REPORT FROM BANARAN: EXPERIENCES DURING
THE PEOPLE’S WAR
T. B. Simatupang
X	Translated by Benedict Anderson and Elizabeth Graves
With an Introduction by John R. W. Smail
TRANSLATION SERIES
Modern Indonesia Project
Southeast Asia Program
Cornell University
Ithaca, New York
1972
No. 55
Price — $6.50
SEAP Publications $ 55
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640 Stewart AvenueREPORT FROM BANARAN:	EXPERIENCES DURING
THE PEOPLE'S WAR
T. B. Simatupang
Translated by Benedict Anderson and Elizabeth Graves
With an Introduction by John R. W. Smail
TRANSLATION SERIES
(Publication No. 55)
Modern Indonesia Project
Southeast Asia Program
Cornell University
Ithaca, New York
1972©	1972 by the Cornell Modern Indonesia ProjectTABLE OF CONTENTS
Page
Introduction by John R. W. Smail................................. 1
Preface.............................................................. 11
Introduction:	Kudadu	and	Banaran ............................ 12
Chapter
I.	December 19, 1948 ......................................... 14
II.	With the Siliwangi Division................................ 28
III.	Turn of the Year........................................... 38
IV.	Banaran.................................................... 50
V.	Wandering through Java..................................... 63
VI.	Preparations Pending Negotiations ......................... 91
VII.	The Rum-van Royen Agreement ............................... 99
VIII.	General Report from Banaran:	Developments
since December	19, 1948 ............................... 113
IX.	Return to Jogjakarta...................................... 139
X.	Pak Dirman Arrives........................................ 146
XI.	Tracd Baru................................................ 161
XII.	Report from New Delhi..................................... 168
XIII.	Report from The Hague..................................... 171
Conclusion:	Mataraman and No. 56, Pegangsaan Timur ............. 183
Index to Biographical	Footnotes .................................... 185
MAPS
Java after the Renville Agreement ............................. .	8
The View from Banaran......................................... .	10
Simatupang's Travels December 19, 1948 - January 12, 1949 ...	42
Simatupang's Travels February 25 - March 31, 1949 ............... 73
Sudirman's Travels December 19, 1948 - April 1, 1949 ............ 154
iiiT. B. SimatupangINTRODUCTION
The Indonesian Revolution (1945-1950) was the occasion by which
Indonesia achieved political independence. But the way in which this
common twentieth century event came about, in the general violence and
exaltation of a true revolution, made it far more important than that.
Like the Mexican, Russian, Chinese and Vietnamese revolutions, the In-
donesian Revolution has been the central event in its country's whole
modern history. For this reason, any addition to the small stock of
good English-language writings on the Revolution, like Report from
Banaran, is doubly welcome, not only for what it can tell us about the
event itself but also for what it can tell us about the Indonesian con-
dition in modern times. General Simatupang--a Christian Batak with a
Dutch education who helped lead a guerrilla war in the Javanese coun-
tryside, a man who while still in his twenties was simultaneously one
of the principal founders of the Indonesian army and one of the key
figures in four years of diplomatic negotiations with the Dutch--is
well qualified by background and experience for his subject.
Two short periods stand out in the history of the Indonesian Revo-
lution:	its first great explosion between August 1945 and mid-1946,
and its climax--which is the main subject of Report from Banaran--be-
tween December 1948 and July 1949. The first set its stamp on the
whole. The sudden surrender of the Japanese on August 15, 1945 created
an immediate vacuum of power which neither the British (acting for the
victorious Allies), nor the Dutch, nor the Republic, hastily proclaimed
on August 17, could possibly fill. Out of the void emerged the most
powerful single force of the ensuing Revolution, a mass movement of
pemuda (youths) caught up in a fervent Indonesian nationalism and com-
mitted to an uncompromising perdjuangan (struggle) for freedom. Abso-
lute idealism led naturally to violence, first against Japanese posts
and British occupying forces, then to a more general assault on social
groups privileged under the old Netherlands Indies order:	Chinese,
Eurasians, Christian Ambonese, traditional elites, and village and clan
leaders through most of Sumatra and Java.
The enormous energies of the pemuda movement--only later partly
channeled into the institutional form of the Indonesian army> itself
built from the bottom up by pemuda--were what made the Indonesian Revo-
lution a true revolution, a social upheaval, and not simply a case of
decolonization. From the beginning, however, the upper-level politics
of the Revolution were conducted as a diplomatic contest between two
much smaller groups, the Dutch and the Indonesian civilian nationalist
elite. The key to this contest was the comparative weakness of both
parties. The prewar nationalist elite, led by Sukarno and Hatta, which
founded the Republic in August 1945, rode precariously on the tide of
pemuda militancy, in the early months generally unable to stem the pre-
vailing anarchy and later never fully in control of the pemuda army.
For the most part rather conservative in its goals and in any case not
at all willing to take second place in a pemuda-led perdjuangan, the
elite preferred diplomasi, an effort to obtain independence by negoti-
ating with the Dutch and by gaining the support of world opinion.
Diplomasi was the direct opposite of perdjuangan and became the most
emotion-laden issue in the internal politics of Indonesia during the
12
Revolution. Every cabinet that fell during those years did so mainly
because of the diplomasi issue; every new cabinet, whatever its politi-
cal party make-up, carried on as best it could with the same basic
policy.
The Dutch, for their part, suffered from the aftereffects of the
German occupation and, more fundamentally, from the vast disproportion
between the size of their homeland and that of the colony they hoped to
regain. In these circumstances they followed a cautious step-by-step
policy of building up a series of "federal" states, based politically
on local aristocracies and minorities frightened by the pemuda revolu-
tion, in the areas outside the Republican heartlands of Central Java
and Central and North Sumatra. This required some political conces-
sions to the federalists, as they were usually called, but the colonial
government could hope to control this congeries of member-states and
use them to enclose and eventually bring to heel or snuff out a shrunk-
en Republic. Meanwhile, like their counterparts in the Republican
leadership, the Dutch were ready to negotiate and were consistently
very sensitive to world opinion.
The main feature of the middle years of the Revolution, from mid-
1946 to late 1948, was the steadily increasing pressure exerted by the
Dutch. As Holland recovered, the Dutch gradually built up their armed
forces in Indonesia and began to exploit their greater organizational
efficiency and economic resources. The result was an oddly regular
alternation of negotiated agreements and military clashes, each one
more disastrous for the Republic. First came the Linggadjati Agreement
(initialled November 1946, ratified March 1947), a compromise reached
under British mediation but satisfactory to neither party, which pro-
vided for a three-state Indonesian federation, with the Republic as
one member, quite closely linked to Holland. In July 1947 the swift
successes of the first Dutch "police action," as they called it, showed
that the pemuda army could do no better than the politicians' diplo-
masi. In the ten days before the UN intervened with a ceasefire reso-
lution, the Dutch seized the economically important areas of East and
South Sumatra and East and West Java. These conquests were then rati-
fied by the Renville Agreement of January 1948, mediated by the UN, in
exchange for an ambiguous commitment to a national plebiscite (which
was never held). Finally, after the Madiun Affair of September 1948,
a brief but bitter civil war in central Java between communist and
anti-communist Indonesian forces, the Dutch launched their second
"police action" in December 1948.
By the logic of this progression the second "police action" should
have ended the story with the extinction of the Republic. For a time,
indeed, it seemed to have done so. The Dutch quickly took control of
almost all towns and roads in the territory of the already much dimin-
ished Republic, captured Sukarno and Hatta and many other political
leaders, and prepared to present their final fait accompli for inter-
national ratification. But instead,the climax brought paradox, sudden
and cruel to the Dutch and many among those who had cooperated with
them. Tactical triumph could not disguise their wholly inadequate re-
sources, the Indonesian army began a guerrilla war planned for since
the first "police action" and soon showed that it could never be over-
come. The UN and especially the United States now turned against the
Dutch who were forced quickly to a volte-face. The imprisoned Republi-
can leaders were ready as ever for diplomasi. A final round of
negotiations, marked by the Rum-van Royen Agreement of May 7 and the
Agreement of June 22, was sealed by the formal restoration of the Re-
publican government to its capital in Jogjakarta on July 6. In effect3
the Dutch had committed themselves to complete independence for Indo-
nesia, though on rather favorable economic terms, and to a federation
in which the original Republic was to be a single pre-eminent member
state among sixteen.
The last climactic months between December 1948 and July 1949 were
a perfect complement to the first crucial months of the Revolution, a
period in which the major issues established in the former were brought
to swift and dramatic resolution. What followed before the story was
closed--the Hague Agreement on November 2, formal transfer of sover-
eignty on December 27, the collapse of the Dutch-made federal states
in the early part of 1950, and formal restoration of the original uni-
tary Republic on August 17, 1950--was denouement, the working out in
detail of what had been determined in its essentials by mid-1949.
The same months were the climax of the Revolution in its domestic
as well as its international aspect. Domestically, too, it was a time
of sudden and paradoxical shifts of fortune which swiftly resolved many
of the major issues established at the outset of the Revolution. The
federalists, numbers of whom had Republican sympathies, felt the in-
creasing pressure of guerrilla activity in areas long secure for them
and saw their indispensable bulwark of Dutch support melting away. By
February 1949 many were in full swing toward the Republic, pinning
their hopes on similarly-minded groups and old associates among the
nationalist elite. By mid-year most of the federal states were in com-
plete disarray and the bulk of the federalists had come in principle
to terms with the Republican leadership. The Inter-Indonesian Confer-
ences of late July and August, whose crucial provisions reflected con-
cessions by the federalists, and the liquidation of the federal states
in the course of the following year only ratified this basic settle-
ment .
The pemuda movement, by this time more or less effectively ab-
sorbed into the army, was struck by a more surprising and painful para-
dox. After December 19, with the bulk of the civilian leadership cap-
tured, the rest scattered and ineffective, and the Dutch everywhere,
the main hope of the cause at last seemed to rest on an army-led
guerrilla movement, the all-out perdjuangan that they had always longed
for but never really had a chance to try. This they proceeded to do,
not only in what had been Republican areas in December but in most of
the federal areas of Java and Sumatra as well, and with considerable
and growing success. Yet within a month or two, as the imprisoned
civilian leaders launched their last round of diplomasi, army men and
pemuda generally began to see the fruits of success--both for their
long-cherished ideology and for their potential claim to national
leadership--slip between their fingers. The Rum-van Royen Agreement
of May 7 showed only too clearly what was happening; the negotiated
restoration of the Republican government to Jogjakarta on July 6 all
but settled the issue. When the ever-independent army commander Gen-
eral Sudirman-- the one man who could have refused to accept the nego-
tiated settlement and led the pemuda back to a final war against the
Dutch--returned from his guerrilla base to Jogjakarta on July 10 and
called on Sukarno and Hatta before reviewing his troops, diplomasi won
its final triumph. It was an empty meeting--they talked of the weather
--but a moving occasion, as the well-known statue of Sudirman in the
old army overcoat he wore that day testifies. It marked the end of
perdjuangan and a subordination of the pemuda army to civilian leader-
ship that endured for a decade or more.4
As for the civilian leaders, they pulled off their greatest polit-
ical coup from inside Dutch jails. Within six months of their capture
they had in effect not only edged the Dutch out of Indonesia but had
also drawn both federalists and pemuda under their wing as leaders of
what was soon to be the fifth largest nation in the world.
Report from Banaran deals with this second decisive phase of the
Revolution. It opens with the beginning of the "police action" ("second
war of independence") on December 19, 1948 and in Chapter X reaches its
climax with a description of the return of General Sudirman to Jogja-
karta on July 10, 1949. The last three chapters pass quickly by the
anti-climactic events of the second half of 1949. It is the first
full-length book in any language devoted to the oddly-neglected climax
of the Revolution.
General (then Colonel) Simatupang was well placed to observe the
events of this period. As de facto Deputy Chief of Staff of the Armed
Forces, specializing in high-level liaison between the army and the
civilian leadership, he had a good deal to do with nurturing the guer-
rilla movement and at the same time played a part in many of the major
negotiations of the time. About a third of the book consists of the
texts of important contemporary letters and reports-- including his own
"Report from Banaran" of June 19, 1949--most of which are published
here for the first time. One can therefore gladly read this book for
the high-level inside information which it contains. On one subject
at least, military-civilian relations inside the Republic, it is ex-
tremely valuable in just this way.
But the reader who merely quarries the book in this spirit will
be cheating himself. The bold literary stroke in the title Simatupang
has chosen shows us from what perspective his book is to be read:	it
is from Banaran, the hamlet near Jogjakarta where he had his base dur-
ing the guerrilla campaign of early 1949. Report from Banaran is
written by one who was a twenty-nine year old colonel in that year and
who can write in his Preface, "For us, the Generation of the Proclama-
tion [of Independence], the war of independence was not merely an his-
torical event. For us, it was an experience which determined the whole
course of our lives." Finally it is from an individual, that is, it
is an autobiography, with all that this implies. Vantage point is
what is decisive here. Historical events, like mountains, must be
seen from many angles to be properly appreciated. Report from Banaran
gives us a new view.
The view is from Banaran because Simatupang spends almost three-
quarters of the book in that hamlet or walking through the nearby coun-
tryside of Central Java on various missions. There rises very natural-
ly out of this narrative a persistent rural-urban theme. At times he
renders this in a mildly sentimental vein:	he describes life in Bana-
ran and this summons up memories of life in his family village in Tapa-
nuli; he relishes for the first time in years the pleasure of walking
barefoot along muddy paths; he rediscovers with surprise and nostalgia
the immense silent peasant mass which is ordinarily so completely for-
gotten by educated urban Indonesians. He records the influence of
prophecies and old tales on ordinary Javanese. He shows in various
ways how the strength of General Sudirman rested on his natural bent
for speaking directly to the folk mind (he insisted on making his re-5
entry into Jogjakarta in peasant clothing rather than a general's
uniform). From time to time he suggests the sociological signifi-
cance of his theme:	"In only two days [after retreating to the coun-
tryside] our whole conception of the meaning of roads, towns, and
mountains had changed completely. While we were in the towns we really
paid attention only to the towns and the roads connecting them; we
hardly ever thought about the areas to the right and left of these
roads, or about the mountain regions" (p. 33). Reading the many such
passages in which the rural-urban theme is touched on, one is drawn on
to explore its rich implications for the history of the Revolution.
The Indonesian "we" who could earlier see only the towns and the roads
connecting them were in one sense the direct heirs--not the antithesis
--of the colonial Dutch who soon after, during the guerrilla war, could
likewise see only towns and roads. It was not chance, either, that
during the Revolution the normal expression for going over to the Dutch
was masuk kota (entering town), nor incidental that the civilian lead-
ers of the Republic were quite incapable of leading a rural guerrilla
movement. The rural-urban theme which Simatupang develops is sugges-
tive rather than substantial; he is sensitive to milieu and has a fine
historical instinct but he is too deeply involved in national affairs
and too urban himself to want to write peasant history. But by placing
himself in Banaran and looking outward from there he reminds us that
the history of the Revolution has hitherto been seen almost exclusively
from the urban, and elite, point of view.
It is the second aspect of Simatupang's vantage point, the army
and pemuda view, that is most important in Report. This perspective,
like the rural-urban theme, rises naturally from the way he has chosen
to write his book. It is nonetheless striking how thoroughly it per-
meates what he is saying, and how different the events of the period
look when seen from that side. One way to check this is to notice who
the word "we" refers to when it appears in his text. Sometimes it re-
fers to his small band of companions in Banaran, more often to Repub-
licans in general. At least as often, however, it refers to we, the
army, as distinguished from the civilian politicians (the "Bangka/Dja-
karta group"). Often, too, the latter cases occur in the more anxious
or rueful passages, where Simatupang's feelings are showing through
most strongly (". .	. we could not reject the Rum-van Royen Agree-
ment .") .
Another way in which Simatupang's perspective shows up most clear-
ly is his treatment of certain topics. Chapter X, in which Sudirman
returns to Jogjakarta, is the dramatic climax of the book for various
reasons. For one thing no one was quite sure until the last minute
that Sudirman was going to accept the predominance of Sukarno and Hatta
(see, for an example of the intensity of Sudirman's opinions slightly
earlier, his Message of May 1, pp. 103-104). Also Sudirman was living
on borrowed time (he died of tuberculosis in January 1950) and this
added adventitiously to the pathos of the occasion. But beyond that
Simatupang is recreating the tragic mood which that day, almost a day
of surrender, evoked in nearly all army men at the time. Likewise, his
noticeably cursory treatment of the face-saving rituals enacted shortly
after Sudirman's return to Jogjakarta suggests how hollow these seemed
to him. Finally it is striking how small a proportion of the book he
devotes to the tremendously busy months from July to December--in
which, moreover, he personally played a more direct and publicly prom-
inent role than in those of the first half of the year--and how flatly
these chapters read when compared to the earlier ones. As historian6
and major participant he describes those diplomatic events, but his
heart is clearly in the guerrilla days at Banaran and the poignancy of
the army's political eclipse at the height of its success.
All this is particularly impressive if one keeps in mind that
Simatupang himself--by virtue of his education, exclusively staff ca-
reer, and specialization in political liaison--was hardly a typical
pemuda or army man. He was, after all, a key figure in the diplomasi
of the Republic almost from the beginning, and he had much in common
with the somewhat older political leaders, Dutch-speakers like himself.
(It is a measure of his sensitivity and his value to the Republic, how-
ever, that he had so close a personal as well as professional relation-
ship with General Sudirman, an utterly different kind of man.) It is
clear, too, from his book that he saw the coming success of civilian
diplomasi early and clearly, and worked hard to forestall the danger
of a serious break between the army and the government (see, for one
example, his report of May 15, especially the last section, pp. 104-107).
Reading between the lines (pp. 106-107) one can imagine the efforts he
was making as he rode into Jogjakarta with General Sudirman on July 10
to make sure that the latter would not break openly with Sukarno and
Hatta.
Nevertheless, the strength of those old army feelings of 1949
comes through clearly in Report. The view is especially valuable be-
cause, while we have a number of works which give a good picture of
the first major phase of the Revolution from a pemuda point of view,
there is no other full-length work besides Report that satisfactorily
conveys a pemuda view of the climactic phase in 1949.
Report, finally, gives a different view because it is autobio-
graphical. In some ways this makes things rather difficult for the
reader. Since Simatupang spends almost three-quarters of the book in
Banaran and in the nearby countryside, and since he sticks quite close-
ly to his expressed purpose of recording only what he experienced him-
self, we are compelled to share his restricted vision of what was going
on in the larger world outside the hamlet during those months. It is
frustrating at times to catch only glimpses of the important negotia-
tions in Djakarta, Bangka and elsewhere, and one sometimes feels that
one has lost track of the main course of events. But at the same time
it is a salutary experience. Guerrillas everywhere live in perpetual
twilight. More generally, one all too easily forgets that researched
history is an artifact, that in history, as it is experienced, everyone
perceives events imperfectly, incompletely, and day by day, without
knowing what is coming next. No other substantial work on the Revolu-
tion brings home this indispensable truth so sharply.
There is another contribution which the personal view of this
book can make. The Indonesian Revolution is the pivot on which modern
Indonesian history has turned. With its prelude, the Japanese occupa-
tion, it was a dark time of cruelty and suffering between the Indian
summer of Dutch rule in the late 1930's and the hopeful years of con-
stitutional democracy in the early 1950's; it was equally a time of
exaltation and high idealism. In this period change ran faster, deep-
er, and more turbulently than in ordinary times. The Revolution
stamped a whole generation, Simatupang's "Generation of the Proclama-
tion," with its special mark; it changed the quality of life for all
Indonesians then and since. Such events cannot be comprehended fully
unless one takes every opportunity to try to see them from the inside.7
Report from Banaran-- like Simatupang himself, calm, rational, moderate
--is written from the eye of that tremendous storm.
John R. W. Smail
Madison, Wisconsin
July, 1972JAVA AFTER THE
RENVILLE AGREEMENT
anjuwangj
shaded areas equal
Republican territoryREPORT FROM BANARAN
by
T. B. Simatupang
9THE VIEW FROM BANARAN
•Qjilatjap
INDIAN OCEAN
•PatjitanPREFACE
In this book no effort has been made to write a complete history
of our war of independence.
For us, the Generation of the Proclamation [of Independence], the
war of independence was not merely an historical event. For us, it was
an experience which determined the whole course of our lives.
Based on notes made by the author during an important period of
the war of independence--that from the fall of Jogjakarta on December
19, 1948 up to the ceremony of the recognition of sovereignty in Dja-
karta on December 27, 1949--this book describes only those events
directly experienced by the author himself.
The author would like to thank Captain E. W. Sinaulan and the
Secretariat of the Joint Chiefs of Staff for their help in the prepara-
tion of this book.
Djakarta, July 21, 1959
It is with gratitude that the author acknowledges the suggestions,
assistance, and concern with regard to the manuscript of this book af-
forded by the late Mrs. Suwasti Pardede, Chief of the Planning and
Editing Division of Pembangunan Ltd.
Djakarta, March 17, 1960
Note from the Translators:	The translation which follows is based on the first edi-
tion of T. B. Simatupang's memoirs, which was published in 1960 under the title
Laporan dari Banaran: Kisah Pengalaman Seorang Pradjurit Selama Perang Kemerdekaan
by P. T. Pembangunan of Djakarta. The text itself accords with the original version;
the translators have provided additional information in the form of explanatory foot-
notes and maps. Where available, biographical information has been given on the pre-
1950 careers of the figures mentioned in the text and an index to these biographical
footnotes has been provided. The spelling of proper names has been changed to con-
form with current Indonesian practice. The help of T. B. Simatupang and Nugroho
Notosusanto in providing biographical information is gratefully acknowledged, but
the translators accept all responsibility for any errors which may occur in the
footnotes.
11INTRODUCTION:	KUDADU AND BANARAN
In 1292, King Djajakatwang of Kadiri considered the time ripe to
take revenge on Emperor Kertanegara of Singosari, since a major part of
the Emperor's army had been sent to the island of Andalas [Sumatra] on
an expedition called "Operation Pamalaju." As a small troop from Ka-
diri approached the northern gate of the capital city of Singosari,
Commander-in-Chief Radbn Widjaja advanced with his warriors to crush
the rebellious enemy. But, all of a sudden, a larger force of Kadiri
troops appeared at the southern gate of the capital. They entered the
empty, defenseless city and Emperor Kertanegara fell inside his own
palace. To save himself, Raden Widjaja was forced to flee together
with a few loyal followers. They swam across the Brantas River and
were warmly welcomed in the village of Kudadu by the people and the
village chief. Later on, when Rad§n Widjaja became the first ruler of
the Empire of Madjapahit under the honorific name of Kertaradjasa Dja-
jawardhana, he erected an inscribed monument in the village of Kudadu,
and as a token of gratitude the people of Kudadu and their descendants
were exempted from paying taxes by His Majesty the Emperor.
On December 19, 1948, the Dutch considered the time ripe to crush
the Republic of Indonesia, since they calculated that its strength had
been exhausted by the recent Madiun Rebellion. The Dutch Commander-in-
Chief therefore landed his troops by air at Maguwo airfield, and on
that same day Ngajogyakartahadiningrat, the capital of the Republic of
Indonesia, fell into their hands. Panglima Besar Sudirman managed to
escape from the city together with his troops, and they were warmly
welcomed by the people in the villages.1 It was indeed these villages
which became the bases for the people's war waged for several months
against the Dutch troops.
The author himself, after leaving the capital, crossed the Progo
River on a raft and lived for several months among the people of Bana-
ran, a hamlet in the village of Bandjarsari, Samigaluh District, Kulon-
progo Regency, Jogjakarta Special Region. Whereas Radbn Widjaja, after
becoming the sovereign of the Empire of Madjapahit, showed his grati-
tude to the people of Kudadu by erecting a monument and by exempting
them and their descendants from paying taxes, the author can only com-
pose this humble book, calling it "Report from Banaran" as a token of
gratitude to the hospitable and generous people of Banaran.
The term Panglima Besar has not been translated as Commander-in-Chief because
the English would not convey the traditional resonances of the Indonesian, which re-
fers back to a high military title of the pre-colonial period. General Sudirman was
born near Rembang, Central Java, probably in 1915. In the late colonial period, he
worked as a teacher in a Muhammadijah secondary school. During the occupation, he
enrolled in the Japanese-sponsored Peta (Fatherland Defense Force) army, formed in
1943. After the Revolution broke out in 1945, he became Commander of the Fifth Divi-
sion of the Indonesian National Army, in Banjumas. On November 12, 1945, he was
elected by his fellow divisional commanders and other senior military men to the
position of Panglima Besar.
1213
For the author, the name Banaran has become a symbol of the tens
of thousands of villages in our country which served as bases for the
people’s war during the war of independence. Will these villages be
able to enjoy progress and prosperity now that Indonesia’s independence
and sovereignty have received international recognition?CHAPTER I
DECEMBER 19, 1948
The events of December 19, 1948 in Jogjakarta undeniably represent
an historic episode. Let me note here my experiences on that day and
those preceding it.
At that time, I held the post of Second Deputy to the Chief of
Staff of the Armed Forces. The Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces was
Pak Dirman,1 who was concurrently Panglima Besar of the Armed Forces.
His first deputy was Col. Hidajat2 who for several months had been on
duty in Sumatra as Sumatra Army and Territory Commander. Consequently,
I carried on the functions of Deputy Chief of Staff.
There were two Commands under Pak Dirman as Panglima Besar:	the
Sumatra Command under Col. Hidajat and the Java Command under Col.
Nasution.3 The headquarters of the Java Commander in Jogjakarta was
called the Java Command Headquarters. The Sumatra and Java Commanders
were respectively in charge of the defense of the islands of Sumatra
and Java, under the general leadership of Pak Dirman.
Pak is an abbreviation of bapak (meaning father), which is used as a form of
familiar but respectful address. In accord with common Javanese practice, Sudirman's
name is shortened to Dirman.
2
R. Hidajat Martaatmadja was born in Tjiandjur, West Java, in 1916. He was
graduated from the Royal Military Academy in Breda (Netherlands) and joined the Royal
Dutch East Indies Army (KNIL) in 1938 as Second Lieutenant. During the occupation,
he worked in the land transport division of the Japanese military administration.
In 1945, he was Chief of Staff of the Bandung Regiment. After the formation of the
Siliwangi Division (May 1946), in 1947 he became Commander of the Fourth Brigade
("Guntur"), stationed in Garut, and later during the same year, Deputy Commander of
the Siliwangi Division. Shortly before the second Dutch action, he was assigned to
Sumatra and succeeded Suhardjo as Sumatra Army and Territory Commander.
A. H. Nasution was born in Kotanopan, Tapanuli, in 1918. In 1939, after
graduation from the Teachers' College in Bandung, he was assigned to Palembang. In
1940, he enrolled in the Royal Military Academy (KMA) in Bandung, and when the war
broke out he was commissioned as Second Lieutenant in the KNIL. During the Japanese
occupation, he worked for the Bandung Municipality administration and was active in
the youth movement. In the fall of 1945, he became Commander of the Third Division
(in Bandung), and, in May 1946, became the first commander of the subsequently famous
Siliwangi Division. As a result of the Renville Agreement, he and his troops were
evacuated to Central Java. In 1948, he served as Deputy Panglima Besar and Chief of
the Operations Staff of the Armed Forces Headquarters. He was the chief planner of
the operation for crushing the insurgents during the Madiun Affair. In another major
reorganization of the Armed Forces, he was made Java Army and Territory Commander and
functioned in that capacity during the second Dutch action. In December 1949, after
the Round Table Agreement, he became the Chief of Staff of the Army.
1415
In my capacity as Deputy Chief of Staff, I assisted Pak Dirman in
drawing up the recommendations for dealing with defense problems, which
were to be submitted to the government, and also in designing the fun-
damentals of our defense strategy. In addition, however, I was adviser
to the delegation which, assisted by the Three-State Commission, ** was
negotiating with the Dutch. Since these negotiations were held alter-
nately in Kaliurang4 5 and Djakarta, I frequently had to be outside Jog-
j akarta.
The negotiations dealt with the implementation of the Renville
Agreement. Renville was the name of a US Navy transport ship sent by
the United States government to the Bay of Djakarta, towards the end
of 1947, at the request of the Republic and the Dutch. At that time,
negotiations between us and the Dutch were about to be resumed on the
basis of a Security Council resolution. However, Bung Amir,6 our Prime
Minister, refused to hold the negotiations in Djakarta, as an expres-
sion of his mistrust of the Dutch, who had attacked us on July 21,
1947.
Since the Dutch did not want to hold negotiations outside Indone-
sia, for instance in Singapore, Hongkong, or Switzerland, as proposed
by Bung Amir, a middle road was taken. Negotiations were to be con-
ducted on neutral territory, namely on board a ship of the United
States Navy to be anchored in the Bay of Djakarta.
The negotiations on board the Renville were assisted by the Three-
State Commission composed of representatives of three countries--one
country designated by the Republic, one by the Dutch, and the third
appointed jointly by representatives of the countries designated by
the Republic and the Dutch. All this was in accordance with the Secur-
ity Council resolution.
We designated Australia, the Dutch chose Belgium, and the Austral-
ian and Belgian representatives jointly appointed the United States.
I think this led to the request for the United States government to
provide a warship as a place for the negotiations.
I myself took part in the negotiations resulting in the Renville
Agreement as a military adviser to our delegation. The Renville Agree-
ment was by no means a favorable one from the point of view of the
4
The Three-State Commission, often referred to as the Committee of Good Of-
fices, was set up by the UN Security Council in August 1947 following the first
Dutch military action against the Republic.
5Kaliurang is a mountain resort to the north of Jogjakarta.
6Bung, literally meaning brother, was a popular form of address during the
Revolution. Amir Sjarifuddin was born in Medan in 1907. In the late colonial peri-
od, he was a top leader of Partindo and Gerindo, two relatively radical nationalist
political parties. During the war, he led an anti-Japanese underground and was sen-
tenced to life imprisonment by the occupation authorities. When the Revolution broke
out, he helped form the Socialist Party (PS) and served as Minister of Defense in the
three Sjahrir cabinets (1945-47) before assuming the prime ministership himself on
July 3, 1947. He fell from power on January 23, 1948, following his initialling of
the Renville Agreement. He became involved in the Madiun Affair in the fall of 1948
and was executed by the Indonesian Army shortly after the onset of the second Dutch
action.16
Republic. When I think back to the atmosphere which prevailed as the
agreement was about to be concluded, the first thing that comes to mind
is the psychological pressure on our people, in Djakarta as well as in
Jogjakarta, caused by rumors (rumors which I think were intentionally
spread by the Dutch) that an impasse in the negotiations would mean a
follow-up attack or doorstoot by the Dutch. On the other hand, I remem
ber the belief then prevailing among us, that if we accepted the agree-
ment reached with the assistance of the Three-State Commission, this
would imply a guarantee by the latter that the implementation of the
agreement would proceed without violence or the threat of violence by
the Dutch. Our reasoning at that time was more or less that the Three-
State Commission would ensure that the struggle would shift from the
"bullet" to the "ballot," and we were convinced that through the "bal-
lot" we would be able to drive the Dutch out. Today, one may consider
this belief rather naive. I still remember how enthusiastically the
members and military observers of the Three-State Commission were wel-
comed everywhere in our territory as though they were the gods of jus-
tice who had come to help those in the right and to punish those in the
wrong--as always happens in the old fairy tales and stories which still
greatly influence our people's way of thinking.
In the days prior to December 19, 1948, one could feel the situa-
tion getting increasingly tense. Nonetheless, most of us still firmly
believed that, in spite of the tense situation, the Dutch would not
attack so long as the negotiations being conducted with the assistance
of the Three-State Commission, which was at that time at Kaliurang with
its full staff, were still going on. For this reason, we took appar-
ently contradictory actions. The Java Commander, together with all
the senior officers at the Java Command Headquarters, left for East
Java several days before December 19, and bombs were removed from under
neath the Maguwo landing strip. But at the same time, orders were
issued to all troops to be on the alert. Precisely on December 19,
1948, orders were given everywhere for maneuvers to be held in the
face of a possible attack.
On the morning of December 18, I visited Pak Dirman, who had been
bedridden for three months. On this occasion, I told him that, al-
though we considered the situation very tense, our political leaders
believed that the Dutch could not afford to attack so long as the ex-
change of notes through the United States representative on the Three-
State Commission was still proceeding. Under such circumstances, an
attack by the Dutch would be the policy of madmen--such was the general
opinion in political circles. Nonetheless, Pak Dirman evidently had a
premonition that the Dutch would attack after all. That same day he
announced that he had taken the command into his own hands again. He
intended this announcement, of course, mainly as a psychological mea-
sure, because at that moment Pak Dirman had by no means recovered. He
had received me lying on his bed.
On the afternoon of December 18, I left for Kaliurang. The Vice-
President, who then concurrently held the posts of head of the Presi-
dential Cabinet and Minister of Defense, was resting at Kaliurang.
While I was having my dinner at the Kaliurang Hotel together with the
other guests (most of them staff members of the Three-State Commission),
the radio, apparently tuned to Djakarta, announced that early the fol-
lowing day the High Commissioner of the Dutch Crown would give an im-
portant address.17
Immediately after dinner, I went to Bung Hatta's7 quarters. I ex-
plained to him that I was worried by this Djakarta radio broadcast,
since, early on the morning of July 21, 1947, we had also heard an im-
portant address by van Mook, the Dutch Lieutenant Governor-General,8
announcing that Dutch troops had begun an attack the previous night.
Was it not possible that tomorrow, December 19, 1948, High Commissioner
Beel would make the same kind of speech?
Bung Hatta said this was of course a possibility. On the other
hand, Mr. Cochran9 had left for Djakarta only the day before with a
reply from Bung Hatta to a letter from the Dutch--a letter which had
been brought by Mr. Cochran himself:	Would it not constitute a great
insult to the United States if the Dutch started their attack while
the exchange of notes through this American representative was still
going on? In other words, the conclusions reached during this discus-
sion with Bung Hatta were the same as those we had drawn earlier,
namely:	Unquestionably the Dutch could attack; but wouldn't this mean
that they had gone mad?
In spite of this, I could not feel quite at ease. That same
night, I left for Jogjakarta accompanied by Lt. Masdulhak.10 I hoped
to delay the departure of the aircraft--if I am not mistaken a Filipino
plane chartered by AURI [Angkatan Udara Republik Indonesia, Air Force
of the Republic of Indonesia]--due to take off at dawn for Tandjung-
karang [South Sumatra] with about 25 recent graduates of the Military
Academy. Should the Dutch in fact attack, the availability of an air-
craft would allow at least some of our leaders, perhaps one of the
Dwitunggal,11 to leave Indonesia, or at the very least the island of
Java.
7
Mohammad Hatta was born in Bukittinggi, West Sumatra, in 1902. He was an im-
portant leader of the Perhimpunan Indonesia in Holland in the late 1920*s, and, on
his return to Indonesia, he assumed leadership of the Pendidikan Nasional Indonesia,
one of the two groups into which Sukarno*s PNI had split after his arrest in 1929.
Hatta was imprisoned in 1934 and was not released until the Japanese conquest of the
Indies. During the occupation he held a number of positions which established his
status as the number two nationalist leader, after Sukarno. In August 1945, he was
elected Vice-President of the Republic. After the fall of Amir Sjarifuddin's cabi-
net, Hatta formed a so-called Presidential Cabinet, on January 29, 1948, which lasted
until the formal transfer of sovereignty on December 27, 1949.
8	*
When Governor-General Tjarda van Starkenborgh-Stachouwer resigned in 1945,
the Dutch government did not appoint a successor, thus making van Mook de facto the
highest Dutch official in Indonesia. In November 1948, Dr. L. J. M. Beel, formerly
prime minister of the Netherlands, was appointed to the top position in the Indies
with the new title of High Commissioner.
q
Merle Cochran was appointed the American representative on the Committee of
Good Offices in August 1948, following the recall of Coert DuBois in July.
10Masdulhak was born in 1925. In 1946, he was attached to the Army's liaison
office in Djakarta; subsequently, he was assigned to the Indonesian delegation dur-
ing the Dutch-Indonesian negotiations of 1947-48.
**Dwitunggal, or duumvirate, refers to Sukarno (President) and Hatta (Vice-
President) , regarded then as the inseparable twin leaders of the Indonesian Revolu-
tion.18
The car we used, as was the case with most cars in the territory
of the Republic, was no longer in good condition. At a sharp turn in
the road, the driver cried out that the brakes refused to work proper-
ly. But somehow or other	the car	was eventually brought	safely to a
standstill by the side of	the road.	"It seems I'm meant	to have a long
life," I told Masdulhak. We needed to find a local government office
with a telephone in order	to ring	up	Jogjakarta and ask if there was a
car available which could	be sent	to	us. We had to wait	for hours, and
by the time we finally approached Jogjakarta, dawn was breaking. Just
as we entered the city, we heard the noise of an airplane taking off
and heading west.
So we missed the last chance to send people out of Java in the
event that the Dutch started their attack that morning. Later on we
would hear that the aircraft had landed safely at Tandjungkarang, had
taken off again the same morning, and had landed back at Maguwo. In
the meantime, Maguwo had been occupied by the Dutch, and the plane,
along with its passengers, had been captured. The young officers who
had been flown to Tandjungkarang had continued their journey in accord-
ance with their orders. At Banaran several months later, I received a
brief radiogram from the leader of the group, reporting that all the
officers had reached their respective destinations. Some of them must
have traveled thousands of kilometers from Tandjungkarang to reach
their posts in South, Central and North Sumatra, completing the greater
part of the journey of foot. When I received this radiogram, I ex-
claimed:	"How can this Republic disappear so long as it has such young
men?" But we are now months ahead of our story!
After reaching my house at No. 8 Djalan Merapi, I lay down on a
couch without getting undressed. Perhaps only a short while after I
had fallen asleep, the noise of planes woke me up. It was getting
light already, and as I looked up through the window, I saw a number
of planes with Dutch markings. Ngajogyakartahadiningrat, our beloved
capital city, was under attack. Was the death knell of the Republic
being tolled this morning? Or would our Republic survive this test?
All would depend on us, who called ourselves Republicans. The day of
our trial had come. Were we	brass?	Or gold?
Without bathing or even	washing	my face, I	drove to Suriadarma's12
house, also on Djalan Merapi not far away. Suriadarma was already up.
Was there anything that could be done? While we were talking, a big
dummy dropped from one of the enemy planes and fell in front of the
church close by Suriadarma's house. "They're going to drop parachut-
ists," Suriadarma said. I suggested, "Then let's go to the palace."
But he answered, "Wait until	things have calmed	down a	bit."
I then went to the Java	Command	Headquarters. On	the main	street
opposite the headquarters, I saw Zulkifli Lubis.13 As usual he was not
12
R. Surjadi Suriadarma was born in Banjuwangi, East Java, in 1912. After
graduating from the Royal Military Academy in Breda, he joined the KNIL and soon
transferred to its infant air arm. During the occupation, he worked in the police
in Bandung. After the outbreak of the Revolution, he was summoned to Jogjakarta to
guide the formation of the Republic’s tiny air force.
13
Zulkifli Lubis was born in Tapanuli. During the occupation, he was among
the first to be recruited into the Peta, and specialized in intelligence work. During19
in uniform; he was walking along with a perfectly calm expression, al-
most smiling. In his left hand, he held a big cigarette lighter. I
had arrived in Jogjakarta at about the same time as Zulkifli, in Octo-
ber 1945, when the central Army leadership was first being established,
but I still found him very mysterious. No senior officer had arrived
at headquarters as yet. I asked who was the senior officer in charge,
for I knew that the Panglima Besar and his staff were out of town.
Somebody told me that it was Lt. Col. Sukanda.14 But Sukanda was then
working in the Territorial Staff and not in the section of the General
Staff which was in charge of operations.
On leaving headquarters, I dropped in for a while at the City
Military Command. Latif15was discussing Mscorched-earthM tactics with
his staff. I thought his position that morning a rather difficult one.
He was the City Military Commander, but the troops in the town were
not under his command.
From the City Military Command, I went to the headquarters of the
coding service, in Djalan Batanawarsa. This service was in charge of
sending our radiograms to Bukittinggi ,l 6 I asked Dr. Rubijono,x 7 our
code expert, to try to keep the connections with Bukittinggi open,
since it was very likely that the cabinet would be sending cables there
as soon as a session could be held.
I then went to the Presidential Palace. This building served not
only as the residence of the President and his family but also as the
center for all activities of the Republicfs high command while the
latter was in Jogjakarta. Cabinet sessions were held there, as well as
important meetings with delegations, sessions of the Military Strategy
Council, and important state ceremonies. Thus, my first reaction, when
it became clear that we were under attack, was:	To the Palace!
the early part of the Revolution, he functioned as the effective head of Section Five
of the Ministry of Defense, responsible, among other things, for intelligence and for
sabotage behind enemy lines.
14
Sukanda Bratamenggala was born in West Java in 1917. He was graduated from
a teachers* college and joined the Peta during the Japanese occupation. After the
Japanese surrender he was active in several fighting units in West Java, particularly
in the area between north Bandung and east Krawang. After the formation of the Sili-
wangi Division, he became Commander of its First Battalion (’’Tirtajasa”). In 1948,
he was made Deputy Chief of Staff of the Java Command. After the second Dutch action
began, he joined the Siliwangi Division units in their "long march” back to West Java
from Central Java.
Abdul Latif Hendraningrat was the second highest Peta officer in the Djakarta
area during the occupation. In 1949, he served as the City Military Commander for
Jogjakarta.
^Bukittinggi, West Sumatra, was the headquarters of the Emergency Government
of the Republic, established under Sjafruddin Prawiranegara after the capture of Su-
karno, Hatta, and the bulk of Hattafs cabinet, on the first day of the second Dutch
action, December 19, 1948.
17Dr. Rubijono Kertopati was born in 1914. He was graduated from the Medical
College in Surabaja. In 1946, he was assigned to be the chief medical officer of the
Ministry of Defense. In 1947, he was head of Technical Services, Ministry of Defense,
and in 1948, he was in charge of the coding service of the Armed Forces.20
When I got there, things still seemed rather quiet. In the left-
hand wing of the Palace, in front of the bedrooms reserved for guests,
I saw Bung Sjahrir18 and a few others. Bung Sjahrir was then serving
as adviser to the President, and he came over quite frequently from
Djakarta, where he lived, probably to take counsel. For the past few
days, as the situation became increasingly tense, Bung Sjahrir had been
staying in Jogjakarta at the Palace. In one respect, it was lucky that
few people were around the Palace; even the President was apparently
still in his room. As a result, I had a chance to eat some fried rice
and drink a cup of coffee undisturbed. "Who knows when we will get
another chance to eat today?" I thought.
Suriadarma came and told us that Maguwo had been attacked, and
probably was already occupied by the enemy. Communications were evi-
dently no longer operating smoothly, however, since he could not give
us any details about the situation at Maguwo. Over and around Jogja-
karta, one could see Dutch aircraft flying about quite freely, since
we could not take any action against them. We had no fighters, and
our anti-aircraft weapons were limited to a few machine guns. Now and
then the Dutch planes dropped rockets and fired their machine guns, but
the Palace itself was not directly attacked from the air.
Gradually, the members of the cabinet assembled at the Palace:
Dr. Leimena, Djuanda,20 etc. The Sultan21also came a little later.
18
Sutan Sjahrir was born in Padang Pandjang, West Sumatra, in 1909. While a
student in Holland, he became secretary of the Perhimpunan Indonesia and, on his re-
turn to Indonesia, worked with Hatta in the Pendidikan Nasional Indonesia. He was
imprisoned along with Hatta in 1934 and was only released in 1942 after the Dutch
collapse. During the occupation, he avoided public office and attempted to create
an underground organization. After the outbreak of the Revolution, he became a major
spokesman for elements hostile to the so-called collaborators with the Japanese.
Partly for this reason, he became Prime Minister in November 1945. Together with
Amir Sjarifuddin, he led the then dominant Socialist Party. He headed three succes-
sive cabinets until his fall from power in June 1947. As special adviser to the
President, he was assigned to represent the Republic when the Security Council de-
bated the "Indonesian Question" in the early fall of 1947. In early 1948, he broke
with Amir Sjarifuddin and formed a minority party, the Indonesian Socialist Party
(PSI), which supported the Hatta cabinet.
19
Johannes Leimena was born in Ambon in 1905. Aside from his medical practice,
he was active in Moluccan and Protestant political organizations. He was Deputy Min-
ister of Health in both the Amir and Hatta cabinets. Given strenuous Dutch efforts
to elicit support from Protestant and Moluccan minorities, Leimena*s adherence con-
stituted a significant political asset to the Republic.
20
R. Djuanda was born in Tasikmalaja, West Java, in 1911. Before the war, he
was a top member of the Sundanese regional political party, the Pagujuban Pasundan.
He served as Deputy Minister of Communications in the second Sjahrir cabinet, and as
Minister of Communications in the third Sjahrir, the Amir, and the Hatta cabinets.
21
Sultan Hamengku Buwono IX was born in Jogjakarta in 1912. He was enrolled
in Leiden University but had to interrupt his studies and return home due to the ill-
ness of his father. He succeeded his father as Sultan of Jogjakarta in 1939. When
the Revolution broke out, he identified strongly with the Republic. He was Minister
of State without portfolio in the third Sjahrir, the Amir, and the Hatta cabinets.
He was to be made responsible for security in the Jogjakarta region when the Dutch21
For the last few days he had been ill, and it was obviously still dif-
ficult for him to walk when he emerged from his car and entered the
Palace. Pak Dirman, who had been bedridden for the past three months,
also arrived by car. Slowly, he got out of his car and walked care-
fully into the Palace, supported by some of his adjutants and Dr.
Suwondo,22 his personal doctor. By now the President had also come out
of his room. It remained to wait for Bung Hatta who was still at Kali-
urang. The Sultan and Bung Sjahrir offered to go and fetch Bung Hatta
at Kaliurang. Sasra23 had already taken him a pass with a Staff of the
Armed Forces stamp, in order to avoid difficulties in case our troops
stopped them on their way. They met Bung Hatta a few kilometers out-
side Jogjakarta. On the way from Kaliurang, Bung Hatta’s car had been
fired on from the air, and Hutabarat ,2 ** who was in the car behind Bung
Hatta’s, was reported to have been hit.
What decision would the cabinet take? Pak Dirman had already
issued an order over the radio announcing that we were under attack
and declaring a state of war. I suggested to a number of cabinet mem-
bers that a cable should immediately be sent to Bukittinggi transfer-
ring power to Minister of Finance Sjafrudin Prawiranegara,25 who was
there at that time. I said that orders had been given to maintain con-
tinuous connection with Bukittinggi for the sending of government
cables. I also proposed that the President, the Vice-President, and
the other leaders should leave town immediately and go to Wonosari.
The Sultan had already given orders by telephone to reserve the Regent’s
residence at Wonosari for that purpose. I had myself already sent a
letter from the Palace asking Lt. Col. Daan Jahj a ,26 Chief of Staff of
the Siliwangi Division, to reserve some troops to escort the President
and the others to Wonosari. When asked whether Wonosari would be safe,
troops left that area as a result of the Rum-van Royen Agreement. Later, in Decem-
ber 1949, he became Minister of Defense in the first cabinet of the United Republic
of Indonesia (RIS) led by Hatta.
22
This appears to refer to the Suwondo who served in the Peta in East Java
during the occupation and who, in 1948, became Chief of Staff of the newly formed
Brawidjaja Division there.
23
Sutarto Sasraprawira was born in 1920. On the eve of the war, he was en-
rolled at the Reserve Officers’ Training School in Bandung. From 1945 to 1947, he
was secretary to the Army’s Directorate-General in Jogjakarta. In 1948, he was
secretary to the General Staff of the Armed Forces.
24
Hutabarat was a personal aide to Vice-President Hatta.
25
R. Sjafrudin Prawiranegara was born in Banten, West Java, in 1911. He
worked in both the colonial and Japanese administrations, specializing in taxation
problems. He became Deputy Minister of Finance in the second and Minister of Finance
in the third Sjahrir cabinets. He served as Minister of Economic Affairs in the
Hatta cabinet.
Daan Jahja was a medical student during the Japanese occupation. After the
Republic was proclaimed, he and others initiated a military academy in Tangerang,
west of Djakarta. He was a Brigade Commander under Nasution in the Siliwangi Divi-
sion and later became Chief of Staff of the Division. He took part in the Round
Table Conference in The Hague as a member of the military staff attached to the Re-
publican delegation. In December 1949 he became military governor of the Djakarta
area.22
I explained that, under the circumstances, no place could be considered
absolutely safe--any place could be attacked at any moment by land or
from the air. Even if Wonosari were still safe that day, this would
not mean that the President and the others could stay there the next
day or the day after. In other words, those leaving the town would
have to get used to the idea of roaming from one village to another
until a general settlement could be reached. Of course, it would also
involve the risk of being shot or captured, shortages of food and medi-
cine, and so on. All these problems were inevitable in the only method
of warfare open to us, a people's war.
The members of the cabinet began to assemble on the back verandah;
I was not invited to attend the meeting. I could see Pak Dirman still
sitting in his chair, so apparently he was not invited either. Later
on he left the Palace. I departed too. I went to the Java Command
Headquarters, which I found empty. Headquarters had been moved to a
house not far away. I met Sukanda who informed me that the headquar-
ters would be transferred outside the city, to the Kutu area, on the
road between Jogjakarta and Magelang.
After discussing the situation with Lt. Col. Sukanda, who was at
that time the senior officer in charge at the Java Command Headquarters,
I returned by car to the Palace. The streets were empty. When I ar-
rived at the Palace, the ministers had begun to disperse. They said
the cabinet had decided not to leave the city. When I asked why, no-
body had a clear answer. Apparently, the cabinet felt that even if the
President and the others left, they still risked being captured later.
