CHAPTER 2
“ PSYCHOPATH, PATH OF HELL”
1)Invented Persona Manipulate Others 2)Highly Unreliable/Broken Promises 3)Idealisation Following Cold Rejection 4)Obsessed Hobby/Cause/Individual then Loses Interest Instantly 5)Phony Altruism 6)Nothing Real Behind Persona 7)Sudden Goodbye
We were profoundly sad when the news came that my father died.
The fact that he committed suicide was heart-wrenching; riveting; disturbing; I couldn’t put it down, what affected him so severely.
Dad had real talent and a story to tell if he had lived!
I was quite touched by his plight, no tales so extreme and sad. Can’t believe the way his mind has treated him, terribly unkind, mocked and insulted. Been to hell and back and not lived to tell the incredible. It is hard to imagine the troubles he had seen and experienced, very honest, very graphic, very tragic. It saddens me, but I tried to understand the hectic incident. Sordid; point-blank; oppressive; a banned book; so many gems in the story.
I was insecure for not hearing from him why he took his own life.
My father made two attempts on his life, the second one “successful”. The first attempt was in a hotel in Saint James near Kalk Bay.
He made deep incisions into his forearm and groin to find a vein into which to inject potassium chloride solution which would arrest the heart muscle.
The second attempt, two weeks later, was successful.
He was found dead in a hotel in Cape Town CBD with a black bag over his head, filled with anaesthetic ether, and he overdosed with Valium tranquillisers.
He wrote two suicide notes to my mother. Here they are:
Fish Hoek
3/4/1980
My darling,
It won’t be long now.
My diagnosis is related to diabetes. Thank you for your continual support. I can only see myself rapidly deteriorating, with total amnesia spells. Instead, remember me the way I was. Words cannot express the way I feel about going. I regard it for so many reasons as the correct thing to do. You have been the most courteous person that I have known. I could not help myself, and neither could anyone else. My heart is so full of emotion now that I must go! You and the children see it through (and so you shall, as you are powerful) and the intention that you will understand what I have learned from people at the top (which disillusioned me). Only hope that after leaving that maybe, just maybe, I shall one day find honour. I have dreamed a dreary dream beyond the Isle of Skye; I saw a dead man win a fight, and I think that man was me. God bless you, God forgive and understand me, God bless my beloved children and God save South Africa and remove all treachery and insincerity from its people. See to it that the army pays me what is due. Go to Commandant Horn and Colonel Dickson and Mrs van Heerden. Please don’t ever forget me, but forgive me and understand me. Marry again, should you so wish? Live well, inspired by the past. Don’t let it get you down.
See Major Beukes. See a psychologist, and this applies to the children as well. All will soon be sorted out. Our parents and siblings will be of immense help. I’m writing this in the Father of Remembrance in Fish Hoek. Instead, appropriate and not exaggerated. My articles will live after me. Some have to be sent off (in my office). I hope when I say that I have tried my best in life to make this a better world, my contribution to another world is better than the present confusion. I go with little fear, little resentment and strangely a love for people. I just found it difficult to show this. Forgive all that has harmed me. I hope that they will make a new start. If at all, I guess I’ll only be recognised well after my departure. I was a South African soldier and wanted to advance myself in this regard. Perhaps the next surgeon will get more understanding.
I am, for many reasons, pessimistic about South Africa. Although there are worse ways to die than in warfare, I do not want my boys to, if possible. Perhaps there is honour in it all, but I love them so much. Greta is the most important thing I’ve met. Develop her culture. God gives you all a fruitful life and a happy one. I can’t go on like this, and I can’t remember what I do and why I do it. Perhaps, in the future, people like me will have their problems solved. God bless our parents and siblings, those few who put honour and justice above their own needs and mercy on me. I phoned Alison at Saint James. She put down the phone. Maybe you can explain things to her one day. Should there be another world, may God grant that you, my most trusted, understanding and faithful friend, will meet me again. I LOVE YOU, MY DARLING, but must go.
Allan.
P.S. If they want to give me a military funeral, let them go ahead.”
Red Lion Hotel
16/4/1980
Darling,
Forgive me. I cannot see an alternative and must do what I think is best for all of us in the long run. I love you. I don’t expect you to understand. Allan”.
