Crack in the Cedar: Volume 2

By Anthony S. Farah

Volume Two 19742003

The mind-blowing life story of Katie continues . . .

Still riveting, compelling, haunting, disturbing, and thrilling

Sometimes funny . . . yet extremely tragic . . .

The myriad of events concerning the life of Katie Farah, which stirred your heart in volume one, will unquestionably touch your soul in this final volume.

This amazing story of an ordinary Lebanese family, spanning eight decades, is, once again, nothing short of extraordinary as each unique chapter enfolds, leaving you totally awestruck as Katie continues to face the impediments in her life with shattering circumstances.

Why is it that a mother and a wife, who has survived so much painful ordeal, has to face, so much devastation . . . enough to crack ones inner being, which will torment her beyond the realms of her faith?

How is it possible that such a woman could have enough faith and strength to sustain a horrible jolt after heartbreak strikes not only once . . . but, viciously, twice?

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This story will shatter your senses like an untimely bolt of lightning.

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It is, once again, assured that you will not put down reading the final volume to this marvellous family saga until the very last page, and even then the sentiments will continue to linger after the book is closed . . .

Simply unforgettable, it will haunt you forever . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Jul 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483669120

Book preview

Contents

Disclaimer

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Introduction—2013

Chapter 1—1974

A Cedar Attacked—Continued

Chapter 2—1974 Rolls On

A Soul for a Friend

Chapter 3—1974 Onwards

Onward, Christian Soldiers

Chapter 4—1975

Climb Every Mountain

Chapter 5—1976

Children Learn What They Live

Chapter 6—The Years Roll On

Horses for Courses and a Mouse in the House

Chapter 7—1977

Closest to God

Chapter 8—1978

Return from the Garden of Eden

Chapter 9—1978 Onwards

Martyrdom Salvaged by Heroism

Chapter 10—1979

Staying on Track

Chapter 11—1979 Onwards

Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained

Chapter 12—1983

A Stairway to Heaven

Chapter 13—1983 Onwards

Truly in Love

Chapter 14—1984

Double Trouble or Double Fate?

Chapter 15—1985

Some Sort of Miracle

Chapter 16—1985-1986

The Choices That We Sometimes Have to Make

Chapter 17—1986 Onwards

Another Hurdle, Another Challenge

Chapter 18—1987 Onwards

Fiddler on the Roof

Chapter 19—1987-1988

If They Slap You, Give Them the Other Cheek

Chapter 20—1988

Something Good, Something Bad

Chapter 21—1989

Haunted by History, Strangely Repeating Itself

Chapter 22—1990

More Than Just a Miracle

Chapter 23—1990

And Then a Miracle—Needs Only Belief

Chapter 24—1991

The Cedar Creeks in a Storm

Chapter 25—1992

Harvesting the Good Crop

Chapter 26—1993

Beauty Is in the Eye of the Beholder

Chapter 27—1993

The Hills Are Alive Due to the Magnificent Touch of God

Chapter 28—1994

The New Dawn

Chapter 29—1994

A Heartbeat Missed Is a Heartbeat Gone

Chapter 30—July 1995

Ile aux Cerfs – Paradise Island

Chapter 31—July 1995

The Painful Price of Joy

Chapter 32—July 1995

Crack in the Cedar

Chapter 33—1995

The Shattering Mask of Death

Chapter 34—1996

A Choice to Make

Chapter 35—1997

Looking Down the Barrel of a Loaded Gun

Chapter 36—1997

Let God Be the Judge of Them

Chapter 37—1999

Dark Days, Bright Nights

Chapter 38—2000

With God All Things Are Possible

Chapter 39—2001-2002

Shattered Earth, Shattered People, and Shattered Lives

Chapter 40—2003

A Tale Never Loses Its Telling

About the Author

In life we all have an unspeakable secret, an irreversible regret,

an unreachable dream, and an unforgettable love.

—Diego Machi

Disclaimer

This story is based on the true life of Katie Farah. Certain characters have, however, been fictionalised.

Although much of the dialogue is expressed in Lebanese (a dialect of Arabic) by several characters throughout the book, it has, however, been presented in English. The author has, nevertheless, managed to use a combination of both languages by including some popular Lebanese words, primarily to maintain its essence and authenticity.

Furthermore, much of the dialogue must be regarded as composite and representative, primarily to enhance great interest in the storyline. The characters and dialogue in this book may be slightly embellished; however, the facts that pertain to the entire storyline are entirely true.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my pillar of strength, my remarkable wife

Valerie Ann-Marie Farah

The mother of my four beautiful children,

Tarryn, Tyra, Mark-Anthony, and Martyn

True Love is not about materialistic provision and sex – it is about a dedicated commitment to one’s innermost feelings that is nurtured, harnessed, protected, and allowed to grow favourably, without obstacles and barriers.

True Love can be compared to a rollercoaster ride, filled with high adventure, excitement, anticipation, and a touch of trepidation, which always leaves that squirmy feeling in one’s belly. However, it is the kind of journey that never ends, even after one disembarks from the ride and has both feet on the ground… the memories and feelings will undoubtedly stay with you forever and ever.

—Anthony S. Farah

Acknowledgements

• First and foremost, God, my Father, and his beloved son, Jesus Christ. Thank you for this special gift given to me, especially to write this book. My guidance originated through dedicated prayer before writing each chapter. After the completion of my writings, I could not believe how some of the words came together, but then, given my faith and belief in God and his beloved Son, it was obviously sourced from a higher and spiritual authority.

• Our Lady Mary, the blessed virgin and the mother of Jesus Christ. Thank you for your prayers.

• My wife, Valerie Ann-Marie Farah, and my four children, Tarryn Valerie Farah, Tyra Elaine Farah, Mark-Anthony Assaf Farah, and Martyn Joseph Paul Aden Farah. Thank you for your repeated inspiration and complete belief in this project.

• Elaine Sarah Michelle Farah. Thank you for all your inspiration, commitment, input, and the many hours you dedicated for all of your determined assistance during the editing process, from the ‘alpha to the omega’.

• My nephews, Delon Anthony Assaf Farah, Dominic Joseph Farah, and Joseph Aden ‘Joey’ Farah. Thank you for your continued support and inspiration throughout the years.

• To my brothers and sisters (Rose, Michael, Hakla, Hisney, and Roman) and extended family. As individuals, you inspired the writing of some interesting characters. Don’t feel short-changed about my overall opinion about you all. After all the writing, on occasion, you led me to expand on your characters, purely just by my simplistic opinion.

