User:Zimdays

[[CONVOY. BIET BRIDGE TO FORT VICTORIA. RHODESIA AUGUST 1979. It’s seven thirty and he stands there so proud, Whilst the drivers in union, all gather around. With hands set on his hips. Legs parted astride, He begins his set talk on the forthcoming ride. There are some among us that listen intently. Others just stare and then cough politely. Some show bravado covering fears from within. The rest can’t wait for the convoy to begin. ‘We will be there by eleven, that’s all being well, But we may make a contact, we cannot really tell. If we do you must just drive, that area to clear, They will do the rest, those men there at the rear’. ‘No touching of sticks or stripped tyres on the road, They may carry the easing of some terrorists load. No overtaking, no racing, no driving to near. It’s your life we’re protecting, we hold it most dear’. It is now seven thirty and time for us to leave. Police in their turrets, just stare at us, exressionless. The long line of cars starts moving, slowly snaking through. At Bambi Hotel the convoy stops for a snack but there no one can stay. The bush rushes past, looks so calm, not showing what’s hidden. Once in a while, the eyes of a buck can be seen from the bush. We are mesmerised by the drone from the road. Up above, we’re startled by the distant drone, gradually it becomes apparent, its a plane, as it passes above us before searching again. Out in n the bush soldiers manoeuvring we see. As horsemen of both races go searching for "terrorists'. Muscles tighten around the steering wheel at the sight of a vulture in the sky. Minds wonder, a dead animal?, a body? We shift uncomfortably in our seats. The snake of cars continues moving. We are well on our way and hills soon appear. The hils are full of natural beauty, a calm facade pervades us all, yet one cannot escape the sense of foreboding....and fear. The line snakes away around each bend in the road. Eating the miles that on our clocks now have grown. A road sign, 60 kilometres to go...It will not be too long now before we reach our destination. We can stop for a bite and a breath of fresh air. We see the first sign of a red roof in the distance...at last Fort Victoria, the sighs of relief are almost visible. We were in no danger, we are all safe. Time for the police to turn about and return with a smile. As they travel each mile after dangerous mile. I dont remember uttering a single word of thanks. Today I give my thanks through the point of this pen. To the B.S.A.P. and her camouflaged men. ]] Jamie Smith