My father left this suicide note for our children:
2/4/1980
My very dear children,
There comes a time in some people’s lives when going to those that are loved is the only reasonable, and hopefully, the honourable thing to do. I got into a long, dark passage and could not find a guiding light to lead me out of it. Forgive me, dear Derek, Keith and Greta. I can only hope that one day you will understand. You have all been such beautiful children. God bless you all. I love you.
Dad.
Here is a note he left for my mother:
“Marion, thank you for telling me that the handicap of man lies more in his mind than in his body”.
My mother never told him this.
He wrote the note on separate pieces of paper repeatedly six times over. Still, his handwriting deteriorated into an indecipherable messy scribble.
Here are some articles from newspapers a day or two after his death:
“Surgeon Identified”: Crime reporter.
A surgeon found dead in a city hotel yesterday has been identified as Doctor E A Wilson of Maritzburg. Dr Wilson served in the Defence Force and was attached to 2 Military Hospital, Wynberg. He leaves his wife and two children”.
(They made a mistake, it was supposed to read THREE children).
“Surgeon dead in city hotel”, crime reporter
A Maritzburg surgeon was found dead in a city hotel today with his head in an ether-filled plastic bag. The surgeon, whose name was withheld until his next-of-kin have been identified, booked into the Red Lion Hotel in Long Market Street last night. He was not seen during the evening, and when the chambermaid went to wake him this morning, she found his door locked from the inside. She used a duplicate key to enter and found him dead. A large plastic bag, lined with ether-soaked cotton wool, had been placed over his head.
His body was removed to the Government mortuary”.
My dad had been at Grootfontein Military Base in South West Africa less than a month before his death. He flew on a reconnaissance mission over enemy territory.
He was traumatised by the coffins of three army officers, friends he had made very recently in the army pub, outside his barracks. They were killed in a military aircraft crash and burning.
I don’t know what else has happened up there in SWA if anything … and never will. I remember him telling me he saw a terrorist/freedom fighter drop dead out of a tree or bush from a bullet.
The inquest was to determine the circumstances of his suicide. The outcome was not made public, not even to his widow, remaining a mystery to this day to the family.
Also, recently, my mother declared that she doesn’t know why he took his life, despite his medical illness and military experience. Suicide is often shrouded in mystery.
Doctor Edward Allan Wilson died 16 April 1980 aged 40.
He won the Douglas Gold Medal in 1972 for being the top medical surgeon in South Africa.
Eclipse of the soul — Body and mind perplexity
Knock, knock echoed the heavy wooden door. “Who’s there?” asked Sardonicus the Innkeeper. “It is I, Crucifer,” came the reply.
Sardonicus opened the creaking door to the sight of a strange beast.
Half man, half-wolf. His piercing wolf eyes glowed in the dark of the night-time fireplace. He whimpered like an injured, wild animal.
“Crucifer, you say? Strange name! From whence cometh thou, and what may be your destination?” asked the Innkeeper.
“Yes, Crucifer. I am Lucifer of the Crucifix. The Morning Star became jaded and black. I cometh from the dark places where angels fear to tread. My companions from Hell are on my trail.”
“And who may these companions be?” asked Sardonicus.
“The hounds of hell. They have come to steal my soul and deliver me to Satan ”.
“Come in and rest for the night. Tomorrow you must go early before the light of day,” trembled the Innkeeper.
The man-beast shuffled into the inn, put his load down and settled into a chair.
The innkeeper noticed a raw wound on Crucifer’s body. “How did that wound come to be?” he asked.
“Mortal combat,” moaned the beast. “I am fleeing the hounds who devour human flesh.”
“Their carnal lust is ferocious.”
“You never answered where you are heading,” said Sardonicus.
“I am heading to purgatory, the chasm between Eternity and Hades, life and death”.
“And where may that place be?”
“By my reckoning, five days of trekking through the deep forest from here,” said the stranger.
“And what is your mission?” asked the innkeeper.
Author’s Note: What awaited the family (Uncontrolled Mission) was devastating and a fight between Good and Evil! Please read all the chapters.
