“Captain. Good morning,” said Sergeant Night as he and Constables Shaka and Stanislov stood to attention and saluted the officer after walking into Section Four.
“Good morning Sergeant, Constables.”
Sergeant Night had collected Zulu from the Lanseria Airport the day before when he had been brought up from KwaZulu Natal in a SAPF transport plane. Sergeant Night greeted his brother with a smile and a warm handshake and received in return a massive bear hug from the giant.
“The burial went well and my elders are content with how the ceremony was carried out. He’s better now Mike. Henry is with my ancestors and we should not talk about him any more, after this day or we will disturb his soul” Zulu had said to Night.
“I am happy everything went well and I understand.”
“Though Mike, his spirit will not be completely restful until uSathane is dead. And I must kill him. It doesn’t matter if I do it on or off duty, legally or not but I have to kill that thing! It is my duty as a brother and as a Zulu.”
“I know my brother I understand. I would do the same. The time is coming for us to meet uSathane and destroy him.”
“But I must do it Mike, no one else!”
“Okay, then it will be so. Somehow we will ensure you get the kill shot… or kill.. um stab. The General is putting a plan in place. For now though we must wait until the idea is ready and until the time is right.”
Daniel Shaka protested to Night that he wanted to go into Alex that day, right then and there after Colonel Sifisu Sibanda of the ZNA and kill him. He had the lust for blood. For uSathane’s blood. Night though, always cool and composed, calmed his friend and explained all that had happened. He revealed how uSathane had planted dynamite across Alexandra Township, targeting innocent civilians and had placed snipers and RPGs on the roof in anticipation of their arrival. He explained about the Gadhafi gold and the General’s plan to go after uSathane in the Karoo and kill him and his platoon of ZNA soldiers. The idea went down well with Zulu, surprisingly well. He seemed energised by the idea, freed perhaps from the thought of having to strictly follow the letter of the law while hunting down his brother’s killer and mutilator.
Night then sealed Zulu’s good mood by driving him to the Radium Beerhall where he had set up a surprise party for the colossal warrior. An Irish style wake but in South African police jargon the Zero Zero. (In South African Police Code 00 meant booking off duty and is used at the end of a shift on the radio network and in the occurrence book.)
The Zero Zero had been so well attended that the bar was over capacity by 1800 and at 0100 in the morning when police officers carried out an impromptu 21 gun salute, that was actually more like a 300 gun salute, concerned members of the public called 10111 and the police were called on a complaint of a shooting in progress.
The arriving police vehicles were shocked when they saw what was happening and realised they had not been invited and were quick to join in the celebratory remembrance of Zulu’s brother. The wake had reminded Night of the comradely nature of the Force and how all that mattered was the colour of blue to the men of the Force and not the colour of a man’s skin.
The celebration of Henry’s life had to be called to an abrupt halt though when members of the Johannesburg Metropolitan Police found out about it and started to arrive en masse. The only way they were convinced to leave was on a promise of another wake, this time at the Metro HQ. Night had enjoyed the wake immensely and felt Henry would have been pleased by his send off by his final Zero Zero.
The men appreciated the Zero Zero but regretted the morning after effects that they were all feeling now.
For Sergeant Night, what compounded the feeling of nausea and sickness was the fact that he had gone to the armoury earlier in the morning and had been told by Warrant Officer Van Der Heerden that there was absolutely nothing wrong with his shotgun and that there was still a round in the chamber when he had booked it in and that round fired perfectly on the first and slightest pull of the trigger. The Warrant Officer was kind in not admonishing Night for leaving a live round in the chamber but kinder still for not reporting Night for such an amateurish and potentially lethal mistake. Night could have sworn though that he had racked the rounds clear and made the weapon safe but such was the gunfight and his dose of VODE the morning after that he couldn’t be sure. The news had shaken Night for both reasons.
