Chapter 13: Aftermath of war in Java

It was not easy to get a ship going to Java, and finally we could only find a freight vessel going to Jakarta, and that would take all of six weeks. We went home to England to say goodbye, and then sailed from Middlesbrough on a dull, cold, February day in 1949. All the same, it was good to be on board again. As it was a freighter, there were only twelve passengers and these we got to know quite quickly, becoming a very friendly group. There were no other children on board, but Ann and Francis found their own amusement. In the afternoon, Francis generally spent his time sitting on deck with an old sailor who would be mending something or another. I often wondered what they had to talk about, the old grey-haired sailor and the young boy.

I do not remember much about this voyage, except one fearful storm just outside Marseilles Harbour. We could not enter for three days. The ship was an old one, and she creaked and rocked in a frightful way every time the giant waves broke over her. We eventually entered harbour to land the cargo, and after that the voyage was very pleasant and uneventful. We finally arrived in Jakarta at the end of April and went straight on to Malang Corps, which was our new appointment. Malang was a pleasant town, recovering from the war and the climate was not too hot. We had a large bungalow adjoining the Hall, and we soon settled down to our duties. The children went to the Dutch school, which had been re-opened. Apart from the curfew one could imagine that all was well, but this was far from the case. Guerrilla fighters were all around the town, and every night the Dutch Military were on duty protecting us. Niels went about his Corps duties as usual, even ignoring the curfew when it interfered with visiting the people.

One young woman who had recently begun to attend our meetings was Miss Ong Bing Tjang. She had been brought by her grandmother, the only Christian in the family - the rest were Buddhists. She helped by keeping the register at the Sunday School, and although too shy to take any active part in my Home League gatherings, she enjoyed coming with me. Eventually she began to understand the Christian way and gave herself completely to the Lord. She was soon wearing Army uniform and she asked if she could wear this as a witness to her family that she was a member of the Salvation Army. This was a brave thing to do and we realised that she was very serious in her decis­ion to be a Christian. At that time she was working in the office of the local newspaper, but as time went on she decided to offer herself for training as an officer at the College in Jakarta. This would mean a complete break from her family. Happily, they were sympathetic, and, following a Chinese custom, when the time came for her to leave home, her eldest brother accompanied her right to the college and met the officers there. She has been a very capable officer through the years and today she is the Women's Social Secretary.

At this time, my husband's responsibilities were not only for Malang, but for the surrounding Corps with which it was very difficult to maintain contact. Turen was one, where our cottage hospital was still in the hands of the guerrilla fighters. They gave permission for Army officers to have oversight as we had Indonesian nurses working there, so a Captain Manuhutu was appointed to be in charge. His wife and children were living with us in Malang, and now and again he would visit them from the hospital, in convoy with Dutch soldiers. One day, as he was approaching Malang, the soldiers saw a group of guerrillas approaching, so they got down from the car to try to parley with them. The Captain started to take off his 'Army' cap, but thought that would be cowardly (he told me afterwards). So he put it on again and saluted the leader of the group. He at once recognised the uniform and said: 'I know these people - they're all right. Let them proceed on their journey'. Not long afterwards, the hospital was returned to the S.A. and there was no further trouble.

Two other Corps, Jember and Banyuwangi, were much further away and could only be reached by train. Trains always had to have an armed guard and sometimes even the soldiers did not dare continue their journey through dangerous country. One morning, Niels set out hoping to reach Banyuwangi by nightfall, but he got no further than a quarter of the way. News had reached the train driver that guerrilla bands were attacking all along the line (mostly the Dutch Military guarding the train) and he decided to turn back. That night, very late, 1 heard the noise of a heavy lorry drawing up and much shouting. My heart stood still with fright - I thought we were being attacked by guerrillas. What a relief when I heard Niels' voice call out: 'It's all right. I've been brought back from the train. We had to turn back.' The next day my husband tried again, and this time the train got through, and he was able to meet the comrades of Banyuwangi for the first time. How encouraged they were to feel they were not a forgotten group. On the return journey, another group was visited at Jember, and so we felt that at last the East Java district was being built up again. At that time, we felt that if it hadn't been for the continual presence of the Dutch Military, our spiritual work would have returned to normal earlier.

About this time, two Chinese girls brought me a tiny Chinese baby, asking me to look after her for the time being, as she had been left behind in a camp when the soldiers had driven the parents away. There were no relatives to be found, so I agreed to take her. I cleaned the poor little thing and took her to the doctor who told me she was quite healthy, except for a rash on her face. He gave me ointment for this. I fed her on Nestle's Milk and she grew into a round-faced beautiful girl. We kept her for four months and then an uncle turned up to claim her. I was thankful that I had been able to give her a good start in life.

