Just another flight
At the wind blown, dusty
and cold De Brug that is full of tents
we get into lorries
and at Bloemspruit air force base
near to Bloemfontein
airborne soldiers armed and equipped
at sixteen hundred hours
get onto aircraft
and the Hercules is hardly in the air
(like it is with soldiers
most start sleeping)
as if this thirteen hundred kilometres
is just another flight
to Grootfontein air force base
and I see the sun setting
stars moving past in the sky
and the big yellow moon
while we cross the airspace
of Botswana
and the coming action
is already gnawing at me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
I saw more than a dozen of the bomb of bombs being loaded
I saw more than a dozen
of the bomb of bombs being loaded
from pallets out of a big Hercules aircraft
shining in yellow copper intensity
with the lead tips looking strangely cold
into the bomb bays
of Buccaneer bombers
at Rooikop air force base
and with other special force soldiers
was doing guard duty that night
and still wonder if the bombs were only atomic,
or were they hydrogen, maybe neutron
or a newer generation of something even worse?
While a bit of rain was drizzling down
every piece of metal gleamed
under bright lights
and in my heart
I could already feel the country’s,
the world’s death rattle
as the Third World War
was about to start
and no Sassoon, Wilfred Owen
or even Alun Lewis
could have felt like this
being caught as a citizen force soldier
at the whim of politicians
who have the power
to obliterate millions, even billions of lives
while being only mere men.
[Reference: A War Poem by Christopher van Wyk.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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During a trip to Iraq last fall, I visited our theater hospital at Balad Air Force Base and witnessed these skilled medical professionals in action and met the brave soldiers whose lives they saved.
quote by Melissa Bean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My buddies (a reply to Boris Slutsky)
All young white men at a time
was forced into the military, into war
or had to serve a three year jail term
and most of my buddies came home,
but some did not:
Parachuting into a enemy camp
there was one close friend that died,
the other three I hardly knew
and to the government it was
an incidental small thing against
seven hundred and fifty
enemy SWAPO and Cuban casualties
and on one patrol one close buddy
stepped on a landmine
were blown up and no one else was hurt,
and to the government it was
an incidental small thing against
the enemy that had lost
little lest than a full platoon.
In Angola when we met enemy armour,
turned FAPLA / Cuban divisions
under Soviet leadership into junk
I saw a Ratel armoured car
that was trapped in a landmine field
that had been shot out
with the holes
were enemy tank projectiles went in
and every one inside was burnt, incinerated
if not blown to bits, turned into ash
and it had been only one of eleven
armoured cars
and troop carriers that was lost
some of only thirty-one soldiers dead
but there was pain that flashed through me
when I saw it
and to the government it was
an incidental small thing against
four thousand seven hundred and eighty five killed
on the Cuban/FAPLAN side,94 tanks
and hundreds of enemy combat vehicles destroyed
and now no one thinks
of the sacrifice that all of these soldiers made,
of the hundreds of thousands
of returning citizen force soldiers
who were nuts, bomb happy
with post traumatic stress syndrome
or whatever you want to call it
as to the government it is
an incidental small thing,
that happened in a distant past
as if the ex-soldiers are non-existing,
even seen as apartheid criminals by some.
[References: Buddies here used as name used in the South African Defence Force for comrades. Ex-soldiers here used instead of war veterans, as in African circles the word war veterans has got a new derogatory meaning connected to it. My Comrades by Boris Slutsky.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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A War Story
There’s a story that have being told
(and I do not know if there is truth to it) ,
that after the slaughtering
of the 47th FAPLA / Cuban brigade at the intersection
of the Lomba and Cuzizi Rivers in Angola,
the mauling of several brigades on the way
to Cuito Cuanavale and the destruction
of that military airfield, the loss of many soldiers,
the destruction of nine Mig fighters
and the loss of huge amounts of Soviet equipment
Fidel Castro was very angry and in a terrible rage
brought his Cuban soldiers in Angola
up to fifty thousand, sent four hundred tanks
and his best pilots to Angola,
after the South African forces had withdrawn
which resulted in the Mig-23 attack
on the Calueque dam
in South West Africa (now Namibia) ,
where a Buffel troop carrier was lost
along with some South African soldiers.