“Shark Shit, this is your field training officer, the lead FTO for the Norwood station, Sergeant Michael Night, just Sergeant to you people! And his crew members, Constables Stanislov and Shaka. Sergeant Night meet your new Shark Shit!”
The six recruits all greeted Night and his crew in a mumble of “Sergeant, Constables.” And weak and timid nods of the head. All except for one young man, a wiry, strong black Student Constable with deep velvet dark skin, sharp facial features, bright white teeth and wide and beaming eyes.
He stepped out of his place in the parade walked straight up to Sergeant Night and stood to attention and saluted and said: “My name is Steven Dlamini and I know who you are Michael Night and I am going to be your best student and I will travel in the Beast with you and train with you!”
“What the fuck do you think you are doing you bloody stupid blixem you! Get back in line and stand on parade you bloody stupid black bastard!” screamed a red faced Captain Van Der Merwe.
“Hey shut up you bloody racist Afrikaner square head! Can’t you see I am introducing myself to my General here!”
Captain Van Der Merwe came striding over and produced his PR24 Tonfa from his belt. “I will show you, you bloody cheeky monkey!...”
“Captain, with your permission may I have a word with the young student?” Night said while raising his arm in a gesture saying don’t knock out the insubordinate little shit just yet.
“Firstly Student Constable Dlamini you should not have left your position in parade without the Captain’s permission and you must be disciplined for this act of ill-discipline. Secondly, thank you for the introduction, my men and I greet you. Also I am not a General, I am a Sergeant, therefore you must address me as Sergeant and not refer to me as a General and lastly why on earth do you think you will be the one who trains with us, in the Beast and with November Whisky 50? You seem to know so much about us that you surely know that the student who trains with us must earn that right in that boxing ring behind you?”
“Yes General I know! I will knock these other babies out in that ring, they all know that I will, you can ask them. And I am sorry if I stepped out of parade but I have been waiting for this moment my whole life. Since the first time you guys stopped and searched me on Louis Botha Avenue about two years ago I have wanted to become like you General.”
“So two years is your whole life hey? And I’m not a General…”
“I remember you..” interrupted Constable Shaka “We stopped you and a friend of yours walking down Louis Botha and 10th Avenue in Highlands North, you resisted us searching you and we would have arrested you but we had an Alpha call come through. Remember Mike?”
“No. Actually I don’t.”
“Sho, sho, sho! Eish, I forgot how big you are, you are like a big fig tree!” Dlamini said while staring up at the tower of Shaka that now stood over him. “Yes you are right, that was me and I am sorry for trying to stop you from searching me but I had some dagga on me that day and I didn’t want you to find it, but remember what I said, I said I would be with you guys one day and with the great General in uniform with you, here I am ready for duty” he said staring forward and standing to attention once more.
“Get back in line and on parade Dlamini.”
“Yes General!” he said and quickly got back in line with a stupid grin on his face.
“See what I have to put up with Sergeant Night, these stupid bloody okes just get worse and worse. Anyway these little shits are all yours now, sign here!” Captain Van Der Merwe handed Night the official SAPF document transferring responsibility for the new students.
“I
have already sorted out their accommodation in the barracks and have introduced them to the station Logistics Officer. All you need to do is train them not to die too quickly out there and don’t forget Sergeant that they all still need to do their standard six months’ duty in the charge office. And I suggest making Dlamini do a year in there before you let him loose on the public. My best two Norwood students are Piet and Jan, the two brothers in front, good Afrikaans boys, they get my recommendation for on the street training with you and your men. Good luck Sergeant, you will need it.”
And with that Captain Van Der Merwe strode out of the Gymnasium still fuming with anger over Dlamini’s actions. In the old force that would never have happened, Dlamini would have been beaten to a pulp for such bad behaviour and probably wouldn’t have made it through basic training. Night usually would come down hard on such a cocky student but Night saw something in Steven Dlamini that he could only describe as heroic. He had an aura about him, a magnetic presence and he radiated strength, Night liked him, and did in fact remember him from the stop and search two years earlier, and so did Shaka and Stanislov.
