A little more about the Dutch capitulation in Java

I pause for a moment in my narrative to interpolate a word or two about the Dutch capitulation in Java.

For some reason or other it seemed to be generally expected that when the Jap chose to tackle Java, he would find himself up against a tough opposition. I cannot recall that there was the slightest concrete foundation for this idea, but can merely record that their view was the accepted one.

As I have already mentioned the abrupt and mysterious departure of Wavell and his staff caused many to wonder uneasily if Java was really such a touch nut to crack as had been imagined.

The Dutch Navy and Air Force did brilliant work out of all proportion to their actual strength and literally gave their all. There was not a ship and hardly a plane left when the Jap invasion occurred. Practically all planes had been at the behest of the Allied Command used in Malaya to bolster up the sadly deficient air strength there in a vain effort to patch up the swiftly crumbling defences of the Peninsula and very few, if any, returned from these operations.

Navy and Air Forces went out in a blaze of glory, one may say. The so far inexplicable and unexplained collapse of the Army is still shrouded in mystery. The Dutch Parliamentary Commission Van Poll, which visited Java in March this year (1946) states that an investigation in this connection is urgently desirable and as it is evident from this that even official circles are still in the dark as to the reasons for the ignominiously defeat of the Military Forces it would be ridiculous for me to even try to give an explanation.

One thing must be considered, in my opinion, to have vitally weakened the Army as a fighting force and that was the tragic death of General Berenschot, the Commander in Chief who lost his life in a plane crash in Batavia. Berenschot was recognised as a brilliant soldier and as C in C very popular with the troops. At the time of the crash it was broadly hinted in many quarters that there had been foul play, that the plane had been tampered with by enemy agents, but this can have been more rumour on the part of sensation loving news mongers.

Berenschot's successor was the former Chief of Staff, General Poorten. I know nothing of his military qualification, but the man in the street, like myself, can only naturally assume that the failure of the Army, when put to the test, was his responsibility in the first instance and that the collapse was due to his lack of vision and judgement.

The strength of the Army, numerically was I believe, somewhere in the region of 80,000 including native troops, but of this number only about half were professional soldiers. The number of Europeans was about 20,000, I understand. This means that 50% of the Army was made up of untrained men, those who had hastily mobilised from all peaceful walks of life at the outbreak of hostilities.

The Dutch had always had the conscript system which meant that at a certain age, those males who were deemed fit for military duty were called up and put through a course of training lasting, I understand, about 9 months and were then relegated to the Reserves and liable, like our Territorial Force, to be called up at once in the event of war. On reaching the age of 40, such men became automatically transferred to the Landstorm, which may be translated as Home Guard.

But when the Dutchmen in Java were called up, the great majority of them had this period of military training anything from 10 to 20 years behind them, and were probably not even capable of forming fours smartly let alone be expected to take any efficient part in modern methods of warfare. True, they were called up in rotation for shooting practice at the range for one day, and on that day expended 5 rounds of ammunition each at the butts, receiving their soldier's pay of about 20 cents for their trouble.

But even these facts, which could very reasonably be put forward as an explanation of the Army not having fought well, does not explain the complete and utter breakdown of every form of organised resistance.

There are tales of officers who just disappeared and of the failure of the Air Support Command to deliver supplies to the troops abandoned to their fate in Tjiater and elsewhere, but as this is all hearsay it is better not to enlarge on these matters. One instance I can mention from personal observation. It was on, I believe, the fourth day of the invasion that Ena and I were driving down the Lembangweg to town in pouring rain when we overtook four young lads, weary, bedraggled and mud stained. Their uniforms were sodden and they were actually walking barefoot. They had walked all the way from Tjiater some thirty kilometres distant and had been on the road for two days.

Their story was the same as that of one of the employees which I have already mentioned. No food, and nobody in authority to tell them what they were to do.

We crowded them all into the car and brought them in turn to their respective homes.