Evidently, it was believed that such a situation would have more ad-
verse consequences than if things were clear right from the start,
namely, if the President, the Vice-President, and the ministers were
immediately captured by the enemy. At least, that was more or less as
I understood things; as I noted previously, no one was prepared to give
me a full explanation. As Bung Hatta was about to leave the Palace, I
had a chance to propose that the government should at least make a
statement calling for the continuation of the struggle even if its mem-
bers were captured by the enemy.
Bung Hatta answered, "Good." Harjono,27 who had accompanied me,
hurried off to find paper and a typewriter. In the presence of Bung
Hatta and myself, he typed an official statement to the effect that,
whatever might happen to members of the government, the struggle must
continue. Bung Hatta signed it in his capacity as chief executive.
We saluted and shook hands with him.
This document would provide the legal basis for continuing the
struggle after the head of state and members of the government had been
captured. Later on, we distributed copies of it, but as a matter of
fact, during the people's war, I never met a single person who believed
27
Harjono was born in Surabaja in 1924 and was a student at the Medical College
until the later part of the occupation. He then joined the Peta. From the earliest
period of the Republic he was involved in liaison work and cease-fire negotiations,
first with the British and later with the Dutch. In 1946 he was appointed secretary
of the National Defense Council and an official of the Ministry of Defense in charge
of staff work for truce negotiations. In August 1949, he went to The Hague as secre-
tary to the military staff attached to the Republican delegation at the Round Table
Conference.23
that the struggle should not have been carried on if there had been no
such document. I did not see Bung Karno.28 Apparently, he was either
on the back verandah or in his room.
On leaving the palace, I went to Pak Dirmanfs house in Bintaran.
It was quite empty. Pak Dirman had already left town. Opposite the
Pakualam Palace, I noticed Lt. Col. Surjosularso29standing under the
trees at the side of the road. He seemed to be taking temporary shel-
ter from the planes which continued circling and shooting. I stopped
and asked him where he planned to go. "To Imogiri," he said. And
myself? "Perhaps to Imogiri too, perhaps to Kutu," I told him. In-
deed I did not know at the time.
I stopped for a moment at my house. I put a knapsack containing
some clothes, a toothbrush, and soap into the car. We left immediately,
because heavy firing could be heard from the direction of Maguwo. The
actual situation was unclear. Had the Dutch already reached the city
from Maguwo? Had they dropped parachutists at Maguwo, then landed
troops by plane after gaining control of the airfield, and subsequently
proceeded into the city? Or had they, while attacking Maguwo, simul-
taneously advanced towards Jogja via Magelang or Purworedjo? I did
not know at that time.
At any rate, I thought, I should try to drive to Kutu. But a few
minutes before our car reached Gondolaju Bridge, one of the planes cir-
cling above fired at the moving vehicle and scored a direct hit on the
rear end with a machine gun bullet. The car caught fire, but I managed
to get out in time. Once again, as on the previous night between Kali-
urang and Jogjakarta, I said to Pak Untung, the driver of my car: "It
seems I'm meant to have a long life." However, I had had no time to
get the knapsack out of the car.
At that moment, I caught sight of Sasra walking quickly toward
the ravine of the Tjode River. He evidently intended to cross the
river without going over the bridge. Without further thought I fol-
lowed him. We forded the small river, walked through a kampung, and
then crossed the main street, Djalan Malioboro, near Toko Oen. After
that, we walked straight out of town in the direction of Demakidjo.
We did not see the enemy, but the shooting sounded closer and closer.
I did not know the time when we left town, but I guessed that it was
already past two o'clock.
28
Sukarno was born in Surabaja, East Java, in 1901. He was graduated from the
Technical Faculty in Bandung in 1926. In 1927, he rose to national prominence as
the founder of the PNI. From late 1929 to late 1931, he was imprisoned by the Dutch.
On his release he joined the Partindo, but he was soon rearrested. He was exiled
to Flores and then Bengkulen from February 1934 to the end of the colonial period
when the Japanese released him. He was the top Indonesian national figure of the
occupation period, serving as leader of both Putera and the Hokokai. After the
Proclamation of Independence, the Committee for the Preparation of Indonesian Inde-
pendence (PPKI) elected him President of the Republic. He also headed the first
cabinet, which lasted until November 1945.
29
Surjosularso was born in 1916. He was graduated from the Royal Military
Academy in Breda. During the Revolution, he was instructor at an Army Training In-
stitute, Director of Personnel at the Ministry of Defense, and in charge of the
Army's Communications Service.24
It was an odd coincidence that I left the town with Sasra. More
than three years before, at the beginning of October 1945, Sasra and I
had gone together by train from Bandung to Jogjakarta to assist in the
formation of the central leadership of the Army, which at that time had
just been officially established. I still remember how Suriadarma, who
had been working with the police in Bandung since the Japanese period,
had arranged service cards for Sasra and me as police inspectors, to
enable us to travel by train free of charge. It was funny that it was
as fake police inspectors that we had arrived in Jogjakarta to take
part in setting up the Army Headquarters. When we left Jogjakarta on
the afternoon of December 19, however, we were too sad to think of any-
thing humorous.
I took nothing with me on leaving town except the shirt and pair
of pants I wore. They were the same clothes I had worn at Kaliurang
the day before. My friends often called that shirt and pair of pants
"diplomat’s clothes," because the shirt was foreign-made and I wore
the grey woolen pants only when I went to Djakarta or Kaliurang to take
part in the negotiations. Now they were the only clothes I had. A few
weeks later, when the situation had become less chaotic and we could
begin to laugh again, I was often teasingly referred to as "the diplo-
mat who got lost." I walked from one village to another during the
people’s war wearing the grey woolen pants and the foreign-made shirt,
which I used to wear only when negotiating with the Dutch and the
Three-State Commission.
At Demakidjo we met Maj. Muslimin.30 Demakidjo had a sugar process
ing plant which had been made over into an arms factory. Maj. Muslimin
was in charge. In accordance with his instructions, he had destroyed
the factory, and now he intended to accompany us. He told us that he
knew Central Java very well, as he had often hunted wild pigs there.
He used to sell the pigs to supplement his household budget.
From Demakidjo we walked to Godean, and from there in the direc-
tion of Kutu. Day had become night. Someone who lived in one of the
houses by the roadside invited us in and offered us cassava. Our
people are indeed generous. I had not eaten or drunk anything since
morning, so the cassava and hot coffee tasted very delicious. At Kutu
nobody knew where the Java Command Headquarters was. We therefore
walked west intending to cross the Progo River. On the way we heard
heavy explosions. Evidently the sugar factories and other buildings
were being destroyed in line with instructions which I myself had
signed a short time before. We felt quite satisfied hearing these ex-
plosions. If the Dutch think that their attack will allow them to put
the factories back to work, just let them see what really happens, I
thought. Didn’t the Dutch realize, before they started their attack,
that we genuinely would rather see our country reduced to rubble than
endure Dutch colonialism once again? At Minggir we slept in a guard-
house while waiting for dawn,since there was no raft to take us across
the Progo before morning.
Although I was exhausted, I could not fall asleep immediately.
The day before, on December 18, I had been driving around in a car in
30
Muslimin was born in 1911. He was given special training in the weapons work-
shop of the KNIL and, in 1945, he was made head of the arms workshops of the Ministry
of Defense. During the second Dutch action, he was in charge of arms workshops for
the area of Military Governor III.25
Jogjakarta as Deputy Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces. That after-
noon I had eaten my dinner at the Kaliurang Hotel as a "diplomat” to-
gether with members of our delegation and those of the Three-State
Commission. Later I had met His Excellency the Vice-President of our
Republic. And now I was here, in a guardhouse at Minggir on the bank
of the Progo. No one could predict what would happen to me now. Such
is life, I thought; it has its ebb and flow, just like the sea.
How odd that, at that moment, a passage from a poem by Kipling
came into my mind. At the very time when I was being hunted by the
Dutch imperialists, I found pleasure in the work of a poet who praised
British imperial ism.
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster,
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings,
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss ;
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss ;
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings--nor lose the common touch,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'11 be a Many my son.
Jogjakarta had fallen. The President, the Vice-President, and
our other top leaders had been captured. But was this the end of our
Republic? There is a writer (Machiavelli, if I am not mistaken) who
once said that the last fortress of a state existed in the hearts of
its soldiers. Whether our Republic would live or die now mainly de-
pended indeed on the question of whether or not it was still alive in
the hearts of the officers, noncommissioned officers, and soldiers of
the Indonesian National Army. The answer to this question would be
given by developments in the days and weeks to come. My own fate, as
Tahi Bonar Simatupang, Colonel in the Indonesian Army, also hung on
this answer.
Nonetheless, my heart was quiet and serene. For some time now, I
had been getting used to the idea that a Dutch attack was inevitable.
We would have to swallow this bitter medicine to its last drop as a
test of our sincere desire to live as an independent nation and state.
But the test had come sooner than I had first expected.
I remembered a conversation with Capt. Nusjirwan in Djakarta some
time before, as we rode back in a car to No. 56 Pegangsaan Timur from
a negotiating session at the Hotel Des Indes. The meeting that day
had been quite brief. The Dutch had made a proposal which in essence
called for the dissolution of the Indonesian National Army during what
they called an "interim period"; I had immediately made it clear that
such a proposal could not even be considered. So the meeting was
adjourned. In effect, this was the last meeting of the Military Com-
mission, for the subsequent negotiations, at Kaliurang, were held
directly between a number of Dutch ministers and our government.26
Later, in the car, I had said to Nusjirwan, who was my secretary at
that time:	"If it is the fate of this Republic to perish, I will per-
ish with it. For me there is no road back, nor any other road forward."
I was already committed, and therefore I was quiet and serene.
Yet as I lay in the guardhouse at Minggir, my thoughts turned for a
while to my mother who was living in Pematang Siantar in Sumatra. No
doubt she would be praying for my safety once she learned from the
radio that Jogjakarta had fallen into the hands of the Dutch.
Of course, all soldiers, noncommissioned officers, and officers of
the Indonesian National Army had fathers, mothers, even wives and chil-
dren whom they had had to leave behind to continue the struggle. My
own position was not so bad, as I was still unmarried.
All of this was for Indonesia’s independence.
Eventually I fell asleep. When the cocks crowing to one another
in the villages around the guardhouse woke me up, the sky in the east
above Mount Merapi had begun to lighten. There is an exquisite sen-
tence in the Book of Genesis in the Holy Bible, which I used to read in
the Batak language and later in Dutch, when I was at the Christian
Junior High School in Tarutung [Tapanuli] and subsequently at the
Salemba Christian Senior High School in Djakarta. "Dungi bot ma ari,
terang ma ari muse, ima ari pardjolo." "En het was avond geweest, het
was morgen geweest, de eerste dag." It means: "So the morning had be-
come evening and the evening had become day, the first day." The first
day of the second war of independence had ended and the second day had
come.
I woke Sasra and my other friends, who were still sound asleep in
the guardhouse at Minggir on the banks of the Progo that was flowing
quietly to the Southern Sea as it had done for centuries.
It would perhaps be useful if we now answered some questions which
may arise with regard to the events of December 19, 1948. Could Jogja-
karta have been defended against the Dutch attack? I do not think we
were in a position to defend it for an unlimited period. Could Jogja-
karta have been defended for a limited time, for instance, two or three
days? Theoretically, I think, this would not have been impossible.
For example, if the Maguwo airfield could have been held and effective-
ly sabotaged on the first day, we might have gained two or three days
before Jogjakarta fell. But our belief that the Dutch would not attack
so long as the exchange of notes through the Three-State Commission,
or, more accurately, through the United States representative on the
Commission, continued,prevented us from taking the necessary measures.
What would have happened, if the fall of Jogjakarta could have
been delayed for two or three days? Such a delay would mainly have had
a psychological impact, both at home and abroad. After a few days,
Jogjakarta would have had to be abandoned anyway. Of course, the de-
lay would have given us more time to effect our scorched-earth tactics
before leaving the city.
In this regard, it should be noted that the state leaders were
not captured, on December 19, 1948, because they had no time to leave27
Jogjakarta. They remained in the city as a consequence of a political
decision consciously taken following considerable deliberation in a
cabinet meeting held on the morning of December 19, 1948, at the Pal-
ace. Even if the fall of Jogjakarta could have been delayed for two
or three days, it is questionable whether they would have made a dif-
ferent decision.
Our conclusion is that Jogjakarta1s fall was inevitable; at the
most, we could have delayed it a few days. Such a delay, however,
would probably not have fundamentally affected further developments.
Our experience with the fall of Jogjakarta underlines the truth
of the military maxim:	"Always expect the unexpected."CHAPTER II
WITH THE SILIWANGI DIVISION
Early on the morning of December 20, 1948, we crossed the Progo on
a raft. On the other side of the river lay a bigger village, Dekso.
I had come across the name of this village in a history book about the
struggle of Prince Diponegoro, but this was the first time I had seen
it myself. It is certainly favorably situated for carrying on a peo-
ple's war. Dekso is protected from an attack from the east by the
Progo, which is rather wide there; around it there are rice fields and
gardens, while not far away there are hills to fall back to if neces-
sary. It is not surprising that Dekso and the area surrounding it
served for a long time as Prince Diponegoro's base while he waged his
people's war against the Dutch. Now, 120 years later, quite acciden-
tally, we, too, arrived at Dekso. As soon as I saw Dekso for the first
time it flashed into my mind to seek a suitable site in the area for a
fairly permanent base for the Staff of the Armed Forces during the
people's war.
First of all, however, I intended to get in touch with the Java
Command Headquarters, as it was this headquarters that had been assigned
to direct the defense of Java. Theoretically, the Staff of the Armed
Forces was supposed to coordinate the defense of both Java and Sumatra,
indeed the whole of Indonesia as well. It was also to coordinate de-
fense measures with our political, diplomatic, economic, and other
policies. At the moment, of course, this was all purely theoretical.
In my capacity as Deputy Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces, I first
had to establish contact with the Java and Sumatra Commands; only then
could further steps by the Staff of the Armed Forces be considered.
In addition, it was essential to establish contact with Pak Dirman as
soon as possible.
At Dekso, nobody knew the location of the Java Command Headquar-
ters. One battalion of the Siliwangi Division was here, under the
command of Maj. Daeng,1 and it was heading for West Java. Daeng had
told me that his battalion had received orders to leave immediately for
West Java if the Dutch attacked. For some time now, he had been study-
ing which route to take to avoid the main roads. Indeed, some time
ago an order known in the army as the Panglima Besar's Instruction No. 1
had been issued which mapped out the actions each unit should take in
case of a Dutch attack.
From Dekso we walked some miles south to Kenteng. There we met
Lt. Col. Sudarto. Sudarto had been a student at the Technical Faculty
in Bandung before the Japanese came, and, during the occupation, he had
been a high school teacher in Jogja. At the time of the Dutch attack,
he commanded the Seventeenth Brigade. This brigade had been assigned
^Daeng commanded the Fourth Battalion of the First Siliwangi Brigade in 1948.
The brigade was quartered in Jogjakarta as a consequence of the post-Renville evacu-
ations. Like Daan Jahja, he was captured by the Dutch in the course of the second
action.
2829
to consolidate the units organized since 1945 in a number of regions by
students who had joined the armed struggle.
Sudarto informed us that some time ago, he and his staff had
selected and prepared the area around Kenteng as a base to fall back
on in case of retreat, and that therefore when it became clear that
the Dutch had started to attack on December 19, his group went to Ken-
teng. Sudarto, too, had no idea where the Java Command Headquarters
might be. I suspected that its members had not yet reassembled, having
left Jogja the day before in small groups.
The reports I got from Daeng and Sudarto were typical of what
happened everywhere in those days. Each unit had known for some time
where it should go in case of a Dutch attack and, as far as possible,
preparations had already been made. Some units had to travel only a
few kilometers to reach their fail-back positions, as was the case with
Lt. Col. Sudartofs staff. Others had to march hundreds of kilometers
through the mountains before arriving at their base areas, such as
Daeng1s battalion, which was heading for West Java. In general, the
troops that had been evacuated from West Java, the western part of
Central Java, and the eastern part of East Java, in accordance with
the Renville Agreement, had for some time been preparing themselves
for the return to their respective regions if the Dutch attacked.
Apparently the same thing took place on Sumatra, though on December 20
we had no idea about what was happening there. In fact, my knowledge
of events on Java at that time was still limited to what I had per-
sonally seen and heard.
Our organization had not yet been restored as a working unit.
Nonetheless, as the examples noted above clearly demonstrate, parts of
this organization had carried out the steps previously decided upon.
Apparently the Dutch had no inkling of all this. Perhaps they were
intoxicated with their victories in Jogjakarta and Djakarta and be-
lieved that with the surprise seizure of Jogjakarta and other towns,
the Republic and its Armed Forces had met their end. Perhaps, too,
they thought that the capture of our top leaders would break the spirit
of the people and the Armed Forces. If the Dutch really let themselves
be guided by such expectations--and from my earlier conversations with
members of the Dutch delegation at Kaliurang I had got the impression
that such indeed was the trend of their thinking--they were living in
a dream world.
From Kenteng we went back to Dekso. Since I concluded that the
Java Command Headquarters had not yet been reorganized, I decided first
to try to contact Col. Bambang Sugeng,2 the Military Governor of the
Third Region, whose area of responsibility covered the western part of
Central Java, i.e., the regions of Jogjakarta, Kedu, half of Semarang,
Pekalongan, and Banjumas. I wanted to ascertain whether or not our
organization from the level of Military Governor on down had already
2
Bambang Sugeng was born in Tegalredjo, Magelang, Central Java, in 1913. He
received a high school education, and in the 1930fs worked in the Department of In-
ternal Affairs, Lampung, and later in the kabupaten office in Temanggung, Central
Java. During the occupation he was a company commander in the Peta, stationed in the
Magelang area. After the Revolution began, he headed the Wonosobo Regiment in the
Fifth Division under Sudirman. Subsequently, he became Chief of Staff of the Second
Division in Purwokerto, and in May 1948, he was made Commander of the Diponegoro
Division. At the time of the Madiun Affair, he was Military Governor of the Third
Region.30
been restored. My best plan of action would be to join the Siliwangi
troops moving westwards. Later on, I could part company with them, for
they would continue heading west, while I would have to go north to the
Mount Sumbing area, where Bambang Sugeng and his staff were located.
Afterward, I would return here to the Dekso region because it was a
good place for a more permanent base, and furthermore, as Deputy Chief
of Staff of the Armed Forces, it was better that I not be located too
far away from Jogjakarta. Somehow or other, contact with our people in
the city, and through them with Djakarta, would eventually have to be
restored to enable us to cope with further political developments.
Perhaps by the time I returned here, the nature of the general situa-
tion would have become clearer. The most important problems concerned
the extent to which the Java Command Headquarters could be reconsti-
tuted, communication with Sumatra restored, and contact with Pak Dirman
achieved.
From Dekso we walked in the direction of Samigaluh. At dusk we
bivouacked, together with one of the units heading for West Java.
Among others, we saw Rukana there.3 4 Early the next morning, we reached
Samigaluh. Here we met the staff of the Siliwangi Division under the
command of Daan Jahja. Taswin,1* now a [deputy] brigade commander, and
Kemal,5 a battalion commander, were also there. I also saw a white
man, Princen.6 Mokoginta,7 the Commander of the Military Police, was
there too. Evidently, most of the Siliwangi troops had chosen the
route through Dekso, Samigaluh, and on west. This unquestionably
caused increasing difficulty in finding food in these areas, since as
a rule the troops purchased their supplies through the luvah or the
tjamat8 in places along their route.
3
Rukana commanded the military police battalion in the Bandung Regiment in the
fall of 1945.
4R. Taswin Almalik Natadiningrat was bom in Serang, West Java, in 1922. He
was a student at the Medical Faculty in Djakarta before the war. In 1945, he joined
the Badan Keamanan Rakjat (People*s Security Organization), a forerunner of the Indo-
nesian Army, and in 1946 he served as chief of the organization and personnel sec-
tion of the Tangerang Regiment under Daan Jahja. In 1946-47 he was Chief of Staff
of the Second Brigade of the Siliwangi Division. In 1948, he was assigned to Solo
and Jogjakarta. When the second Dutch action was launched, he returned to West Java
with his men; when the cease-fire was proclaimed, he represented the Republican
forces on the Cease-fire Joint Board in the Serang area.
^Kemal Idris was born in 1923. During the Japanese period, he joined the Peta,
and, after the Revolution began, he became commander of a battalion in the Tangerang
area. He later headed the First Battalion in the First Siliwangi Brigade, which was
quartered in Jogjakarta in 1948.
^Princen, a deserter from the Dutch army, went over to the Republican side and
became attached to the Siliwangi Division.
7
A. J. Mokoginta was bom in 1921. He attended the Royal Military Academy in
Bandung on the eve of the Second World War. From 1946 to 1947, he served as Chief of
Staff of the Third Brigade of the Siliwangi Division. For a period he also served
as ADC to General Urip Sumohardjo. In September 1948, he replaced Gatot Subroto as
Commander of the Military Police for the Java Command.
8
A tjamat is a sub-district chief; a lurah is a village chief.31
I learned from Lt. Col. Daan Jahja that on the morning of December
19 he had received the orders (which I had written at the Palace) to
have troops ready for escorting the President and others to Wonosari.
However, when by midday he had received no further news, he and his men
had left the city for West Java.
Daan and Taswin had been medical students in Djakarta during the
early days of the Japanese occupation. In line with efforts to "Japan-
izeM and militarize, or at least Msemi-militarize," everything, the
Japanese had required students to shave their heads. Since during the
Dutch period it had been constantly emphasized that students should be
independent, too independent perhaps, the Japanese measure had resulted
in student resistance. Daan Jahja had been among those whom the Japa-
nese considered the ringleaders of the resistance, a serious crime to
a totalitarian regime. Later, he had attended a Peta training course
and, after the Proclamation of Independence, had taken part in founding
the Military Academy at Tangerang.9 The cadets were generally young
men from families resident in Djakarta. Among the pemuda [activist
youth] buried at the Tangerang Heroes1 Cemetery, for instance, are two
children of the Margono19 family and a child of the Hadji Agus Salim11
family.
Many wives and children accompanied the troops. Apparently they
had left West Java earlier when their husbands' units had been evacu-
ated. Now, as the troops set off home for West Java after the Dutch
attack, what else could the wives do but follow? What would have been
their fate had they been left behind in the towns occupied by the
Dutch, in the midst of a strange community? During the four days of
my journey westward with the Siliwangi troops, I saw wives and children
joining the march, setting off into the dark, crossing rivers, and
climbing steep, slippery hills. I heard about cases of children who
had drowned while crossing flood-swollen rivers during pitch-dark
nights. Truly, we did not receive our independence as a gift.
That same day, December 21, we walked with Daan Jahja and some
members of his staff to Banjuasin. After four days of irregular meals,
9
In November 1945, the Republic sponsored the founding of a military academy
in Tangerang, near Djakarta. Maj. Daan Mogot served as its director, but, given its
proximity to Allied-occupied Djakarta, the academy did not long survive.
^R. M. Margono Djojohadikusumo was born in Probolinggo, East Java, in 1894.
He was graduated from the Civil Service Academy in 1911. During the colonial era he
pursued a career in the civil service, particularly in sections concerning government
credit and cooperatives. In 1942, he was made director of the People's Bank. After
the Revolution broke out, he became chairman of the Supreme Advisory Council, set up
in September 1945, and also the first chairman of the Indonesian State Bank. Two of
his sons, Subianto and Sujono, were killed on January 25, 1946, in Tangerang. An-
other son, Dr. Sumitro Djojohadikusumo, subsequently became the most prominent member
of Margono's family.
^Hadji Agus Salim was born in Kota Gedang, near Bukittinggi, West Sumatra, in
1884. He was one of the best known of the prewar nationalist leaders. He served as
a top leader of the Sarekat Islam and of its successor, the PSII, and was an important
publicist for modernist Islamic thinking. He was Deputy Foreign Minister in the
second and third Sjahrir cabinets and Foreign Minister in the Amir and the Hatta
cabinets. Several of his relatives, for example Sutan Sjahrir, also achieved promi-
nent positions in the Republic. His son, Ahmad Sjauket, was killed in 1946.32
that afternoon Daan Jahja provided us with delicious food. He had
bought a goat from a villager and we ate plain rice with sate and
gulai.12 "This is not a galgenmaalJahja said. "I hope not!" I
answered. Galgenmaal in Dutch means the delicious meal given to some-
body just before he is led to the gallows.
After the meal, we talked about how we had come to the present
situation and what was in store for us in the future. I said that, in
my own view, both sides had incorrectly assessed the situation follow-
ing the Renville Agreement. I thought that Bung Amir had been well
aware that, from the military as well as from the economic point of
view, the Renville Agreement was disastrous for us. Yet he had be-
lieved that, by yielding to the pressure of the Three-State Commission,
in particular the urging of Dr. Graham,13 he could "buy" a political
guarantee, especially from the United States, against another Dutch
attack. It seemed to me that many of our leaders had accepted this
line of thinking at that time. If the implementation of Bung Karno's
slogan "From the Bullet to the Ballot" could have been guaranteed by
the Three-State Commission, then history would have recorded the Ren-
ville Agreement as beneficial to us. Our mistake was that we had over-
estimated the effect of the Three-State Commission. Probably Bung
Amir himself had also overestimated Dr. Graham's personal statements.
This is not to imply that Dr. Graham tricked Bung Amir. My impression
had been that Dr. Graham was an honest person of real good will but
that van Zeeland, the Belgian representative on the Three-State Commis-
sion and a veteran European diplomat, was probably far more shrewd.
Furthermore, immediately after the signing of the Renville Agreement,
Dr. Graham had been called back to Washington. Perhaps this episode
demonstrated that we were still green in matters of diplomacy and inter-
national politics.
In several regions, particularly in East Sumatra and East Java,
production had increased several times over after we had evacuated them
in compliance with the Renville Agreement. In my conversations with
members of the Dutch delegation at Kaliurang, they had stressed this
fact. Apparently they had concluded:	"If we carry through our offen-
sive until the whole area of the Republic is occupied, we will soon
have production running smoothly, and 'peace and order' will be assured
again, as is the case in Dutch-occupied East Sumatra and East Java."
In these conversations, I had explained that the Dutch had drawn
a false conclusion. East Sumatra and the occupied area of East Java
had only become "secure" because the Republic had withdrawn its troops
and pemuda from these regions, while awaiting the time of their return
to the fold of the Republic through the ballot. I warned the Dutch
that, in case of attack, all this would radically change. The army and
the pemuda would return to these regions, which they had left because
of their faith in the slogan "From the Bullet to the Ballot," and then
Dutch "peace and order" would automatically disappear. I stressed over
and over again that, if the Dutch attacked, the Republic would also be
bound to use every means available against them, and that they should
not assume that a flood of anti-Dutch hatred, once released, could
easily be dammed, like stopping the flow of water from a pipe by merely
turning the tap.
12
Sate is an Indonesian barbecued-meat dish and gulai is a curry.
13
Dr. Frank Graham was the first American representative on the Committee of
Good Offices (the Three-State Commission).33
We had wrongly assessed the capability of the Three-State Commis-
sion when we accepted the Renville Agreement. On the other hand, the
Dutch had also miscalculated with regard to our power and capabilities
when they began their second attack. Just as we were bitterly disap-
pointed in the Three-State Commission, so too the Dutch would certainly
be disappointed in their expectations about their attack.
I remember telling my friends about a half-funny, half-serious
conversation between several members of the Dutch delegation and my-
self the last time they had come to Kaliurang, before the attack on
Jogjakarta. We had talked about van Mook's farewell speech over the
radio, when he retired from his position as Lieutenant Governor-General.
He had said, "We are standing on the top of Mount Nebo, we have seen
the promised land, but we have not yet entered it." What van Mook had
meant, no doubt, was that he was leaving Indonesia on the very threshold
of the formation of the United States of Indonesia. Those of us on the
Republic's side had thought van Mook's statement rather comic, since he
seemed to be making himself out as a prophet who had brought Indonesia
to the threshold of prosperity and happiness, like Moses, who had
brought the children of Israel to the gates of Canaan. In choosing
this comparison, however, van Mook had evidently forgotten that in
punishment for a sin which he had committed, Moses had not been allowed
to lead the children of Israel into the promised land but had only been
permitted to view it from the top of Mount Nebo. From the point of
view of the Republic, van Mook had sinned by launching the attack of
July 21, 1947. Did van Mook realize this as he made his speech?
So I had said, rather sarcastically: "Why did van Mook speak as
though he had the opportunity to see the promised land only from the
top of Mount Nebo? Surely, you gentlemen must know why Moses was not
allowed to enter the land of Canaan?" The Dutch had acted rather em-
barrassed for some moments. However, one of them then counterattacked
by asking:	"But perhaps you, sir, know who replaced Moses?" I had
nodded, acknowledging the appropriateness of the reply. Moses had
been replaced by Joshua who then led the Jewish troops in their attack
on Canaan. Joshua attacked Jericho, his troops encircling the town
walls. He sounded his trumpets and the walls of Jericho collapsed. I
had not misunderstood the subtle threat implied in the remark of the
Dutch delegate.
Now the threat had become reality. As with Joshua who attacked
Jericho after replacing Moses, so Beel had attacked Jogjakarta after
replacing van Mook. Joshua had sounded his trumpets and the walls of
Jericho had fallen. Beel had made a radio speech on the morning of
December 19, and, that very day, Jogjakarta had fallen into Dutch hands.
Such was the course of our conversation in the house of the lurah
of Banjuasin during the evening of December 21, as we sat around after
eating our fill of satd and gulai.
The next morning, December 22, the troops accompanying us were
going to cross the main highway between Magelang and Purworedjo. They
had chosen a point near the village of Djati. In only two days, our
whole conception of the meaning of roads, towns, and mountains had
changed completely. While we were in the towns, we really paid atten-
tion only to the towns and the roads connecting them; we hardly ever
thought about the areas to the right and left of these roads, or about
the mountain regions. After the towns had been attacked, our troops
had had to abandon them and head for the mountains. Seen from this
perspective, the towns and highways now represented alien things34
associated with the enemy. Beyond the towns and the highways, we could
maneuver and hold sway. At times, towns would have to be attacked, as
would the enemy using the main roads. Crossing a main road meant en-
tering enemy territory or, at the least, a no-man's land; therefore,
the move should preferably be taken at night and after thorough prepara-
tions .
The operation was to be conducted after sundown. Troops would be
stationed on both sides of the crossing point to guard against a sur-
prise attack. When sunset approached, the units that were going to
cross had already assembled some distance from the road. It was driz-
zling and the village paths were slippery. Many civilians had joined
the troops; among them was Chaerul Saleh,14 who apparently intended to
accompany the troops to West Java.
The signal was given. In single file, the troops moved forward,
crossed the road, went up a path, descended into a valley and forded a
swollen river, eventually reaching the village of Sukowuluh. Those of
us who carried nothing but a light knapsack--the staff of the Siliwangi
Division had provided me with a knapsack and some clothes --were very
tired when we finally reached Sukowuluh after midnight. Naturally,
the wives and children were even more exhausted. We slept in a house
in Sukowuluh, but Daan Jahja and Daeng went on ahead to see to the
troops in the vanguard.
Some time later, we heard shots, though it was not clear from
where they came. Dawn was breaking. The troops were evidently on the
alert and patrols were sent to reconnoiter. Soon afterwards we heard
more shots. Apparently a small enemy unit had been firing from a hill-
top but it rapidly withdrew as our forces in the Sukowuluh area were
fairly strong. For some hours patrols were deployed around the area,
but the enemy had apparently already left. Oddly enough, Daan Jahja and
Daeng had not yet reappeared. From various sources of information, we
later concluded that they had been sleeping in a small shop; at dawn,
a small enemy unit had attacked the shop and captured them.
The first shooting evidently had occurred during this attack.
After capturing the two men (who happened to be a divisional Chief of
Staff and a battalion commander), the enemy had hurriedly retired.
Later, another enemy unit had opened fire--just to create anxiety among
us. It seems that the feast at Banjuasin the day before really had
been a galgenmaal for Daan. (Only after our final return to Jogjakarta
would he be released from internment at Tjilatjap.) In a war like
this, a great deal depends on luck. If we had not stayed at Sukowuluh
when Daan Jahja and Daeng went ahead, perhaps we too would have had to
await the cessation of hostilities in a Dutch prison.
After the loss of Daan Jahja, the Siliwangi Division had no lead-
er; there had been no Division Commander, only a Chief of Staff, and
14
Chaerul Saleh was bom in Sawahlunto, West Sumatra, in 1916. He was active
in radical student politics while enrolled at the Law Faculty in Djakarta in the
1930's. During the Japanese occupation, he was among the most prominent pemuda in
Djakarta. He was one of the leaders of the celebrated "kidnapping" of Sukarno and
Hatta, on August 16, 1945, designed to force the two older leaders to declare Indone-
sia^ independence. He subsequently became involved in Tan Malaka's Persatuan Per-
djuangan coalition which opposed the diplomatic strategy of Sjahrir and Amir Sjari-
fuddin, and, in March 1946, he was arrested. Though soon released, he was rearrested
after the July 3, 1946 Affair, tried, and sentenced to prison. He escaped shortly
before the second Dutch attack.35
he now had to be regarded as missing. In theory, as Deputy Chief of
Staff of the Armed Forces, this was not my problem but that of the
Java Command. But as I happened to be on the spot when the problem
developed and as it was not clear for the moment where the Java Command
was, I felt that I should take some action. As I remember, the Brigade
Commanders of the Siliwangi Division at that time were:	Lt. Col.
Sadikin,15 Lt. Col. Kusno Utomo,16and Lt. Col. Taswin;17 of these Sadikin
was senior. For this reason I issued an emergency order appointing Lt.
Col. Sadikin as Acting Commander of the Siliwangi Division. As I wrote
out this order of appointment, Sitorus and Silitonga were beside me.
I gave the letter to Sitorus, who commanded a battalion, to be deliv-
ered to Lt. Col. Sadikin.
It was very hard for me to part with the Siliwangi troops at such
a moment. But I felt that I could not go with them to West Java; I had
to stay within reach of Jogjakarta to be able to follow further devel-
opments. From Sukowuluh the Siliwangi troops would go further west,
and I would go north to inspect the situation in the Mount Sumbing
area. I would then return to the Jogjakarta region.
What I had experienced during the couple of days I had marched with
the Siliwangi troops, they would certainly experience many times over
before reaching West Java--crossing roads and rivers, facing attacks,
walking on slippery mountain paths at night. In spite of this, I could
sense a kind of joy infusing these men, perhaps because, whatever else
was happening, they were heading toward their own homes in the beauti-
ful Parahijangan [Priangan] region.
After the signing of the Renville Agreement, I had been sent by
the government to West Java to arrange the "Hidjrah" of these troops.18
Now it was as though I was escorting them as far as Sukowuluh on their
march home to West Java.
It reminded me of a day just before the final decision had to be
made whether or not to accept the Renville Agreement. If I remember
Sadikin was born in Purwokerto, Central Java, in 1916. He was trained at the
non-commissioned officers* school of the KNIL, served with the KNIL from 1935 onward,
and attained the rank of sergeant. During the occupation, he was in the Heiho auxil-
iary troops, serving in Djakarta, Surabaja, and Semarang. When the Revolution broke
out, he became a battalion commander in the Djakarta area, and, in 1946, he headed the
Sixth Regiment (Tjikampek) in the Third Division. In February 1948, he commanded the
Fourth Siliwangi Brigade in Tasikmalaja, and, after the post-Renville evacuation, he
headed the Second Siliwangi Brigade, located in Surakarta. He led the Siliwangi
forces in putting down the Madiun uprising.
"^Kusno Utomo was born in 1919 and was a cadet in the Reserve Officers* Training
Corps (CORO) on the eve of the war. In November 1945, he was with the Regiment Head-
quarters in the Tasikmalaja area and in December 1945 was assigned as military police
commander in the Tangerang area. In May 1947, he was Chief of Staff of the Tjirebon
Brigade and in May 1948 he commanded the First Siliwangi Brigade, stationed in Jogja-
karta.
17
The Third Brigade was in fact headed first by Lt. Col. Edi Sukardi and subse-
quently by Maj. Sjamsu, not by Taswin.
18
Hidjrah [Hegira], the classical term for the Prophet Mohammad’s flight to
Medina before his triumphant return to Mecca, was commonly used in the Revolution to
describe the evacuation of Republican troops from parts of West Java to Central Java
following the stipulations of the Renville Agreement. Use of the word of course ex-
pressed the hope of an eventual triumphant return to West Java.36
correctly, Bung Amir could not leave Djakarta that day, so Dr. Leimena
and I flew to Jogjakarta in a Beachcraft airplane belonging to the
United States Navy. We had to return to Djakarta the same day, bring-
ing the Jogjakarta decision. Because time was limited, the President
and Vice-President came personally to Maguwo to hear the message we
brought and to make an immediate decision. Only the two of us were in
that small plane. From the very outset, both of us had followed the
developments leading up to these last moments in the negotiations. The
military commission, headed by Dr. Leimena, had conducted the initial
negotiations prior to the arrival in Djakarta of the political delega-
tion under Bung Amir. By the time the political delegation began to
negotiate, the talks between our military commission and its Dutch
counterpart had in fact already reached an impasse. The Dutch based
their stand on the "van Mook Line,"19 but we considered this "line"
only a figment of their imagination. We had traveled to and fro be-
tween Djakarta and Jogjakarta. Together with the delegation members,
we had followed the never-ending sessions of the "giant" cabinet, pre-
sided over by Bung Amir, which were held at the Presidential Palace in
Jogjakarta whenever our delegation returned to report. We had attended
the meeting at Kaliurang between the leaders of the Republic and the
members of the Three-State Commission, at which Dr. Graham had pro-
nounced his ambiguous words on being asked what the position of the
Republic would be in the event that the Renville Agreement was accepted:
"You are what you are." Nonetheless, at a quiet moment in the Beach-
craft plane, I posed the question, as it were, to myself: "Is this the
right road?" Oom Jo20 responded: "As fathers we will never give some-
thing bad to our children. I have been thinking over the problem we
are confronting and I am convinced we are on the right road." And I
knew that, when he said "our children," he meant, among others, these
boys of the Siliwangi Division who still had to walk some hundreds of
kilometers from Sukowuluh before arriving back home in West Java.
From Sukowuluh, Sasra, Muslimin, and I walked northward, together
with a number of young students who wanted to accompany us, through
Djumbleng, Tunggangan, and Pandansari until finally we reached Kali-
tengah. At Pandansari we met Maj . Wilujo;21he had been ordered by Col.
Bambang Sugeng to make contact with his Brigade Commanders, Lt. Col.
Jani22 in Kedu-Semarang, Lt. Col. Suharto23 in Jogjakarta, and Lt. Col.
Bachrun21* in Pekalongan-Banjumas.
19
The name applied by the Dutch to the military demarcation line established
after their first attack.
20
Dr. Leimena was often called Oom Jo by his close friends. Oom is the Dutch
for uncle and is used in much the same way as Pak, but especially for Ambonese and
Menadonese. Jo is an abbreviation for Johannes.
21
Wilujo Puspojudo was born near Pekalongan, Central Java, in 1919. During the
Japanese occupation, he was a middle-ranking Peta officer in Pekalongan. In the early
Revolution, he served as a staff officer in the same area. In 1947, he became an in-
telligence officer attached to the Seventeenth Regiment within the Third Division.
In 1948, he performed the same function at Third Division Headquarters in Magelang.
He became Assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces in Jogjakarta in
1949.
22
Achmad Jani was born in Purworedjo, Central Java, in 1921. He was enrolled
for special training in the Military Topography Service in 1940 and underwent field
training as a KNIL sergeant in 1941. During the Japanese occupation, he first joined
the Heiho in Magelang and in 1944 enrolled in the Peta. From 1945 to 1947, he headed37
The lurah of Kalitengah received us enthusiastically. He told us
he was a descendant of one of the followers of Prince Diponegoro.
Though we could not ascertain if this pedigree was accurate, his asser-
tion showed clearly that the stories about the Diponegoro war remained
a living thing for the people in this region. This would obviously be
a great advantage in carrying on the present people’s war. Perhaps,
for the people of these villages, the difference between the Diponegoro
war of 120 years ago and the present one was not so great. In the
past, Prince Diponegorofs allied princes and their followers had been
warmly welcomed by the lurah and villagers everywhere; now the lurah
and the villagers warmly greeted the colonels and their followers.
Pak Lurah and the people of Kalitengah entertained us cordially that
night.
the Fourth Battalion of the Fifth Division in Magelang. In 1948, he served as Com-
mander of the Ninth Brigade of the Third Division.
23
Suharto was bom in Jogjakarta in 1921. He received military training in
1940 under the Dutch. During the Japanese occupation, after a short period with the
police, he joined the Peta in Jogjakarta and Madiun. During the Revolution, he rose
rapidly from company commander until, in 1948, he was Brigade Commander for the
Jogjakarta Area.
2^Mohammad Bachrun was bom in Purwokerto, Central Java, in 1911. During the
colonial period he was a school teacher and active in the Jong Islamieten Bond and
the Gerakan Ahmadijah Indonesia, serving as secretary to the latter organization.
During the Japanese occupation, he joined the Peta and, when the Revolution began, he
became Commander of the Fifteenth Regiment in the Tjilatjap area. Subsequently, he
commanded the Sixteenth Regiment in Purwokerto and became Brigade Commander in that
region after May 1948.CHAPTER III
TURN OF THE YEAR
We stayed for three days at Kalibaru, a village not very different
from others where we had slept. We now went barefoot, for in the rainy
season we could walk more quickly on the slippery village paths without
out shoes on. If we wore our shoes, after three or four steps, they
became encased in mud, making each step difficult. The shoes also made
us slip easily, but if we walked barefoot, our toes automatically spread
apart, making our feet grip the slippery soil. So we had put our shoes
away in our knapsacks. In only a few days, we had become accustomed
to living like villagers.
We stayed at Kalibaru over Christmas, from December 24 to 26,
1948. We had no celebration at all, though we did discover why the
Dutch had given our people a "Christmas present" in the form of a mili-
tary attack.
Capt. Sudjono, who had shared my house in Jogjakarta, came to see
me at Kalibaru on his way to Pekalongan. He knew that region well and
intended to join the guerrilla movement there. Many officers who no
longer had any duties--for example, those who had worked in Jogjakarta
in the various administrative staffs--now set off for areas they knew
well in order to help organize the people's war there.
On the 27th we walked to Ropoh, as we had heard that the Governor
of Central Java, Mr. Wongsonegoro,1 was there. I was anxious to meet
and talk with the Governor who, though already quite elderly, had none-
theless managed to escape from Magelang when the Dutch came. We got
to Ropoh late in the afternoon. Some military people there confirmed
that the Governor was on the slope of Mount Sumbing but said we would
have to climb for a few hours more in order to meet him. Since it was
already getting dark, I wrote a letter and left it at Ropoh to be de-
livered to the Governor; it outlined the events of December 19 and my
views on further developments. Essentially, I believed that interven-
tion by the Security Council, and the world generally, would probably
not lead to an early solution; we had, therefore, to concentrate our
efforts on building a people's war front at home. In this regard, the
role of the pamong-pradja2 was extremely important, and the presence of
a Governor on the frontlines of the people's war was both valuable and
praiseworthy.
*Mr. K. R. M. T. Wongsonegoro was born in Surakarta in 1897. During the colo-
nial period he rose steadily in the civil service and also participated actively in
such nationalist organizations as Budi Utomo and Parindra. Toward the end of the
Japanese occupation, he became Vice-Resident of Semarang, and, after the Proclamation
of Independence, full Resident. Not long afterward, he was made Governor of Central
Java.
^Pamong-pradja is the name used since 1946 for the elite corps of the colonial
regional administration, previously known as the pangreh-pradja.
3839
The military people at Ropoh told me that, according to the rumors,
a cease-fire order had already been issued. The news apparently ema-
nated from nearby Magelang. However, they had no further, detailed
information. We spent the night at Kapalogo.
We then walked to Kalibawang since, according to the military
people at Ropoh, Col. Bambang Sugeng was somewhere near there. At
Kalibawang, we learned that Col. Sugeng, along with some members of
his staff and a few bodyguards, moved around continuously from one
village to another in the Kalibawang area. I wrote to Sugeng that I
would like to meet with him. Lt. Col. Bachrun, a Brigade Commander,
was also in the area, but his base was to the north of the main road
between Bandjarnegara, Wonosobo, and Magelang. I wrote to him too,
just to inform him that I was in the area, but saying that I might not
be able to meet with him. I gave the letters to the lurah, who assured
us that they would be delivered safely. It was my impression that the
villages we passed through had already become components in a people's
war apparatus. The local pemuda had organized as a sort of village
guard, and on our journey they acted as our guides, accompanying us as
far as the next village and turning us over to the pemuda there.
Maj. Sudarsono Rahardjodikromo also came to Kalibawang. He had
left Jogjakarta only some days after the Dutch occupation, and he re-
lated the stories circulating among our people in Jogjakarta at the
time he left--that the President and six ministers were in Singapore;
that Wiranatakusumah,3 * Head of the State of Pasundan, had resigned in
protest against the Dutch attack on the Republic; that Adil,1* the
Prime Minister of Pasundan, and Anak Agung,5 Prime Minister of East
Indonesia, had been arrested by the Dutch; that Djumhana6 had been
appointed to form a new cabinet in Pasundan; that the resolution on
the withdrawal of Dutch troops had been rejected in the Security Coun-
cil by 7 votes to 4; that the cease-fire order proposed by America had
3
R. A. A. Wiranatakusumah was bom in Bandung, West Java, in 1888. In the pre-
war period, he was successively Regent of Tjiandjur and Bandung. He was a member of
the Volksraad. Under the Japanese, he became senior adviser to the Department of the
Interior. After the Proclamation of Independence, he served as Minister of Internal
Affairs in the Sukarno cabinet (August to November 1945) and later as a member of the
Supreme Advisory Council. In 1948, he was elected Wali Negara (Head of State) of the
Dutch-sponsored state of Pasundan in West Java.
^Adil Puradiredja, a Sundanese aristocrat, was the first Resident of Priangan
after the Proclamation. Later he joined Pasundan.
^Anak Agung Gde Agung was born in Gianjar, Bali, in 1919, the son of the ruler
of Gianjar. During the colonial period, he studied at the Faculty of Law in Djakarta.
The Japanese appointed him the Kepala Daerah of Gianjar. After the Japanese defeat,
he became Foreign Minister in the first cabinet of the Dutch-sponsored state of East
Indonesia. He served successively as the Deputy Prime Minister in the second cabi-
net, Minister of the Interior in the third, and Prime Minister in the fourth such
cabinet. He was a founder of the BFO and the vice-chairman of its delegation to the
Round Table Conference in The Hague.
6Mr. R. Djumhana Wirjaatmadja was bom in Tjiandjur, West Java, in 1904. He
obtained a law degree from Leiden University. He worked in the colonial civil ser-
vice and was briefly a top leader of Jong Java. He rose to become Regent of Pande-
glang, West Java. He served as Minister of the Interior in the Dutch-sponsored state
of Pasundan. He was known to be sympathetic to the Republic.40
been adopted by the Security Council; that the Dutch were carrying on
a reign of terror in Jogjakarta; and that Mr. Masdulhak Nasution and
Mr. Santoso, the husband of Mr. Maria Ulfah,7 had been shot.
I merely listened and took notes. Though I felt that not all of
them were 100 per cent correct, yet certainly they contained an element
of truth. Clearly, fresh developments had occurred, both in the Secur-
ity Council and in the Indonesian states founded by the Dutch to coun-
terbalance the Republic. Nonetheless, the reports spreading in Jogja-
karta about arrests and resignations in these Dutch-created states
probably represented a bit of wishful thinking. The news, however,
strengthened my conviction that I should return to the Jogjakarta re-
gion after obtaining a general overview of the situation during the
first weeks after the Dutch attack.
On December 31, 1948, we were at Medono. Pak Budiono,8 the Resi-
dent of Banjumas, had chosen this village as the "capital" of the Resi-
dency during the people's war. Previously, he had moved the seat of
his administration to Bandjarnegara, after the original capital, Purwo-
kerto, had been occupied by the Dutch after their first attack.
Sumendro, the Regent of Wonosobo, was also at Medono.
I saw the wives of several pamong-pradja officials there too.
They had obviously joined their husbands on evacuating the towns. No
wonder there was a city flavor in the dishes served at dinner that
night. Exactly at midnight on December 31, 1948, we drank a toast from
glasses filled with leg£n [unfermented palm sap] in place of champagne.
The atmosphere at this New Year's party at Medono exuded confi-
dence and hope. Having observed the situation for the more than ten
days following the Dutch attack on Jogjakarta, I personally believed
that the Dutch did not have sufficient strength to crush us, though it
was also true that we were still in no position to launch large-scale
attacks on the towns, indeed we were still not even completely reorgan-
ized. Yet if the Dutch proved unable to crush us, eventually time
would be on our side. Were the confidence and hope reflected on the
faces of the others present based on similar calculations, or did their
conviction of our ultimate victory have a deeper source? At Sitikan,
a couple of days later, Ali Budiardjo9 explained that the year 1879 of
the Javanese calendar, that is to say, between November 1948 and Novem-
ber 1949, was a year of calamity, but that in November 1949, i.e., the
7
Mr. R. A. Maria Ulfah Santoso Wirodihardjo was bom in Serang, West Java, in
1911. During the colonial and Japanese periods she worked in the civil administra-
tion and was active in nationalist women’s organizations. She served as Minister of
Social Affairs in the second and third Sjahrir cabinets.
g
R. Budiono was born in Bodjonegoro, East Java, in 1905. He was educated at
the Civil Service Academy and, during the Dutch and Japanese periods, had a success-
ful career in the civil service. When the Revolution began, he became a member of
the Central National Committee of Indonesia (KNIP), attached to the Prime Minister’s
office. After August 1946, he was Resident of Banjumas and later Governor of Central
Java.
q
Mr. M. Ali Budiardjo was bom in Jogjakarta, Central Java, in 1913. Before
and during the war, he worked for the government in a legal capacity. He served as
the private secretary to Sutan Sjahrir during the latter’s three administrations.
