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Sep 14, 2010

Tale Gunner: The Lighter Side of South African Military Life

I read somewhere that laughing is nature's way of providing the body with an antidote to stress. It apparently releases endorphins, a hormone which is more potent than morphine. This new release is due to be published in April 2011. There’s no doubt that this book will definitely become a best seller.


The book can be pre-ordered now from Amazon.com or Kalahari.net.

Product Description

Nothing quite beats that rawness of military humor. It’s the same the world over. This hilarious collection of South African military anecdotes will—for the less sensitive reader—have you doubled up with mirth.

Here’s a taster …

… If that is what it feels like to be blown to smithereens, then it’s not too bad.The noise of the explosion was horrendous and I lay on my back and gazed at my shredded shirt. When will the pain start? I thought, or will I die before that? I think I’d prefer to die than have the agony. I wiped my stomach and expected see copious quantities of blood. There was none, so I sat up. Van was already sitting. He too studied his body for mortal wounds and found none. We looked at each other and grinned. It was so silly. But where was Samil Venter? We stood and began dusting ourselves off as a groan caught my attention. Then we saw him: Sergeant-Major Venter was stalking around clutching his one hand. His thumb had been blown clean off, but so too had his trousers and underpants. His shirt was shredded and bits of material that used to be his combat pants hung from his webbing belt. Then there were his bare, long sinewy legs and finally his boots. The tops of his socks were also gone. He looked up at me, his face full of anguish, his teeth AWOL. His mouth was once again a maw: “Brookth, jou poeth! Kom hier!”
I went to him immediately. “Yes, sergeant-major,” I stammered.
“Ith my jewels nog daar? Ith my fokken jewels nog daar?”
I lifted my hand and felt, probably the way a doctor does when he asks you to cough. His genitalia were burnt black as were his inner thighs, also his leg hairs, but his precious jewels were there, intact. I smiled up at him. “Hulle is a betjie gebrand, sa’majoor, maar hulle is nog daar,”
“Okay, then, get out of my sight, jou poeth,” he said quietly.
I was hurt. We have this … this moment … and he tells me to get lost!

1 comments:

Macaw said...

Brilliant... I reckon we all have stories when we were in the SADF all those years ago....