About May 1944 we heard ‘planes flying over, but they were too high for us to see if they were ‘ours’. A fortnight later, one did fly over very low, so that we could plainly see the pilot, and he was certainly not Japanese. I was hanging out some clothes to dry at the time, and waved the pillowcases – what a moment that was! However, my joy was short lived, for a Japanese soldier came running to our house, shouting at me to get indoors. After that, we were forbidden to give any sign that we were there, though it was obvious to us that the war must be drawing to a close if our Allies were flying over our part of the world. We felt in our bones that it would not be long before we were moved again, so we began to prepare our boxes for removal, in case we had to leave at a moment’s notice. As it happened, we had a day’s notice. After bundling everything together, we loaded our household goods on to a bullock wagon and we three women and five children walked to the coast, where we were to be picked up by another wagon for the next part of the journey to Donggalla. The men had to walk all the way, but arrived in good spirits the day after we arrived.
We were now given a larger hut in a small village. The village was deserted, as all the people had run inland when the planes started coming over. We, too, felt very uneasy, but for a few days nothing happened, not even a visit from the Japanese. Every day started with prayers, then the men went looking for places to hide from the bombing. One night, Ann had a very vivid dream of lights in the sky, and she was so agitated that I felt it must be a warning – perhaps of an invasion. If the Allies came from the sea, and the Japanese repulsed them on land, we should be caught in the cross fire. We told the children that when they went to sleep, they must always have their dark blankets ready to hand so that, at a moment’s notice, they could grab them round their necks and run and hide in the deep holes the men had dug for this purpose. A night or two after, it happened. We reached the holes all right, but it had been raining heavily, and the holes were half filled with water. We had to hold the children up, so that their faces and necks were above the water! As soon as the bombardment ceased, and the tracer bullets no longer shone across the bay (as in Ann’s dream) we began to run inland to some empty huts we had seen. Once there, we stripped the children, and wrapped them just in the blankets. They thought it quite a bit of fun, joking and laughing about such an exciting experience. Not so their parents! However, next morning all was quiet and we took courage and returned to the village, thanking God for our deliverance. The next day we were left alone in the deserted village but, on the morning after, the Japanese soldier appeared and told us to get ready to move, as soon as it was dark, to a village near Donggala. That night we slept on the floor of the police station. Ox wagons had been ordered for us to take us to Palu, so we knew we were on our way home, and the war must be ending. Indeed, the Allies had been some time in Borneo, and it would only be a matter of weeks before we would be freed. All that night it rained hard, so instead of riding on the wagon, we walked and ran the whole way till we were met on the outskirts of the town by a policeman who conducted us to a large house where we were to stay for the time being. Fortunately, the next morning the sun shone brilliantly as usual, and we soon had our bedding, clothes and boxes spread out on the lawns of the large grounds. Now we were on familiar ground and the men were on the lookout for friends from Kalawara to try to make plans for our return. We were still guarded by the police, but were allowed to visit the local market. Not much good as we had no money by then! Again, the hand of the Lord showed itself. On the day of our arrival a Menadonese gentleman asked to see my husband to confirm that he was a Dane. It turned out, he was the postmaster, who said he had a sum of £50 waiting at the Post Office for Niels from Makassar, and would he come and claim it? He had kept that money all that time, two and a half years – to be given to us just at a time when we literally had not a cent in the world, and our store of food was finished……….
Well, we soon visited the market after that, and bought in much needed food. Later, my husband was out with the children, when a man beckoned them into his house and showed them a pile of leaflets in a corner. The man had not been able to read them, but Niels read that the Japanese had surrendered and the war was over! The Allied planes had dropped those leaflets, but the Japanese had forbidden the people to pick them up, and ordered all the leaflets to be burned. Thank goodness there was one man brave enough to disobey! We rushed out into the road and Ann ran along the front saying she was going to be the first to tell the others that the war was over. It was getting dark so we hurried, and by the time we had reached the house we saw Mrs Frederiksen already making a cake for the celebration. The police were somewhat apprehensive to see all that was going on, but we told them that we knew the war was over and were determined to have a feast.
The next morning, all three men got out their white uniform suits. As Salvation Army Officers they went to the Japanese Commandant and sought permission to return to their posts at once, but this was refused. However, they were very politely received, and asked to sit down and talk. They were told there was much unrest in the island, and that, in Kalawara, our bungalow and buildings were still occupied by the Japanese. A good house in Palu was offered but the men refused to stay there and said they would make their own arrangements to return to Kalawara. A few days after this, my husband saw grobaks (ox wagons) passing, which he recognised as coming from Kalawara. Quickly, he made arrangements for them to stop on the return journey and take our luggage. The children begged to go on the wagon too, and soon clambered up. The men promised to look after them and, as we knew them, we had no hesitation in trusting the children to them. The next day we made our own preparations for the journey and looked for a ‘dog cart’ that would take us the 20 miles back to Kalawara. This was not too difficult and, earlier than we dared hope, we were on our way. There were now no Japanese to stand in our way – in fact, they had entirely disappeared from the streets. Now everyone knew that they had lost the war.
Perhaps it would be appropriate here to tell of the columns of Japanese soldiers who had passed our doorway during that week. What a sorry sight they were! Dejected, ragged and tired. They had been marching for days from the North, and many were barefoot. As they came along our children were all standing in a row. They bowed politely and said “Kon I Djiwa”, the greeting they had been taught to give the Japanese. The soldiers were clearly cheered to see the children; the other onlookers were encouraged to offer them water. This was to be the first of many battalions to pass along the dirt road to Palu, through Kalawara. They used to stay the night in the school, after bathing in the river, and being given a bowl of rice and vegetables. Their officers would stay in our bungalow – how young they were, and so grateful for the help we were giving them. In conversation we learnt that many were Christians, and had attended mission schools in Japan. They did not want the war, and were only anxious to get home.