40 — Unstable and Unreliable (Salisbury: May 1977)

I was troubled.  It was time to assess.  There was no question that I had been royally screwed up as a hippie/student in Madison.  The hallucinogenic drugs that I had taken in the late 60s in an attempt to discover the purpose of life made things worse.  [See “4-Who Is Timothy Leary”,“5-Seven Days in May – Part I” and “6-Part II – Jewish LSD Freak”.]

Yet, my “born-again” experience had given me a fresh start in life and Col Thieme’s teaching had put my life back into order.  I was grateful to Thieme and his extensive teaching ministry.  It was as if he brought me up from childhood again, reeducating me in the essential elements of living a responsible and meaningful life. 

His teaching was peppered with history both ancient and modern.  It reawakened my interest in history and I began to read voraciously, starting with ancient centers of civilization such as Egypt, Mesopotamia, the Indus Valley and China.  I followed history from these recorded beginnings through the European world hegemony, the settling of the New World, the American War Between the States (as our Civil War is called in the South), through the World and Cold wars.

I had also deeply imbibed in his “systematic” theology which had its foundation in the scholarship of the Plymouth Brethren, the Scofield Bible, and Dallas Theological Seminary.  The Colonel’s unique contribution was to overlay a broad understanding of history with a system of theology that “made sense” of human history—past, present and future.

Placing myself squarely in the center of his teaching, I made it a habit to live out bible doctrine.  If this is truth—it should work applied to daily life.  So far, I believed that I had been successful in living out bible doctrine on a daily basis.

But now, I was having some doubts about Thieme’s theological/historical interpretation with regard to Rhodesia.  The Rhodesian government was not doggedly resisting world pressure to move toward majority rule.  My discussions with Kinny and Dave Phelps had revealed that Smith’s Rhodesian Front government was actively involved in discussions with the British and even Mugabe and Nkomo, the two primary terrorist leaders.  Kinny’s brother, who was in the minority conservative opposition, the Rhodesian Action Party (RAP), was totally opposed to Smith’s willingness to compromise. 

I had begun to see how difficult it was for Africans to bridge the gap from rural subsistence farming to become commercial farmers.  Blacks could own small shops, but only in the African townships.  Blacks could work in at menial, but there was no way for them to move into more meaningful positions held by whites.  Even the Rhodesian African Rifles had only just recently commissioned their first black officers.  However, this all black unit was still mostly led by white officers.

And then there was the whole issue of social interaction.  Abe and I couldn’t eat together.  Sure, white farmers would often work side by side with their African laborers, but the white man returned to his comfortable farmhouse while the blacks lived in huts on the white man’s property.

Even the food and drink was segregated.  White Rhodesians ate a healthy diet of beef, chicken, lamb, vegetables and fruit.  Black Rhodesians ate a fatty cut of “ration meat” and whatever else they could grow or scrounge for themselves.  Whites drank bottled beer—my favorite was “Castle” while others preferred “Lion.”  Africans were only allowed to drink in special beer halls.  They drank a stinky beer byproduct in plastic buckets.  Some of this was cultural.  Much was a matter of economic favoritism.

I wrote some letters to Col Thieme advising him of what I was seeing, believing he would appreciate the first hand reporting.  I didn’t air these concerns in my “public” letters which were published in the Berachah Church weekly bulletin.  Apparently, the Colonel and his close circle of friends were not happy about my reporting.  It seems that they didn’t want to hear anything that did not fit with the Colonel’s teaching.

This came to light as a couple of Thieme followers showed up on our doorstep.  One was a 19 year old from Houston named Matt.  His father was a regular attendee at Berachah, though we had never met.  His son had only limited exposure to Thieme’s teaching, but was looking for adventure, having recently graduated from high school.  Matt’s father paid his way to Rhodesia to join the Army.  Matt was a nice kid, but completely ignorant of the historical and political issues facing the Rhodesians.  He was just there for the wild ride.

“Kalanyoni” - Our new home on the Bulawayo road

Left to right:  American who was a manager at The Watergate, Matt from Houston, Jeff, Pegi kneeling with Rebel

[Matt finished his training with RLI, but after his first trip to the bush, he “took the gap” (deserted).  He called me just before he left for the airport.  I jumped on my camo-painted motorcycle and raced out to the airport to try to talk him out of leaving.  By the time I arrived, he was getting ready to board.  In uniform and with my Uzi over my shoulder, I was allowed into the departure lounge only to discover that the plane had just closed its doors for takeoff.  It was too late to stop him.  Some years later, I heard that Matt had gone off to Central America with Dirk from Belgium who had been in my training company.  They were looking for mercenary work.]

The other Thiemite who showed up was a “taper” from Perth, Australia.  He was visiting as a tourist and spent a couple of months in Rhodesia, making our home his base of operations.  He told us that Col Thieme’s executive secretary, Katie Tapping, had given him our address with the admonition that we were “unstable and unreliable.” 

Pegi and I were shocked at this revelation.  How could we be considered unstable and unreliable?  Katie’s explanation to our Australian friend was that we had begun to have the “wrong political opinions.”  Apparently, only the Colonel was allowed to interpret current history!  And, his interpretations from the distance of Houston were more reliable than our view from Africa!?!

I think this was intended to get us to toe the line with regard to our opinions, but it had the opposite effect.  This caused us to seriously doubt the Colonel’s perspective for the first time.  That led to us beginning to doubt his whole system.  Now, we didn’t just rip all of his teaching apart immediately.  That would take a few more years, but it was a turning point for us.

