Reverse Gear and Fast!

Before I began my training as a combat driver I had a weekend leave.  Pegi picked me up at Training Troop in a car loaned to us by a friend.  As we drove home to Alexandra Park, we talked about a lot of things, including our ever worsening financial condition.  We needed our own car, but due to sanctions, new cars were out of the question and used cars were incredibly expensive.  In addition, Pegi was unable to jump back into her profession as a surgical nurse.  The medical system in Rhodesia was so different that she would be required to work as a student nurse at student pay for six months.  This was not an option for us.  The only interesting option was for her to join the Rhodesian Women’s Services (RWS), a non-rank bearing adjunct to the Army. 

After catching up on some sleep and having some time to just lounge around the house with Rebel, we made two decisions:  (1) Pegi would join RWS and start her training in about two weeks, and (2) We needed to go shopping for a car.  We ended up with a very used tan-colored Mini station wagon.  You may be familiar with the tiny Cooper Mini currently for sale in the US market.  Well, this was a stripped down version with an extended passenger cab instead of a trunk—no heat, no radio, sliding windows.  The deciding factor was that I was able to squeeze in the driver’s side and operate the clutch without hitting the brake with my large left foot!  You know that act where a bunch of circus clowns come out of a tiny car?  I was the clown!  Price:  Rh$2500 at Rh$55/mo forever!

0700 Monday morning, Pegi dropped me off at the main gate at RLI.  I presented my entry pass to the RP (Regimental Police) on duty and was directed to wait next to the office of the motor pool, just to the right of the front gate.  I waited there for about 10 minutes with a couple of other troopers waiting for entrance to the motor pool.  A soldier in civilian clothes walked up next to me and lit himself a cigarette.  He offered me one and I declined.  He took a drag on his cigarette and said:

What are you here for?

I am waiting for the sergeant to give me my assignment to start driver’s training.

He smiled, took another puff on his cigarette and screamed:

STAND AT ATTENTION WHEN YOU TALK TO ME!

It was the corporal from the back gate who had dressed me down the week before for walking instead of double-timing.  Of all the people to run into on my first day, it was this guy!

I jumped to attention while he finished telling me what a worthless piece of useless flesh I was.  He threw down his cigarette, smashed it with his shoe and ordered me to clean up the butt and dispose of it.  He spun on his heel and walked through the gate into the motor pool.

A few minutes later, I was summoned to the motor pool office and assigned to another corporal (thank goodness), who would teach me how to drive all the trucks in the RLI motor pool.  We started with a Land Rover.  They wanted to make sure that I could drive a stick shift.   We spent about a few hours driving around the suburbs of Salisbury near Cranborne Barracks.  It was quickly apparent that I could drive.  After all I was an American and had been driving since I was a teenager.   

After lunch, we changed to driving the 2.5 ton Mercedes Unimog.  This was a newer “left-hand drive” vehicle that was the main assault vehicle for the RLI.  It took a few minutes to get used to driving a left-hand drive vehicle on the left side of the road, but since we rode so high above the rest of the traffic, I readjusted quickly.  It was an open/canvas roofed, 4-wheel drive truck capable of carrying a “stick” of troopers (four men), a 50 cal machine gun or mortar.  With 12 forward gears and 5 reverse gears, this monster could roar down dirt roads at well over 100 kmh (62 mph). 

The floor boards were armored with steel and rubber mesh to protect from the blast of landmine.  Of course, if you actually hit an anti-vehicle mine in one of these things, you would be thrown from the truck.  So one of the first things I was taught to do was to stand on the breaks, slam it into all 5 gears of reverse, back up and pick up a soldier who might have fallen out of the truck in the event of a mine blast.

For several hours, we raced down rural dirt roads at 100 kmh.  With no notice, my instructor would shout, “Mine!  Reverse gear and fast!”  I would slam on the breaks and reverse as fast as I could to simulate going back to pick up a fallen soldier.  I had never had so much fun driving in my life.  As we stirred up huge clouds of dust, local Africans seemed bored by it all as they walked by the side of the road.

As we drove back into Salisbury, my instructor told me combat stories.  Apparently, he had driven this same Unimog on a recent raid into Mozambique.  I will spare you the gruesome details, but it was clear that I would get my opportunity for combat as an RLI driver.   Since it was already 0400 and it would take us 30 minutes to get back to Cranborne, he had me drive to Alex Park.  He dropped me at my house in time to save Pegi a trip in our new Mini to pick me up.

That night at dinner, we spoke excitedly about the turn of events.  Pegi would go through two weeks of RWS orientation training, including close order drill and learning to field strip and fire a 9mm pistol and an Uzi submachine gun.  She would be assigned as a clerk-typist in Army HQ just a few miles from our house.  You may remember from the “Avocado on a Hot Tin Roof” that we had heard automatic weapons fire near Alex Park.  It turns out that the HQ firing range was about a mile away from our home.

After dinner, we listened to a taped lesson from Col Thieme at Berachah.  Although, I was generally satisfied with the thought of being a combat driver, I was a long way from that exciting military career that I had envisioned for myself.  Would I just be a driver for my three year contract?  Would Pegi, with a four-year nursing degree, be only a clerk-typist?  Was this God’s plan for our lives?

There must be something more for us here.  There must be some greater spiritual purpose.  If I was not to have a career as a military officer, then the only other attractive option would be to serve in the ministry, but how could that happen in Africa?

Next:  Another Colonel in the Church.