• To Carol and Buddy Lahoud. Thank you for your profound guidance, throughout the years.

• Father Nadim Abou Zeid. Thank you for your constant inspiration.

• Father Maurice Chidiac. Thank you for your driving encouragement.

• Charles Whyte, my mentor. Thank you for your unbelievable aspiration towards the development of my writing skills, always rewarding my confidence levels.

• Bill Prout-Jones. Thank you for your astute direction and motivation, inspiring me to complete this wonderful true-life saga.

• Lumya and Ghalil Zackey and family. Thank you for your uncompromising commitment, which aspires positive attitudes.

• Patty, Alan, and Nicole Barbeau – true friendship always stands the test of time, stoutly, just like the unforgettable Cedars of Lebanon.

• Carol and Denis Mellors and family. Thank you for your kind gestures.

• Bianca Jaffer. Thank you for opening a small window, which led to bigger things.

• Gwen Laggar. Thank you for establishing my social platform and guiding me through my early years. The miles apart could never separate such a sound friendship.

• Claudia and Warwick Auby and family. Thank you for very special reasons.

• Debbie and Warren Zackey and family. Thank you for your passionate confidence in this book.

• Anna and Louis Valera and family. Thank you for your perfect timing and kind gesture and salvaging a promising situation.

• Chanel Habib (my beautiful niece) – For taking the photograph, for my book. You have an awe-inspiring talent, and may your creativity, go from strength to strength. Thank you.

• Yollanda de Carvalho. Thank you for your creative book-cover concept. Thank you so much for your assistance, time, and positive effort.

• Last and by no means the least, the entire team at Xlibris Publishing, Indiana, USA, especially, Jerry Yates and Shawn Henrie. Thank you for your constant liaison and an overall confidence in my novel. Furthermore, thanks to Kay Benavides and Simone Rodriguez for all your hard work.

God bless and thank you!

Introduction—2013

T he extraordinary life of Katie Farah resumes, through a myriad of events that will continue to stir your heart.

Having survived many traumatic obstacles through much of her life, she is unaware of the greater challenges that await her strong faith in the future. How can one person sustain so much unexpected tragedy?

This is the continuation of her extraordinary life story… simply unforgettable.

—Anthony S. Farah

Chapter 1—1974

A Cedar Attacked—Continued

A s Katie slumped back in her chair, into a state of unconsciousness, Martha jumped up and made for the door.

‘Dhagliek (please), Sadie, see to Katie. I’m going to get help,’ she cried.

‘Go quickly, Martha… I don’t know what to do,’ Sadie responded tearfully. ‘Katie, getup… Katie, get up, Sis… ,’ Sadie patted her sister gently on the cheek, trying to awaken her in her desperate state.

Martha found a male nurse walking down the passage. ‘Please help me. My sister has passed out in Dr Collough’s office,’ she cried as she pulled desperately at his arm, almost dragging him along with her.

‘What happened?’ he asked, surprised by suddenly being called, reacting to Martha’s desperate determination.

‘I don’t know. Sister O’Shea flew into Dr Collough’s office, and she did not say much, but the look on her face was enough to tell my sister and us that something serious has gone all wrong with my brother-in-law in the ICU…’

‘I’ll be back in a flash. I just need to get something,’ he said as he shook Martha’s grip off his wrist.

‘Please… I do not know how bad my sister is… please be quick,’ Martha cried.

‘You go along and get back to her, and I will be with you shortly,’ he said as he headed for a room with ‘Dispensary’ written on the door.

Martha took heed to his request and headed back to Dr Collough’s room. Katie still lay slumped in the state in which she had left her.

‘Ya whaylah (oh my gosh)! She will not come around,’ Sadie cried, relieved to see that her sister Martha had returned.

‘Sadie, quickly, pass, me that file on the desk,’ Martha said. Sadie was not in any mood for questions and passed her sister the file. Once Martha had a hold of it, she used it as a fan in an endeavour to awaken Katie.

‘Why did I not think of that?’ Sadie responded.

‘Sometimes, there is no time to think, Sis, but to act on impulse,’ Martha said as the male nurse entered the room. He was quick to the task as he unscrewed a bottle of smelling salts and placed it under Katie’s nose. As the putrid smell of the salt hit her senses, Katie jolted awake. Her tear-jerked eyes flashed open as the contents of the bottle did their little trick. On realisation of her awakening, she cried, ‘Assaf… what has happened to my husband?’

‘Katie, we are still waiting for Dr Collough. You took us by complete surprise when you passed out,’ Martha addressed.

‘We already have one casualty, and we surely do not need a second! You shook the wits out of me,’ Sadie acknowledged.

‘Sorry, Sis… but what is happening with Assaf?’ she asked tearfully.

‘Well, so far, no news is good news,’ Martha encouraged with a bit of positive jargon.

‘How are you feeling, ma’am?’ the male nurse asked.

‘Just a little light-headed… can you please go and find out what is happening with my husband in the ICU?’ Katie asked, her lips parched and showing signs of dehydration.

‘I will do just that and report back to you soon. I’ll get another nurse to bring you some water,’ he said politely.

‘Thank so much… sorry, I did not get your name in my haste…’

‘Joshua,’ he said flatly.

‘That’s a lovely biblical name,’ Martha added.

‘Thank you. What is the patient’s name?’ he asked.

‘Mr Farah,’ Martha responded as he left the room.

The three sisters were left to dwell in their thoughts as the clock ticked by laboriously. In the meantime, the rest of the family was getting impatient outside, braving the cold winter, not knowing what had transpired since their arrival.

‘Why are they taking so long?’ Joseph asked.

‘There could be a number of reasons, Joe. Maybe they are still waiting for the doctor, who could be busy with your old man, or possibly, he could be explaining everything to them,’ Shegedi said.

‘I cannot take this, Shed. I am going in to find out what is happening with my dad,’ Joseph said.

‘It is okay for you do that, but don’t let anyone know that you are going in,’ Shegedi mentioned.

‘I’ll tell them that I am going to the loo if they happen to ask,’ he said as he made his way into the hospital foyer. He walked down the first passage he could find, not actually knowing where he was going. He was not going to ask any questions to create any form of awareness, so he followed his nose. His curious eye picked up a nurse dashing down an adjoining passage. Her haste beckoned him to follow. As she turned another corner and darted through the double doors, Joseph knew that he was in the right place, for just above the door he could see the words ‘Intensive Care Unit’.