We were no longer Thieme devotees.  Now, he was just an important teacher in our lives.  We found ourselves beginning to reexamine everything, beginning with the whole idea of a military career as a Christian.  And maybe this was all to show me that I actually belonged in the ministry?

Next:  41 — Hugged Instead of Slapped (Salisbury:  July 1977)

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38 — Pistol-Packin’ Chaplain (Salisbury: March 1977)

One of the problems with having free reign over my chaplain’s duties was that I was new to everything:  the country, the Army, the ministry, the chaplaincy—I had no practical ideas about what I could or should do.  The Chaplain General, LtCol Norman Wood, was rarely in his office.  He and the other chaplain officers, were constantly on the go. 

The only person who seemed to take an interest in my development was another chaplain-sergeant who would occasionally stop by the office during one of his call-ups. Stan Hannan, (now a Baptist pastor in Florida), took on the difficult task of my chaplaincy education and development.  

As assistant chaplains with only the rank of sergeant, we were rarely called upon for the serious casualty notifications.  That was the sad duty of the officers who were ordained and, in theory, prepared for counseling in time of tragedy.  As assistant chaplains, we delivered the casualty notifications of illnesses and minor injuries that were unlikely to be life threatening.

Before venturing out on my own, I accompanied Stan for a casualty notification.  I remember riding out to the Hatfield suburb of Salisbury and standing at Stan’s side as he knocked on the door at the home of a soldier who had come down with some sort of food poisoning.  We knew that we were not bringing tragic news, but when the soldier’s wife saw us at the door with our purple and black “stable belts” (4-inch wide colored belts that signified different units), the blood drained from her terrified face.  We quickly assured her that her reservist husband’s condition was not life threatening, but it took a cup of tea and a 30-minute conversation to help her regain her equilibrium.

As we drove back to our office, Stan told me of how he had accompanied Col Wood for a casualty notification.  The woman had the front gate to her home locked and when she saw the purple and black belts on Col Wood and Stan, she passed out.  They could not reach her because of the locked gate.  The moral of the story:  You never know what to expect when you show up at someone’s door as a chaplain.

One thing that I was encouraged to do was to make hospital visits.  I made a few of these visits, but I was very timid about this.  I don’t know if I was intimidated by the protocol of the hospital itself, not knowing what to say to these wounded soldiers, or my own feeling of failure for not having completed my training and serving in combat.  I suspect it was the latter that held me back, but I rarely found time to visit.  To this day, I feel shame and regret about that one simple thing that I could of and did not do often enough.

Strangely, I didn’t mind the casualty notifications.  Maybe it was because I could masquerade as a “real” soldier when visiting family, but knew that my disguise would not work with wounded soldiers.

I covered up my own weakness and failure to push through the pain of my ankle injury by affecting a tough persona.  I talked the talk of soldiers, something I had picked up at Berachah Church, cursing so freely that Col Wood had to ask me to tone it down! 

Jeff, I know that in America you have some cigar-smoking, gruff-talking Christians.  But, the other chaplains here are not accustomed to that type of behavior.  If you could watch the language when you are in the office, that would be best.  It is alright for you to speak like that when with the RLI troopers, but tone it down here please.

I agreed to moderate my language, but there was more than language to my act!  Of course, all of the chaplains carried weapons.  This was a war that exempted no one.  I was issued a 9mm semi-auto pistol which I sometimes tucked into my stable belt as well as an “Uzi” submachine gun.  I was quite a sight on my camo-painted Army-issued Yamaha motorcycle, especially with  the Uzi strapped across my back.  I used to practice swinging my Uzi into action with one arm while controlling the clutch and throttle of my motorcycle with the other arm.  The Uzi had a really short barrel.  Good luck with hitting anything I was aiming at while riding!  My new RP corporal buddy at RLI named me “The Pistol-packin’ Chaplain.” 

    With only casualty notifications to keep me occupied during the day, I was getting bored.  I couldn’t just sit around the office all day reading my Bible or getting in theological debates with the other chaplain assistants doing their national service.  So, I began to reach out to those I had met who seemed to show an interest in bible doctrine.

I am not sure how we first contacted Dave and Kinny Phelps, but they had discovered Thieme’s books and tapes. They invited Pegi and me to their home for dinners and teas where we would talk about bible doctrine and Rhodesian politics. 

Kinny’s brother was a Member of Parliament (MP) and a founding member of the Rhodesian Action Party (RAP).  RAP positioned itself as the opposition to Prime Minister Ian Smith’s Rhodesian Front.  However, they were the conservative opposition to a conservative leader.  We quickly learned that there was no viable liberal opposition in Rhodesia.  The RAP saw Smith’s drift toward conciliation with the blacks as a departure from the standards by which he was elected and led the country to UDI (Unilateral Declaration of Independence) in 1964. 

Initially, Pegi and I found ourselves in sympathy with the more conservative stance of the RAP.  This was the first time we began to question the direction of the Smith government.  Although we were questioning his government from the “right,” questions led to more questions as we began to examine the assumptions that we had made in coming to Rhodesia in the first place.  We began to be disillusioned with the waning resolve and what we saw as compromising positions of the government and many of the Rhodesian people.

But, because questions lead to questions, this would eventually cause us to wonder about the entire Rhodesian endeavor, especially as we began to see evidence of real discrimination against the black African population.

Next:  39 — The Return of the "Wondering" Wanderer (Salisbury:  April 1977)

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