The Timor Man (57 page)

He had been concerned as he knew that Seda would have been displeased with further attention being drawn to his already high profile partner. All in all, he thought, everyone got what they wanted. He tried to sleep but there were too many thoughts waiting to disrupt his attempts. He had many things on his mind.

Like Seda. And the incredible volume of shipments that had already been dispatched to assist the Indonesian military with the Timor problem.

The city became quieter and only the occasional bell could be heard as the
becaks
passed. Coleman finally fell into a fitful sleep, just hours before being woken again by Sukardi.

The following morning, on the eleventh of December, the Indonesian Armed Forces invaded East Timor.

   
With incredible speed, the Indonesian military machine moved across the border into East Timor. The Indonesian losses remained excessively high. The guerrillas continued to resist the larger force and inflicted tremendous casualties. But not without their own terrible sacrifices. In spite of their losses, the Timorese were jubilant.

Central Command in Jakarta had predicted that the excursion, as one general had jokingly described the invasion, would be completed within one week and would possibly only require another fortnight of mopping-up operations to round up the terrorists. Their intelligence had been incredibly inaccurate. During the first three days Indonesian casualties reached three thousand and the communication lines between the field and command headquarters ran continuously hot. Each time the crack Indonesian troops mounted an attack, they were rebuffed almost easily.

The Siliwangi Division suffered severe losses as well. Never in the history of this elite division had its troops been routed. The soldiers were young and experienced primarily in riot control support and other training exercises aimed mainly at assisting the police during civil unrest. They had never had to face a real enemy before! One or two of the older soldiers had seen action during engagements in Sarawak during the
Konfrontasi
era, but their numbers were insufficient to withstand the surprisingly superior soldiers confronting them in the Timor jungles.

Air support had been practically useless due to the dense terrain. Ground fire had already accounted for six of their helicopters, and the AURI Commander had insisted on grounding his remaining squadron until the infantry could guarantee adequate support in the hostile areas. He also insisted that the intelligence at least attempt to be more accurate when determining targets and requested a few sorties with reduced risk to those they had already encountered, as morale amongst his crews was dangerously low.

One hundred KOPASGAT airborne had been dropped at the eastern ridge, leading to what had been identified as an Indonesian Siliwangi position. The severity of the ground fire reduced their number within seconds to but a few before any of the parachutists realized their predicament.

Many died in the air, their bullet riddled bodies floating aimlessly to the ground. Within twenty-seven minutes from the jump command all but six of the commandos had died. Five of the remaining men had been captured. And tortured. An uncaptured soldier looked on in horror from his hiding place in the undergrowth as the guerrillas gouged out the eyes of his comrades, laughing as they worked their disgusting torture on the young soldiers. He was overcome with paralysing fear.

The concealed corporal shook in terror praying that
Allah
would guard over him in his moment of need. He struggled to keep the bile from rising in his throat and discovered, much to his dismay, he had fouled himself through fear. He wanted to rush out and help his comrades but his legs were frozen and he couldn't breathe. Holding his breath, the soldier willed the enemy to leave, too scared to run and too frightened to fight. He waited, engulfed by the terror around him.

As he hid amidst the thick grass he closed his eyes, hoping this would help disguise his presence as sounds of the enemy passed ever so close to where he had hidden. Ants poured over his body examining their potential meal, the bites painfully working their way along his legs towards his groin. He prayed for the strength not to cry out as the carnivorous insects covered his body.

It seemed as if hours had passed when the camouflaged NCO tensed as he noticed one of the enemy turn and look directly in his direction. The guerrilla's features were vastly different from those of the other Timorese he had known. This man was heavily bearded and his eyes were light steel blue! He barked an order and immediately the band ceased their ghoulish activities.

“Leave them!” he demanded. “Their condition may act as a deterrent to their comrades.” As he spoke, several others similar in appearance moved to his side.

These men were obviously not indigenous Timorese, the astonished corporal concluded. It was apparent from their manner that they were in command of the band which now commenced moving silently away from the tortured soldiers still screaming from pain. One of the wounded managed to struggle to his feet, only to fall down again. He rose once more, holding his hands to his head, covering the gaping holes where his eyes had been minutes before, and screamed a curse at his captors.

“
Djahanam! Djahanam!
” he cried aloud with the pain, “
mampus kamu kalian!
” and again fell to his knees, sobbing with distress at having been deserted by
Allah
, the One and Only True God.

The Cuban turned and walked to the side of the young Sundanese. His hand moved swiftly, extracting the self sharpening commando knife from its sheath, which he placed directly under the wounded man's left ear. The blinded soldier recognized the sound. He had heard it before. Immediately the brave young man ceased yelling his invective at the unseen enemy. He sat motionless, his body leaning forward slightly over his knees, the cold steel blade touching his skin lightly. He realized that the weapon would end his life.

This was his
ajal
, his predestined moment of death and, as with all faithful Moslem followers, he believed that this moment was determined at birth with the commencement of one's life. He lifted his head in a gesture of acceptance of his fate. The Cuban misinterpreted the gesture as one of defiance. The blade moved swiftly and the soldier felt the beginning of the stroke and the flow of blood simultaneously. He didn't scream.

His ear fell to the ground - but he was still alive! His bladder opened and he fell forward, sobbing with fear and shame. The Cubans laughed and, at the leader's command, the band of Timorese followed the foreign killers back into the dense jungle.