Granted, as the events would seem to indicate, that the Allied High Command had decreed that the defence of Java was impossible, it is still clear that a token resistance was imperative in the interests of future Dutch prestige and it is unthinkable that it could have been suggested that the Army should have laid down its arms with hardly a blow being struck in self defence, even if it should necessarily have resulted in severe losses. The Navy and Air Force did not hesitate to make their sacrifices and there seems no reason, looking at the matter quite dispassionately why the Army should have done less. An investigation in due course is definitely necessary and no one will welcome light on this obscure subject more than the Dutch in Java themselves.

**** to be continued

Our first invasion of our house and home

During the afternoon, from 'Sunny Corner', we watched the melancholy of Dutch troops and equipment passing down the Lembangweg, part of which was invisible across the ravine. Each vehicle carried a white flag while the troops themselves wore a white handkerchief or other piece of white material around the neck. Incidentally, we had noticed that all public buildings in the town flew white flags from the masts on which the red, white and blue of Holland had waved so long and so proudly.

In the afternoon a second, to us, melancholy procession came down the Lembangweg from the North, that of the victorious Japanese singing and shouting their triumphant into our beautiful Bandoeng. These also carried white flags, but the white smeared the bloody sun of Japan.

It was just at sunset that, happening to look out at the front window, I saw a bunch of Jap soldiers enter the houses of two neighbours, some 100 yards across the way from 'Sunny Corner'. I called to Ena and Bill Leslie to come and watch what was going on. Lydia was with the kiddies in the spare room preparing them for bed and we did not disturb her.

As we watched, we saw the cars of my neighbours being driven out on to the road by the Japs and driven down the hill. Guessing that private cars were already being commandeered, I saw to it that I had the keys of our Chrysler Plymouth in my pocket so as to be ready when our turn came.

*****

It was about dark when I noticed a solitary Jap making his way towards our house. Somehow or other the idea of waiting until I was summoned by his knock went against the grain with me, so that while he was still some yards from the house, I opened the door and went to meet him. He, however, pushed past me into the front room, where Ena and Bill were standing.

He was probably an NCO of some sort and he was just as dirty as his superiors whom I had seen earlier in the day. Not only that, but at this close range, he actually stand, an oily, sweaty odour which we were to learn to associate with all of his tribe.

He strutted into the room and stood, feet widespread and arm akimbo, looking about him with studied superciliousness for some moments. We also stood, silent, waiting to see what would happen.

With insolent leisure, he then removed the dirty woollen white gloves which covered his even dirtier hands, tossed the gloves on to a nearby occasional table, took a packet of cigarettes from his breast pocket, lit one, threw the match on the carpet and stood puffing in a lordly fashion.

All at once he shot out a finger at me.

"Inggris?" (English) he asked.

I didn't see the sense of trying to drum into his thick skull that I was no Sassenach, so I replied "Ja".

He tapped himself impressively on the chest and said "Nippon!", and gravely shook hands with me.

Then his finger shot out in Bill's direction.

"Inggris?"

Bill also said "Yes" to avoid argument.

Again the Nip tapped himself importantly on the chest and said "Nippon!" Then he shook hands with Bill.

He stood for a few minutes more puffing his cigarette. Then suddenly he turned on his heel and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

We three sat down and looked at each other, wondering what this meant. Did it mean that the fact of our being British gave us a certain standing in Japanese eyes? It certainly did, but not in the way we then thought, as we were soon to learn. And how did the Jap know that we were British? That was fairly easy to answer. Spies, no doubt, had had us all taped long before. I myself had patronised the Japanese hairdressing salonm, Kawata, opposite our office for year and Kawata himself, who had been in business in Bandoeng for something like 20 years, had evacuated, together with all Bandoeng Japanese residents, to Japan on the outbreak of hostilities in the Pacific. Doubtless these sons of Nippon had been able to supply the Japanese Intelligence with highly detailed information regarding Bandoeng's citizenry. It had been generally accepted for a long time that all Japs in Java, as indeed elsewhere in the Pacific, were there as spies and that their various avocations were merely a cloak for their espionage activities.

