STORIES VAN SAP KING S REST: Hennie

Hennie Heymans

SAP King’s Rest-dae

O, Mammie wat het Mammie gedoen!!??

Dis in 1968 en ek werk middagskof van 13:45 tot 22:00. Ek is sersant en is die wyksersant en patrolliewabestuurder te SAP King’s Rest. Ek geniet my werk verskriklik en jaag rond om klagtes by te woon. Destyds het dit so gewerk: Radiobeheer stuur jou na verskillende klagtes en om tyd te bespaar het elke misdryf ‘n kode. So was “kode 14” ‘n botsing; ‘n “kode 20” was rusverstoring terwyl ‘n dronk persoon ‘n “kode 28” was. Ons het natuurlik behalwe jou flits ook ‘n klomp dossiere, ongeluksvorms, dagvaardigingsboekie (UDJ 534) en geel SAP 4-vorms byderhand gehad. So kry ek ‘n klagte van diefstal. Ek arriveer by die redelike groot winkel en die bestuurder kla van ‘n saak van diefstal. In die hoek staan ‘n Ouma – redelike ineen getrek, so asof sy haar vir die polisie klein wil maak. Die bestuurder kla dat die Ouma ‘n tolletjie gare gesteel het. Ek vra dadelik wat dit kos en bied aan om uit my sak daarvoor te betaal. Die winkelbestuurder is adamant. Hy wil die arme Ouma vervolg. Ek noem aan hom dat dit ‘n baie geringe sakie is en die howe en regstelsel is oorlaai. Hy hou voet by stuk en eis dat ons die verdagte aankla. Daardie dag het ek besonder sleg gevoel omdat ek empatie met die bejaarde gehad het. Ek arresteer die verdagte en ons gaan na die patrolliewa. Ek vra die bemanning om uit te klim en laat die verdagte voor by ons in die middel sit. Ons kom by die polisiestasie en registreer die saak, handig die bewysstuk in, en hou die ou dame aan. Intussen skakel ek haar dogter wat ouer is as ek, om na die polisiestasie te kom. Die gereg moet sy gang gaan. Na ‘n rukkie hou die dogter by die polisiestasie stil en betree die aanklagtekantoor. Sy bars in trane uit toe sy haar verwese moedertjie sien en skree-huil: “O Mammie wat het Mammie gedoen, o wat het Mammie gedoen?” Ons staan almal verleë. Natuurlik kan ek verstaan dat enige ou mens kan vergeet om vir ‘n artikel te betaal. Dis lekker om polisieman te wees, maar sulke insidente ruk jou tot in jou siel omdat enige polisieman maar empatie het met mense. Ons het die ou Tante in die sorg van haar dogter vrygelaat en vir hof gewaarsku. Dis die laaste wat ek van die saak gehoor het MAAR ek het nooit vergeet nie!

Diefstal van Weenseworsies

No 30320P sersant “Wessie” van der Westhuizen het ‘n klagte van diefstal by die plaaslike slaghuis bygewoon. Hy het my van die saak vertel. Die slagter kla dat ‘n goeie kliënt elke Saterdag ‘n klomp vleis kom koop en dan steel hy ‘n pakkie Weenseworsies. ‘Sant Wessie was ‘n “ou man” met baie ervaring. Hy raai toe die slagter aan om eerder elke Saterdag, as hy vermoed die

verbruiker het Weenseworsies gesteel, dan voeg hy maar net die bedrag by – so is almal te vrede: Die slagter kry sy geld vir die worsies en die verbruiker is gelukkig hy dink hy het ‘n pakkie Weenseworsies verniet gekry. Ja, Boerewysheid kan werk.

Wanneer dronkbestuur ook nie dronkbestuur is nie

Een dag werk ek weer middag aflossing. So by 20:00 ontvang ek berig van ‘n “kode 14” –‘n botsing. Ek arriveer op die toneel. Ek spreek beide bestuurders. In daardie dae moes ons elke botsing bywoon en daarna behalwe vir die invul van vorm SAP 352 (S 68) moes ons ook ‘n plan en sleutel tot plan opstel. Ek kry die voertuie se besonderhede (lisensie skyfie nommer en derde party nommer) en neem die afmetings. Redelike gevaarlike werk om in die nag in ‘n donkerblou uniform in en langs die pad afmetings te neem. Die stasiebevelvoerder kom by die toneel aan en vra of alles onder beheer is? Ek meld aan hom dat die bestuurder van die tweede voertuig, wat die botsinkie veroorsaak het, al hoe dronker word. Die SB gelas my om die man na die distrikgeneesheer (DG) te neem. Ons ry nou van die Bluff (naby die hawe) na Durban-Sentraal. Ons moet die DG ontbied. Ons wag. Beskuldigde word al hoe dronker! Die DG daag op en terwyl hy besig is om sy vorms in te vul word ons deur die dronk bestuurder “aangeval”. Hy het skielik opgespring en die brandblusser gegryp en ons met skuim bespuit. Die DG bevind dat die bestuurder inderdaad dronk is. Ek kla die man aan vir dronkbestuur. Later moet ek in die hof getuig. Ek het in talle dronkbestuursake getuig – selfs al was die DG nie beskikbaar nie, het ek steeds veroordelings gekry. Ek lewer getuienis en die landdros vra my toe wat ek van die saak dink. Ek vertel die landdros dat in my opinie die man nugter was toe hy die ligte botsinkie veroorsaak het. Iemand het voor hom stilgehou en dit was net die buffers wat beskadig was. Ek vertel toe: Hoe later, hoe kwater. Die beskuldigde word vry gespreek op dronkbestuur. Na die tyd, buite die hof kom die beskuldigde na my en bedank my vir my eerlikheid. Hy vertel my dat hy ‘n huursoldaat in die Kongo was en dat hy werk by die SAS&H gekry het as hyskraanbestuurder op die kaai. Die betrokke aand verwittig sy kollega hom dat hy wel moet kom werk, maar dat daar by sy hyskraan geen skip sal wees nie. Hy beplan toe om ‘n bottel drank uit te drink, hawe toe te ry, op te klim na sy kajuit en die nag daar lekker te slaap! Iets waarvoor hy natuurlik betaal sal word! Min het hy geweet dat hy drie – vier minute voor hy sy bestemming sou bereik ook met die gereg sou bots!

West’s Hotel: Kings Rest Precinct

Richard Van Wyk on 9 Feb. 2021 om 12:59.

Harbour Hideaway Durban. Historical landmark build 1899.

Seaman of the world meet hereall foreign currencies were accepted. The Trust Hotel

(Photo John Hone)

When stationed at SAP King's Rest and the hotel and the Admiralty Lands (the Bluff proper) formed part of our beat. To attend complaints at the Wests Hotel we had to travel overland to Point, take the ferry and attend to the complaint. There were no roads only railway lines to Wests. Sometimes the Water Police gave us a lift from Island View. One night the Water Police dropped us off - after initial investigation we made an arrest for theft.

So, there we were standing at the wharf, an African Constable, myself and the suspect, an Indian gentleman and some fishing rods that he allegedly had stolen. Our Police Van was at Island View. So, after a while a shunting steam engine passes us and comes back, the stoker shouted: "Haai Hennie!" We were at school together and he left school during standard 7 to join the SAR. So, I asked for a lift to Island View. All three of us got onto the footplate of the locomotive with the fishing rods. I asked the driver if he could "spin" the engine and he gave me an exhibition with his Class H locomotive, we got off at near Island View and returned to normal mode of transport. I once attended to a murder of a prostitute and there was an argument between the detectives of the Railways Police and the SA Police about exactly “where the murder took place.” If the corpse was east of a large water pipe it was the SAP who had to attend and if it was west of the pipe the Railways Police had to attend. After a few calls it was decided the SAR Police would investigate because she was west of the line.

I had exciting days in the Police and I even got paid for it!!!

Morning Oom Hennie Stumbled upon this Old Image of the Bluff. No idea when taken but must have been in the 50's I assume if one looks at how under developed the mangrove area is. All of that was already part of the harbour by the time I was born in 1971. Regards Note by HBH:- Paul also sent to historical articles on the Bluff. The red dot indicates SAP King’s Rest

Paul du Preez.