Thereafter he joined the Republican delegation in negotiations with the Dutch. At
the end of 1949, his sister married Simatupang.41
beginning of the year 1880 of the Javanese calendar, the situation
would improve. To what extent did this belief strengthen and encourage
our people on the island of Java during the people's war against the
Dutch?
Once, prior to the second Dutch attack, I had visited Pak Budiono
and Sumendro at Wonosobo and Bandjarnegara. I think it was Sumendro
who told me about a peculiar interpretation of Djojobojo's10 predictions
then current among a number of "leaders" staying in the Wonosobo area.
According to this interpretation, when the golden age was about to
dawn, every "leader" would have two wives, that is, at least two.
Accordingly, as Sumendro told it, the "leaders" in the area were rush-
ing to take wives under the slogan:	"Let's follow Djojobojo."
On January 1, we heard from one of the posts we passed through
that Beel had made a speech stating that an agreement had been reached
with all "member states" [deelstaten] except the Republic. Apparently
the Dutch were trying to sell the idea that they had attacked the Re-
public on behalf of the member states. What was the real attitude of
people in these member states, people like Adil, Anak Agung and the
others? Beel reportedly had also said that the cease-fire had become
effective on Java on December 31, 1948, and would be extended to Suma-
tra several days later. This was definitely nonsense, illogical. Who
could be deceived by this statement? The outside world would certainly
realize that it made no sense whatever. How could a cease-fire be de-
clared unilaterally, in a situation where there was no clear demarca-
tion line between the armies on each side? Well, we concluded, let
the Dutch drown in their own lies.
On January 2, 1949, we arrived at Dempel in a mountainous area
south of Wonosobo. Tobing and Amir Hamzah Siregar happened to be
there. They were with a Siliwangi unit heading for West Java. Amir
Hamzah was a former "Digulist.M11 During the Second World War, the
Dutch had moved him to Australia, and he had only returned to Indonesia
after the war was over. Recently he had become an assistant to the
Information Staff of the Defense Ministry. His thinking was as clear
and penetrating as ever, his heart as enthusiastic as always, but
physically Amir Hamzah had been ruined by his internment. This, too,
was for the sake of Indonesia's Independence.
At Dempel, I met Col. Bambang Sugeng. I learned that the town of
Magelang had been abandoned after destruction of its main buildings.
Later, I saw for myself that Magelang had probably been the most "per-
fectly" destroyed town at the time of the second Dutch attack, in line
with our scorched-earth tactics. Generally speaking, all the plans
laid down in advance had now been carried out; the command headquarters
and fighting units now occupied the fail-back positions previously pre-
pared. Some units had already moved "h la Wingate"12 to regions earlier
^Djojobojo was a twelfth-century ruler of Kediri to whom many millenarian
prophecies are attributed by Javanese tradition.
**A "Digulist" is a former internee at the Dutch prison camp in Boven Digul,
West Irian.
12
The reference is to General Orde Wingate (1903-1944). This British Army
officer won an initial reputation in Palestine in the mid-1930's when he helped to
organize and lead guerrilla forces during the Arab revolt. He further showed his
talents for unorthodox military operations in successfully leading Ethiopian and43
evacuated under the Renville Agreement. Naturally, everything seemed
somewhat confused at first, and psychologically it took time to adjust
our thinking and way of life to the new circumstances. Nonetheless,
gradually things began to run smoothly. I had got this same impression
during my ten days of traveling. Now we headed back to Dekso.
While at Dempel something rather funny and strange happened. As
we were resting in one of the houses there, we heard angry voices in
the kitchen. Apparently our host was having a quarrel with his wife.
In itself this was no surprise:	Is there anyone who has never quar-
reled with his wife? What was strange was that they spoke in French.
I could not judge whether it was good French or not, but they spoke it
quickly and fluently. Later on we discovered that the family had lived
for a long time as laborers in New Caledonia, a French colony. Who
would have expected to hear a villager and his wife quarreling in
French in the mountainous area south of Wonosobo?
We learned at Kalitengah that Harjono was looking for us and had
left only the day before for Pandansari. Under circumstances where
reliable news was rare and inadequate, the air was full of rumors. At
Kalitengah, for example, we heard stories that the President and the
ministers were in Djakarta and that they had been released by the
Dutch. Was it possible that this news had been circulated in the towns
by the Dutch themselves? Reports said that the Sultan had been offered
the post of Recomba13 by the Dutch, but had refused it. Another rumor
was going around that Tan Malaka1*1 planned to establish a new Republic.
Hearing all these various rumors, I concluded that we must arrange for
a systematic flow of information to the people.
Sudanese forces against the Italian occupying forces in Abyssinia in 1940-41. He
reached the peak of his fame, however, by his command of a mixed brigade of British,
Gurkha, and Burmese guerrillas, later known as the "Chindits” or "Wingate’s Raiders’*
in Burma in the years 1942-44. Supplied from the air, his small force was able to
penetrate and remain for weeks far behind Japanese lines, largely as a result of his
flair for guerrilla warfare.
13
Recomba is an acronym for Regeringscommissaris voor Bestuursaangelegenheden
(Government Commissioner for Administrative Affairs). He was the chief official in
the military government of the Dutch-sponsored states and directly responsible to
the High Commissioner.
14Sutan Ibrahim gelar Datuk Tan Malaka was born in Suliki, West Sumatra, prob-
ably in 1897. He was one of the most prominent of the early leaders of the Indone-
sian Communist Party (PKI). For a time he acted as Comintern representative for
Southeast Asia. Because he actively opposed the decision to launch the 1926-27
communist insurrection in Indonesia, he fell out with other party leaders, being
branded by them as a Trotskyite. After many years in exile, mainly in China, he
returned to Indonesia clandestinely, in 1942, shortly after the Japanese attack.
After the Proclamation of Independence, he led the Persatuan Perdjuangan, a coali-
tion opposed to the Sjahrir-Amir governments. He was arrested in March 1946, but
was released during the Madiun Affair in September 1948, in the hope that his sup-
porters would then help the government to crush the orthodox communist leadership.
After the second Dutch attack, he moved to East Java and apparently tried to rally
resistance around himself by claiming that the Sukarno-Hatta leadership had betrayed
the Republic. He was captured and shot by an Indonesian army unit in February
1949.44
At Kalibaru, we met Lt. Col. Sarbini's staff. Lt. Col. Sarbini15
had charge of the Sub-Territory Command in the Residency of Kedu. From
his staff, I learned that gradually the military and civilian organiza-
tions in the Kedu region had started to work again.
At Sitikan we met Ali Budiardjo. Ali had been in the delegation
that had negotiated with the Dutch and the Three-State Commission prior
to the Dutch attack. He had fled the town along with Suwarto16and a
number of members of the Student Brigade. The latter, however, went
on to West Java, while Ali remained in Central Java. In Sitikan there
was an emergency hospital with fairly complete equipment and staff.
This hospital had been prepared some time before the beginning of the
Dutch attack.
We left for Bopon to cross the main highway between Purwokerto and
Magelang, but our military post there thought it better to wait a while,
since the road still was considered unsafe. For several days, we re-
connoitred around Siruho where Maj . Murdiman, the City Military Com-
mander of Magelang, was staying with the local Regent. The latter,
though an elderly man with white hair, had not hesitated to join in
leading the people's war in his region. Since leaving Magelang, he
had assumed the "nom-de-guerre" of Yudonegoro.
At Gedangan, we were visited by Lt. Col. Abimanju.17 He was on his
way to West Java carrying a letter from Col. Nasution, the Java Army
and Territory Commander, appointing him Commander of the Siliwangi Divi-
sion. The news that Lt. Col. Daan Jahja had been captured was evidently
now well known so that the Java Army and Territory Commander felt it
necessary to designate a new commander, apparently not knowing that I
had already appointed Lt. Col. Sadikin. As a result, throughout the
people's war, there were two Siliwangi Commanders in West Java:	Lt.
Col. Sadikin, with headquarters in the Sumedang area, and Lt. Col. Abi-
manju with headquarters in the Tjirebon area. Only after the govern-
ment's return to Jogjakarta was the problem of this double leadership
settled.
On January 12, 1949, we arrived at Dekso via Bopon, Tjatjaban, and
Argosari. Here we learned that Lt. Col. Sukanda, who had been the
^Sarbini had formerly been a Peta officer in Kedu. During the Revolution he be-
came Regimental Commander in	Magelang. In 1948, he headed	the	Kedu Sub-Territory
Command and served as the Military Governor	of Kedu during	and	after the Madiun
Affair.
^Suwarto was born in Semarang, Central Java, in 1921. He studied at the Ban-
dung Technical Faculty and on the eve of the war enrolled as a cadet at the Reserve
Officers' Training School. During the Japanese occupation, he worked in judicial
institutions in Magelang and Semarang. After the Proclamation of Independence, he
was active in coordinating the various student military groups and became deputy com-
mander of the students' military units in Jogjakarta which were incorporated into the
Siliwangi Division after May 1948.
17
Abimanju was born in	1919 and was a	subordinate of	Sudirman's in the Peta	of
the Banjumas area. Later he	was Sudirman's	first ADC when	the	latter became Panglima
Besar. In 1946, he succeeded Bachrun as Commander of the Tjilatjap Regiment. After
May 1946, he headed the Fifth Brigade of the Siliwangi Division, stationed in the
Tjirebon area. In September 1948, he became Chief of Staff to the Military Governor
of Surakarta and in 1949 he was attached to Java Command Headquarters in Jogjakarta.45
senior officer in charge at the Java Command Headquarters at the time
of the Dutch attack on Jogjakarta on December 19, 1948, had first
assembled the staff of the Headquarters at Dekso, but, a few days prior
to my arrival there, had then left for West Java along with Lt. Col.
Suprajogi and Lt. Col. Dr. Rubijono. That night, over the jungle
radio, news broadcasts by various stations gave us a rather complete
picture of world developments with regard to the war in Indonesia.
At Dekso I heard that, on his way back from East Java, Col. Nasu-
tion had ordered his train to stop somewhere before Jogjakarta, since
the Dutch were already there by then. Subsequently, he and the offi-
cers in his retinue, including Col. Dr. Mustopo,18 settled on the south-
ern slope of Mount Merapi. As a result, it seemed in the beginning as
if there were two Java Command Headquarters, one at Dekso under Lt.
Col. Sukanda and another on the slope of Mount Merapi. Soon the prob-
lem was settled by denoting the headquarters at Dekso as an ordinary
post under the Java Command Headquarters, one of many similar posts
gradually increasing all across Java. I was able immediately to estab-
lish regular correspondence with the Java Army and Territory Commander
through a courier.
We still had no definite news about Pak Dirman, but we did find
out for certain that he had headed east, after initially going south
at the time of the Dutch attack on Jogjakarta.
Communications with Sumatra still had not been reestablished, but
some officers from the Signal Corps said they expected that before long
it would be possible to send the first cables there. As a matter of
fact, telecommunication with Sumatra was restored by the end of Janu-
ary, and after that we could send news via Sumatra to our representa-
tives in New Delhi. Later on I learned that telecommunication between
Sumatra and New Delhi always had to make use of an intermediary sta-
tion, Rangoon, where the Burmese Army put a transmitter at the disposal
of our men. During this period, Radio New Delhi frequently broadcast
news items sent by us from Java; this naturally had a very favorable
effect on our morale.
Communications with the city of Jogjakarta were also rapidly re-
established. On the second day after our return to Dekso, I was able
to send a letter to Dr. Halim,19who was in the city, and soon after-
wards I received his answer.
So one could say that within approximately one month after the
Dutch attack, we had restored our basic organization, though naturally
on a different basis than when we were still in Jogjakarta. Our vari-
ous headquarters which had once been in the cities were now in the
18
Dr. R. Mustopo was born near Kediri, East Java, in 1913. He obtained a de-
gree in dentistry before the war. During the Japanese occupation he became a high
officer in the Peta. He was a leading figure in the defense of Surabaja against the
British assault in November 1945. In March 1946, he was appointed to the Political
Staff of the Ministry of Defense. He was subsequently active in the Biro Perdjuangan
organized by Amir Sjarifuddin as a body to coordinate non-TNI paramilitary groups.
19
Dr. Abdul Halim was bom in Bukittinggi, West Sumatra, in 1911. He was
graduated from the Djakarta Medical Faculty in 1940. A close friend of Sjahrir, he
belonged to the fifteen-member Working Committee of the KNIP, formed in October 1945,
which made possible Sjahrirfs elevation to the Prime Ministership in November.46
mountains in the regions of Menoreh, Mount Merapi, Mount Sumbing, Mount
Lawu, Mount Kawi, and so on. Our troops were both in the mountains and
in the plains around the occupied cities, and inside these cities, of
course, we still had our organization. By establishing a system of
couriers which gradually covered almost the whole area of Java, corre-
spondence could be maintained regularly, though naturally rather slowly.
How did we evaluate our situation at this stage? Were we satis-
fied? Obviously not. We were aware that our situation was by no means
perfect, but at least we could say that we had not been crushed nor
could we be crushed. By making the best use of our time, we would be
able to form an organization that could develop with ever increasing
complexity within the limits of our capabilities.
As an example of the direction of our thinking in those days let
me quote parts of my diary.
EVALUATION OF THE SITUATION AS OF DECEMBER 29, 1948
(Written at Kalibawang)
I. International intervention
Reports received on the international reaction to the Dutch aggression
are still very limited. Several countries did take measures prior to the
Security Council session. The following actions are known:	India has banned
Dutch aircraft from landing in its territory; Australia has boycotted Dutch
ships; Egypt has closed the Suez Canal to Dutch ships; and the United States
has suspended Marshall Plan aid to the Netherlands.
Meanwhile, according to the news, the Security Council has held a session
at the request of the United States, and a cease-fire resolution has been
adopted. The complete text of the resolution and its proper interpretation
are by no means clear as yet. We only know that the Three-State Commission
is searching for ways to implement it. It is not clear to what extent the
resolution makes the Three-State Commission responsible for the realization
of the cease-fire. It is also still not known to what extent the Security
Council resolution has given us the right to demand the withdrawal of Dutch
troops to a definite position.
The situation is certainly very complex. The Dutch have occupied the
big towns throughout Java; practically speaking, all Regency capitals and
probably most of the District capitals are occupied. Some of our troops have
crossed the status quo line. How will it be possible, under such circum-
stances, to carry out the cease-fire order while maintaining conditions es-
sential for the peoplefs livelihood? The order can only be carried out if
the Dutch troops are withdrawn, or if the Republican army is abolished. Un-
questionably we are aiming at the former.
To achieve our objective, we need to make the following efforts:	(1) the
Indonesian problem should remain on the agenda of the Security Council and
the United Nations; (2) sanctions and boycotts against the Dutch should be
continued; (3) the influence of the United Nations and the Three-State Com-
mission should be used to prevent the Dutch from expanding the deployment of
their military forces in Indonesia (the presence in Indonesia of the Dutch
Armed Forces will cost a great deal of money every day); and (4) we should
rapidly improve our organization for waging a protracted and total people’s
war. The first three items are diplomatic problems, whereas the fourth is a
domestic military-political-economic problem, which we must tackle with all
the energy and strength at our disposal.47
II.	Improving our organization for
a protracted total peoplefs war
In our system a total peoplefs war is based on two factors:	the exist-
ence of a complete territorial organization in the political, economic, and
military sense; and the existence of mobile units capable of launching lim-
ited as well as more extensive operations so as to shift the initiative into
our hands.
The Security Council resolution is likely to slow down operations tempo-
rarily to a considerable extent. We should quickly avail ourselves of this
opportunity to overcome the mistakes and shortcomings which have become obvi-
ous during these first weeks.
III.	Territorial organization seen from the
political-military-economic perspective
Without waiting for the reformation in a wider sense of the Staff of the
Armed Forces and the Java Command Headquarters, the lower territorial organ-
izations (the levels of Military Governor; Sub-Territory Command, covering
a Residency; Military District Command, covering a Regency; Military Sub-
District, covering a Sub-District; and the village) should be rapidly im-
proved and strengthened, since these are the real foundations for carrying
on our struggle.
In this respect priority should be given to organizations carrying out
this territorial work. Experience so far as shown that the lurah are hardly
aware of any leadership from the Military Sub-Districts.
Generally speaking, the lurah show great willingness and competence in
performing their duties; nonetheless, clearly the lurah need to have a mili-
tary man alongside, someone who knows something of the possibilities of uti-
lizing village manpower in a peoplefs war--for instance, maintenance of
field security (including alarm-giving, collecting and transmitting news,
counter-espionage, spreading rumors to deceive the enemy), destruction of
roads, and so on. This military man must also be capable of training the
village pemuda, of giving simple political information, and, together with
the lurah, of supervising donations given by the village to our struggle.
In other words, the presence of this military man should ensure the continued
functioning of the village as a Republican village, even in the event that
vertical communications links are broken or become considerably restricted.
As there are now a great number of military personnel with no definite
duties, we should select some who, after being given instructions and brief
training, can be assigned permanently to certain villages. At the Military
Sub-District level, we should consider whether the personnel who have been
assigned are really capable of discharging their duties. At the Military
District Command level, a section may be established to unify the political
nuclei in the Regency by forming a political front against the Dutch.
IV.	Mobile units
So far we have apparently still not taken the initiative into our hands
in a great number of regions. In addition to our defense and supply capabil-
ities, both of which are the duties of the territorial organizations, we must
also create a strike capability. This should be the task of more mobile
units. The army can only maintain its popularity if mobile troops achieve
some victories. We should, therefore, launch offensives continuously, whe-
ther major or minor.48
On January 12, 1949, I went over a number of problems in my diary.
First of all the social developments during the people's war are bring-
ing the townspeople and villagers closer together. Will this trend
contain the basis for closer links between village and town in the days
to come, when the people's war is over? It would be very regrettable
if this closer relationship were to be confined to the period of this
people's war.
From the economic point of view, the present struggle is a contest
between the urban economy and the village economy or, more broadly, the
rural economy. If we are preparing to wage a protracted people's war,
then we must consider more carefully and thoroughly what are the
strengths and possibilities offered by the rural economy and the weak-
nesses (or the "Achilles heel") of the urban economy.
The political aspects touched on in my notes concerned the need
to have an official leadership for the struggle in Java, one that would
be representative vis-a-vis the government in Sumatra and, if neces-
sary, vis-sl-vis third parties in Java. What I had in mind was how to
avoid any question about who were the competent people, in the event
we in Java had to face some fundamental political decision.
Accordingly, in a cable to the government in Sumatra, I proposed
establishing a Directorium in Java, whose members would consist of the
Panglima Besar of the Armed Forces and the ministers active locally in
the people's war, i.e., Ministers Supeno,20Maskur,21Susanto,22Kasimo,23
20
Supeno was born in Tegal, Central Java, in 1916. On the eve of the Second
World War, he was a nationalist student leader in Djakarta. During the occupation,
he worked in the Department of Justice but was also a leading figure in semi-under-
ground youth activities. Closely associated with Sjahrir and Amir Sjarifuddin, he
became an important member of the KNIP’s Working Committee in October 1945. He was
a top Socialist Party leader and took Sjahrir1s side when the latter broke with Amir
in the spring of 1948. He was Minister of Development and Youth in the Hatta cabi-
net.
21
K. H. Maskur was born in Singosari, East Java, in 1899. He received a reli-
gious education in Java and became a religious teacher in Singosari. He was a lead-
ing figure in the traditionalist Islamic organization, Nahdatul Ulama. He served as
Minister of Religion in the Amir and Hatta cabinets.
22Mr. M. Susanto Tirtoprodjo was born in Surakarta, Central Java, in 1900.
After obtaining his law degree from the University of Leiden in 1925, he worked in
the colonial judiciary. He was active in the conservative nationalist political party,
Parindra. In 1941, he was appointed Mayor of Madiun and continued in this post under
the Japanese. Later he became, successively, Regent of Patjitan, Regent of Ponorogo,
and, after the Proclamation of Independence, Resident of Madiun. He was Minister of
Justice in the third Sjahrir, the Amir, and the Hatta cabinets.
27
Ignatius Josephus Kasimo was bom in Jogjakarta, Central Java, m 1900. He
worked in the civil bureaucracy under both the Dutch and Japanese regimes. He served
in the Volksraad from 1931 to 1942 and was an active member of Catholic political
organizations. He became First Deputy Minister of Prosperity in the Amir Cabinet
and Minister of People’s Food Supply in the Hatta cabinet. He was also a top leader
of the Catholic Party. He sat on the Indonesian delegation in the talks with the
Dutch.49
and Sukiman.21f
The government in Sumatra believed that political power and mili-
tary leadership should be kept separate and, therefore, disapproved the
Panglima Besar's participation in the proposed body. Eventually on the
basis of a decision by the government in Sumatra, a Central Government
Commissariat in Java was formed.
Thus, the center of the government at that time was in Sumatra,
only its "Commissariat" was in Java. While at Dekso (which lay quite
close to the temples of Borobudur and Mendut), I noted jokingly:	"Some
scholars think that the temples of Borobudur and Mendut were built when
the center of the government was in Sumatra, at the time when Sriwi-
djaja and Central Java were ruled by the Sailendra dynasty. Perhaps,
now that the center of the government is in Sumatra, a new epoch of
grandeur for our nation is about to begin."
In mid-January, I recorded the following conclusions in my diary:
After four weeks of fighting the extent of the influence exerted by
international factors has become clear. We can also assess the strength and
the determination of the Federalists as well as our own internal strength.
But, taken together, these factors still cannot guarantee an early settle-
ment of our dispute with the Dutch.
I noted that we faced three main problems:
1.	How to make this people's war more effective, that is to say, more wide-
spread and with more tangible results, including in relation to the inter-
national community.
2.	How to make sure that we can wage a long war if it proves necessary.
3.	How to create the conditions needed for national prosperity when the war
eventually ends.
However, I also added to these notes that there was no need to discuss
the third problem extensively for the time being.
Dr. H. Sukiman Wirjosandjqjo was born near Surakarta, Central Java, probably
in 1898. He obtained a medical degree from the University of Amsterdam in 1925 and
during his study was active in the Perhimpunan Indonesia, serving as its chairman in
1924. On his return to Indonesia, he participated actively in Tjokroaminoto's mod-
ernist Islamic political party, the PSII, but later broke with the leadership and
founded his own party, the PII (Indonesian Islamic Party). When the Revolution broke
out, he was elected chairman of the largest Islamic party, the Masjumi. He served
as Minister of the Interior in the Hatta cabinet.CHAPTER IV
BANARAN
During the sessions of the Military Strategy Council in the months
prior to the Dutch attack, I had argued that, in the event of an attack,
the enemy would do their best to crush our forces in the first stages
of the fighting. In the words of Clausewitz, the Dutch would attempt
a rapid Vernichtung (annihilation) of our forces. For our part, we
should first avoid this Vernichtung and thereafter try to exhaust the
enemy and destroy his will to continue a long drawn-out struggle. The
German military historian, Hans Delbriick, termed such a program an
Ermattung (attrition) plan. To activate this strategy, I suggested
that we form major and minor defense areas called Wehrkreise, each with
the capability to continue the struggle even in total isolation. (A
great number of German books on military theory were being studied by
some of the officers in Jogjakarta in those days.)
From earlier conversations with the Dutch, it was clear that they
(particularly their military men) did not understand the nature of the
forces they were facing. They had adequate information on the strength
of our army, i.e., our armaments, the disposition of our troops, the
names and biographies of our commanders. This we knew from the NEFIS1
reports which occasionally fell into our hands. Sometimes these NEFIS
reports contained more complete information concerning our troops in
different regions than was available to the leadership of our own Armed
Forces. Apparently, however, the Dutch had not comprehended how the
spirit of our people had changed since 1942, when the Japanese kicked
the Dutch out of Indonesia. They could not understand the strength of
the aspirations that constituted the driving force of our struggle,
both among the members of the Armed Forces and among the general public.
It was difficult, of course, for these Dutch military men with
their conventional military training to understand the forces they now
faced. Many of them had served in the former Netherlands Indies for so
long that they continued to view the new situation through their old
spectacles. Obviously they had convinced the Dutch government that a
surprise attack and the capture of the Republican political leaders
would soon crush the Indonesian National Army, or at least force it to
surrender. They apparently also believed that, once this was achieved,
the outside world would allow them a free rein in Indonesia.
One month after the Dutch attack on Jogjakarta, we at Dekso con-
cluded that, for us, the most critical phase of the war was over. We
had managed to preserve ourselves from Vernichtung. However, we were
not in a position to crush the Dutch military forces or drive them into
the sea in the foreseeable future. My own observations over the past
month confirmed this evaluation. In addition, two things strengthened
my view; the first was something I learned from Lt. Col. Sudarto, the
other something I saw and experienced myself.
1
NEFIS is an acronym for Netherlands Eastern Forces Intelligence Service.
5051
At Banter, a short distance from Kenteng, there was a small Dutch
post; its force amounted at most to one company. Sudarto said that we
had already attacked this post three times using units from the vicini-
ty of the post plus reinforcements brought in from elsewhere, including
some from near Wates. Yet our efforts failed. This showed that we
could not as yet seize or rout a fairly weak Dutch position, even by
concentrating all the available troops for the attack. One could also
say, however, that the Dutch did not gain much by retaining their post
at Banter, since only a few hundred meters beyond it, our village ad-
ministration could function normally and our military forces could be
freely deployed.
The second thing I witnessed myself during a visit to the command
of Lt. Col. Suhud on the western fringes of Jogjakarta. After evacu-
ating the city, he had gathered some armed units together into a Wehr-
kreise. At the time of the Dutch attack, Suhud had not commanded any
troops, since he held a position at the Ministry of Defense. At the
very moment of my visit to the Wehrkreise--1 still remember the date,
January 28, 1949, since it was my twenty-ninth birthday--the Dutch attacked.
They almost captured Suhud, Latif, and me, because we were busy talking
in a kampung house when the shooting broke out. We only just managed
to escape into a nearby corn field. Soon the shooting died down, and
the Dutch troops apparently returned to the main road. Dozens of
people had been wounded or killed and several homes had been burned by
the enemy, including the one which had served as the headquarters for
the Wehrkreise.
In spite of this, the Wehrkreise immediately resumed its opera-
tions after the "intermezzo" of the Dutch attack, launching small-scale
night attacks on Dutch posts in the fringe areas. This experience
demonstrated to me that a Dutch attack was incapable of destroying a
Wehrkreise, even one which had only a small armed force as its nucleus
and which functioned only a stone's throw from Jogjakarta--headquarters
of the Tiger Brigade, the pride of the Dutch Army.
Given the existing circumstance of a military stand-off, in what
direction would the situation now develop? The answer depended on
three points:	would the Dutch be able to increase their forces dras-
tically in the coming months; would we be able to increase our own
forces; and would international forces be able to exert a decisive in-
fluence on developments in Indonesia?
In view of these problems, we would have to pursue the following
course in the coming months:	first, to direct our efforts toward weak-
ening the Dutch forces and preventing their reinforcement; to increase
our own forces; and to work to ensure that international forces would
exert an influence favorable to us. On the other side, the Dutch would
undoubtedly pursue similar goals vis-&-vis the Republic.
To what extent would the Dutch be able to increase their forces
drastically during the coming months? We at Dekso believed that the
Dutch had been at the peak of their strength when they attacked us,
and that they could not send many more fresh troops from the Nether-
lands, partly now that so many Asian countries had banned the Dutch
from passing through them.
How far would it be possible for us to increase our own forces
substantially in the near future? Our organization and work methods
left considerable room for improvement, though, on Java, the instruc-
tions being issued by the Java Command Headquarters would gradually52
bring about such improvements. Further experience and training would
also increase our military skills. Fresh manpower could be mobilized,
both from the villages and the towns, particularly among the students.
The peoplefs war could be extended gradually to those regions in Java
and Sumatra which the Dutch now considered "secure.” It was not impos-
sible that, at some future date, the peoplefs war could even be carried
to other islands, in particular Sulawesi and Kalimantan. All this
meant that there existed possibilities for us to increase our strength
in the months and, if need be, the years to come.
Alongside these advantages, however, were factors detrimental to
any fundamental increase in our strength, that is, fiscal, economic,
and armaments problems. On an elementary level, we could finance the
peopleTs war by relying upon the economic capacities of the villages--
for example, by collecting donations in the form of rice and so on.
The long-range problem was more difficult, and sooner or later we would
have to find ways of printing our own currency. More difficult still
was the question of arms. We could build any number of small workshops
for repairs, but the problem of how to import arms and ammunition from
abroad seemed insoluble for the time being. Of course, there remained
the possibilities of seizing arms from the enemy or buying them clan-
destinely in the occupied towns, but the latter would only be possible
if the enemy troops became so demoralized that they would be willing
to sell their arms. Furthermore, we would need money to buy them. In
conclusion, though plenty of opportunity existed for gradually increas-
ing our strength by improving our organization and methods of work,
mobilizing fresh manpower, developing our skills through experience,
and conducting intensive training, nonetheless the potential for any
fundamental increase in our strength during the coming months was
tightly restricted by financial, economic, and armaments factors.
To what extent would international forces have a decisive influ-
ence on developments in Indonesia in the near future? Before the
second Dutch attack, our people had tended to overestimate the signifi-
cance of the international factor, which we saw as being represented
in our country by the Three-State Commission. We had calculated that
it would be able to prevent the Dutch from carrying out their plan to
attack us. After the Dutch assault on Jogjakarta, the concern of the
outside world over developments in Indonesia, rather than declining,
increased. The Asian nations convened a special conference in New
Delhi to discuss what kinds of punitive steps they could take against
the Dutch, and the Security Council discussed the Indonesian question
on several occasions. It appeared that, in the following months, these
international forces would continue to influence developments in Indo-
nesia. As it seemed likely that neither we nor the Dutch would achieve
a definitive military victory in the near future, it was not impossible
that international developments would have a rather decisive influence
upon events in Indonesia.
What could be accomplished by the Armed Forces Staff in the next
few months? It seemed to me that the Armed Forces Staff needed to
follow very carefully both military developments (our own and those of
the Dutch) and the course of international politics, seeking to influ-
ence as far as possible events in the direction most favorable to our
cause.
I asked Maj. Gani,2 who was in charge of the Java Command Head-
2
Abdul Gani Suradipura was born in Djatibarang, West Java, in 1920. During
the occupation, he was a middle-ranking Peta officer and was stationed in his native53
quarters post at Dekso, to locate a suitable place in the immediate
surroundings which could serve as a permanent headquarters of the Armed
Forces Staff for the duration of the people’s war. From my first ar-
rival at Dekso, on December 20, 1948, this region had attracted me as
being eminently suitable for the kind of headquarters required by the
type of war in which we were engaged. Surely it was no accident that
Prince Diponegoro, during the last stages of his war against the Dutch,
had lived in this same mountainous area, between the Progo River to the
east and the Bogowonto River to the west. By setting up headquarters
near Dekso we could also effectively use the Java Command Headquarters
courier system, which had gradually achieved a capability to connect
all commands on the island of Java, from the farthese point west to the
farthest east. Because the area was quite close to Jogjakarta, a cour-
ier could get here from the city within a single day. This might prove
of great significance later if we should need a continuous exchange of
views with our men in the city on the further course of our struggle--
for instance, in case of new developments in the international field.
With the installation of a small transmitter, which Capt. Dartojo3 *
promised to attend to, radiograms could be relayed to the bigger trans-
mitters at Wonosari and at Balong, on the slope of Mount Lawu. These
transmitters could then relay the radiograms to Sumatra which could
send them on to the outside world.
In mid-January, we left Dekso and went to the place Gani had
selected. At first we followed the road to Samigaluh for half an hour.
Then we crossed a small river. On the other side of the river, at the
foot of some hills, was a cluster of houses. Harjono and some other
officers took up residence here, and for several months these houses
served as the headquarters of the Information Section of the Armed
Forces Staff. From here, Harjono would issue communiques, some of
which would be disseminated via couriers in the cities of Jogjakarta
and Djakarta and some broadcast by radio to Sumatra and New Delhi.
Not far away, Dartojo had set up the small transmitter. Col. Wijono,1 **
who had fled the city along with a child still of primary school age,
was staying nearby.
Pak Wijono had taught for a long time with the Taman Siswa school5
Tjirebon area. At the beginning of the Revolution, he headed the military police in
the Second Division and later became Chief of Staff of the Tjirebon Regiment. Prior
to the first Dutch attack, he was made Chief of Staff of the Fifth Brigade of the
Siliwangi Division, and, during the attack, was attached to the brigade headed by
Abimanju. After the Renville Agreement, he moved with the Siliwangi Division to
Surakarta. During the second Dutch attack, he became Second Assistant to Nasution
at the Java Command Headquarters and served as officer in charge of the command post
at Dekso.
3
Dartojo was born in Kebumen, Central Java, in 1917. He was a cadet at the
Reserve Officers’ Training School before the war. During the occupation, he was em-
ployed as a school teacher in Surakarta. After the Proclamation of Independence, he
joined the TNI and specialized in communications. During the first Dutch attack, he
had charge of communications at Supreme Headquarters, Jogjakarta, and, during the
second attack, he performed the same function for Nasution’s Java Command.
^Wijono was a top leader of the Socialist Party and a founding member of the
BTI (Indonesian Peasant League). He sided with Sjahrir when the latter split with
Amir Sjarifuddin.
^The Taman Siswa was a nationalist educational organization formed under the
guidance of Ki Hadjar Dewantara in the 1920*s.54
system in various places, including Bali. Following the reorganization
of the Armed Forces at the beginning of 1946, a new body, called the
Army Political Education Staff (abbreviated in Indonesian as Pepolit)
was formed under the leadership of Sukono Djojopratignjo,* 6 with the
rank of Lieutenant General, and Wijono, Dr. Mustopo, Sumarsono,7 H.
Farid Ma'ruf,8 Anwar Tjokroaminoto,9 and Kjai H. Mukti,10each with the
rank of Major General. None of them had had any previous military ex-
perience except Dr. Mustopo who had been a Daidancho11 during the Japa-
nese period. The others owed their appointments to the suggestions of
the political parties, some from parties of the "left,*' others from the
Islamic parties. Pepolit was intended to educate the military on non-
military matters, particularly those with political and social signifi-
cance. The high rank accorded to these Pepolit officers, however,
naturally provoked the envy of military men. Moreover, the Pepolit
officers, in general, acted on the instructions of their respective
parties, and as a result their activities created tension rather than
serving any useful purpose. Sukono was later killed during the Madiun
Affair while fighting on the side of the rebels; Sumarsono disappeared
without a trace. The only person of that group who remained was
Wijono, no longer as a member of Pepolit but serving as an information
officer. His rank had been reduced to Colonel, doubtless as a result
of a widespread feeling that all ranks in the Indonesian National Army
should be reduced; at one point, no less than sixty generals wandered
about in Jogjakarta every day, each with a yellow flag on his car, just
like the Japanese generals during the occupation.
From Harjono's place, we still had to climb a steep path for three-
quarters of an hour before we arrived at the place selected by Gani--
the hamlet of Banaran, part of the village of Bandjarsari, in the dis-
trict of Samigaluh. Our host was Karyoutomo, the head of the hamlet.
^Sukono Djojopratignjo, a former official in the Posts, Telegraph and Telephone
Service, was a member of the Socialist Party (PS).
7
Sumarsono was a prominent pemuda leader in Surabaja during the fighting there
in the fall of 1945. He subsequently became a top leader of Pesindo (Indonesian
Socialist Youth), the armed pemuda organization affiliated to the PS. He sided with
Amir Sjarifuddin at the time of the split with Sjahrir and was among those most re-
sponsible for the outbreak of the Madiun Affair in September 1948.
o
H. M. Farid Mafruf was born in Jogjakarta in 1908. After graduating from the
Al-Azhar University in Cairo in 1932, he returned to Indonesia. He assumed a top
position in the modernist Islamic organization, Muhammadijah, and later in Sukimanfs
PII. He was a prominent member of the executive of the Masjumi, an Islamic federa-
tion sponsored by the Japanese; after the Revolution broke out he held a similar post
in the Masjumi when it was reconstituted as a political party.
9
R. M. Anwar Tjokroaminoto was born in Surabaja, East Java, in 1909, the son of
the celebrated nationalist leader H. 0. S. Tjokroaminoto. Before the war, he was
active in his father's political party, the PSII, and also in journalism. He became
a prominent pemuda leader during the period of the Proclamation of Independence. He
was a member of Masjumi and served in the Amir Sjarifuddin cabinet as Minister of
State without portfolio.
^Kjai Hadji Mukti was an important prewar leader of the Muhammadijah and later
of the wartime and postwar Masjumi.
■^Daidanchb is the Japanese title for a battalion commander.55
(In 1951, two years after the recognition of sovereignty, we who had
once been guests for several months at Banaran made a special trip
from Djakarta to visit it again. On our return, Karyoutomo accompanied
us on the plane to Djakarta. He was our guest in Djakarta for several
days before going back to the people of Banaran. What tales he must
have told them about our national capital!)
Karyoutomo also acted as our barber while we were at Banaran.
Whenever my hair got too long, I would sit down on a bench in his
pendopo [front porch for receiving guests] while he took his place
beside me with his scissors. Each time the following exchange took
place between us:
"Excuse me, Pak!"
"Ye-es."
"Excuse me, Pak!"
"Ye-es."
"Excuse me, Pak!"
"Ye-es."
Only after excusing himself three times would he start using his
scissors. In Eastern culture, touching the head of a high-ranking per-
son is not something to be taken lightly.
Banaran consisted of a few dozen scattered houses. The area was
very hilly, with the houses in clusters, some on the tops of hills,
others at their feet. The land was not very fertile. The rice harvest
was never enough to feed the population throughout the year. Cassava,
corn, breadfruit, and other crops supplemented the villagers' diet.
Fortunately, we newcomers did not increase their burdens, because we
could have foodstuffs brought in from more fertile regions, for example
the rice fields around Nanggulan. We were told that the people of
Banaran used to eke out their income by weaving, but since the Japanese
occupation it had become very difficult to get the needed materials.
The local youngsters attended the elementary school at Balong, not far
from Banaran. Most spoke Indonesian fluently. These youngsters helped
us considerably during our stay at Banaran; they took letters to and
from Harjono's quarters and stood watch at night. Did they learn some-
thing useful while we were at Banaran? Some of us tried to teach them;
Ali, for instance, gave English lessons. Whether any of this benefited
them by reducing the backwardness and poverty of life in their village,
I do not know.
Only a few of us lived at Banaran:	Sasra, who acted as secretary,
and his assistants; Ali Budiardjo, who advised on non-military matters;
Mokoginta, who stayed a long time; Widya, who, aside from quoting
learned passages from Lin Yu-tang, often had new ideas; Piet Sundoro,
who looked after security and housekeeping matters; Suleiman alias
Arselan, who served as my faithful adjutant throughout the people's
war; plus a number of other officers, NCO's, and privates.
Usually we got up early in the morning along with the villagers,
who had to leave for the rice fields or tend their livestock before the
sun was up. Banaran had a few wells, but we preferred to bathe, wash
our clothes, and so on in the river, even though this entailed clamber-
ing down a steep bank. After that we would discuss the situation in
the light of the letters, radiograms, and newspapers we received as
well as the radio broadcasts we monitored. Every morning also, Dartojo
would send us transcriptions of broadcasts by the most important sta-
tions at home and overseas. Taking all of these into consideration,56
we composed our letters, radiograms, or analyses. At times we had
guests, some staying overnight, others only long enough to eat. I did
not find it difficult to adapt to village life in the countryside of
Central Java, for life there resembled, in broad outline, village life
in Tapanuli. Although I had not been born and raised in a village en-
vironment, before going to school in Java I had often stayed in my
family’s home village at Laguboti during the long vacations.
Comparing the life styles and thought processes of the people in
the desa [villages] of Central Java with those of the people in the
huta [villages] of Tapanuli, I became increasingly convinced by the
theory that Indonesia's ethnic groups had a common origin. Even some
words are almost the same. Manuk in Javanese means bird. This is al-
most exact--in Batak, manuk means chicken. Houses in Central Javanese
villages have earthen floors, while in the huta of Tapanuli, houses are
built on stilts. But, on one of the bas-reliefs of the Borobudur, I
once saw depicted a house built on stilts, not very different from the
houses of the Batak and the Toradja. Presumably this type of house
was common in Java when the Borobudur was built. But with the reduc-
tion of Java's forests--causing both a decline in wood supply and a
decreased danger from wild animals--the Javanese gradually stopped
building their homes on stilts. This was, of course, only my own
theory.
Nevertheless, differences existed between the villagers in Central
Java and those in the huta of Tapanuli, and more generally between
their two societies as well. Probably the main cause of such differ-
ences was the long and deep influence of Indian civilization on Java;
whereas in Tapanuli its influence was never very strong. If it is true
that the influence of Indian civilization began to spread in the island
of Java during the first century of the Christian era, then by the fall
of Madjapahit at the end of the fifteenth century, it had had ample
opportunity to influence all aspects of community life on that island.
The names now used in Java, for example, originate from India; yet
there must originally have been indigenous Indonesian names in Java as
well. Indian influence among other things created a rather strict
system of stratification in Javanese society (although never as rigid
or absolute as in India); in Tapanuli no such social hierarchy ever
existed. So, on the island of Java, royal palaces and a princely cul-
ture appeared, and it penetrated downward into the population through
aristocratic and prijaji groups who lived outside the village community.
Tapanuli, on the other hand, prior to the establishment of Dutch rule
at the beginning of the twentieth century, had no groups living outside
the huta, nor any external power limiting local sovereignty. These
factors taken together were bound to create differences in mentality.
From the tops of the hills around Banaran we had a view of the
plain of Jogjakarta, guarded by Mount Merapi to the north and fenced
by the Kidul mountain range to the south. Now and then, smoke billowed
up from one of the dark green patches in the plain below. This indi-
cated that a Dutch patrol was busy introducing "security and peace" to
one of the villages. Perhaps Prince Diponegoro had also once surveyed
the plain of Jogjakarta from the tops of these hills. Over there, to
the south, at Imogiri, Sentot had surrendered. On the slopes of Mount
Merapi to the north, on a certain ill-omened day, Kjai Modjo had been
captured by the Dutch. Afterward only a few had remained with Prince
Diponegoro, as he had roamed through this mountainous region before
accepting General De Rock's proposal to open negotiations in Magelang.
When the Prince rejected the Dutch terms, he was arrested despite the
fact that he had come to the town as a guest at the invitation of the
General.
At Banaran, our attention was concentrated at first on internal
national developments. How to increase our ability to prolong, extend,57
and intensify the people1s war, militarily, politically, and economi-
cally. We were beginning to have a clearer picture of the situation
of our ministers and leaders. The Dutch had interned President Sukarno,
Hadji Agus Salim, and Sutan Sjahrir at Prapat. Vice-President Hatta
was detained at Bangka, along with Ali Sastroamidjojo,12 Mohammad Rum13
and others. Dr. Leimena was in Djakarta and Ir. Djuanda in Jogjakarta.
We were not yet sure whether they had been put under city arrest or
whether the Dutch had decided to leave them alone. Mr. Sjafrudin
Prawiranegara was in Sumatra; he headed the Emergency Government of
the Republic of Indonesia together with a number of new ministers whom
he had apparently appointed himself. In Java, Ministers Sukiman,
Kasimo, Supeno, Susanto, and Maskur were outside the Dutch-occupied
towns, but apparently these guerrilla ministers were not together in
one place. Mr. Susanto and Supeno were in East Java, while Dr. Sukiman
and Kasimo were in Central Java. Meanwhile, we were trying to think
through the financial and economic problems arising from a protracted
people!s war, but we did not come to any satisfactory conclusions.
During this period, I issued the Decree of the Armed Forces Chief of
Staff on the Mobilization of Students.
Gradually developments in the international field demanded our in-
creased attention. After the convening of the New Delhi Conference of
Asian Nations, activity in the Security Council on the Indonesian ques-
tion accelerated markedly. After that came new moves by the Dutch and
the Three-State Commission. The impression that negotiations were un-
avoidable gradually materialized, both for us and for the Dutch. Were
we prepared to face this eventuality? Could we just ignore the possi-
bility of a future resumption of negotiations? Given international
developments, such questions became more and more pressing with each
passing day.
My diary reflects this growing concern with international develop-
ments:
January 12, 1949. The Conference of Asian Nations seems to be influenc-
ing attitudes among the Great Powers, including the United States.
January 153 1949. It is possible that the United States, Cuba, Norway,
and China will submit a draft resolution to the Security Council on the
character and time-frame for a political solution in Indonesia.
12
Mr. Ali Sastroamidjojo was born near Magelang, Central Java, in 1903. He re-
ceived a law degree from the University of Leiden in 1927. During his studies he was
active in the Perhimpunan Indonesia, and on his return to Indonesia, in 1928, he
joined Sukarno1s PNI and later the Gerindo. He practiced law before the war, and
served in the military administration during the occupation. He became Deputy Min-
ister of Information in the Sukarno cabinet, Minister of Education in the Amir cabi-
net, and Minister of Education and Culture in the Hatta cabinet. In the last two
cabinets, he represented the PNI.
^Mr. Mohammad Rum was born in Parakan, Central Java, in 1908. He obtained a
law degree from the Djakarta Faculty of Law in 1939. He was a protege of Hadji Agus
Salim and was closely associated with the latter’s political activities as well as
his modernist Islamic propagandizing. Rum did not play a prominent role during the
Japanese period but became an important leader of the postwar Masjumi. He was Minis-
ter of the Interior in the third Sjahrir and part of the term of the Amir cabinets.
He was serving as chairman of the Indonesian delegation in Djakarta at the time of
the second Dutch attack.58
January 18, 1949. The Dutch report that the fighting has spread to East
Java (Tretes, Prigen, Probolinggo) and West Java (Garut).
The United States, through a draft resolution to the Security Council,
is apparently trying to stop the fighting and destruction in Indonesia. It
is a two-pronged approach:	using the influence of Sukarno and Hatta; and
setting terms for a solution of the Indonesian dispute based on a Three-State
Commission with expanded powers, a definite date for a transfer of sovereign-
ty, general elections under UN supervision, and so on. As far as we know,
the main points of the American plan are as follows:
1.	immediate cessation of hostilities;
2.	release and return to Jogjakarta of the captured leaders;
3.	resumption of negotiations;
4.	based on these negotiations, establishment of an interim government
before mid-March;
5.	subsequent determination of the Republic’s territory by the Three-
State Commission, which will have its jurisdiction extended to cover
the whole territory of Indonesia and will have broader powers (not
yet clear to what extent);
6.	calling of general elections for October 1949;
7.	transfer of sovereignty in April 1950.
This plan gives rise to various questions:	How should a cessation of
hostilities be arranged under existing conditions? If our leaders are re-
leased, will their position be that of "prominent personalities" (the Dutch
concept) or of government authorities (our concept)? What will form the
basis for negotiations? What powers will the interim government have? What
position will the Dutch military forces have in relation to this interim
government? What will be the status of the Indonesian National Army under
such a government? In previous talks with Stikker,14 and later with Sassen,15
it was clear that problems relating to the position of the Dutch military
forces and the Indonesian National Army during the transition period could
not be resolved. The Dutch maintain that during the transition period their
military forces must have free rein throughout Indonesia, since during this
period the Netherlands will still be the legal sovereign. Our side argues
that the Dutch military forces should be forbidden to take any action at all.
We believe that during the transition period the Indonesian National Army,
as the nucleus of the future national army for the whole of Indonesia, should
be strengthened and perfected. But the Dutch evidently want the Indonesian
National Army to be dissolved or "screened" during this period.
January 19, 1949. The most interesting events have been the arrival of
Sutan Sjahrir in Djakarta from Prapat, where he has been interned with Bung
Karno and Hadji Agus Salim, and his talks with Dr. Drees16 in Djakarta. It
is not yet clear how these talks got started nor what their nature and sub-
stance were. Do the Dutch want to establish direct contact with the leaders
of the Republic? All this is still an open question.
January 29, 1949. The resolution submitted by Cuba, the United States,
China, and Norway was adopted by the Security Council on January 28, 1949.
With its adoption by the Security Council, a new situation has arisen.
*^Dirk Stikker was Foreign Minister of the Netherlands at the time of the second
Dutch attack. He was chairman of the Party of Freedom and Democracy.
^Dr. E. M. J. A. Sassen was Minister for Overseas Territories at the time of
the second Dutch attack. He was a member of the Catholic People’s Party.
^Dr. Willem Drees was Prime Minister of the Netherlands at the time of the
second Dutch attack. He was a member of the Labor Party.59
If we reject the resolution, we have two alternatives. We can work for
a new resolution more favorable to us, or we can completely ignore the Secur-
ity Council in our further struggle, basing this struggle solely on the
people’s war--if possible (and this is quite speculative) with material aid
from Asian and other countries (Russia).
The diplomatic influence of the Asian countries has already been exer-
cised and it seems clear, therefore, that there is little possibility of get-
ting the United Nations to adopt a new resolution, one more favorable to us.
The present resolution probably represents the maximum which diplomacy within
the United Nations can achieve at this time.
To reject the resolution therefore implies abandoning the diplomatic road
of the United Nations and basing our calculations solely on armed struggle.
This course of action has certain drawbacks. The possibilities for obtain-
ing concrete material aid from Asian or other countries are not yet clear.
The Dutch will certainly exploit the United Nations issue against us if we
ignore it. At the same time, obviously, the implementation of the resolu-
tion is no easy matter; it is even possible that the question of a cease-fire
and the problems inherent in an interim government may prove insoluble.