It was about 10 minutes later when we heard the sound of many feet on the road outside. Divining what this portended, I again opened the door in order to meet our visitors before they should have the opportunity of summoning us to open up, or, what was more likely, of forcing their way in without ceremony.

The door opened outwards and my hand was still on the knob when I was seized by the wrist and a Jap soldier started tugging at the wristwatch I was wearing. At the same time seven others jostled past me into the front room. All were armed with rifle and bayonet.

Growling throatily what I presume were sundry Japanese bloodthirsty threats, the Jap kept twisting my wrist and plucking at the watch until I had no option but to undo the clasp and let him have it. Thus released I turned back into the room to discover that Ena and Bill had already been forced to surrender their watches.

No more watches being available, they then turned their attention to the rings on our fingers. One Jap took Ena's engagement ring, attracted no doubt, just like a monkey, by the gleam of the solitaire diamond, but ignored her wedding ring. Another Jap helped himself to my wedding ring. While these two were thus for the time being engaged, the others dispersed themselves throughout the house. Two of them barged into the room where Lydia was with the children and it must have given her a great shock, particularly in her condition, as up to that moment she had had no idea of what was going on.

Suddenly, one of the gang seized me by the arm and hustled me outside into the night. I wondered if I was going to be bumped off. But I was relieved to discover that he wanted the car out of the garage. His desire was conveyed to me in unmistakable sign language.

I backed the car out of the garage on to the road. The gear lever on the steering wheel had him puzzled and I had to explain and demonstrate to him as best I could how it worked. He grunted what I understood to be his comprehension, in due course, and left the engine running while he took over and glided off down the hill. I found myself then free to return to the house.

Incidentally, I may mention that the next morning we found the car abandoned just about 60 yards down the road and of this more anon.

While I had been out of the hose, the Japs had poked about all over the house, opening drawers and cupboards in the search presumably of portable loot in the way of jewellery perhaps, but I don't think they took anything of importance. They pinched about half a dozen bottles of beer of the frigidaire, though. Fortunately the whisky bottle on the sideboard was empty.

They were just preparing to leave when I got back. One of them as he passed me patted me over as if searching for a weapon. His hand encountered the outline of my automatic cigarette lighter which I was carrying in my trouser pocket. He made me produce it and when I did so I had to show him what it was and how it worked. When it lit up, his face lit up even more. I had to let him see the wheels go round again. He made a grab at it and snatched it from me with one hand while with the other he pushed something into my hand. My wedding ring! I slipped it quickly into my pocket reflecting that this was much more than a fair exchange for a pocket lighter which had cost me only f2.50

With their departure, the house was suddenly quiet although we could hear them shouting hoarsely to each other, in the distance. We were all naturally somewhat upset by this experience and were glad to sit down quietly, congratulating ourselves that it had not been worse.

But our troubles for the evening were not over yet!

****** to be continued

And so during the afternoon....

During the afternoon in ever increasing numbers, Dutch troops could be seen wandering aimlessly about the street outside. The all looked lost, like sheep without a shepherd. This simile is very accurate. Some of them wandered into the lane at the side of our office premises, having vainly sought food at the Indian restaurant next door. We were fortunately able to provide them with a rough meal, thanks to the provisions we had brought with us, and while they sat on the pavement eating ravenously they told us how they had been somewhere up north of Lembang for the past three days and that there were no officers anywhere to give them orders. They had received no food supplies and at length bewildered and famished, they had made their way back to Bandoeng.

About 5 pm we decided to go along to the Concordia Club for a cup of tea although the lounge and terrace were full of khaki or field green clad, mostly weary, figures, there were no 'boys' (waiters) to be seen nor did anything seem to be being served. We all went prospecting in the service regions and eventually found an assistant chef, who informed us the Club was completely sold out of everything eatable and that even hot water was not available owing to the furnaces being blacked out as a result of the mass desertion of all the native staff.

