MEMORIES, ARMY LIFE

Pub Crawling After Making Sergeant

After that night, I swore I would never drink that evil devil juice again

I signed up for permanent military service after my first divorce (yes, there was one more) in November 1989.

Because of my previous work experience and my level of education, I received the entry rank of corporal, but still had to do all necessary military courses young soldiers would have to do to get the rank.

At my request, when I applied, they stationed me in Cape Town. All military courses took place in Pretoria. Somewhere in 1990, I was away from home for six weeks to do my basic military training.

When I think of those six weeks, a smile always forms. It was wonderful — everything was — even the hard things, such as being woken up at 4 a.m. for inspection or having to run around the enormous red-dust parade ground repeatedly.

I remember watching in horror as the sergeant — our instructor — sent a fellow soldier to the other side of the parade ground to get a leave of ‘that’ tree, and when she came back, the sergeant said: “Not that one, the other tree!” Punishment came in strange ways during those six weeks.

For the first two weeks, they confined us to the camp, but after that, we got weekend passes and many of us visited bars where we could drink and dance. This was also the only place where we could mingle with our male colleagues.

During my basic training, I was drunk twice, and on one of those occasions, we drove on the grounds of the Voortrekker Monument, and I yelled at the driver to pull to the curb, threw my door open and barfed on the pavement. Not a very patriotic thing to do!

Now I have always said that the army made it easy for its members to become alcoholics. Booze was cheap, and back then salaries were good because of being on call 24/7.

It was only in 1993 — by now I worked at headquarters in Pretoria — that I did the Junior Non-Commissioned Officers' Course, which was to validate my rank of corporal. Six months later, in October 1993, I did the senior version of the course, making me eligible for promotion to the rank of sergeant.

They promoted me to sergeant early in December 1993. That same evening, colleagues took me out to go pub crawling. A civilian colleague-friend of mine from Cape Town, who was in Pretoria for a course, was the instigator of the drinking spree.

My ‘poison’ back then was Captain Morgan, but my friend also wanted me to try other things. I was game, but when I started feeling queasy, I wanted to keep to one kind of liquor. It must’ve been the fifth or sixth bar we hit where she finally got me to drink brandy. Up to then, it was the only thing on her list I hadn’t had a shot of yet.

The pure brandy burned down my throat, and the face I pulled caused all of us to laugh.

Oh, we laughed and joked all night, and it was the best celebration I ever had!

Until it wasn’t anymore.

We went to bed when we got to my house, but I never fell asleep. Within minutes, nausea overwhelmed me and I rushed to the toilet. Have you ever tried to throw up softly so you don’t wake someone else?

Can’t be done!

It wasn’t necessary either.

My friend — bless her — rushed to my side with a wet facecloth, rubbed my back, and held my hair. I think her feelings were a mixture of feeling sorry for me, and feeling guilty for getting me to drink the brandy.

Because the brandy was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Or because the brandy was the devil juice that broke me!

I had never before (and have never again) been as drunk as that night. Every time I thought I was done throwing up, my friend tried to get me to bed. The moment I got up, I started throwing up again. I hung over the toilet pot and even drifted off to sleep for minutes, but I had to stay in one position only.

It was only when day broke that my tummy was finally in such a state that I could get up and go to bed.

Ever since then, even now still, when I smell brandy, my stomach turns upside down!

After that night, I swore I would never drink that evil devil juice again.

Note: I wrote the above for one of these prompts by KiKi Walter

If you’re thinking of joining Medium, click on my referral link to support me and other writers.

Find more of Marie on her lists, and here…