ONBEKEND: unknown, unfamiliar, unacquainted
(Grave of an unknown soldier at the Makam at Pandu, the KNIL
war cemetery in Bandung)
I never knew Hans, my Opa (Grandfather). I knew that he was a land surveyor for GMB, a
tin mining Company in Billiton, Indonesia, and that later on he became a KNIL
Captain. I knew that the outbreak of
World War II in the Pacific in 1941 was the last time the family existed as the
close-knit “four leafed clover” as he used to call it. To me, as a man, he was
completely unknown, just like many of those men whose bodies lie underneath the
earth at the KNIL war cemetery in Bandung, their last word simply “Onbekend”: Unknown, Unfamiliar, unacquainted.
There are few stories that reveal
the man behind the uniform, little to hint at what passions and fears motivated
him. I found myself looking for his name
at that cemetery in the large, black, leather-bound book that had been pulled
out from a lone wooden cupboard. Sitting at a small rattan table under a gazebo,
my fingers traced the final pages of the alphabetical list of 4000 handwritten
names. I walked slowly up and down beside row upon row of white crosses, each
one standing to attention with clean and militaristic uniformity on the rich emerald
green grass, bordered tidily by tropical plants. Most of
those crosses detailed names, dates of birth and death, but too many did not.
They asked me whether I wished to
put some flowers on a grave. I said yes. I said yes even though I knew his would not
be there, even though I knew it made no sense to look. I thought that by standing in the presence of
those who once stood beside him, I could approximate a familiarity that that
war, at least in part, had precluded.
A 68 year old letter however, written
by my Opa in prison camp and found amongst more papers from the attic, has
since offered me a small insight into who he really was.
It reveals the hopes, dreams,
regrets and demons that he dared to bring to the surface - a surface too often
precise and regimented - only after two years of soul searching, when he was
finally staring death right in the face.
Photo of a prisoner of war at Changi, Singapore at
liberation – from http://www.historylearningsite.co.uk/changi_pow_camp.htm
“In case this
letter is found after my death, I ask you, if it is possible, to enquire at the
addresses on the other side of this envelope.
My sincere thanks. Kaptain
Artillerie J C P Van Bael
To Mrs Marianne
Van Bael-Knoll, Bandung, Java
In case the
recipient is unknown, information might be obtained through the following:
1)
Department of
War
2) Gem. Mynb. Maatschappy, Billiton [GMB], Batavia or The Hague
3)
Mrs H Den
Hartogh, Bandung, 86A Nylandweg and 123 Nylandweg (Austrian -
spouse of ex Finance inspector, Bandung
4)
Mrs
Benschop, previous address Pahud de Mortagnes Laan 12, Bandung
5)
Austrian
Consulate
I wonder: the letter is ten pages
long. How did he manage to get hold of the materials in order to commit his desperate
thoughts to paper? "I
have been - you might not have imagined this - working hard for our future
during this time in captivity. I have continuously taken a prominent place
among the camp commanders” the letter
suggests.
Changi (Singapore) – 4th April 1944
To my dearest “Big-eyes”, Hennypen and Lottekind,
Darlings, I will not even attempt to try and write you a
long epistle, telling you what has happened since our last meeting together. Nor will I ask you the thousand and one
questions that I would so much like to ask.
What is the use of that? If this
letter reaches you through someone else, then all questions and answers will be
futile. And if I, which I furiously
hope, can ever give you this letter myself, then it will take us years to talk
everything through - years of luck, about which I dare not think.
This letter, dear Marianne, will therefore neither be a simple
conversation, nor a love letter which we have so often written in the
past. It will only be a business
letter. Circumstances, for various
reasons, have dictated that I cannot put off writing it any longer. After all, life is getting worse by the day
and the situation here is getting worse also in the camp. In fact, Droompje [my dream], this IS a love letter
because only my unbelievably great, unspoken love for you and our little Blondies
makes me write down all of this that I have to now, in the hope that if we
really do not see each other again, these points will be able to guide and help
you.
There are two copies of this letter. One is with other papers in my small sack and
in case of my death, hopefully would be found.
It is very much in question whether it would ever reach you. The second copy I will give to my best friend
in this prison camp: Major den Militaire Luchtvaart, J C Van Den
Vloodt. We have been together now for two years and have shared all of the good
and the bad – he is a magnificent, civilised chap. Honest and of good standing. I have asked him to help you wherever
possible.
The people who I
trust fully are the following. Please Marianne, let them be your advisors. They will do so willingly:
- Major Van Den Vloodt for information and advice.
- J A C Verschure [not in the camp] who will know all about the GMB and can help you in that respect.
- Lieutenant Colonal J C Hubach – a well known flying Doctor who lived in Bandung and is also in camp with us. [He] will also help you and give you advice. Also, for instance, for medical concerns.
