On a lighter note.
During a moonlit night, late December 1901, somewhere on the empty plains near Standerton. A small commando under VC Herman slowly approaches a railway line. In the distance the black silhouette of a formidable blockhouse becomes visible. It is dead quiet.
VC Herman (whispers): Boet, Cobus, Jannie, William ons gaan die Blockhut skiet. Is jij klaar?
Boet: Ja Baas
Cobus: Mij pijp gaan nog aan.
Jannie: Wag ‘n bietje, mijn pony moet kak
William: I say, a bit of evening sport, sounds like a bag of fun.
VC Herman to Boet: Wat seg die halve Rooinek?
Boet: Hij gaan mee Baas.
A few moments later, the men are ready and line up for the frontal attack on the Blockhouse. VC Herman looks at William.
VC Herman to William: Seg Willy, wat is die stokke?
William: I’m Sorry?
Boet to William: Them sticks, what voor?
William: Oh, Good heavens….… these are golfclubs of course.
Boet reflects on this for a moment, then:
Boet to VC Herman: Slae stokkies…soort van Engels spelletjie, Baas
VC Herman frowns, rolls his eyes but decides to ignore the matter.
VC Herman, So, ok Manne…klaar?...
All the men nod in acknowledgement.
VC Herman: Ok Boers, STORM VIR DIE TRANSVAAL!
The men ram their spurs and the horses bolt forward towards the blockhouse.
They have galloped less than 50 meters when, suddenly:
Boet: Baas, stop, daar staan wat!
VC Herman: Boet, blij gaan met die banaan!
Boet: Nee, nee kiijk daar!
Now VC Herman sees it is well. He raises his hand, and the men reign in their horses, not 200 yards from the blockhouse. In front of them unfolds the following Panorama.
VC Herman (while peering through his battered field glasses): Merry Christmas toe nail? Merri is ‘n perd, nie?
Cobus gets his pijp out, flicks a vuurhoutjie: Dat zeg gelukkig Kersfees vir ons al.
The men look at Cobus, who is now sucking fire into his pipe. William breaks the silence.
William: If I may say, Sir, that’s damn sporty of the lads!
Cobus: Hij is reg, baas, die blockheads zijn baie vriendelik met ons
Boet: Ons kan dat nie skiet nie!
At that very moment, the crew exits the blockhouse. They line up in front of an officer and start singing a Christmas carol, the officer conducting with his swagger stick.
The commando stands quietly and listens to the sweet sounds of Christmas drifting through the silent night over the empty plains. VC Herman, now clearly overcome by emotions, takes a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabs his eyes. After a few moments…
VC Herman: Kom manne ons gaan, ons moet die Rooineks hulle kersfees laat vier.
But the men keep listening. Suddenly William slips from his saddle with a number 1 wood in the hand. The men watch when he places a ball on a little knoll.
VC Herman: Wat de fok gaan aan?
Before anyone can answer, William arches his club and swings hard. The wood connects perfectly and the ball arches towards the blockhouse. A few seconds later there is a dull sound and the conductor falls.
William: FORE!
The blockhouse crew scatters and a few seconds later a white flag is run up a pole.
Moral of the story: Shouldn’t trust a Rooinek at golf.