It's been a long time since I have made a posting here, after I have tried to get help for the veterans of the war and I got so little positive response i was very discouraged with everything.
But I am doing the happy dance since yesterday, and I just have to share with all of you a wonderful story.
About just more than a month ago I received a mail from a man called Deon Lamprecht, he is a reporter for Rapport and he made the 61 mech Veterans tour with them last year. He contacted me to say that he plans to write a book about the PEOPLE of Tsumeb and that he have read my blog and want to see me and my family.
We had contact for a while exchanging mails etc. Thursday night I met him. I introduced him to my family and Saturday and Sunday I spend time talking to him.
He wanted to know about my experiences as a child, how the war effected me, US..our family. We had a lekker chat.
Yesterday he came around to take photo's, and I bribed him not to with a good plate of curry... :-) But we had a good chat and without me asking him how it came to him wanting to write this book, he told me how it all came about, and here follow the story of how my little blog started all of this.
One of the 61 Mech Vets contacted Rapport to ask if they would not be interested in sending a reporter with on the tour they did last year to write about it. Attached to this email was the link of this very blog. I can remember receiving a mail from a lady saying she was with some paper in SA.. I replied, how many mails we exchanged I cant be certain of. This Lady had read my blog, liked it, contacted me and decided the Rapport will foot the bill and send Deon on the tour. When they came to Tsumeb they met up with locals and it was there that Deon decided he want to write a book about the people of Tsumeb and how the war affected them.
A book will be written.. and I am sure, after meeting the man who will write it.. and talking to him, that it will be good book, other than the other books, this one will be about the people.. not the war as such, but the effect the war had on the people... the facts, the stories and heartache.
I am pretty proud of myself and my little blog to have started such a great sequence of events. And.. most of all.... it feels to me as if I might have found a foothold to start with my big plan of getting help to the veterans of the war, the ones who are still living, in pain! I feel like saying "One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind "
5 comments:
Deur die blog te lees het my diep laat terug dink. 'n Skutter Bezuidenhout het op 15 April 1982 sy voet verloor deur op 'n personeelmyn te trap. Dit was die eerste aksie. 'n Paar uur later is die ratel uitgeskiet waar jou pa-hulle oorlede is. Een van die stories wat ek nooit sal vergeet nie, is dat 'n skutter Mostert wat bren 1 was gesien het die drywer (Hough) beweeg nog in die brandende ratel. Hy het opgesring onder swaar vuur en die drywer deur die sydeur by die toring verby gesleep om hom uit te kry. Ongelukkig te laat. Hy het 'n stuk skrapnel in die kop gehad tydens die gebeure. Die nag het ons weg getrek en 'n ent weg laer getrek. Wat my laat besef het 'n hoer hand was met ons was die bevelvoerder se besluit om nie met die kaplyn langs te ry nie. Die nag het 'n sagte stuifreen uitgesak. Toe ons die volgende oggend terug ry na die verlate rarel kom ons toe af op landmyne wat in die kaplyn gele was, wat sigbaar geraak het as gevolg van die reen. My baie gepla dat die een dag het Hy van ons weg gevat en die nag red hy ons van verdere ongevalle. Kapt Malan was toe alfa komanie se bevelvoerder.
Dink nie graag en praat glad nie oor die tyd, want dit het vandag nog 'n effek op my.
Hi Pine
Dankie vir jou stukkie hier. Na al die jare weet ons steeds nie hoe dit werk nie, doen ons?? Daar sal seker altyd vrae wees, maar met behulp van die blog het ek berusting gevind. Dinge moes gebeur soos hulle gebeur het. Wees bly dat julle lewendig daaruit gekom het.. Dit was so bedoel.
Wat wel pla is die engelse gesegde van "you live by the sword, you die by the sword" My pa was nie n geweldadige persoon nie, en die manier waarop hy gesterf het is heeltemal teenstrydig met sy lewe. Hy het geglo die tong is ons magtigste wapen!
As jy voel om te gesels kan jy my enige tyd kontak op die adres wat jy hier sal vind onder my foto.
Groete
Riana
Riana kan jy asseblief vir my jou e-mail adres stuur....
My e-mail adres is bellvillesuid@gmail.com.
Ek het ook die FB groep
GRENSOORLOG / BORDER WAR 1966-1989 en daar is ouens wat vir jou terugvoering wil gee!!
Hi Riana die is deur Generaal McGill Alexander op Grensoorlog blad gepos met die hoop dat jy dit sal kry..