Hier is ‘n verkorte weergawe van die inligting gedateer 1962 wat Paul vir ons gestuur het oor die Zanzibari-nedersetting op die Bluff te Durban. “Hoog op die Bluff wat op Durban se hawe uitkyk, woon 500 Zanzibari-Arabiere wie se afsonderlike identiteit verlore sal gaan as gevolg van die 'afsonderlike ontwikkelings'-beleid van die Nasionale regering. In 1873 is 23 volwassenes en ongeveer sestig kinders deur die Britse vloot uit Arabiese slawedae gered en na Durban gebring. 'n Moslemse liefdadigheidsorganisasie het hulle te hulp gekom en 25 hektaar grond op die destyds feitlik geïsoleerde Bluff gegee. Daar kon hulle, met die min middele wat hulle gehad het, 'n aangename gemeenskap in 'n moskee en 'n godsdiensskool vir hul kinders ontwerp. Oor die jare heen het baie van hulle Engels leer praat, maar Swahili is nog steeds hul huistaal en Arabies is die taal van hul godsdiens. Hulle het nogal 'n vreedsame en insulêre lewe gelei 'wat min aandag getrek het”. • Destyds toe ek op King’s Rest was het ek nooit probleme met hulle ervaar nie. Hulle het IDkaarte ipv bewysboeke gedra.

THE NATAL MOUNTED POLICE later the NATAL POLICE finally the 2nd and 3rd Regiments of the SA MOUNTED RIFLES

Raised by Major John George annexed the Transvaal, a 25 Dartnell in 1874, the N.M.P. was -strong N.M.P. contingent never given the same opportuni- acted as his sole escort. ties as the Frontier Armed and Moreover, of those men who Mounted Police, later Cape served in the Zulu War of Mounted Riflemen, and the unit 1879, over 30 of them lost always had difficulty in trying to their lives at Isandhlwana. obtain proper arms and equipment. 256 Medals were awarded Nonetheless, it always attracted a 'very good class of recruit', and in 1877, when Shepstone to the Natal Mounted Police, 167 of them with the '1879' clasp.

DIMMICK, OLIVER Africa. Milton of the same Corps from falling Rank: Major Date of Death: 22/09/1916 Regiment/Service: South African Mounted Rifles 2nd. Grave Reference: Cemetery DURBAN (ORDNANCE ROAD) MILITARY CEMETERY A picture of his grave can be seen at this link http://www.eggsa.org/cgi-bin/ library/searchGraves.pl Particulars of Services in respect of which the name of Inspector Oliver Dimmick, Natal Police, was brought to the notice of the Commandant of into the enemy's hands. Trumpeter Milton was wounded and surrounded by the enemy, but was eventually conveyed to a place of safety by means of Inspector Dimmick's action in proceeding to his rescue and keeping the enemy at bay. Militia. Apparently he is buried in a steel coffin During the night attack on the Natal H. T. BRU-DE-WOLD, Colonel, Comat Old Fort after his body was exhumed Police at the Impanza River on the mandant of Militia. and brought to Durban from Windhoek. night of the 4th April, 1906, Inspector Additional Information: Husband of Oliver Dimmick, Natal Police, displayed Mrs Dimmick of Pietmaritzburg, South great gallantry in rescuing, Trumpeter

Below left: Major Oliver Dimmick, and Above: Inspector Oliver Dimmick, bottom row centre. :

Art Supplement To ‘The Nongqai.’’]

[June, 1911

NATAL POLICE CORONATION CONTINGENT AND HOME BISLEY TEAM, IN THE S.A.P. UNIFORM.

Top Row:- Sergt. Court, Tprs. Van Wyk, Brooke-Smith, Marais, De Beer, Sergt. Rogers, Sergt. Lawson, Tpr. Els. Bottom Row:-(Standing) Sergt. Sturgeon, Tpr. Woods, (Sitting): Tprs. King, Davis, Col. Clarke (C.C.), Inspr. Dimmick, Tpr. Schultz, Tpr. Moore, (Standing): Sergt. H. R. Wilson, and Sergt. Stephens. Tpr. D. Tew was unfortunately absent when this photo was taken.

1911—First SAP uniform, although SAP only came into being formally from 1913.

Above: Inspector Oliver Dimmick, bottom row centre. Below: Major Oliver Dimmick, circa 1916, front row second from right

ABOVE: NATAL POLICE FIELD FORCE, TUGELA HEIGHTS, JANUARY, 1900 Standing (L-R): Sergts. Sturgeon, Gray, Perkins, Andrews. Sitting (L-R): Sergt. Walsh, Sup-Insp. Abrahams, Sub-Insp. Maxwell, Sergts. Stevens, Lane BELOW: GROUP OF OFFICERS OF THE NATAL POLICE WHO TOOK PART IN THE PARADE IN CONNECTION WITH THE DUKE OF CONNAUGHT'S VISIT. (THE NONGQAI ART SUPPLEMENT MARCH 1911) Standing (L-R): Sub-Inspectors Hamilton, West, Borgnis and Caminada. Sitting: Sub-Inspector Clifton, Inspector Bousfield, Inspector and Adjudant Dimmick, Inspector Maxwell, and Sub-Inspector Esmonde-White.

Reminiscences of the 1922 strike: Constable H.J.B Feideler

Time has dimmed some of the incidents, while many of the names of comrades who participated, have disappeared into the limbo of the forgotten. There are, however, certain events concerned with the fateful months of the 1922 strike, that stand out clearly in my memory, as though they occurred only yesterday. I can also still recall the names of Captain Leishman, Constables Wayland, Groenewald and Bill Abrahams. The word ‘strike’, when applied to the upheaval of 1922, is really a misnomer, for it was more like a civil war, with brother fighting brother and father lifting his hand against his own son. For me and some of those mentioned above, it started off by being detailed for special duty at Witbank. As the train picked us up along the line, from Messina to Pretoria, we were a gay and rowdy crowd and there was a lot of speculation about how long we would be absent. Most of us thought about a week, or at the upmost fourteen days; few, however, bargained for an absence of nearly three months and, few indeed, anticipated the hardships and hazards we were to endure, or the distastefulness of the job we would be called upon to perform. Our arrival at Witbank was almost the occasion of a public holiday; the town people turning out in masses to meet us at the railway station. Fear, uneasiness and a cessation of business engendered by the strike and which had prevailed before, was to a measure dispelled after our arrival and the town people feted and made much of us. But these halcyon days were short-lived and, less than a week later, saw us installed in tents on the Wanderers Grounds in Johannesburg. We were a large body of men – I believe about on thousand –each fully equipped with horse, saddle, rifle and ammunition. My main recollection of the Wanderers Grounds was an unpleasant incident, culminating in a near mutiny, when the men, nerves frayed by the ubiquitous fly and the incessant rain – the former brought about by the insanitary conditions and the close proximity of the horses to the tents – rose in a body, to protest against the badly cooked and inadequate food. The unfortunate Orderly Officer of the day, upon calling for complaints, was met by a fusillade of bully-beef tins and loaves of puffy bakers’ bread. Some even flung their mugs, filled with a dishwater-coloured fluid that passed for coffee, at him. It was only, by the exercise of extreme agility, that the poor man made his escape, to return shortly afterwards, accompanied by a coterie of highly placed officers. An indaba was held, at which angry recriminations were freely bandied and a lot of promises made. Promises, which the men thought would not be fulfilled, as they sullenly retired to their tents.

(Continued from page 65)

Imagine our surprise, however, when a few hours’ later, heavy Leyland lorries, laden to capacity with assorted provisions, started rolling into camp. One vehicle in particular, evoked a lot of interest; for on it was a pre-fabricated wood-and-iron building, which workmen started to erect, immediately after it had been offloaded. Our enthusiasm knew no bounds when, after aforesaid building had been completed, a second truck arrived, groaning under its load of beer cases, to stock this temporary bar; for such it proved to be. That evening, the contented murmur of a thousand voices, rose to a mighty hum, as the men lay around on the grass, drinking beer from bottles. This event signalled the breakup of the camp; the men, thereafter, being dispersed over the vast complex of the Witwatersrand area.