It was the same story at all restaurants and cafes and we had perforce to return eventually to the office without having partaken of the cup which at that moment would have cheered more than usual. By this time it was getting dark and as there was nothing to be gained by sitting about in the mosquito invested discomfort of the office, we had a quick scratch meal and for the second night, retired at a ridiculously early hour.

Next morning, Sunday, we discussed the situation once more and finally decided to be fatalistic about the whole business and to return to Dennenlust. We felt we had had enough of discomfort and it was particularly hard on the kiddies and also on Lydia who was expecting her third baby. The Sparkes contingent, when they heard our intention, decided to do likewise, and within a very short time we were again installed in our homes, and revelling once more in the ease of domestic comforts.

But we were not destined to have peace of mind for long. At 11 am General Poorten, Commander in Chief of the Army, broadcast the tragic announcement that capitulation had taken place, and the "the Royal Dutch Indian Army had ceased to exist."

Our feelings on hearing this message can better be imagined than described. We just looked at each other in stunned silence. The rest of the day passed quietly except for the occasional loud hum of the flight of seven silver coloured Jap bombers, their wings prominently displaying the blood red sun symbol of Nippon which circled at intervals above the town. When night fell it was as if the silence of the grave itself had descended on Bandoeng. Inevitably we talked a lot and discussed the situation in an effort to cheer each other up, but all of us, I think, with the exception of the children went to bed with heavy hearts.

Over the radio, during the evening, we had been informed that the Japanese command desired the presence of the municipal authorities, bankers and business men to be held in the Town Hall the following morning at 9 am. Sparkes and I decided we had better attend.

When we arrived at the Town Hall we found that there were already quite a number of Japanese soldiers to be seen there. True to the 'showing off' propensities of the Nip and which we were to observe repeatedly through the next three and a half years various groups were engaged in a sort of spectacular sword play in the grounds of the great delectation of the natives who had collected in hundreds to enjoy this free show. The 'swords' were more like wooden staves with which they made passes at each other each attempting to avoid the onslaught of his opponent by very quick and agile jumps and springs. The whole to an accompaniment of blood curdling yells. The whole business was, of course, just a small instance of the initial workings of the Japanese propaganda machine and expressly designed to impress the native population.

We were about 100 all told at this meeting which took place in the Council Chamber which was a fairly large room fitted out with a raised dias along one side, from which I presume in normal times, the Mayor used to preside over the deliberations of the city fathers. A few of the municipal functionaries appear to be in charge of the preliminaries and we were directed by these gentlemen to chairs set in rows facing the diaz, at the same time being nervously instructed to stand to attention when the Japanese General and his staff arrived.

We had a long time to wait, about an hour and a half, if I remember aright, but sufficiently long to let the feeling of humiliation at this treatment be felt by all present, a feeling which was intensified to the Nth degree when the conquerors at long last deigned to appear.

A more ruffian like, slovenly and barbaric looking bunch of unshaven travesties of the genus homo I had never seen nor hope to see again.

The General himself was the typical Jap of caricature, all teeth and opaque slitty eyes glaring through thick lensed spectacles. There were about then Nips altogether and, with one exception, the others were, in various ways, as repulsive looking as the General. The exception was one who, from the wings on his breast, was evidently the representative of the Air Force. He looked almost clean and almost human.

In spite of the stark tragedy of the situation, I could not help feeling at the time, in a detached sort of way, that this was an historic occasion and that I was privileged to be present on such a momentous occasion.

The proceedings were fairly brief and amounted in effect to the signing of the declaration by the Mayor in which he undertook the responsibility for the general good conduct of the citizenry of Bandoeng while other authorities and business men were instructed to carry on with their duties and businesses as usual in order to ensure normal conditions being maintained in the town.

The General gave his orders in a series of animal like mutters and grunts which were translated and communicated to us in Malay, just the pleasant little way of the Japanese of giving the knife a twist in the wound. We all stood at attention as the General and his staff quitted the Chamber.

The civil authorities broadcast during the morning a request that everyone stay indoors that day as from noon, as the Jap occupational force was expected on the early afternoon.

**** to be continued