The Republic has probably no other alternative than to accept the Secur-
ity Council resolution, even though we know that its implementation will be
extremely difficult, perhaps even impossible. The question arises, will the
Dutch accept the resolution? Be that as it may, in the event that the Re-
public accepts the resolution, we should speedily formulate our ideas on
several problems:
1.	The procedure for returning Jogjakarta to our side.
2.	The procedure for the cease-fire.
3.	The position of the Dutch military forces prior to the establishment
of a United States of Indonesia.
4.	The development of the Armed Forces of the United States of Indonesia
and the role of the Indonesian National Army therein.
We should waste no time in beginning a serious analysis of these problems.
February 9j 1949. Ten days have passed since the adoption of the four
countries’ resolution by the Security Council, but still we have no definite
news about its fate. From the start, we have assumed that the Dutch will
evade the obligations imposed upon them by the resolution. According to re-
ports received yesterday, Cochran, who is now in the Netherlands, was in-
formed of the Dutch attitude during a reception given by Drees and Sassen.
Cochran will arrive in Djakarta this weekend. From the attitude taken
by the Commission afterward, we should be able to guess the essence of the
Dutch government’s communication to Cochran concerning its position on the
resolution. For our part, and notwithstanding the acceptance by the Security
Council of the four countries* resolution, we should continue efforts to im-
prove our organization and strengthen our forces in the people’s war, pending
a definitive solution acceptable to our side. Such a solution is evidently
still a long way away.
February 14^ 1949. Today Merle H. Cochran is expected to arrive in Dja-
karta. When hostilities opened on December 19, 1948, but before the exchange
of notes between Bung Hatta and the Dutch through the intermediary of Cochran
was broken off, the latter went to the United States. He apparently played
an important role in the formulation of the Security Council resolution.
With this resolution, the United States (represented by Cochran as before)
is guaranteed a significant role in Indonesian developments during the coming
months.
Cochran stopped in the Netherlands on his way back to Indonesia and met
with the Queen and her government. After he left the Netherlands, political60
problems arose there. Sassen resigned as Minister for the Colonies, and the
possibility exists that the whole Dutch cabinet will do likewise.
Speculation suggests that, after staying in Djakarta for a couple of
days, Cochran will go to Bangka to meet President Sukarno (in the meantime
transferred there from Prapat by the Dutch) and Vice-President Hatta. Such
speculation in itself shows the extent of Cochran's influence on developments
in Indonesia. Our information on Cochran, though incomplete, does permit
certain assessments. He is intelligent and quickly comprehends the essence
of a situation. A shrewd man, he can choose the right moment for putting
forward his proposals and adapt his manner of presentation to the personal
characteristics of the prominent leaders with whom he is dealing. If neces-
sary, he will bypass formal procedures. He is strong-willed and will work
incessantly to achieve his aim. He is a realist.
Clearly, Cochran will play an important role in Indonesia during the
coming months but, just as clearly, his task will be to safeguard the polit-
ical objectives of the United States here. Hopefully, he will manage to
accomplish his task in a not too unsympathetic manner. The political objec-
tives of the United States with respect to Indonesia (as contained in the
four countries' resolution) are:	peace between the Republic (using the in-
fluence of Sukarno and Hatta) and the Dutch; and subsequent guarantees for
the restoration of security and production in Indonesia.
Within limits, these do not conflict with our objectives and interests.
However, dangers do exist of which we should take cognizance. If the polit-
ical settlement leaves the Dutch with considerable power and influence in
Indonesia, this will give rise to difficulties. If the political settlement
leaves us too dependent on the United States, then we may be branded as
American "puppets."
Though we cannot ignore the reality or importance of Cochran's (i.e.,
America's) role, we must constantly keep in mind and never give up our own
objective:	an independent Indonesia, self-reliant politically, economically,
and militarily, and rooted in the energies and aspirations of its own people.
February 17, 1949. It is still hard to predict what will happen. The
United States apparently intends to give the Dutch government a chance to
convince the Dutch parliament that they have only two alternatives:	to obey
the Security Council resolution or to reach an agreement with the Republic
directly. This supposition is supported by the postponement of the deadline
from January 15 to March 1.
Here in Indonesia signs have appeared suggesting new developments within
the BFO,17 a body uniting leaders from the Dutch-created states. The Repre-
sentative of the Dutch Crown, Dr. Beel, has asked the BFO for its opinion on
the Security Council resolution. According to reports from Djakarta, opin-
ions within the BFO vary:	some simply follow the Dutch line, some side more
closely with the Republic, and others stand in the middle. Nonetheless, all
this has apparently increased self-confidence in BFO circles and they now
want to take the initiative, i.e., to present their own views to the Republic
(Sukarno and Hatta) and also to convey proposals to the Dutch representative
(Dr. Beel). This situation will lead to a sort of tug-of-war between the
Republic and the Dutch, as each tries to win the BFO people over to its side.
Dr. Beel reportedly will draw up a "plan," on the basis of his talks
with the BFO people, which he will then present to the Dutch government.
17
BFO stands for the Bijeenkomst voor Federaal Overleg (Federal Consultative
Assembly) established in July 1948. It was a committee, under Dutch sponsorship,
composed of representatives from the various Dutch-created federal units. Each unit
had one vote in BFO decisions regardless of its size.61
Perhaps we, too, will eventually try to work out a joint program with the BFO
for use against the Dutch. Our policy toward the BFO is bound to include two
often contradictory aspects. On the one hand, we are trying to win them over
to our side against the Dutch, but, on the other hand, we cannot consider
them as the representatives of the people living in their "States." Accord-
ingly, a proposed policy toward the BFO people could be as follows:	work
together with them to end Dutch power and together with the people to deter-
mine the fate of the Dutch-created "States."
February 18> 1949. Col. Bambang Sugeng, the Military Governor of the
area covering Jogjakarta, Kedu, Banjumas, Pekalongan, and part of Semarang
(currently visiting the Jogjakarta region) has arrived and is spending the
night at Banaran. Sugeng is an emotional person and wonft be satisfied if
Jogjakarta is merely "returned" to us one day. He believes it must be re-
taken by force of arms. At the very least, he wants us to organize a large-
scale attack on Jogja so that history will record that, even if the Dutch
abandon Jogja, we did not receive it simply as an unearned gift. He believes
we should show that we have the power to make the Dutch position in the city
untenable.
I explained to him that, since the date and the procedure for the trans-
fer of Jogjakarta have not yet been settled, we still have plenty of time to
launch an attack on the city. Absolutely no ban whatever exists to prevent
our taking the offensive, and, from the diplomatic angle, I believe that
each spectacular attack will only strengthen our position. We also discussed
the size of the forces Col. Sugeng could muster for this attack, his plans,
and so forth.
February 21> 1949. The Dutch parliament has approved the policy of the
Dutch government. In outline, it includes four basic points. First, Repub-
lican leaders will not be released, but they will be given the freedom neces-
sary for the conduct of negotiations. In other words, the Dutch want to
"negotiate" with people they hold in prison. Second, the Republic will not
be restored to its previous position. Third, an interim government will be
formed immediately, if necessary without the participation of the Republic.
Fourth, sovereignty will be transferred as soon as possible, but with numer-
ous conditions.
The Dutch have thus openly rejected the Security Council resolution and
have decided to pursue an extremely unrealistic policy. Apparently the
Dutch in The Hague still live in a dream world, in a bygone age when all
matters involving the Indies could be resolved merely on the basis of nego-
tiations between the political parties represented in the Dutch parliament.
Apparently, they still have not woken up to the fact that they can no longer
say to the Republic:	"Over U, maar zonder U."18 (In other words, they can
no longer make decisions about us without our approval.)
How much longer will it take for these "clever" Dutchmen to understand
the reality of the Indonesian problem?
Approaching the end of February 1949, some two and one-half months after
the Dutch attack on Jogjakarta, the situation has changed radically from
that of the first weeks following the attack. During the first month after
the onslaught, the Republic successfully avoided a Vernichtung, in the
second month, international factors began to operate more clearly. The main
objective of the Dutch battle plan--to destroy the military power of the Re-
public while ignoring the international factor in developments—has proved a
complete failure.
Although the Dutch continue to close their eyes to the realities, the
latter will eventually prove to be more powerful than Dutch wishful thinking.
18
Meaning:	"About you, but without you."62
The Dutch would apparently like to substitute their own plans for the Secur-
ity Council resolution of January 28, 1949. But so long as the Republic does
not accede to this, such plans will vanish without a trace. The Republic has
enough winning cards.
Who is included in the term "Republic" as used in the context of recent
international developments? This opens up a new issue. For Cochran, clearly,
the Republic means Sukarno and Hatta, supported by the leaders now in Bangka
and Djakarta; Cochran obviously influences the Three-State Commission, whose
own position has been vastly strengthened by the Security Council resolution.
Nothing indicates that Cochran intends to contact the Emergency Government
of the Republic of Indonesia, nor do our men in Bangka and Djakarta seem
about to say:	"We have no authority at present; please contact the Emergency
Government of the Republic of Indonesia."
Furthermore, it is becoming clear that the BFO, a coalition of political
forces brought to life by the Dutch to counterbalance the power of the Repub-
lic, will also play a role in further developments. Its members will prob-
ably participate, in one way or another, in the negotiations.
Can we prevent developments of this kind? Certainly we could send a
letter to our men in Jogjakarta, to be relayed to Djakarta and Bangka, stat-
ing that we will not recognize any agreements resulting from negotiations
between them, the Three-State Commission, and the Dutch. We could also adopt
an attitude of indifference--pretending that any negotiations between the
Three-State Commission and our people in Bangka and Djakarta are non-existent.
But there is a third option:	We can transmit our views to the men in Bangka
and Djakarta before they begin their negotiations so that our wishes and
opinions will be taken into consideration.
These questions arose as it became clear to us at Banaran, that
neither ourselves nor the Dutch could avoid negotiations for long. We
felt deeply concerned about the need to answer these questions, for, if
caution were not used, at some future date the forces led by the Emer-
gency Government of the Republic of Indonesia might come face-to-face
with Sukarno and Hatta. Such a development would doubtless spread con-
fusion and antagonism within our own ranks, allowing the Dutch merely
to wait until we undermined each otherfs strength?
I personally did not feel that I could supply immediate answers to
such questions. As Deputy Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces (in actu-
ality, heading the Armed Forces Staff at that time), I felt that I could
not simply sit still and await further developments. Towards the end
of February, therefore, I began a month-long tour in order to observe
the situation, to sense the atmosphere and mood in our ranks, to ex-
change views with the ministers who comprised the Central Government
Commissariat for Java, and, as far as possible, to establish contact
with the Panglima Besar and the more important commanders.
The first stage was from Banaran to Wonosari, where Minister Kasimo
was known to be at that time. On the same day that I left Banaran, Dr.
Beel left The Hague following his talks with the Dutch government. Ac-
cording to Dutch reports, Beel would announce a plan upon his arrival
in Djakarta. Beel flew by plane from The Hague to Djakarta, while I
went on foot from Banaran to Wonosari. He arrived in Djakarta and made
the announcement of his plan a few days before I reached Wonosari.
Figuratively as well as literally, we waged the people’s war by stand-
ing and walking on our own feet.CHAPTER V
WANDERING THROUGH JAVA
On February 25, I left Banaran along with Dartojo, Nurhadi, Musli-
min, Suleiman alias Arselan, and a few others. Muslimin, as usual,
carried a hunting rifle with him, while the rest had only pistols. Our
proposed journey would be a "long" one, by the standard then prevail-
ing: on foot from Banaran to Wonosari, in the southern part of the
Jogjakarta region; from there to Mount Lawu, on the border between
Surakarta and Madiun; and eventually back through the northern Sura-
karta and Jogjakarta regions. If at all possible, we hoped to meet
Pak Dirman, who was reportedly in the Ponorogo area.
Our Territorial Organization was sufficiently coordinated by now
so that we did not have to take anything with us except some clothes;
everywhere, the organization would provide us with guides, porters for
our luggage, beds, food, and, in unsafe areas, guards. The nucleus of
this territorial organization in a given area was the local civil
service administration and the military personnel stationed there per-
manently. If the enemy appeared, they would withdraw temporarily but
would not leave the region. The Dutch planners probably only took
into account the troops of the Indonesian National Army--and indeed
the latter carried weapons considerably inferior to those of the Dutch.
Had the Dutch in fact faced only the TNI, without the territorial or-
ganization which allowed it to move everywhere like "fish in water,"
then they might have achieved their goal of eliminating our army, as
they estimated that they could do.
From Banaran we walked to Kenteng and then followed the main high-
way to Nanggulan and on to Wates. Pedestrians and bullock carts crowded
the road. In the people's war, this had significance; empty roads
usually meant that the enemy was operating in the vicinity. A great
many women were walking northwards, stooped under the load of their
wares. Perhaps they carried salt from the south coast to the mountain
areas in the north. An economist would probably note that, after the
occupation of the towns by the enemy, our economy had again become a
village one. Life went on as though the towns did not exist. This
proved that the struggle and the administration could be carried on
for some time purely on the basis of the village economy, although,
naturally, on a more simple basis than before.
Wates--which we reached about midday--had been destroyed in line
with our scorched-earth tactics. All reasonably large buildings had
been reduced to shambles, only half-ruined walls remained standing.
A Dutch patrol, coming from the direction of Purworedjo, had happened
on Wates. This had triggered the activation of the scorched-earth
plans. The civil servants, military personnel, and police had removed
their headquarters to the mountains several miles north of the town.
Wates lies in the middle of a fertile lowland plain of ricefields and
coconut trees.
Later in the afternoon, we reached Pandjatan, south of Wates. The
Sub-District Chief and the Military Sub-District Commander welcomed us.
They lived close to one another and administered the government,
6364
justice, the economy, and the defense of this sub-district cooperative-
ly. The Military Sub-District Commander was still quite young; he had
just been graduated from the Military Academy in Jogjakarta when the
Dutch attacked. The people's war gave considerably "autonomy" to the
village, the sub-district (called a panewon in this area), and the
regency. Each theoretically could function as a self-contained unit
in matters of defense, administration, economy, and justice, even if
completely isolated from outside contact.
The following day we crossed the Progo River at Brosot. The long
bridge at Brosot had not yet collapsed, but its roadway had been de-
stroyed and replaced by sparsely placed boards. We had to make big
leaps from one board to the other to reach the other side of the river.
We went through Srandakan and Kretek, where we crossed the Opak River
and reached Srunggo. The soil here was as hard as coral. It is said
that the Gunung Kidul lay at the bottom of the sea in the past and only
later emerged above the surface as a barren coral mountain range. In
this area, we found it more comfortable to walk in our shoes than in
our bare feet.
At Srunggo, we spent the night with the Sutrisno Sudomos. When
the Dutch had attacked, some of the evacuees had headed north to the
slopes of Mount Merape. Some had moved westwards to the region around
Dekso. Others, like the Sutrisno Sudomo family, had walked south to
the Srunggo area.
The troops under the command of Brigade Commander Lt. Col. Suharto
had by and large remained in the Jogjakarta plain, while a few operated
on the fringes of the city. Subsequently, some were moved into "pock-
ets" within the city itself. The Brigade Headquarters moved from place
to place. I visited it once when it happened to be at Gamping, not far
from the edge of the city.
Sutrisno Sudomo was the head of the Quartermaster General's de-
partment in the Ministry of Defense. He estimated that there were
approximately 5,000 members of our armed forces in the Jogjakarta re-
gion alone and that, on the basis of calculations made before the Dutch
attack, the maintenance expenses of these troops would require 25 mil-
lion rupiah a month. The Ministry of Defense was at this time in no
position to provide this monthly sum to each brigade and, in practice,
each area would have to find its own resources.
Such autonomy and financial independence on the part of troops
and regions is to be applauded in a people's war situation. But might
it not become a "habit" hard to eliminate once life had returned to
normal? According to Sutrisno Sudomo, efforts had begun to print bank-
notes in one of the villages south of Jogjakarta, but considerable dif-
ficulties remained. Even if a printing shop could be organized, its
capacity would be inadequate to finance even one region.
The following day, on February 28, we reached a village named
Banaran, close to Plajen. (In Java many villages are called Banaran,
Kalibawang, etc.) A radio transmitter, previously kept at the AURI
airfield near Wonosari, had just been moved to a place not far from
Banaran. I learned from the Air Force officer who was our host that
day that, aside from the transmitter at Wonosari, we had other powerful
transmitters working in Kotaradja near Bukittinggi, in Bengkulu, in
Pakanbaru, in Djambi, in Tandjungkarang, on Mount Lawu, and in Madiun.
In addition, the Emergency Government also had a mobile transmitter.
Most of these were AURI transmitters and, during the people's war,AURI made a great contribution in establishing and maintaining radio
communication.
From this same AURI officer, I got a transcript (taken from a
monitored broadcast) of the Dutch proposal as announced in Djakarta.
Although I had left Banaran on the same day Dr. Beel departed from The
Hague, he had reached Djakarta long before I got to Wonosari. I
studied the Dutch announcement. On March 12, that is to say in two
weeks' time, they intended to open the Round Table Conference, in which
representatives of Surinam and the Antilles would also participate.
The "leaders" of the Republic would be invited to attend this confer-
ence, but without returning to Jogjakarta first. On May 1, the Dutch
would surrender their authority, thus ushering in a period of transi-
tion.
This plan struck me as being nothing but an improvization. The
Dutch still seemed under the illusion that the Indonesian problem could
be solved by a "reconstitution" of the Dutch Kingdom. Their expressed
intention of dragging Surinam and the Antilles into the proposed con-
ference clearly demonstrated this outlook. They apparently still
nursed the hope that eventually the leaders of the Republic could be
absorbed into an interim government, and then the Dutch army could
eliminate the TNI on behalf of and on the responsibility of this inter-
im government. Presumably, the Dutch still believed that we would
hesitate to reject their proposal because of the "threat" that the
interim government would be formed anyway, but without the Republic.
In my opinion, this Dutch proposal did not even merit our serious con-
sideration. I set out these points in a radiogram, which I gave to
the AURI officer for transmission to the Emergency Government.
On March 1, 1949, after passing through the Regency capital of
Wonosari (already destroyed in line with our scorched-earth tactics),
we arrived at Wiladek not far from Ngawen. Here we met Sumadi and Ir.
Dipokusumo, who jointly headed the Information Staff of the Central
Government Commissariat in Java. They were awaiting reports from
Jogjakarta; on that very day, March 1, 1949, our troops were scheduled
to launch an "SO," or Serangan Oemoem [General Assault], on the city.
Bambang Sugeng and I had discussed this attack earlier at Banaran.
Sumadi and Dipokusumo were all set to broadcast the news of this SO
via the radio transmitter near Banaran to Sumatra and New Delhi, where
it would be disseminated around the world. At this time, when the
Dutch were acting so pigheadedly, the fairly sensational news item of
a general assault on Jogjakarta was bound to have a very favorable
effect.
Several months later, when I sat at the conference table in The
Hague face to face with Maj. Gen. van Langen, who had been the Dutch
commander in Jogjakarta at the time of the SO on March 1, I heard the
term SO used several times as an abbreviation for Souvereiniteits-
overdraaht, meaning "transfer of sovereignty." At that time, we were
discussing the withdrawal of the Dutch Armed Forces from Indonesia
following the SO, i.e., following the transfer of sovereignty. This
reminded me of March 1, when we waited at Wiladek in a state of great
tension to hear reports of the SO on Jogjakarta.
"Do you know what SO meant to us when we faced you outside the
conference room?" I asked Gen. van Langen. When I explained, using
the example of the general assault on Jogjakarta, the General just
smiled.66
At Wiladek I managed to have a talk with Sudiro,1 the Resident of
Surakarta, who, alone with his staff, appeared to be ’’taking a break”
here in the Jogjakarta area. Or perhaps Wiladek belongs to the Mangku-
negaran enclave like Ngawen? I do not know. Resident Sudiro filled me
in on the situation in Surakarta. In Jogjakarta, the Sultan’s attitude
served as a powerful example for everyone, whether military man, civil
servant, pemuda, schoolboy or villager. Everywhere in the Jogjakarta
region, stories circulated about the Sultan’s rejection of Dutch offers
and about his defiant manner when receiving Dutch delegations. One
could not always tell what had really happened and what was popular
imagination. But true or not, the stories were beneficial for our
struggle, and no doubt they also contained a core of truth.
From my talks with Resident Sudiro, I got the impression that the
situation in Surakarta was very different. The Susuhunan and the
Mangkunegoro2 had, from our point of view, taken a rather ambiguous
position, and this had apparently caused real problems outside the
city. At the very least, one could say that the atmosphere in Sura-
karta was not as harmonious as that in Jogjakarta. I then remembered
that, almost 200 years earlier, in 1755, the Dutch had also managed to
take advantage of conflicts between Jogjakarta and Surakarta and impose
the Treaty of Gianti which divided the Kingdom of Mataram into two
parts, Jogjakarta and Surakarta. The Dutch called this an Evenwichts-
'politiek, a policy of building up counterbalancing or rival powers
against every adversary. Even now, they pursued this policy. They had
created the BFO as a counterbalancing force against the Republic. Was
Surakarta being prepared as a counterbalancing force against Jogja-
karta? Even though the Dutch jackal was old and toothless, its char-
acteristic cunning had not changed.
At Ngawen, I had long discussions with Minister Kasimo, who was
living there together with Maj. Gen. Suharjo,3 Prawoto Mangkusasmito,h
Sudiro was born in Jogjakarta, Central Java, in 1912. During the Dutch period,
he was active in the Taman Siswa nationalist school system. Under the Japanese, he
became Deputy Chief of the Barison Pelopor (Vanguard Corps), the activist arm of the
Japanese-sponsored mass organization Djawa Hdkokai. In the early Revolutionary
period, he was prominent in the PNI and helped lead the Barisan Banteng (Wild Buffalo
Corps), a paramilitary organization which grew out of the remnants of the Barisan
Pelopor. After July 1946 he became Deputy Resident and then Resident of Surakarta
and later, in 1949, Resident of Madiun.
2
The Susuhunan, Paku Buwono XII, was a young man who had only ascended the
throne of Surakarta in 1944. Mangkunegoro VIII ruled the small Mangkunegaran prin-
cipality in the Surakarta area. Like the Susuhunan, he was a young man and had only
succeeded to the throne in 1944.
3
Suhardjo Hardjowardojo was bom in Surakarta, Central Java, in 1901. He re-
ceived military training and served in the Mangkunegaran Legion with the rank of cap-
tain. Just prior to the war, he moved to Lampung, and, during the occupation, served
as Chief of Police for Tandjung Karang. After the Proclamation of Independence, he
was assigned to head the Sumatra Command with headquarters in Bukittinggi. Just be-
fore the second Dutch action, he was transferred to Jogjakarta to become Inspector-
General at the Ministry of Defense.
^Mohammad Prawoto Mangkusasmito was bom near Magelang, Central Java, in 1910.
He studied for four years at the Faculty of Law in Djakarta but did not gain his de-
gree. He became a schoolteacher and was active in nationalist and modernist Islamic
groups such as Jong Java, Indonesia Muda, and the Jong Islamieten Bond. In 1940, he67
R. P. Suroso,* * * * 5 and Zainul Arifin.6 Minister Kasimo was then Minister
of People's Food Supply. Pak Hardjo, after his replacement by Col.
Hidajat as Commander in Sumatra, had been appointed Inspector-General
at the Ministry of Defense, while Prawoto and Zainul Arifin were mem-
bers of the Working Committee of the KNIP.7 Pak Suroso was at that
time a senior official in the Ministry of the Interior. During the
Volksraad8 period, he had already been one of our veteran champions.
They happened to be in Surakarta on December 19, 1948. When the
Dutch attacked, they left the city and stayed for a while on the slopes
of Mount Lawu, not far from Military Governor Subroto's9 group. Later
they left, crossed the main highway between Surakarta and Patjitan, and
for some tine now had camped in the area around Ngawen. During my stay
with this group, I noticed that the people who worked most actively to
maintain contact with the military for the sake of the group's security
were Pak Hardjo and Zainul Arifin, the former Commander of the Hizbul-
lah. Perhaps some of the troops in this region consisted of former
members of Hizbullah.
joined Sukiman's PII and became one of its top leaders. Both before and during the
war, he was active in the Muhammadijah. After the Proclamation of Independence, he
became an important leader of Masjumi and served on the KNIP Working Committee,
eventually becoming its chairman.
^R. P. Suroso was born in Porong, East Java, in 1893. He was one of the most
prominent Indonesian civil servants of his generation. He was a long-time member of
the Volksraad and, at various times, active in the Sarekat Islam and the Parindra.
During the occupation, he was Resident of Kedu. After the Proclamation of Independ-
ence, he served briefly as Governor of Central Java before being replaced by Wongso-
negoro and transferred to be Government High Commissioner for the four principalities
of Central Java.
^Hadji Zainul Arifin was born in Baros, Tapanuli, in 1909. He received a re-
ligious education and, during the colonial period, worked in the Djakarta municipal
administration. He was active in the Nahdatul Ulama, and, under the Japanese, became
a leading figure of the Masjumi federation. During the Revolution, he headed the
Hizbullah, a cluster of Islamic-oriented paramilitary organizations which, in 1948,
were partly incorporated into the TNI. He was a member of the KNIP Working Committee
and then of the Central Government Commissariat staff after the second Dutch attack.
7
KNIP, the Central Indonesian National Committee, was a quasi-legislative body
appointed by Sukarno and Hatta in consultation with leading Djakarta political figures
in late August 1945. The Working Committee was a small standing body of the KNIP,
established in late October 1945, to conduct business when its parent body was in re-
cess, as was generally the case. Consequently, real power in the KNIP rested with
the Working Committee.
8
The Volksraad was the largely powerless quasi-legislative council of the
Dutch colonial period.
9
Gatot Subroto was bom near Purwokerto, Central Java, in 1909. He was a long-
time veteran of the Dutch colonial army, and, in the Japanese period, became a senior
Peta officer. From 1945 to 1948, he commanded the Second Division in the Purwokerto
area. In 1948, he was made head of the Military Police, and, during the disturbances
leading up to the Madiun Affair, was appointed Military Governor of Surakarta. Dur-
ing the second Dutch action, he was again placed in charge of the Second Division.68
I heard another story from them about something that happened when
Minister Kasimo and his retinue were crossing the main highway between
Surakarta and Patjitan in the dead of the night. As they crossed the
road, Pak Suroso, who was already quite old and ill, fell into a rather
deep ditch. Without panicking, he got up again and continued on his
way--or so he thought. Without realizing it, however, he had turned
180 degrees in the opposite direction when he fell into the ditch. So
when he got up from his fall, he actually walked back in the direction
from which he had come. He was quite astonished when he arrived at a
village he knew very well, the same village from which his group had
started out. "Why, here I am back again," was all he said. I did not
know whether to laugh or not when I heard this story. It sounded
funny, but I was also moved on hearing about this ailing old man's ex-
perience in the people's war. After the Dutch left Jogjakarta, he had
had to be hospitalized for some time.
Prawoto is a very calm person. I cannot imagine him getting angry,
irritated, or impatient. When we discussed the attitude of the people
in the people's war, he said:	"The people accept this war the way they
accept natural disasters. It's something inevitable, but also, like a
natural disaster, something which will run its course in time." I
asked myself:	"Is this also Prawoto's personal point of view?"
Minister Kasimo was formerly well known as a Catholic representa-
tive to the Volksraad, so he, too, belonged to the "veterans" group, by
the standards of the people's war. He was, however, much younger than
Pak Suroso. Long after saying goodbye to Pak Kasimo, I still remembered
vividly his simple words on that occasion:	"God bless you." Though
ordinary words, commonly used at times of parting, somehow they made a
deep impression on me at that moment.
When Minister Kasimo's group left Surakarta and first arrived in
the Ngawen region, Dr. Sukiman, then Minister of the Interior, had ac-
companied them. But later, he had gone back into the city and never
returned.
Minister Kasimo had had no contact with Ministers Susanto and
Supeno, who were reportedly in East Java together with Miss Susilowati,10
a member of the KNIP Working Committee. Nor had there been any contact
with Minister Maskur. The so-called Central Government Commissariat
in Java consisted, in fact, of ministers who never met. I stayed with
Kasimo's party for two days. It seemed to me that under present cir-
cumstances Minister Kasimo and the others were in no position to give
practical leadership; their presence here, however, at least gave the
impression that the government remained intact and in the midst of the
people and the army in their struggle. This was a very important fac-
tor, both for now as well as for the future.
I did not discuss directly with Minister Kasimo what position we
should take if talks were held in Djakarta between the Three-State Com-
mission and our leaders in Bangka, even though the Emergency Govern-
ment, in fact, now led the struggle and ran the administration. Even
so, I had the impression that, if Sukarno and Hatta concluded an agree-
ment, the Central Government Commissariat in Java would feel compelled
to accept it. Everywhere on my journey, the sentiment was the same:
Susilowati was bom in Djember, East Java, in 1913. She was prominent in
the Taman Siswa and in the women's education movement. She was elected to the KNIP
Working Committee in November 1945. She was generally regarded as close to Sjahrir.69
if Sukarno and Hatta made an agreement, it would be considered as bind-
ing, even if they were in Bangka at the time.
At Ngawen, I also met Mr. Kasman Singodimedjo.11 He represented a
very different type from his party colleague Prawoto Mangkusasmito.
Mr. Kasman could not stay calm and quiet; he had to keep moving. He
had been in the Bodjonegoro area at the onset of the Dutch attack.
Subsequently, he had moved all over the place, to Madiun, to Ponorogo,
to the Semarang area, and now here. He would continue moving to other
regions. According to his own calculations, he had covered 1,000
kilometers since the Dutch attack, mainly on foot.
I heard a lot from Mr. Kasman about his experiences and his as-
sessment of the situation and the authorities in the regions he had
visited. In his opinion, the cooperation in Bodjonegoro between Umar
Djoy,12 the Sub-Territory Commander, Mr. Manu,13the Resident, and Lt.
Col. Sudirman,11* the Brigade Commander, was good. They had a radio
transmitter, and the food supply was adequate. The Regents carried
out their tasks from outside the town. Pati, on the other hand, had
been completely abandoned by civilians as well as by the military.
Maj. Ali Machmudi15 was in the Mount Muria region, Col. Sunarto16 in
Mr. R. Kasman Singodimedjo was born near Purworedjo, Central Java, in 1908.
He received his law degree from the Djakarta Law Faculty in 1939. Before the war,
he first taught in various modernist Islamic schools but eventually joined the gov-
ernment agricultural service. He was active in Jong Java, became chairman of the
modernist Islamic Jong Islamieten Bond from 1929 to 1935 and was chairman of the
Djakarta branch of Muhammadijah from 1939 to 1941. During the occupation, he joined
the Peta and became the senior officer in the Djakarta area. After the Proclamation
of Independence, he was for a short time chairman of the KNIP and later Attorney-
General. He was concurrently a top leader of the postwar Masjumi. He served for a
short time as Deputy Minister of Justice in the Amir cabinet and was adviser to the
Republican delegation to the Round Table Conference.
12
Umar Djoy was Chief of Staff of the Third Division in Jogjakarta in 1946 but
was later dismissed from this post as a result of his involvement in the July 3,
1946 Affair.
13Mr. Tandiono Manu was bom in Banjuwangi, East Java, in 1913. He obtained a
law degree from the Djakarta Law Faculty in 1941. Before the war, he was active in
the nationalist organizations Jong Java and Indonesia Muda. During the occupation,
he worked in the judiciary of the military administration. When the Revolution began,
he became a judge in Jogjakarta. He was later appointed Resident of Bodjonegoro,
East Java, in 1947. He was a member of the Socialist Party.
■^This Sudirman was born near Bodjonegoro, East Java, in 1913. He attended a
teachers' college and, after 1931, became an elementary school instructor. During
the Japanese period, he was a high-ranking Peta officer in his home district. After
the Revolution broke out, he became, successively, battalion, regiment, and brigade
commander in Bodjonegoro.
■^Ali Machmudi was a battalion commander in Bodjonegoro in 1946-47 under Lt.
Col. Sudirman.
■^Sunarto Kusumodirdjo was a platoon commander in the Peta in the Surakarta
area. After the Proclamation, he became commander of the Second Regiment in Sura-
karta. He commanded the Semarang front prior to the first Dutch attack and repre-
sented the Indonesian army in local cease-fire arrangements for the Semarang area.
After the May 1948 rationalization of the Army, he became the first commander of the
Surakarta Sub-Territory.70
Sragen, and Maj. Munadi17 at Djepara. The train service still operated
in the region controlled by us around Kradenan. In Madiun, the situa-
tion was not so favorable, as we had only a few troops there. To the
east, there was the Police Mobile Brigade, Sukowati's18 troops were
operating to the west, and the people's guerrilla movement was active
around Ponorogo.
Mr. Kasman had met Col. Bambang Supeno19 in a village near Madiun.
He said that Supeno was busy drawing up guidelines for Military Sub-
District Commands and village cadres. In Magetan, Sarangan, and Plao-
san, there were no Dutch troops and our administration was in the hands
of the Military Regent and the Military District Chiefs. Resident
Ardiwinangun20 wanted Madiun to be transferred to the territory of the
First Military Governor (East Java), Col. Sungkono,21 i.e., to be re-
moved from the jurisdiction of the Second Military Governor (Eastern
Central Java), Col. Gatot Subroto. Mr. Kasman had met Governor Mur-
djani22 inKediri. There was a transmitter at Sarangan under the
17
Munadi was battalion commander in Rembang, Central Java, from 1945 through
1947. At the time of the second Dutch attack, he headed the Pati Sub-Territory under
Gatot Subroto's command.
18
Suprapto Sukowati was born in Sragen, Central Java, in 1923. During the
occupation, he served as a middle-ranking Peta officer in Madiun. He commanded the
Ponorogo battalion from 1945 to 1947. From 1948 to 1949, he commanded first the
Maospati Battalion and then the Eighteenth Brigade in the Madiun area. He took an
active part in the Madiun Affair on the government’s side and, in January 1949, suc-
ceeded Suadi as commander of Wehrkreise II, Madiun.
19
Bambang Supeno was bom in Kepandjen, East Java, in 1924. During the occupa-
tion, he was a lower-ranking Peta officer. In the early Revolution, he commanded the
military police in the Malang area; by 1948, he had risen to become Commander of the
Seventh Division in that same region. Subsequently, in 1949, he became Chief of
Staff of the Java Command.
20
M. Ardiwinangun was bom near Tasikmalaja, West Java, in 1900. He was gradu-
ated from the Civil Service Academy in 1921. During the colonial and occupation eras
he rose steadily up the civil service hierarchy, becoming Patih of Indramaju and then
Bupati of Tjiamis (during the Japanese period). After the Proclamation of Independ-
ence, he became Resident of Priangan. In July 1947, he was appointed Minister of
Social Affairs for the Pasundan state, but soon resigned. At the time of the Madiun
Affair he was transferred to become Resident of Madiun.
21
Sungkono served in the Dutch colonial navy before the war, and was involved
in the well-known mutiny on the Zeven Provineien. During the occupation, he became a
senior Peta officer in Surabaja and took an active role in the fighting against the
British in that city in the fall of 1945. After the May 1946 Army reorganization,
he became Commander of the Sixth Division, covering the Kediri-Surabaja-Madiun region
During the Madiun Affair, he was appointed commander of all Republican forces in East
Java, and later became the first Commander of the Brawidjaja Division after its for-
mation on December 17, 1948.
22
Dr. Murdjani was bom in Tulungagung, East Java, in 1905. He was graduated
from the Djakarta Medical Faculty in 1930. During the colonial period, he was active
in Jong Java, Indonesia Muda, the Jong Islamieten Bond, Dr. Sutomo’s PBI, and the
Parindra in West Java. Under the Japanese regime, he headed the Putera nationalist
organization for Priangan and held a middle-ranking civil service post in Indramaju.
After the Revolution began, he rose rapidly in the civil administration, becoming
Resident of Indramaju, Governor of West Java, and, in 1947, Governor of East Java.
In February 1949, the Dutch captured him.71
control of Dul Arnowo.23 The forces actively fighting around Semarang
consisted of troops under the command of Sudiarto.21*
I listened attentively to Mr. Kasman’s reports since I would prob-
ably not have the time during the people’s war to visit these regions
myself. I got basically the same picture from his stories as I had
from my own observations in Kedu, Jogjakarta, and Surakarta. The Dutch
occupied the cities, but, outside, our army and administration contin-
ued to function actively.
We stayed for several days at Gelaran as the guests of Maj.
Hadjid, the Military Regional Commander. The Mount Kidul region has
one peculiarity--rivers which all of a sudden disappear, flow several
miles underground, only to come up again as ordinary rivers. The rice
crop is inadequate for the people’s needs, but they also grow many
kinds of beans, corn, and cassava.
During our stay at Gelaran, the radio broadcast the refusal of
the Republic--meaning, apparently, our leaders in Bangka and Djakarta--
to attend the Round Table Conference proposed by the Dutch. The Three-
State Commission, now called the UN Commission for Indonesia [UNCI],
also published its report on the Indonesian situation. It was very
unfavorable to the Dutch. The report stressed, among other things,
that the Dutch were in no position to control events in Indonesia.
Widespread reports of the assault on Jogjakarta had succeeded in chang-
ing the general view of the real situation. The Government of the
State of East Indonesia appeared also to have read the signs of the
times; it announced that it would reconsider its position. All this
gave us at Gelaran the impression that the situation in Djakarta could
develop very rapidly in the coming weeks. The Dutch would be unable
to maintain their present attitude; our leaders in Bangka and Djakarta
would agree to negotiate; and gradually Mr. Cochran would succeed in
bringing the Dutch position closer to ours.
From Capt. Tjokropranolo, one of the officers accompanying Pak
Dirman, I received further information on Pak Dirman’s experiences
after his departure from Jogjakarta. Pak Dirman had been in the Pono-
rogo area when Tjokropranolo left him on orders to go to Jogjakarta.
On March 10, we left the Kidul mountains. On precisely that day,
the Dutch attacked Wonosari. Early in the morning, I witnessed from
Gelaran a kind of repeat performance of the Dutch attack of December
19, 1948 on Jogjakarta. I saw with my own eyes at least 27 aircraft
23
Dul Arnowo was a journalist before the war and active in nationalist politics.
After a brief imprisonment by the Japanese, he became head of the Surabaja Hdkokai
branch. When the Revolution began, he became the first chairman of the Surabaja KNI.
He was elected to the KNIP Working Committee in December 1945 as representative for
East Java. He subsequently became a senior adviser to Surjo, Governor of East Java
from 1946 to 1948. During the second Dutch attack, he was captured.
24
S. Sudiarto was a former Peta officer from the Semarang area. In 1946, he
commanded a regiment in the Kendal-Purwodadi region of Central Java. After the
rationalization of May 1948, he was placed in charge of the Sixth Brigade. He was
involved, on the losing side, in the Madiun Affair and was captured and imprisoned.
He was released after the second Dutch attack and took an active part in guerrilla
operations against the Dutch. He was reinstated in the army and, in January 1949,
was appointed commander of Wehrkreise III, Semarang. In May 1949, he resumed command
of the Sixth Brigade.72
in the sky--three bombers, six fighters, and eighteen transport planes.
Apparently, the Dutch believed that the troops which had attacked Jogja-
karta on March 1 had their headquarters or base at Wonosari. I shrugged
my shoulders as I watched; I had already seen for myself that Wonosari
was an abandoned town, almost completely destroyed as part of our
scorched-earth tactics. The more spread out the Dutch forces, the
better for us, I thought.
It was mainly the common people who suffered from such Dutch at-
tacks. All along the way from Gelaran to Ngawen and on to Tjandiroto,
that day, there were casualties among the people who had been strafed
from the air. In some places where markets were crowded at the time
of the raids, the casualty figures were quite high. Did the Dutch
hope systematically to demoralize the people? In general, however,
the spirit of the people seemed quite unbroken. Once, at Ngawen, we
took shelter for some moments from the planes haphazardly strafing us
from above; a policeman who happened to be with us told me that, accord-
ing to the old prophecies, the history of the Dutch in Indonesia was
near its end. I had heard these predictions everywhere, and I began to
be influenced by them myself.
We arrived in the Surakarta area on March 11. In Seban, the first
village we stopped at, Suleiman told me that the local population spoke
with a different accent, one more refined than that of the Jogjakarta
region. Personally, I could not tell whether this was true. From the
first days of my stay in the Surakarta area, however, I could feel a
difference in the atmosphere of the struggle from that in Jogjakarta.
The situation here was far more complicated. Was there perhaps some
connection between this more complicated situation and the more refined
language described by Suleiman? It was not impossible; a more refined
language would seem to reflect a spirit more cautious, less determined,
and less inclined to adopt a firm attitude--precisely the main differ-
ence between the situation in Jogjakarta and in Surakarta. In Jogja-
karta, the Sultan had publicly refused Dutch offers, and privately he
had firmly supported and helped our struggle. The entire civil service
and the people in that region had followed his example. In Surakarta,
the Susuhunan and the Mangkunegoro had adopted a more "refined" atti-
tude, and the civil service, naturally, had followed suit. In Jogja-
karta all the Regents fought outside the Dutch-occupied towns, but,
here in Surakarta, it was said that newly appointed Regents lived in
places occupied by the Dutch, such as Klaten and Wonogiri, while our
Regents continued their struggle outside these towns.
Before crossing the main road between Surakarta and Patjitan, I
saw Lt. Col. Mursito,25 Commander of the Military Sub-Territory of Sura-
karta. I also managed to have a rather long talk with Ir. Sanusi and
Slamet, Commander of the Military Sub-District of Tjawas. Sanusi lived
at Bajat together with the Commander of the Military District of Klaten.
The Bajat region is historically famous as the main center for the
early dissemination of Islam in the southern part of Central Java.
Ever since, the region has been a "green" district--meaning that devout
Muslims have very great influence there. During the people's war, this
region had a uniqueness of its own--a large group of students and pro-
fessors who had fled Jogjakarta and Klaten when the Dutch attacked.
Ir. Sanusi and I discussed the possibility of mobilizing the students
25
Mursito was made Deputy Commander of the Fourth Division (Senopati) on its
formation in mid-1946. On the outbreak of the second Dutch attack, he was made Com-
mander of the Surakarta Sub-Territory under Gatot Subroto.SI MATUPANG’S TRAVELS
FEBRUARY 25 - MARCH 31,194974
in a more systematic way, so that after a short training period they
could bring in a fresh spirit as cadres of the Military Sub-District
Commands. I also heard of the need for paying closer heed to guaran-
teeing the people's legal rights. Under current abnormal conditions,
cases sometimes occurred in which legal norms with respect to deten-
tion, justice, and so on had been ignored.
After crossing the highway between Surakarta and Patjitan and
taking a boat across the Solo River, we spent the night in the house
of Maj. Pramudjo, in a cold village on the slopes of Mount Lawu. We
could see the lights of the Dutch outpost at Tawangmangu from here.
The Surakarta region differed from Jogjakarta not only with regard
to its political atmosphere and the attitude of its civil service, but
also to a certain extent with regard to the military situation. This
is understandable, for the Dutch attack on Surakarta took place before
our troops there could recover from the wounds caused by the Madiun
rebellion. We should also not forget that the disturbances within the
Army which culminated in the Madiun rebellion began in Surakarta. Con-
sidering all this, we should thank God that after the Dutch attack even
a few units emerged to become the nucleus of the people's war in this
region. Three names I heard mentioned with pride throughout this re-
gion were Achmadi26of the Student Army, Slamet Rijadi,2*and Maj. Wiria28
of the Indonesian Air Force.
We left Maj. Pramudjo's quarters late in the afternoon, accom-
panied by Lt. Purba. That night we crossed the road between Surakarta
and Tawangmangu, passed through Metisih (where, according to Purba, a
large number of Student Army soldiers had recently died in battle),
and, about mid-afternoon, arrived in the village of Balong.
In our dreams about independence, we had often imagined that it
would bring electricity to the villages. Here at Balong this dream
had come true. Maladi,29of Radio Republik Indonesia in Surakarta, and
Damanik, of the Military Communications Service, told me that hundreds,
even thousands, of common people had carried the machines and other
76
Achmadi was bom in Surakarta in 1927. During the Revolution, he led the
so-called Student Army (Tentara Peladjar, TP) in Surakarta and, in 1948, was City
Military Commander for Surakarta. In January 1949, he headed Sub-Wehrkreise 106
within Wehrkreise I, Surakarta, under Slamet Rijadi.
27
Ignatius Slamet Rijadi was bom in Surakarta in 1926. During the early years
of the Revolution, he was among the most respected and important of the military com-
manders in the Surakarta area. From July 1947, he commanded the Twenty-Sixth Regi-
ment, and, after the second Dutch attack, he became commander of the Fifth Brigade,
in Wehrkreise, I, Surakarta.
28
Wiriadinata was bom in 1920. At the outbreak of the Revolution, he joined
the small Indonesian air force and was placed in charge of the Panasan airfield near
Surakarta. In January 1949, he became commander of Sub-Wehrkreise 105 (Sragen) in
Wehrkreise I, Surakarta, under Slamet Rijadi.
29
R. Maladi was bom in Surakarta, Central Java, in 1912. During the Japanese
occupation, he was named director of the Surakarta radio station. After the Revolu-
tion began, he became head of RRI, Radio Republik Indonesia. During the second
action, he was appointed Information Officer for the Java Command and, from this
office, ran the RRI.75
equipment required to electrify the village from the lowland plain high
up the slopes of Mount Lawu to Balong. This electric power was primar-
ily used to operate a radio transmitter, one of our main radio stations
in Java during the people's war. After discussions with Maladi and
Damanik, I wrote in my notebook:	"History must not forget the role
played by radio and radio technicians in this war."
That same afternoon, we went to the village of Slendjingan, about
half an hour's walk from Balong, to meet the staff of the Military
Governor, Col. Gatot Subroto, who happened to be away. He had left a
couple of days earlier to visit the Pati region. Col. Suprapto,30 the
Chief of Staff, and Lt. Col. Surjosularso, Maj. Suhardi, Maj. Bustomi,
and Maj. Achmadi were all there, however. I had known Suprapto since
he was a freshman at the Military Academy in Bandung. Bustomi, a civil
servant who had become a Peta officer during the Japanese occupation,
had worked for several years as my deputy in Jogjakarta.
The work of the Military Governor's staff was running smoothly.
At first they had had a sort of crisis, but this was not surprising,
since the Dutch had attacked while the staff was still preoccupied
with the remnants of the Madiun rebellion. The troops under the com-
mand of the Military Governor had not yet been reorganized, and the
Siliwangi troops, which had constituted the main force countering the
Madiun rebels, had left for West Java immediately after the Dutch at-
tack began. At first, therefore, there were practically no Republican
troops in several of the regions under Military Governor Gatot Subroto,
as for example, in Pati, Madiun, and Semarang.
I had a long talk with Maj. Kusumo, who was in charge of ordnance
for the area, mainly about our real position with regard to ammunition.
According to him, grenades could be produced in great quantities. The
stock of TNT was sufficient, though the supply of fulminate of mercury
was running low. Landmines were still available. I urged him to have
them distributed as quickly as possible. With regard to bullets, how-
ever, after a lengthy discussion, we concluded that the only way to
get them was from the enemy--by purchase, theft, or seizure.
While at Slendjingan, several TP youngsters from Surakarta offered
to take letters to Djakarta. I sent one to Mr. Sudjono,31 the secre-
tary of the Indonesian Delegation, who lived in Djakarta. I asked him
to inform our men in Djakarta and Bangka that our position was quite
strong and, therefore, they need not concede too much to the Dutch.
30
R. Suprapto was born in Purwokerto, Central Java, m 1920. He attended the
Royal Military Academy in Bandung on the eve of the Second World War. He joined
Sudirman's staff at the outbreak of the Revolution when Sudirman still commanded the
Fifth Division. He served as Sudirman's adjutant from 1946 to 1947, after the latter
had become Panglima Besar. In 1948, he became Chief of Staff of the Diponegoro Divi-
sion under Gatot Subroto.
31
Mr. R. Sudjono was born in Adikarto, near Jogjakarta, in 1905. He received
his law degree from Leiden University in 1930. As a student in Holland, he partici-
pated in the Perhimpunan Indonesia. He practiced law for some years after his return
to Indonesia and was active in Jong Java and Parindra. In 1938, he went to Japan and
taught Indonesian in Tokyo. In 1942, he returned to Indonesia along with the Japa-
nese army and became a senior adviser to the Chief of the Military Administration.
After the Proclamation of Independence, he joined the PNI and helped establish the
Republic's Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He became head of this ministry*s legal sec-
tion and served as secretary-general of the Indonesian delegation at the Renville and
Round Table talks.76
We wondered if we would still have a chance to visit Pak Dirman's
headquarters and go to East Java. On March 21, a courier came from Pak
Dirman's headquarters, bringing the general's radiograms for transmis-
sion to the Emergency Government in Sumatra via the Balong radio sta-
tion. That morning Balong came under fire from Dutch guns, and for
some time the transmitter could not be operated. According to the
courier, it had taken him seven days to travel from Pak Dirman's place
to Slendjingan.
The radio news included reports on the last Security Council dis-
cussions which indicated a trend toward finding a solution based on a
middle road between the idea of the Round Table Conference as proposed
by the Dutch, and the Security Council resolution of January 28, 1949
accepted by the Republic as a guideline. These reports gave the impres-
sion that talks between the Dutch and our men in Djakarta and Bangka,
with the assistance of the UN Commission for Indonesia, would start
before very long. I was anxious to return to Banaran before the talks
began so that I could present suggestions to our men in Djakarta prior
to their negotiating with the Dutch. If I went to Pak Dirman's head-
quarters, it would mean seven days travel from Slendjingan and another
seven days for the journey back, plus several days more for discus-
sions and for rest. In brief, it would require about twenty days in
all. Perhaps in the meantime the talks in Djakarta would have already
started. Consequently, I wrote to Pak Dirman from Slendjingan outlin-
ing my views and expressing my regret that we must quickly return to
the Jogjakarta region so that someone would be there in case negotia-
tions started in Djakarta. We left Slendjingan on March 22 and walked
northward.
