I Join The Army

For an account of Jack's happy childhood years, go to  www.taylorjack.blogspot.com

I recall how at boarding school, during study periods at night, five of us used to talk about the future and in particular the prospect of being caught up in a war.

This was in my matric year, 1934, when Hitler was making war noises. Needless to say, of the five of us, two were killed in the war. Ironically, the one chap whose name was Oelofse and who had the nickname of "Spike" - a German steel helmet - because of his German extraction, was killed as a Royal Air Force pilot in the Battle of Britain.

After school days, I was a bank clerk for two years and in 1937 took up Articles of Clerkship with the intention of becoming a lawyer. As we all know, South Africa declared war on Germany in September 1939. After completing my Law exams in that year, I continued with my Articles but in 1940 during October, the urge to join the Army became too great and I enlisted. My Articles of Clerkship, which was for a period of five years, was incomplete as I had a further two years to go.

I was not attached to any regiment and first tried to join the Air Force as a pupil pilot. This was unsuccessful: I was turned down because of my eyesight, but there was a building in Schoeman Street, Pretoria, known as Impala House, where recruits were being taken on.

Recruits lining up to sign on 

After doing the necessary, I became Private T.P. Taylor No 2346392 and was sent to Central Army Training depot, Milner Park, Johannesburg. My pay was three shillings and sixpence (35 cents) per day. I was drilled and chased about until one fine day I was asked if I would like to go on a course at the Military College at Voortrekkerhoogte in Pretoria.

In due course I found myself at the Military College under the protective care of one Sergeant Loots. He was a Permanent Force man, with a violent dislike of Civvy Street recruits. An intimate appreciation of the gentleman came soon. He was in charge of our drilling squad. 

Military College, Voortrekkerhoogte, Pretoria

Whilst being chased around on the parade ground, I heard the shrill command "HALT!"

I did my best and then he came up to me: "What is your name?"

"Taylor", I said.

He said: "I don't like you and I don't like your face. Quick march!"

That no doubt was his idea of a formal introduction.

One of the men on the course was a chap called Nel, who came from South West Africa (now Namibia). He stood six feet high, was strongly built, had a very dark complexion and was given the nickname of "Black Bomber".

My brush with the Bomber came about in this way: every afternoon after work, I took a shower, sat on my bed and attended to the cleaning and cutting of my nails. The Bomber used to watch me intently. I recall going on weekend pass, came back and settled down to my usual routine. However, I found that my manicure set was missing from my kit. There was no doubt in my mind that the Bomber was responsible for its disappearance. I did not say a word and waited for the next weekend, when the Bomber went on pass, opened his suitcase and recovered my set.

The next day, I followed my usual routine of attending to my nails, etc. The Bomber of course saw me with my manicure set and stood staring at me without saying a word. The question is, who was the thief: the Bomber or I?