To the left of the doorway, signage read, ‘Restricted access and limited visitation’. His curiosity, as usual, got the better of him, forcing him to peek in. He could hear desperate commotion going on behind some screened-off area. The silhouettes of the medical team working on the patient spoke their own silent yet anxious language. As a nurse drew the screen to leave the section, Joseph caught a glimpse of his father, and what he saw sickened him. His father lay almost motionless with a thick pipe in his mouth and several wires and drips attached to his body. The tears wasted no time in performing their feelings of sorrow as the visual printed pictures in the memory bank of his brain. Suddenly, a hand touched him on the shoulder, and he jumped almost two feet off the ground.

‘Sorry, young man. You are not allowed to be here,’ Nurse Joshua said as he made his way into the ICU.

‘I was just looking for my dad,’ Joseph responded, still shocked that he was discovered.

‘Is it Mr Farah?’

‘Yes.’

‘Look, I am not to divulge any information as the doctor will do that…’

‘But just let me know if he is still alive.’

‘I can do that,’ he said as he made his way into the unit and then took an opening behind the curtain.

A short while later, Joshua returned and approached Joseph.

‘How is my old man?’

‘Still breathing…’

‘Thank God…’

‘Sorry, cannot tell your more, but he does look real bad… I have to get to your mom as she is waiting in Dr Collough’s room, but I suggest it is best for you to wait in the waiting room just down the corridor.’

‘Thanks, will do,’ Joseph said as he followed Joshua down the passage.

Thirty minutes later, Dr Collough walked into his office as Katie, Sadie, and Martha sat frozen in time. The beads of sweat were still largely prominent on his forehead. He looked ash-grey in the face, as though he had run a marathon. He sighed and then puffed slightly as he found the comfort of his leather chair.

‘What, Doc?’ Katie jumped the gun.

He took a deep breath, and as he released the carbon dioxide filled with tension, he said, ‘Your husband had another mild attack, and although we managed to stabilise him, I cannot believe that he survived it.’ The three sisters sat speechless.

Martha found some appropriate words, ‘Thank God,’ which boosted Katie.

‘Thank God he is still with us…’

‘He is a real toughie, which you can be grateful for…’

‘But, Doc, will he survive another attack?’

‘Mrs Farah, I do not want to even answer that. I cannot tell at this stage—’

Katie cut in, ‘Doc…’

Dr Collough stretched out his hand. ‘Hold on, Mrs Farah. Please let me finish, and you are welcome to ask any questions you have afterwards. I know how shocking this is for you, but only time and patience will give us the answers. Now, back to basics, due to the severity of the attack, I have had to sedate him completely as that is the only way he will get the rest that he needs. Furthermore, the sedation helps as we do not want him to stress over his condition, which could worsen matters for him. He is on the critical list for seventy-two hours, and as such, I must inform you that he will not be allowed any visitors, except for limited visits by you, his wife,’ he pointed at Katie and stretched back into his chair, allowing it to tilt back ever so slightly. He took a deep breath and then continued, ‘However, on the brighter side, I see from the records that your husband is still quite young, only um…’

‘Forty-five,’ Katie butted in surprisingly.

‘Thank you, yes, forty-five. As I said earlier, he also appears to be a strong-looking man, and for me, that may be his redeeming quality. I must tell you that very few patients have fortunately made it to the ICU after having had a coronary heart attack. But only time will tell. Any questions?’

‘Dr Collough, I have heard of a coronary heart attack. Is it the same as a coronary thrombosis attack? Can you please elaborate?’ Martha asked.

‘Yes, Mrs Toweel, coronary thrombosis can inevitably have disastrous results. When the minute blood vessels nourishing the heart are diseased, which is most often due to arteriosclerosis, these blood vessels will become very narrow, meaning that the heart muscle will be deprived of sufficient nourishment, and there will be symptoms of the heart weakening, accompanied by sudden, severe heart pain. If no measures are taken to reduce the strain on the heart, the demand on the sudden collapse of narrow blood vessels, a heart attack follows.’

‘Oh my goodness!’ Katie claimed.

‘High cholesterol, which is dangerous fatty deposits, can cause blockages to all of the important veins. I have done a cholesterol count, and those highs levels indicate major contributions to his problem. When your hubby arrived here, I asked what he was doing at the time that he had the pain. The Hage family told me that he was carrying a wardrobe. Coronary disease occurs most often in overweight persons and in those who overdo everything and are given too much worry and excitement.’

‘Except for being overweight, believe me, all of the others apply, but what are my brother-in-law’s chances, Doctor?’ Sadie intervened.

‘Sorry, madam, I never got your name earlier.’

‘Sadie Deib, but you can call me Sadie, Doctor.’

‘Sadie, as I said earlier, it is too soon to tell what his chances are. We have to get him out of the woods and into the sunshine before I can get positive about his situation, and that, my dear, I cannot tell you until the seventy-two-hour critical window has elapsed.’

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. ‘Please come in,’ Collough said. Father Clayton Jackson entered the room.

‘I’m terribly sorry to interrupt you, Doctor, but the family has requested me to call on Mr Farah.’

‘Oh, good. Do come inside and join us, Father.’ Collough stood up, showing his respect for the man of the cloth. ‘Collough is the name.’

‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance. The name is Clayton Jackson,’ he responded as he closed the door behind him, moved briskly into the room, and shook hands with the doctor. He then turned to the three women. ‘Hello, Mrs Farah, Mrs T, and Mrs Deib,’ he said as he shook each of their hands in greeting.

They all greeted the priest in perfect chorus, ‘Hello, Father Jackson.’

‘If you don’t mind, Doctor, I have come to pray for Mr Farah.’

‘Not at all, Father Clayton. Prayer will most certainly do him the world of good.’

‘Thank you so much for coming through, Father Jackson,’ Katie said.

‘It’s my pastoral duty, Katie,’ he said as he bent down and took her hand. ‘Now all I ask of you is that you put your faith in God. Dr Collough and his team will certainly do their very best, but prayer and faith are our strongest belief that your husband will, by the power of God the Almighty, get well.’

‘Father Clayton, as the family parish priest, maybe it’s best that you know exactly how critical Mr Farah’s condition is.’

‘Yes, Doctor, that will certainly help. Then we will know exactly how hard we ought to pray.’

Doctor Collough smiled at the comment and quickly filled Father Jackson in on the details.

‘Thank you, Dr Collough. Now may I go through and fulfil my priestly duties?’

‘With pleasure,’ the doctor said as he stood up to escort the priest to the ICU.