My contingent was sent to Boksburg and it is only of this theatre of operations, I intend writing thereafter. I naturally heard a lot about the happenings at Brixtonridge and elsewhere, but my recollections of these are too sketchy and incomplete to enable me to form a coherent picture. At Boksburg we were encamped on a football field at the back of the police station and a seemingly endless round of day and night mounted patrols began. At first the strikers were friendly and polite, but as incidents increased, the tension mounted up and I can remember occasions when we were reviled and cursed by men and women alike. Especially the women seemed to find delight in heaping on us all the obscenities they could lay their tongues to. If we suffered indignities, it was nothing to what the men of the Police Reserve had to endure. These men, recruited locally, were looked upon as renegades by the strikers, and for them was reserved the most bitter opprobrium. The women spat at them and the most favourite insult hurled at them by the strikers, was: “You dirty five bob bastards”. Notwithstanding this antipathy, the camp was the favourite rendezvous for the young girls of the town and, on most days, a half dozen or more, could be seen hanging around its environs. The interminable patrols continued and as incidents increased, our nights became more disturbed. We hardly ever completely undressed, for when an

(Continued from page 66)

alarm was sounded, we were given exactly five minutes, from the time the whistle blew, to dress, find your horse on the picket line, saddle up and be on parade, fully equipped, ready to move off. We were six men to a bell tent and each man slept with his rifle and kit hugged close to his body. There just wasn’t the time to grope about in the dark for missing articles. Eventually the strikers began to openly hold drill parades and make other militarily preparations. This culminated in a severe clash with the Police, when they attempted to release by force, several of their leaders who had been arrested some days previously for seditious acts and who where then locked up in the Cinderella Prison. The turmoil and confusion of the evening still stands out clearly in my mind. Our officer – I believe it was Captain Leishman –called on them to disperse and when they disobeyed, gave the order for the first troop to charge (I was in the third troop).

of the horse’s iron-shod hooves, on the hard surface of the road, as they were spurred away from a standing start; the crash as the horses struck the massed strikers; the yells; the screams of agony and above all the dull thud of the batons, punctuated by an occasional shot. Then suddenly, it was our turn to go, but by now the main body of strikers had parted and reformed on either side of the street, in the dark shadows cast by the trees. They had also armed them-

selves with jagged pieces of granite, from a nearby prison quarry and as we swept in between them, we were greeted by a deadly hail of stones that caused havoc in our ranks. My position was on one of the extreme flanks and as we rode in, I recollect seeing a man emerge from out of the shadows, who was carrying an outsize hunk of rock in his back flung hand. I was obviously his target as he edged forward, but fortunately for me, in his eagerness to get within effective range, he inadvertently stepped off the edge of the pavement, at the moment of throwing, thus spoiling his aim. The stone passed harmlessly over my horse’s neck and the next moment, standing up in my stirrups, I brought my baton down with a satisfying thwack on his head. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him pitch forward, down between the galloping horse’s legs. Some minutes later, all was over, with the striker’s on the run, leaving two or three of their

sustained the injuries. This event was followed, shortly afterwards, by the dreadful carnage, inflicted on the Transvaal Scottish, as they were detraining at Dunswart. From accounts, the striker’s heavily armed – having evidently received prior intelligence of the movement of troops – were lying in ambush in an adjacent plantation, when the

Transvaal Scottish alighted from the train. Holding their fire until all had assembled on the platform, they opened up with devastating effect, practically wiping out the whole contingent. This apparently brought matters to a head, for on a Sunday morning shortly afterwards, my contingent formed part of a massive convergence of forces on Benoni. Police, Defence, Artillery and Citizen Forces, were in evidence as we moved forward. As a precautionary measure, we had scouting parties riding ahead. There was a flurry of shots and one party came galloping back, to report having been fired upon. One member of the party said: “Man, a bullet came so close, it jerked my helmet”. Actually, how close that bullet had been, he only realized

when someone pointed out a neat hole, with a corresponding one at the back, just above the badge on his helmet. We, thereafter, proceeded cautiously and eventually drew up in array behind the Benoni Sanitary Compound, where a consultation between the respective commanding officers took place.

numbers dead. As far as I can remember no policemen were killed during that clash, although quite a few were wounded. Captain Leishman who somehow had been cornered in a cul-de-sac, by a number of striker’s during the melee, was so severely beaten up, that he was forced to spend some

weeks in hospital. Taking stock of my personal injuries, in my tent later that same night, I found I was a mass of bruises from the hips upward. Examining a jagged tear in my helmet, I realized that but for the protection afforded by that useful piece of headgear; I would probably have been brained.

Sandbagged defences at Johannesburg Town Hall The Cape Times, March 11 1922

Then once again we were on the march, my contingent moving back along the railway line for a short distance, before cutting the wires and crossing it. Our task was to encircle the Dunswart race course and the iron-foundry from the east, before proceeding on Benoni. Well on the fringe of the racetrack we dismounted, leaving the third man in each four as horse holder. Proceeding across the bare racetrack in extended order, we came under heavy fire from the direction of the foundry and plantation, on the opposite side of the track. Several men were killed that day crossing the racetrack; among others a certain Warrant Officer Milne of the Police and an unknown Lieutenant of the military forces. Being a callow inexperienced youth at the time, I might have suffered the same fate, had it not been for the wise council of my half-section Bill Abrahams, a veteran of the 1914 – 1918 war. It was he who instructed me how to chose my objectives carefully, before getting up and running; to make use of every bit of cover and of every fold in the ground; to get up as if ejected from a catapult and to fall again as if shot; to put up the heaviest possible barrage of rifle fire before getting up and to run in a zigzag manner. Half-way across the racetrack, the heavy boom of big guns to our rear, heralded the coming into action of the artillery and soon the plantation and iron foundry were infernos of bursting shells. This quickly put paid to the strikers, who hurriedly withdrew into Benoni. Soon thereafter, we occupied their positions, finding quite a lot of abandoned equipment; among other things, homemade hand grenades made of syrup tins, filled with scraps of iron and sticks of dynamite, complete with detonator and a short length of fuse to explode same. The strikers had a neat network of trenches in the plantation, the layout of which, as well as the manner in which they conducted their operations, bore that semblance of military orderliness, usually associated with a regular disciplined force. This will be better understood if it is mentioned that many of them were soldiers of the 1914 –1918 war, while probably quite a few were officers of fairly high rank. They, of course, had no heavy guns, but what they lacked in artillery, they made up for in the accuracy of their shooting. I remember one of our horse holders, who stood leaning against an iron fencing standard, getting his back-side and other parts of his anatomy peppered with fragments from a shattered bullet, fired from an innocuous looking patch of mealies, about eight hundred yards distant on his left flank. Fortunately for him, the bullet struck the standard. Another instance where a man’s bravado proved his undoing, was that of the Transvaal Scottish soldier, who despite the warnings of his comrades, persisted in exposing himself unnecessarily in an opening in the plantation, facing Benoni. Suddenly he toppled with a bullet wound in the thigh, while from Benoni – a good nine hundred to a thousand yards away – came the flat ‘khu-ka’ report of a Mauser rifle. That same day a government forces reconnaissance aeroplane was also shot down by rifle fire. After cleaning up the Dunswart area, we moved into Benoni. Many streets had been barricaded and the fighting shifted from barricade to barricade, with a lot of sharpshooting taking place from the tops of tall buildings. As we moved forward, buildings on our flanks were systematically searched and all males found taken into custody. It was alleged that many of the males changed into women’s clothes and thus attired carried on the fight. I personally, did not find any men so dressed. It was while assisting in the searching of houses, that I had a narrow shave. Knocking on the front door of a dwelling and receiving no answer, I walked around the side where a rainwater tank was situated. Passing the tank, I unexpectedly found a window behind it and glancing in, saw a man training a rifle on me. I jumped back so violently that my rifle knocked my helmet off. A shot exploded and a bullet ricochets away from the surface of the path, a few feet in front of me. Simultaneously I heard footsteps inside the house, racing towards the back and I also wended my way towards the back entrance with all expe-

dieny, arriving just in time to see a man dash from the door and go flying down the garden path, towards the backyard wall. Without taking proper aim and more as a reflex action, I pointed my rifle in his direction and pulled the trigger, just as he leaped from the wall. He fell back, screaming like a stuck pig, while I, having no time to waste – and rather callously, I am afraid – ran on to the next house. However, a few minutes later, I met an ambulance unit, whom I directed back to the wounded man. Later in the day I learnt that he had been only lightly wounded in the buttocks, which part of his anatomy, no doubt, had been uppermost as he tried to negotiate the backyard wall. Towards afternoon the firing died down and somehow or other I gravitated towards the mortuary. Here I found a number of reluctant temporary morticians placing scores of bodies into coffins. I strolled about and saw row upon row of bodies laid out. I did not count the bodies, but have a vague idea I was told that there were over forty. One body in particular, still stands clearly etched in my memory. It was that of a male, with a wound in the abdomen, covered by a layer of bloodied froth. The business centre of Benoni was a shamble. Plate glass windows of business premises had been smashed and goods looted. Some of the merchandise was still lying about the streets and guards were mounted to

prevent further looting. A detachment of us moved on to Brakpan that same afternoon. It became dark before we got there and later a searchlight, mounted in a mine headgear, caught us in its beam and we came under sporadic fire, with the bullets coming uncomfortably close. We later discovered, to our intense indignation, that it was our own people who had fired at us, under the mistaken impression that we were strikers. We dossed down at one of the mines that night and the next morning we wandered through Brakpan. We found that it had suffered just as much as Benoni from looting. There was plate glass scattered over the pavements and streets and most of the merchandise had been removed.