According to the story in vengeance
a team of elite South African
Reconnaissance Commandos
was HALO dropped equipped with
the Fim-92 Stinger anti-aircraft systems
that UNITA had supplied to them,
along with some other weapons and equipment
that these special force soldiers do normally carry
to shoot down MIG-23’s
and Hind attack helicopters
that was putting UNITA under attack
and it has been told that they were dropped
near to an enemy airbase under the nose
of the large Russian aircraft that was scanning
the air for any approaching enemy activities
where they shot down
several fighter jets and attack helicopters,
but that the section-leader
left one pilot to fly off after seeing him
making a cross, begging God for mercy.
The Reconnaissance Commandos managed to withdraw,
were extracted at the allocated extraction point
without any further incident with either FAPLA
or any Cuban enemy units
but the story gets much more interesting.
It is told that while that Recce section-leader
was holidaying in the United States
he took a taxicab from the airport to his hotel,
where the driver (a former Cuban pilot) recognized him
and that he had left Cuba as a refugee.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Anecdote of a coin
I placed a coin
upon a railway track
while training at Klipdrift army camp
to go to war.
The coin was flattened
and stretched two centimetres long
and pressed upon
the image of the track.
More trains passed day and night
and the coin remained
as part of that rail.
It never would transform back
to a round and shiny thing
and have the capacity
to buy anything.
I was transformed from boy
to man and matured
before the end of spring.
I became a killing machine
and lost humanity
and learnt to stay alive
while passing through
ash holes and obstacles
with live bullets whistling past.
The battle raged in Namibia
and into Angola
where I was taken
to the gates of hell
The sentence lasted a full two years
and much longer still,
as after the initial stint
and while being a civilian
every year the call up papers
for another camp
of a month to four
kept coming in.
Flown from Waterkloof Air force base
to Youngsfield in the Cape,
transported to base,
issued and barbered and indoctrinated
and sent by rail to De Brug,
armed and motorized with armour
and send by road to Luthatla
to be trained in
and then to war
and if alive
back home again
was like a endless cycle.
How could I come back from war
and killing
and shell-shocked and a little mad
be human
and live a life again.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Above a enemy camp
A mirage fighter jet flies past
like a angel going in advance
on the crusade.
There’s an enemy camp
going up in flames
and clouds of smoke
hanging ominous
over the place
while our aeroplane
flies to the right height.
With the sun
showing its head
over the horizon,
I fall like a bat
breaking through the airspace
and right around me
the sky is full
of other bats
that decent angry on the target
with fangs exposed downwards.
[Reference: Bats here refers to “parabats” as South African airborne soldiers were known.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Half Mass
american soldiers were slaughtered
on a military base today.
by an arab american officer
who held everyone at bay.
and for these departed soldiers
all of america will pray.
but a question was put to me
and i was'nt sure just what to say.
if they are flying the american flag
at half mass for those who died today
what about the ones who've given their lives
to protect the american way?
why should we fly the flag at half mass
just for those who died at FORT HOOD.
it should be for all soldiers
and they would argue if they could.
keep our flags at half mass for all
that put their lives at stake.
there will be many more that we will honor
and their families at their wakes.
we should also put a yellow ribbon
on our red, white, and blue
until our soldiers come home
and this fighting is finally through.
poem by Louis Rams
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Mimesis: New Swabia To Area 51
ice-free area mountains lakes
over 100 German submarines
whole fleets types 21 and 23
equipped with walter snorkel
remain several weeks under water
fled with magnetic flight disks?
