“What made you feel like that just now? Was it the leaflets? They don’t really alter anything, you know.”
“Perhaps not. I do not know. But I laughed at those officers dancing about like little boys when someone is throwing them coins, and forgot to be frightened. Then, when you showed me what was on the paper, it was worse than it had been before. It was like waiting for the
pemoedas
to come, and I wanted us both to die.” She looked at me anxiously. “Do you understand?”
“Not altogether. Perhaps you have to be an Indo to understand completely.”
She nodded. “Yes, perhaps you do.” She hesitated. “It is curious to hear you use that word.”
“You used it.”
“And you do not dislike me for what I said?”
“No.”
“Put your arms round me.”
A few minutes later she said: “I do not really mind if I have to die, but I am afraid of being hurt.”
“I know. So am I. The men in the next room are. The men firing those guns are. Everyone is—Indos, Sundanese, Europeans—everyone. There’s nothing special about you.”
“That is not polite.”
“I don’t have to be polite to you. It was part of the arrangement.”
She smiled then. “You remember? That is very businesslike.”
“Certainly. And dying was no part of the arrangement. If one of us is to be killed or wounded because we
happen to be here, that is another matter, but we are not going to kill ourselves.”
“It is not much to kill oneself.” She was still smiling.
“It is to me. Whatever happens, don’t get that idea again, will you?”
Her smile faded and she looked up at me curiously. “Does it truly matter to you?”
“Yes, it matters.”
After a moment she nodded. “Then as long as you are here, I will not think of it.” She gathered up her hair and began to twist it into a bun on top of her head. “There is still water left in the bathhouse,” she remarked; “perhaps we should use it while we can.”
It was such a determined change of subject that it made me laugh.
She raised her eyebrows. “It will not be amusing if we cannot wash.”
“You’re right. It won’t.”
“Do you wish to go first?” She was still uneasy because I had laughed at her.
“No, you go ahead. If you use too much water, I shall beat you.”
She smiled. I had made a feeble joke and she had regained face. All was well.
“May I wear your bathrobe?”
“Of course.”
When she had gone, I ate a slice of papaya, lit a cigarette and went out on to the terrace. The bow-legged
officer was standing at the far end, looking out gloomily at the smoke haze. He nodded curtly when he caught sight of me, and I nodded back. We did not speak.
The firing had slackened off considerably and there were only occasional flurries of activity. It was as if both sides were weary of the argument, but could not quite make up their minds to abandon it. I found that a comforting notion. Unfortunately, I could not altogether conceal from myself the fact that what sounds there were seemed to come from very much nearer than they had an hour earlier.
Down in the leaflet-strewn square there was feverish activity. Fox-holes were being dug and the two-pounders were being manoeuvred into sandbagged pits so that they could cover the two western approaches to the square. One of the bomb craters was being used as a headquarters, another as an ammunition dump. Sounds from the Ministry of Public Health next door suggested that it, too, was being placed in a state of defence. Immediately below, beside the crater that had flooded the generator room, some men were unloading three-inch mortars from a truck. There were other men sitting on the ground fusing grenades. As far as I could see, there was only one small group of men in the entire square to whom a tank commander would have given a second thought. They were squatting under the
trees, placidly scooping rice out of their bowls with their fingers. Laid out neatly on a groundsheet beside them were two American bazookas.
Someone came into the living room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bow-legged officer turn and then go in quickly. A moment later I recognised Suparto’s voice. There was a lot of firing going on just then and a truck down in the street below was spitting and back-firing as the driver revved it up, so I went back into the bedroom to see if I could hear what he was saying through the door.
It was not much better there. I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was giving orders, but that was all. Then, there was a pause, and I heard steps on the terrace. I had just time to move away from the door before Suparto came in by the window.
He nodded to me and glanced quickly round the room.
“She’s bathing,” I said.
He nodded. “That is as well. I have not much time and what I have to say is private.”
“You might be heard in the next room.”
“For the present, there is no one in the next room. Sanusi is shortly transferring his headquarters there.” He sat down wearily and stretched his legs. His cheekbones stood out sharply and his skin was the colour of parchment. I realised that it was probably three days
since he had slept. His uniform, however, was as neat as ever.
“May I know what’s happening out there?”
“There will be an official statement issued at the first opportunity. Colonel Roda is writing it at this very moment.”
“No jokes, Major, please.”
He smiled. “My apologies. I was indulging myself. The thought of Colonel Roda, whom I greatly dislike, trying bravely to misrepresent a situation which is already hopeless is very enjoyable.”
“Are you sure there’s nobody in there who can hear you?”
“I can see that you are nervous this morning, Mr. Fraser.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I admit that this waiting is disagreeable. As far as I know, the present situation is this. General Ishak’s troops broke through the outer defence positions without difficulty. Some rebel troops, however, were commanded with more skill than he expected. Instead of waiting to be swallowed up, they moved. As a result, General Ishak’s teeth met on nothing, and he will have to take another bite.”
“You said that the situation was already hopeless.”
“It is. The rebels have postponed defeat by a few hours, that is all. They cannot get out now.”
“Does General Sanusi know that?”
“Not yet.” He paused. “That is what I wanted to tell you about, Mr. Fraser. During the next few hours Sanusi is going to discover some very disagreeable facts, and there is going to be a moment when he realises what has happened. He is a misguided man, but not a fool. He will look at the faces of those about him and wonder whom he has to thank for his defeat. He will think back over the past two years and try to remember all that has been said and done, and relate it to the present situation. You understand?”
“Yes, I do.”
“He is not, as I have said, a fool, and it may be that he will come to a correct conclusion. If he does and I am there, he will be looking into my face. In that case, I have no doubt that I could kill him before he killed me, but I would certainly be killed myself a moment later. Do you still understand?”