A notice in a window, crudely printed on a piece of cardboard, caught my attention and made me smile. It read: “Will the person who took the ice-cream machine, come back for the remaining parts, for I am sure the machine as it is, can be of no use to him”. A day or two later found us back at Boksburg again – this time encamped at the Cason Staff Quarters. Martial law was still in force and liquor of any kind was unobtainable – that is, to all excepting the select few who had the good fortune to occupy our tent. For, although I have not mentioned it before, my pal Bill Abrahams, among his other accomplishments, was also an expert

scrounger. Many were nocturnal raids on the quartermaster’s dumps, with our nosebags slung across his shoulders. Great was his diplomacy, when it came to cultivating good relations with the regimental cooks. Consequently, our horses were the sleekest and we were the best fed men in camp. As for liquor, every bottle of whiskey we consumed, a full one would mysteriously appear. When questioned as to the source of his supplies, Abrahams would become evasive and vaguely hint about his ex-S.A.C friend, who was supposed to be managing a club, somewhere in the vicinity. Even some of our officers surreptitiously visited our tent for a drop of the stuff that cheers. It was round about this time that the Bondelswart campaign was first mentioned and volunteers were called for. I rushed off to register my name, only to be told that I was too young and inexperienced and that only men with previous war experience were being selected. I was bitterly disappointed, but there was nothing to be done about it and so a few days later, I found myself on a train, with my kitbag, rifle and blankets, returning to my station. I was not much older than I had been when I had left some three months previously, but I had gained considerably in experience during that period.

Deur Rika van Graan

Bron van dokument: Paul Els het die artikel vir my gestuur en die artikel is na bewering deur ‘n persoon geskryf en op die sosiale media versprei. Ek het navorsing gedoen en vasgestel dat Rika van Graan die artikel geskryf het en ek die artikel op die volgende webwerf gekry: 19601013NewAgeDrDadooRest rained.pdf - Ahmed Timol https://www.ahmedtimol.co.za› articles

Ek dink die artikel is relevant vir ons polisiegeskiedenis want dit belig ‘n “anderkant” van ons geskiedenis en bevestig ‘n “ander tydsgewrig”. Geskiedenis moet egter in konteks gesien word want dit is vir “politieke doeleindes” geskryf. Die brigadier was HNP-kandidaat. Lt.genl. Andre Beukes ooggetuie en was by die Israeligyselaarsdrama betrokke en ons het reeds sy weergawe en die van genl.maj. JAP Burger oor die bepaalde gebeure in Nongqai geplaas. In verlede maand se spesiale uitgawe het dr Steenkamp ook na brig. Swanepoel verwys en ons het vir hom om kommentaar gevra wat ons elders sal plaas.

Hy was met oorgawe 'n polisieman en het met oorgawe in die SAP en sy land gedien. Met onuitputlike energie en deursettingsvermoë het hy altyd voorgeloop wanneer 'n operasie uitgevoer moes word. Die bynaam "ROOI RUS" het hy gekry toe hy as hoofondervraer van die Veiligheidspolisie menige Kommunis in die vroeë sestigerjare laat knak het. Brig Swanepoel is op 29 Februarie in 1928 op Stanger in Natal gebore en het later in Leeugamka opgegroei toe sy ouers daarheen verhuis het. Op 19 jarige ouderdom sluit hy op 5 Junie 1947 by die Polisie aan. Hy trou op 12 Mei 1951 met sy vrou Sera Johanna. Hulle twee dogters Petro en Erika is uit die huwelik gebore. Die Rooi Rus word hoofondervraer van die Spesiale Afdeling in die Veiligheidspolisie toe die Suid-Afrikaanse regering vroeg in die 1960's oorlog verklaar teen Kommunisme. In sy hoedanigheid as hoofondervraer het hy ook die teiken geword van die arrogante linkse persgroepe in die land en is hy sodoende soms beskuldig van dinge wat gebeur het maar dan was hy elders besig. So was hy dan ook daarvan beskuldig dat hy Ahmed Timol op John Vorsterplein by 'n venster op die tiende verdieping sou uitgegooi het. Maar die teendeel is dat hy in daardie stadium in die hospitaal was. Vele Kommuniste het deur sy hande gegaan en vele het so verkrummel tydens ondervraging sodat die regering in daardie dae Kommunisme in Suid-Afrika in bedwang kon hou. Met vernuf en onverskrokkenheid het hy onder luit. genl. Tiny Venter sy taak verrig. Dis in die tyd dat die Rivonia-arrestasies ook uitgevoer is waartydens Nelson Mandela en sy meelopers nagelang gearresteer is. Die volgende eerste vir die Rooi Rus was toe hy die eerste polisiebasis in Ovamboland in die noorde van Suidwes Afrika in 1967 gaan begin het. Die doel was om die instroming van terroriste hier hok te slaan. Sy eerste basis was Katima Mulilo (wat beteken vuur doodgemaak) in die Caprivistrook noord van Botswana. Hiervandaan het die Rooi Rus menige geslaagde aanvalle oorkant die Zambezierivier geloods en in die proses terroristekampe uitgewis wat binne dae die grens na Suidwes sou oorsteek. Hy het soms manalleen oorgrense verkenningstogte uitgevoer en na behoorlike observasie sy teenaanvalle geloods. Die Rooi Rus het net met mense wat hy as vriende beskou het die Slag van Singalumwe bespreek waartydens hy en vyf uitgesoekte manne in die nag vanuit 'n helikopter in die mees gevaarlikste omstandighede 'n hele terroriste basis uitgewis het. Hy het altyd met die hoogste agting vertel hoe Aap Möller behendig die helikopter laag bokant die boomtoppe gevlieg het sodat hy en sy manne met R4-gewere die lugaanval kon loods. Een van die manskappe was Schalk Visser, later 'n brigadier in die Veiligheidspolisie. Terwyl die Rooi Rus die noordelike basis beheer het, het Zambiese terroriste hom voëlvry verklaar en 'n losprys van 500 000 Amerikaanse dollar op sy kop gehad. Die Rooi Rus het in sy stryd teen die insypelende terroriste geen rus vir sy siel gehad nie en met 'n minimum slaap kon hy weke en maande sy mense en sy land dien. In sy tyd was kapt Blackie Swart van Alberton een van die eerste drie lotgevalle tydens 'n terroriste aanval in Ovamboland. So het die bevel ook van Pretoria gekom in 1973 dat brig Swanepoel en vyf uitgesoekte manne die TANZAM-spoorlyn tussen Lusaka en Luanda moet gaan opblaas. Weereens het die Rooi Rus sy vertroue in die vernuf en getrouheid van Aap Moller geplaas. Voor dagbreek het Aap hulle met sy laagvliegende helikopter teen die hange van die berge waar die Drietooninwoners woon, neergelaat. Hy het vertel: Ons het ooreengekom dat Aap ons sou kom “lig” as daar probleme sou opduik of as ons klaar was met die sending. Dit was so teen elfuur dat ons agterkom dat die terroriste weet van ons teenwoordigheid en besig was om ons te omsingel. Ons het geroep na Aap en geroep, maar al wat “inkom” was hy. Die brigadier vertel dat ons het geweet dat as Aap ons nie “lig” nie sal ons die nag vermoor word. Toe hulle byna moedopgegee het dat redding sou kom, hoor hulle met skemer die helikopter. Dit was toe Aap. Maar toe die Rooi Rus by hom wou weet waarom hy nie op bystand was nie beduie Aap dat hy moet stilbly. In die skemer toe hulle in veilige gebied vlieg merk die Rooi Rus vir die eerste keer op wie saam met hulle in die helikopter is. Toe word dit vir hom duidelik waarom Aap Moller hulle nie op tyd kon lig nie. In die helikopter was die destydse minister van verdediging, mnr PW Botha en gevolg. Hulle het die magte gaan besoek en moes toe op 'n besigtigingstoer oor die VictoriaWatervalle vlieg. Dis waar die Rooi Rus se bloed