Haunebu I, II and III space flight
gyroscope and Vril space flight disks
disappeared starting in May 1945
realm-German Haunebu III
nineteenth test flight to 20 April 1945
to 'new swabia ' east Antarctic
Muhlig-Hoffman mountains
Base 211 Thule-Virl technology
Operation Highjump defeated
Task Force 68 1946
largest expedition mounted
ever to the Antarctic
13 ships
included 4,700 men
multiple aircraft
USS Philippine Sea
Essex-class aircraft carrier
Rear Admiral Richard E. Byrd
USS Mount Olympus (AGC-8)
Mount McKinley-class
amphibious force command ship
USS Brownson (DD-868)
USS Henderson (DD-785)
gearing-class destroyers
USS Sennet (SS-408)
Balao-class submarine
first basic under-ice
SONAR to establish
feasibility of United States
under-ice operations
conspiracy theory
conspiracy fact
New World Order
black ops
cover ups
B-2 Spirit
Stealth Bomber
reverse engineering
Strategic Defense Initiative
energy weapons
weather control
teleportation
one world government
Majestic 12
Area 51 S4
NASA time travel
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Cassinga jump
Fear and tension was written over the faces
of paratroopers next to,
in front and at the back of me
when the red light
began to flash in the Hercules
and we went to action stations
still skimming barely over the tops
of taller trees at about two hundred feet
and most of us had two weeks earlier
been home at our civilian jobs.
One paratrooper vomited
right over me in yellow stinking
half fermented food
and the retching smell
made me nauseas as well
while the aircraft pitched steeply
with its last-minute manoeuvres
coming to jumping height
of eight hundred feet.
Mushroom clouds left by exploding bombs
billowed up from Cassinga
and in trenches I saw
people shooting upwards at us
and suddenly bombers dived
through our formation.
The sticks in front of me jumped
and air rushed into my face
at the open door
while the pit of my stomach went numb
and I stepped into space
falling, falling and seeing
a rocket-propelled grenade exploding
near the aircraft above me
and it veering away.
While the opening parachute jerked me up
I heard the deep roar
of a anti-aircraft gun
shooting from below
and it was clear that we
had jumped later
than we were supposed to
or the dropping zone
was too small to take
a full stick
of thirty-two paratroopers at a time.
We were dropping about
five hundred meters farther south
than were we should have been
and a strong wind
was driving from the northeast.
We landed in wooded terrain
which made grouping very difficult
and among the trees were drawing fire
before even touching down.
Immediately after hitting the ground
I returned fire
and the enemy fire became more sporadic
and we assaulted the group of buildings
that intelligence identified as the enemy
engineer complex,
running into groups
of our own B and C companies
and for a time was shooting at each other
before realizing it was own forces.
We were just taking the engineer complex
now formed up with the other soldiers
when we came under rocket attack
from RPG-7’s
and had to kill the crew
at a enemy B-10 recoilless gun
where I threw several hand grenades
and then ammunition stores
in the building complex started exploding
but only one paratrooper was wounded
when we took up our stop-line positions
to block off the escape route
lying south from Cassinga
and the anti-tank platoon was sent away
to set up a tank ambush
on the road running from Techamutete.
By this time I had picked up an enemy
LMG and more than enough
ammunition for it
and shot from the hip
at any movement that I saw
and until then it had been
easy as pie.
Then the commander of our company
left some men at the stop-line
and about twenty of us
along with him
went to the enemy vehicle park
where we ran into a crowd of civilians
fleeing into the surrounding bushes.
I opened up with the LMG
as we launched the attack
in the direction
of the lowered anti-aircraft guns
and we entered the trenches,
finding some civilians there,
but heavy fire came directly
from behind them.
It turned into a matter of killing
or be killed and even the women
that we met were armed
and in enemy uniform
and I lobbed hand grenades
into the next leg of the trench
and kept firing from the hip
and was splattered in blood
by a woman’s body
that was blown right out of the parapet
and what was left of her
was still in green fatigues
and blown to shreds.
Then I had nausea again,
retching uncontrollably
and somehow I stared to cry
with tears running down
my cheeks,
but like a machine moved on
seeing enemy soldiers
scrambling from the trenches
to replace the ones killed
at the three lowered anti-aircraft guns
with a bravery running near
to madness.