‘Father Jackson.’

‘Yes, Katie?’

‘You’ve heard how critical my husband’s condition is. Are you going to give him his last rites?’

‘Katie, you make it sound so final, my dear. Where is all the faith you have always boasted so much about?’

‘I have my faith, Father, but…’

‘Katie, let me simplify it for you. When I come to pray for your husband because he so ill, we call it the sacrament of the anointing of the sick. It should never be construed as what some refer to as a prayer for his so-called last rites. Yes, the prayer does, however, make provision for spiritual healing should your husband, God forbid, happen to die. The anointing is merely attributed to the spiritual healing, with the focus on forgiveness. Whatever the case, the prayer will protect and give him the opportunities either way. Now keep holding on to that faith. Come, Doctor, now, where is Mr Farah?’ he said as they both left the room.

The sudden privacy enabled the three sisters to express their deepest inner feelings. They had temporarily forgotten all about their so-called faith and cried bitterly, holding desperately on to each other for support. Even Sadie could not contain her emotions.

‘I want to see Assaf,’ Katie kept requesting repeatedly, but her sisters cautioned her.

‘Just wait, Katie. It’s too soon. I suggest that you just wait a while longer, to allow the doctors to deal with him first.’

Father Jackson returned ten minutes later to find the three sisters still sitting in the doctor’s room.

‘Come on, you three. Let’s get the whole family together. There is nothing for us to do here. The medical staff is doing what they know best. I am going to open the church for us to offer a special mass for Mr Farah. Get on the phone and ask as many of your family and friends to meet us at the church.’

Martha got up first and pulled Father Jackson aside. ‘How did you find him to be, Father?’

‘Mrs T, to be quite honest, if you want my opinion as a man, he does not look good at all, but as a priest, I have to pursue a channel of faith and hope. It is certainly going to take a miracle for him to pull through this obstacle in his life.’

‘What about Katie, Father? She is adamant about seeing her husband.’

‘I don’t think that it will be a good thing. He looks quite bad in his sedated state, and all those machines, pipes, and drips attached to him make things appear a lot worse. You just leave Katie up to me, and I’ll try to convince her otherwise. That is, at least until we get back from the proposed mass.’

‘Thank you, Father. I think that would be best for her at this stage.’

Father Jackson wasted no time in convincing Katie to abide by his suggestion. She obediently accepted his recommendation. As they walked out of the hospital, they could not believe their eyes as to how many people had thronged the car park.

Deib was the closest to the door and grabbed hold of Sadie. ‘How is my friend?’ he asked concernedly.

‘Assaf is not well, Deib. He has had a coronary thrombosis attack, and his condition is critical,’ she sobbed.

‘Is he alive?’

‘Yes, Deib, he is alive but, hardly!’

‘Don’t lie to me, Sadie. You are as hard as nails. You never cry, and you are crying now. Is my friend alive?’ Everyone suddenly turned their attention to Deib and Sadie. The children started wailing.

‘I won’t lie to you, Deib. Now look what you have done by doubting me – stirring the hearts of these poor kids. Don’t worry, kids, your baya (daddy) is doing okay,’ Sadie said, trying to pacify them.

‘God cannot take him. He cannot take my best friend,’ he began to sob. ‘He has small children. They are still babies. No, no, no. God cannot take this man.’

‘Deib, please don’t say things like that. You of all good people know quite well that we never question God.’

‘I am not questioning him. I am just asking him to not take my friend,’ he said as the tears ran down his cheeks.

‘Please, Deib, calm down,’ Sadie asked patiently.

‘These children still need their father, Sadie. How will they live?’

‘God’s good, Deib. He will never let them down.’

Unexpectedly, Deib then stretched his arms outwardly to the heavens and cried, ‘God, if you want to take someone, then you had better take me instead, but please spare my friend’s life for the sake of his family. Please, God, take me rather.’ He sobbed profusely.

Father Jackson rightfully intervened. ‘Mr Deib, we understand that you are hurting, but please do not speak like that. Come with us, my friend,’ he said, holding the big man under the arm as if steering him away from the hospital. ‘Let’s go to the church and rather offer our request to God in prayer so that Mr Farah can be healed. Let’s rather do that than make deals with our creator. Come along. You will be amazed at how much prayer can do for us mortals.’

Deib had had his personal tantrum and, without further intervention, subsided into a comatose silence. A short announcement made by Father Jackson had everyone scrimmaging hastily into their motorcars. Thirty minutes later, ardent prayer-givers filled the Turffontein Church to its capacity.

Katie returned to the hospital. To the surprise of all, she fell to her knees at the entrance to the foyer and then stretched her arms to the heavens, asking God to save her husband for the sake of her children. Although some tried to help her up, she refused as she wanted to express her heartfelt pain to her God. She then stood up and walked to the ICU to see Assaf. She was shocked at his condition. As promised, her visit was short.

Before she left, Dr Collough reported, ‘Mrs Farah, there has been no change, but we have stabilised him. Only time will tell. The bottom line, however, is that he is still alive. Goodnight. May God be with you.’

By the time the family returned home, Hisney’s birthday lunch had almost withered into a dog’s breakfast. The children ate whilst Katie made herself a cup of tea and only consumed a dry slice of white bread. She did not sleep that night, fearing any phone call might come her way.

The following morning, Shegedi was up early and waiting to take Katie to the hospital. Before Katie could visit Assaf, the sister in charge of the ICU instructed her that Dr Collough needed to see her first. ‘Is my husband okay?’ she asked, fearing the worst.

‘He is still stable,’ the sister confirmed.

‘Thank God,’ she said and made a swift sign of the cross as she went on towards Dr Collough’s consulting room.

As Katie entered, Dr Collough said, ‘Good morning, Mrs Farah,’ almost cheerfully.

‘Good morning, Dr Collough. How is my husband doing?’

‘To be quite frank, he is not out of the woods yet, but his stability is promising. What I am trying to say is that he has not gone backwards.’

‘That’s good news. Thank you very much.’

‘I must say that you Lebanese people have a very strong faith, Mrs Farah, and for me, that is fabulous. All of the test results, sonars, ECGs, and X-rays, taken on your husband are absolutely mind-boggling and clearly indicative that he should never have survived, especially after what had happened to him. There is definitely a lot of fight left in that man of yours.’ Katie smiled at the comment passed. ‘Now that’s a first. It’s good to see you smiling for a change, Mrs Farah. By the way, the sedatives have certainly helped to keep him rested and unfocussed on serious problems and worries he might have sustained over the past few years. I’m starting to believe strongly that your kind of faith not only moves mountains but makes us doctors look very good, especially at what we do as professionals,’ Collough smiled back.