begin kook het en na 'n woordewisseling met die minister toe die helikopter op die aanloopbaan by Katima Mulilo land hy hom met 'n skop onder die agterstewe uithelp. Dit was die einde van die Rooi Rus in die noorde van Suidwes en deur middel van opdrag van Mnr Botha moes hy teruggetrek word waar hy in 1973 hoof van die Johannesburgse Blitspatrollie word. Hy was terug op die plek waar hy jare gelede as jong polisieman die bomplanter by Langlaagte spoorwegstasie gearresteer het. Maar nou as bevelvoerder het hy "my seuns" soos hy hulle genoem het begeester om net die beste te gee vir die SA Polisie en hul medemens. Kriminele en veral gewapende rowers en motordiewe het hul rieme styfgeloop want die Rooi Rus was altyd beskikbaar en het sy manne gewys hoe om dinge te doen. Talle kere moes hy polisiemanne se huislike probleme oplos en kon hy dit doen want hy het 'n onbevlekte lewe geleef en altyd die voorbeeld gestel. Hy was nooit met vakansie nie. Hy was altyd beskikbaar met raad en daad. In die tyd is hy ook bestuurder van die polisie se judospan wat 'n hele paar Springbokke opgelewer het. Sy skoonseun en dogter Erika is deel van die span. Op 25 April 1975 word die Rooi Rus se vernuf weereens beproef met die beleg van die Israelse Ambassade in Foxstraat, Johannesburg. David Protter en sy broer hou verskeie mense gyselaar en die Rooi Rus ontplooi sy manne op die grond en in en op aangrensende geboue neem polisie skerpskutters stelling in. Maar brig Swanepoel, onverskrokke soos hy bekend was staan oop en bloot onder in die straat by sy patrolliemotor en met 'n luidspreker kommunikeer hy met die beserkers. Minister van Polisie en die Kommissaris vlieg van die Kaap af na Johannesburg maar alles is onder beheer. Die Rooi Rus is op sy pos en ondersteun sy manne. Teen dagbreek is die

beleg verby en die twee broers is inhegtenis geneem. Junie 1976 met die Sowetoonluste moet die Rooi Rus weer die leisels opneem nadat hoër offisiere aan die slaap gevang is. In die hitte van die stryd moet hy en sy manne wat van rusdae opgeroep is 'n massa tierende dreigende jeugdiges stuit. Die atmosfeer is gelaai en toe gooi een van die swartes die Rooi Rus met 'n bottel in die gesig. 'n Oorlog bars los soos die jongmanne op die tierende skare losbrand en die skuldige wat die bottel gegooi het lyk soos 'n

sifdraad na hy deur outomatiese masjiengewere

platgevee is.

Die Rooi Rus het sy regteroog

in die aanval verloor maar daaroor het die liberale pers nie 'n woord gerep nie. Later in die jaar word hy na Hillbrow verplaas as distrikskommandant. Weer sit hy in 'n "warm" stoel want die Johannesburgse voorstad met sy kosmopolitiese bevolking is die mees digbevolkte in die wêreld. Hier is hy weereens vir menige van sy kollegas 'n voorbeeld. Op 'n Oujaarsaand toe meeste met partytjies doenig is, is hy saam met sy manne in Hillbrow om die veiligheid van die inwoners en motoriste te bewerkstellig. Presies om middernag roep hy hulle almal op die polisieradio en wens hulle 'n geseënde en voorspoedige Nuwejaar toe! Vanaf Hillbrow word hy Streekinspekteur van Polisie aan die Witwatersrand met die rang van brigadier. Die Rooi Rus tree in 1983 af op 55 omdat hy weet hy nooit 'n generaal sal word weens

daardie veelbesproke

"skop" wat hy op die destydse staatspresident se sitvlak geland het. Vir sy vyande was hy 'n gedugte teenstander, van sy kollegas was afgunstig oor sy vermoë om met sy "seuns" en mense te werk. Vir sy ondergeskiktes was sy lewe die ideaal wat hulle wou nastreef. Vir sy vriende en gesin was hy 'n man uit een stuk, 'n man met 'n hart van goud. Vir sy vrou het hy gereeld 'n bos vars blomme vir

haar sitkamer gekoop en as hy nie self kon gaan nie het hy iemand gestuur om dit te doen. Brig Theuns Swanepoel, beter bekend as die Rooi Rus by vriend en vyand is een van die kleurvolste polisiemanne in die geskiedenis van die gewese Suid-Afrikaanse Polisie. Brig Swanepoel wat op 7 Julie oorlede is was 71 jaar oud. 'n Vader van twee dogters en vele seuns soos hy die jong polisiemanne genoem het. So het hy dit ook weer gedoen die Vrydag, 'n paar dae voor sy dood op 7 Julie. Die Rooi Rus was in hart en siel 'n stoere Afrikaner -- al het die KP hom gekaap om in Westdene vir hulle 'n setel te beveg teen Pik Botha weet ek hy was 'n ondersteuner van die Herstigte Nasionale Party. Hy het afgetree op 'n plaas by Roodeplaatdam waar hy gewoon en bietjie geboer het tot drie jaar gelede waarna hy weens sy siektetoestand in 'n aftree-oord wes van Johannesburg gaan woon het. Brig Swanepoel sal onthou word as 'n baanbreker op vele gebiede in die SA Polisie. Hy sal ook onthou word vir die voorbeeld wat hy gestel het om hart en siel te werk in wat jy glo. Met sy gesin of buitestanders het hy nooit sy werk bespreek nie en so het hy hulle baie spanning en bekommernis gespaar. Soos van sy eertydse ondergeskiktes met sy dood opgemerk het: "Daar was net een Theuns Swanepoel, net een Rooi Rus, sy kaliber van offisier is dun gesaai en ons glo nie daar is meer sulkes in die mag nie." Nou na sy dood het 'n kennisgewing dat hy gedagvaar gaan word om voor die Waarheids en Versoeningskommissie te verskyn by sy tuisadres aangekom. “Geskryf deur Cobus Engeland” (sic)

GESKIEDENIS, FEITE, FIKSIE, LEGENDES, MITES ...

HBH

Nongqai, as tydskrif is gemik op begrip van die strominge wat ons geskiedenis help vorm het, daarom plaas ons hierdie 1998artikel verbatim, nie om enige praktyke vermeld daarin of die taalgebruik te kondoneer nie (ons gaan bv. beslis nie saam met beskrywings van jeugdiges wat met masjiengewere geskiet is dat hulle soos "sifdraad" gelyk het nie). Die artikel word verbatim geplaas, slegs vir historiese akkuraatheid, sodat die leser 'n eie gevoel kan vorm van die destydse tydsgees ("mind-set") wat sekeres se optrede beheers het. Aan die anderkant is dit belangrik om kennis te neem van die politiek van die dag. Die artikel is destyds geskryf om sy kandidatuur te ondersteun. Die optredes vermeld moet ook nie gesien word as verteenwoordigend van die gehele SAP of SAP-VT se beleid oor bv. ondervraging nie - sien asb. verlede maand se Spesiale Uitgawe oor genl. Frans Steenkamp en sy daarby aangehegte rondskrywe met instruksies oor hoe ondervraging korrek gedoen moet word, as

BRIG TJ “ROOI RUS” SWANEPOEL

Dr Willem Steenkamp

illustrasie daarvan dat dit nie histories korrek is ons die hele Polisiemag oor een kam te skeer nie. Kommentaar deur HBH : Indien die bewering, dat hy die minister onder die sitvlak geskop het, juis is, kan ons opponente vra: “As hy die minister so behandel, hoe sou hy sy opponent behandel?” Aan die anderkant, gedurende 1970 tydens ’n veiligheidskursus het hy ’n staande ovasie ontvang na sy lesing. Hy is vir sy stryd teen terroriste met die gesogte SOO vereer. Ja tye verander