- Lieutenant Colonal C Waltmann [the fourth friend in our group here]. He is from Bandung and of the Military Air force where I had been for a long time.
Darling, the
abovementioned people, and their positions, are first class and will be able to
help you with everything. Believe me, you can go to them, which you cannot do with
strangers.
My little Popperkind [Doll], I wish I could leave you much
more . But that doesn’t really help us
now, because who has got money? Where is
the money? What is money? All the present chaos, especially in [Netherlands]
India, is so enormous that no one can answer these questions. [Netherlands]
India will be empty, robbed, and completely worthless. Will the Government be in a position to issue
salaries and pensions? And will the
insurances even pay out? How would the
interest be? High? Low?
Nobody can answer. But, we have to trust that the Dutch Administration
in London and the Indian Administration in Australia, have prepared for the
future.
If, whilst you are
dealing with all of this, you sometimes find it difficult, think then that I am
with you and that I, my lovely, wish to look after you so that you don’t have
any worries for the three of you for the future.
He lists various possible sources of income and assistance
that Tikus should explore, including a
year’s salary from his old Company, insurance funds, savings, widow’s pension,
child benefit, Captain’s salary, back-pay during the war period, Department of
War, Austrian Consulate.....
He writes
out figures, in remarkable detail - the sums he thinks she may be able to claim
after the war.
Oh Darling, there are
more and other combinations possible – nobody knows but I hope that you will
help me by looking into everything. Be
brave, as I know you will be. Then you will achieve what you need to....... and
then I can be at peace.
No one can tell what
is going to happen in the future. What
value money will have and what would be a safe investment and what would be the
cost of living. But, my Lieve Grootoog [my
dear Big-eyes], you must promise me this:
a)
Don’t
ever lend out money
b)
Don’t
ever borrow money yourself – that will just give you more sorrow
c)
Never
spend more than your income (debt makes you poorer)
Then there will be
for the three of you the big question : What
now? How will this struggle finish? Will Holland still be Holland and will
Austria still be Austria? If I were to
be returned to you, my goal would be to take up a place in the, by then
necessary, Military Police, working for the reconstruction of the Dutch Indies.
If possible, I don’t want to return to Billiton. You know that I was never very happy working
there - I had imagined our future
together differently. Also, for the sake
of our dear “Klaver blaadje” [Four
leafed clover]. But all of this will not happen if I don’t
return. What then? I don’t know. Dear little Marianne, I will only set out a
few important points and I sincerely hope darling that you will do everything
to handle things. That, I will depend
upon. Take this as my last wish.
Don’t stay in [Netherlands] India! After you have organised everything, then go
to Europe. Java will be for a long time
in chaos and the three of you belong in Europe.
Only there will you find happiness again.
You know what I have
dreamt of a lot in these years? Don’t
laugh! Henny [will be a] Doctor and
Lottje a Lawyer! I don’t know why. But if you can, let
them study.
My sweet Marianne, Austria
is your homeland. Teach the children to
love it as I love it because you come from there. But next to that, let them also know about
Holland. Teach them that Holland was
also their fatherland.
The final thing my
darling. This is just for yourself. You know Marianne I was never very jealous in
our marriage. If I ever have any regrets
it is this: Now I know darling
that I have loved you more than I can ever say. Now I know how much
sadness I have given you.
Forgive me Marianne,
I beg you only to
remember the beautiful things that we have done together and forget all the
wrongful deeds I have done to you.
I ask you this as the
last thing! Now that it is maybe too
late. Now I can’t get it out of my mind
that you most probably will remarry but if that will happen, my love, I hope
that you will find the happiness that I would like to have given to you
forever.
Oh Marianne, to be able to return to you and
ask your forgiveness for all the hurt I have caused you and for my disloyalty that
I now myself deeply hate....how wonderful this would be. To love you in different surroundings, a
different work circle, and to remain unfalteringly loyal to you. With no secrets between us. Not one distrust. Nothing but a beautiful, deep love for the
four of us. To be jealous, to live only
for you. Darling, if this will happen, how happy we will be forever. But if I do not return, tell the
children that Daddy died for his fatherland. That means for the three of you. Tell them that Hansepie loved his Marianneke
and that we had a beautiful marriage.
Give them both, and
yourself, one last big kiss from me, with my wishes for your luck and future. Don’t ever forget that I have loved you above
all else. Don’t forget that above all
else your love has given me inner happiness and take that as consolation.
Farewell
darlings.
One last kiss from
your Hans.
Never forget your
Pappa?!
Servus (goodbye in Austrian)
(Some parts of the
letter have been edited out due to length or repetition)
This letter was
hidden amongst personal effects sent to Lottie (my Mum) after the sudden death
at 55 of their Mother, Marianne (Tikus) from a stomach ulcer in 1968. Mum could never bring herself to go through
those papers and so his heartfelt words and counsel remained unheard by his two
daughters – until now.
