Forgotten Heroes: African Soldiers in World War II

A Continent Called to War

When South Africa entered the war against Germany in September 1939, the Defense Act of 1912 said only white citizens could fight as combatants. Still, black, coloured and Indian volunteers answered the call. The African National Congress pledged loyalty to the Commonwealth, asking only that their service be rewarded with political rights—a promise that was never kept.

By mid‑1940 three non‑white units were created under the Directorate of Non‑European Army Services:

• Cape Corps
• Indian and Malay Corps
• Native Military Corps (NMC) – black South Africans

Neighbouring territories also sent thousands of men to the African Auxiliary Pioneer Corps: about 10,000 from Botswana, 20,000 from Lesotho and over 2,000 from Swaziland. Altogether roughly 80,000 black South Africans served in the NMC, a contribution that has long been overlooked.

Corporal Lucas Majozi – Bravery at El Alamein

During the fierce Battle of El Alamein in October 1942, Lucas Majozi, a young Zulu stretcher‑bearer with the NMC, showed extraordinary courage. Attached to the 1st South African Division, he moved through German minefields under constant machine‑gun and artillery fire.

When shrapnel wounded him, a medic told him to retreat to the aid post. Majozi refused because other wounded men still lay in the open. After his stretcher partner fell, he carried the injured on his back alone. Despite orders to stop, he kept working until he collapsed from exhaustion and blood loss at dawn.

Major General Dan Pienaar praised him: “With a lot of bullets in his body, he repeatedly returned to a veritable hell of machine‑gun fire to pull out the wounded. He is a man of whom South Africa can be proud.”

For his actions Majozi received the Distinguished Conduct Medal—the second‑highest British award for bravery and the highest ever given to a black soldier in WWII. After the war he returned to his hometown, joined the police, and died in 1969.

Corporal Job Maseko – A Saboteur’s Story

Job Maseko, born in Springs in 1922, volunteered for the NMC and was sent to North Africa with the 2nd South African Division. When Tobruk fell to Rommel in June 1942, he became one of 10,722 South African prisoners of war. The Germans separated prisoners by race: white soldiers went to camps in Europe, while black soldiers were forced to work on the docks of Tobruk’s port.

Using his experience with explosives from the gold mines, Maseko devised a daring plan. While fellow prisoners distracted the guards, he slipped into the hold of a German cargo ship, built an improvised bomb from a can filled with cordite hidden among gasoline cans, lit the fuse, and slipped away. The ship sank in Tobruk harbour.

Maseko later escaped the POW camp, trekked three weeks through the desert back to Allied lines, and rejoined the fight at El Alamein. He was awarded the Military Medal. War artist Neville Lewis noted that Maseko had been nominated for the Victoria Cross, but a senior officer rejected the recommendation because he was black. His family continues to seek that recognition today.

Job Maseko died in 1952 after being struck by a train near Springs. He was so poor that his funeral had to be paid for with borrowed money.

What They Came Home To

When the war ended in 1945, the African veterans returned with new skills, experiences, and hopes for a fairer South Africa. Their reward was modest: a cash payment, a khaki uniform, and in many cases a bicycle. White veterans, by contrast, received houses and land. The government gave white male veterans a total of £10 million, while the entire Native Military Corps received only £5,795.

Three years later apartheid became law. Despite having fought for freedom abroad, these men came home to a nation that denied them basic rights, land, and recognition.

Conclusion

The story of Lucas Majozi, Job Maseko, and tens of thousands of other African soldiers reminds us that victory in World War II was not won by one group alone. Their bravery helped defeat fascism, yet they returned to inequality and silence. Remembering their sacrifice ensures that their courage is honoured—not just on Victory Day, but every day.