‘Doctor, Assaf has had a lot of…’ Katie told him much of what he had gone through over the past few years. ‘But I think that the incident concerning the death of the little black girl was what must have hurt him the most.’

Dr Collough started to put the pieces together slowly but surely, giving sound explanation as to why a man at such a tender age had adopted such a life-threatening fate.

Three days later, they slowly weaned Assaf off the sedation as his vital signs had improved, much to Dr Collough’s surprise. ‘Miracles never cease.’

Dr Collough discharged Assaf three weeks later and confined him to stringent bed rest. He was also cautioned not to drive or do anything over the top.

The saddest part about the incident was that Hisney would possibly never forget her thirteenth birthday, a number which some consider as being ‘bad luck’. However, this time around, number thirteen was regarded as ‘lucky for some’, especially by the Farah family.

Assaf, however, believed that God had given him a second chance to prove his worth and make up for some of his former mistakes. Actually, no one can question why these things do happen in our lives.

On the other hand, the second chance may not have been solely for Assaf but for all of those people around him. Maybe, in time, they would all get to understand why God sometimes does these things to us.

Assaf would, after all is said and done, possibly be truly appreciated sometime in the future.

Chapter 2—1974 Rolls On

A Soul for a Friend

T he weather report for 3 July 1974 revealed a morning of low temperature at minus two degrees. Anthony jumped out of bed as the clock alarm rang persistently at four o’clock in the morning. He had to resort to technology as he could not rely on the cock, which usually crowed around about five o’clock every morning. It was, however, the first of many early wake-up calls, which he had to start getting used to, particularly over the next year.

It happened to be the first day of his one-year stint of military training. His cousin, Michael Toweel, offered to take Anthony to Milner Park, from where he would be transported by military vehicle to Lenasia Military Base Camp – Maintenance Unit, approximately thirty kilometres south west of Johannesburg.

Everyone in the house woke up early that day to see Anthony off to the army. Katie would go with Michael for the drive. Assaf, although awakened, remained in bed. After a cup of tea and toast with some liver spread, Anthony walked into his father’s bedroom to bid him farewell.

‘Goodbye, Baya.’

Assaf choked up as Anthony bent over to kiss and hug his father during the parting. ‘Take care of yourself, Anthony. Ya ibna (my son), do not do anything stupid. You do not have to be a hero. Just come back safely. Goodbye. Allah-yird-a-lak, ya-Ibna (God bless you, my son),’ Assaf said tearfully.

Anthony did not want to upset his father, so he said another quick goodbye, pulled back, and left the room. He would shed his tears in private, especially so his father could not see them. The rest of the family said their goodbyes in the lounge. They all sobbed after hugging Anthony farewell. It was as if he was going away for good.

Michael Toweel arrived promptly as promised and did not hold back on teasing Anthony with jargon and the preferential language used in the military. ‘Kom nou, roofie, maak gou . . . links, yaks, links, yaks (come now, rookie, hurry up… left, right, left, right),’ he joked, expressing himself earnestly in a deep, gruff voice. He popped in to greet his uncle and joked assuredly, ‘Now don’t you go stressing yourself, Uncle Assaf. You know that the Farahs can take the punch. After all they have got that Toweel bloodline. He’ll be just fine.’

‘I know, Michael. I have good, responsible children.’

‘So what’s the problem? You know that the doctors have warned you to keep calm, Uncle Assaf. Now just you keep following their instructions, and you’ll be 100 per cent healthy. We had better get going. See you later, and tell the girls to have that cuppa waiting for me when I bring Auntie Katie home just now.’

‘Thank you, Michael. God bless you.’

‘Stay sharp,’ Michael said, showing his uncle a thumbs-up sign as he walked out of the room.

Katie kissed Anthony all over his face and blessed his forehead several times as she said her final goodbye. Anthony kept pulling back, feeling quite embarrassed by what she was doing to him in front of hundreds of rookie troops. Michael shook hands and gave him a big, manly hug as they parted. Anthony climbed into the Bedford truck, which pulled off shortly. He could see his mother and Michael disappearing as the distance grew between them. He looked around at the other youngsters and thought, Well, I have one year in which to do this, so I had better make the best of it.

Suddenly, a chap from the front end of the truck called out, ‘Hey, Froggie Farah,’ interrupting his thoughts.

Anthony knew the voice but did not recognise the person until he had a closer look. It was Tommy Spence, one of his best mates from school. ‘Come and sit here with me. This chap will change places with you.’ Anthony jumped at the offer.

‘Howzit, Tommy? Didn’t expect to find you in the same wagon,’ he said as they shook hands.

‘Howzit, Froggie? Good to see you, china,’ Tommy said gleefully. He had the broadest of smiles and the heartiest of laughs; whenever he laughed, he would display a full mouth of his perfect pearly whites.

‘Tom, please can we cut that Froggie Farah crap? We are out of school, and nicknames are a bit embarrassing. I really don’t need for such a title to become familiar in the army. You know what the bhamagto (Dutchmen) are like. Please, Tommy.’

‘Sure, my bud, whatever you say. Hey, do you know that there are about eight Forestonians (scholars that attended Forest High School) going to Lenz Camp with us? I think four of them are from our matric class. Forgive me, but I can’t remember the names. I think that Stanley Webster is one of them.’

‘Wow, that’s great news. I’m already starting to feel better, now that I am not alone.’

‘How have you been doing, my Lebanese friend? You have certainly grown and gotten bigger since we last parted.’

‘Let’s say that I matured late. I’ve been fine… hey, Tom, what’s up with the long hair?’

‘My dream for life… always wanted to grow the hair, you know!’

‘But they’re gonna chop it. Believe me, when that barber sees you, if they can call them a barber in the army, he ain’t gonna give you a nice-looking crew cut, Tom. They say that the oaks (guys) with long hair get it all shaved off.’

‘That’s okay, china. They own me for one year. That’s their chop (cut). I am contracted to the South African Government for twelve months. It makes no difference. Well, what do you have to say about that, old chum?’

‘That’s a good attitude you have there, Tommy.’

‘You see, I have always got the answers. Hey, talking about answers, is it true? I heard some guys talking the other day about your old man. Is it true that he almost kicked the bucket… I heard that he had a heart attack or something like that and that he is lucky to be alive, huh?’