Besides, Dlamini was right about Captain Van Der Merwe, he was a racist and he favoured white students such as the two he had pointed out before he left. They were two blonde brothers who looked as though they had stepped straight off a farm, broad shouldered and rosy cheeked. Tough, good Afrikaner boys, and the only contenders other than Dlamini Night could think of who would stand a chance of winning the ring battle to train with him.
The annual tradition was that the first Student Constable who wanted to train with Night on the road, and avoid being immediately placed in the charge office to conduct admin duties would have to earn the right in the boxing ring in a ‘King of the Ring’ style boxing match. All the students would pile in with gloves and headgear on and beat the crap out of each other until the last man was standing. This was the only fair way to decide who rode with the Black Bastards first. The selection test started four years earlier after a fight broke out within a dozen SCs about who would be the chosen one. Night just decided to formalise the fight and make it a bit safer by using head gear, the station commissioner reluctantly agreed but insisted on gloves being worn, she didn’t stipulate which type of gloves though. So the ultra-light 4oz gloves commonly used in MMA competitions were used.
“All right gentlemen, my name is Sergeant Night, just call me Sergeant, and this is Constable Shaka and Constable Stanislov. I am the lead Field Training Officer here at Norwood. Over the next year I will oversee your on the job training to ensure it is carried out correctly and you are prepared for what is waiting for you out there, on the streets of the most fucked up and dangerous city in the world. There are three more official Field Training Officers or FTOs here at Norwood that I will introduce you to over the next couple of days but you may be placed with any senior constable or higher rank for tuition. You will obey any lawful instruction given to you by any officer of a higher rank than you, that basically means everyone. But remember the most important rule: always follow the chain of command. Is that clear, gentlemen?”
“Yes sir.”
Shaka’s voice boomed out.
“Does he look like a sir? Really? Or do those stripes on his shoulder make him look like a Sergeant! I thought so, he protects for a living, he serves for a living, so call him Sergeant! Sergeant understood, not General, Dlamini, and not sir, but Sergeant! Yes Sergeant!” Shaka played the role of a Regimental Sergeant Major perfectly.
“Yes Sergeant.”
“The Sergeant can’t hear you, speak up like you have a pair!”
“YES SERGEANT!!”
“That’s better.”
Sergeant Night continued: “Now I am only going to tell you this once so listen up and listen well. A police officer is killed once every three days in Johannesburg so everything we are going to show you will be to try and stop you from getting killed. I cannot guarantee that you won’t be murdered out there but I can provide you with the tactics to avoid it. The rest is up to you. Basically everything we show you will be for your benefit not ours. Do you understand this point? We have no other desire than to train you to the best of your ability. Everything we do will be for you, not us. So the minute you give us any shit or back chat us we will simply relegate you to the charge office and let you find your own way on the street. Yes, it’s that harsh and yes nobody at the top gives a shit about you, whether you are trained properly or not, as long as I tick the boxes they are happy. Do you get it?”
The Student Constables kept quiet and looked at each other.
“Do you get it?”
One of the blue eyed blond haired farmer boys spoke: “I don’t understand Sergeant, don’t you have to train us, don’t you have to make sure we know what we are doing, isn’t that your job?”
“In better times, yes perhaps, but now in the middle of a war on crime and ruthless, murdering AK wielding criminals and when one of my brothers dies every few days, no. It is not my job to train every single one of you because the odds are that even if I do one of you is going to get your head blown off out there. So I can only train the best of you. We can only afford to start with the best. Do you understand now?”
“But we can’t all be the best Sergeant and if we’re not then you won’t train us and we won’t be ready and we shouldn’t be allowed on the streets as police officers.”
“You can all be the best, there are over 100 police stations in and around Johannesburg, an average of 500 new recruits per yearly intake, so you can be the best of the intake but if you do not aspire to be the best you will not even be allowed to pass through our furnace of training, if you question, without reason, as questions are good, our methods and most importantly our reasons for training you, then you will be allowed to fail, allowed to die as plastic policemen.”