Beste Hennie

By nabetragting, is daar beweringe in “Die Afrikaner” se artikel wat net sodanig feitlik foutief is dat mens dit nie in ‘n publikasie soos Nongqai sonder korreksie behoort te laat verskyn nie. Die twee belangrikste insidente waarby Brig. Theuns Swanepoel betrokke was (itv publisiteit en internasionale reperkussies) was sy hantering van die 16 Junie betoging in Soweto en die Protter-insident by die Israeli konsulaat. Hiermee ‘n kort kommentaar, vir jou oorweging: Ongeag van wat sy kwaliteite as vader en empatiese leier van sy “seuns” mog gewees het, sal brig. Theuns “Rooi Rus” Swanepoel se rol in die nasionale veiligheidsgeskiedenis van Suid-Afrika altyd by uitstek tipeer word deur sy hantering van twee hoë profiel-insidente –die besetting van die Israeli konsulaat in Johannesburg op 28 April 1975 en die 16 Junie 1976 betoging deur skoolkinders in Soweto. Veral Soweto het blywende reperkussies gelaat, wat die latere verloop van ons geskiedenis ingrypend beïnvloed het. Die konsulaat-insident (wat feitelik foutief in die aangehaalde artikel uitgebeeld word) is tiperend van ‘n bepaalde “kragdadige” benadering tot die oplossing van probleme, wat ook in die hantering van die aanvanklike jeug-protes in Soweto duidelik uitgekom het. Die aangehaalde artikel uit “Die Afrikaner” tipeer die insident by die konsulaat in Johannesburg feitelik verkeerd. Wat gebeur het is dat een van die konsulaat se eie veiligheidspersoneel, die geestelik-versteurde 24-jarige David Protter, die konsulaat

beset en van die ander personeel gyselaar geneem het. Die onvergenoegde Protter het sy baas, die hoof van veiligheid Nurit Raviv Dudai, doodgeskiet en om aandag op sy klagtes te vestig het hy wild en wakker begin skiet, oor sy gyselaars se koppe heen, tot die effek dat op ‘n stadium gemeen is ses Japanese terroriste het die gebou oorgeneem. Volgens die amptelike Israeli verslag het Protter egter self niemand anders in die konsulaat gewond of gedood nie. Soos die aangehaalde artikel hierbo aandui, was brig. Swanepoel se strategie om polisieskerpskutters op omliggende geboue te ontplooi. Die polisie het hulle teen-vuur o.a. op die gebou se 5e vloer gerig en volgens die “Jewish Report” se verslag oor die 40-jarige herdenkingsdiens vir die slagoffers: “The police had also placed explosives around the building and at one stage were contemplating blowing up the entire building”. Die resultaat van die hele kabaal was twee dood in die konsulaat, twee op straat, en 32 gewond. Die situasie was dus allermins “onder beheer”, en is Genl. Lang Hendrik van den Bergh as Nasionale Veiligheidsadviseur inderhaas vanaf Pretoria na die toneel gestuur, waar hy en Israeli ambassadeur Yitzhak Unna uiteindelik Protter se vreedsame oorgawe kon onderhandel, 17 uur na die drama begin het. Om hierdie insident met eer op Brig. Swanepoel se kerfstok te wil byvoeg, is ongelukkig net nie waar nie. Veel eerder is dit bewys van hoe “kragdadigheid” ‘n reeds plofbare situasie laat uitrafel het, totdat meer beredeneerde bevel oorgeneem het. Daar is al genoeg geskryf oor die Soweto-opstand se aanvang, om nie nou te veel verder daaroor te wil derms uitryg nie. Net soos brig. Swanepoel die nasionale veiligheidsbelang onomkeerbaar geskaad het met die gebruik van skerp ammunisie teen kinders, het die nasionale veiligheidstelsel ook vir hom as bevelvoerder in die steek gelaat – eerstens deurdat daar nie werkende traangas in Soweto ter hand was vir gebruik in die onlusbeheer nie, en tweedens omdat daar nie tydig na almal in bevelsposisies wat kon saak maak, instruksies uitgegaan het oor wat om in daardie bepaalde tydsgewrig te wagte te wees nie. Kommunikasie was gewis ‘n swakheid binne die intelligensie-stelsel, met slegs maar rapportering na bo, na die kabinet. Die oorhoofse nasionale veiligheidskonteks van die moment was dat eerste minister Vorster in daardie dae op die punt gestaan het om na Duitsland te vertrek vir uiters belangrike samesprekings met die VSA se dr. Henry Kissinger en die Duitse kanselier. Die doel was om adv. Vorster se détente-inisiatief te probeer aan die gang hou na die vorige jaar se propagandaneerlaag in Angola met die faal van Operasie Savannah (die militêre inval daar deur die SA Weermag). Met die voordeel van terug-sig, is dit nou duidelik dat bevelvoerders soos Swanepoel gewaarsku moes gewees het dat die vyand sou probeer om hierdie krities-belangrike samesprekings te verongeluk, deur provokasies te loods wat vir propaganda-doeleindes in die media uitgebuit kon word. Almal moes op die hoede geplaas gewees het om sulke provokasies nie te laat slaag nie, deur met die grootste omsigtigheid op te tree. Kennelik is brig. Swanepoel nie so voorgelig nie en het die provokasie totaal geslaag toe daar met skerp ammunisie op die kinders geskiet is en dramatiese foto’s van ‘n sterwende Hector Peterson die wêreld ingestuur kon word.

Bo: Konst. C.A. Maree (links) en sers. T.J. Swanepoel, albei van Radiohoofkwartier, Johannesburg, word weens hul knap optrede in die jongste Afdelingsorder vermeld.

Kommentaar deur HBH

‘n Straat-polisieman moet “tough” wees veral op die Witwatersrand. Brig. Swanepoel was een van die pioniers tov grensoorlogvoering en buitelandse koverte aksie. Hy was op 26 Augustus 1966 by die slag van Ongulambashe betrokke Dit is juis en korrek dat hy ‘n “eenmanoorlog” op die grens gevoer het. Dit het tot sy verplasing na Radiobeheer gelei, juis omdat hy genl. Dillon (SAP Oprukeenheid) en sy manne op die grens totaal omseil en “alles” self gedoen het. Die generaal was kwaad omdat hulle (SAP Uniform) op die grens omseil was. Brig. Swanepoel het nie sy inligting met genl. Dillon gedeel nie. Die dokumente is in die argief beskikbaar. Miskien moet die artikel as ‘n propaganda artikel vir die HNP beskou word, hy was ‘n kandidaat.

As ek aan my Pa dink, is daar een groot waarheid wat hy baie graag met my gedeel het: “Die son gaan weer skyn more”. Pa was ‘n baie positiewe mens, Die glas was altyd halfvol en nie halfleeg nie. Sy werk het ons dikwels laat rondtrek, soms net ‘n jaar of twee op ‘n nuwe plek. Dit was nie maklik, veral vir my Ma nie. As ek terugkyk dink ek die ondervinding om elke keer nuwe maats te maak was ‘n lewensles. Pa het saans as hy tuis was die skottelgoed gewas na aandete en ons moes afdroog en wegpak. Dan het hy gehoor hoe ons dag verloop het. Sondae het hy vir ons kerrie en rys gekook en graag lang ente in die Magaliesberg gaan stap. Op sulke stappe het hy met enigeen wat hy raakgeloop het ‘n geselsie aangeknoop. Ek was baie min bewus van my Pa se werk toe ek klein was, net geweet hy was ‘n polisieman en baie dikwels nie tuis nie. In my tienerjare, het ek en hy baie gesels oor die politiek, en hy was baie bewus van my afkeer in die apartheidsisteem. Juis daarom het ons baie min oor sy werk gesels, want ek het dit liefs vermy. Hy het my egter

ondersteun toe ek bv. nie op hoërskool in Pretoria my skool se petisie wou teken ter ondersteuning van die polisieoptrede teen betogende studente nie.

Ek dink in sy hart was hy ‘n speurder, en die jare in die Veiligheidspolisie was nie sy gunsteling tyd nie. Ek onthou vandag nog hoe hy en ek gesels het oor kommunisme. Daardie jare was dit soos ‘n vloekwoord, en die regering het alles wat sleg is daaraan toegeskryf. My Pa het vir my al die positiewe eienskappe van ‘n kommunistiese sisteem uitgewys, en my gemotiveer om altyd my eie opinie te vorm en nie die regering propaganda sonder ondersoek te aanvaar nie. Toe ek na matriek besluit het om nie joernalistiek te studeer nie, was hy baie verlig! My Pa en ek het ‘n liefde vir letterkunde gedeel. Hy was veral lief vir Shakespeare en kon lang stukke aanhaal uit bv. Hamlet. Hy het die hofverslag van die destydse Breyten Breytenbach verhoor vir my huistoe gebring om te lees. Ek het geweet dat hy baie simpatiek gestaan het, maar oor sy werk het hy baie min met ons gepraat. Hy wou nie dat ek ‘n afskrif maak nie en ek wens nou nog dat ek dit kon gedoen het. Ingrid Jonker was nog een van sy gunsteling digters, haar Rook en Oker bundel het hy as verjaarsdag geskenk vir my gegee. Alan Paton was ook ‘n gunsteling skrywer, en hy was baie lief vir sy hartroerende verhale wat in

Bo: Minister Louis le Grange, destyds minister van polisie (1979-1982) en minister van wet en orde (1982-1986), gee die Suid-Afrikaanse Polisie Ster vir Uitmuntende Diens (SOE, Latyns: Stella Officii Egregii) aan luit.-genl. CF Zietsman tydens ‘n medalje en voorstellingsparade by die Suid-Afrikaanse Polisiekollege. Datum onbekend maar sou tussen 19791986 gewees het. Die dekorasie in 1986 afgestaan.