Anthony’s face dropped at the mention of the incident. ‘Yeah, Tom, it was horrible, but he’s doing fine now.’

‘Yes, it came as a shock to me because he is a strong chap, your old man. I remember how he used to pick up that solid, one-square-inch metal bar from the ground. Those steel bars that you guys used to bar your front and back doors with, you know, like Fort Knox,’ he laughed wildly. The other troops in the truck looked at him curiously.

‘Tom, you remembered that, hey?’ Anthony cut in.

‘Yeah, man. It was like yesterday, china. Everybody thought it was a piece of cake to pick up those bars, especially when they had to try to keep it level with the ground. Whenever someone tried, your old man always had the last laugh.’

‘Yeah, Tom, those were the days…’

‘I even remember when he used to pick up that wooden kitchen chair with two fingers… how did he do that, hey? That was awesome.’

‘Tommy, you saw him do that about three years ago, and you have not forgotten a thing?’

‘How could one forget something so amazing? I’ll tell you one thing, Froggie—’ he cut himself short. ‘Sorry about that, my china. I mean, Anthony… you were one chap who could honestly go around and boast that your father was stronger than most other dads.’

‘That may be true, but for what purpose? Those silly arguments always created animosity amongst us youngsters. It was always so unnecessary.’

They reminisced about their school days as the truck rolled on to its destination. After about an hour’s drive, they eventually arrived at Lenz Military Base Camp, and as they pulled into the heavily guarded gate, the stringent discipline could not escape their quick eye. It felt as if the military had even owned the air which they breathed.

There was no turning back even though their contribution to flag and country was compulsory. The six weeks of basic training started for them there and then. There would be sweat, tears, and more sweat and tears that would mould them into young men for the future, who would be appropriately equipped to defend themselves in a time of war. The classmates got together and kept close to each other. They divided the boys into groups and sent them on to their bungalows. Anthony and four of his school friends landed up in bungalow ‘Echo’.

Back in the land of ‘civvies’, ‘civilisation’ as appropriately called by the troops, things were very different. On the first Saturday of every month of July, the prestigious Rothmans July Handicap was run at the Greyville Racecourse in Durban’s Natal Province. It was the one handicap that gripped the nation, and even the non-gambler had a punt on the renowned race.

That Saturday, Deib backed one of the biggest outsiders in the race.

‘Whatever possessed you to think that Riboville could win this July, Dad?’ Theresa laughed. Shegedi was even more critical about his father’s choice of a ‘July winner’. Joseph, on the other hand, in his silent wisdom, thought it best to reserve his comment. Sadie felt that she was the best July Handicap tipster and told her husband quite candidly, ‘Your donkey does not have a chance.’

At 3.33 p.m. Deib proved them all wrong as Riboville romped home to win the 1974 July Handicap, at the ludicrous odds of sixty-six to one by beating home one of the more fancied runners, basically a punter’s nightmare result and a bookmaker’s dream win.

Deib laughed all the way to the bank, for he had secretly punted a small fortune on the so-called donkey. Suddenly, Deib was all the rage as each family member asked him for a ‘cut of his winnings’.

‘How much did you put on Ribbo… whatever his name is… the horse?’ Sadie asked.

‘Only thirty rand.’ He smiled gleefully, knowing what a vulture his wife could be when it came to his money.

‘Was that all that you put on the horse, Deib? I don’t believe you. You have been bragging about this horse for two months. Please tell me that you put more than thirty rand on it.’

He smiled back at her. ‘I could have put more, but you always take my money from me, leaving me with but a few rand in my pocket. You just tell me, how could I have possibly put more to win on the horse?’

‘I don’t believe you, Deib. That smile, I know it well. You’re hiding something,’ she said and slapped him on his shoulder as she usually did whenever she could not get anything out of him, especially when it came to money matters.

He smiled almost mockingly at her and said, ‘Thanks for the crack, and you can think what you like, but whatever it is this time, the money’s all mine to keep. When I cash my ticket on Monday at the Tattersall’s, I’m going to give it to Theresa to keep, and whenever I want a little bit of my money . . .’ He emphasised on the word money. ‘Then at least she will give me what is rightfully mine.’

‘You can stick your bloody money where it fits best. Who wants your money?’ Sadie hit back.

At eleven o’clock on Monday morning, Deib called at Johannesburg Bookmakers Tattersall’s on Loveday Street to collect his winnings. He returned to the house and had something to eat.

‘I’m off to Theresa,’ he said to Sadie.

‘Did you collect your winnings, Deib?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Where’s my cut?’

Deib dug into his pocket and pulled out about 800 rand. He peeled off 200 rands’ worth. ‘It’s no use for us, always fighting over my money, as you seem to get it anyway, so I’ll keep this, and you can take that,’ he said as he passed Sadie the balance of 600 rand. She grabbed it and then hugged and kissed him all over.

‘I thought as much. You did punt a lot more on the horse. I love you, I love you,’ she said almost childishly.

After he managed to get out of her grip, he said, ‘It’s the money you love most.’ He chuckled, ‘Your father certainly gave you the right name… Sadie Money Farah. My late father-in-law was a very clever man. He must have known something.’

Sadie counted the money, took 500 rand worth of it, and handed it back to her husband. ‘Here, Deib, can you please give this money to Theresa?’

He took the money, and as he walked out of the kitchen, he said, ‘Generous, huh? What’s gotten into you? I don’t believe that you eventually broke down.’

Sadie laughed, ‘I am not as bad as you think. I do have a good heart, you know.’

‘I know. I was only joking,’ he said as he moved on.

‘I love you, my darling,’ Sadie said in closing.

Deib climbed into the truck and took a deep breath. He was quite exhausted, so he put his head down on the steering wheel as he usually did. ‘Just a few minutes,’ he whispered to himself and took a nap.

About forty minutes later, Sadie looked out of her bedroom window and was surprised to see the truck still parked outside. She opened the front door and walked towards the truck. Deib was still sleeping on the steering wheel. She rapped on the door of the truck.

‘Deib… Deib, why are you sleeping in the truck? Deib, wake up. Why have you not left for Theresa’s?’ There was no response to her persistent calls. Rose heard her mother-in-law’s calling and joined her.

‘What’s wrong, Mart-Uma (Mother-in-law)?’

‘Your father-in-law is sound asleep… he just won’t get up.’

Rose walked around the truck and climbed into the passenger side. She gently shook Deib on the shoulder. ‘Dad… Dad… Dad…’ but there was no response. As she shrugged him a little harder, his body tilted over and rested against the closed door on his side of the truck. As his head fell backwards, she noticed a kind of white foam around his mouth. His glassy eyes stared right back at her, bulging and opened wide.