Dear Riana,
I don't normally comment on Facebook pages, but after reading your story and the story related about how your father died in a SWAPO ambush, I feel I should share something with you. Back in early 1979 I was commanding a company of paratroopers from 1 Para Bn. B-Company had been doing operations almost continuously since early 1978, and in March 1979 we were flown up from Bloemfontein to take over the Fire Force at Ondangwa. My soldiers were weary after more than a year of repeated deployments and we had been back in Tempe for less than a week since our previous deployment in the Rundu area. They had just been presented with their Pro Patria medals when we were sent back to SWA, but they were as anxious as ever to get to grips with the enemy again. When we landed, we realised that we were at Grootfontein, not Ondangwa! We had been diverted. I was immediately sent up to the HQ and briefed by Brig Bosman and Col Eddie Webb from SWA Command in Windhoek. There had been a big infiltration by SWAPO and they had penetrated into the so-called "White Farmlands" south of the old Red Line. It was the start of Operation CARROT, which was to continue for several years. There were elements of SWAPO known to be in the mountains within a triangle formed by Tsumeb, Grootfontein and Otavi. The Ghaub Mission Station in the mountains was suspected of providing them with support. My company was tasked with searching for these elements and flushing them out of the mountains. I had to find a way to enter the mountains unobserved with my company, and settled for a plan whereby we were infiltrated in the cattle-trucks of local farmers, who would drop off sections at various points at night, without stopping, so that they could climb different peaks and establish temporary bases from which to operate. The plan was presented to the big shots and they approved it. All went well and the next day all nine sections of the company were in place and the Coy HQ was hidden near the top of one of the highest peaks, where we hoped to establish good radio communications. It was a very demanding time that we spent in those mountains, and the stories of what happened before the terrs were finally driven out of their hiding places and we were able to continue the hunt in the flat farmlands do not belong here. Suffice to say we had blisteringly hot days to contend with in the mountains, freezing nights, howling winds, mopani flies and a severe shortage of water. But our biggest problem throughout was to maintain radio communications!....
Continue
The terrain and the atmospheric conditions played havoc with our signals, and we struggled to keep in touch with our sections on VHF, but lost all contact with our higher HQ on HF. Then 91 came on the air! It was like a ray of light to us! This woman with the most beautiful voice who seemed to be able to make contact with us at all times! She was in contact with our higher HQ and she was able to relay messages for us. We made contact with her at scheduled times and were able to send our SITREPS and to receive fresh instructions. We could hear her talking to our higher HQ, but could not hear them, and she always relayed every message meticulously accurately. But she did far more than that. During the extended period that we operated in those dry, bush-covered, densely forested and rocky mountains we needed resupply, and she arranged that for us, with surreptitious deliveries at predetermined spots at night by local farmers from the Commando. I made a note in the Company Diary at the time: "There is a woman signaller on one of the relay stations who really is good! She grasps situations rapidly and relays messages accurately - in sharp contrast to many of the men manning sets!!" The barren rocks that the troops had to clamber across were razor sharp and cut their boots to ribbons. We had to request new boots and the Quartermaster at Grootfontein was reluctant to comply to our request. But he had not bargained on Tannie Pompie! We heard her sort him out on the radio in no uncertain terms and we rolled around laughing at the way she put him in his place and reminded him that we were the ones doing the fighting while he sat in his comfortable, air-conditioned store! She spoke to our senior officers about "My seuns daar bo in die berge", told them she would not allow them to neglect us and she adopted a motherly ownership of us. My paratroopers adored her and thought she was the greatest! A real angel from heaven with their interests at heart. If you had asked any one of them over that period who was the best chick in the world, there is no doubt that 91 would have carried away the prize. Sadly, none of those soldiers ever met her, as we went from the mountains straight into the hunt on the plains and those brave men cleared out of the Army at the end of their National Service in June of that year. It was only in 1982 that I was able to meet Tannie Pompie - your wonderful mother. Unfortunately, it was a sad time, as it was during Operation YAHOO and your father had just been killed in that terrible ambush. At the time I was commanding E-Company, 1 Parachute Battalion and we were attached to 61 Mechanised Battalion Group. My own Company 2IC, Captain Leon van Wyk, was also killed in a contact with SWAPO during that operation. Your dear mother will not remember me, as she was understandably very emotional when I spoke to her, but I want you to know what a wonderful job she did and how deeply she crept into the hearts of the paratroopers she helped so very long ago.
God bless you.
McGill Alexander
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