1 Recce. Alexander Strachan
They decided to wait for a while. By this time their throats were parched, tension was running high, and the adrenaline was pumping strongly. To their immense relief, the submarine surfaced nearby just after 04:30. They quickly dismantled the Kleppers and took them into the submarine. Later they would discover the reason for the delay: the submarine had become entangled in the nets of a fishing boat, and Woodburne’s crew first had to get rid of the problem before they could proceed to the RV point. Bits of fishing net were still twisted around the propeller of the submarine, and the naval divers went down to remove these the following morning.
They remained in the vicinity of Dar es Salaam the next day to monitor the Tanzanian radio broadcasts from the submarine. From the broadcasts they were able to conclude that political commentators were generally of the view that the blasts were the handiwork of insurgents who had started an armed revolt under the leadership of Oscar Kambona.
Back in South Africa, Woodburne and Breytenbach were each awarded the Van Riebeeck Decoration (DVR) for their part in the operation. The other team members all received the Van Riebeeck Medal (VRM) .
But V. Adm. Johnson did not want to give permission for their next operation, an attack on the oil refinery at Dar es Salaam. He was still concerned about the risks that the uncharted coral reefs posed to the safety of a submarine. They had been very lucky to return unscathed the first time, he said. Although the Army was in favour of a follow-up operation, the Chief of the Defence Force supported Johnson in his decision.
As a result of the Dar es Salaam operation, Breytenbach wanted the Recces to undergo more advanced seaborne training. They subsequently went to France for two to three months to complete an attack-diving course.
In early 1973, Breytenbach started looking around for a suitable officer to serve under him as adjutant. This was a key appointment, as the adjutant was the unit commander’s chief administrative staff officer. He was responsible for various administrative functions and had to look after discipline in the unit together with the regimental sergeant major (RSM); thus he also served as the eyes and ears of the commander. Because he got to see all information, the adjutant was familiar with everything that happened in the unit.
Capt. John More happened to be on his way to Pretoria to make enquiries about diving watches. There he bumped into his old friend Capt. Malcolm Kinghorn whom he knew from the Military Academy. At that point Kinghorn was working with controlled items of the SA Army – hence with anything that had a serial number, whether it was a watch, a pistol or a truck. He told More about the high living costs in the capital city, and that he was considering leaving the Defence Force for a career in tertiary education. More soon discovered how thoroughly Kinghorn had his finger on the pulse of all numbered items in the army; for instance, he could immediately establish the number of vehicles or weapons at any infantry unit and report back on it.
Kinghorn’s skills could be of great advantage to them, More realised. He had outstanding writing skills, he knew the entire system at Army HQ, which included all the people, and he was an expert at organising projects. Moreover, he had a broad general knowledge and was a historian in his own right to boot.
So More asked him if he would consider coming to Oudtshoorn, and suggested that he do the jump course at once in order to earn the extra R20 parachute allowance per month. No, said Kinghorn, he had high blood pressure and teeth implants, and wore glasses. And besides, he added, he had ‘no aspirations to become a hero’. But More encouraged him enthusiastically, and he was prepared to consider such an offer. As a bonus, it would mean he could leave Pretoria to move to a more affordable environment.
Back in Oudtshoorn, More reported to Breytenbach that he had identified the ideal candidate to become their admin officer. Breytenbach immediately called Gen. Willem Louw (his old friend since parachuting days) to arrange the transfer. The next thing Kinghorn heard, he was summoned by Louw who told him to ‘pack his bags and go to Oudtshoorn’.
Kinghorn was well acquainted with the Oudtshoorn area – as a young officer he had done courses there at 1 South African Infantry Battalion (1 SAI) – and seized the opportunity with both hands. Besides, he had known Breytenbach and company since the days they had come to Pretoria to request Sabre vehicles to be used during Operation Da Gama. In March 1973, Kinghorn became 1 RC’s adjutant.
Because the group had lacked an adjutant up to that point, these tasks were performed by Dan Lamprecht and More. When Kinghorn arrived, Breytenbach was in the Caprivi, setting up Fort Doppies. Kinghorn immediately took the role of adjutant onto his shoulders and also took care of an array of other tasks. He was assisted by Hoppie Fourie. Hoppie was a former paratrooper, but had become the storeman after falling out of favour with Breytenbach. Malcolm and Hoppie got the unit’s administration up and running – Hoppie in his stores depot and Kinghorn in a small room right opposite him.
Kinghorn realised there was only one way to gain his colleagues’ full acceptance: he had to voluntarily undergo the Special Forces’ entire training cycle. He did so, and succeeded in meeting the requirements of a Recce operator. His training started in 1974 with the diving course in Simon’s Town. All the members of the Oudtshoorn group tackled the diving course at some or other point. Some suffered badly from claustrophobia, however, and were unable to pass the course. But they were still employed with great success in many other capacities.
The group often went diving together in the Mossel Bay area. One day while they were taking a break at the Pavilion on Santos Beach, two men came racing up in a rubber duck. The two were part of a team who were in the process of culling seals – in those days it was still allowed. Their nets had got caught on the rocks, and they needed assistance to extricate them. So Koos, More and Kenaas went along to lend a hand.
They quickly managed to free the nets. When the younger man asked how he could compensate them, Koos asked them to catch him a live seal cub. He had seen in the circus how cute such a baby seal could be and now wanted a seal of his own.
The young man then caught a baby seal and presented it to Koos. The cub tried to bite, but with a struggle they managed to shove the wriggling animal into the diving bag. By that time they had been gone for two hours, and Breytenbach’s patience was wearing thin.
‘Where the hell have you been the whole time?’ he asked angrily. But when Koos produced the cub from the diving bag, Breytenbach’s mood changed and he was chuffed with the new ‘find’. The seal would be the Recces’ mascot, he declared, and fittingly baptised the cub Klein-Koos (Little Koos).
By ten o’clock that evening they had finished with the exercise and headed back to Oudtshoorn with Klein-Koos. It was only then that they started wondering what they were going to do with the seal. Koos suggested that they put him inside the enclosure at the fish pond of the non-commissioned officers’ mess.
The next morning, the Command was in a state of commotion. Feathers lay strewn around, the ducks were dead, and not a single live fish was left in the pond. The RSM was frantically looking for the persons who had caused the havoc. Moreover, the Recces discovered that Klein-Koos was missing. They went searching for him surreptitiously up and down the streets of Oudtshoorn, but with no luck; there was no sign of the seal.
The same night they had arrived at the base with the seal, a national serviceman happened to be returning from pass at midnight. He walked into the base unsuspectingly, was gobsmacked by what he saw, and rushed to the sergeant on duty. ‘Sergeant, I’ve just seen a seal walking out of the gate!’ he announced. The sergeant was so annoyed with the cheeky troop that he decided on the spot to arrest him for drunkenness.
Koos and the rest now knew that Klein-Koos was definitely outside the base, but still they could not find any trace of him. Then they came across a clue in Oudtshoorn’s local newspaper: ‘Cape fur seal found in Oudtshoorn!’ the paper reported. A housewife had found the seal among the milk bottles on her stoep as she opened her front door. The protesting seal had been wrapped in a wet blanket and released into the sea at Herold’s Bay. The incident had also been reported to the SPCA, and this organisation was urgently in search of the culprits who had removed the seal from its natural habitat. Thus Klein-Koos had found his way back to the sea via a strange detour, and the Recces were without a mascot.
There