Natal afgespeel het. Sy kleinkinders was vir hom baie na aan die hart, en ons was bevoorreg om toe my vier klein was naby aan hulle te gewoon het. Pa het op Bethal op ‘n plaas groot geword, die jongste van tien kinders en dit was baie koud daar. Hulle moes kaalvoet stap na ‘n plaasskool . Hy het elke winter in Pretoria vir my kinders ‘n kombers gaan koop by Pep Stores. Sy herinneringe aan die koue het hom altyd bygebly. Dikwels het hy kom aanklop by ons net om te kyk hoe slaap die babas! My seuns en dogter het baie mooi herinneringe van visvangekskursies saam met Oupa en Ouma. Hulle moes altyd daar gaan oorslaap die aand van tevore. Daar is dan ‘n krismisbed gemaak en hulle moes douvoordag opstaan vir die uitstappie. Vandag nog het hulle die viskaste wat Oupa vir hulle gekoop het. Ons het in 2002 Amerika toe verhuis. Alhoewel dit vir almal van ons baie swaar was om te groet, het my Pa ons in alles ondersteun. Die laaste dag toe ons moes lughawe toe en alles opgepak was, het hy en Ma aangestap gekom met sy kenmerkende kortbroek, tekkies en gholfhemp met ‘n bottel whisky en mooi glase. Sy woorde was: “Rene’tjie, ons moet julle darem ‘n goeie sendoff gee “. Sy kuiers hier by ons in Alabama was baie kosbaar vir die hele gesin. Die laaste keer toe ek by Pa gekuier het voor sy dood, het hy tydens groet tyd my styf vasgedruk. Sy woorde was: “Ek weet nie of jy weer moet kom kuier nie, want die groet is elke keer vir my moeiliker”.

GENERAL Zietsman has a reputation for being ‘‘fierce’’. He also has a wealth of stories to recount of his early days in the Force. He started his career as a young policeman in Durban, during the fighting between the Blacks and the Indians. The Blacks went on the rampage through the Indian trading area and burnt and looted all the shops. In one incident they had attacked the shop of an Indian and stolen his safe. The Police apprehended the looters a few hundred metres down the road. Just then, another Indian came driving along and told the owner of the shop that he would take the safe and guard it, as he lived far from the Black township. Off he drove with the safe, and took the contents! He was later convicted and sentenced. At that time, the Navy was still based in Durban and was called upon to help quell the riots, which rose to an ugly peak one Friday night when enraged Blacks rushed through the Indian quarter of Durban and Cato Manor and burnt and looted houses. In the clean-up operations that followed, with the assistance of three Dakota-loads of extra policemen, 184 bodies were recovered. The mortuary could only take ten bodies. Eventually, after the room next to the mortuary was full, the bodies were laid outside for identification and autopsy. Then the overworked undertakers had to get the bodies removed as speedily as possible. In those days, the Police in Durban had no radio cars and so six were despatched from Johannesburg, one of which served as a base station. Once the worst of the rampage was over, investigation began and went on for five months, starting every morning at three. People got up early to go to work, and the Police had to search from house to house for stolen property. In the end the stolen property was placed in the street for identification purposes. During the riots Blacks could be seen carrying off beds on their heads from shops they had set alight, or sacks of meal; anything, in fact, which was not nailed down! In 1946, there was the passive resistance movement. This was caused by the Government passing what was known as the Pegging Act, which restricted Indians from buying land in what was predominantly White areas. The Indians decided to stage a sit-in.

there was a triangle of open ground, in a mainly White area. The Indians chose this for their demonstration. Reinforcements came from Johannesburg to join the locals, squatting there in their hundreds in defiance of the law. This went on for some time until the Whites decided to attack them. The Police, working twelve hours a day, seven days a week, now had to form a cordon to protect the squatters congregating at night. This went on for months until eventually it became only a token protest with the Indians informing the station of what they were doing and handing in their names and details for the records. Then a policeman would go to the site during the evening and let them know they were to be charged for breaking the law. It all happened very peacefully. A potato boycott was staged in the mid-SOs, instigated by a preacher back in 1946. He made allegations about farmers murdering labourers and burying them in the potato fields. ‘“If you eat potatoes, you are eating something grown from your kin’’, he said. This situation was discussed by the United Nations and the African National Council movement officially banned the eating of potatoes. For months their members destroyed every potato to be found in Durban. The African National Congress used to hold meetings during

holiday periods, and these were attended by members of the Security Branch. The General and other members of the Branch, including Black policemen, once went to a meeting held in December. The ANC members continuously harassed the Police, flashing cameras in their faces, sitting on the men’s laps and pushing them about. Eventually the Police sat down in ANC delegates’ seats. When the meeting convened, one of the ANC members asked the late Albert Luthuli if it was in order for the Security Branch to attend the meeting and, if so, should they be allowed to occupy seats reserved for ANC delegates?

Mr Luthuli, who personally knew the General very well, replied: ‘‘We are in a fortunate position in Durban in that we don’t know who are Congress members and who are Security Branch members. If there happen to be Security Branch members in those seats, they are welcome to keep them.”’ The Police had no further problems. General Zietsman is a rigid disciplinarian, which has earned him his reputation, but he demands high standards from himself and expects it from others. The General has devoted his life to fighting crime. He has served in various sections of the Force including Security and now is head of C.I.D. His years of experience and dedication are a source of inspiration to all who have served under him.

HBH

In ons geskiedenis is dit ook belangrik om ‘n kykie agter die skerms te kry—ons lees in die uitgawe van brig Swanepoel, ons lees oor hoe ‘n mens genl CF Zietsman was. Nongqai is gelukkig om ook van ‘n klein dogter van genl “Lang-Hendrik” van den Bergh te hoor. Sy vertel ons ook van Oupa die mens. Dit is so belangrik dat ons die volle mens leer ken. Ons plaas haar vertellings in twee briewe—ons weerhou haar van en waar sy woon. Ons moet egter nooi die konteks verloor nie—ons was in ‘n werklike stryd gewikkel

MY OUPA GENL “LANG-HENDRIK” VAN DEN BERGH

Sonika

Geagte Meneer Heymans Ek skryf mbt die artikel oor generaal Hendrik van den Bergh in NONGQAI. Ek sou graag wou weet waar u die inligting vandaan gekry het, net vir interessantheidsonthalwe. My naam is Sonika (familienaam weerhou), dogter van generaal van den Bergh se oudste, oorlewende dogter. Daar is een fout in die artikel waarvan ek weet, waarop ek u wil attent maak en dit is die ouderdom waarop my Oupa uit die skool is. Hy het die skool verlaat in Standard 6, nie 9 nie. My oupa was 'n briljante man, 'n wonderlike en liefdevolle Oupa wie se kleinkinders sy wêreld was. Hy het deur baie hartseer gegaan in sy lewe, maar hy het ook 'n lewe gelei waarvan ek glad nie geweet het nie, en eers bewus geword het van in my 40er jare. Die man, "the most feared man in South Africa", was nie dieselfde man wat vir ons ure lank 'Black Beauty' gelees het, terwyl ons om sy voete geklou het soos vlieë op 'n Wilson toffie nie. Elke mens het twee kante.... Groete uit die verte

Sonika Geagte Meneer Heymans Ek sal beslis foto’s soek van Oupa. Ek het met Oupa se naamgenoot gepraat kort na ek die artikel gelees het en gevra waar hy dit gekry het, want hy het dit vir my aangestuur. Toe laat hy vir my weet dat hy deel gehad het in die skryf/ inligting vergader, en hoe 'n gesukkel dit was om bloed uit die familie klip te tap! Ek vra om verskoning vir my spelling en taalfoute. Ek was net 3 jaar in 'n Afrikaanse skool, op laerskool, en probeer klou aan my taal, maar kry min geleenthede om Afrikaans te praat, nie eers gepraat van skryf nie. Ek is baie self bewus en onseker, veral as Gmail alles ROOI maak!!