Rose’s horrific shriek explained it all. Sadie dashed around to the other side of the truck and almost pulled Rose out of the co-driver’s seat to make way for her to climb in. No one knows from where she had gotten the energy to climb into the truck. She had one look at Deib, and what she saw, she did not like, and screamed aloud. ‘Get up! Get up!’ she yelled as she slapped him wildly across the face in her frenzy, hoping to revive him with some sort of force but to no avail.

Sadie held on to him tightly and hollered, ‘No… no… no,’ before she collapsed in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Deib was dead.

Rose, now feeling all alone, had to deal with the situation. She dashed into the house and phoned Theresa. Rose was in total denial and did not give her sister-in-law any details. ‘Theresa, can you please get to your mom’s house quickly? Something’s terribly wrong with your father,’ were the only words that could come to mind at that stage.

Dr Richard Zock was called to verify Deib’s death. It was later confirmed that he had died from a massive heart attack. The coroner arrived, removed the contents of his pockets, and handed everything to Theresa.

She stared blankly at his brown leather wallet, 200 rand worth of notes, and a cheque in her hand. She unfolded the cheque. Bookmakers Sepal and Kaplan had signed a certified cheque for 32,850 rand. Deib had actually punted a cool 525 rand on the outsider, Riboville.

Deib’s cry to God after one month and six days had come to fruition. ‘God, if you want to take someone, then you had better take me instead, but please spare my friend’s life for the sake of his family. Please, God.’ The gates of heaven were open on that day in June when a mightier power had most certainly acknowledged his cry.

Deib had made a deal with his creator and had exchanged his life for that of a friend’s.

An hour later, the Deib household was filled with sympathisers. A family legend, gone forever.

Chapter 3—1974 Onwards

Onward, Christian Soldiers

B asic training for Anthony was much more strenuous than he had anticipated, but he coped well. The dead of winter made things worse, especially when roll calls happened at three o’clock in the morning. Some troops were caught red-handed, having to parade in their jocks. Michael Toweel had coached Anthony quite well and, thus, was always prepared for any surprises that the officers had installed for them.

Weekends were spent lazily, where washing and ironing of uniforms became an area of concern for most troops. Anthony’s good laundry and ironing skills thanks to Katie’s teachings netted him a good amount of extra cash each week as he became the known Laundromat in the camp, by only taking on what laundry he could handle. It also helped to pass the time.

Anthony wrote letters to all of his family. Every one of Katie’s sisters was privileged to get a letter drafted at least once a week. Getting mail and packages of goodies from home was always a highlight for the troops in the camp. Anthony received lots of letters with money enclosed but no packages. ‘Lebanese people don’t know about such things,’ he said to Tommy Spence one day when he was asked about it.

Anthony was entitled to another perquisite in that the head chef in the mess was a Lebanese chap named Gerald Karam. There is generally a strong brotherhood amongst Lebanese, especially in a foreign environment, so it did not take much for Anthony to befriend Gerald. Anthony’s schoolmates also enjoyed these preferences to stand with him, always being first in the mess queue. The other perquisite was that none of them would ever be selected to do the dishing up, which everyone hated to do.

Almost four weeks later, Lieutenant Raath summoned Anthony to his office. He had visitors, and although he was not allowed to see them, they were still prepared to grant him such permission. Two non-commissioned officers escorted Anthony to the visiting area, which was situated just beyond the main front gate. As they got closer, Anthony could see his mother and Auntie Minnie waiting for him at the gate, both attired in black from head to toe.

He hesitated and almost stopped. The two officers were surprised by his sudden withdrawal. He did not like what he was seeing, for he knew exactly what the dress code meant. Abba (Father), he thought. Oh my God, it’s Abba. His legs suddenly felt like they were turning to jelly.

His thoughts were somewhat interrupted. ‘Wat is die probleem, troop (what is the problem soldier)?’ Corporal Eksteen asked.

Anthony could not speak, braced himself, and bit on to his bottom lip. Eksteen could read into his concerned expression and relaxed his efforts to question him further. The little adrenalin that Anthony maintained helped him carry himself to the gate. After he had passed the security barrier, the two officers pulled back and waited for him.

Katie rushed up to Anthony. ‘Look at you…’ she cried. ‘You look so handsome and strong in those army cloths. What a zhulma (man) you have become!’ she said as she hugged and kissed him, with tears in her eyes.

‘Please, Uhma, not in front of them. They’re watching me,’ he said, feeling a tinge of embarrassment.

‘I don’t care. You are my son, and I have missed you. Never mind them.’

‘Hello, my handsome godson. My goodness, you are sunburnt enough for reclassification of race,’ Minnie added and kissed him on both cheeks.

‘Hello, Auntie Minnie.’

‘We have a surprise for you, Anthony,’ Katie said quickly as she knew they had permission but limited time.

‘What surprise, Uhma, and why are you both dressed in black?’

‘Come with us. We’ll explain everything to you,’ Minnie said as she grabbed his hand and almost dragged him along.

As they turned the corner of the building they had just passed, the Kombi came into vision, and sitting behind the steering wheel, he could see the frame of a man he could only identify as his father. His heart jumped a beat. ‘Thank God,’ he said silently.

Assaf cried as he greeted his son.

‘You look so good, Anthony.’ Although Assaf never expressed his passion, this time around, he showed Anthony another side of his character. As big and strong as he always made himself out to be, there was certainly an escape route for his father’s emotions. Anthony felt comfortable with his father, or was it because he too was becoming a man and his childhood discretions were fading fast?

‘Thanks, Baya. It’s the sun tan that makes me look so sharp,’ he added joyfully. Then his expression changed. ‘What’s with the black clothes?’ he asked.

Katie looked at Minnie, giving her the prompt to speak.

‘I’m sorry, Anthony, but we do have some very sad news. Uncle Deib passed away.’ She was brief and to the point.

It was the only kind of bad news which would have any man, or one who was becoming a man, break down and cry. For Anthony, the initial build up, from when he earlier approached the gate and found Katie and Minnie dressed in the colour of mourning, took its eventual toll and climaxed, and he sobbed uncontrollably.

They joined their son in his emotional state, and after they had all settled down, Minnie told Anthony how it had all happened.