“I think so. You’ve done your job. You’re getting out.”
He eyed me carefully. For the first time, I felt sorry for him. He was a brave man who had taken nerve-racking risks to serve his country’s government; and although I knew nothing of his motives, I found it hard to believe that personal ambition figured very prominently among them. It was even possible that he was a patriot. But patriot or no, he was not sufficiently insensitive to enjoy that moment of success. It was understandable that he should suspect me of irony.
“You do not seem surprised, Mr. Fraser.”
“Why should I be? You’ve been risking your life because you felt it necessary. Why go on doing so when the need no longer exists?”
“These things cannot always be decided so logically. I ask you to believe me when I say that treachery does not come naturally to me.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t. I said that you were a humane man. But, forgive my asking, why did you take this risk? Supposing Sanusi had succeeded. Would it have been such a disaster? The present Government may have your loyalty, but I cannot believe that it has your approval.”
“Approval? Mr. Fraser, I dislike the Nasjah gang quite as much as I dislike Colonel Roda. Sanusi is right about some things. We did not win our independence from the Dutch. Force of circumstances delivered it into hands which were unfit to receive it. But we do not have hands that
are
fit. Revolution is therefore pointless. What this nation must have is time to learn about government. Meanwhile, we must choose between evils. The Nasjah Government is corrupt and incompetent, and foreigners laugh at us for it. But you have heard Sanusi. He is not himself an evil man. As a commander in the field he is excellent. As a Minister of Propaganda he might perform useful service. But what has he to offer as the leader of the nation? More mosques in Selampang? Excellent. But what else? Only
the discipline of men like Roda, men hungry for power. I prefer the Nasjah gang. They are weak, but with them, at least, the machinery of representative government is preserved and gradual change is possible. In the end, if the Americans and you British do not interfere, there will be fresh, healthy growth. But we must have time and patience.”
“It may not be the Americans and British who do the interfering.”
“Communism? That is your bad dream, not ours. Ah yes, I know. You see the propaganda in the kampongs. But that is all you see, and all there is. If I could believe that among all the ordinary people of Sunda there were enough able and determined men to create one effective district political organisation of any kind, I should be happy.”
“Then I wish you luck, Major. How are you going?”
He stood up. “I shall decide to make a reconnaissance of the situation in the city. Sanusi’s troops are falling back to the centre here and there is a certain amount of confusion. It will not be difficult to walk through their lines. And I am expected.”
“I see. It’s good of you to come and tell me.”
“That was not the only reason I came. Of course, I shall inform the commander of the assaulting forces of your detention here, so that the troops may be warned that you are friendly.”
“Thank you.”
He looked embarrassed. “I cannot promise that it will help you.”
“No, I understand.”
“Also, I had some advice to offer you. This building will probably be shelled. Our naval gunners are not highly skilled, but it is possible that they will score some hits. Unless you are forced to do so, however, do not move down from this floor. You will be safer here in the end. I need not tell you to keep out of Roda’s way if you can. Desperate men are always dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“Have you enough food and water in here?”
“Enough for how long?”
“Until tonight.”
“We could do with some more drinking-water, I think.”
“Come with me.”
I followed him out on to the terrace and through the empty living room to the kitchen.
There were three bottles of water left in the refrigerator.
“Will one bottle be sufficient?”
“I think so.”
“Good. One other thing. It will be better if you dress as a European.”
“I’ve kept some clean clothes specially for the occasion, Major. But it’s a hot day. Do you think I need to wear a tie?”
He gave me a wintry smile. “A sense of humour is an excellent thing at times like these. It helps a man to be philosophical.” There were voices along the corridor outside. “Go back now, Mr. Fraser,” he added, and then turned and walked out quickly. As I went back through the living room, I could hear his voice in the corridor. “Everything is prepared,
Boeng
. Shall I give orders for coffee to be sent to you?”
Rosalie had just returned. She had heard us talking in the kitchen and was eager to know what was going on.
I told her briefly most of what I had learned.
“And it will be ended by tonight?” she asked.
“Apparently.”
We looked at one another in silence for a moment; then she drew a deep breath and nodded.
“So.”
“Yes.” I picked up my towel. “I think that it’s about time I went and shaved.”
T
he shelling of the area around the Van Riebeeck Square began at one o’clock.
For three hours before that, insurgent troops had been straggling back from the forward positions and occupying the block of buildings which included the Air House and the Ministry of Public Health. On my way back from the bathhouse, I had looked over the balustrade and seen two more two-pounders being manhandled through the big doorway of the Air Terminal offices below, and a truck full of wounded being driven in the direction of the Telegraf Road. The only civilians to be seen were children. Some of them stood in awe-struck silence, watching the troops; others, bolder, were playing a war game round a bomb crater and jumping in and out of the fox-holes.
A little after eleven, there were several violent outbursts of firing. They seemed to come from about a mile away to the north. Immediately after the first one,
the telephone in the next room began to ring. During the half-hour that followed, there was scarcely a moment when Sanusi or Roda was not on the telephone; but for most of the time there was such a lot of noise going on outside that, although I could distinguish odd words and sentences, I could not make sense of what was being said. Eventually, Sanusi and Roda went out on to the terrace, and there was a muttered conference over a map. If the bad news was beginning to filter through to them, they clearly did not want their staff inside the room to know too much about it. In the middle of the conference, Roda was called in to the telephone again; but Sanusi remained on the terrace, fidgeting uneasily with the map and staring down into the square. After a minute or two, Roda came back and there was another furtive discussion. Some decision seemed to come out of it, for in the end Sanusi nodded, and the two men turned and walked back inside. A few minutes later the radio was switched on, and I guessed that the staff had been left to their own devices.