Ek dink nie ek sal ooit weet of iets 'n V of 'n F moet wees nie! Ek woon in die VSA, nou al vir die afgelope 21 jaar. Spyt kom altyd te laat. Ek weet in sommiges se oë is ek bevoorreg, maar ek voel ek moes nooit die land verlaat het nie. Jou Vaderland bly jou Vaderland. Ek dwaal maar die afgelope 21 jaar hier tussen die Yanks soos 'n Boer tussen die Rooi nekke! Ek onthou nog my Oupa se lag, sy reuk, sy manewales! Hy het ons as kleintjies sooo beïndruk as hy sy valstande uitgehaal het!! Wat weet ons nou van valstande? Ons het net gedink Oupa kan sy tande uithaal! Dis beter as enige trick!! En, die beste van als is, hy het dit op aanvraag gedoen. Toe ons op die plaas gewoon het en plaasskooltjie toe gegaan het (laerskool Witpoort) het Oupa my, my sussie en my twee nefies by die busstop kom haal met sy groot groen John Deer trekker! Dit was die bederf van die jaar. Soos apies het ons vasgeklou op die klip pad met klippe so groot soos Vollas, deur die slote so diep soos jou bad. Dit was 'n wille rit! Ek het baie spesiaal gevoel toe Oupa vir my geleer het om sy spesiale "Tier Melk" te maak. Dit was sy drankie van keuse wat bestaan het uit Johnny Walker whiskey en vars koei melk van een van sy Fries Koeie. Dit was asof ons 'n geheime 'pact' gehad het, ek en hy....maar dalk, vir al wat ek weet het hy vir almal geleer hoe om Tier Melk te maak net sodat hy nooit weet self hoef op te staan van sy bruin leerstoel na 'n harde, stowwerige dag se werk nie! Vra vir enige van sy 13 klein kinders...en almal sal vir jou kan se, seker een van Lang Hendrik se grootste gawes was sy dat hy en die koffieketel 'n siel gedeel het. As jy daai koffieketel aansit

en die koppies so reg sit daar stap Oupa by die kombuis deur in! ELKE. LIEWE. KEER! Sy koffie swart met 'n sacharien pilletjie en Frisco koffie poeier wat alles so skuim as jy die kookwater ingooi. Dan gooi Oupa dit eers in sy piering en drink dit dan so. Hy het ons almal gespeen op swart Frisco koffie wat hy met 'n teelepel vir ons voer. Snaaks genoeg het hy my op die ouderdom van sewe ook geleer om koffie te maak! In daai selfde bruin leerstoel waarin Oupa met sy stowwerige werksklere sy Tier Melk en koffie gedrink het deur die jare het hy sy oë vir die laaste keer toe gemaak. Sy hart was gebroke sonder Ouma Kotie en al was daar nog 10 jaar in hom wou hy eenvoudig nie sonder sy skat voortgaan nie. Daar is so baie stories en herinnering wat hom 'n wonderlike mens maak, en nie een daarvan het met politiek te doen nie. Dis jammer dat mens jou sukses as mens meet volgens die maatstaf van ander. Haai, nou raak ek meegevoer. Laat ek gaan soek vir foto’s. Ek gee solank my gunsteling. Ek is die kleintjie agter Oupa se rug. Dit is in Port Edward geneem by die polisie vakansie oord op die strand.

Die ander een is die Van den Bergh-gesin in die 50-er jare, my ma, die oudste dogter van my ouma is tweede van links en Hendrik se pa Johannes Hendrik sit heel regs. Ons het iewers pragtige wit en swart foto’s van my oupa waar hy op die plaas werk. Ek sal bietjie soek. Dankie vir die gesels en die luister na my kuiertjie in die verlede!

Groete,

Sonika

SAP PORT NOLLOTH

Kol Louis Langenhoven

Facebook: Richard van Wyk

Robert Suberg known to Lambert Road to the This collision was attended by the South African Police. One a Sergeant the other probably a Constable. In those days South African Police attended Collisions or Accidents involving Black Community. Looks like a Police vehicle with a Blue Bar Light with “Police – Polisie” written on parked vehicle behind the Green Car. (Photo via Richard van Wyk) Vehicles. If you look carefully the Hennie Heymans Sergeant has his Pocket book out in his hand to take down the collision. The Police Area was Stamford Hill Police Station, also We attended to 1000’s of accidents in Durban. We compiled a SAP 352 (S68E or S68A). Initially we had to attend to each accident and draw a plan and do a key to the plan. If there were injuries or a crime committed e.g. reckless driving or ‘driving under influence’ we had to open a docket, in those days a RCI. Most difficult thing was to attend to an accident was with your cap on!

Bo links: Konst. Jan Jordaan tans woonagtig in Ierland. Hy was ’n lewendige mannetjie—ons was saam op skool. Een aand besoek ek die stasie toe is hy op ‘n toetsvlug na Jan Smutslughawe en terug, genooi.

Dit bewys maar net “die SAP was orals”. Regs bo: HBH as Stasiebevelvoerder Regs: Sers Nkosi. Ek het geen ander foto’s van die staf nie.

Photo: Joseph A Carr

In 1968 Foxtrot Company with the strength of a Battalion men assembled at the Police College for training. The SAP instructors formed part of the training course. The CO was Major Karools Mouton from East London. He was an amateur boxer in his younger years. He was fit at the age of 42 years and during an excise run to the Voortrekker Monument he would lead the Battalion. The 1968 Foxtrot Company was the last police unit that received training from the South African Defense force. The instructors were Captain Visser (Parabat) and Lieutenant Geldenhuys (SAI). We departed from Waterkloof Airforce base in a Boeing passenger plane and landed at Vic Falls airport. We were each issued with a red and black clay dog tag. At a later stage this was replaced with a metal dog tag. As a section sergeant aged 22years I made it my responsibility to see that the men in our section went home a live to their mothers. In 1968 Section Sergeants were issued with a 9mm submachine gun. The section had two excellent constables who I appointed as permanent scouts in the section. Constable Víctor from Vereeniging was a snake catcher and Constable Roux from Namaqualand who grew up on a farm

in Namibia and spoke the Bushman language. I was 14-years old when I started shooting with a Sten gun during a police target practice. In our first week on patrol above the Vic Falls I instructed the section to spread out with less taking and repeated the instruction the second time. As the reaction was slow, I fired a burst of three rounds into the ground close to the patrolling section. It was the first and last lesson I taught the section that we were not on a picnic. If an AK47 had been fired they would have been dead. During the week W/O Oosthuizen interviewed me in respect of the shooting incident. I explained the reason to him. He remarked “Sergeant, you did the right thing”. On my arrival at the Vic Falls bridge for the first time to do guard duty I greeted a Rhodesian Railways police constable who was doing Bible study. His first words left an indelible mark on my life when he said, “What is your religion?” It was a wonderful sight during a full moon to see rainbow at night in the water spray of the Victoria Water Falls. About 03:00 in the morning the water spray from the Vic Falls condensed to form a cloud and afterwards a heavy down pour of rain occurred. To shower we went to the local Vic falls camp site. We used to jog down to the Vic Falls Hotel for a swim. One afternoon I saw a group of colleagues who had gathered around a person wearing a light blue safari suit and white shoes. They were taking about rugby and the person turned out to be Jan Pickard from WP who bought beer for everyone. One outstanding event was a night off to attend a Des & Dawn Lindberg music concert. It was held in a sports club. During interval there was a small distraction to see young females with short mini dresses sitting on bar stools. One morning me and my driver went on a short patrol on a gravel road in the direction of Pandamatenga. The Land Rover in which we were riding had no doors. We saw a pack of Wild African dogs and reduced speed. The pack of Wild African dogs started to run alongside the vehicle. I half hung out the doorless Land Rover and had a grandstand view of experiencing the pack of dogs in motion. From all the animals I became an admirer of the Wild African dog. Our patrol and guard duties were assigned to a combined 2 sections with 2 section sergeants with 7 constables in each section.

Sgt Fivaz (Durban) and his section were one night at OP19 at the Zambezi river

when a herd of elephants encircled the section. For safety they scrambled to climb various trees in the dark. At sunrise they established that some section members had only climbed a height of 6ft off the ground. They then hammered tent pegs into the various tree trunks for safety.

Dennis Delport Sgt 44786E

Comment by HBH

Sgt Fivaz is identical to Andre Fivaz, brother of Gen JG Fivaz, in our young days he was stationed at Pinetown (No 76 District, Durban West).