TALKING TO THE DEAD 2

The name Greefswald meant nothing in April 1971. It appears to mean nothing now. But from December 1971 until the last of the survivors disappeared into the void, that is, until they grew old enough or mad enough not to care anymore, it struck fear into the heart of every conscript in the SADF, roofs and oumanne alike.

It's probably only four or five hundred kilometres from Middelburg to Greefswald. In the Bedford it felt like four thousand. I can't remember when we left 4SAI, the infantry base. I know we got to Alldays at dusk because we stopped to fill up with petrol. The first lieutenant and the two-stripe corporal let us get out to stretch our legs. The was no toilet at the Mobil garage so we went into the veld. If we had known where we were going we wouldn't have come back. But I think we were all happy to be leaving 4SAI.

It was dark when we got to Greefswald. A bare bulb shone in the small duty box at the gate. A sergeant emerged and spoke in Afrikaans to the corporal. There was a sudden shout followed by much laughter. We stuck our heads under the canvas to see what was going on. The sergeant was holding something. He walked around to the back of the Bedford. It was a dead lynx, still warm and bloody. Some of us screamed and some of us laughed.

"Welkom in Greefswald," he said.