I was sorry I did not meet Col. Gatot Subroto. In many respects,
his life story parallels the development of our army. First of all,
he comes from Banjumas. I do not know why, but quite a number of army
leaders came from Banjumas and Kedu:	Sungkono, Sadikin, Bambang Sugeng,
Gatot Subroto, and, one should not forget, Pak Urip32 and Pak Dirman.
It is said that the Banjumas dialect is more "militant" than the speech
of any other part of Java. I often jokingly called these men the
Prussians of Java.
Gatot Subroto had served as a noncommissioned officer in the
Netherlands East Indies Army for a considerable time and had become
familiar with various regions in Indonesia during his years of service.
During the Japanese occupation he was a Peta officer. At the outbreak
of the Revolution, he became a Brigade Commander in Tjilatjap under
Pak Dirman, then Division Commander in Purwokerto. When Pak Dirman
became Panglima Besar, Gatot Subroto replaced him as Division Commander
in Purwokerto. He once served as Commander of the Military Police
Corps. The chaotic situation in and around Surakarta, which eventually
triggered the Madiun rebellion, forced the government to dispatch an
iron-fisted man to deal with it. Gatot was sent. Not long after the
Madiun rebellion had been quelled, the Dutch launched their attack.
As Military Governor of the Second Region, Gatot Subroto now had the
task of leading the people's war in the eastern part of Central Java.
32
R. Urip Sumohardjo was bom in Bagelen, Central Java, in 1893. He joined
the KNIL in 1914, and, on his retirement in 1939, was the highest-ranking Indonesian
in that army. In 1945, the Republic's leaders called on him to build the TNI, giving
him the position of Chief of the General Staff. He held this position, after Sudir-
man was elected Panglima Besar, until his death in November 1948.77
Each great revolution gives birth to a new army, and in this army
noncommissioned officers and even privates of the old army often have
an opportunity to obtain the highest ranks by virtue of their abilities.
Michel Ney for instance, one of Napoleonfs most outstanding generals,
was only a private at the outbreak of the French revolution in 1789.
Subsequently Ney became a Marshal of France and was granted the title
of Prince of Moscow. Simeon Michailovich Budenny was a noncommissioned
officer in the Tsarist army. He later became Marshal of the Soviet
Union. Gatot Subroto and Sadikin were formerly noncommissioned offi-
cers in the Dutch army, and Sungkono a noncommissioned officer in the
Dutch navy. Now they led the peopled war--Sadikin in West Java, Gatot
in Central Java, and Sungkono in East Java. Who could deny that our
army is the child of the revolution, just like the French army after
the French revolution and the Russian army after the Russian revolu-
tion?
Following my notes on my experiences and discussions in the region
of Mount Lawu, the next entry in my diary contained seven names, without
any further clarification--Amir Sjarifuddin, Oey Gee Hwat,33Djokosu-
jono,3lt Ronomarsono ,35 Maruto Darusman,36 Suripno,37 Sardjono.38 While in
33
Oey Gee Hwat edited a left-wing peranakan Chinese newspaper, Sin Tit Po, in
Surabaja in the 1930*s. He was a member of Liem Koen Hian’s Indonesian Chinese Party
(PTI) and was close to the underground communist group in Surabaja. In 1945, he was
one of the top leaders of the Socialist Party, and, after the Amir Sjarifuddin-Sjahrir
split in 1948, he followed Amir.
^Djokosujono was appointed Commander of the Central Biro Perdjuangan by Amir
Sjarifuddin. The Biro played an important role in bringing the irregular military
groups under Amir’s influence.
35
Ronomarsono was a labor union leader in the Surakarta area. He was subse-
quently associated with the People’s Democratic Front (the FDR), a left-wing coali-
tion led by Amir Sjarifuddin after his fall from power.
Maruto Darusman, while a student in Holland in the late 1930’s, was an im-
portant member of the Perhimpunan Indonesia during the time when that group came
under strong communist influence. During the war, he participated in the anti-Nazi
underground in Holland and only returned to Indonesia in 1946, whereupon he joined
the PKI led by Sardjono and Alimin. He remained in the top echelon of the PKI up
until the Madiun Affair. He served as Minister of State without portfolio in the
Amir cabinet, representing the PKI.
37
Suripno, like Maruto, had been a member of the Perhimpunan Indonesia and had
participated in the anti-Nazi underground. He too returned to Indonesia in 1946.
Shortly before the first Dutch attack, he was sent as Republican representative to
Eastern Europe where he negotiated a consular treaty with the Soviet Union. He re-
turned to Indonesia in August 1948, along with Muso, the top prewar leader of the
PKI. He became a member of the PKI Politbureau after Muso’s reorganization of it,
and had special responsibility for youth and foreign relations.
38
Sardjono was a communist leader in West Java and, in 1924, had succeeded
Aliarcham as chairman of the PKI. Under his guidance, the party launched the 1926-
1927 insurrections. After their failure, he was interned in the Boven Digul concen-
tration camp. During the war, he was taken, along with the other detainees, to Aus-
tralia. There, in accord with the Dimitrov line, he cooperated up to a certain point
with the Dutch colonial authorities. He returned to Indonesia in 1946 and was able
to reestablish his control over the PKI in May of that year. On Muso’s return in
1948, he was demoted to a junior position in the Politbureau.78
the Mount Lawu area, I had heard that they had been shot during the
first days after the Dutch attack on Surakarta. I had not enquired how
it had happened; an atmosphere of anger, fear, and disorganization must
also have prevailed in Surakarta in those days, similar to what I had
seen for myself in Jogjakarta. I only mused for a moment while record-
ing these names in my diary, adding no particulars whatsoever.
I had known all of them but Ronomarsono. I had known Sjarifuddin
and Djokosujono very well indeed. From the early days of the Supreme
Command until approximately a year ago, I had shared the same house in
the Gondokusuman with Djokosujono. At that time, I had moved to Djalan
Merapi, but Djokosujono and I had remained friends. He was the type
of young man who around 1930 was attracted by the speeches and courses
given by Bung Karno, Bung Hatta, Bung Sjahrir, and other leaders of the
nationalist movement. Subsequently, he became a cadre of the movement.
He came from Madiun and he had been imprisoned by the Dutch in Djombang
or Modjokerto for a considerable time. During the Japanese period, he
joined the Peta in the Madiun region. When the Supreme Command was
founded in Jogjakarta, he became chief of its Organization Section, and
I became his deputy. Later on, after a broad reorganization put through
while Bung Amir was Minister of Defense, Djokosujono was appointed Head
of the Biro Perdjuangan, charged with merging the various irregular
armed units into the official army. The lessons he had received in
politics, history, sociology, organization, socialism, and Marxism had
taken deep root and assumed the character of dogma for him. The mental
and emotional traits common to members of a movement who believe them-
selves persecuted had become second nature to him; he had a deep sense
of solidarity with fellow victims and comrades-in-arms with whom he had
shared frequent suffering and occasional joy, and he had a deep hatred
for the enemy (the Dutch) and for the "aristocracy," the "bourgeoisie,"
and the "prijaji."39 To a certain extent, I had come to understand this
way of thinking and feeling when we lived and worked together in Jogja-
karta.
Bung Amir was a different type of person altogether. Born into a
prominent Dutch Indies civil servant family in Tapanuli, he was gradu-
ated from the Gymnasium in the Netherlands and the Faculty of Law in
Djakarta. Later he became one of the top young leaders in the nation-
alist movement, ranking after Bung Karno and Bung Hatta. Although he
came from a Muslim family, he became a leader of the Indonesian Student
Christian Movement in the pre-Japanese period. An excellent orator and
organizer, he made a very attractive and dynamic leader, though at
times he gave an impression of mental disturbance and irritability.
Before the Japanese occupation, I had met Bung Amir several times
in the clubhouse for Christian Youth at No. 44, Kebon Sirih, in Dja-
karta. As a high school student, I had deeply admired his lectures,
which were given in fluent and beautiful Dutch. At the Gapi1,0 Congress
at Gang Kenari, I found his fiery speech in Indonesian very attractive.
During the Japanese occupation, Bung Amir spent most of his time in
prison because of his subversive activities against the Japanese
authorities. It is said that he had actually been sentenced to death
39
A prijaji is a member of the Javanese bureaucratic upper class.
40
The Gabungan Politik Indonesia (Federation of Indonesian Political Parties)
was formed in May 1939 to unite eight of the most important nationalist organizations
of the day. It was led by Amir Sjarifuddin, M. H. Thamrin and Abikusno Tjokrosujoso.
It called for cooperation between the Dutch and Indonesian peoples in the face of the
growing international crisis and on the basis of more democratic rights for Indone-
sians. Its main proposal was to convert the Volksraad into a broadly based represen-
tative body having real power.79
by a Japanese military tribunal but that intervention by Bung Karno and
Bung Hatta with the Japanese Commander-in-Chief had prevented the exe-
cution of the sentence. Bung Amir once told me about his cellmate in
the Japanese prison. This man was a Buginese sailor. So strong was
his longing for the wide sea and the open sky that he covered the walls
of the cell with drawings of Buginese boats. Nonetheless, with each
passing day, his will to live seemed to diminish and eventually he
stopped moving altogether while his glazed eyes remained fixed on the
drawings on the walls of his tiny cell.
Following the Proclamation of Independence, Bung Amir was released
from prison in Malang and subsequently was given a seat in our first
cabinet as Minister of Information. In this position he contacted
former officers of the KNIL, the Dutch colonial army, with Didi Karta-
sasmita1*1 acting as the liaison officer. At one point these former KNIL
officers issued a statement over the radio, within the country as well
as abroad, declaring their allegiance to the Republic. I do not know
whether this was Bung Amir’s first contact with military matters. At
that time, along with Askari,42! used to go and see Bung Amir at his
home close to Djalan Guntur.
When Bung Amir became Minister of Defense, I was working at the
Supreme Command Headquarters in Jogjakarta. I worked closely with him
in building up our defense strength and in negotiating military issues
with the Dutch and the British. I accompanied him several times to
Djakarta, where Bung Sjahrir (Prime Minister and concurrently Minister
of Foreign Affairs) then had his residence, at No. 56, Pegangsaan Timur
Given the personalities and work methods of Bung Sjahrir and Bung
Amir, I often used to describe Bung Amir as the motor and Bung Sjahrir
as the rudder of our ship of state. To separate them meant having a
motor without a rudder or, conversely, a rudder without a motor.
Though this is, of course, a great exaggeration, it still has some
truth in it.
I had known Bung Sjahrir since the beginning of the Japanese occu-
pation. After my release from detention by the Japanese, the first
*R. Didi Kartasasmita was bom in Tasikmalaja, West Java, in 1915. He was the
first native Sundanese to graduate from the Royal Military Academy in Breda. On his
return to Indonesia, he joined the KNIL and fought against the Japanese in 1942. He
was captured and interned for ten months. After his release, he took a civil service
position in Bandung. At the outbreak of the Revolution, he became an important fig-
ure in the planning and development of the TNI, working closely with Urip Sumohardjo.
For a short time, he was senior military officer in West Java, but subsequently moved
to Jogjakarta, where he took charge of the Infantry Section of the Ministry of De-
fense.
42
Askari was bom in 1919. He was a member of the 1940 class at the Royal
Military Academy in Bandung, along with Nasution, Simatupang, and Kawilarang. He was
married to Kawilarang's sister. During the occupation, he held a civil service job,
but he returned to the army after the Proclamation of Independence. In 1945, he be-
came Chief of Staff of the Second Division (Tjirebon area), and, when the Siliwangi
Division was founded in May 1946 under Nasution, he became its Chief of Staff. Dur-
ing 1947-48, he was commander of the Tarumanegara Brigade of the Siliwangi Division.
Just prior to the second Dutch action, he was member of a group of officers sent to
Sumatra from Jogjakarta, and was assigned to the staff of Hidajat, then head of the
Sumatra Command.80
question I faced was:	Are our people really as pro-Japanese as it ap-
pears? To avoid attracting suspicion, I bought several dozen Japanese
textbooks, and used selling them as an excuse to visit various offices
and homes in Djakarta, Bogor, Sukabumi, Bandung, Tegal, Pekalongan,
Semarang, Magelang, Jogjakarta, Surabaja, and Malang. I concluded that
the anti-Dutch feeling ran deep and was sincere, but also that the
people were essentially opposed to the Japanese. As a military man, I
believed that the Japanese offensive had run out of steam, and, there-
fore, time favored the Allied Forces. We needed to determine what the
future held in store for us under these circumstances. In Djakarta,
however, I met no one who wanted to think about this, until one day I
came across Sutan Sjahrir. My first conversation with him made a deep
impression on me and from then on we met frequently. Conversation with
him prodded me to think and read further, Sjahrir's most important
service during the Japanese occupation was surely that he preserved and
encouraged a way of thinking quite different from that imposed on the
society by the Japanese and their agents.
In the Sjahrir Cabinet, Bung Sjahrir guided our diplomacy in Dja-
karta and Bung Amir guided the building of our armed forces in Jogja-
karta. After the Proclamation of Independence, we constantly had to
deal with the problem of the proper equilibrium between diplomacy and
force of arms in our struggle. Some held the extreme view that we
should depend solely on the build-up of our armed forces and ignore
diplomacy altogether. Others wanted to rely entirely on diplomacy,
entrusting our fate to the "new" forces which had emerged after the
end of the Second World War, while relegating our armed forces to a
minor role. The Sjahrir government tried to assign a suitable role
both to diplomacy and to force of arms. But different assessments
naturally arose about the proper weight assigned to each.
When the Linggadjati Agreement was initialed, Bung Amir supported
it fully. Later, a number of military incidents occurred and differ-
ences emerged between the Indonesian and Dutch interpretations of the
agreement. As a result, Bung Amir and I went to Djakarta several times
by special train to resolve these military problems with the Dutch. On
one occasion two young men, Subijakto‘*3and Siahaan, traveled with us
from Djakarta to Jogjakarta to join the navy of the Indonesian Repub-
lic. They had been officers in the Dutch navy during World War II but
had resigned after our Proclamation of Independence. In Jogjakarta,
the location of Defense Ministry headquarters, one could feel that the
emphasis was on the building up of our armed forces. But on the train
between Jogjakarta and Djakarta one could sense that, at a certain
point, we passed out of the sphere of influence of the Defense Ministry
in Jogjakarta and entered that of the Foreign Ministry in Djakarta.
Bung Sjahrir adopted a completely pragmatic attitude on whether force
of arms or diplomacy should be emphasized-- in his view, if the Dutch
could be expelled by military force, so much the better. The attacks
on Bandung, Semarang, and Surabaja failed completely, however. (Bung
43
Subijakto was born in Banjumas, Central Java, in 1917. He studied at a
school for candidate reserve officers in the Royal Dutch Navy in Surabaja, graduat-
ing during World War II. Afterward, he served with the Dutch navy in European and
Australian waters. After the war, he studied at the Technical Faculty in Delft and
then returned to Indonesia after the Linggadjati Agreement. He was then appointed
an adviser for naval affairs to the Minister of Defense. In March 1948, he became
Naval Chief of Staff. His wife is the younger sister of Mrs. Hatta.81
Tomo**1* had said in a speech in Malang that he would celebrate Lebaran1*4 5
in Surabaja!) Commonly, an army born in revolution is not powerful
enough to launch a general offensive. When the Linggadjati Agreement
was signed, Bung Amir refused to attend the ceremony, in protest
against the Dutch attack on Modjokerto. At that time, he and I were
at the East Java Combat Headquarters in Madiun, established as a re-
sponse to the Dutch attack on Modjokerto. One important figure at this
headquarters was Dr. Mustopo, who had a command train at his disposal.
Following the signing of the Linggadjati Agreement, conflict with the
Dutch over its interpretation continued. As a result, Sutan Sjahrir
resigned as Prime Minister, and Amir Sjarifuddin became Prime Minister
and concurrently Minister of Defense.
How did it happen that Bung Amir was swept up in the Madiun rebel-
lion? Many theories have been proposed, but a complete and satisfac-
tory answer to this question will probably never be found. As far as
I know, Bung Amir himself left no notes.
Nowadays, some suggest a "provocation theory," that is, that the
Madiun Affair resulted from previous decisions taken jointly by the
leaders of the Republic and the representatives of the United States
at a conference in Sarangan. Personally, I do not really believe in
this theory. In Jogjakarta, I myself had witnessed that the highest
ranking leaders of the Republic had received the news of Madiun with
utter consternation. On the night before Bung Karno made the historic
speech in which he had asked the people to choose between Sukarno-Hatta
on one side and Muso‘t6on the other, I had been at Kaliurang sitting in
on negotiations with the Three-State Commission; I had received a tele-
phone call asking me to come immediately to the Palace. A cabinet ses-
sion had been called to consider the news from Madiun. If the "provo-
cation theory" were true, then the atmosphere at that session should
have been one of relief and people should have been saying:	"Thank
God, they've fallen into our trap." Actually, exactly the reverse was
true. In a conversation outside the meeting, Bung Karno was still
asking me:	"What does Amir really want?" Bung Hatta said:	"Now it
is a matter of life or death. Er op of er onder." These were certain-
ly not the words of men who felt relieved because their adversaries
had fallen into a cunningly laid trap of "provocation."
4Sutomo was bom in Surabaja, East Java, in 1920. During the colonial period
he was an active member of Indonesia Muda, Parindra, and the KBI (Indonesian National
Scouts). He came into prominence in October 1945 as a result of his fiery leadership
of pemuda groups in Surabaja. So popular were his radio broadcasts that he became
widely known by the familiar title of Bung Tomo. He formed his own paramilitary
organization, the Barisan Pemberontakan Republik Indonesia, which played an important
role during the early years of the Revolution.
^Lebaran is the Muslim holy day celebrating the end of the fasting month.
^Muso was bom in the Kediri region of East Java, in 1897. During the colo-
nial period, he was active in Insulinde, Sarekat Islam, and the Indies Social Demo-
cratic Association before becoming an important leader of the PKI. He joined in the
decisions which led to the 1926-27 insurrections. The uprisings broke out while he
and Alimin were abroad and afterward he lived in the Soviet Union. Apparently, he
made a secret visit to the Indies in 1935 to revive an underground communist party,
but did not stay long. He did not return again to Indonesia until August 1948, at
which time he took charge of the PKI once more.82
According to another theory, the arrival of Setiadjid1*7
and others from the Netherlands, of Muso and Suripno from Moscow and
Prague, and of Supeno1*8 and others from a conference in Calcutta, brought
the leftist movement in Indonesia increasingly under the influence of
Moscow. According to this theory, Moscow had already decided that revo-
lutions should be sparked off in Asian countries in opposition to the
incumbent "national bourgeois" groups. Aware of these developments,
then, Bung Amir feared that his influence in the leftist organizations
would vanish if he could be branded as insufficiently revolutionary and
leftist by comparison with those who had just returned from abroad.
He therefore declared that he had long been a member of the Illegal
PKI, and he refused to be outdone in preparing armed resistance. At
least, that is the theory; I have no material to confirm or deny it.
There is another theory which makes some sense. I heard from Bung
Amir himself that he had accepted the Renville Agreement in the belief
that a basic political solution could be reached within a few months,
possibly even a few weeks, after its signing, and that a plebiscite
would end Dutch rule in the areas we had abandoned on the basis of the
Agreement. In his speech on the occasion of its signing on board the
Renville, Bung Amir had said:	"If I may cite the ideas expressed at
the beginning by Dr. Graham, the head of the American delegation, the
cease-fire and principles agreed upon today imply abandoning the road
of fighting and violence, and adopting the road of democracy." Did he
mean to say by this:	"We have accepted the ideas submitted to us by
Dr. Graham, head of the American delegation, and now he has a moral
obligation to help implement them." I do not know. Bung Amir experi-
enced his first disappointment at this time, for, not long after the
signing of the Agreement, Dr. Graham was recalled by his government.
Bung Amir had accepted the Renville Agreement after a meeting between
all the leaders of the Republic and the members of the Three-State Com-
mission at Kaliurang, and perhaps he had therefore believed that all
the major political parties would support him. As a consequence, he
experienced a second disappointment:	not long after the signing,
Masjumi withdrew its ministers from the cabinet. Bung Amir had to re-
turn his mandate as Prime Minister. Did he perhaps feel disappointed
and abandoned by the people and groups he had at first expected would
support him in the implementation of the Renville Agreement? In this
emotional state of mind, was he therefore more inclined to listen to
Setiadjid, like Suripno and Maruto Darusman, belonged to the Perhimpunan
Indonesia during the late 1930fs when it was under strong communist influence. He
too participated in the anti-Nazi underground and returned to Indonesia with the
others in early 1946. He then joined the Indonesian Labor Party (PBI) and took con-
trol of it at the end of 1946. He served as Deputy Minister of Communications in the
third Sjahrir cabinet and Deputy Prime Minister in the Amir cabinet. He was a lead-
ing figure in the People’s Democratic Front.
48
This appears to be Supeno Hadisiswojo, who was bom near Kediri, Central
Java, in 1916. During the colonial period, he worked as a teacher in Taman Siswa
schools and also as a journalist. He was active in both Partindo and Indonesia Muda.
During the Revolution, he edited the newspaper Revo1usioner in Jogjakarta. He was a
member of the Pesindo executive and represented it in the Congress for Indonesian
Youth Organizations. He was the Congress delegate to the Conference of Youth and
Students of Southeast Asia Fighting for Freedom and Independence, which was held in
Calcutta in February 1948. He subsequently joined the PKI. In some quarters, it is
believed that at this Calcutta conference, instructions from Moscow were transmitted
to the delegates which resulted in the left-wing insurrections of 1948.83
the "radical" and "revolutionary" arguments of his comrades, particu-
larly those who had just returned from abroad? This too is only a
theory.
Amir Sjarifuddin is no more. Was he a nationalist, did his heart
burn with the ideal of building a strong, just and prosperous Indone-
sia, and was he prepared to make the highest sacrifice for this ideal?
Who could doubt it? Was he a Christian? So far as his fellow-men
could ascertain, he was a faithful Christian. Was he a communist?
How is one to answer this question? Was he a communist in its formal
sense, that is to say, was he a member of the Communist Party of Indo-
nesia? According to his own statement, he had long been a member of
the PKI while it was still an illegal organization. Some do not be-
lieve this and think that it was merely a tactical move to prevent
Muso and others from destroying Amir's influence in the Indonesian
left. Can this now be confirmed or refuted? Was he a communist in
the sense that, deep within him, he was caught up by the humanitarianism
and egalitarianism in Marx's writings? Or was he a communist of the
kind exemplified by Lenin and later Stalin? Or was he a communist in
the sense that his ultimate loyalty went to a world communist movement?
Could it be that he had not yet found in his own heart a synthe-
sis of nationalism, Christianity, and communism, and that, for this
reason, he sometimes gave an impression of instability and a lack of
inner peace? Will these questions ever be answered?
Whatever the final evaluation of future historians with regard to
Bung Amir as a political figure, those who knew him well will always
remember him as a kind and friendly human being, a quick and sometimes
brilliant thinker, an orator second only to Bung Karno, and a firm and
disinterested fighter and worker. Returning from a visit to Bung
Amir's grave after the recognition of our sovereignty by the Dutch,
Mangara Tambunan1,9 said to me:	"He faced death calmly and peacefully."
I had known and respected Amir Sjarifuddin, and I had asked my-
self:	"How did Bung Amir come to the conclusion that he had to take
the road to Madiun?" The whole Madiun question obviously raises far
more complex questions than those of Amir's personal motives. I am
convinced that the ordinary boys, the soldiers and pemuda who fell
on both sides during the Madiun Affair, knew nothing of the issues be-
hind this national tragedy. I am certain that the last prayer of all
these boys was for the happiness and greatness of the same Fatherland.
After Madiun had been taken by the Siliwangi troops, I went there in a
worn-out Japanese aircraft along with Suprajogi and Daan Jahja. Col.
Gatot Subroto arrived the same day from Solo and Col. Sungkono came in
from the east. We held a meeting at the Merdeka Hotel. "It's like
the meeting of the American and Russian troops in Berlin," I said.
While studying at the Military Academy, I had always heard that a civil
war aroused much deeper emotions and hatred than an ordinary war. "Now
the truth of this lesson has been brought home to my people," I thought
after hearing and seeing for myself what had happened during the Madiun
rebellion. I also visited Tjepu with Gadis Rasjid, a lady journalist
from Djakarta who had followed the operations with a Siliwangi battalion.
49
Mr. Albert Mangara Tua Tambunan was born in Tarutung, Tapanuli, in 1911. He
earned his degree from the Djakarta Law Faculty in 1940. During the Dutch and Japa-
nese colonial periods, he worked in the judiciary. After the Revolution broke out,
he became a top leader of the Protestant party, Parkindo, and served as a member of
the KNIP Working Committee after November 1945.84
On our way there, we had to pass bridges wholly or half-destroyed by
the rebels. On my return to Jogjakarta, I asked Pak Dirman’s permis-
sion to take a few days rest at Kaliurang. I was physically and men-
tally exhausted, and moreover, I wanted time to comprehend the tragedy
that had befallen us.
What was the central dispute that had led to so much bloodshed
and tears at a time when everyone knew that a Dutch attack was inevita-
ble, even though it was not certain when? Was it a difference of opin-
ion on the proper policy to adopt in facing the Dutch? Oddly enough,
Bung Amir himself had signed the Renville Agreement. Was it merely a
struggle for power? Or was it the result of ideological conflict? Was
communism, the product of nineteenth-century Western Europe fused with
the ideas developed by Lenin and Stalin in early twentieth-century
Russia, continually to cause Indonesians to fight Indonesians in mid-
century? I am no expert on Marxism. But it has been said that Karl
Marx himself once declared, MI am not a Marxist.” What I have read of
Marx and Engels often captivates me, for one can often feel echoing in
their words the tears and lamentations of workers who functioned as
modern slaves during the early stages of the large-scale industrial
development of Western Europe. The works of Stalin and Lenin often
astound me by their penetrating and daring analysis. But does this
mean that we have to introduce into our nation the endless mutual re-
criminations, so characteristic of Western (including Russian) thought,
between Marxism and non-Marxism, between revisionism and non-revision-
ism, and so on? Must this lead us to hating, and even killing, one
another? Is it impossible for us to lead our people toward prosperity
and happiness without repeating all the developments and conflicts ex-
perienced and not yet overcome by the societies of the West, including
Russia?
If ideological conflict among our people inevitably leads to kill-
ing one another, will armed conflict not eventually develop between
Islamic and non-Islamic ideologies? Will our boys, our soldiers, also
have to "settle11 such conflicts later on? Where, then, is the end of
the road that we shall have to travel if ideological antagonism in our
country leads to large-scale armed conflict? Our thinkers must give
direction and substance to the philosophies of the various groups in
our country. Achmad Tirtosudiro and some of his friends came to see
me at Kaliurang at that time; they urged me to study Islam in order to
find a means to prevent problems between Islamic and non-Islamic ide-
ologies from leading to armed conflict so as to avoid another Madiun-
style tragedy. I promised to try. Some months before writing these
memoirs, while lecturing at the Army’s Staff and Command School in Ban-
dung (ten years after our talk at Kaliurang), Lt. Col. Achmad Tirtosu-
diro, now an instructor, reminded me of my promise. Yet I doubt whe-
ther I will ever feel competent to propose any answer to the problem.
Be that as it may, let us return to our story of the people’s war
against the Dutch.
After leaving Slendjingan on March 22, we reached Simo in the
northern part of the Surakarta region on March 25, 1949, passing
through Djombongan, Masaran, Plupuh, Gemolong, and Katjangan. We
crossed the main roads at night; where necessary, troops provided by
Military Sub-District Commanders escorted us. We spent our nights at
places recommended by the commanders we visited on our way. The day85
before we arrived at Simo, we met Deputy Governor Winarno50 in one of
the villages. He was also "touring" the region.
Long before we got to Simo we saw that the bridges had been com-
pletely destroyed. At Simo we met Ir. Effendi Saleh,51 among others.
Perhaps he had	given the technical instructions for	the	destruction of
these bridges.	Dr.	Aziz Saleh,52Ir. Effendi's brother,	Lt. Col. Rudi
Pirngadi,55 and	Maj .	Supardi51* were also at Simo. As	had	been the case
in Jogjakarta,	some	of those who had left Surakarta	had	gone north.
This group was now based in Simo and its surroundings. Others had fled
south and were living on the slopes of Mount Lawu.
Dr. Aziz is a very hardworking person. He is a boy scout leader,
and, in the best sense, he is a grown-up who has remained a boy scout
deep down inside. He hoped to turn Simo into a base for "Wingate"
operations in the Semarang region. But he had first to solve two seri-
ous problems:	how to increase the number of troops and how to train
cadres. But Dr. Aziz never lost hope. As a good boy scout he kept
smiling in the face of problems which I personally felt were almost
insoluble.
On March 26, we left Simo with an escort from the Student Army
led by Muktio. Muktio told me that about 135 members of the Surakarta
Student Army had been killed since the Dutch attack. I had no idea
whether this estimate was accurate, but certainly a large number of
these boys has been killed. The Student Army had been playing a highly
important part in the people's war.
That night I wrote in my notebook:	"One of our future problems
is going to be planning for the students who have now been fighting
for the Republic for almost four years. How we solve this problem
will help determine Indonesia's future."
After an eight-hour walk from Simo, we arrived at Bedji. Col. Dr.
R. Winarno Danuatmodjo was bom in Klaten, Central Java, in 1909. During
the Dutch period, he worked as a bookkeeper and editor. After the Proclamation of
Independence, he joined the civil service and, by 1948, had risen to the rank of
Resident, seconded to the staff of the Governor of Central Java. He was affiliated
with the PNI.
^Ir. Mas Mohammad Effendi Saleh was bom in Djakarta, in 1912. He was gradu-
ated from the Technical Faculty in Bandung in 1939. During the colonial period, he
served in the technical branch of the civil service. After the Revolution began, he
held a position in the central railway office.
52
Dr. Aziz Saleh was born in Djakarta, in 1914. He was graduated from the
Djakarta Medical Faculty in 1942. During the Revolution■, he served as a physician
in the army and in 1948-1949 commanded the Semarang-Pati Sub-Territory.
53
Rudy Pimgadie was bom in 1917 and was trained in the colonial artillery in
West Java before the war. During the occupation, he worked as a censor at the mili-
tary radio station in Djakarta. After the Proclamation of Independence, he served
as communications officer with the Seventh Division in the Malang area and later
with the Engineering Battalion of the Fortieth Regiment in the Seventh Division. He
later joined Nasution's staff and, in 1949, after the Dutch military action, became
the Deputy Chief of Staff, Java Command Headquarters.
^Supardi commanded a battalion in Patjitan, East Java, in the Fourth Division.86
Pratignjo and Lt. Col. Suriosumarno55 had been killed near here shortly
after the Dutch attack.
On March 27 we reached Manisrenggo, then the seat of the Java Com-
mand Headquarters. At the time of our arrival, the Secretariat was
busy at work in one of the houses. Many youngsters were typing up in-
structions and letters. Maj. Sukendro supervised all this work. He
was a Bandung high school student who had taken part in building up
the Army after the Proclamation of Independence. In West Java, the
number of university and high school students who joined the Army after
the Proclamation exceeded that in other provinces, probably because
Djakarta and Bandung had always been the main centers for university
and high school education. Our army in West Java developed an air dis-
tinct from that of the army in other regions, at least in part because
it included many officers raised in all parts of Indonesia and just
out of high school or university.
Boy Djajadiningrat,56 a Lieutenant Colonel in the Navy, had appar-
ently been "misplaced" and had become a middle ranking officer at the
Java Command Headquarters. As a result, many instructions issued by
the Headquarters on the Java mainland were signed by an officer of the
Indonesian Navy.
On March 28, I had a discussion with Col. Nasution, the Java Army
and Territory Commander, who lived not far from the Headquarters Secre-
tariat. I had known Nasution since we had attended the Military Academy
in Bandung together. Nas had first been a teacher, but he had also
passed his senior high school examination at the same time as getting
his teacher’s certificate. After spending a year in South Sumatra as
a teacher, he became a cadet at the Military Academy in Bandung, to-
gether with Kawilarang,57 Askari, Kartakusuma,58 and myself. At the time
Suriosumarno was a former KNIL officer. After the military reorganization
of 1946, he had charge of the Artillery Section of the Ministry of Defense.
^R. B. Dj aj adiningrat was one of the few Indonesians trained in the Dutch
Naval College in Rotterdam. During the occupation, he was interned for a short
while. After the Revolution began, he joined the Republic’s navy and soon assumed
an important position in it.
57
Alex E. Kawilarang was born in Djatinegara, Djakarta, in 1920. He was a
classmate of Simatupang and Nasution at the Royal Military Academy in Bandung in
1940. During the Japanese occupation, he worked in Sumatra in various private capa-
cities. In 1945, he returned to Djakarta and joined the Republican Army. He first
served as Chief of Staff of the Bogor Regiment, and then, when it was incorporated
into the Siliwangi Division, in 1946, as its commander. In February 1948, he com-
manded the Second Brigade of the Division, quartered in Sukabumi, and later the First
Brigade for a brief period. He joined the Hidjrah and took his brigade to Jogjakarta.
He was next transferred to Sumatra and during the second Dutch action, he commanded
Sub-Territory VII (North Sumatra), based in Sibolga.
^Mohammad Rachmad Kartakusuma was born in Tjiamis, West Java, in 1920. He
studied at the Bandung Royal Military Academy in 1940. He was serving in the KNIL at
the time of the Japanese invasion and briefly imprisoned. On his release, he worked
in the central railway office in Bandung. In 1946, he commanded the Tasikmalaja-
Tjiamis-Garut Regiment and then served as Chief of Staff of the Third Division in
Tasikmalaja. He was transferred to Banten as Chief of Staff of the Division there
under the command of Col. K. H. Sjam’oen. After that he was appointed Chief of
Staff of the Second Division in Tjirebon replacing Askari. He moved next to Jogja-
karta to assume the post of Chief of Staff to the Director-General of the Ministry of
Defense, and later went to Sumatra, becoming Deputy Chief of the General Staff of the
Sumatra Command. He served in this latter post throughout the second action.87
of the Japanese aggression, Nasution commanded a platoon in East Java.
During the Japanese occupation, he lived in Bandung and was very active
in various semi-military youth movements, such as the Seinendan, Bari-
san Pelopor, and others.
In the second half of the Japanese occupation, I too came to live
in Bandung. Askari, Kartakusuma, Nasution, and myself, together with
Sasra and Badjuri (who had both been reserve officers before the Japa-
nese attack) often used to practice fencing on the flat roof of the
Bumi Putera building where Nas lived. Kawilarang was then hiding on a
plantation in South Sumatra, after escaping from a Japanese concentra-
tion camp. In those days, we worked to widen and intensify our mili-
tary studies, interrupted by the arrival of the Japanese. Reading
Clausewitz gave me the impression that the textbooks at the Military
Academy gave only superficial quotations and adaptations from the work
of this German writer, who was a real Denker und Diehter. The works of
Liddell Hart and de Gaulle, which were not covered in the lessons at
the Military Academy (the textbooks there were simply copies of those
used at the Breda Military Academy in Holland, the most important of
which was a text on strategy by Captain Spoor) introduced me to the
new ideas developed in Western Europe between the two world wars. A
book by Tom Wintringham, written when Britain was threatened by German
invasion, and particularly a number of books dealing with the people's
war in China, opened my eyes and mind to a type of warfare based on a
politically conscious population.
We began to think more deeply about the military problems we might
soon encounter, given new developments in Indonesia, should the course
of the war, particularly in Asia, take a different turn. In the mean-
time, the Japanese had set up Peta battalions which gave military
training to a considerable number of our young people. Later on, after
the Proclamation of Independence and the founding of our Armed Forces,
myself and a number of young officers in the Army, Navy and Air Force
(such as Martadinata,59Hasanuddin, and Saleh Rahardjodikromo) started
a special club in Jogjakarta for the study of military science with
the idea of promoting fresh thinking on the problems of warfare. At
the suggestion of some philologists, we called the club Yudha-gama,
which they said meant science of war. (Since 1950, a magazine pub-
lished by the Ministry of Defense in Djakarta, a theoretical journal
devoted to the development of our system of national defense, has used
this name.)
After the Proclamation of Independence, Nasution was at first
assigned to the West Java Command, then led by Maj. Gen. Didi Karta-
sasmita. Subsequently, he replaced Arudji Kartawinata60as commander
of one of the three divisions then existing in West Java. When these
59
R. E. Martadinata was bom in Bandung, West Java, in 1921. He enrolled in
the Dutch naval school but only completed his training during the occupation. In the
early years of the Revolution, he was one of the officers important in the planning
and organizing of the Republic1 s navy. In 1948, he was appointed Deputy Commander
of the navy for Atjeh-North Sumatra.
^°Arudji Kartawinata was born in Garut, West Java, in 1905. During the colo-
nial period, he was active in the PSII, and served as its secretary-general from 1936
to 1940. During the occupation he joined the Peta and served as battalion commander
in Tjimahi, near Bandung. In October 1945, he acted briefly as Commander of the
Third Division but was soon replaced by Nasution. He was Deputy Minister of Defense
in the second Sjahrir cabinet (representing Masjumi) and also in the Amir cabinet
(representing the PSII, a splinter breakaway from Masjumi).88
three divisions were merged into one division with the name of Sili-
wangi, Nasution became its first commander. After the first Dutch
attack and the signing of the Renville Agreement, the Siliwangi Divi-
sion was "evacuated" to Central Java. Among all the commanders who led
the people's war during the first Dutch attack, Nasution alone made a
report which could serve as the basis for conclusions about the best
preparations for any subsequent Dutch aggression. His analysis of the
people's war during the first Dutch attack showed that he was a capable
tactician and organizer. Now, in the face of the second Dutch attack,
the Java Command was in his hands, while that of Sumatra was held by
Col. Hidajat, who also had experience in the people's war in West
Java as a deputy division commander during the first Dutch attack.
Hidajat was a graduate from the Military Academy at Breda. He,
Surjosularso, and Suriadarma belonged to the last group of graduates
before the German occupation.
In March 1949, Nasution and I discussed the different possibili-
ties the near future might hold in store. On the basis of radio re-
ports and the newspapers, we felt that the return of our people from
Bangka to Jogjakarta was only a matter of time. The Dutch could no
longer prevent this, so our problem was:	what to do next? We decided
that we must give definite, concrete advice to the government, after
first meeting in Jogjakarta with the Panglima Besar.
That same day, I also talked with Col. Djatikusumo,61 who was quar-
tered not far from Manisrenggo. A Solonese prince, he had been an
engineering student in the Netherlands. For a short period prior to
the Japanese attack, he had trained in a reserve officers' course in
the Dutch East Indies Army. During the Japanese occupation, he served
as a Peta officer, and, after the Proclamation of Independence, he be-
came Division Commander first in Salatiga and later in the region of
Pati and Bodjonegoro. At the time of the Dutch attack on Jogjakarta,
Col. Djati was Governor of the Military Academy. After the attack, he
and some of his cadets had slipped out of the city and headed north-
wards. He pointed out to me the places where these cadets had fought
and suffered casualties. We discussed the general situation, prepara-
tions for re-entering the city (in which the cadets would have a role
to play), and the problem of military education in the future. But I
also noticed that Prince Djatikusumo gave no less attention to develop-
ments in Surakarta than to these military problems.
On March 29, we left Manisrenggo, a fertile area on the slopes of
Mount Merapi where the rivers run small and clear. We crossed the main
road between Jogjakarta and Kaliurang not far from the point where my
car had broken down on the night of December 18, 1948, only a few hours
before the Dutch attack. After spending the night in the salak orchards
^G. P. H. Djatikusumo was born in Surakarta, Central Java, in 1917. He at-
tended the Institute of Technology in Delft and, on the eve of the war, returned to
Indonesia and enrolled in the Reserve Officers' Training School. During the occupa-
tion he served with the Peta in the Solo area. After the Republic was proclaimed,
he was the first commander of the Fourth Division, covering the Pekalongan-Semarang-
Pati area. He then headed the consolidated Fifth Division (Ronggolawe) in the Pati-
Bodjonegoro area after the May 1946 reorganization. In 1948, he was assigned to the
Army General Staff of the Ministry of Defense before being placed in charge of the
Military Academy in Jogjakarta.89
south of Kaliurang, we crossed the road between Jogjakarta and Magelang.
We continued walking, crossed the Progo River, stopped for a short
while at Dekso, and finally arrived at the hamlet of Banaran on the
afternoon of March 31.
I am not a Javanese; I am an Indonesian born in Tapanuli. None-
theless, in all my wandering around Java during this war of independ-
ence, I never once felt like a stranger. Sjafrudin, a son of West
Java, who directed the entire people's war from the mountains of
Minangkabau, certainly felt no stranger there. It was the same with
Hidajat, also from West Java, who led the people's war in Sumatra;
with Simbolon,62who was born in Tapanuli and led the people's war in
South Sumatra; with Kawilarang, hailing from the Minahasa region, but
leader of the people's war in Tapanuli and East Sumatra; with Nasution,
who was born in Tapanuli and served as the Java Commander; with Sadikin,
from Banjumas, who headed the people's war in Solo; and with Sungkono,
again from Banjumas, who led the war of independence in East Java.
What better evidence could there be that the people's war was a nation-
al war, even though conditions required its organization on a regional
basis?
Yet the people's war also had its specific regional aspects. Wag-
ing war on its own resources, even within a broader framework, natur-
ally increased a region's confidence and self-respect. Within each
region tales of local heroism were born and swelled the pride of its
inhabitants. The sense of sharing a common destiny among military
leaders, government officials, and community leaders in each region
was also unquestionably strengthened during the people's war. More-
over, the local traditions of each region were widely used to mobilize
the people for the war. I saw myself how the memories of Diponegoro's
struggle were a living factor in the area around Banaran. In Central
Java--and apparently also in East Java--Djojobojo's predictions gave
strength and guidance to the people. In other regions, different sym-
bols were used to bind the people to the cause. Java waged its people's
war quite separately from Sumatra, although both recognized the leader-
ship of the Emergency Government of the Republic of Indonesia and of
the Panglima Besar. But each region, great or small, waged the people's
war on the basis of its own resources. Perhaps one could say that the
people's war increased our consciousness and self-respect as a nation
at the same time that it strengthened each individual region's con-
sciousness of its own value, strength, and identity.
The forces that were awakened during the people's war could be
compared to the power of a river in flood. I often wondered what would
happen to this power when the war ended. Could we use the immense
power of the river to generate electricity? Could we use the abundance
of water to bring fertility and freshness to the ricefields and gardens
of our people? Or would this powerful force and these agitated waters
create misery and suffering for our people, after their wartime target,
Dutch rule, had been swept away? We would need social engineers capa-
ble of harnessing the tremendous forces generated during the people's
^Maludin Simbolon was born in Tarutung, Tapanuli, in 1916. He was graduated
from the Teachers' College in Surakarta and was a teacher in Palembang from 1938.
During the Japanese occupation, he enrolled at the Officers' Training School of the
Giyugun, the Sumatran equivalent of the Peta. From 1945 to 1946, he headed the First
Sumatra Division, South Sumatra, in Palembang. In 1947, he was assigned to the head-
quarters of the Sumatra Command but was active again in the South Sumatra region
during the second Dutch attack.90
war, in order to bring about happiness and prosperity rather than
misery and poverty.
Such were my thoughts and feelings as I came back "home" to Bana-
ran, after wandering for almost forty days, from village to village
and mountain to mountain, in the regions of Jogjakarta and Surakarta,
where the heart of Java has beaten since the dawn of our history.CHAPTER VI
PREPARATIONS PENDING NEGOTIATIONS
After our return to Banaran, I recorded the following impressions
in my notebook. "In general, the front formed by the people and the
military is satisfactory. Finance and ammunition continue to pose
difficult problems. The internal information service needs improve-
ment. We should try to ensure that the coming negotiations do not
create discord, either between us and the men in Bangka and Djakarta,
or among ourselves."
By this time, it was already definite that negotiations would take
place. On March 23, 1949, the Security Council had instructed the
United Nations Commission for Indonesia to take the initiative in hold-
ing a preliminary conference between the Republic and the Dutch. It
would cover three questions:	the return of the Republican government
to Jogjakarta; cessation of hostilities; and the possibility of holding
a Round Table Conference. The problems we faced in relation to these
negotiations were not easy to solve.
At Banaran, we analyzed the situation as follows. The Emergency
Government of the Republic of Indonesia was the official government
authority, internally as well as externally, while our leaders in
Bangka were officially prisoners of the Dutch. But, clearly, the
Security Council and the UN Commission for Indonesia intended to con-
duct negotiations with the Bangka-Djakarta leadership, for there were
no indications that the Commission planned to contact the Emergency
Government. It seemed that the Bangka-Djakarta leadership would agree
to negotiate with the Dutch, with the assistance of the UN Commission
for Indonesia. The Emergency Government could not repudiate the
Bangka-Djakarta leaders by issuing a statement that the latter had no
right to speak on behalf of the Republic. Such a statement would weak-
en our external position and might create internal disunity. If the
Bangka-Djakarta leaders reached an agreement with the Dutch and the UN
Commission for Indonesia, it would be even more difficult for the Emer-
gency Government to repudiate it. On the other hand, if the results
achieved were not satisfactory to us, then a split might develop be-
tween those in favor and those against.
What could be done? The best solution, of course, would be to
arrange a pre-negotiations meeting between the President, the Vice-
President, and the Bangka-Djakarta leaders, on the one hand, and the
Emergency Government, the Central Government Commissariat for Java,
and the Armed Forces leadership, on the other. But Dutch facilities
would be required to conduct such a meeting, and these would clearly
not be given.
The Emergency Government and the Armed Forces leadership could,
of course, send representatives to Djakarta. But this, too, required
the consent of the Dutch, who were still in control in Djakarta. More-
over, psychologically it would be very strange if the Emergency Govern-
ment and the Armed Forces leadership, while leading the people's war,
sent delegates to Djakarta to assist leaders imprisoned by the Dutch
9192
to negotiate with their wardens. In fact our leaders in Djakarta did
at one time ask the Armed Forces Command to send a delegation to Dja-
karta, but the Command had no choice but to reject this request.
The only remaining alternative was to send a letter by courier to
our leaders in Djakarta and Bangka. We had the opportunity to do this;
Minister Djuanda was in Jogjakarta and he had already flown to Djakarta
several times in the UN Commission's airplane in order to help prepare
for the negotiations. This was also the case with the Sultan. Our
courier to Jogjakarta could easily deliver a letter to the Sultan or
to Minister Djuanda, who could then take it to Djakarta.
We would need to carry on extensive propaganda among the rank and
file of the people's guerrilla forces in preparation for the coming
negotiations. Up to now, our internal propaganda had been aimed solely
at igniting the spirit of resistance to the Dutch. Negotiations were
bound to create a new situation. The motives of our leaders in Dja-
karta and Bangka in conducting the coming negotiations would have to be
carefully explained to our people. Otherwise, a situation might arise
where the people would receive the results like a bolt from the blue
and feel consternation and anger.
As Deputy Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces, I sent letters,
through Minister Djuanda, explaining the attitudes, outlook, and psy-
chology prevailing among our rank and file, hoping thereby to prevent
the Djakarta-Bangka leadership from making unacceptable decisions. At
the same time, I had to explain to the rank and file what motives and
objectives would guide our leaders in the coming negotiations.
It was not very pleasant to find myself caught between the Dja-
karta-Bangka leaders and the rank and file in the countryside as nego-
tiations with the Dutch approached. In such a position, I could only
too easily be accused by the men in Bangka and Djakarta of being "ex-
tremist" and by the rank and file of being too "soft." Though unhappy
about placing myself in such a position, I felt that, as Deputy Chief
of Staff of the Armed Forces, I could not evade this responsibility.
Under these circumstances, I sent the following letter from Bana-
ran to Minister Djuanda in Jogjakarta:
6 April, 1949
Your Excellency,
Following Your Excellency's return from Bangka, we eagerly await your im-
pressions of that visit, especially with regard to the views prevailing in
Bangka (and Djakarta) on the strategy for carrying on the Republican strug-
gle. We are particularly interested in:	the agenda of the coming negotia-
tions; our tactics in these negotiations; Your Excellency's own opinion of
the perspectives of these negotiations; the problem of a cease-fire; the
question of a Round Table Conference; the issue of the return of Republican
territories (in conformity with the Security Council Resolution of January
28); the role of the BFO people and the Republic's tactics towards them; and
efforts to unite all the Republican groups. These efforts have been isolated
from each other as a result of the Dutch aggression and each has developed
in its own way, leading to rather different positions on the principles of
our struggle and different assessments of the importance of the various fac-
tors involved.93
As I explained in my previous letter, I see the most pressing problem as
the need to unify as many of the scattered Republican groups as possible
under a government with true internal and external authority. Accordingly,
the unconditional return of the Republican government to Jogjakarta, prior
to any cessation of hostilities or a political settlement (Round Table Con-
ference, etc.), is essential. This means that the only acceptable item on
the agenda for preliminary negotiations should be the return of the govern-
ment to Jogjakarta. Only after its return and after consultations with the
Emergency Government, the leadership of the Armed Forces, and probably with
the political parties or what is left of the Working Committee of the KNIP,
can negotiations on a cease-fire and a political settlement have the prospect
of winning support from the majority of the people and from the Armed Forces.
From the reports reaching us here, we conclude that the Dutch will not
accept such a procedure. So I presume that, even on the question of the
agenda, conflicts will probably emerge which may lead to a deadlock. The
Dutch will doubtless pressure the Republic to accept an invitation to a
Round Table Conference and to issue orders for a cease-fire prior to any
decision on the return to Jogjakarta. The Dutch, moreover, apparently in-
tend to bargain for the return to Jogjakarta by establishing various condi-
tions and restrictions. If this proves to be the case, then we must decide
whether we can compromise or whether we should refer the question back to
the Security Council with the reasonable hope that the majority will support
us. It is absolutely essential for us to know the views prevailing in Bangka
and Djakarta in order to coordinate our actions effectively.