Corporal Budiman waited until he was certain that they had not left one of their number behind to lay
ranjau
, the dreaded antipersonnel mines. Convinced that he was safe to venture out from his concealment, the NCO cautiously approached the Sundanese, who now lay groaning softly in prayer. The wounded man stiffened as he heard the footsteps approach.

“
Sudahlah, dong! Bunuh sajalah aku!
” the commando pleaded, seeking a quick end to his agony. “
Diam, diam!
” the corporal whispered urgently, “
Aku Budiman. Diam dulu, dik!
” the soldier whispered hoarsely to his comrade, consoling the man while identifying himself.

Quickly he checked the others. Two would die, he could see from the wounds and he was not certain how to provide emergency care for the others. He located several of his fallen comrades and, tearing strips from their clothes, he commenced applying makeshift bandages to the disgusting head wounds the tortured men had suffered. Satisfied there was little else he could accomplish, Budiman went in search of the communications soldier to establish contact with his base Commander.

It was hopeless. There were bodies everywhere. But no radioman. He searched for half an hour and decided to use distress flares instead. These he fired and then settled down amongst the wounded to await assistance. Throughout the night he was terrified each time there was a sound. Any sound. He feared the return of the strange looking soldiers who had butchered his comrades. As the moon disappeared, only to be replaced by the morning sun, he sat alone, praying for forgiveness of his past sins.

The following afternoon two platoons of infantry arrived. They were accompanied by several officers from the ill-fated paratroops' regiment. By then, all but two of the original eighty-nine paratroopers had died from torture, shock or were unlucky enough to lose their lives even before their parachutes could lower them safely to the ground. Many of these remained hung in their harness, held aloft by the trees which had caught the unfortunate men, providing the enemy with easy targets.

Corporal Budiman helped the fearless Sundanese soldier to his feet and put his arms around the shorter man.

“
You are a very brave soldier,
” he whispered, “
may Allah go with you and protect you
.”

The wounded man groped at the corporal and, in his anguish cried, “
Where was Allah when we needed him?
” and broke into sobs, while his fists clenched in anger.

“
We will take Allah's revenge on those animals, Mas. This I, Budiman, swear to you
.”

“
Budi, Budi,” the wounded man cried, “they have taken my sight!
”

“
I know, Mas, but they will pay for their atrocities, this is my promise to you
.”

“
Kill them all, Budi, kill them all!
” the man sobbed.

“
We will. We will find them and kill them all
!” he promised the now semi-conscious soldier as he slowly passed into a deeper state of shock and, finally, the soft world of oblivion.

Budiman sat for a while holding the dead man's hand until it was time to go. The young officer who headed the platoon ordered the bodies stacked side by side and advised his command centre of the final body count. There were too many to bury.

They merely collected the dog tags and placed these in one knapsack beside the body of the Siliwangi Colonel who had died in his parachute without having fired a shot. His magazine was still full. Acting
Kapten,
Bambang took the machine pistol and discharged the weapon into the air. Surprised, the junior Lieutenant turned towards the Javanese with a quizzical expression on his baby face.

“
The Bapak Kolonel's weapon had jammed,
” he lied, placing the light machine pistol beside the officer's body.

 

When he first arrived at the scene of the massacre, Bambang could not believe his eyes. The company had virtually been wiped out to a man. As he walked around checking the bodies, the shock of what he was witnessing prevented him from feeling any other emotion but anger over the mutilated bodies left by the Timorese butchers. He had been ordered to hunt for the guerrillas responsible for the massacre.

Bambang told the terrified Budiman to accompany them on the search and destroy mission. Although the Corporal could not identify the strange and brutal foreigners he had observed, headquarters assumed that these were remnants of the Portuguese garrison now fighting alongside the FRETILIN guerrillas. They had been instructed to eradicate these killers. The members of Bambang's platoon, relatively inexperienced in any type of warfare, were nervous when informed of the objective of their mission.

The Cuban officer had indeed been clever. The tortured bodies of their comrades acted as a deterrent to the Indonesians, and already some were completely rattled by the demoralizing scene they had come upon just hours before.

The Captain was aware that many of his men had been intimidated by the mutilated bodies. Most were Moslem and their sect specifically forbade such disfigurement. Even the young Javanese officer had difficulty maintaining his composure when he discovered the eyeless corpses. Although a soldier, Bambang was disgusted by the torture his countrymen had suffered and undertook to deal harshly with the guerrillas when they eventually located them.

He was convinced that they would have a bloody fight when they met. However he was also confident that they would be successful, as his men were already on the ground and could not therefore suffer the same fate as the parachutists who hadn't been given the opportunity to fight. The initial problem the officer was faced with was to determine the whereabouts of the guerrilla band. It was unlikely that he would obtain any local support as the hill tribes disliked the lowlanders and feared the Indonesians from the other islands.

The Moslem faith had a scattered following. The Timorese had developed their own animist practices and ancestral and other spirits were worshipped by all. These people believed that life was a transferable spirit and, consequently, heads were taken in war. The Japanese had learnt that the hard way.

The young Captain shuddered uncomfortably. Warfare had been endemic amongst the various tribes throughout both the Portuguese and Dutch areas of Timor. Villagers built stockades around their houses, which were raised on piles providing additional protection from marauding bandits. He decided to avoid contact with the local hill people.