The Timor Man (4 page)

The Communists urged the President to move the military from Java to front line encampments. Their logic was that this would be sufficient to cause the opposing forces to collapse quickly once they recognised the might of the Indonesian military. Dr Subandrio, in concert with his fellow party supporters, urged the President also to consider that this action would bring pressure to bear on those commanders whom they considered were shirking their responsibilities.

The President was easily flattered by Dr Subandrio. As Head of State, Soekarno had himself designated as the Great Leader of the Revolution, President for Life, Chief of the Armed Forces and this self-delusion led him to believe that he would, in the future, lead the Non-Aligned Nations and the New Emerging Forces of the Third World. Soekarno would not heed his army generals when they cautioned him against moving his military support to outposts where they would be unable to support the Java Central Command. The generals were gravely concerned. Deliberate delays were instigated to prevent the main stay of the army's elite forces from being moved away from their direct control.

As a colonel in the Indonesian Intelligence, Headquarters Army Command, Department of Defence, Nathan Seda was privy to national secrets of considerable import. Clandestine meetings were often arranged to permit the exchange of secret memoranda to avoid discovery by the Communists. Reports regarding internal security were often passed, read, then burned.

Seda was not entirely at ease with this responsibility. It rested heavily on his shoulders; however he realised that, correctly used, he could develop considerable power through the accumulation of this sensitive information.

Lightning flashed again, this time followed by a crack of thunder that shook the building. Distracted, he checked his wrist watch, a square shaped Lavina which often opted to stop for no mechanical reason he could understand.

It was time to leave. Seda reflected on his immediate problem with transport then instructed the motor pool not to allocate a replacement vehicle for that evening. He elected to catch a
becak
as the three-wheeled contraptions often succeeded where powered vehicles could not.

Securing his desk, Seda strolled out through the old building into the courtyard, past white helmeted security guards and on to
Jalan Merdeka Utara
. There he beckoned towards the multitude of
becak
drivers who, having sighted the colonel leaving the defence building, edged forward calling out for the fare. He selected one and cautiously climbed aboard.

A Russian-built staff vehicle eased into the courtyard as he departed. The occupants appeared agitated. Probably, thought Seda, from the many stops the vehicle would surely have made in getting through the obstacle course that the congested street had now become.

Buses and trucks blocked traffic as passengers attempted to push their transport, often unsuccessfully, to higher ground. Waves created by the few vehicles which moved through the traffic pushed dirty water perilously close to the top of the
becak's
passenger seat. Seda's trousers became wet causing him to shift to protect the contents of his pockets from the wash. In doing so, he slipped forward and, to his and the driver's dismay, fell sideways into the filthy, inundated street.

“
Aduh, Pak
,” the driver called, his eyes wide, anticipating the angry outburst. “
Sialanlu
,” snapped Seda, pulling himself upright, using the
becak
frame for support.

He succeeded in wading to the other side of the flooded road where the water was shallower, cursing the driver for his stupidity, punctuating the vitriolic outburst with easily identifiable finger and thumb movements, while admonishing himself silently for having lost his balance.

He looked down at his trousers and what he saw angered him even more. They were ripped. His feet were wet and his shoes would take days to dry. He stood silently for a few moments forcing his anger to subside. Remembering the cause of his accident, Seda extracted his wallet along with its soggy contents. Four hundred and fifty wet rupiah notes! Angrily he stared at his identification card and passes. All would require replacement.
Aduh
, he thought, this had been one hell of a day. Resigned to the two kilometre walk and determined not to board another
becak,
Seda headed off in the direction of his quarters, brooding over the bad
karma
.

 

The morning summons to report to the director's office had been unexpected. Although Seda was an excellent officer and there was no apparent reason to be alarmed, he still experienced a sense of uneasiness. Despite being self-confident under most circumstances, he knew that this call had to be serious. The director rarely ordered such one-on-one meetings with lieutenant colonels. In fact, Seda had only met the general twice and both occasions were during briefing sessions in the War room. He resisted the temptation to hurry. It would display signs of nervousness.

The First Directorate for Intelligence Operations was at the end of the second wing, secluded in a tight web of security. He approached under the watchful eyes of two KOPASGAT airborne guards. One of them advanced towards him and ushered him directly into an ante-room. The door was closed and locked.

A small desk off to one corner was occupied by a first lieutenant who rose respectfully and offered the Colonel a seat on the hand-carved wooden bench seat. The suite was typical of the decorative carved settees throughout the government offices and, as many a foreign guest had found, they were not designed for long periods of sitting.

The Colonel observed that there were no water stained ceilings here. A hand woven Persian carpet lay spread along side the coffee table upon which had been placed a glass of Java Robusta coffee, covered with the standard aluminium lid to prevent dust and flies from spoiling the cooling thick liquid.

He ignored the offering and continued to pass the time examining the recently printed map which covered half the wall area above the trophy cabinet. The chart indicated that the ocean to the south and west of his country was now named the Indonesian Ocean and that the whole of Borneo and Malaysia bore the same identifying colours as all of the provinces of the Indonesian Republic. Seda resisted the temptation to smile as he was conscious of the young officer's attention.