The Dutch will no doubt present the formal argument that the recent
Security Council resolution declared that talks should concern:	the cessa-
tion of hostilities, the return of the Republic to Jogjakarta, and a confer-
ence in The Hague. They will also, of course, present the political argument
that, if the Republican government returns to Jogjakarta without any commit-
ment to a cease-fire and participation in a Round Table Conference, it will
come under the influence of extremist groups and the Armed Forces. It follows
that the Dutch will probably propose the following solution: The Republican
government may return to Jogjakarta, but the Dutch government "considers it-
self responsible" for preserving the Republic from "pressure" by extremists
and armed groups. Therefore, the Dutch will propose that their military
forces remain in Jogjakarta, or at least, that our military forces do not
re-enter the city. This clearly will cause a stalemate. But the question
arises as to when, according to Bangka, would be the best moment to reach
this deadlock. The General Assembly will meet soon, and the Dutch may delay
the moment of deadlock until after this session is over.
From here it is obviously difficult to determine to what extent our
leaders in Bangka will have to accede to the wishes of the BFO groups in
order to ensure that a majority will join us in a united front. We should
also make sure that our position does not make it too difficult for outside
groups eventually to support the government's political line. Admittedly,
achieving a balance between these different currents of opinion will be dif-
ficult, and every mistake will be exploited by the enemy for their own bene-
fit. The problem of a cease-fire is a case in point. As I mentioned in my
previous letter, the Republic's stand in this matter must be determined only
after consultations with His Excellency the Panglima Besar. By the terms of
the Security Council Resolution of January 28, the government must be able
to consult with whomever it thinks fit as soon as it returns to Jogjakarta.
In my opinion, at the very least, His Excellency the Panglima Besar, the
Staff of the Armed Forces, and the Java and Sumatra Army and Territory Com-
manders should be provided with transportation. I think we have a convincing
argument for delaying the talks on a cease-fire until the government has con-
sulted with the Panglima Besar.94
It should be emphasized that a cessation of hostilities must be negoti-
ated first; the problem is very complicated, and Dutch instructions so far
cannot be interpreted as implementing the January 28 Resolution. It should
also be stressed that the eventual cease-fire must apply not only to the
Republic, but also to the Dutch. To participate in such negotiations, the
Republic must also send along technical experts. Theoretically, the Dutch
or the Commission may counter that such experts only be allowed to attend a
conference in Djakarta. This, however, is unacceptable. The psychological
consequences of any such negotiations would be very detrimental.
If discussions on the technical aspects of a cease-fire are held (i.e.,
following the return of the government to Jogjakarta and consultations with
the Panglima Besar), they will be very difficult because the overall situa-
tion is so complex (as already analyzed in Col. Nasution's memo). But we
will have achieved one concrete result already--the return of Jogjakarta--
and this will strengthen our position organizationally, politically, and
psychologically. A deadlock might still arise in the technical negotiations,
but I suspect that somehow a solution would eventually be found, since both
parties would need one. Whatever happens, some way out will ultimately be
found if both parties feel it is imperative.
The Dutch are now launching a campaign alleging that leftist groups are
so powerful in the area south of Jogjakarta that a civil war may break out
if the government comes back. This is absolutely untrue; we are strong
enough to control the situation inside and outside the city in the event
that the government returns; all preparations have been completed.
It is true that certain political groups are now systematically trying
to undermine the government’s prestige and are urging a change in the govern-
ment (and in the Army leadership). But these groups are not very powerful,
certainly no more powerful than before the Dutch aggression. It is most
important that the Armed Forces be able to concur in the government's policy.
If we can achieve this, then we shall control the situation. It would be
better still, of course, if the cabinet could be strengthened by increasing
its size and replacing some ministers. How does Bangka feel about this?
In case of a deadlock in the preliminary negotiations, either on the com-
position of the agenda or in the negotiations themselves, then the Indonesian
question will be referred once again to the Security Council (and possibly
discussed in the General Assembly). But, here in Indonesia, the fighting
and political activity will continue as before.
In Sumatra the Dutch seem to have achieved some results--perhaps only
superficial ones, but still useful to Dutch propagandists. In Solo and
Pasundan, too, they have apparently succeeded in infiltrating "separatist
ideas" even into the military. The extent of their success here is as yet
unknown. Nonetheless, the number of Dutch soldiers killed and the frequency
of our attacks have certainly not declined.
I think that noncooperation is actually decreasing, and, at the same time,
the political position of the federalists is moving closer to that of the
Republic.
All this leads to the question:	Which of us has time on his side? Who
does it weaken more, us or the enemy? This question requires thorough analy-
sis, but, for the time being, allow me to conclude this letter by expressing
my oonviotion that we shall triumph.
Second Deputy Chief of Staff
of the Armed Forces
(T. B. Simatupang, Colonel)
P.S. May I kindly request Your Excellency to pass on the substance of this
letter to Djakarta.95
The above letter gives an idea of the policy pursued "externally"
at that time from Banaran. The following observations were sent "in-
ternally” to the Panglima Besar, the Java Army and Territory Commander
Military Governors I to IV, the heads of departments, and the Informa-
tion and Documentation Division of the Armed Forces Staff for wide dis
semination. Copies of these observations, as in the case of other
letters, were "mailed" at the Java Command post at Dekso, just as some
one in an "ordinary" community would mail letters at a regular post
office. Couriers took them from Dekso to their respective addressees.
Our guerrilla PTT [postal service] operated quite satisfactorily,
though naturally more slowly than the PTT in the Dutch-occupied
regions.
OBSERVATIONS
April 8, 1949
I.	General
The work of consolidating and perfecting our organization continues
everywhere, though the mobilization of students is still not running smooth-
ly. Efforts to provide legal security for the people have continued; they
include the establishment of a (military) police force, courts of justice,
and actions against disruptive elements. The problem of financing the troops
and the civil service and of social security for their dependents living in-
side and outside the occupied towns remains one of the most difficult and
important problems. The best solution would be to establish official commit-
tees in the towns to act on behalf of these dependents and, if possible, to
provide these committees with support from outside of town. We face a diffi-
cult problem concerning ammunition and explosives. Aside from economizing
on ammunition, we should provide coordination between the regions for distri-
bution and exchange of the supplies as needed and also on their seizure,
theft, or purchase from the enemy.
Efforts to extend our territorial organization into long-occupied regions
and to pursue military operations there have continued in spite of the slow
progress so far achieved. The number of enemy casualties remains virtually
constant, indicating that our resistance has not abated. Experience has
proved that the enemy cannot achieve significant results so long as the
morale of our army remains good and the people*s front supports it. The
enemy tries, therefore, to undermine the resistance by indirect methods:	by
political activities (Surakarta, Pasundan);1 by spreading false reports de-
signed to create mutual suspicion; by breaking the people*s spirit (bombing
kampung and market places, burning down houses, and other atrocities), and
perhaps by agitating against our leaders (the government and the military
high command).
Indications suggest that the enemy will intensify attempts to agitate in
and lure regions distant from the center (West Java, East Java). We must,
therefore, step up communications and personal contacts with these rather
isolated areas to prevent them falling easy prey to enemy provocation. Con-
tact with Sumatra and foreign countries continues uninterrupted.
II.	International events likely to affect us
The American (and West European) bloc and the Russian bloc are strength-
ening their respective positions. Russia has achieved considerable success
This perhaps refers to the Dutch promise that the special status of the Sura-
karta Principalities would be restored if the rulers would cooperate with the Dutch.
Their special status had been abolished after the 1946 social revolution.96
in China, while the American bloc has intensified its internal organization
(the Atlantic Pact). Signs portending an early outbreak of world war have
not yet appeared; both sides are apparently still in the preparatory stage.
The Atlantic Pact is creating closer ties between the Dutch and the
United States. This may result in either of two alternatives:	America may
exert more pressure on the Dutch to resolve the Indonesian problem speedily,
or America may adjust its own position to Dutch policy, giving the Dutch
money and arms. As for the United States itself, some signs have appeared
that it wants to pressure the Dutch to settle the Indonesian problem first
before giving them money and arms within the framework of the Atlantic Pact.
For the present, then, one cannot know definitely what effect the Atlantic
Pact will have on the situation in Indonesia. We have seen that so far the
Asian nations are not in a position to give more than moral and diplomatic
support. They are trying to bring the Indonesian question before the General
Assembly of the United Nations, but this too will have only moral and diplo-
matic significance. In brief, no significant international developments have
occurred which change our position; the outcome of the conflict depends main-
ly on events in Indonesia itself.
III.	Possibilities for negotiations
In pursuance of the Security Council recommendation of March 23, 1949,
the UN Commission for Indonesia has invited the Republic and the Dutch to
hold preliminary negotiations in Djakarta concerning:	the return of the Re-
publican government to Jogjakarta; a cease-fire; and the possibility of hold-
ing a Round Table Conference. The Dutch have accepted the invitation, but
with the reservation ’’that the negotiations cannot lessen Dutch responsibili-
ty.” The Republic has also accepted, but with the reservation that, in the
first instance, it is prepared to discuss only the return of the government
to Jogjakarta. In other words the government must return to Jogjakarta
first; it must have time to settle down there as a government and to hold
necessary consultations (including, of course, with the Emergency Government,
the Commissariat of the Central Government, and the military high command);
only then can negotiations on a cease-fire and a political solution begin.
Given these circumstances, the UN Commission will no doubt try to find a way
out and if this proves impossible, the Indonesian problem may once again be
referred back to the Security Council.
In the meantime, fighting and political activity will continue in Indone-
sia. Should we eventually reach the point of holding detailed technical dis-
cussions on implementing a cease-fire, clearly such discussions will be very
difficult, because the troops of each side occupy positions in the "sphere”
of the other. Dutch strategy seeks to achieve an agreement with the Republi-
can government on a cease-fire and a political settlement before a return to
Jogjakarta because this will create conflicts later between the Republican
government on the one hand, and the political groups and the Armed Forces on
the other. Such conflicts would weaken the position of the President and
Vice-President, and by extension our position as a whole. Our leaders in
Bangka, however, want to reestablish a cohesive unity, centered in Jogja-
karta, between the government, the military, and the political groups. Such
a unity would enable us to counter the Dutch from a single strong position.
IV.	Political events in Indonesia
The majority of "states” which the Dutch founded to counterbalance the
Republic now support the Republic against the Dutch. A small fraction under
Dr. Mansur2 remains subservient to the Dutch. Our leaders in Bangka face the
2
Dr. Mansur, an East Sumatra aristocrat, was made head of the Dutch-sponsored
state of East Sumatra, formed in December 1947.97
problem of finding a position acceptable both to the great majority of the
federalists and to the Republicans, a position on which we can build a power-
ful front against the Dutch. The Dutch are busily manipulating feudal groups
and regionalist sentiment (for example, in Sumatra and Pasundan) to undermine
our unity.
Without abandoning our vigilance, we should carefully avoid making any
"enemies” when we can achieve greater results by using tact. We have already
received a report from Lt. Col. Abimanju, Deputy to the Fourth Military Gov-
ernor, on developments in Pasundan that the Dutch have been loudly exploiting
in an effort to weaken our morale. His report makes it clear that there has
been no cooperation, only a local cease-fire called by two battalions, be-
cause they wanted to deal with Darul Islam first. Nonetheless, he emphasizes
that this cease-fire contravenes our organizational principles, since exter-
nal relations are the prerogative of the government of the Republic. Some
way should therefore be found to annul the results of those local talks.
Efforts should also be made so as to concentrate the Darul Islam’s ener-
gies solely on the fight against the Dutch. The Pasundan affair shows how
inadequate communications and contacts can be exploited by the enemy as part
of a strategy of "divide and rule." We must work unceasingly to establish
contacts, from top to bottom, from bottom to top, from left to right, and
from right to left.
V. Conclusion
In the current situation, with its numerous possibilities—negotiations,
deadlock, etc.--we must ignore agitation and whispering campaigns. We must
work to preserve unity and increase ties with all groups. We must preserve
our fighting spirit, but at the same time improve our territorial organiza-
tion and extend it to include the entire population in an active role for
the defense of our independence. In this regard, we need to expand the
battlefield to regions occupied prior to the Second Dutch Aggression which
until now have remained quiet. We must rectify our mistakes and shortcom-
ings.
In the field, April 8, 1949
Second Deputy Chief of Staff
of the Armed Forces
(T. B. Simatupang, Colonel)
I sent an abridged version to our leaders in Djakarta and Bangka,
and I cabled a survey of the attitudes prevailing among our rank and
file to the Emergency Government in Sumatra. I also sent a letter to
Dr. Leimena in Djakarta urging that talks on the technical problems in-
volved in a cease-fire be delayed until after our return to Jogjakarta.
As I mentioned in my "Observations” above, the Darul Islam was a
problem in West Java. Reports made it increasingly clear that in sev-
eral parts of West Java a sort of triangular warfare raged between the
Republic, the Darul Islam, and the Dutch. Although our troops had been
withdrawn from West Java after the signing of the Renville Agreement,
the people’s resistance against the Dutch had never ceased. But lead-
ership of this people's war had gradually passed into the hands of
groups previously enrolled in the Hizbullah. Officially, the Hizbullah
had merged with the TNI during Amir Sjarifuddin’s period as Minister of
Defense. Kartosuwirjo,3 then the top Hizbullah leader in West Java,
3
S. M. Kartosuwirjo was born in Tjepu, East Java, in 1905. He was active in
the Jong Islamieten Bond before becoming private secretary to Tjokroaminoto in98
had even been officially appointed Deputy Minister of Defense in the
Sjarifuddin Cabinet. As far as I know, however, he never went to Jogja-
karta to assume his post. Prior to the second Dutch attack, we in
Jogjakarta had always believed that the people's war in West Java
basically supported the Republic, even though its methods did not con-
form with official policy. When the first Siliwangi troops arrived
back in West Java after the second Dutch attack, they had expected the
Darul Islam troops to welcome them as old friends. And to be sure,
first reports did indicate that our troops were cordially entertained,
but later on, the Darul Islam suddenly launched an all-out attack.
Among the officers killed in this tragedy was Maj. Simon Tobing, a
cheerful and courageous young man and a capable commander, whom I had
known very well. Obviously, the Darul Islam considered itself at war
with us, and it waged this war according to its interpretation of the
Islamic laws of war, for example, those on confiscation of property,
prisoners of war, etc.
When we received these reports at Banaran, I recalled my conversa-
tion with Achmad at Kaliurang a couple of days after the Siliwangi
troops had taken Madiun. Had armed conflict stemming from antagonisms
between Islamic and non-Islamic ideologies already begun at the very
moment when the nation as a whole faced the Dutch? I was neither an
expert in Islam nor a follower of the Islamic religion. I therefore
found it difficult to agree when Achmad and his friends asked me to
study the problem of Islam in our state and nation in the hope that we
could prevent an armed conflict between Islamic and non-Islamic ideolo-
gies such as had already occurred between the Communist and non-Commu-
nist ideologies. I felt that others were better qualified to make such
a study.
I was convinced that the demise of Dutch rule in Indonesia was
only a matter of time, as soon as the ruling circles in Holland made
further progress in their mental outlook and political awareness.
"They cannot easily abandon the old idea of a kingdom comprising the
Netherlands, the East Indies and the West Indies, with which they have
been indoctrinated since childhood. But though it may be difficult
psychologically, they must soon realize that this old idea can no
longer be maintained," I explained to Noes Mokoginta at Banaran. We
faced a more critical problem:	once Dutch domination of Indonesia
officially ends, would we be able ultimately to settle the antagonisms
between Communist and non-Communist ideologies and between Islamic and
non-Islamic beliefs which exist in the hearts and minds of our people,
without experiencing endless armed conflict? In the history of Western
Europe, the Catholics waged war against the Protestants for almost one
hundred years before both parties accepted a new principle--the idea
of nationalism--which made it possible for Protestants and Catholics
to live as brothers in one "nation," in spite of their religious differ-
ences. Surely one hundred years of armed conflict and hatred would be
too long to wait before building a powerful, "just and prosperous" Indo-
nesia?
1927. In 1931, he became PSII general-secretary and, on Tjokroaminoto's death, vice-
chairman of the party. Throughout the 1930's, he led the most bitterly noncooperating
wing of the party. Finding himself in a minority, he retired from the party in 1939.
During the occupation, he served nominally as secretary of the Masjumi but spent most
of his time organizing a militantly Islamic training center near Malangbong, West Java
He was elected to the leadership of the post-independence Masjumi but concentrated his
efforts on military activities. He declined an offer to serve in Amir's cabinet be-
cause he preferred to remain behind enemy lines in West Java, where he led Hizbullah
units very effectively.CHAPTER VII
THE RUM-VAN ROYEN AGREEMENT
On April 9, 1949, I wrote in my notebook:	"Van Royen1 will ar-
rive in Djakarta on April 12. The Dutch government evidently plans to
give plein pouvoir to his delegation. Van Royen's position will differ
sharply from that of Elink Schuurman2 and Abdulkadir."3 * As we at Bana-
ran saw it, in our analysis of April 9, van Royen's position compared
with that of van Vredenburgh,1* for, like van Royen, he had been vested
with great powers to conduct negotiations on board the Renville , fol-
lowing the first Dutch attack.
Nonetheless, van Royen's position vis-a-vis our delegation would
not be as powerful as van Vredenburgh's had been. During the Renville
negotiations, van Vredenburgh had threatened that the Dutch would
launch a doorstoot if an agreement were not quickly achieved. At that
time, such a threat had a considerable effect on us. Initially, we
had believed that the Three-State Commission, representing the United
Nations, would nullify the Dutch threats.
Early in January 1948, Simbolon, Dahlan Djambek,5 and I were
spending the night at the Independence Proclamation Building at No. 56,
Pegangsaan Timur. Cols. Simbolon and Dahlan Djambek had been sent by
the Sumatra Command to sit with me as members of the Military Commis-
sion during the negotiations. After graduating from the Christian
Dutch-Indies Teachers' College in Surakarta, Maludin Simbolon started
out as a teacher in South Sumatra. During the Japanese occupation he
^Dr. J. H. van Royen was the Dutch representative to the UN at the time of the
second attack. He subsequently headed the Netherlands delegation to Djakarta, in
April 1949, which resulted in the Rum-van Royen Agreement.
2
T. Elink Schuurman was chairman of the Netherlands delegation just prior to
the second Dutch attack.
7
R. Abdulkadir Widjojoatmodjo had been attached to the Netherlands Indies gov-
ernment-in-exile during World War II. In the fall of 1945, he was made head of the
Netherlands Indies Civil Administration. He was chairman of the Dutch delegation to
the Renville discussions, for which purpose he had been elevated to the post of
Deputy Lieutenant Governor-General.
^Jhr. H. F. L. K. van Vredenburgh headed the Dutch Special Committee to the
Committee of Good Offices concerned with supervising the truce after the first mili-
tary action. Subsequently, he led the Dutch delegation to the Renville talks along
with Abdulkadir.
^Dahlan Djambek was born in 1917. After the Proclamation of Independence, he
was commander in the Bukittinggi area and in 1946, the first commander of the Third
Sumatra Division, covering West Sumatra and Riau. He later became Commander of the
Central Sumatra Sub-command, and, in 1947, was Chief of Staff to the Sumatra Command
Headquarters in Prapat. In 1948, he was assigned as military adviser to the Republi-
can delegation in the Renville negotiations.
99100
was an army officer, and after our Proclamation of Independence he be-
came one of the most prominent military leaders in Sumatra. Dahlan
Djambek, also a prominent Sumatran leader, was the son of a famous Mus-
lim scholar from West Sumatra. We had been fellow students at the
Christian Senior High School at Salemba (Djakarta) for three years.
During the Japanese occupation, he became an army officer in West Suma-
tra. Both Simbolon and Dahlan showed great talent and considerable
tact as "military diplomats" during the course of the negotiations.
That night we were awakened by members of our delegation who had
just come from a meeting with the Three-State Commission on the Ren-
ville. At this meeting, the Commission had informed our delegation
that, in talks between the Commission and the Dutch delegation at the
Ryswyk Palace [Istana Negara], van Vredenburgh had threatened that his
government would "resume its freedom of action" if the Republic refused
the Dutch proposals. In other words, van Vredenburgh had issued an
ultimatum to our delegation and used the Three-State Commission as his
courier.
The Commission's report had caused panic among our delegates, and
they had immediately left the Renville and returned to No. 56, Pegang-
saan Timur, where they awakened the three of us. But what could we do?
The effect of van Vredenburgh's threat was strengthened further by our
realization that the Three-State Commission, which we had formerly ex-
pected would protect us from Dutch threats, had proved either incapable
or unwilling to act and had simply passed the ultimatum on to us.
In April 1949, however, the threat of a doorstoot no longer caused
us concern. The Dutch had already tried it, and the only result was
that now they had to negotiate with us once again. The only weapons
that van Royen could use would be promises, flattery, and his own
shrewdness as a diplomat.
Did this mean that Rum would hold a strong position in the coming
negotiations? In a negative sense, this was true, because he did not
have to worry about a doorstoot in case agreement could not be achieved.
Nonetheless, Rum's position had its weak side too:	he would not be
free until an agreement had been achieved.
Calm reflection showed that both Rum and van Royen were in weak
positions because both had to achieve an agreement--otherwise Rum would
remain in Bangka and van Royen would lose the Indonesian question back
to the United Nations again, where the Dutch influence had reached its
nadir! This situation put the United Nations Commission,6 or, to be
more exact, Mr. Cochran, in a strong position in the coming negotia-
tions. It seemed certain, therefore, that eventually some kind of an
agreement would be achieved.
On April 22, 1949, I recorded in my diary:	"Anak Agung and other
BFO leaders have gone to Bangka." The Dutch had created the BFO to
offset the Republic, but now that the Dutch had failed to crush the Re-
public in battle, the BFO held the balance of power. Both we and the
Dutch wanted to win over the BFO and get its support in the upcoming
negotiations. At the very least, each party would seek to prevent the
In January 1949, the UN Security Council reconstituted its Committee of Good
Offices (Three-State Committee) as the UN Commission for Indonesia. The new body had
enlarged powers and could make decisions by a two-to-one vote.101
BFO from siding completely with its adversary. Presumably the BFO
would take advantage of its position to seek concessions from both
sides.
In the economic field, perhaps it would turn out that another
"third party," in this case the Chinese, had gained the greatest bene-
fit from our conflict with the Dutch. While the Dutch and the Republic
were engaged in a life and death struggle, the Chinese had clearly suc-
ceeded in occupying strategic positions in the economy.
We reached these rather discouraging conclusions at Banaran as we
analyzed the reports on the visit of Anak Agung and his BFO friends to
the island of Bangka on April 22, 1949.
The entry for April 26 noted:	"Yesterday Bung Hatta arrived in
Djakarta from Bangka. The Sultan has also just come from Jogjakarta."
When we received this news at Banaran, I concluded that the negotia-
tions in Djakarta had reached a decisive stage. We presumed that Bung
Hatta had come from Bangka to give his and the President's final deci-
sion, while the Sultan's arrival was no doubt connected with the return
of the Jogjakarta region to our own people.
All this strengthened our conviction that the Emergency Government
and the Armed Forces High Command would have no alternative than to
support the agreement now being prepared in Djakarta, in spite of the
fact that we at Banaran still did not know its form and substance. As
we saw it:	"How can the Emergency Government, and specifically the
Armed Forces High Command, reject an agreement which, judging by the
course of the negotiations, will get the blessing of the President and
Vice-President?"
Early in May 1949, a courier came from the city with a letter from
the Sultan, together with two draft statements that would be read re-
spectively by Mr. Rum and Dr. van Royen at an official meeting to be
held between the two delegations under the chairmanship of the United
Nations Commission for Indonesia. As the documents we received were
reportedly only in "draft" form, we studied them carefully and then
composed a note to the delegation with our proposed amendments. How-
ever, before it could be sent to Jogjakarta for transmission to Dja-
karta, Djakarta radio announced that an agreement, called the Rum-van
Royen Agreement, had been reached between the Republic and the Dutch.
It was identical to the "draft" we had received at Banaran, and ran as
follows:
I.	Statement of the Delegation of the
Republic of Indonesia.
(Presented by Mr. Moh. Rum)
In my capacity as head of the delegation of the Republic I have been
authorized by President Sukarno and Vice-President Mohammad Hatta to declare
their personal willingness, in pursuance of the Security Council Resolution
of January 28, 1949 and the guidelines of March 23, 1949:
1.	to issue an order to the armed followers of the Republic to end guerrilla
warfare;
2.	to cooperate in restoring peace and in maintaining law and order; and
3.	to participate in a Round Table Conference in The Hague with the objective
of accelerating the genuine, complete, and unconditional transfer of sov-
ereignty to the United States of Indonesia.102
President Sukarno and Vice-President Mohammad Hatta will urge the acceptance
of such a policy by the government of the Republic of Indonesia as soon as
possible after its return to Jogjakarta.
II. Statement of the Dutch Delegation
(Presented by Dr. van Royen)
The Dutch delegation has been authorized to declare, in connection with
the willingness just expressed by Mr. Rum, its consent to the return of the
government of the Republic of Indonesia to Jogjakarta. It further agrees to
the formation of one or more joint committees under the auspices of the UN
Commission with the objectives:
1.	to undertake the necessary investigations and preparations before the re-
turn of the government of the Republic of Indonesia to Jogjakarta.
2.	to study and advise concerning appropriate measures to be taken to imple-
ment the end of guerrilla warfare and cooperation to restore peace and
maintain law and order.
The Dutch government agrees that the government of the Republic of Indo-
nesia should be completely free to carry on its proper functions within a re-
gion covering the Residency of Jogjakarta, and that this constitutes a step
taken in conformity with the sense of the Security Council’s directives of
March 23, 1949.
The Dutch government once again confirms its readiness to guarantee an
immediate cessation of all military operations and to release forthwith and
unconditionally all political prisoners arrested since December 17, 1948,
within the Republic of Indonesia.
Without prejudicing the right of self-determination of parts of the Indo-
nesian people as recognized in the principles of Linggadjati and Renville,
the Dutch government will not form or recognize states or regions in the
territory controlled by the Republic prior to December 19, 1948, and will
not expand states or regions at the expense of the aforementioned territory
of the Republic.
The Dutch government agrees that the Republic of Indonesia shall be one
of the constituent states in the United States of Indonesia. In the event
that a provisional house of representatives for Indonesia is formed and ac-
cordingly the number of representatives of the Republic in this body has to
be determined, this number shall be half the total number of all members,
excluding the Republican representatives.
In accordance with the sense of the Security Council’s directives of
March 23, 1949 with regard to a Round Table Conference in The Hague, and to
ensure that the negotiations referred to by the Security Council Resolution
of January 28, 1949 be held as quickly as possible, the Dutch government
will make a sincere effort to convene the conference immediately following
the return of the government of the Republic of Indonesia to Jogjakarta.
This conference will work out the procedures needed to accelerate the genu-
ine, complete, and unconditional transfer of sovereignty to the United States
of Indonesia in conformity with the Renville principles.
For the sake of cooperation in restoring peace and maintaining law and
order, the Dutch government agrees that, in all regions outside the Residency
of Jogjakarta where civil servants, members of the police force, and other
officials of the Indonesian government (the Dutch government in Indonesia)
are not now performing their functions, the civil servants, members of the
police force, and other officials of the Republic, where they are still con-
tinuing to perform their functions, will remain in office. It goes without103
saying that the Dutch authorities will assist the government of the Republic
wherever necessary, and on the basis of reasonable considerations, to contact
and hold consultations with anyone in Indonesia, including those holding
civil and military positions in the Republic. The technical details will be
worked out by both sides under the supervision of the UN Commission for Indo-
nesia.
The agreement had become a reality. The sequence Linggadjati-
Renville now had been increased by a new term, Rum-van Royen, which it-
self would lead before long to yet another--Round Table Conference.
How would our people react--in particular those who had till now
been waging the people's war--to the Rum-van Royen Agreement? For us
at Banaran it was already clear that the agreement would arouse suspi-
cion and disappointment and that voices raised for and against it might
create dissension in Republican ranks.
So far this had always been our experience each time we reached
an agreement with the Dutch, i.e., the Linggadjati and Renville Agree-
ments. In addition, feelings of hatred and revenge towards the Dutch
had grown deeper and more widespread during the people's war. I had
seen this with my own eyes near Dekso. The corpses of some white men,
apparently Dutch soldiers killed in the fighting around Magelang, were
found drifting seaward in the Progo River; the villagers--men and
women, old and young--all lined up along the banks of the river to
watch with beaming faces. When I met with van Royen for the first time
after the Dutch troops abandoned Jogjakarta, early in April [August],
I told him about this unforgettable experience in order to give him a
picture of the emotions left in the hearts and minds of the people by
the second Dutch attack.
Suspicion, concern about possible internal divisions, and anger
with the Dutch were clearly evidenced in the message issued by Panglima
Besar Sudirman on May 1, just a few days before the announcement of the
Rum-van Royen Agreement.
The Panglima Besar of the Armed Forces of the
Republic of Indonesia
Message to All Unit Commanders
1.	Discharge your oath and your duty as soldiers of the Republic of Indone-
sia, prepared to guarantee the security and safety of the homeland.
2.	Preserve unity within the military, and make it a unified, unbreachable,
and mighty bastion in the face of any enemy.
3.	Maintain military discipline faithfully and wholeheartedly.
4.	So long as the enemy still rampages in our territory, commanders should
refuse to be lured into considerations of possible negotiations, because
this will only undermine our defenses and our struggle.
5.	Remember and realize that the bitter sufferings we have endured since
December 19, 1948, came about because the majority of our leaders, civil
as well as military, were so hypnotized by "negotiations" they forgot that
the Dutch stood fully prepared for war on our very doorstep.
6.	Leave the problem of negotiations completely to the High Command, which
is responsible for the safety of the Armed Forces as a whole.104
7.	I am fully prepared to present to our government conditions and proposals
which accord with the present burning spirit of the resistance among our
Armed Forces and people, bearing in mind and taking into account the views
of our commanders, above all those directly in charge of the fighting.
8. Do not waver in the face of suffering, for the closer we come to the
achievement of our goals, the harder will be the suffering that we must
endure.
9.	Be confident and have faith that the independence of a state founded
upon its peoplefs innumerable sacrifices of lives and property can never
be destroyed by any human being whoever.
10.	Continue the struggle. I remain in command of you all. God willing,
our sacred struggle will earn His blessing.
Headquarters, May 1, 1949
Panglima Besar of the Armed Forces
of the Republic of Indonesia
Lt. Gen. Sudirman
Nonetheless, an agreement had already been reached, and had become
a reality. Our prime task now was to provide guidance and outlets to
the feelings and opinions within our ranks which already existed or
were developing as a consequence of the Rum-van Royen Agreement. At
Banaran, we spent a great deal of time analyzing this problem. Eventu-
ally we reached the following conclusions, which I submitted to the
Emergency Government and the Panglima Besar in the form of a memo.
The definitive position of the Armed Forces High Command will only be
determined after a meeting of the Military Strategy Council, immediately
following the government’s return to Jogjakarta.
In the meantime, vis-a-vis the outside world, we should continue to sup-
port the position of the President and Vice-President, since a split between
the President, Vice-President, and the leaders in Bangka and Djakarta on the
one hand, and the Emergency Government and the Armed Forces High Command on
the other, would prove catastrophic for us and advantageous for the Dutch.
Internally, we should preserve and increase our strength, in other words
maintain a ’’second front” and prepare for every possibility in case the nego-
tiations eventually end in deadlock.
This later became the basis for a ’’second line” theory, i.e., that
on the ’’first line” we would conduct negotiations while on the ’’second
line” we would continue to build up our forces to be able, if necessary,
to resume the people’s war.
In my capacity as Deputy Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces I com-
posed, on May 15, 1949, the following circular:
51 (SK) GSAP/49.	SECRET
Ministry of Defense
Staff of the Armed Forces
May 15, 1949
From:	Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces
To:	1,-H.E. the Panglima Besar of the Armed Forces of the Republic of
Indonesia.
2. Central Government Commissariat in Java.105
3.	Inspector-General of the Armed Forces.
4.	Java Army and Territory Commander.
5.	Military Governors I to IV.
6. Deputy Chief of the General Staff of Java Command Headquarters I/II.
7. Deputy Chief of the General Staff of Java Command Headquarters
III/IV.
8.	Deputy Chief of the General Staff of Java Command Headquarters
Operations Command.
9.	Chief of the Army General Staff (III).
10.	Director of the Military College for Intelligence Officers.
11.	Chief of Staff of the Military Territory of Jogjakarta.
12.	Information and Documentation Division, Armed Forces Staff.
13.	Military Attorney-General.
14.	Chief of the State Police.
15.	Governor of Central Java.
16.	Col. Wijono.
17.	Res. Maj. Maladi.
18.	Capt. Sahid.
19.	Information Staff of Student Mobilization.
OBSERVATIONS ON THE SITUATION AS OF MAY 15, 1949
1.	New problems
The agreement reached in Djakarta on May 7, known as the Rum-van Royen
Agreement, forces us to review our position and revise our strategy. So far
our guiding principles have been simple:	mobilize all energies and forces,
organize them as effectively as possible, and use them in every way possible
to hurt the enemy. Like all agreements, the Rum-van Royen Agreement will
result in a more entangled, more complex, and more difficult situation than
that which existed before. It will force us to deal with a considerable
number of questions and factors hitherto not of immediate concern to us.
Whether or not we resent this situation, because we are responsible for the
resistance movement, we cannot escape our duty to respond firmly and adopt
a definite stand toward the new problems we face.
2.	Permanent basic principles
Whatever changes occur, a few basic principles remain as guides to
action. Our resistance against the Dutch continues, that is to say, a con-
flict persists between us that can only be solved by a test of strength ,
intelligence, and tenacity. We must continue to mobilize and organize all
energies and forces. The methods for doing this may have to change, however,
if the Agreement is accepted by the governments and populations on both
sides. As we know, the Agreement has already created difficulties on the
Dutch side—Dr. Beel has resigned in protest. Tensions quite possibly will
also develop on our side, perhaps precipitating a crisis. The most important
question we will face in the weeks to come is whether we are capable of over-
coming these tensions and crises without internal schisms.
3.	One strategy and one leadership for the different fronts
We know that up to now our resistance--or "guerrilla war"—has been part
of an overall resistance effort by the Republic which includes, aside from
the guerrilla war front, the noncooperation front in the towns, and the
propaganda and diplomacy front in Djakarta and abroad. We may debate which
front is most important, but it is imperative that the different fronts have
a united leadership and strategy. Furthermore, alongside the Republics re-
sistance, is the resistance, or at least the attempts, made by Indonesians
outside the Republic in the cause of independence. It will be to our advan-
tage if we can also establish a united leadership, or at least a united106
strategy, with them. Otherwise, the Dutch will simply use them against us.
Whether unity in leadership and strategy can be maintained and improved now
that the Agreement has been negotiated will depend on forthcoming develop-
ments .
4.	On negotiations, fighting, unity, and strength
The Agreement signifies we will seek to end the fighting and, for the
umpteenth time, will try to solve our conflict with the Dutch through nego-
tiations. The first problem in this connection is that nobody trusts the
Dutch, and rightly so. Just on general principles, one should never trust
one's enemies, and, more to the point, we have already experienced Dutch
treachery and deceit. Whatever attitude and policy we eventually adopt,
they must not be based on trust in the Dutch.
Does this mean, therefore, that, without further ado, we should annul
the Agreement and behave as if it did not exist? Obviously, to answer this
question, we need first to consider carefully all the eventualities, possi-
bilities, and consequences of our forthcoming decision—not just as it will
affect us but also its impact on the history of Indonesia's struggle for
independence. A decision to annul the Agreement will almost certainly pre-
cipitate a tremendous internal split, arraying against the supporters of the
Agreement and their followers [those who want to carry on the resistance].
Such a situation will hand victory to the Dutch without their lifting a
finger. Certain people and groups here at home will also enthusiastically
welcome such a split, for they themselves have always wanted to create one.
The opinions and hopes of such people differ from ours.
On the other hand, to maintain unity, the negotiations will have to con-
tinue and we shall have to give them a chance, even if only a temporary one,
until they end--in deadlock or success. If the negotiations have satisfac-
tory results, we will devote our energies to developing our country. If
they fail once again, then we shall have to continue the resistance. There-
fore, even if we permit negotiations to proceed, we must continue to demand
conditions which will allow us wide scope for maintaining and increasing our
strength. We should take the following principle as our guideline:	Maintain
unity> provide an opportunity for conducting negotiations y maintain our
strength3 and remain alert for a resumption of hostilities if the negotia-
tions fail. The final decision on this matter will be made in Jogjakarta
after the government's return.
5.	Possibilities arising from the Agreement
So far, all we know about the substance of the Agreement comes from the
newspapers. We do not know yet whether it can be implemented in harmony
with the guidelines mentioned above. This must still be discussed with the
government. However, one of the articles in van Royen's statement implies
that, as a start, in areas outside Jogjakarta, de facto control will be
taken as the basis for administration. Despite the difficulties of estab-
lishing criteria acceptable to both sides for determining who holds de facto
authority in a certain region, it is our duty, especially the pamongpradja
and the police, to create conditions which clearly demonstrate that the
greater part of Sumatra and Java is under our de facto administrative con-
trol.
6.	A meeting between the government and the Armed Forces High Command
To ensure that decisions pertaining to the national resistance are taken
only after every angle has been analyzed and all views carefully considered,
it is essential to arrange a meeting between the government (including the
Emergency Government and the Central Government Commissariat for Java) and107
the Armed Forces High Command (the Military Strategy Council) immediately
after the government's return to Jogjakarta. Whatever the results of this
meeting, unity or division, continued hostilities or renewed negotiations
(while constantly maintaining our strength), at least there will be some
assurance that the decisions will be taken responsibly on the basis of care-
ful deliberations.
Resistance does not mean only aspirations. It means, above all, what
can realistically be achieved at any given stage. Rarely does it happen
that an individual's aspirations coincide completely with joint decisions on
common interests, in this case the struggle of our State and Nation. Yet,
however great the divergences between an individual's aspirations and opin-
ions, and the guidelines laid down for the national resistance, this is no
reason to accuse those with different views of treachery and defeatism.
Second Deputy Chief of Staff
of the Armed Forces
Signed/Sealed
(T. B. Simatupang, Colonel)
On June 6, 1949, Pak Dirman wrote a letter to me in his own hand.
I received it only on June 19. It took the guerrilla-PTT thirteen days
to bring an "express delivery" letter from Pak Dirman1s place to Bana-
ran. This letter expressed his dissatisfaction with a number of the
proposals put forward by our delegation in Djakarta.
Headquarters of the Armed Forces of the Republic of Indonesia
No.:
Subject:
Nature:
Enclosure:
29/P.b./49.
Delegation/Negotiations
Top Secret
One Letter
Merdeka
To:
The Deputy Chief of Staff
of the Armed Forces,
Col. T. B. Simatupang.
Received yr letters with great interest. The political/military/economic
analyses, etc. they contain have given me much valuable material for consid-
eration. I should inform you I recently received a letter from H.E. Mr. Rum,
via the Sultan, asking me to send military representatives to Djakarta imme-
diately, mentioning yr name among others.
I have rejected this request since it does not conform with previous
stipulations contained in the official documents and in the report on the
proceedings of the Prel Conf in Djakarta, wh I received some time ago. For
yr further information, I enclose herewith a copy of my answer to H.E. Mr.
Rum, via the Sultan.
It is my desire that you, too, hold firmly to the stand expounded in yr
own letter that everything should be discussed in Jogjakarta and not in
Djakarta.
May God continue to protect us both so that we can soon meet again safe
and sound. Amen.
Supreme Headquarters, June 6, 1949
Panglima Besar of the Armed Forces
Signed/Sealed.108
On June 27, 1949, I replied.
No. 83(SK)GSAP/49
Secret
Ministry of Defense
Staff of the Armed Forces
June 27, 1949
To:
From:
Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces
Panglima Besar of the Armed Forces
of the Republic of Indonesia
Subject:	Negotiations
I have received and read attentively Your Excellency*s letter No. 29/
P.B./49 of June 6, 1949.
Early in March this year I traveled eastward to meet with Your Excel-
lency. But, while I was in the area of Mount Lawu, negotiations in the
Security Council ended, and it was obvious that negotiations might start
very soon in Djakarta. I therefore felt compelled to return to the Jogja-
karta region in order to follow the negotiations, even from that great dis-
tance, and to submit reports on the real situation outside the towns occu-
pied by the Dutch.
During the preliminary stages, I strongly urged that our delegation agree
to nothing less than the Republic’s unconditional return to Jogjakarta and
that, if the Dutch refused, the Indonesian problem should immediately be re-
ferred back to Lake Success. The delegation itself initially adopted this
same stand, but apparently, after a time, it came to the conclusion, together
with H.E. the Vice-President, that a rather different position would be more
advantageous. And so the Rum-van Royen Agreement was born.
When I received the text of this Agreement, I realized immediately that
it would lead to great difficulties and that only the utmost tact on the part
of all persons responsible would prevent the catastrophe of a split. I wrote
to our delegation urging them to refuse to discuss problems relating to a
cease-fire until after the government returned to Jogjakarta.
Later I received word that a commission to discuss the cease-fire had
been set up but that its discussions would be unofficial. In my experience,
however, so-called unofficial discussions usually end up as binding, and so
I suggested to the delegation that, as a commission on a cease-fire had al-
ready been set up, its discussions should be dragged out until the prepara-
tions for the return of Jogjakarta were finished. At most, only the general
political basis for a cease-fire should be discussed.
Accordingly, the deliberations of the commission on a cease-fire have
advanced very slowly indeed. Indeed, a sort of crisis in the negotiations
has recently developed, because the Dutch have delayed the return of Jogja-
karta in response to our dragging out the discussions on a cease-fire. I
have not yet received the latest reports, but Radio Djakarta announced the
day before yesterday that an agreement on a cease-fire has already been
In view of the most recent letters and documents I have received from
Dr. Leimena, it seems possible that both sides have already accepted Cochran’s
draft plans, though probably with some modifications. According to Dr. Lei-
mena’ s letter, the relevant documents will be submitted later to both the
cabinet and the High Command of the Armed Forces, whereupon each will form
its own attitude. I have already cabled the Emergency Government so that
Col. Hidajat will come to Jogjakarta to participate in the discussions.
signed.109
Even if it is true that both sides in Djakarta have already agreed, the most
important problem, that of the technical military aspects of a cease-fire,
has yet to be worked out. These aspects presumably will be discussed later
after the cabinet and the Armed Forces High Command define their positions.
At this moment various opinions exist within the Armed Forces. I would
like to mention the following examples.
When he met H.E. the Vice-President in Kotaradja, Col. Hidajat reportedly
stated he would carry out any decisions and would only discontinue if they
proved impossible to implement.
Col. Nasution has proposed that we find some way to avoid a cease-fire,
because, according to his calculations, if the fighting continues, the Dutch
will be so exhausted by September that they will be forced to accept all our
demands.
Lt. Col. Abimanju believes that a cease-fire is only possible after a
political settlement. Nonetheless, if the government gives orders to cease
hostilities, they will be carried out. He asks only that the Dutch remain
confined to the towns and that scorched-earth tactics be continued.
Lt. Col. Jani says that he is prepared to wage a long-term struggle, pro-
vided that the problems of ammunition and support for dependents are dealt
with effectively by higher authorities.
Maj. Sudarsono fears that, in the event of a cease-fire, our popular sup-
port will decline, the enforced idleness will lower our military morale,
domestic political problems will increase, and the Dutch will continue to
train their cadres. Indeed, reports from the Netherlands indicate that
training for ’’The Indies” continued.
I have not yet heard any reactions from East Java.
In order to form a firm plan and position for the entire Armed Forces,
one which conforms with government policy as much as possible, these ques-
tions should be thoroughly discussed by the Military Strategy Council. My
personal opinion is that negotiations cannot be stretched out for longer
than three or four months; after that, either war will break out again or
there will be a general settlement. We must work to strengthen the govern-
ment's external position while building up our internal strength and main-
taining unity.
I think we can use the documents sent to us from Djakarta to achieve the
abovementioned objectives. If the war flares up again after three or four
months, we must ensure that in the meantime we have improved our equipment,
organization, etc. If, on the other hand, a general settlement is achieved,
it must be one that is satisfactory for a majority of the groups involved.
In the event of a settlement, we will face a large number of problems, most
importantly:	how to form an all-Indonesian military force; and how to over-
come the effects of the resistance in a constructive manner which will bene-
fit the country (for example, the problem of the students, etc.).
I hope Your Excellency is in good health and that we shall soon meet so
that we can discuss these issues further.
Second Deputy Chief of Staff
of the Armed Forces
Signed/Sealed
(T. B. Simatupang, Colonel)
Copies:
Inspector-General of the Armed Forces
Java Army and Territory Commander110
How were our men in Sumatra reacting to the developments in Djakar-
ta which had produced the Rum-van Royen Agreement? Presumably, they
found it more difficult to follow developments in Djakarta than we did.
Though we were then up in the mountains, we still received letters and
newspapers occasionally from Djakarta and Jogjakarta; our men in Suma-
tra, however, could only follow developments via radio broadcasts and
the periodic cables we sent from Java.
Bung Hatta realized that special attention had to be paid to our
people in Sumatra, specifically to the Emergency Government. On June
5, 1949, he led a party to Atjeh. I subsequently received from this
group the following copy of a letter from Col. Hidajat, the Sumatra
Army and Territory Commander, addressed to Mr. Sjafrudin:
Kotaradja, June 8, 1949
From:	S.A.T.C.
To:	Mr. Sjafrudin
Head of the Emergency
Government of the
Republic of Indonesia
Merdeka
In connection with the Vice-President's visit to Kotaradja, I must convey
to you in great haste the following, through the intermediary of Dr. Halim or
Minister Natsir.7
Obviously, the Sukarno-Hatta government (Bangka) is trying to impose its
concept as the sole alternative. As formulated in a recent cable of the
Emergency Government to the Vice-President, the question now arises as to
whether the Emergency Government can repudiate the guarantees given by the
President and Vice-President in the Rum-van Royen Agreement. The Armed
Forces is in a difficult position.
Generally speaking, the second Dutch aggression has made our pemuda more
extreme and radical, particularly concerning an agreement which they feel is
"inadequate" (unsatisfactory) or too "cheap." In the process of achieving
the Agreement, the formal leader of the resistance, the Emergency Government,
appears to have been bypassed and ignored. Accordingly, the focus of the
resistance is the Emergency Government, because its statement that it is
"not yet in agreement" can be interpreted as meaning "does not agree" with
the Rum-van Royen Agreement.
Furthermore, the technical military problems involved in a cease-fire
are so great that a real cessation of hostilities is virtually impossible.
Not only will a cease-fire strengthen the position (power) of the Dutch but
our own guerrilla troops, scattered over a vast area and living off the
people, cannot, under conditions of non-belligerence, improve either their
7
Mohammad Natsir gelar Datuk Sinaro Pandjang was born in Alahan Pandjang, West
Sumatra, in 1908. In the late 1920's and early 1930's, he was an important leader
of the Jong Islamieten Bond. He was well known for his work in modernist Islamic
education and as a spokesman of the Persatuan Islam (Islamic Union) in Bandung. He
was also active in Sukiman's PII. After the Proclamation of Independence, he became
a principal figure in the reconstituted Masjumi. He was a member of the KNIP Working
Committee and eventually became its chairman. Close to Sjahrir, he became Minister
of Information during the latter's first cabinet, replacing Amir Sjarifuddin. He
continued as Minister of Information in the second and third Sjahrir and the Hatta
cabinets.Ill
living conditions or their discipline. They may even go hungry because the
people will give them little or no support, as security cannot be guaranteed
so long as the Dutch are still in the vicinity. Our resistance demandsy how-
ever > that our military forces, though in a condition of inaction, pending a
political settlement (transfer of sovereignty), should remain in a constant
state of combat readiness in case of a possible deadlock in the negotiations.
My own conclusions, which I have already submitted to the Vice-President,
are as follows. We must avoid dualism or, more precisely, we must create a
single focus for the resistance by bringing together the Emergency Government
and Bangka (or by fulfilling the demands expressed by the Emergency Govern-
ment in its cable dealing with the required guarantees). This will ease the
problems faced by the military.
The government should not "prematurely" issue a cease-fire order and
ignore the views of the respective military commanders (the Panglima Besar,
Simatupang, Nasution, Sumatra [Command Headquarters], Sungkono, etc.); at
the very least, it should assemble these men immediately following the re-
turn to Jogjakarta. Only then may technical decisions be reached.
We should strengthen our position in those regions not yet attacked by
the Dutch and make them bases for continuing the resistance (Atjeh, South
Sumatra, Jogja?). In this connection we should reapply the former govern-
ment strategy of dispersing our strength in the following ratio; government
in Jogja one-third, Atjeh one-third, Overseas one-third. To this end, I
urge Mr. Sjafrudin, after contacting the government in Jogja, to return to
Sumatra and establish his headquarters in Atjeh. Our forces in Atjeh (North
Sumatra) can guarantee the governments safety against a Dutch attack there
(according to reports received, during the next four to six months, the
Dutch will not yet have enough troops to occupy Atjeh). Also with regard to
economicy financial, internationaly and specific regional problems, it is
essential that a central leadership be established in Atjeh.
I urge the immediate review of the decree giving absolute powers to Mili-
tary Governors, and the institution of Regional Defense Councils. In prin-
ciple, I have no objection to the appointment of Military Governors. But
experience in Java and the serious defects evident in the implementation of
the Regional Defense Councils indicate that the Military Governorship should
not be coupled with councils of this kind. A Military Governor-Resident,
whose staff consisted of former members of the Regional Defense Council,
would be satisfactory. In Atjeh, the situation differs; the Military Gover-
nor does not come from the civil administration, and his absolute powers
seriously endanger the civilian situation (safety).