The closed quarter struggle
were worst than fierce
and cruelly savage
and we could only clear
just one leg of the zigzagging
ditches at a time
with supporting fire helping
from the outside.
There were screaming and crying
women and children among the enemy
and we had to kill or be killed
and a chill ran through me
and the noise was just terrible
with mortar bombs exploding
at the anti-aircraft guns,
shooting from almost
any direction onto them
and bullets ripping the walls
of the trench next to me
and I almost choked in the smoke,
dust and cordite fumes enveloping me
and finally those trenches were cleared
and the anti-aircraft guns stopped firing.
[References: LMG= Light machine gun. Read my poems Cassinga and Wings of destiny, for a full account of this battle and what happened when South African paratroopers faced enemy (Cuban) armour.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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What a big joke
What a big joke
the new defence force has become,
where three thousand soldiers
strike and run riot
and it’s people
who chooses to be soldiers.
If Jan Smuts ruled
they would have been dead
as he let them
load a gun
for Jopie Fourie
and to me it’s nothing less
than revolt
for which people in the past
could pay the ultimate penalty.
I almost laughed myself apart
when medical troops
where brought to justice
for whoring
and I wondered
what was now happening
at the once great 1 Mil?
What kind of army has no discipline
and in what defence force
troops and junior officers
tell generals
how to do their thing
and the President
is challenged
to take instructions?
In my time you where bound by law
to go without any choice
to the defence force
and if you did not go there,
the military police
quickly came to fetch you
at home.
In my defence force
nonsense was taken out of you
from the start
and the authority of higher ranks was supreme
and we exercised with a pole and tyre
and received
the best training there.
.
For two years we
had to do national service
against a pauper’s pay
and it felt at a time
as if the camps
would never end.
a Soldier pointed his finger
at a lieutenant
and received thirty days
in the detention barracks
for it.
It was a defence force
that showed its fist
to Swapo, Fapla,
the Cubans and Russians
and the best soldiers
knew their duty.
Against what foe
will this new army be able to stand
if there’s no discipline
and like in a asylum people run amok
and I wonder
what omen
is hitting the new South Africa
where patriotism
lies at the backdoor
and every soldier thinks
that he’s a general
and like all things
in this once great country,
this army is more than pathetic
against what it once was.
[Reference: 1 Mil=> One milatary hospital.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Soldier (not really a poem)
the american revolution was fought witha new breed of soldier.
this country was founded on that soldier.
that soldier is the one that those on the front lines calls the coward
that soldier is the one that those on the front lines call when they need help
because these soldiers dont miss.
these soldiers are trained harder than the most elite frontline man
these soldiers are tought to kill their enemy before there enemy sees them.
these soldiers are the ghosts in the night,
these soldiers are the wind in the day
these soldiers are everywhere.
these soldiers are the bush next to u.
these soldiers are the the tree across the field.
these soldiers are the lump of snow in the flat plain.
these soldiers are snipers.
snipers are the reason we are free.
snipers stop the enemy before the enemy gets close to u,
poem by Joshua Decker
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One Hundred Thousand Marching
One hundred thousand marching
One hundred thousand men
One hundred thousand heading
To a place and a time when
One hundred thousand dying
One hundred thousand cold
One hundred thousand praying
Forever young and never old
One hundred thousand lives were lost
One hundred thousand felt the pain
One hundred thousand maimed and slaughtered
And yet those armies march again.
poem by David Keig
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Nothing Like A Hundred Miles
I have tried to forget about you
And all the plans that we had planned
Yes, and Im bound to leave this town
I dont care where I may land
If what theyre telling me is true
And you have found somebody new
To love you
There aint but one thing I can do, baby
To save my heart from being broken in two by you
Baby, Im moving through
Theres nothing like a hundred miles
Between me and trouble in my mind
Theres nothing like a hundred miles
Show me the yellow line
Theres nothing like a hundred miles
When Im only passing through
Theres nothing like a hundred miles
To make me forget about you
Forget about you, baby
Dont we like our found farewells
And dont we like to keep our good-byes
Nice and clean
You may wish Id go to hell
While you tell me what a pleasure its been
So long, baby, Im moving on
Theres nothing like a hundred miles
Between me and trouble in mind
Theres nothing like a hundred miles
Somebody show me the yellow line
Theres nothing like a hundred miles
When Im only passing through
Theres nothing like a hundred miles
To make me forget about you
Forget about you
I have tried to forget about you
Baby, I have failed
Just as long as I stay in houston
I will
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When an aggressor force continually launches attacks from a particular base of operations, it is sound military strategy to take the flight to the enemy.
