house by now and all bushes on the other side had been taken out and we had to paint a number on the roof of our house and dad and Hendrik went to "chase terrs" now and then. When this happened Olivia and her kids would come and stay with us. I wasn’t allowed to play outside the fence and before dark I had to be inside. But as a child I still did not realise the full impact of what was going on.

Mum was in front of the radio, I was told to shhhhht and be quiet, she had to listen. She started with one small radio and she had to tape record conversations of troops on frequencies only she could hear and she did that with a small cassette tape deck, like I got for my 12th birthday years later. But that meant there had to be absolute silence and she was sitting hunched over the radio's listening and turning knobs. To me it was pure craziness! So the kitchen became radio room and the green monsters got more and bigger. Mum became callsign 91 and the radio guru with the private telephone number directly to “oom Jannie Geldenhuys” (General Jannie Geldenhuis)

In the Meantime dad got a few bushman trackers together and helped them set up camp on our farm Koedoesvlei. He had to teach them the military basics but they were raw and primitive people of the veld, and my father didn’t want them to loose that but they needed to learn how to conduct themselves in an army environment. So they had parades in the morning, dad showed them how to march which at times was real funny. They obviously could not read or write, didn’t know left from right and now they had to learn to march in proper military style. They couldn’t pronounce Lieutenant correctly and to them he was "luitlant" and that was it.

The army provided them with food, which we went to fetch on Grootfontien every Friday. A long drive in a garry (what we called the landy the army gave dad) The Bushmen got the same food as any member of the SADF but before long they started to complain, "Luitlant, dis food make us lazy and don’t give us energy, we want mieliepap." They were not impressed with the cheese and polony and tinned food and boxes of the best food the SADF came up with to feed them, no sir, they wanted meiliepap, that’s what they know, that’s what their bodies were used to and what gave them sustenance that made them feel energetic so that’s what they got.

They learned to shoot...to march...to do the things a soldier in the army would do and they were my dad's pride and joy. He was extremely proud of them and they swore that he could walk on water.

In the meantime the farming had to go on and so it did. Dad and Hendrik weren’t only family and comrades but they were also best buddies and would chat for hours on end. They were both farmers and good farmers at that, spending many hours looking at the clouds and working hard, and getting up 4 in the morning. When I was not in school I would wake up with him and follow him around like a shadow. He didn’t have to receive the Honoris Crux to be my hero. He was my hero because of the love he showered me with.

He taught me the phonetic alphabet which I remember till this day. He taught me his army nr, which I still remember off the top of my head. These are the little memories of him I treasure till this day.

I only had him for 11 yrs and 11 months, but he gave me enough love to last me a lifetime...

9 comments:

Anonymous said...

Your Dad must be standing somewhere, tall and very proud of you. Alles van die beste. Anne, ex-SAAF

RobC said...

I will be back often Riana. Great memorial to your dad.

Anonymous said...

I served at Tsintsabis from the end of 1983 to Dec 1986 before being transferred to Sector 10 ,Oshakati. I started my border duty at 301 Bn (Tsintsabis or previously known as Noord Grens Kompanie) a year after the particular ambush described here and I remember the ambush site very well as we used to drive past it on our patrols between the Bravo and Charlie Cutline close to a place called "Plaas 8" near the "17 30" cutline which ran from North to South. We would sometimes stop at the ambush site and some of the shallow trenches that the PLAN fighters dug would still be visible. We would sometimes find pieces of molten bullet-proof glass and other items from the destroyed Ratel. To us that site was almost holy and we always thought of our comrades that died there. I will one day visit that site again as it is one of my dreams. For three years I closely worked with one of the bushmen trackers who was present during the ambush named "Ou Jan". His brother, Jan KK was also killed during that ambush and we must never forget the big role that these bushmen trackers played and the sacrifices that they made. I also remember Tannie Pompie and you, Riana and Olivia very well. As I said I have a dream to visit Tsintsabis again one day and retrace our steps at 301 Bn where I spent three of the best years of my life in the army between the Aplha and Charlie cutline. I made good friends and I only have fond memories of that time of my youth. Despite all the negative perceptions being distributed about the old SADF, I will always be proud to have served as part of a force which formed a buffer between the threat from those who intended to kill farmers and other innocent civilians and those that we had to protect, regardless of race, creed or colour. It was not in vain! I must end by saying that Tannie Pompie understood a TR-15H and B-25 radio better than any other signaller that I met and I am gratefull for all the times that she relayed messages for us. I am sorry to hear that she has passed away. I last saw her in Swakopmund in 1990 if I am not mistaken. Take care and cherish your memories as you can be proud of your parents. I salute all soldiers and civilians who served at 301 Bn as well as the soldiers of 61 Mech Bn (our neighbours), Etosha AME and other units on our flanks, front and rear. Greetings "Skollie"

Cody said...

Hi Wild Desert Child,

Not too sure where/when this post will end up, was hoping to be able to send directly to you. Yes, I was there. Spent most of '80 at 61 Mech, during Smokeshell and other stuff. Let me know how I can get my stories to you.

Regards,
Cody

Riana said...

Hi robc,

Thank u 4 the nice comment, and Anne, THANK U SO MUCH.

There was a problem and i cudnt c any of the posts left, but Neville (my wonderfull friend) have rectify it and i cud only read yr posts now.

Riana said...

Skollie,

Thank u so much 4 the wonderfull post, u wont know how much dat means to me.

Im curious, when u met my mum in Swakopmund, did she tell u she was writing a book about her experiences??
Did u give her R50.00 to send u the end product??
I remember she told me about a guy she met and the long chat she had with him....and 4 many yrs she kept dat note in her purse, she felt to bad to use it!!!PLZ mail me??? Neville have put my adress up now .
Am really looking 4ward to hear from u.
Riana

Riana said...

Cody,

Thank u so much 4 yr post, U will find my email addy under my intro on the main page of the blog, wud love to hear from u, but plz do feel free to post all the stories u have here too, if there is sumthing special u think i mite want to use in the blog PLZ send it to my mail.
Am looking 4ward to hear from u.
And i hope to get going on the blog soon agian, as soon as Neville can spare me and the blog a little time.
Hugs
Riana

Anonymous said...

I served as a member of SAP COIN at the Koevoet base at Oshivello in 1980. The members at this Koevoet base visited your parents in that time and we experienced incredible hospitality there. We were impressed with the "kitchen" or OPS room which was managed by your mother. My mother who used to live in Tsumeb knew your mother and father. I now live in Canada but think back with fond memories of people like your family that I had the privilege of meeting during those years.
God bless.

Anonymous said...

Ek was ook 'n ou Grensoorlog soldaat uit 3SAI SA wat hier in Sudwes kom veg het en later by SWATF en AME Grootfontein ingelyf was tot onttrekking. Die "Driehoek van die Dood" is bekend aan meeste van ons Grensoorlog sodate. Die onherbergsame omgewing rondom Tsumeb het soos tannie Pompie se verhaal baie gesprekke by ons soldate ontlok in dai tyd. Ek was meer bedrywig by sektore 10, 20 en 70 as rondom sektor 30 waar die helde verhaal van tannie Pompie en haar radio vaardighede 'n baie groot en onmisbare aanwins vir die AME's (so ook 61 MEG) in daardie omgewing in die Grensoorlog tyd was. Selfs vandag nog as ek van Otavi (SWASPES- Voetspoor) af Tsumeb toe ry dan kom sit haar verhaal as passasier langs my. Semper fi. Ollie Joubert 69523421