I would like to ask whether there could be a political guideline allowing
the revocation and abolition of the Military Governors1 absolute power based
on the situation in each region, and with the advice of the Military Command.
On the other hand, a radical return to civil administration could endanger
our defenses once again.
Yours faithfully,
Col. Hidajat
Col. Hidajat1s letter depicted succinctly but clearly the position
of the Emergency Government and the Armed Forces High Command, espe-
cially when he said, Mto impose its concept as the sole alternative."
In any event, the President and the Vice-President obviously would be
returning to Jogjakarta in the near future. Accordingly, in my capa-
city as Deputy Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces, I sent Bangka a
"General Report" discussing developments since the Dutch attack on
Jogjakarta on December 19, 1948.112
In his book Vom Kriege, Clausewitz wrote that war is like a chame
leon, that is, its features and forms constantly change, adapting to
the particular conditions of the society which wages it. Our war of
independence thus took on the particular forms and features of our
society.
Clausewitz also wrote that the statesman sees war as a means for
attaining political objectives and believes it should be subjected to
rational political calculation. Clausewitz also realized, however,
that the military leadership views war as an arena in which one com-
petes with the enemy in a "game" in which many factors are "accidental
For the common people and the lower ranks of the military, Clausewitz
said, war is dominated by deep feelings of hatred and enmity, a kind
of blinder Naturtrieb, or blind natural instinct.
As I wrote my report, I consciously tried to interweave the ra-
tional political considerations with the viewpoint of a military man
attempting to comprehend the "chameleon of war." But I knew that I
had not freed myself from the influence of blinder Naturtrieb, the
hatred and hostility towards the Dutch that suffused our society and
Armed Forces in those days.CHAPTER VIII
GENERAL REPORT FROM BANARAN:
DEVELOPMENTS SINCE DECEMBER 19, 1948
Composed for the Government of the Republic of Indonesia
By the Staff of the Armed Forces
I. Introduction
A. General Remarks
On December 19, 1948, only a few days before the night most holy
to Christians, Dutch land, sea, and air forces attacked the Republic
of Indonesia in a manner reminiscent of warfare in ancient times, when
human beings still lived in savagery. With this treacherous act, the
Dutch began implementation of a plan drawn up and prepared long in ad-
vance- -to destroy the Republic of Indonesia by force of arms, without
regard for international pressures (which, until then, had always
blocked secret Dutch scheming) and to impose a "final settlement" on
the Indonesian people solely in accordance with Dutch ambitions and
interests.
Thanks to the determined resistance of the Indonesian people,
which exceeded all expectations, and the concern of a great number of
countries throughout the world, the Dutch plan has proved a complete
failure. In the political sphere, the Dutch failure has been revealed
by their various "improvisations" (such as the so-called Beel plan)
and, in the military sphere, by their organized terrorism against the
villages--a last desperate attempt to break the resistance of the Indo-
nesian people.
The Dutch have now been forced to begin their retreat, both polit-
ically and militarily. Nonetheless, nothing as yet indicates that this
forced retreat has persuaded the Dutch to abandon their basic policy,
a policy which has brought great misery and widespread chaos to our
nation and people.
The Republic has survived a tremendous ordeal over these last
months. But, at the same time, this very ordeal has created a new
situation, new relationships, and new perspectives for the Republic.
These changes must be taken into account in any future efforts to find
the most direct road to a free and prosperous Indonesia. Amid the
chaos and darkness which pervade this country as consequences of the
misguided Dutch policy, the Republic continues to shine brightly as a
guiding star and a source of hope for the people who are fighting and
suffering for the cause of real freedom.
B. Two Separate and Contradictory Roads
Ever since the Dutch unconditionally surrendered to the Japanese
Military Forces early in March 1942 after an. extremely brief resistance,
113114
they and the Indonesians have gone their separate ways. Each had dif-
ferent experiences. When they came face to face again, it became clear
how great were the differences and antagonisms which had accumulated
since the Dutch surrender.
During the Japanese occupation, the Indonesian people, despite
great sufferings, acquired wide experience in national administration,
at levels from which they had been excluded in the past. This increased
their sense of self-respect. National consciousness and aspirations
for independence spread and intensified within all strata, beyond any-
thing achieved by the Indonesian national movement during the Dutch
colonial period. However, the most significant change was that this
national consciousness and these aspirations took on a highly militant
character. Among the youth, military knowledge and fighting spirit
spread to the most isolated villages through the agencies of the Peta,
Seinendan, Keibodan, and Heiho.1
After the Japanese surrender, these forces crystallized, becoming
the Republic of Indonesia. This Republic combined elements which had
been part of the national movement since the beginning of the twentieth
century (though expanded and intensified during the Japanese occupa-
tion) with new attitudes and skills acquired during the war years. The
Republic demanded complete independence for the Indonesian people and
separation from the Netherlands. It was prepared to wager the lives
of thousands of pemuda and, temporarily at least, the nation1s economic
well-being in support of this demand.
The Dutch underwent very different experiences after abandoning
Indonesia to the Japanese. In response to worldwide criticism follow-
ing the military and political fiasco of March 1942, the Dutch Queen
made an address in December, designed to show the world the sincerity
of Dutch intentions to grant independence to their "colonies.” Armed
with this speech and the confirmation of Dutch sovereignty over the
’’Netherlands Indies” given by the Allied forces at Potsdam, the Dutch
confronted the Republic of Indonesia.
C. Differing Perspectives on How to Resolve the Conflict
Within each camp, there were different viewpoints about how to
overcome the conflicting perspectives outlined above. Some groups on
both sides took rigid and uncompromising stands:	in defense of the
Proclamation of Independence and the sovereignty of the Republic, on
the one side, and, on the other, the sovereignty of the Netherlands.
For these groups, a solution to the conflict could only be achieved
through force of arms.
But, in both camps, there were also groups which tried to find a
solution on the basis of common interests. First, both sides desired
to see an independent Indonesia (thus the conflict between them could
be narrowed to a difference of opinion about the way to achieve that
independence). Second, both parties wanted to settle the conflict in
a way that would avoid arousing lasting hatreds between the Indonesians
and the Dutch. Third, both sides wished to prevent Indonesia from
being devastated. Fourth, both sides recognized the advantages to be
^The Seinendan was a semi-military youth organization. Keibodan was an auxili-
ary policy force. Heiho were auxiliary troops attached to the Japanese army.115
gained through cooperation as sovereign states. Fifth, the world de-
sired a peaceful solution to the Indonesian dispute. In both camps,
there were constant shifts of power between the two schools of thought;
in both camps, there were also people who fundamentally preferred the
first path but who, for reasons of tactical advantage, temporarily
adopted the second.
The Indonesian tragedy has brought victory to extremism, but,
even now, both sides continue in their official statements to praise
the course of moderation. All the murder, arson, and torture which
have occurred during the two military actions have consistently been
pictured in Dutch propaganda as "preparations for Indonesia's independ-
ence and Indonesian-Dutch friendship."
D. Linggadjati
Linggadjati represented a victory for the second school of thought.
It recognized both the reality of the Republic of Indonesia and the
sovereignty of the Dutch (though this was not declared explicitly),
and it clearly outlined a course containing specific stages and ending
in complete sovereignty for Indonesia, or, in other words, the liquida-
tion of Dutch sovereignty.
The fate of the Linggadjati Agreement demonstrated that the greater
portion of public opinion on both sides could not accept this projected
course. It became clear that the Dutch intended simply to use Lingga-
djati as an instrument to maintain their sovereignty and, furthermore,
to utilize this sovereignty to negate recognition of the reality of
the Republic and keep control of the time frame for the ending of Dutch
sovereignty in their own hands.
The public could recognize this Dutch intent most clearly in ac-
tions connected with security and military affairs, where the contra-
dictory viewpoints on both sides were translated into concrete issues:
the Dutch army and police, or the Republican army and police. The Re-
publican army had grown up in the Revolution and was inadequately
equipped in terms of both materiel and personnel; naturally, it bore
the marks of the time and the character of its growth.
The Republic argued that, with the recognition of its existence
and the agreement to establish a sovereign United States of Indonesia,
the position of the state apparatus of the Republic was also recognized.
Based precisely on this recognition, the Republic planned to overcome
its own deficiencies, especially those in materiel, and then use this
improved state apparatus as "working capital" for the formation of the
United States of Indonesia.
The Dutch, for their part, argued that they retained sovereignty
and hence were responsible for security; moreover, they said, the Re-
publican forces had demonstrated their own incapacity to guarantee this
security. Thus Dutch forces should be deployed in Republican territory
as well.
The Republic not only rejected the Dutch position but considered
it in contravention of the de facto recognition of the Republic. There-
fore, Linggadjati, an agreement which could have been carried out had
there been honesty on both sides, was "buried." On July 21, 1947, the
first war for independence erupted. This war did not settle the basic116
conflicts. Each side drew its own conclusions from it, as will be out-
lined in more detail below.
E. Renville
The first war for independence introduced a new element into the
Indonesian dispute, namely, direct intervention by the Security Council
(It turned out later that, to all intents and purposes, this meant in-
tervention by the United States.) This resulted in a new agreement--
the well-known Renville accords. It did not, however, eliminate the
contradictions that had led to the first war for independence. On the
contrary, several new ones were created, namely, over the method of
determining the fate of Republican areas now considered Dutch-occupied
territory under the Renville Agreement.
The Republic was prepared to make serious sacrifices, when signing
Renville, in the hope that continued direct intervention by the Secur-
ity Council would pave the way for a satisfactory agreement and would
prevent the outbreak of another war. Apparently, this calculation
overestimated the capabilities of the Three-State Commission (read the
United States).	v
The Dutch, it seems, drew two main conclusions from the first war
and the Renville Agreement. First, because the Republic had been
driven to the most densely populated and poorest areas of Sumatra and
Java, the Dutch believed that an economic blockade (continued under
the very eyes of the Three-State Commission, which took no action other
than to report it to the Security Council) would cause the Republic
internal difficulties and force it eventually to accept Dutch terms.
Second, should the above not occur, the Dutch obviously believed (based
on their experience during the first war) that, if they attacked the
Republic, its resistance could quickly be smashed and that any resist-
ance various groups might carry on could be stopped with the help of
the Republican leaders themselves.
It was true that the Republic experienced difficulties following
Renville caused by economic factors, as in southern East Sumatra;
caused by disturbances created when units withdrew from areas which
had become Dutch-occupied regions according to Renville, as in Tapa-
nuli; and caused by internal political problems. The best example of
the last sort of difficulty was the Madiun rebellion, in which, al-
though economic and social factors played a contributing role, the
prime cause was the incapacity of those considered the political lead-
ers of the Republic to reach a consensus.
The Republican side had drawn different conclusions from the first
war for independence and the Renville Agreement. Some groups believed
that the Renville Agreement provided the Republic with a basis for ex-
istence (for a long time, if necessary) until a general agreement could
be drawn up with the assistance of the Three-State Commission (America)
To this end, the Republic should rationalize its internal structures,
thereby enabling it to prolong its existence on the present basis
should this prove necessary. At the same time, other groups believed
that a settlement could not be achieved through negotiations and,
therefore, that preparations for war in all spheres should be encour-
aged.
This antagonism was felt most profoundly in matters of defense.
In an effort to meet these different views, the Ministry of Defense117
drew up a rationalization plan designed to prepare the Republic for
three possibilities:	war, a general settlement, or a state of pro-
tracted conflict. Based on an analysis of experiences during the first
war, particularly in West Java, a plan was drawn up which would reduce
the size of the armed forces but, at the same time, increase its fight-
ing capacity by improving its organization and its personnel selection.
In addition, a territorial organization would be set up which could
serve as the basis for a protracted people's war.
F. Events Prior to the Second War for Independence
When the present Dutch government came into office, it was already
expected that Dutch policy toward Indonesia would become extremely
reactionary. It was speculated that the new government's plan would
be to seek a solution to the Indonesian problem "excluding the Republic
and the Security Council."
At that time, Republican groups were not particularly apprehensive
because it was believed that the international situation would hinder
any hard-line Dutch policy. It was assumed, therefore, that the new
Dutch government would abandon its hard-line approach after it had been
in office for a while and had understood the dictates of international
opinion.
History has shown that this view was based on an overly optimistic
assessment of Dutch stubbornness.
It turned out that the hard-line Dutch policy was based on three
elements:	the United States, Dutch military power in Indonesia, and
the so-called federalists.
Soon after the formation of the present Dutch government, Minister
Stikker visited the United States. He took with him "evidence" col-
lected by NEFIS which purported to show that the Republic was communis-
tic. He hoped thereby to gain aid, or at least consent, from the
United States which would help the Dutch crush the Republic. These
visits did not produce the desired results, and Stikker (one of the
most anti-Republican Dutch leaders before becoming Minister) conse-
quently proposed a change in Dutch policy toward Indonesia.
The second element in Dutch calculations, namely the Dutch army
under Gen. Spoor,2 naturally strongly supported the hard-line policy.
After the Renville Agreement, the Dutch army's sole preoccupation was
creating a situation "ripe" for the outbreak of war. They published
false documents, circulated rumors about Dutch women allegedly detained
forcibly in Republican territory, provided "evidence" that the Republic
was communistic, and so on. Especially after the Muso rebellion, the
Dutch army information service incessantly spread reports implying to
the world that the Republican government could not restore security.
This war-mongering campaign continued, even though it had often been
shown that the circulated news was false (for example, the reports con-
cerning the petroleum plants in Tjepu) and despite the fact that the
Three-State Commission had asked the Dutch several times to stop.
Lt. Gen. Simon Spoor was Commander-in-Chief of the Dutch forces in Indonesia
from 1946 until his death early in 1949.118
The third element in the policy of the present Dutch government
was the ’’federalists.” These people allowed the Dutch government, for
whatever reason, to use them as tools to ’’legitimize” its hard-line
policy against the Republic. If they had not reached an agreement with
the Dutch (the BIO),3 4 then it is very likely that the Dutch government
would have abandoned its hard-line policy, particularly after it had
failed to gain United States support or approval.
Because of the Dutch government’s viewpoint, negotiations between
the Republican and Dutch delegations were found to fail. Ever since
the Dutch government came to an agreement with the federalists, its
only policy has been to impose this agreement on the Republic as well.
One of the greatest obstacles in the negotiations following the
Renville Agreement was the military and security problem. The Dutch
demanded the abolition of the TNI (the Indonesian National Army). The
Republic wanted the formation under a national government of a national
armed force for the whole of Indonesia and, in the formation of this,
the TNI would take part according to procedures determined jointly by
a (national) interim government and the Republican government. From
the very outset, this national armed force would be under a national
command, separate from the Dutch armed forces.
Three-State Commission assistance could not smooth the way for
settling the conflict between the Republic and the Dutch, because the
Dutch wanted to impose their agreement with the federalists on the
Republic.
Mr. Cochran came to Indonesia after the Republican delegation at
Lake Success had promised that, so long as he was working to reach a
settlement, the Indonesian problem would not be brought before the
Security Council. As a matter of fact, from the time Mr. Cochran ar-
rived in Indonesia until the Dutch attacked the Republic, the Indone-
sian question was not discussed by the Security Council. Reports cir-
culated a few days before the Dutch attack, that, in view of the ex-
tremely critical developments in Indonesia, the Security Council would
take up the Indonesian problem. But after the arrival in Paris of Mr.
Cochran’s representative from Indonesia, the session was cancelled.
Many things surrounding these events remain unclear.
Before they launched their second attack, the Dutch sent two cabi-
net missions to Jogjakarta. The first, that of Minister Stikker,
though at first considered only a propaganda move in advance of an
attack, did arouse some hope that an agreement was not impossible.
Nonetheless, the government regarded the situation as critical, and,
on November 20, 1948, the entire Armed Forces were ordered on the
alert.
The second Dutch mission consisted of Ministers Sassen, Stikker,
and Neher.1* During this visit, an insurmountable difference of opinion
3
The BIO (Bewind Indonesie in Overgangstijd, Indonesian Interim Government)
Decree, of December 14, 1948, established the guidelines for an interim federal gov-
ernment and also the Dutch plan for the final form of the Indonesian state. The
blueprint was, ostensibly, the joint product of the Dutch government and the BFO.
4
Minister of Public Works and Reconstruction Neher was appointed plenipotenti-
ary of the Netherlands government, together with van Vredenburgh, in February 1948.
They were to work along with van Mook in place of the disbanded Commission-General119
arose concerning the status of the TNI and the use of Dutch military
forces during the interim period.
The Vice-President’s trip to Djakarta did not solve these issues
either. He returned with the impression that the Dutch government
planned to form an interim government excluding the Republic in early
January and that the attitude taken by this government would influence
subsequent developments, regardless of whether or not war broke out.
After the departure of the Dutch government delegation, Mr.
Cochran took the initiative in establishing an exchange of notes be-
tween the Vice-President and the Dutch government. In the meantime,
the Armed Forces were ordered on the alert. The large-scale maneuvers
planned for December 19, 1948 were indeed intended precisely to put
the Armed Forces in a state of readiness.
When the Dutch attack began, the exchange of notes through the
good offices of Mr. Cochran had not yet been broken off, and, only one
day prior to the attack, he had flown to Djakarta carrying an answer
to a previous Dutch letter. Consequently, on December 18 no one
imagined that the Dutch would attack the following morning. Moreover,
since the Three-State Commission was at Kaliurang at that time, many
people believed that war would not begin ’’just yet.”
As a result, the Dutch attack came as a surprise and this pro-
vided initial military advantages. History will show whether these
advantages, achieved by such a shameful attack, have not proved insig-
nificant compared with the moral and political disadvantages suffered
by the Dutch because of the nature of their attack.
II. Dutch Plans:	Overly Speculative
A. Main Dutch Mistake:	Facing New Problems with Obsolete Criteria
The Republican Proclamation of Independence forced the Dutch to
reach a decision on their own attitude toward the desire of the Indone-
sian people for independence. Many Dutch leaders tried to sidestep the
issue on the pretext that the Republic was a Japanese creation, or that
it fomented only chaos, or for some other reason. In other words,
these men tried to base Dutch policy positions on a few excesses or
imperfect expressions of the Indonesian desire for freedom.
This attitude was strongest among those groups formerly involved
in ruling the Netherlands Indies:	colonial civil servants, colonial
military people, and colonial capitalists. These groups have dominated
Dutch policy-making during the past four years. One can summarize
their view in terms of three main points. First, they argue that the
masses of the Indonesian people desire only security, which the Dutch
are best able to provide. Second, those who oppose the Dutch return
and thereby to ensure that The Hague could exercise effective supervision over van
Mook. The former Commission-General for the Netherlands Indies had been established
at the end of August 1946 to assist van Mook in negotiating with the Indonesians and
to prepare for constitutional reform in the Indies. Its membership, announced on
September 10, consisted of:	Prof. Schermerhorn, recently resigned Prime Minister and
leader of the Labor Party; van Poll, permanent parliamentarian of the Catholic
People1s Party; and de Boer, a shipping magnate.120
represent only a small fraction, mainly some intellectuals and "armed
gangs." Their opposition stems mainly from opportunism. Third, if
attacked, this minority group could be quickly eliminated, and after-
ward the people would support the Dutch (and be grateful to them).
These groups believed that a fairly small military force could
crush the "armed gangs" of the Republic. They based this assumption
on past experiences with rebellions during the van Heutsz5 era of paci-
fication. They further believed that the intellectuals could be bought
off (without endangering the Dutch position) through the creation of
legislative councils, ministerial posts, etc., and that as a result
they would soon be "domesticated." In this manner, the people would
be pacified, and Dutch rule could be restored with only minor and
superficial changes.
These Dutch groups, who represent the dominant political trend
even now, have never taken seriously the power and dedication of na-
tionalism. It is their attempt to justify their views that has led to
chaos and suffering for Indonesia.
B. Spoor's Note
Some time after the Linggadjati Agreement, Gen. S. H. Spoor, com-
mander of Dutch military forces in Indonesia, sent his government a
note which has apparently become the Dutch policy guideline for Indo-
nesia.
This note contained five main points and knowing them helps in
understanding Dutch policy. First, the Union will have no meaning un-
less Dutch military forces stay in Indonesia. Cooperation in defense
matters, one of the underlying principles of the Union, should be used
to perpetuate Dutch military power in Indonesia. Second, the KNIL,
the Royal Netherlands Indies Army, will be reorganized, and, under
Dutch leadership, will constitute the backbone of the military forces
in Indonesia. Third, to satisfy the demands of Indonesian nationalism
without hazarding the Dutch position, territorial battalions (basically,
territorial auxiliaries) will be established. Fourth, the TNI must be
crushed, because it would be impossible to include it in the aforemen-
tioned plan. Technical matters can be put forward as a pretext, but
the main reason obviously is the TNI spirit which cannot be harmonized
with Dutch programs. Fifth, in order to crush the TNI, it must first
be isolated, that is to say, efforts should be made to prevent the
political influence of the Indonesian leaders from aiding the TNI. In
this way, crushing the Indonesian National Army can be pictured as a
measure designed to wipe out criminal gangs (subsequently adding "com-
munists" in keeping with the anti-communist spirit so popular in the
world today).
Along with the Romme-van der Goes van Naters motion,6 the Spoor
5J. B. van Heutsz won his reputation by his harsh "pacification" of Atjeh
(1898-1903) and was consequently rewarded by appointment as Governor-General of the
Indies from 1904 to 1909.
^Prof. C. P. M. Romme (an influential member of the Catholic Peoplefs Party)
and van der Goes van Naters (a member of the Labor Party) submitted a joint motion
to the Second Chamber of the Dutch Parliament which approved the draft Linggadjati121
Note has been the sharpest Dutch knife used to stab the Linggadjati
Agreement in the back.
C. Dutch Conclusions from Military Events
Prior to the Second War for Independence
The Dutch were convinced that the Linggadjati Agreement occurred
because the Republic was able to bluff negotiators into believing that
it was strong, and as a result Dutch politicians gave a great number
of concessions. But Dutch military people were sure that, in fact, the
Republic was militarily very weak. As proof of this proposition, they
pointed to the Dutch military operations in Krian-Sidoardjo [East Java]
and subsequently in Modjokerto [East Java] and Palembang, where Repub-
lican resistance was quickly and easily broken. They may also have
considered their experience in Bali and South Sulawesi as evidence that
the old colonial army axiom remains valid, that is to say, armed force
may be used to channel nationalism in such a way that it poses no dan-
ger to Dutch power.
From my own discussions with these Dutchmen, I have discovered
that they believe the truth of the above assessment was demonstrated
during the first Dutch aggression and the subsequent Renville Agree-
ment. The Renville Agreement used Republican political influence to
end the people's resistance in areas newly occupied by the Dutch. In
East Java and East Sumatra, especially, the situation calmed down fol-
lowing the Renville Agreement, enabling the Dutch to increase produc-
tion considerably. In West Java, difficulties continued (for which
the Dutch blamed the Republic), but even so the economic situation
improved.
From these experiences, the Dutch apparently became convinced
that, if they attacked the Republic, the political groups would be
prepared to use their influence to end any resistance and that, as a
result, the entire territory of the Republic could quickly be pacified
under Dutch control. Events have shown that this view underestimates
the moral strength of the Republic's political leaders, the fighting
ability of its armed forces, and, in particular, the fighting spirit
of the Indonesian people.
D. Dutch Plans
The planned Dutch pembersihan [lit. clean up, or purge] was origi-
nally scheduled for the interim period when the government would in-
clude prominent Republican leaders, among others, but when the Dutch
would retain responsibility for security. According to this plan,
such an interim period would provide the Dutch army with the best
opportunity to eliminate unwanted elements, and, moreover, the opera-
tions would be carried out under the responsibility of and supported
by the political influence of a national government (the interim govern-
ment) .
Agreement on the basis of the Commission-General's "elucidation" of that Agreement
(one highly favorable to the Dutch). The motion was adopted on December 19, 1946.122
Since this intent underlay Dutch proposals, it was responsible for
the failure of the negotiations with the Republic concerning the inter-
im period. The Republic rejected the Dutch plan, the main purpose of
which was to give them an opportunity to carry out the programs men-
tioned above.
Following the failure of their strategy, the Dutch still hoped to
establish an interim government excluding the Republic and to use this
government to carry out the "liquidation," which represented the main
Dutch reason for introducing the idea of an interim period. Subse-
quently, this plan too was abandoned, perhaps because it was suspected
that the federalists who would sit in an interim government would op-
pose the liquidation, or perhaps because the Dutch believed that the
political influence of an interim government which did not include the
Republic would be too weak to launch the purge. Whatever the case,
the military operation began before an interim government was estab-
lished.
The substance of the Dutch political plan in connection with this
second attack is not completely clear. One thing is obvious--the Dutch
are using this attack deliberately to isolate the politicians from the
Armed Forces, which are referred to in their announcements as "would-be
soldiers." They formulated this idea as a result of impressions gained
during the Sassen mission. Dutch politicians believe that "decent"
Republicans are, in fact, willing to cooperate with the Dutch on Dutch
terms, but that they are frightened by the "would-be soldiers." Thus
the Dutch conclude that, if they strike at the Republican Armed Forces,
the politicians (freed from their fear of the soldiers) will automati-
cally cooperate. Consequently, the TNI will be isolated politically
and can thereafter be destroyed easily. Beyond this, one cannot say
with certainty what Dutch political calculations have been.
Did they intend initially to force the Republic to accept the BIO
after the first military strike? Or did they intend to establish an
interim government excluding the Republic after the first stage of the
attack? The answer is not apparent, nor do Dutch actions indicate what
their initial political plans were. It turns out that the Dutch had
various small-scale political plans for the Republican areas. After
delivering the first military blows, the Dutch then tried to breathe
new life into political forces which, though not completely defunct,
had not been able to stand alone without Dutch military protection, as,
for example, the feudal elements.
The Dutch have proved that they can still make shrewd use of the
classical devices of colonial policy, but, beyond that, any broader
political plan which they may have hoped to combine with the second
military action has turned out to be a tremendous fiasco.
Dutch political plans vis-a-vis the outside world are evidently
based entirely on the predicted results of their policy toward the
Indonesians and their military successes. If the Republic's resistance
can be broken quickly and if an agreement can be achieved with its
leaders (or alternatively if an interim government excluding the Repub-
lic can be established), the outside world will be forced to accept the
fait accompli.
Dutch military strategy is quite simple. The towns that consti-
tute political and military centers will be occupied by quick surprise
operations using all the modern weapons of land, sea, and air warfare.123
Scorched-earth tactics will be prevented by quick operations accom-
panied by threats. Consequently, the material and organizational con-
ditions for a protracted resistance by the Republic will be eliminated.
Dutch statements, such as those by Minister Stikker, assert that,
according to Dutch calculations, organized resistance will cease soon
after the Dutch operation and that the entire TNI will be mopped up in
six months. Clearly, Dutch military and political plans are based on
highly speculative assessments, and their calculations regarding pre-
vention of scorched-earth tactics have turned out to be sheer wishful
thinking.
The speculative aspects of Dutch planning are as follows. There
is no guarantee that Republican military resistance can be broken
quickly. It is doubtful that scorched-earth tactics can be prevented.
It is not certain that any political leaders will cooperate with the
Dutch after the military operation is over. Foreign countries may not
accept a fait accompli.
Dutch policy has increased the difficulties of Indonesia and
caused great devastation and misery. The government of a nation which
pursues a policy containing so many speculative elements has in fact
exposed itself as being without the moral right to demand responsibil-
ity for determining the future of the Indonesian people.
III. The Republic's Plans:	Protracted Resistance
A. All Governments of the Republic Pursue a Peace Policy
From its inception, the Republican government has based its policy
on one main idea--to find a peaceful solution and avoid a force-of-arms
settlement. In line with this, the Republic has invited the attention
of foreign countries, has sought cooperation with Dutch groups which
also reject force of arms, and has threatened to carry out scorched-
earth tactics and to wage protracted guerrilla warfare if attacked.
Now, after being guided for more than three and one-half years by
this policy, the Republic finds that almost the whole of Java and
Sumatra have become battlefields. This experience inevitably compels
us to search for a new approach.
Several reasons lay behind the Republic's peace policy. Most
important, all successive governments apparently considered the Repub-
lic's Armed Forces as being too weak--in organization, discipline, ex-
perience, knowledge, and weaponry--to be employed as the sole means
for driving the Dutch from Indonesia, or at least from Java and Suma-
tra.
There may be other reasons as well, i.e., that the resources of a
country should be preserved for use in development. This includes its
manpower, especially its youth. Many believed that a protracted war
would reduce the conditions for stable and democratic political devel-
opment.
In pursuing its peace policy, the government of the Republic has
always faced two main problems:	from the Dutch with their policy of
the past four years which could not be accepted by any Republican
government without creating domestic rebellion or disturbance; and from124
within the country from groups opposed to the government's policy.
Some opposition has stemmed from the belief that Republican military
power is sufficient to drive out the Dutch, or at least, that it once
was. A larger group maintains that if the Republic carries on pro-
tracted and large-scale people's resistance, eventually the country
will be in such chaos that the Dutch will no longer have any reason to
stay. In other words, they believe that the Dutch will leave Indonesia
because it can no longer provide profits for them. But the most im-
portant consideration for us, the people of Indonesia, is: Would such
a devastated Indonesia be able to provide a livelihood for the Indone-
sian people themselves?
The Republican government has thus always been squeezed between
pressure from the Dutch, with their unacceptable and unreasonable de-
mands backed by their military threats, and pressure from groups at
home wanting a more radical anti-Dutch policy. If Dutch proposals were
accepted, it would cause chaos within the country. On the other hand,
if the government adopted the proposals of the internal groups as offi-
cial policy, war would surely break out in a few days.
Consequently, the Republic warmly welcomed the direct intervention
of the Security Council, which was seen as an authority which could
pressure the Dutch to move closer to Republican views and to adhere to
a peace policy. Meanwhile, the Republic had to be on the qui vive in
the event of a possible Dutch attack.
The Republican government, by seeking to avoid war if possible but
at the same time being prepared for war if peace policies failed, has
been placed in a difficult position. It has given an impression of
weakness and sometimes of fear at home.
B. Developments Following the Linggadjati Agreement
Large elements of the Republic received the Linggadjati Agreement
with great satisfaction. But the atmosphere after the conclusion of
the agreement was unfavorable because of the Modjokerto Affair and the
continuous transportation of Dutch troops to Indonesia. The cloud of
war began darkening the horizon from the day the agreement was signed.
Because of the worsening situation, the Republican government's
plans to implement a policy of construction and consolidation following
Linggadjati could not be carried out. At the same time, plans to re-
duce drastically the size of the Armed Forces and to consolidate them
had to be abandoned because of the threat of war which daily came
nearer in the form of increasingly aggressive war-mongering activities
by the Dutch army propaganda service. The Republic, consequently, had
to take measures to counter the imminent Dutch aggression.
Republican preparations were carried out in the diplomatic and
the military fields. Considering the state of its armaments, the Re-
public had no other alternative than to wage a guerrilla war supported
by the people and accompanied by scorched-earth tactics in the event
of attack. The broad guidelines for the guerrilla war were laid out
in a document which became famous under the name of the "Note of the
Panglima Besar." The principles of the people's support, called
"people's defense," were outlined in State Defense Council Regulation
No. 85.125
C. The First War of Independence and the Renville Agreement
The Dutch attacked the Republic of July 21, 1947. The Republic
had no other choice than that of war. Otherwise, it would have lost
all the results achieved through strenuous effort since August 1945.
This war was forced upon the Republic by the Dutch.
Guerrilla war immediately flared up in West, East, and parts of
Central Java, in East Sumatra, and in parts of West and South Sumatra.
The war raged for seven months, Security Council resolutions notwith-
standing. Then the Renville Agreement ended hostilities.
The Republic cherished considerable hope (even profound belief)
that the Renville Agreement might lead to a further settlement with the
Dutch, which would end all conflict and provide both nations with the
opportunity to develop their respective countries and to ensure pros-
perity for their peoples. Republican government policy after the sign-
ing of the Renville Agreement was, at first, based simply on this hope
and belief. It soon appeared, however, that these expectations were
ill-founded. It became evident that the Dutch had no sincere desire
to achieve an agreement and also that the Three-State Commission, on
which the government had pinned its main hopes, was in fact incapable
of pressuring the Dutch to relinquish their obstructionist policies
and come closer to the Republic's viewpoint. The Republican government
thus found itself in a difficult position.
Because of the Dutch blockade, economic problems in Republican
territories in Sumatra and Java increased. Communication with several
isolated regions, such as Banten and the southern part of East Sumatra,
became very difficult. Threats of war by the Dutch, who had resumed
their war-mongering propaganda, were increasingly felt. The failure
of the government's negotiation policy contributed to a growing strength
in the opposition. In such uncertain circumstances, overshadowed by
threats of war, naturally internal rationalization, such as that car-
ried out within the Armed Forces, could not be entirely successful.
Despite government assurances that the rationalization of the
Armed Forces was intended, among other things, as a preparation for
the possibility of war, opposition continued to grow from those who
charged that the government was ignoring the threat of war.
These political, economic, and social tensions eventually exploded
in the Madiun Rebellion, generally known as the Communist Rebellion.
At bottom, this affair was precipitated by a variety of complicated
factors. For a short time afterward, Republicans hoped that the gov-
ernment's demonstrated power in coping with Madiun would prompt the
world, in particular the United States, to pressure the Dutch to move
closer to Republican views in an effort to achieve an agreement which
would be satisfactory to both sides. Various American groups aroused
hopes in Republican circles that some measure of material help would be
given. All these hopes turned out to be pipe-dreams. Once again the
Republic faced an uncertain political situation, while the Dutch made
increasingly hard and threatening statements.
D. The Republican Plan to Counter the Second Dutch Aggression
Plans for dealing with a possible second Dutch aggression were
discussed in detail at meetings of the Military Strategy Council126
and at a number of cabinet sessions. The first problem to be resolved
was whether Republican strategy should emphasize Java or Sumatra.
After analyzing the problem from various angles, it was decided
that, in view of its vast area, Sumatra would offer a better location
for the government's headquarters in the event of war, but, in view of
its population density, popular political consciousness, and the exper-
ience, quality, and quantity of leadership, Java would continue to pro-
vide the focus for protracted people's resistance. In the months prior
to the second Dutch attack, Col. Hidajat and several selected officers
were sent to Sumatra to increase the number of experienced leaders
there.
As was also the case before the first war for independence, the
Republic's plan contained four main elements:	diplomacy to mobilize
world opinion, scorched-earth tactics, noncooperation in occupied towns
and a protracted people's war.
According to the plan, the President would leave for India to take
charge of diplomatic activities personally. The Vice-President would
lead the resistance from somewhere in Sumatra. The main feature of
this plan was protracted people's war, which, together with noncoopera-
tion and scorched-earth tactics, would have to continue until the
diplomacy built on their results could achieve a satisfactory agree-
ment, or until the enemy was sufficiently exhausted and drained of
fighting spirit to agree to our demands.
In order to prepare for the people's war, the experiences of the
first war for independence were analyzed and used to improve the struc-
ture of the Armed Forces and to establish an organization for mobiliz-
ing and directing popular energies. Of importance in this effort was
Col. A. H. Nasution, Division Commander in West Java during the first
war for independence and later appointed the Java Army and Territory
Commander. His analyses, based on his own experience in West Java,
served as the main basis for the rationalization plans for the Armed
Forces. These plans, as mentioned earlier, were intended, among other
things, to prepare the Armed Forces and to organize national defense in
general along the lines of a protracted people's war. The preparations
for Java were outlined in the instruction known as "Order of the Pang-
lima Besar No. 1."
The main points of the Order were:	immediately after the Dutch
launched their attack, strong military units, accompanied by pamong
pradja, would cross the cease-fire line and head for the regions for-
merly evacuated by Republican troops in accordance with the Renville
Agreement; further, protracted people's war would be waged throughout
Java, directed by military men, in cooperation with pamong pradja, from
centers located outside the towns. The Order also mapped out scorched-
earth tactics.
In general, the operations in occupied regions would be carried
out by troops which had been "evacuated" from these areas at the time
of Renville. Within the Republic's Armed Forces, such operations were
popularly known as "Wingates," after an English general who had led
military operations far behind enemy lines in Burma during World War II
The objective of any war is to break the spirit of the enemy and
thus to force it to accept one's will. The side which believes that
it has sufficient materiel and other assets attempts to achieve its aim127
by destroying the forces of the other side. This was the road chosen
by the Dutch. The Republic, by contrast, did not have sufficient arma-
ments, etc., to destroy its enemy quickly. It had to take a different
path, that is:	in the first instance, to avoid being crushed; and, in
the second, to mount a resistance, together with its people, which
would completely exhaust the enemy and drain its spirit over the course
of a protracted struggle. Thus far, experience has not invalidated
this strategy.
IV, A Brief History of the Resistance
after December 19, 1948
A. The Events of December 19, 1948
On December 19, 1948, at 5:45 a.m., the Dutch began their air
attack on Jogjakarta. The President and most of the ministers were in
Jogjakarta, and the Vice-President was at Kaliurang. Many factors had
prevented the President's planned departure for India. The Vice-
President had remained at Kaliurang, rather than departing for Sumatra,
because the exchange of notes with the Dutch government was still under
way through the good offices of Mr. Cochran. Of the ministers, Mr.
Sjafrudin Prawiranegara was in Bukittinggi, others happened to be out-
side Jogjakarta, and Minister Maramis7 was abroad.
It became clear, early in the morning, that the Dutch attack was
aimed directly at Jogjakarta and that no possibility to leave the coun-
try remained. Consequently, after the Vice-President arrived in Jogja-
karta, a cable was sent to Bukittinggi authorizing Minister Sjafrudin
to continue the administration in case the government in Jogjakarta
was incapacitated by enemy action.
An important question was then discussed at the Presidential
Palace:	What should the President and the ministers do? In the morn-
ing, a move to Wonosari was contemplated as a first step, and orders
were sent to Wonosari to prepare to receive the President and the
government. Later, towards midday, the government decided to remain
in Jogjakarta.
The main reason behind this decision was apparently that even if
the President and the government went to Wonosari, one could not know
for sure what would happen afterward. The possibility that they would
eventually be captured was considered very likely. It was believed
that this would be more detrimental to the people's spirit than if it
were obvious from the very beginning what the situation was--i.e.,
that the government had been captured!
Mr. A. A. Maramis was born in Menado, North Sulawesi, in 1897. He obtained
his law degree from Leiden University in 1924. While in The Hague he was briefly
secretary of the Perhimpunan Indonesia, and, on his return to Indonesia, became
secretary of the Persatuan Minahasa. During the colonial period, he worked as a
private lawyer. Under the occupation government, he was an adviser to the Japanese
Navy's liaison office in Djakarta. After the Revolution began, he became a member
of the KNIP Working Committee. He succeeded Dr. Samsi as Minister of Finance in the
Sukarno cabinet on September 24, 1945; he had previously been Minister of State
without portfolio. He served as Minister of Finance in the Amir cabinet (represent-
ing the PNI) and in the Hatta cabinet.128
In view of this decision, the President and the government would
obviously be captured by the enemy if Jogjakarta were occupied. The
Vice-President issued an order of the day directing the Armed Forces
and the people to fight on, no matter what might happen to members of
the government.
The Dutch occupied Jogjakarta that same day.
B. The First Stage:	The Dutch Achieve Tactical
Gains but Suffer Strategic and Political Failures
The Dutch quickly succeeded in occupying all residency capitals
and virtually all regency capitals within the Republic, with the excep-
tion of Atjeh. Dutch radio reports and newspaper articles described
the state of intoxication with victory rampant in Dutch circles. These
reports contained items favorable to the Dutch:	dispersion of the Re-
public’s Armed Forces; prevention of scorched-earth tactics; seizure
of TNI supplies and capture of its commanders; beginnings of coopera-
tion by the people with the Dutch; and, consequently, a belief that
TNI remnants would quickly be completely wiped out and security re-
stored.
Before long, however, it was obvious to the world that Dutch
achievements were only superficial. It became clear that the resist-
ance could not be broken by taking a number of towns. On the contrary,
the people’s war was only just beginning at the time the Dutch were
announcing to the world that operations were completed. Moreover, it
also was becoming evident to the world that our scorched-earth tactics
had to a large extent been successful.
Dutch policy in Indonesia and toward the outside world achieved
no results. Therefore, even supposing they had ever had a political
plan before launching the second attack, this plan had already failed.
During the first stage, events had conformed with, or did not
differ much from, Dutch plans. However, within a few weeks, it turned
out that the resistance had not been broken and that the people did
not support the Dutch as had been predicted. Clearly, Dutch strategy
had failed.
The Dutch, therefore, could no longer control the political situa-
tion in Indonesia and, consequently, their international position also
became increasingly difficult. The Dutch plan, as a matter of fact,
was too speculative and, after achieving some successes, its weak-
nesses and its fallacies were revealed. Afterward, Dutch actions were
improvisations and reactions. History has shown, however, that such
actions cannot rescue a plan which has already failed because it is
based on fundamental miscalculations.
C. The First Stage:	The Republic Suffers
Tactical Losses and Grave Difficulties, But
Achieves Its Strategic and Political Aims
From the beginning, it was realized that the Republic would not
be able to hold the towns during the first stage. At this point the
Republic’s aim was merely to avoid being annihilated and to prevent the
enemy from enjoying any economic or political benefit from their opera-129
tions. At the same time, the Republic would preserve the conditions
for a protracted resistance and subsequently convert the whole of Java
and Sumatra, including the occupied regions, into combat zones.
The Republic's objective has been achieved, despite the fact that
at first the situation often looked quite gloomy:	a large quantity of
supplies that should have been transported outside the towns was left
behind; communications were broken; and enemy propaganda worked actively
to break our fighting spirit.
But before long, communications were restored with Sumatra and
also New Delhi. Enemy propaganda was counteracted by broadcasts from
New Delhi and Singapore. Gradually, it was realized that enemy forces
were inadequate to enlarge the regions under their control, and in
fact, in the occupied towns and on the roads connecting them, the enemy
proved unable to secure even the safety of their own forces. Thus,
they were in no position to guarantee public security.
The Republic had passed its critical moment and its fortunes began
to rise.
These developments were accompanied by political events at home
and abroad which proved disappointing to the Dutch. All this helped
to arouse Republican fighting spirit and increase confidence in victory.
D. Improvisations, Disorganized Actions, and Dutch Tricks
The Dutch failure has been revealed most clearly by their own
actions, which no longer show any clear design. In the political
sphere, these have included:	the arrival of P. M. Drees; subsequently,
the Beel plan; then the Sumatra conference; finally, the Rum-van Royen
Agreement and Dr. Beel's resignation. Throughout, the Dutch government
has remained in office. All of this creates a very strange impression.
Dutch attempts to establish "federal troop units" and to persuade
prisoners to enlist, because few others were interested, have revealed
their difficult position. Militarily, they have carried out terrorism
against the people, including murder and arson, and have attempted to
conduct local negotiations. Much has already been written about
atrocities by Dutch troops. Such atrocities did occur, but it would
be unfair to blame them on Dutch soldiers or on the commanders of the
Dutch troops. These soldiers and their commanders were ordered to
break the broad people's resistance, but they were not given the neces-
sary military force to do it. Consequently, whether intentionally or
otherwise, they have practiced terrorism and committed cruel and shame-
ful acts in the hope these will break the people's resistance.
History offers many examples of military forces in the position
in which Dutch troops now find themselves employing the same methods
which the Dutch troops now use. Having given the orders to their
military forces in Indonesia, the Dutch government alone bears the
final responsibility for all the savagery:	in South Sulawesi, on the
death railway, at Rawahgede, at Peniwen, and in hundreds of other
places unknown to the public.130
E. Continuous Improvement on the Republican Side
1)	Military Administration
Soon after the war broke out, a military administration was estab-
lished on Java. It was designed to continue the administration under
the existing difficult conditions and to serve as an instrument of the
resistance for mobilizing all energies and resources. It was authorized
by a decree issued by the Java Army and Territory Commander, and later
endorsed by the Emergency Government of the Republic of Indonesia. The
structure of the military administration was set out in instructions
from the Java Command Headquarters.
The military administration was based on three principles. First,
the Republic would continue to resist as a state and using the instru-
ments of a state. Second, no matter how difficult the circumstances
which the war created, the administration would have to continue--even,
for instance, in regions which had become isolated, were frequented by
Dutch patrols, or in which permanent Dutch military posts had been
established. To this end, civil servants at all levels would have to
be paralleled by military personnel, and extensive authority should be
delegated to the regions. Third, the military administration was first
of all a means of resistance, that is, a means for mobilizing and
organizing all fighting forces and a means for using local resources
in the resistance.
The existence of this structure brought about great changes:
broad autonomy for the regions in all fields; civil servants moving
from place to place and taking part in the solving of defense problems;
numerous inexperienced military men having responsibility for adminis-
tration, finance, justice, etc.; new balances of forces; and so on.
Consequently, quite a number of minor problems and controversies arose,
particularly at first. These have been gradually resolved, however,
and the structure of the military administration has increasingly im-
proved. Nevertheless, many problems have not yet been definitively
settled.
Experience indicates that such a military administration consti-
tutes a principal means, perhaps even the main basis, for a protracted
people's war. The issuance of new regulations pertaining to the judici-
ary, police, taxation, and local autonomy has completed and improved
the structure of this military administration.
To assure that the military administration has men with the moral
and intellectual qualifications demanded by their great responsibili-
ties, action is continuously being taken against those found unfit or
dishonest, and new cadres, particularly from among the "mobilized"
students, are being trained.
2)	The Central Government Commissariat in Java
The Dutch capture of the President and the government created a
vacuum at the top level of the Republic's administration. Opposition
movements exploited this, spreading the idea that "the government no
longer exists." The Emergency Government provided leadership to the
resistance and administration on Java only in very general political
matters. It was therefore felt that a center for political leadership
on Java should be established.131
Initially, the Deputy Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces submitted
a proposal to the Emergency Government that a Central Commissariat
should be established, composed of the Panglima Besar and all ministers
engaged in the resistance (Ministers Kasimo, Sukiman, Susanto Tirtopro-
djo, Supeno, K. H. Maskur). The head of the Emergency Government op-
posed seating the Panglima Besar on the Commissariat, on the grounds
that political leadership should remain separate from military leader-
ship. Consequently, the Central Government Commissariat on Java was
composed only of the ministers mentioned above.
The leadership of this Commissariat, for various reasons, has not
made much of an impact on the everyday resistance, and its relationship
to the military command in Java has never been fully defined.
3) Mobilization of Manpower
A strategic factor which greatly favors us is manpower. But, at
the same time, the number of leaders is quite limited when compared
with the number of people who can be mobilized.
Since the establishment of the military administration, practi-
cally the entire population has become involved, through the offices
of the pamong pradja, in the activities of the resistance. Villagers
have been organized so that they can actively support the resistance,
for example, as guides, provisioners, and couriers for the military.
On the instructions of the Java Command Headquarters, villages have
formed guerrilla units, consisting of pemuda, to assist in maintaining
security and to carry out very limited tactical assignments. In this
manner, an inexhaustible supply of reserve forces has been created and
trained.
To meet the pressing need for leadership cadres, two sources have
been exploited--civil servants evacuating the towns, and students.
Many of the refugee civil servants are now employed in the various
agencies of the military administration, depending on their respective
skills. Many of them have made valuable contributions, such as the
Attorney-General, Mr. Tirtawinata.8
The most extensive pool of leadership cadres during the resist-
ance, however, has been the students. These students have long been
organized in armed units under such names as the Tentara Peladjar (TP),
the Tentara Republik Indonesia Peladjar (TRIP), and the Tentara Geni
Peladjar (TGP). All these are now organizationally incorporated into
one brigade, the Seventeenth Brigade. Throughout Java, and in several
places in Sumatra too, student units have attained a respected name
among the Armed Forces, the people, and even the enemy. These student
units have suffered some of the highest casualties. So long as a whole-
hearted struggle for national independence at the risk of one's life
remains highly valued, the names of TP, TRIP, TGP, etc., will be
honored. During the first Dutch attack and after the Muso uprising,
the government mobilized students who were not yet enrolled in organ-
ized units to assist the resistance and the efforts to reconsolidate
the administration and reassure the people.
8
Mr. R. Tirtawinata was born in Bogor, West Java, in 1900. He obtained his
law degree from the Djakarta Law Faculty in 1931. During the Dutch and Japanese
periods he worked in the legal administration, rising continuously in its hierarchy.
He became Attorney-General in 1946.132
In view of the need for leadership cadres to conduct the resist-
ance, especially in the military administration, the Chief of Staff of
the Armed Forces issued a decree on the "Mobilization of Students," on
February 1, 1949. The decree stipulated that "all high school and uni-
versity students not yet organized into armed units should be mobi-
lized." Subsequent procedures determined how this mobilization would
be carried out, and how students would be trained and assigned specific
tasks.
So far, this program has produced satisfactory results, but the
mobilization of students will have to be continued until a general
settlement is achieved. This means that high schools and universities
cannot yet be reopened. At the same time, measures should be consid-
ered which can maintain knowledge and cultivate enthusiasm for study
among students now performing tasks in the resistance.
One as yet unsolved problem of the resistance is the mobilization
of medical personnel. Prior to the second Dutch attack, the Ministry
of Defense held discussions with the Ministry of Health about this
problem, but they did not achieve any results. Consequently, after
the Dutch attack, only a very small number of medical personnel were
on duty outside the towns to provide medical care for the people and
the military. This problem should be settled when the Ministry of
Health resumes operations.
Yet another unsolved problem is how to provide an opportunity for
political organizations to participate in resistance activities. When
the Dutch attacked, the domestic political situation was very precari-
ous. The consequences of the Front Demokrasi Rakjat [People's Demo-
cratic Front], or FDR, rebellion had not been surmounted, and restric-
tions on political activity were still in force. The FDR had previously
been the most powerful and best organized of all the political organi-
zations, trade unions, and youth organizations in the Republic.