‘I cannot believe that Uncle Deib asked God to take his life so that my father could be spared. He was such an amazing human being… such an unselfish man… he was always the hero in our family… how many times did he save us from so much!’ He sobbed again and continued, ‘What will we do without him? Oh! I am gonna miss him so much…’ and as Anthony shared his own inner feelings, they cried more and more, almost reliving the moment of the day that Deib had died.

They also told Anthony that they had to hold back the news from Assaf for about a week by building a false story, a ‘white lie’, saying that Deib was first hospitalised but that his condition deteriorated, leading up to his eventual death. It was a passive way of breaking bad news to a man who had nearly lost his life a few weeks before that dreadful day.

Corporal Eksteen knocked on the window and indicated that time was up by pointing to his watch.

‘Uhma and Baya, please do not forget about coming to my passing-out parade the Saturday after next. That’s in twelve days’ time. Baya, please come. You must also bring the whole family as everyone is welcome. Auntie Minnie, you can come too,’ he said as he stepped out of the Kombi.

‘We certainly will,’ she replied.

For the first time, Katie could not get to kiss her son goodbye as Corporal Eksteen soon had him on marching orders back into the camp behind the barbed wire fence.

They parted, leaving Anthony his personal time to drown in his own sorrows.

Two days later, at field manoeuvres, whilst practising the ‘dive for cover routine’, in the process, Anthony injured himself quite badly. It so happened that on instruction, whenever Corporal Eksteen blew on his whistle, the troops would have to dive for cover; however, one chap misjudged Anthony’s direction of fall and dived directly on top of him. On impact, Anthony’s left leg twisted badly at the knee, resulting in his foot facing backwards. The pain was unbearable until Eksteen radioed in the medics to take him to the unit’s military hospital.

The doctor on duty worked fast, and after giving Anthony an injection, he simply pulled on the leg and twisted it back into position, just like ‘snap, crackle, and pop’. Anthony returned to his bungalow and did not sleep that night. By the next morning, his knee had swelled up considerably. The swelling stuck around for two more days. Anthony was labelled as a casavac (casualty). On the third day, Sergeant Duvenhage sent Anthony back to the hospital for a check-up.

‘Doctor, our passing-out parade is in a week’s time, and I need to be in it.’

‘But, Private Farah, you are asking for the impossible. The swelling has reduced considerably, but I would not want you to put any pressure on the leg for at least the next ten days.’

‘Doc, you don’t understand, my dad, mom, and my whole family will be coming through, and I do not want to be sitting on a stand with the rest of the casavacs (sickly).’

‘Private, I am sorry. I cannot see it happening unless you improve dramatically.’

Anthony returned to his platoon that was practising vigorously for the big day. He limped up to Sergeant Duvenhage, stretched in salutation, and asked, ‘Sarge, I have just come from the hospital, and the doctor says that it will take about ten days before I can march again.’

‘Yes, Private, so what’s the point?’

‘The point I am trying to make is that if by the Thursday before the step-out parade, I’m sure that I will feel fine to march with my platoon, will you, please, let me do it?’

‘Private, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but you have lost a lot of ground on practice, and you could spoil it for your platoon.’

‘Please, Sarge, I know all the moves and will continue to watch the practices. If I get back into it, I will catch up. I promise. My dad has to see me out there on the parade field and not sitting over there,’ he said, pointing to the casavac stand.

‘Okay, you have convinced me enough, but I will only do it if I get a doctor’s note stating that you are fit and ready to do it by Thursday morning.’

‘Thank you, Sergeant Duvenhage. I won’t let you or my platoon down.’

Duvenhage smiled broadly. ‘Now get along to the casavac stand and start concentrating on the practice before I change my mind.’

Every three hours, Anthony massaged his knee with ‘deep heat’ and did some soft exercises to help bring his knee along, some of the tricks he had learnt from Uncle Willie Toweel at the gym. He did his own physiotherapy, using hot and cold treatment in the process. The swelling disappeared, which enabled him to extend the exercises as he was determined to be in the squad on that big day.

His perseverance earned him the certificate Duvenhage demanded, which gained him a place in the squad on the big day. He marched to precision and kept abreast with all the manoeuvres. He had impressed his family, but no one was more impressed with him than Corporal Eksteen and Sergeant Duvenhage.

After the parade, they held a typical South African braai (barbecue) for the troops and their families. They were also given the permission to buy one beer from the bar, as they were no longer considered, as roofies (rookies). They had earned the respect of the South African Army.

‘Private Farah, I will take you with me to war on any day. You did yourself proud out there today,’ Sergeant Duvenhage told Anthony much later that night at the bungalow. He appeared to be a little under the weather. Maybe he had one beer too many, Anthony thought as he climbed into bed. He had accomplished a personal goal, and that night, he slept like a baby. Even the constant horns from the numerous trains that passed on the doorstep of the Lenz Base Camp could not wake him.

The weather had warmed considerably since the first day they stepped into the Lenz Base Camp; however, the August winds were doing what they did best.

After completing courses in Stores and Rations and achieving the top mark of his class, for both, Captain Redknap offered Anthony his corporal stripes. Anthony thanked the captain but declined the promotion as he felt that it would hinder the camps he would have to do every year after his one-year stint.

Because of Auntie Minnie’s intervention, Anthony was given permission to have a pass every weekend. The reason given was primarily concerning Assaf’s heart condition. The one amazing statistic was that Anthony never ‘pushed beat’ (stood guard duty) at Lenz Ammunition Dump. He must have been the only soldier in the history of Lenz camp to have completely ‘missed out on that beat’.

A few weeks later, Anthony was given the option to transfer to Voortrekkerhoogte, where he would do a course in 101 Air Supply and be partially based at Waterkloof Air Force Base for the duration of his military training. The offer interested him, and ten others were transferred to their new base camp near Pretoria. The nice thing about it was that, although they were registered as army troops, they enjoyed the part about being considered as South African Air Force. Anthony retained his weekend pass every week on transfer to his new camp.

Sergeant Major Barkhuizen ran the 101 Air Supply course over a period of four weeks. He was a tiny man, almost a jockey in size, deeply tanned, and carried a pair of lungs big enough for ten men. When he yelled, the earth shook and so did those troops who were, unfortunately, close enough to his big jaw. The course provided for all types of training and a considerable amount of theory, which had to be studied to perfection.

Training was implemented using the Hercules, C130, and C160 airplanes, from which the airdrops were carried out. These planes were specially designed for that purpose as the tails could be opened, allowing for aerial drops to troops on the ground, supplying food, clothing, ammunition, and even vehicles over designated drop zones in war-stricken zones, north of Africa, especially on