The General kept him waiting. It was warm in this room. Was it his imagination or did the overhead fan appear to be slowing? He felt the moist droplets forming around his buttocks and then under his arms. The perspiration made him self conscious and a small damp trickle established a line down the centre of his back. He leaned forward, to prevent the sticky drops from saturating his shirt, annoyed that his anxiety would be apparent.

Suddenly the buzzer sounded, startling him. The adjutant rose to his feet to escort him into the general's presence. The large double doors opened into an enormous room. It stretched across ten metres and was at least seven metres deep.

Seda was surprised. He had no idea that such offices were available in the cramped HANKAM complex. He had, in the course of his duties, visited many of the other senior ranking officers' rooms throughout the command but never had he seen an office with such expensive decor. The walls were covered from the floor halfway to the ceilings with polished teak timber panels. The skirting boards were all hand carved as were the joining sections between each panel. The ceiling followed the line of the roof, making the chamber large and impressive, and priceless Dutch colonial lamps were hung in each of the corners. One wall was covered with plaques, pennants and photographs from the general's past military service.

On the opposing wall, a huge Garuda highlighted with gold leaf was positioned overlooking the director's magnificent desk. Directly between its talons, creating an appropriate backdrop to the throne-shaped director's chair, were the words
Bhineka Tunggal Ika
. Unity in Diversity. The Red and White hung on its stand, moving gently to the wisps of artificial breeze blowing from the three, two-horsepower Carrier air-conditioners installed inconspicuously where former windows had been removed.

The imported guest chairs with tanned matching leather seats and chrome tubular steel supports were positioned so that the visitor was obliged to view the general's military memorabilia and photographic record of his achievements. He could feel the authority emanating from the room and its tenant. Seda came to attention directly in front of his superior, saluted smartly, then waited for a response. The door closed softly behind him as the adjutant slipped quietly away.

General Sudomo sat erect in his oversized chair which had been carved to match the front and side panels of the three-metre desk. The impression created was that the man was considerably smaller than normal, perhaps even a dwarf, but Seda knew this not to be the case. He was very aware that it would be dangerous to underestimate the Director, as his reputation for toughness was well known in military circles.

“
Ah Seda
,” Sudomo spoke softly, indicating with a gesture for Seda to be seated. He obeyed. An opened cigarette packet had been carefully positioned in the centre of the glass coffee table. He noticed that the General's ribbon collection, displayed prominently on the left side of his chest, had grown since his last intelligence briefing. Seda made it a practice to notice such things. These small yet colourful bands provided considerable information as to the bearer's past and even current movements and activities. In a world of intrigue and power plays it was imperative to have up-to-date knowledge.

For high-ranking officers like the General, the ribbons were literally decorations. At the last count there were just over four hundred generals in the combined army, navy, air and police forces. Both the new decorations were the elite ‘
Konfrontasi
' ribbons and Seda again felt uneasy at any prospect of his possible posting to an active unit which specialised in border crossings into Malaysia and New Guinea.

Seda had seen intelligence reports before they had been revised for general dissemination. They had indicated that the highly skilled British and Australian troops assisting Malaysia were reducing Indonesia's ‘hero squads' to scattered rabble. He had no desire to be a recipient of these distinguished ‘
Konfrontasi
' ribbons for the majority were awarded posthumously.

“
Kolonel
, I have called you here to discuss a most sensitive intelligence matter,” the General firmly announced, then dropping his voice to an almost inaudible level, continued. “
However, there are some grey areas which must be disposed of before your security grading can be upgraded
.” He paused to light a cigarette.

Seda's palms were now very moist. He was staggered. It was what he had dreaded — a posting to a ‘
Konfrontasi
' unit! He desperately wanted to take one of the cigarettes from the table but knew to do so without one being offered was unthinkable. Instead, he clenched his fists tightly until he could feel the palms aching and then relaxed his grip, permitting the blood to flow freely again.

General Sudomo sat comfortably behind the ornately carved desk observing and enjoying the obvious agitation the Timorese was experiencing. The clinging aroma of the kretek cigarette permeated the stuffy atmosphere within this enormous Javanese sanctum. The general relished the power of his position and had orchestrated the demise of many of his peers from this very office. Now he was one of the few trusted officers close to the President.

He himself claimed to have no political ambitions. He had always believed that the military were the real power and that the day would come when even the over zealous politicians would need the total support of the army to survive their fool-hardy and unworkable efforts to change the inherent character of the peasant class.

Born in the heart of Central Java in a small village not far from the historic Borobudur temple, this son of a peasant farmer had once idolised the man who had become the nation's leader. Politically naive, Sudomo had followed Soekarno's leadership without question, as so many others had over the past twenty years.

He had learned to read at the village
Sekolah Dasar
. He could speak a little of the difficult Dutch language, but preferred communicating in his native dialect, Javanese. Even the national language,
Bahasa Indonesia
, did not flow fluently from his lips.

Although poorly educated, his rapid rise in rank was directly related to his ability to understand and overcome opposition. Prior to receiving his first star he had, in fact, met the President only twice. The first meeting was in Semarang when the
Bapak
, as he was often referred to, visited the local military command to introduce Dr Subandrio's latest innovation, a cadre force of women soldiers. These turned out to be a supply of Sundanese prostitutes for the
Bapak's
private use. These women would follow their leader from town to town ready at all times to provide the President with the creature comforts he so obviously enjoyed when away from the Palace.