Under the folded right hand corner of the envelope are
hidden two words : “1st copy”, an addition reflecting Hans’
characteristic attention to detail.
On November 2nd 1945, two and a half months after
the end of the Pacific War, Hans was finally handed over to Allied forces.
Also released were his best friend in the camp, Van der
Vloodt, and Hubach, the flying Doctor. Waltmann’s records state neither that he was
released nor that he died – Onbekend.
Red characters written on his camp record indicate that Scheffer,
Hans’ camp mate whilst still on Java, died of dysentery as early as October
1942, just months after drawing my Opa’s portrait, two large red characters stamping indelibly
his fate: “Died”.
“Of the 42,000 KNIL (Royal Dutch East Indies
Military) and Royal Navy servicemen in Japanese captivity 8,200 died: almost
20%”. Beyond the scope of this blog but
important to note is that 80-90% of the ROMUSAN, the Indonesian “coolies” that
were sent to other parts of Asia to work died.
Hans headed directly to Bandung where we know that Tikus and
the girls had arrived sometime in December 1945. It was in Bandung, amongst the chaos of the post
war search for loved ones as well as the terror of the Bersiap period, that he
was finally able to deliver to Tikus by his own hand not only this letter but
also his promise: “to remain unfalteringly loyal… to live only for
you.”
For the next four years my Grandparents lived in
Batavia (Jakarta) whilst Hans did indeed work, as he had hoped to do, for the
reconstruction of the [Netherlands] Indies.
The girls, still weak and in need of a more stable environment for
recuperation, boarded an evacuee ship bound for NZ where they stayed for six
months in a relief camp before being sent to Australia to school (blonde girls on the left):
A letter from Queen
Wilhelmina of Holland, 1945, reads:
“To
the children who were interned.
Finally I can tell you that I've been thinking about you a lot, during that fearful time, when you were imprisoned in the camps…..
I was told of your cheerfulness and helpfulness for Mother and Father.
Dear children, I am proud of you, that you have so bravely endured through everything that was so difficult……
Now I wish you all happier days ahead. Wilhelmina”
Finally I can tell you that I've been thinking about you a lot, during that fearful time, when you were imprisoned in the camps…..
I was told of your cheerfulness and helpfulness for Mother and Father.
Dear children, I am proud of you, that you have so bravely endured through everything that was so difficult……
Now I wish you all happier days ahead. Wilhelmina”
Happier memories in Australia 1945-1949
The family reunited after four years in
Australia – a trip to the Puncak on Java before they headed back to Holland in
1949.
In Holland, the
family would yet again be separated:
Hans would work away during the week and return on weekends to the
couple’s one bedroom rented flat in The Hague.
Henny and Lottie went to live in “foster” homes until they completed
their schooling. Very much behind in
their studies as a result of being interned, they struggled. They both find amusing the suggestion that
they might have become a Doctor or a Lawyer:
“The whole thing left us a bit stupid!” they laugh.
At the first opportunity, Henny headed for London where she met her Kiwi
husband of over 50 years, and Lottie followed, putting herself through Nursing
training at St Thomas’ hospital.
But they always
loved returning “home” on visits to The Hague – to the tiny apartment they had never
lived in, and a country they had known for such a short period of their lives,
a very long way from the beaches of Billiton and the hills of Bandung. Having been uprooted countless times over the
years, “Home” for them was simply wherever their Mother was.
A young wife and
mother of two entered a prison camp and emerged, three years later, a very
strong and capable woman. My
Grandparents’ relationship – and the roles that each of them held within it –
would certainly have changed as a result of this. Many years later,
and not long before her death, Hans broke his promise to Tikus. An underlying estrangement, rooted in so many
years of separation and fertilised by a closeness between mother and daughters
through their shared experiences in the camps, meant that the two girls could
never find it in their hearts to forgive him. The tragedy of any loss, be it life, hope,
trust, possessions, a homeland, or
indeed love, seems to be exacerbated by the time invested, suffering endured and
sacrifices made in trying to build or hold on to that precious thing. And so his betrayal was a burden that he was
to carry far beyond his grave.
For Henny and Lottie, this letter was a bittersweet reminder of one of life's great challenges: that of reconciling, within oneself and within others, the duality of love and hate, good and bad, strength and weakness.
For me however, one step removed from all of those
memories, I feel in touch with a more
human side of my Grandfather than that which I have known. For good or for bad – or a bit of both. Reading his letter was like placing those
flowers on the grave of the unknown soldier, relieving it of its own heavy
burden: obscurity.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“If you realize
that all things change, there is nothing you will try to hold on to”.
TAO TE CHING
#74