To repeatedly launch into wartime mode is reactive. Viewing pandemics through a social justice lens is much more constructive and enduring – even beyond these challenging coronavirus times.
The story is apocryphal, and cannot be confirmed because soldiers who returned from the Central African Republic (CAR) were made to sign confidentiality agreements and told they would be prosecuted should they speak of their mission and its aftermath. Factual or not, the satisfaction with which it is told and retold speaks volumes.
In the story, a high-ranking officer visits soldiers in 1 Military Hospital outside Pretoria. Reaching the bedside of one badly wounded parabat (a member of the Parachute Battalion), the officer offers the usual sentiments: "Are you okay? Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Yes," the wounded man replies. "I need a favour. You see, before the battle I asked for a transfer from the parabats to a unit stationed closer to my family."
"Ah," says the officer, "I see. We can certainly expedite that for you."
"No sir," replies the soldier, "you don't understand. I need you to withdraw that application for me. There's no way I'm leaving my comrades."
Facing battle together, and losing unit members to enemy fire, seems to have had a remarkable unifying effect in a force that has faced deep divisions, and mutual mistrust, since 1994. And not just among those who were in combat.
Venom
"I'm proud of my unit, I'm proud of what we did up there," an army staffer who has been associated with the 44 Parachute Regiment in Bloemfontein for decades told the Mail & Guardian.
"I cried when I heard the news. I cried again when I heard how brave they had been."
That staffer is part of the old order, the white defence force that was merged with former liberation fighters, with a result that satisfied nobody. Changes in command structures, the shotgun marriage of groups with vastly different cultures (not to mention groups that had been implacable enemies), and the general budgetary and political neglect of the defence force has caused strain over the years. But this week there was little sign of division at the sprawling Tempe military base in Bloemfontein, home to the unit that saw their dead and wounded return from the CAR in recent weeks. Instead of infighting, there was a focus on external enemies.
"A parabat has never begged, and these men will never beg," spat one military member while recounting online chatter about how troops had conducted themselves in the CAR. "These are soldiers; soldiers who died on their feet."
The venom is directed at a far-right group that held – despite evidence to the contrary – that South African troops had fled and were shot in the back, but there are those with similar sentiments towards the government (for not supplying heavy equipment), the French (for not assisting the South Africans under fire), and others. Towards their comrades, however, the soldiers express only pride.
"It used to be difficult to go into this white town with my uniform on; people would look at me strange," said a black soldier. "Now they know I'm a soldier. They respect this uniform."