« FYI | Main | Honest to Goodness »
May 29, 2005
The Last Time
May 30th is Memorial Day in the United States. With that in mind I am remembering my high school friend and fellow soldier ‘Howard Remington’ who was killed in combat on the South West Africa/Angola border in 1979.
Howard became one of my best friends in the seventh grade at King Edward the Seventh High School. We met outside the principal’s office where we were both awaiting a caning from the Headmaster Mr. Corbett (also known as ‘Mango’ for his bald head or 'Chrome Dome’ because it was rumored that he had a metal plate in his head from a war accident).
Howard and I were being punished for what Mr. Corbett called ‘unacceptable lewd mischief’. (We were both caught sniggering while looking up Mrs. Lombard’s dress as she walked up the stairs to her classroom.)
Howard and I went through high school together and both played in the same rugby team. We both started our military training at the same time but were assigned to different units. Howard to the infantry and I was assigned to the artillery.
I saw Howard occasionally during my military service mostly on Sunday nights at the Johannesburg train station from where most soldiers would leave to go back to their units after weekend passes.
I was fortunate enough to see Howard one Sunday before I was due to leave for Counter Insurgency training in Derdepoort and he was off to what was known as the ‘’Operational Area’. (The border between what is now called Namibia and Angola where South Africa was fighting against SWAPO freedom fighters.)
Howard was telling me about how he could not wait to get out of the army. He told me that his dream was to go back to the border one day and find a way to build some schools for the kids in that area. “They really need help,” he said. “They are so poor and it breaks my heart to see the little buggers suffer like that. They have got nothing. I mean they don’t even have shoes most of them. If we can help them with an education they will have a better future. That’s for sure.”
I’ll never forget shaking Howard’s hand and wishing him a safe trip. In my mind I still have the image of him walking away from me in slow motion and then turning and flashing one of his warm and mischievous grins over his shoulder as he got onto the train.
As the coach passed I saw him through the window. He smiled again and winked. Then he was gone.
I never saw Howard again.
He was killed on the border a few days later.
I really miss my friend today.
Posted by trevor at May 29, 2005 09:13 PM
Comments
howard sounds like a good oke - the type of guy that could have a made a huge difference even - or especially - now. somehow that silly war seems even more useless than most.your post was good. jolted the memory. may our children be spared the same follies.
mooi loop.
harry
Posted by: harry at May 30, 2005 02:45 AM
I don't doubt that Howard did, in fact, make a difference before he died. Judging by the description, he sounds like a good guy whose ambition was to help others. Non-selfish, good-hearted people like that are worth their weight in gold in a military unit, especially one that is going into battle. Here's a drink to the memory of all the good men who went to war because they had to and did their duty.
Posted by: E.K. at May 31, 2005 08:44 PM