One day, my husband and I had just entered the main thoroughfare when we were confronted by a great procession of guerrillas, holding placards and yelling 'Merdeka!'(Freedom!). They marched in long rows, each one holding a long, bamboo stick. Together, these stretched from one shop to another across the road, so that no one could pass. We were the only white people to be seen, but we were in our white uniforms as usual. The ferocity of their faces frightened me - and Niels held on tight to his bicycle. At that moment, the words "Saya juga Merdeka dalam Jesus Kristus!" (I am also free in the Lord Jesus!") came to my mind, and I shouted this at the top of my voice, raising my arms in the air as they did. Quickly, the leader indicated we could pass by. In a few minutes we were out of danger! Later, we were told that the previous night, one of their leaders had been killed by the Dutch Military, and these men were bent on reprisals. There were no more incidents like this that I can remember, for the Dutch were soon to return to Holland. They left behind much chaos, but with independence came the hope of building a better community.

On one of our last Sundays in Malang we had a very pleasant surprise, just at the start of the morning meeting. Through the open door, we saw a fine looking Indonesian officer calling out a greeting to us. It was our former assistant, Captain Ngahu from Jokja! Because of the war, he had been forced to go 'underground' with his wife and four children, and the grandmother. They had lived in a small village that was still under the domination of the guerrillas. He had left very early that morning in order to catch us at the meeting, and there he was - absolutely beaming from his dark, shiny face. The tears were running down his face as he presented us with a great bundle of books - all the song books he had saved from the corps. After the meeting we had a wonderful time listening to his story. He had kept his family going with the proceeds from his former trade of carpenter and on Sundays he had held meetings in cottages around the villages. The Captain is no longer with us, but his fine family have grown up a credit to him. His eldest son is a Salvation Army doctor; two other sons have been to University, and his wife is still the matron of a children's home in Semarang.

Soon after this, we were transferred to Surabaya, a very large city, where the Army had many centres of work; this included a Chinese and a Dutch Corps, a Boys' Home where boys were brought in from the streets after the war had ended, and a very fine Teaching Hospital. Niels had charge of all the spiritual work going on in all these centres, as well as in the surrounding district. I helped with the Corps Cadets and Home Leagues.

After the surrender of the Dutch there was the difficult task of building up the economy. The black market was rife, and stealing the order of the day. The authorities seemed to turn a 'deaf ear' and a 'blind eye' to all this. We had our share of the consequences of the general lawlessness. First, Niels lost his guitar and specs. Then the children's raincoats were stolen - then Niels' and mine. Then gradually things got better, and I decided to hang up my new curtains, and put on the new bed cover. That was a mistake! When we returned from the meeting one Sunday morning, I was horrified to see that all had been stolen through the open window. Someone had pushed through a long bamboo pole which had picked up everything within reach. The bedroom was stripped bare. All my cherished mats, covers and curtains vanished for ever. We could not afford to replace these, so we had to make do with the old, short, calico curtains and a batik cover for the bed. Then came the 'last straw'. I had gone to the local market with my few pence to buy what was absolutely needful. It was not easy to find enough food for the family at this time. While I was looking at a stall, I felt a hand dip into my basket and take my purse. I rushed after him, calling 'Thief, thief!' and many of the local people ran with me. Trams were passing all the time at the end of the road, and I hoped this would stop him. It did. We caught up with him and he was so frightened he threw the purse away, and my money was safe. What a relief - we would have our dinner that day!

I felt now that I must do something to augment our income, so I began to give English lessons. My first pupil was a fine Javanese young lady, who had had a good education and was anxious to have English conversation lessons. She continued with me for three years, and I still correspond with her. After the lessons, we generally had some conversation about religion, and she was very interested in everything I said; so much so, that she asked for a Bible. Sadly, she told me, she would not be able to accept our Christian faith because of the strong Muslim family tradition. She was engaged also to a young Muslim, but she said that she would tell her children in due course what she had heard from me. Only this week I had a letter from her- she is doing her best with her family of three girls. The eldest is now at University.

Another very interesting pupil I had was a nun - a teacher in the High School. As we were on friendly terms with the Roman Catholics, I saw no reason why I should not help her, so I went along to the R.C. Hospital where she was waiting for me. At first we felt very strange with each other, but when I asked such a question as 'why had she become a nun?' she was eager enough to talk, and we got on with the lesson. She had wanted to enter the Convent ever since she was a girl of 13, and was very happy in her teaching work. We had some very pleasant periods together. After she passed her English exam, she hired a taxi especially to come and tell me.

After that, a young man whose acquaintance I had made at the Chinese Corps, asked if I would help him with his English. He was still a student at the High School, but hoped to go to England with a party for the Salvation Army International Youth Congress. So we settled down and I enjoyed the lessons as much as he did. He was a fine young Christian, and I had high hopes for him that he would volunteer to become an officer while in England. Gijs did not think so, for he felt he had to return and take up teaching, to repay his father the money he had given him for his education However, the Lord guided him to surrender his life for service in the Army, and he entered the Training College in Holland in 1951- After nine months he was appointed to the mission operating on the canals in Holland, and spent the summer with other young officers preaching to the people on the canals and river sides. Subsequently, he returned to Indonesia (as it now was called) where he later married. He and his wife and their four sons have been a great blessing throughout the Territory. He is now Colonel Gijs Pattipeilohny, chief Secretary (Second in Command) in Indonesia.

