Nakedness in the
military
THE South African Defence Force[1]
was not an environment friendly to nudism – that stands to reason, since its
function was directed elsewhere.
Nor is there
any reason to believe that this has changed since the force became, in 1994,
the SA National Defence Force.
Yet it
remains, by all reports, an environment characterised by a highly sensible
attitude towards nakedness in the confines in which it is tolerated.
At the time I
was called up for National Service in 1968, the SADF had been concerned over
the incidence of institutional homosexuality. In order to combat this tendency
(whether or not the tendency existed to any great extent in the ranks) new
specifications were laid down for ablution facilities which were reflected in
the newly refurbished blocks my infantry company took occupation of in May of
that year.
They were
designed without doors, either external or internal, the privacy of the
facility being provided by means of an L-shaped wall around the entrance. Inside, there were no partitions higher than about 1,2 m – even around the toilet stalls. The showers, which occupied roughly a quarter to a third of the
rectangular building, were separated from the rest of the room by nothing more
than a step (to prevent flooding of the rest of the area).
The result
was that troopies, as national servicemen were called, quickly lost any shyness
they had retained after three months of basic training – during which time they
had been occupying bungalows[2] in which they had no privacy from their fellows in any case.
Out of doors,
however, there was no occasion for nakedness in training camp.
What outdoor
nakedness did exist was to be found at field training areas, where open-air
shower facilities (unroofed, but with corrugated iron outside walls) were
provided, and in the deep bush, where troops deployed in the “operational area”[3] were obliged to wash themselves without facilities housed in buildings. This might entail taking a bath at a waterhole during a break from a patrol. Shower facilities were also provided at tented camps in areas like the Limpopo valley or the far north of South West Africa.[4]
These were often partitioned off with only hessian screens, which were also
provided for the outdoor toilets.
But one
significant naked event stands out as I look back on my undecorated military
career.[5]
It happened
in Owambo, which at that time was a self-governing Bantustan state occupying
roughly the middle third of the northernmost part of South West, as it was
known.
Before being
sent to Owambo we were told that for a few months of the year there was lots of
rain in that region, falling in heavy thundershowers.
The region is
a vast plateau covered many metres deep with sand – red sand at the southern
end, but for the most, white sand. The sand, in turn, is covered by hardwood
bush, and in many areas the forest was extremely dense, the trees standing to a
height of between 3 m and 4 m.
When the
rainy season is over, the only available water is in pans which remain full for
a time after the rains, but then becomes scarce. So the army resorted to
various means of storing water, and to carting it out to isolated base camps.
The same
applied to the infantry company I was with in Owambo. The battalion base was
along the tarred road running from the Oshivelo gate (entrance to Owambo, and a
cattle disease checkpoint) to Oshakati, the main centre of the tribal
territory. But the company base was in fairly deep bush about two hours’ drive
away along sand tracks, and all our water was carried in in tanks towed by
transport vehicles.
Another thing
to bear in mind about Owambo is that it is tropical, so the sun is something to
be avoided in the heat of the day.
So when we
set up camp in what had, until our arrival, been pristine bush, the members of
my company first of all had to make a clearing in which to erect its tents, and
erect a defensive perimeter. Within that perimeter, tents were erected for
company purposes and to house those who would remain in base more or less
permanently. The rest were instructed to erect shelters.
We had all
been issued with groundsheets, but there were enough for accommodation
purposes, so several of the men put their groundsheets up as shelters from the
sun.
We had been
in camp for a few days and were beginning to feel rather dirty – there was
water for showering, but not much – when one afternoon the heavens opened up
and it started raining.
Well, I was
used to rain in South Africa, from light drizzle to driving winter rain across
the Cape Flats, but I had never seen rain falling so intensely while the weather was
still warm. It was like a showerbath.
I looked
outside, decided it was time to have a wash, and stepped out naked and carrying
a cake of soap. As I washed I simply enjoyed this flood from the sky – it was
so strong that I didn’t even have to use my hands to rinse the suds off – but
when I had finished I looked around and noticed that the groundsheets had
filled with water, and were about to overflow.
My first
thought was to tip the water out, but then it struck me that we could save the
water, filling up the two-wheeled trailer tanks we used daily, and which were
emptying fast.
So I went
across to the nearest one and started tipping the water into the tank. But it
was tricky doing it alone, so I called for help, and soon more than half a
dozen naked men – including the company sergeant-major – were running around
collecting water, manhandling the trailers under the groundsheets so that not a
drop was lost.
It was really
good fun, and nobody paid any attention to the fact that we were all
buck-naked.
The pity was
that this only happened once while I was in Owambo. The rainy season came to an
end after that and we simply had to endure the hot weather, and using carted
water.
But the water
we saved lasted a good week, and saved a bit on fuel, too.
– Strandloper