“Plastic policemen are like those Metro square heads who got killed last week at the Metropolitan Bank hey General!” said Dlamini.
Sergeant Night kept quiet and looked at Shaka, Shaka understood and spoke.
“Yes loudmouth Dlamini, they were plastic policemen and they died because they made mistakes. Mistakes that we will show you not to make. That is the reality of what is going on out there. If you do not operate tactically you will fucking die. It’s that simple. Now let me tell you loudmouth Dlamini that one of those Metro ‘square heads’ was my brother, Henry, and he died because he was too young, too naïve and too ready to impress me and my colleagues by rushing into situations that he was not ready to handle. Just like you Dlamini. And yes he died because he was not the best. Now we have spoken about that incident and about my brother’s death. You will not speak about it again and if you do I promise I will break you!”
“And I will put a bullet in your head” said Stanislov softly.
Night took over: “All right so now we all understand each other, we all agree on one thing, that we do not want you to be plastic policemen. And that we want you to stay alive and kill the enemy with us. Now I will cover some rules about working here. Firstly there are no politics or politicians in the police force, we enforce the law, that’s it. We do not care who is in government or who calls herself madam president of the country. We care not for bullshit like political parties and policies. We enforce the law and we protect those who cannot protect themselves no matter who is in political power. Is that clear?”
“YES SERGEANT!!”
“Good. Secondly I do not tolerate racism. Not because I give a shit if you hate the stupid whites or if you can’t stand the dumb blacks but because racism itself is a senseless fucking notion. To think that you can judge somebody on the colour of their pigment is a retarded idea and will quite clearly display to me that you are in fact a wanker. And I will then leave you in the charge office to die as a plastic racist policemen, are we clear?”
“YES SERGEANT!!”
“And finally everybody fights! Whether it be a fist fight or a fire fight, you must fight! That means you must engage the enemy whe
n the time arrives, you must be prepared to kill the enemy, my enemy and yours and I will risk my life to kill your enemy so you better do the same for me and my men. If you do not fight when the time comes then I will make sure you are thrown off the force dishonourably. This is the most important violation that you must never commit, the only act that will result in me completely giving up on you and kicking you off the force is if you do not fight when the time comes. And, God forbid it for your sake, but if you ever hide when the time comes to fight I will kill you myself! Understand?
“YES SERGEANT!!”
“Now welcome to the greatest brotherhood on earth, for the time being anyway, as students. Now I want a show of hands of who wants to fight for the right to ride along with us this week, starting today!”
All of the Student Constables put up their hands.
“Good. That’s what we like to see, a fighting spirit.”
The Section Four doors of the Gym opened and General Arosi walked in, followed by Tony.
“Aandag!! (Attention), Officer on Parade!!” boomed Shaka.
The parade of Student Police Officers stood to attention as one and saluted the General.
“Thank you gentlemen, Mike how are you? I just popped in to look at the new sharks and to wish you well for the week ahead. I am off to Pretoria now for that meeting we were discussing, Daniel, Nickolai.” The General greeted the men.
“May I say a few words Mike, to the students?”
“Of course General, go ahead.”
“Welcome to the brotherhood gentlemen, the greatest organisation in the world, I am your overall provincial commander and I give you my word that I will always have your back and I will always go far beyond the call of duty to protect you. Now leave all other prejudices at the door and listen to what Sergeant Night and his men have to teach you. It will keep your heart beating and your lungs breathing. I am not sure how far along Sergeant Night is with his rules but let me say this; If you do not fight when the time comes you will be disowned by the force, thrown out without honour. And if you ever hide during battle I give permission to Constable Shaka here to break your back and to crush your skull, I am glad you understand. Now I have all your files on my desk and if there are any complaints or indeed compliments follow the chain of command. Good luck.”
Night in London Page 14