We had very fine young people's work in this city, and one of the yearly features was the Young People's Day, when groups would come to Surabaya from every corps in the district. We would have a wonderful soul-saving and glorious time together. Directly after the War the young people were rather shy about wearing uniform, but at the second ‘Rally’, it was a great en couragement to see most of those attending wearing their 'S's' on their white frocks or shirts. Their religion was beginning to have real meaning and they were glad to witness to the power of it with their uniform. The Corps Cadet brigades were started again, and it was usual for these groups to hold open-air meetings in their towns. What a joy it was to see these young people marching and singing in the streets, and to realise that even the Japanese-occupation had not been able to dampen their spirits. In fact, in many instances, because of the cottage meetings which had been held when the Army went 'underground', the young folks were more determined than ever to be enthusiastic corps cadets.

While in Surabaya, we celebrated the 50th anniversary of the Army's beginnings in Java. Great interest was aroused when General and Mrs. Orsborn came to lead the great meetings in the city. We officers were very much blessed by the special meetings for us.

Our work went on in the Java Division and progressed well. Many of the former corps were re-opened and new centres built up. One of these centres was a few miles from Rembang where we had a good Javanese Corps, led by a Toraja (Central Celebes) young man called Usa. He had many "Pemberita Peperangans" to sell every month. One day he was very tired and depressed at the lack of sales and sat down by the riverside. He had almost decided to give up and go home, when he suddenly felt he must give it another try. He knelt down and prayed to God for help, then went to a cafe that he had previously overlooked. There he was received in a friendly way by the proprietor who gave him a cool drink. Refreshed in body and spirit, he offered his papers to the customers and immediately sold a few. Then the Chinese owner asked him where he had come from that morning, and there followed a most interesting conversation. He told our Lieutenant, that his parents had known the Army in China, and had taken him to be dedicated at one of their meetings. He even brought out the certificate that had been signed by a Chinese Salvation Army officer many years before. Before he left, Usa invited his new friend to visit him in Rembang. The following Sunday, just before the meeting, he heard a motor-bike -stopping outside and there was Usa's new friend arriving for the meeting. That was the start of many such occasions, and the Chinese became wonderfully converted. He was always ready to do anything to help open our work in his own village. My husband went to visit him there, and found him most generous. He offered to furnish one of his big rooms as a Hall for meetings, he himself providing the seats and a platform. Before long, there was an impressive opening ceremony and meetings being held. It meant extra work for Usa, but how glad he was that he had not given up in despair before that first meeting.

Jember was also re-opened at this time, and Niels was able to raise the expenses for building a new Hall from good friends in Surabaya. Even the nails which were needed were given by the owner of a factory making them! Two planters' families were very friendly towards the Army and supported this corps for many years.

Another very enjoyable service during this time was the Sunday School I conducted in the Hospital. Ann and Francis were a great help here. I spoke to the children in Dutch, but as there were some children who only spoke Malay, Ann would sit with them and translate. They all loved the action songs of the Army. At Easter and Christmas we would invite the parents to attend, and before the meeting we would go round the wards and sing to the patients, distributing the gifts that the children had brought. For the Bible story illustrations, I found the flannelgraph most useful and popular.

The time was drawing near for our homeland furlough, so I had to hand over the Sunday School to my successor. A few days afterwards, there was a knock at my door. I was reluctant to open it, for I had just returned from an exhausting morning's visiting in the glaring hot sun, and was relaxing on the bed. The knocking went on, so I had to attend to it. There stood one of my Sunday School children, crying as if her heart would break. Great sobs shook her slender body. She had never called on me before and she seemed to be quite well - and dressed in her best frock. I was non-plussed. I tried to calm her; she was obviously very upset at our approaching de parture. I reminded her that I had often spoken about it, and the time had now come. All our things were packed, the boxes ready to be loaded on the lorry. I wondered what I could give her as a keepsake. She already had a Bible (her first Sunday School prize) and she loved the scripture pictures I had given her. I caught sight of my little battered-about dog ornament on the desk - my daughter's first gift to me - and said: "Pauline, will you have this little dog to remember me by?" But she wouldn't be comforted, and I realised she was indeed heartbroken because Sister was going. She had been one of our most regular attendants for three years, and that weekly meeting had meant much to her. Her parents were Eurasian and had little thought for religion. We prayed together and she tried to blink her tears away. I invited her and her parents to the last family evening we were holding a few days later, and promised to go once more to her village.

So the last farewell meetings were held, full of thanksgiving for what God had done in our midst. So many young people had developed into real Christians in that time and we had made many friends among the people. We left that appointment with very grateful hearts.