quote by Timothy McVeigh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There cannot be any better cross-section of America and I think the soldiers represent the best we have. Today's soldiers are brighter and smarter, perhaps in a different way, than past generations because they've been brought up in the computer and information age.
quote by Gerald Griffin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ninety-nine And A Half
I got to have all your love, night and day.
Not just a little part, but all of your heart, sugar.
Chorus:
Ninety-nine and a half just won't do.
Oh, no, no, just won't get it.
Don' t be led in the wrong direction.
To start this thing off right, a man need a little love and affection,
Yes he do, now.
Chorus
All right. lookie here,
We got to bring it all down, start gettin' it right.
We got to stop this messin' around, and keep the thing up tight,
Yes we do, now.
Chorus
All right, sugar.
Got to have a hundred,
Got to have a hundred.
All right.
Ooh, i must do, i must do,
I must do now.
Oh! got to have a hundred!
Got to have a hundred!
Oh! got to have a hu-hu-hu-hu-hu-hundred, too right.
Got to have a hundred, now. oh!
song performed by by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everybody knows that the great reversed triangle of land, with its base in the north and its apex in the south, which is called India, embraces fourteen hundred thousand square miles, upon which is spread unequally a population of one hundred and eighty millions of souls.
quote by Jules Verne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reconnaissance Commando Night Patrol (Novelinee)
Where enemy soldiers in tents do lie
in the darkness of night, the early hours
slowly, carefully we scout we sneak by,
pass fences, armed patrols, guard towers
and where they in bliss unaware sleep
during the midnight’s sombre icy chill
we reconnoitre, sabotage and peep
while they lie dreaming under wool and twill
we do apply our very special skills.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Ninety-nine & A Half
I got to have all your love, night and day.
Not just a little part, but all of your heart, sugar.
Chorus:
Ninety-nine and a half just wont do.
Oh, no, no, just wont get it.
Don t be led in the wrong direction.
To start this thing off right, a man need a little love and affection,
Yes he do, now.
Chorus
All right. lookie here,
We got to bring it all down, start gettin it right.
We got to stop this messin around, and keep the thing up tight,
Yes we do, now.
Chorus
All right, sugar.
Got to have a hundred,
Got to have a hundred.
All right.
Ooh, I must do, I must do,
I must do now.
Oh! got to have a hundred!
Got to have a hundred!
Oh! got to have a hu-hu-hu-hu-hu-hundred, too right.
Got to have a hundred, now. oh!
song performed by by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To have a girl like you
I remember you coming
to Pretoria station
to say goodbye
while I caught the train
to a military camp
and four months of war.
The clock on the wall
showed that we were
half an hour early
and I bought you a can of Coke
at the café
before we walked
to the right platform
where the train
departing to Cape Town
had just come in
and I carried the brown duffle bag
and was dressed in my brown uniform
with shining boots and beret
and your big blue eyes
had a life of their own.
It was always first Cape Town,
then De Brug (at Bloemfontein) ,
next Luhatla and after that to war
and by then you knew that route.
There was a sad smile on your face
and you were beautiful
in a classical way and slender
and I gave you a hug
and a goodbye kiss
and when that train left
we both waved.
Other soldiers where also
looking and waving at you
and some to loved ones
and another officer said
that I was lucky
to have a girl like you
and the next goodbye
was at Waterkloof military airbase,
but you wouldn’t be in it
and I didn’t know it then.
poem by Gert Strydom
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