Both the conflict between the former FDR groups and other politi-
cal groups and the restriction on political activities continued dur-
ing the resistance. Local attempts have been made to form political
fronts to include all groups in a particular region in opposition to
the Dutch. But, at the same time, other ideas, particularly the be-
lief that all political activity should be ended or banned, which were
already present in various Republican circles prior to the Dutch attack,
have also become more powerful, particularly in certain Armed Forces
circles.
These issues should be settled in a statesman-like way, for they
are some of the basic problems which will determine the structure and
bases of political development within the Republic for a long time to
come.
Other difficulties concern the financial and material needs (in-
cluding technical needs) of the resistance. A printing shop to produce
currency has been built, but its capacity cannot meet the need. Ef-
forts continue to establish armaments factories, etc.
One may conclude, however, that satisfactory solutions to these
two problems will only be found if a new road in that direction is dis-
covered.133
F. Some Important Communications
The Vice-President, concurrently Minister of Defense ad interim,
issued an order of the day, on December 19, 1948, which called for the
beginning of a people's war. Even though communications links were
broken at first, we found out subsequently that all troops had carried
out the plans mapped out in advance.
As a result of the Dutch attack and the military operations and
political-administrative measures taken by the Republic in the occupied
regions (established by Renville), the difference in status between
various regions in Java and Sumatra has disappeared and the status quo
lines have ceased to exist. This new situation can not be overturned,
and any settlement must inevitably make the same arrangements for all
of Java and Sumatra.
In a couple of weeks, it was possible to restore communications
in Java, though so far links with certain regions have not been per-
fected. Communications with Sumatra and the outside world (New Delhi)
were successfully re-established in the middle of January 1949, and,
despite occasional difficulties, we have been able to maintain them up
to now.
The persistence and determination of members of the Armed Forces'
communications service, with the assistance of many people from Radio
Republik Indonesia, the PTT, and others, have enabled the establishment
and maintenance of all these communications which are so crucial to the
resistance.
On June 11, 1949, Maj. Maladi sent a report stating:	"The activi-
ties of colleagues of the communications service of Military Governor
II, guided by God the Most Just, enabled the establishment, on June 7,
of telecommunications with stations in almost every part of the world--
including Los Angeles, Seattle, Liverpool, Birmingham, Brazil, Berlin,
Zurich, and Holmstadt [?]. These communications will facilitate world-
wide dissemination of news about the Republic, transmitted by us under
the name of 'Rep Indon Press,' in the same manner as information was
formerly distributed by the Antara Press Bureau. Hopefully, news from
the Republic will soon be published by Reuters, the Associated Press,
and other world press agencies."
Truly this accomplishment is a product of persistence that is
worthy of note.
1) Communications with the Emergency
Government and Representatives Abroad
On January 19, 1949, the Second Deputy Chief of Staff of the Armed
Forces sent the first cable to the Emergency Government of the Republic
of Indonesia. It contained a report on the situation following the
Dutch attack of December 19, 1948, undertaken "when the exchange of
notes through the intermediary of Cochran was still under way." The
report included the following assessments:
Ds have taken the towns, but as their military force has proved insufficient,
they seek control situation by reign of terror. Result is continual fight-
ing, arbitrary arrests, killing, burning of settlements, and political and
economic chaos. The people suffer greatly, and only withdrawal of forces
will bring normalization of situation and cease-fire.134
Subsequently, the Java Army and Territory Commander has made peri-
odic reports on the situation in Java. The Central Government Commis-
sariat in Java, the Panglima Besar, and the Inspector-General of the
Armed Forces have also frequently sent reports on the situation to the
Emergency Government and to our representatives overseas. These re-
ports have allowed the Emergency Government and our representatives
abroad to determine Republican policy and to provide information on the
real situation in Indonesia. In particular, each time the Security
Council schedules a meeting on the Indonesian question, efforts are
made to give the Republican delegation at Lake Success an idea of the
current situation and opinions in Java.
In view of an announced Dutch plan to nullify the Security Council
Resolution of January 28, 1949, the Second Deputy Chief of Staff of the
Armed Forces sent a cable to the Emergency Government and our represen-
tative in New Delhi on February 28, 1949. This cable ran in part as
follows:
SC Res designed to negate results of D aggression and to enable holding fair
negotiations once again. But D plan is intended to use Rep leaders to legal-
ize results of aggression and use prestige these leaders to facilitate con-
tinuation of aggression.
They intend settle the Indon problem within framework of reform of Kingdom.
D plan obscure. No guarantee results of plan will be supported by majority
of Indon people, hence no guarantee it can lead to lasting solution.
Given the possibility that the Dutch would attempt to find a solu-
tion which bypassed the Republic, I sent a cable on March 3, 1949,
stating:
The govt which D will prob set up w/out Rep participation will encounter
genl opposition. Auth and power of Rep will eventually overthrow such govt.
We will not recognize any commitments it may make.
On March 19, 1949, exactly three months after the Dutch attack on
the Republic, a cable on the general situation was dispatched to the
Emergency Government and our representatives in New Delhi. It con-
tained the following:
Three mos ago, D began attack under very eyes of SC and UNC. For three mos
D have continued aggression witnessed by the Comm, and despite SC Res call-
ing for end to attack.
Describing the situation after three months of aggression, and re-
porting that "the greater part of Java and Sumatra are controlled by
the Republic," I submitted the following conclusions:
D attack has caused many deaths both sides and large-scale destruction; has
jeopardized prestige of SC and made more difficult reach settlement in Indon;
has brought losses to Ds, to Indon, and to world in genl.
There are two approaches to a solution:	first, continue fighting until one
party is exhausted, and second, negotiations. The first road entails total
destruction of this country, but we are prepared to take this path if no
alternative. Basic precondition for following second road is Rep territory
must be returned. Negotiations cannot be based on legalization of gains
from aggression or undertaken from position as prisoners.135
On April 11, 1949, I cabled the following:
Van Royen*s strategy demanding cease-fire and a pol solution bef govt return
Jogjakarta contravenes common sense. Apparently, he proposes it only as
part of D plans to delay settlement. If van Royen’s demand is accepted,
situation in Indon will become even more difficult and chaotic. This appar-
ently is in keeping with D policy toward Indon, which is to create greatest
possible chaos.
In connection with the talks on the return of Jogjakarta, I cabled
the Emergency Government on April 30, 1949:
In principle, current negotiations concern question of whether Rep govt will
return Jogjakarta in strong or weak position. Even if negotiations are suc-
cessful and Ds abandon Jogjakarta, does not mean resistance over or things
will be easier. Return of Jogjakarta signifies only new stage in resistance
which shd be exploited to utmost.
After the Run-van Royen Agreement, it was evident that the Emer-
gency Government still distrusted Dutch policy and wanted international
guarantees against Dutch treachery. In this connection, I cabled the
Emergency Government on May 18, 1949, as follows:
Suggest following course to EG. Externally, shd back Pres and Vice-Pres and
take steps assure govt will have opportunity to conduct negotiations from
most favorable position. Internally, shd form a second defense line and
build our strength in case deadlock occurs. To this end, EG shd remain where
it is, even after govt return Jogjakarta. EG shd be reconstituted as Sumatra
Commissariat, but may be changed into EG again any time.
Further:
TNI troops shd remain in place until sovereignty transferred or until dead-
lock occurs and fighting resumes. Definitive settlement regarding TNI troops
after transf of sov can be reached jointly by govt USI and govt Rep Indon;
in short it is national issue and D intervention shd be opposed.
Concerning the visit of the Vice-President to Atjeh, on June 4,
1949, I cabled the Emergency Government as follows:
In this context, have proposed fundamental problems re cease-fire and defense
and security generally be discussed jointly by Pres, Vice-Pres, head of EG,
Central Govt Comm in Java, Pang Bes, and other armed forces commanders in
Mil Strat Council after return govt Jogjakarta.
In each step, attempts must be made prevent, repeat, prevent, any loss or
weakening of our present strength under EG (incl ability wage protracted
people*s war) until transf of sov achieved.
Also worthy of note was the cable to the Minister of Foreign
Affairs of the Emergency Government, in New Delhi, which requested him
to arrange the shipment of medicine from abroad.
2) Communications with Our Delegation
and Our Leaders in Bangka
At first, all attempts to make contact with Djakarta and Bangka
failed. The first letter sent by the Staff of the Armed Forces to our
delegation was dated March 17, 1949, and was addressed to its secre-
tary.136
In the letter it was stressed that:	"It is a condition sine qua
non for the success of our resistance that some coordination of strate-
gy should exist between the Republican groups which were separated by
the Dutch aggression and in their own ways are currently carrying out, re-
spectively, diplomacy, noncooperation, scorched-earth tactics, or broad
people's resistance." Then, the danger of the present situation was
pointed out:	"It is obvious that the enemy is going out of his way to
create divisions in our ranks and seeks to crush us one by one or,
worse yet, to conclude some sort of alliance with one or more groups
to crush the others."
Since delegation members received daily news only from the Dutch
side, it seemed necessary to emphasize the following:
Let us not be influenced by the enemy's bluff. The enemy will never be able
to control the situation in this country so long as we mount a resistance.
If need be, this resistance can continue until the enemy is exhausted. Ad-
mittedly, our sacrifices have been great, but they have been made and will
continue to be made willingly. Do not take these casualties into account
when making decisions.
The letter closed with the following conclusions:
Based on this analysis, I note the following as the essential conditions for
a settlement:
1.	Republican groups must be reunited as one integrated organization
enabling the government to exert its influence and power.
2.	The restoration of security and order must not be interpreted as
tantamount to continued aggression (as the Dutch intend). Rather a termina-
tion of aggression should be regarded as the first step toward security and
should be followed by others, including withdrawal of Dutch forces.
There will be no peace in Indonesia if these conditions are not ful-
filled.
Early in April, the ministers in Jogjakarta had the opportunity
to go to Djakarta and Bangka. Since then, it has been possible to es-
tablish broader contact with Djakarta, and, indirectly, with Bangka.
In addition to providing the delegation with a picture of the
situation and viewpoints which exist outside, the letters sent by the
Staff of the Armed Forces were based on the belief that negotiations
should be conducted in such a manner as to restore a powerful unity
among groups divided by Dutch aggression.
On April 6, 1949, I wrote the following:
Only after the government has returned to Jogjakarta and has held consulta-
tions with the Emergency Government, the Armed Forces High Command and, pos-
sibly, the political parties (or what remains of the KNIP Working Committee)
can negotiations on a cease-fire and a political solution be conducted with
any likelihood of support from the majority of the people and the Armed
Forces.
A "technical note" from the Java Army and Territory Commander has ex-
plained to Djakarta and Bangka that, merely from the technical military
angle, a cease-fire will be extremely difficult, if not impossible, to
implement.137
The delegation's suggestion that the Second Deputy Chief of Staff
of the Armed Forces be allowed to establish "broad contacts" with it
has been rejected on the grounds that, if such communications were
officially established, we would have to settle the cease-fire problem
prior to the government's return to Jogjakarta.
The achievement of the Rum-van Royen Agreement has changed the
situation and the problems involved. Letters sent by the Staff of the
Armed Forces after this agreement contained the following considera-
tions. First, the agreement gambles with the position of the President
and Vice-President, on the one hand, and, on the other, it contains
elements unsatisfactory to major groups. It will consequently create
tensions, and efforts must be made to prevent such tensions from re-
sulting in splits. Second, the agreement has not removed the old
antagonisms, and it has created new ones in addition, for example,
with regard to the fate of regions outside Jogjakarta.
Whether or not a general agreement can be achieved on the basis
of the Rum-van Royen accords depends wholly on Dutch policies and
American actions. Consequently, the possibility of a new outbreak of
war is very great. This implies that it is imperative that we con-
tinue to preserve our strength.
In this connection, we have repeatedly requested our delegation
not to discuss a cease-fire until after the government's return to
Jogjakarta and after consultations with the Armed Forces High Command.
Therefore, it has been impossible to comply with the delegation's re-
quest that "two military experts," i.e., the Second Deputy Chief of
Staff and someone else, be sent to Djakarta. The delegation indicated
in their request that the Dutch wished to impose restrictions on the
wearing of uniforms by officers visiting Djakarta. This provides
another reason for rejecting the request, because accepting such re-
strictions would mean that the status of the Republican Armed Forces
is open to question.
3) Other Communications Links
Among the other communications links established, the most import-
ant have been those with the military observers. These have always
been of an informal nature. On January 19, 1949, the Second Deputy
Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces wrote the first letter to the Mili-
tary Executive Board, noting that:
If international pressure does not compel Dutch military forces to withdraw,
during the coming months the Three-State Commission and its military observ-
ers will witness a life and death struggle between the Dutch military, with
all their modern equipment, and the Indonesian people fighting for their
right to live in freedom, using all their power and the simple means at
their disposal. This will indeed be an irony of history.
Another section of the letter read:
It will not be possible to conduct war only against the TNI. Any attempt to
eliminate the TNI will mean war against the Indonesian nation.
At present, it is not possible to predict the outcome of such a struggle,
for it will be determined by many factors—the extent to which the Indone-
sian people are prepared to make the highest sacrifices for their independ-
ence; how far Asian countries will support the resistance; and by the con-
stantly changing world situation in general.138
A few things will certainly result from such a struggle, however. This
country will be devastated. Political developments among the Indonesian
people will move toward extremism. Dutch interests will no longer have any
place in the independent state of Indonesia which is bound to emerge even-
tually. Perhaps, at this moment, the process has already reached the point
of no return.
And further:
Consequently, I personally consider it a crime that the Dutch attempt to
settle the Indonesian problem by force of arms even though their forces have
proved inadequate to achieve a speedy solution and, as a result, will cause a
long period of confusion and endless suffering for the people.
The letter concluded with a reminder to the Military Executive
Board of Djojobojo's prophecies.
Other letters have frequently been sent as informal communications
in order to provide the military observers with a picture of the general
situation. These military observers turned down an invitation to visit
regions in Java under Republican control.
June 19, 1949
Second Deputy Chief of Staff
of the Armed Forces
(signed)
T. B. Simatupang, ColonelCHAPTER IX
RETURN TO JOGJAKARTA
The fall of Jogjakarta and the capture of our top leaders on
December 19, 1948, certainly constituted a moral blow to our people
and Armed Forces. But, as I myself experienced, within two or three
weeks, our administration and military organization for the people*s
war were already in operation. During this war, as I wandered from
village to village, I never encountered an atmosphere of pessimism,
let alone despair. Everywhere, I heard and felt the positive convic-
tion that, at some favorable moment, the war would end in victory for
our side.
In the course of conversations, I frequently said, jokingly, that
by the standards of lawyers and conventional military maxims, we were
doubtless already considered defeated when our capital city, our large
towns, our head of state, and members of our government were captured
on December 19. Fortunately for us, the majority of our Armed Forces
and our people had never heard the opinions of lawyers and military
experts, and so they continued to fight. It is a good thing that they
were not "experts.”
This was, of course, only a joke. Nonetheless, I think it is true
that our Republic was safeguarded during the people*s war because of
the optimism and militancy of the masses of people and the Armed
Forces, in combination with organizational structures, skills, and
armaments. What was the mainspring of this optimism and militancy?
Did they stem from the nationalist education and propaganda during the
colonial period, the Japanese occupation, and the Proclamation of Inde-
pendence? Was the militancy the legacy of a tradition of people*s
resistance against the Dutch under the leadership of Prince Diponegoro
and other heroes? Was the optimism the legacy of our nation*s history
and tradition, which tells of past defeats and the exile of leaders,
followed by ultimate victory? Airlangga, for instance, fled from his
capital city and lived among ascetics before he finally climbed the
throne of his kingdom. Raden Widjaja once ran from the persecution of
his enemies but later founded the Kingdom of Madjapahit. Gadjah Mada,
while still in the king*s guard, took flight together with the king
before becoming the Patih of Madjapahit. Perhaps the optimism of the
masses and the Armed Forces was also influenced by Djojobojo*s prophe-
cies .
Did our Islamic tradition encourage the conviction that we were
bound to be victorious? I still remember how depressed we first were
when the Renville Agreement was accepted because it stipulated that
our troops, who had waged people*s war behind the so-called Van Mook
Line for some months, had to withdraw to the region now demarcated as
Republican territory. To dispel the depression, we rationalized that
this evacuation would pave the way for victory, because the struggle
would shift from the bullet to the ballot. Who was not convinced that
if the people were asked to choose between the Republic and the Dutch,
we would win? A new slogan was launched: "From the Bullet to the
Ballot.*’ To my mind, this explanation proved less important in
139140
restoring morale than the word Hidjvah. Pak Dirman chose this word to
denote the withdrawal operation because it expressed both the convic-
tion that withdrawal was temporary and the notion that, at a more
favorable time, we would return to these places as victors. One source
of Pak Dirman's greatness was his profound sensitivity, which enabled
him to understand and stir the thinking, feelings, and imagination of
the masses and the soldiers.
After the Rum-van Royen Agreement became a reality, our return to
Jogjakarta remained only a matter of time. Nonetheless, no sense of
relief or enthusiasm existed during those days. Negotiations would
doubtless resume after the withdrawal of Dutch troops from Jogjakarta.
Psychologically, conducting negotiations is far more difficult than
waging people's war. Personally, I had felt as if a heavy burden had
been lifted from my shoulders a few days after the Dutch attack of
December 19, 1948. During the people's war, we felt that we marched
forward together with the current of the people's aspirations and
strength.
Negotiating implied that we would have to find a compromise be-
tween the aspirations of our people, on one side, and the wishes of
the Dutch, on the other. At the same time, we would have to take into
consideration the balance of forces and international factors, particu-
larly the United Nations Commission for Indonesia. During the people's
war, we did not need to consider all of these things. We had only one
aim--to build the most powerful force possible, one capable of inflict-
ing losses on the Dutch, and to attack them using all ways and means.
During a people's war, one feels more healthy physically and more at
ease than during negotiations.
After the evacuation of Jogjakarta by Dutch troops, negotiations
would begin again. But, in the meantime, hatred and suspicion towards
the Dutch had become more profound and widespread. In addition, the
BFO would officially take part in the coming negotiations as a party
on the same level as the Republic. Nevertheless, we could not reject
the Rum-van Royen Agreement which had received the blessings of the
President and Vice-President.
How would the Dutch react to the Rum-van Royen Agreement? Reports
from Djakarta informed us that Dr. Beel had resigned as the representa-
tive of the Dutch Crown because he could not support the agreement.
News from Jogjakarta indicated anxiety among the Dutch troops after
the agreement was announced. It was understandably so. For years,
propaganda had flooded the Dutch military forces to the effect that
everything would be settled once Jogjakarta had been taken and Presi-
dent Sukarno captured. On December 19, Dutch forces had accomplished
both these tasks; now their government had signed an agreement which
would return President Sukarno to Jogjakarta, and Dutch troops would
have to abandon the city. Apparently, activities began among the
troops to impede the return of Jogjakarta. They spread rumors that
the TNI would terrorize the city after Dutch troops left. Some of our
people apparently believed these stories, and they left the city with
the Dutch convoys to go to Semarang or Djakarta.
One day Dr. Hutagalung,1 then working on the staff of Col. Bambang
Dr. Hutagalung was active in the resistance against the British in Surabaja in
1945. In February 1948, he was appointed as an army representative to the Hidjrah
Committee which was responsible for arranging the withdrawal of Republical forces from
Dutch-occupied territory.141
Sugeng, arrived at Banaran out of breath. He had hurried over to bring
important news he had just heard on the radio, namely, that Gen. Spoor
had died in Djakarta. According to general belief, it was Gen. Spoor
who had advised, and even urged, the Dutch government to launch the
first and second attacks on the Republic. Having initially succumbed
to his advice, or pressure, the government was now going to beat a re-
treat, and at this point the General died. Together with him would
also be buried the idea of establishing an Indonesian armed forces by
disbanding the TNI and creating a Dutch-Indonesian Union armed forces.
He had set forth this proposal in a note after the signing of the
Linggadjati Agreement. This note had formed the basis for the propos-
als concerning a gendarmerie made prior to the second Dutch attack,
and also for Sassenfs proposals on the position of Dutch armed forces
during the interim period.
I had not known Gen. Spoor very well. Before the Dutch attack on
Jogjakarta, my counterparts at the negotiations in Djakarta and Kali-
urang had been Gen. Buurman van Vreeden2 and Col. Pereira. Spoor had
served as a captain on the General Staff of the KNIL at the time of
the Japanese attack on the Indies in 1942, and he had managed to leave
Java before the Japanese occupied it. In Australia, he had charge of
NEFIS, the abbreviation for the name of the Netherlands Indies armed
forces1 intelligence service. Even after Spoor became Dutch Commander-
in-Chief in Indonesia, after the Japanese surrender, we continued to
associate him with NEFIS. In general, we believed that NEFIS was very
efficiently organized and extremely dangerous. Whenever serious diffi-
culties arose among us, we always attributed it to NEFIS. Any person
who disliked someone tried to brand that person as a NEFIS agent. One
might regard all of this as evidence that the Dutch intelligence ser-
vice organized by Gen. Spoor had indeed successfully conducted its
"psychological warfare," creating terror and panic among us. But, it
seemed to me that NEFIS generally failed to assess Republican strength
accurately, and as a result Dutch policies were based on an erroneous
evaluation of the situation which existed. Dutch failures to achieve
their political objectives in Indonesia during the first and second
attacks on the Republic, despite considerable sacrifice and expense,
demonstrate the truth of this. Possibly, in evaluating the strengths
and weaknesses of our Republic, Spoor and his NEFIS relied too heavily
on the Republic1s technical and organizational deficiencies in the
military and the administrative fields. Possibly they also failed to
comprehend the historical forces which the Republic represented.
On the eve of the Dutch evacuation of Jogjakarta, Dutch radio
kept warning that security conditions would deteriorate once their
troops had left. The theme of these announcements was:	So far the
Dutch "Tiger Brigade" has maintained security through strenuous efforts,
but what will happen when that Brigade withdraws? The Dutch apparently
still did not understand that the "security problem" was not merely a
matter of numbers of troops. They still did not realize that the more
Dutch troops that were sent to a particular area, the greater the oppo-
sition to them and the more serious the security problem would be.
They still did not comprehend that it was precisely the presence of
Dutch troops that gave rise to the security problem in Jogjakarta. It
had been a peaceful and tranquil area before the invasion by Dutch
troops, and it would be as peaceful and tranquil again after Dutch
troops left.
2
Maj. Gen. Buurman van Vreeden was Chief of Staff of the Dutch forces in the
Indies in the immediate postwar period.142
Sultan Hamengku Buwono had full powers from Bangka to arrange
everything to do with the return of Jogjakarta. Lt. Col. Suharto, the
brigade commander, would command all armed forces in charge of main-
taining security in places in the Jogjakarta region which the Dutch
were evacuating. Col. Djatikusumo, together with the Military Academy
cadets, would assist in this transfer of security responsibilities.
Military observers from the UN Commission for Indonesia would witness
the withdrawal of Dutch troops and the arrival of ours.
During the last days at Banaran, one question remained in connec-
tion with the forthcoming return of our troops to the city--the posi-
tion of Armed Forces members who had not taken part in the people's
war. Should they be considered as having left the Armed Forces, and
perhaps even be prosecuted, as many among us demanded? I thought such
an attitude unfair, for, among those who did not participate in the
fighting, perhaps some had legitimate excuses. But, at the same time,
to accept them just like that and act as though nothing had happened
would be unfair to those who had participated in the people's war.
Consequently, I issued a decision of the Chief of Staff of the Armed
Forces which provided that members of the Armed Forces who had been
non-active during the war should consider themselves suspended, and,
as soon as possible, they should answer for their conduct to a Board
of Honor. If the Board accepted their justifications, the suspension
would be revoked immediately. If the Board rejected their explana-
tions, then it should submit proposals for their punishment. This
decision later served as the basis for the formation of several
Eereraad (Boards of Honor) after the evacuation of Jogjakarta.
The time had now come for us to say goodbye to the people of Bana
ran. In other villages of the Jogjakarta region as well, members of
the Armed Forces, civil servants, and pemuda who had lived among the
villagers for several months now took their leave of their hosts and
returned to the city. Though we were not fully satisfied with the Rum
van Royen Agreement and though it seemed likely that subsequent devel-
opments would have their unsatisfactory aspects, there was still ample
possibility that before long the whole world would recognize the inde-
pendence and sovereignty of the Indonesian state and nation. I won-
dered what would be the fate of these villages in the future Indonesia
the world-wide recognition of whose independence had been achieved
thanks to the people's war which had had its bases in these villages.
Having lived for some months in the village of Banaran, would we in
the future see an advanced and prosperous Banaran?
During the people's war, the Armed Forces, pemuda, and civil
servants from the towns had returned to the villages to exploit the
reserve of strength available in our countryside for the people's war.
In times of peace, just the reverse always happens. Everyone who has
obtained some school education leaves the village to make a better
living in the city and consequently the village remains backward.
Our problem in the future will be how to advance these villages to a
level of progress such that those who are educated can find satisfac-
tion working in a village environment. Some such plan represents the
only way that the townspeople who lived in the village during the
people's war can repay their debt to the villagers.
I am intimately acquainted with life in the huta of Tapanuli and
in the desa of Central Java. Can this style of life be modernized?
The overwhelming majority of our people live in villages. If we sin-
cerely wish to establish a just and prosperous society in Indonesia,143
this implies first of all establishing justice and prosperity in the
villages. Do conditions exist for modernizing our villages? Do we
have concrete ideas for bringing justice and prosperity to our desa
and huta? I frequently asked myself this question while in Banaran.
I also discussed it often with Ali Budiardjo. But, by the time we
left Banaran, I still had not found a satisfactory answer.
Before entering Jogjakarta, we spent the night in the village
where Lt. Col. Suharto had had his headquarters during the last phase
of the people's war. When we arrived, an old woman told us that Pak
Suharto had already left for the city. "Being a distinguished pang-
lima," she said, "he will certainly be rewarded with a beautiful prin-
cess." People in this village still lived in the world of ancient
legends in which a distinguished panglima always married the daughter
of the king.
The Dutch troops withdrew northward from the city on June 29,
1949. Our troops entered from the south. My party entered the city
the following day. Several brand new Landrovers awaited us at the
city limits. On our way to the Kepatihan,3 then the center of all ac-
tivity, the situation of the city and of life there seemed quite normal.
There was a great deal of bustle at the Kepatihan. Journalists,
including some from overseas, were interviewing everyone who had just
returned from outside the city. Military observers from the UN Commis-
sion were moving about. Everyone's attention focused on the Sultan,
who wore a TNI General's uniform.
First we held a press conference, and then I received the mili-
tary observers from the UN Commission. Afterward, a lengthy discus-
sion took place between the Sultan, who had arranged the return of
Jogjakarta very efficiently, Mohammad Natsir, a minister who had been
in Djakarta during the people's war and therefore knew all about the
negotiations there, and Ali Budiardjo and myself, just back from
Banaran.
What would happen next? What problems and possibilities were in
store for us?
First of all, Bung Karno, Bung Hatta, and other leaders would re-
turn from Bangka. Then Sjafrudin would come from the mountain ranges
of Central Sumatra. Pak Dirman himself would be arriving. A con-
sensus would then be sought between the Emergency Government, the
Armed Forces Command, and the returning Bangka leadership. Although
several psychological problems would have to be overcome, there seemed
no other alternative than to accept the policy mapped out in Bangka.
Afterward, a cease-fire would be instituted. From the technical point
of view, many difficulties would arise, but these would probably not
impede efforts to reach a definitive political solution.
In our efforts to achieve a final political settlement, we would
have to begin by forming a common front with the BFO. Though this
3
The Kepatihan was the official quarters of the Papatih Dalem, chief minister
of the Sultanate and, during the Dutch period, the person who actually administered
daily affairs. When the incumbent Papatih died during the Japanese occupation, the
young Sultan Hamengku Buwono IX did not appoint a successor but rather assumed the
Papatih's functions himself, and used the Kepatihan as his office.144
could be understood in logical terms, emotionally it would create prob-
lems among us, because it would imply that we were accepting the BFO
as a partner equal to the Republic. If a common viewpoint could be
achieved with the BFO, then we and they could leave for The Hague to
face the Dutch. The UN Commission for Indonesia, meanwhile, would
assist at the conference in The Hague. It would be there that we
would face the main problem:	Would it prove possible for the Dutch,
on the one side, and the Republic and the BFO, on the other, to reach
an agreement? What would happen in case we became deadlocked in The
Hague? Obviously, we could not stay there too long, for the situation
in Indonesia following the cease-fire would remain explosive. If nego-
tiations in The Hague resulted in deadlock, would it be possible to
return to Indonesia and continue the people’s war? This was one of
the weaknesses of the approach outlined by Bangka and Djakarta. Offi-
cially, we would adhere to our principle of nnegotiations while on the
alert for war," but whenever a problem arose in the Hague negotiations,
the UN Commission for Indonesia would represent an influential force
for settlement, because it would prove difficult for either us or the
Dutch to resume the war again after we had come to The Hague. What
would the situation be later when the Republic of the United States of
Indonesia had been established? Would we be able to use our Republic,
including its Armed Forces, as a major ’’asset” within the new state?
All these questions and issues were at the core of our discussions that
day in Jogjakarta.
On July 6, 1949, a UN Commission airplane landed at Maguwo bring-
ing Bung Karno, Bung Hatta, and other leaders from Bangka. Coming in
from Maguwo, the motorcade, headed by an open car with Bung Karno and
the Sultan, was feted by a huge crowd thronging the roadside. At the
Palace, a deeply moving reception ceremony took place. Sukarno and
Hatta had been captured by Gen. Spoor’s troops on the morning of Decem-
ber 19, 1948. Now, six and one-half months later, they resumed their
positions as President and Vice-President in Jogjakarta, and Gen. Spoor
rested among his soldiers at the Mentengpulo Cemetery in Djakarta.
Force of arms does not constitute the only factor, nor even the
most important factor, moving history forward.
Now Jogjakarta awaited the arrival of Sjafrudin Prawiranegara and
Panglima Besar Sudirman.
I was also at Maguwo airfield on July 6 to welcome Sukarno and
Hatta. I saw for myself how enthusiastically the people welcomed them
all along the road and at the Palace. Who can deny that the Dwitunggal
was a powerful factor, having an almost ’’magic” nature, during our
revolution? The July 3 Movement and the Madiun Rebellion had demon-
strated how difficult it was to oppose Sukarno and Hatta. The pemuda,
who saw themselves as the pioneers of the Proclamation of August 17,
1945, also knew at that time that, if such a proclamation were issued,
it would have to be signed by Sukarno and Hatta. Bung Sjahrir had
negotiated the Linggadjati Agreement, but would the KNIP have accepted
it without the unconditional support of Sukarno and Hatta? Bung Amir
had conducted the Renville negotiations, but he too realized that he
needed the support of Sukarno and Hatta. Consequently, before reaching
the agreement, he brought Bung Hatta from Bukittinggi by a Three-State
Commission airplane. Now once again the magic power of Sukarno and
Hatta was demonstrated. In spite of their internment by the Dutch,
once it became known that they had given their blessing to the Rum-van
Royen Agreement, the Emergency Government and the Armed Forces High
Command had virtually no other alternative than to accept it.145
Bung Karno and Bung Hatta were born in the early years of this
century. Certainly differences exist between them. Bung Karno is the
product of the Indonesian society of East Java, where, in my experi-
ence, children learn wajang stories before they study Quranic verses,
and where the prijaji neither appreciate nor have any interest in com-
merce. Bung Hatta, on the other hand, comes from the Indonesian com-
munity around Bukittinggi, where religion, commerce, and adat are very
important matters. Bung Karno spent the formative years of his youth
primarily in Surabaja and Bandung, while Bung Hatta went from Djakarta
to the Netherlands.
Despite the differences between the two leaders which resulted
from their different characters and backgrounds, nevertheless, they
were the primary leaders of the mature phase of our national movement
in the 1930's, after it had passed through the Budi Utomo phase, the
Sarekat Islam phase, and the PKI phase. The Dutch had exiled them,
perhaps in the hope that the national movement would produce new, more
moderate leaders. But no sooner had Bung Karno and Bung Hatta returned
to the community after the Japanese defeat of the Dutch than they imme-
diately became the "prime factor" among the people. The era of the Japa-
nese occupation added a new element to our national movement, that is,
the spread of military skills and highly militant attitudes among our
pemuda. But after our Proclamation of Independence, Sukarno-Hatta
continued to be the prime factor in our nation.
If the conflict between us and the Dutch could be definitively
settled as a consequence of the Rum-van Royen Agreement that had been
blessed by Sukarno and Hatta, then our people would face a weighty
task. They would have to establish a New Indonesia which would give
real meaning to the blood and tears shed during the war for independ-
ence. This New Indonesia would be built within the contemporary world
where the ideological and competitive conflict between the forces of
capitalism and communism are reaching their climax, 100 years after
Karl Marx wrote his works at the Royal Museum Library in London.
What would be the role of the Dwitunggal of Sukarno-Hatta in the
next phase?CHAPTER X
PAK DIRMAN ARRIVES
Very early on the morning of July 10, 1949, Pak Hardjo and I left
Jogjakarta for Wonosari in one of the cars which we had received from
Djakarta as part of the agreement returning the Republican government
to Jogjakarta. Pak Hardjo, as the most senior officer then in the
city, and myself, as Deputy Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces, would
together welcome Pak Dirman near Wonosari and accompany him to Jogja-
karta the same day.
Soon after we had arrived at the simple village house where Pak
Dirman would rest briefly before continuing the journey in our car,
his party was spotted on the other side of the river. We could see
Pak Dirman on a litter being carried by a number of men. Others walked
on either side of him. Soon we recognized them:	Suadi,1 commander of
the escort, carrying a rifle; Supardjo,2 Pak Dirman's adjutant; and
other members of the escort, most of them in black uniforms. Lt. Col.
Suharto, commander of the Jogjakarta Brigade, was now also with Pak
Dirman1s party.
A large number of villagers from nearby places had lined up to-
gether with us to await Pak Dirman1s arrival. As the party came near-
er, we heard someone explaining to his child that it was the Gusti
Tentara [Lord Soldier].
After the litter had been put on the ground, Pak Dirman stood up
and we embraced wordlessly. Then we had a short conversation inside
the house where we had been waiting for him. Our host served tea. Pak
Dirman1s face radiated his strength of will. I could see, though I am
not a doctor, that his immense strength of will had been the sole
source of strength for the Panglima Besar in the past months when he
had only one lung. The life of Pak Dirman symbolizes the victory of a
strong spirit over a weak and sickly body. It is said that nothing
new happens under the sun. But as a student of history, I knew no
^Suadi Suromihardjo was an important figure in the seizure of weapons from the
Japanese in Surakarta in the fall of 1945. He served as a regimental commander in
the Tenth Division under Purbonegoro and later under Sutarto. When the division was
reorganized as the Fourth Division (Senopati) in 1946, he commanded the Twenty-Sixth
Regiment (Surakarta), one of the two strongest in the division. He was active on the
Central Java front and was a member of the military delegation to the Linggadjati
talks. After the May 1948 rationalization, he became Commander of the Fifth Brigade
under Sutarto and succeeded the latter after his murder in July. He was temporarily
in disfavor because of his role in the prologue to the Madiun Affair, but he was re-
stored to command in the second action, being placed initially in charge of Wehr-
kreise II (Madiun) under Gatot Subroto. After his replacement by Sukowati, he became
commander of Sudirman’s escort.
2
Supardjo was born in Sukaradja, Central Java, in 1926. He received military
training under the Japanese. In 1946, he commanded a platoon in the Fifth Division
and served as ADC to the division commander. In March 1948, he became ADC to
Sudirman.
146147
story which resembled Pak Dirman's experiences during the past months--
the story of a general leading a war of independence from a litter.
A general's attire could have been made ready at this place in
advance, so that Pak Dirman could enter the capital city in full uni-
form. But he wanted to be dressed on this occasion in the clothes he
had worn throughout the people's war, the simple clothes of an ordinary
villager, with a thick army overcoat on top of them. This showed the
greatness of his spirit and his honest attitude toward history. In
this condition and these clothes, he had led the people's war, and this
was how he was going to show himself to the people in the capital and
the world. This demonstrated also a profound understanding of the
psychology of the people. Pak Dirman entering the city on this day in
his uniform as Panglima Besar of the people's war would live forever
in the hearts and imaginations of our people as a symbol of our war
for independence.
I first became acquainted with Pak Dirman at the end of October
1945. He was then Division Commander in Purwokerto, and I visited him
as an emissary from Headquarters (or, in the terminology of the time,
Supreme Headquarters). At that time, Supreme Headquarters had only
just been set up, though BKR (People's Security Organization) units
had already been formed earlier in the regions. On October 5, 1945,
these units were converted into the TKR (People's Security Army). The
government, still seated in Djakarta, called on Pak Urip, a retired
major of the KNIL who lived not far from Jogjakarta, to organize the
TKR. The government appointed him as Chief of the General Staff and
gave him a mandate to carry out this task. He chose Jogjakarta as the
seat for his headquarters and immediately left Djakarta. The confusion
of the times can be imagined from the long interrogation which pemuda
at the Tegal railway station gave Pak Urip, Chief of the General Staff,
before permitting him to continue his journey to Jogjakarta.
Sasra and myself arrived there from Bandung a few days after Pak
Urip. At that time, Pak Urip still had his headquarters in Room 23 of
the Hotel Merdeka. Machmud, who had come from Djakarta with Pak Urip,
went with me to look for a suitable place to serve as headquarters.
Soon afterward, Supreme Headquarters moved from Room 23 to a complex
of buildings near the intersection of Gondokusuman and Terban-Taman-
Djalan Widoro. These premises at present serve as the regimental head-
quarters for Jogjakarta.
Pak Urip had been appointed the Chief of the General Staff. A
Panglima Besar had also been appointed, namely, Suprijadi,3 a Peta
officer who had led the Blitar uprising towards the end of the Japanese
occupation. Some said that Suprijadi had been killed by the Japanese,
but many more believed that he was still alive and that he would cer-
tainly reappear when the time was right. There were even stories that
he was leading the fighting in various places, ranging from West to
East Java.
From the very outset, the front room of Supreme Headquarters, to
the left as one entered, had been reserved for Panglima Besar Supri-
jadi, who was never seen there. The room remained empty all the time.
3
Suprijadi led the Peta mutiny in Blitar, East Java, in February 1945. His
appointment as Minister of Defense of the Republican Army on October 5, 1945, was
based on the reputation he had acquired as a consequence of the Peta revolt.148
Even when other staffs and offices at Supreme Headquarters needed more
space, this room was not used until Pak Dirman was appointed Panglima
Besar.
As already mentioned, arms had been seized from the Japanese in
the regions where BKR units had been formed before the establishment
of Supreme Headquarters. After Supreme Headquarters was set up, these
units were reorganized in line with its instructions. Some of the
regions had large quantities of arms and ammunition at their disposal
because they had succeeded in seizing the Japanese munitions which
happened to be stored there. In Java, such "rich" regions were Malang
and Purwokerto. At the same time, some regions were "poor," that is,
either they had not succeeded in seizing stores of arms and ammunition
from the Japanese at the beginning, or their areas had never had such
stores in any quantity. These poor regions were soon engaged in the
fight against the British and the Dutch, and they applied to Supreme
Headquarters for arms and ammunition. Supreme Headquarters could only
send emissaries to the rich regions to try to persuade them to give
part of their own supplies to the regions which badly needed them.
During the early days of Supreme Headquarters, I frequently
visited rich regions, such as Malang and Purwokerto, to ask for part
of their supply of arms and ammunition for poor regions, such as Dja-
karta and Bandung, which needed them desperately. Each time we met, I
could always expect Pak Dirman, the Division Commander in Purwokerto,
to give willingly as much help as possible. At such meetings, Pak
Dirman was usually assisted by his adjutant, Abimanju. Compared with
troops in many other regions at that time, the Purwokerto Division had
managed to establish good discipline from the start. Since the time
of the Dutch, the Banjumas region had been a prime recruiting area for
KNIL soldiers, so perhaps the military tradition was already deeply
rooted among its population.
I next met Pak Dirman on a unique, historic occasion:	the "elec-
tion" of the Panglima Besar in early December 1945. Senior officers
from Supreme Headquarters, division and regiment commanders from all
over Java, and several officers who claimed to represent the army in
Sumatra assembled in the Supreme Headquarters conference room. The
Sultan and the Pakualam, both honorary officers, also attended. The
main item on the agenda was the "election" of a Panglima Besar.
Panglima Besar Suprijadi had not appeared, and the military in-
creasingly felt that a Panglima Besar capable of actively leading the
army should be appointed. The name Suprijadi was wrapped in mystery,
and, though this might have been useful at the beginning when the army
was first formed, it was now felt that mystery alone was not enough.
Following repeated ballotting and a cooling-off period (the atmosphere
had at times become tense), Pak Dirman was eventually declared "elected"
as Panglima Besar and Pak Urip as Chief of the General Staff. The
choice of Pak Dirman reflected his high prestige among the military at
that time. This was due, among other things, to the expulsion of
British troops from Ambarawa [Central Java] by troops under Sudirman's
command some time before the "election."
The meeting did not only "elect" a Panglima Besar and a Chief of
the General Staff. In an atmosphere of deep sincerity, votes were also
cast to "elect" a Minister of Defense. At the first ballot, the Sultan
had clearly won an absolute majority of the votes.149
The results of this "election" were submitted to the government,
then under the leadership of Bung Sjahrir. The cabinet seemed to com-
prehend that, under the prevailing circumstances, the army's "election"
of the Panglima Besar and Chief of the General Staff must be accepted
as a reflection of the atmosphere existing within this very youthful
military. On December 18, 1945, the President appointed Pak Dirman as
Panglima Besar and redesignated Pak Urip as Chief of the General Staff.
The cabinet of the time, however, apparently considered the appointment
of a Minister of Defense by military "election" as going a bit too far.
At the time of the Dutch attack of December 19, 1948, Pak Dirman
had already occupied the post of Panglima Besar for three years and
one day. They were years full of turbulence and trial for our Republic.
At first, we were fighting battles with the Dutch and the British,
while carrying out internal consolidations, such as that conducted by
the Plenary Committee for the Reorganization of the Army. Subsequently,
we faced the negotiations which resulted in the Linggadjati Agreement,
which in its turn gave rise to bitter antagonisms within our own ranks.
Afterward, we experienced difficulties in implementing this agreement.
At this time, Pak Dirman submitted a complete set of proposals regard-
ing the possibility of a Dutch attack, an analysis known as the Pang-
lima Besar's Note. During this same period, Spoor's Note was circulat-
ing among the Dutch. Subsequently, the first Dutch attack occurred on
July 21, 1947.
After this, negotiations were conducted with the assistance of
the Three-State Commission. These ended in the Renville Agreement
which in turn was followed by violent conflicts within our ranks cul-
minating in the Madiun rebellion. Several reorganizations were car-
ried out within the Armed Forces during those years, but Pak Dirman
remained the central figure in the development of our Armed Forces
throughout.
Supreme Headquarters had been formed at the beginning without
regard to the fact that a Ministry of Defense would eventually be set
up. No such Ministry existed at the time, only a Ministry of Security
located in Djakarta. On January 4, 1946, this ministry was transferred
to Jogjakarta and only on January 7, was the name Ministry of Defense
introduced. That same day, it was also decided to change the name of
the Tentara Keamanan Rakjat [People's Security Army] to Tentara Kesela-
matan Rakjat [People's Preservation Army]. But afterwards it was gen-
erally thought that this name was too close to the Bala Keselamatan
Rakjat [Salvation Army], and consequently, on January 26, 1946, another
name was introduced, the Tentara Republik Indonesia [Army of the Repub-
lic of Indonesia], abbreviated as the TRI. On that day also, the
Plenary Committee for the Reorganization of the Army was set up and
charged, among other things, with regulating the relationship between
the Ministry of Defense and the Army High Command. I served on this
committee.
The new organization of the army only became effective on May 25,
1946. Pak Dirman, who continued as Panglima Besar under the new for-
mat, declared in his oath:	"I shall be faithful and loyal to the gov-
ernment of the Republic of Indonesia which executes its duties in
accordance with the Constitution of the Republic of Indonesia and which
unswervingly defends its independence." The next step within the
framework of the reorganization was the merging of the TRI and the
lasgkar [irregular troops] to create the Tentara Nasional Indonesia
[Indonesian National Army], abbreviated as TNI. The TNI High Command150
was inaugurated on June 28, 1947. Pak Dirman remained as the Panglima
Besar.
The qualities needed to command an armed force such as ours,
which was first created regionally and was composed of men with vari-
ous educational and social backgrounds, in a situation full of turmoil
and conflict, differ from those needed to command armed forces which
are already organized in an orderly manner and during a period of calm.
Each era determines certain roles for the characters on its historical
stage. If the role is played by a person whose qualities are commen-
surate to the part, then history records him as a great leader. But
if no one suitable for the role emerges, or if the role is seized by
someone whose qualities are not equal to it, then history notes that a
generation failed to solve the problems thrust upon it. Pak Dirman
successfully led our Armed Forces through an epoch of trial and turmoil
until the whole world recognized our sovereignty and independence.
This proved his greatness, that is, that he possessed the qualities
required by the role which history had cast for a Panglima Besar in
our country at that time.
Pak Dirman was born in Banjumas and was educated in private Muham-
madijah schools. The Muhammadijah reflected both our national awaken-
ing and, at the time, rejuvenation in Islam. He served as a teacher
and boy scout leader at these same schools. During his childhood, he
experienced sorrow and hardship; perhaps it was the memory of these
which was reflected on Pak Dirman's sincere and modest face. During
the Japanese occupation, he was a Peta officer and highly respected by
his comrades.
Pak Dirman usually delegated to Pak Urip the technical military
problems which the Military Command faced after the Proclamation of
Independence. Pak Dirman's greatest service was his ability to keep
all groups in the Armed Forces together in those days, without making
the leadership something empty or vague. Under the circumstances
existing then, meetings had frequently to be held to harmonize the
numerous conflicting attitudes and viewpoints current among the mili-
tary on key questions. When opening or closing these sessions, or
whenever a decision was reached, Pak Dirman always stated earnestly:
"Today on the ... (date) of ... (month), ... (year), at ... minutes
past ... hours, I declare the meeting open, closed, or the following
decision taken." Consequently, a sense of punctuality and an orderly
atmosphere always reigned at meetings over which he presided. He gen-
erally permitted everyone who wished to speak to present his views as
fully as he wished. Only after everyone felt that he had had his say
would Pak Dirman state that, having heard and considered all view-
points, he, as commander, declared:	"I hereby decide this, or that,
on the ... (date) at ... hours." Such a method of operating, of
course, required a great deal of Pak Dirman's energy.
The problems facing him by virtue of his position were also a
source of constant mental tension, and he could never free himself
from them for a moment. He grew increasingly thin, and one day the
doctors diagnosed that he had tuberculosis. Even so, he could not
bring himself to relinquish his duties and responsibilities. His ac-
tivities for the cause of Indonesia's independence aggravated his ill-
health more and more. Rarely have I met a person with Pak Dirman's
great sense of responsibility. A couple of times, we had our differ-
ences of opinion, but, generally speaking, I had to admit in the end
that his viewpoint was wiser and more appropriate--though sometimes
mine was better in a purely rational sense.151
On December 18, 1948, exactly three years after Pak Dirman’s ap-
pointment as Panglima Besar, I visited him at his sickbed to report
that the situation had become critical. That very day, he issued an
official statement announcing that he had resumed command of the Armed
Forces. The following day the Dutch attacked Jogjakarta. After Decem-
ber 19, he had wandered through Central and East Java, while leading
our war of independence. Today, on July 10, 1949, he was about to re-
turn to Jogjakarta.
What had Pak Dirman experienced during the people!s war? Before
continuing my own story, I would like to insert here some notes by a
man who wrote of himself:	"I knew and experienced myself everything
which Pak Dirman went through during that period.*’ The author of these
words was none other than Capt. Supardjo, Pak Dirman’s adjutant. His
account now follows.
December 183 1948. Gen. Sudirman is very ill. For three months he has
been unable to get out of bed. Today he feels that war with the Dutch is
inevitable.
December 19, 1948.	5:30 a.m. Gen. Sudirman received a report that the
Dutch had launched an attack. He had already been asked by his staff to
leave Jogjakarta a couple of days earlier, both as a tactical move and for
the sake of his health. Completely equipped headquarters had been prepared
for him in the event of a second military action. But he said he would
leave the city only after the first enemy bomb had been dropped. He believed
that to abandon the city before this happened would be tantamount to running
away.
When he received the report that the Dutch had already begun their at-
tack, it was as though he gained renewed strength. For the first time, after
being bed-ridden for three months, he could stand up unassisted. At 8:00
a.m., Panglima Besar Sudirman sent Capt. Supardjo to see President Sukarno
in order to obtain the central government’s instructions and also, if neces-
sary, to discuss other matters. At the same, Commodore Suriadarma came to
report to the President on the situation at Maguwo.
President Sukarno was still in his pajamas. While Capt. Supardjo was at
the Presidential Palace, many ministers and high ranking civilian and mili-
tary personnel arrived, among them Col. Simatupang. Consequently, Capt.
Supardjo could not immediately return to Panglima Besar Sudirman.
At 9:00 a.m., the latter was no longer content to await the Captain’s
return. Wearing a black overcoat over his pajamas, Pak Dirman, accompanied
by Dr. Suwondo, Capt. Tjokropranolo, etc., went to see the President. Sev-
eral ministers and leaders had already arrived at the Palace, among them,
Sultan Hamengku Buwono IX, Ir. Djuanda, Sutan Sjahrir, Dr. Asikin. Bung
Karno told Pak Dirman, "Nothing important is happening. You are ill, so
please go home and rest." Then the President said to Dr. Suwondo, "Mas
doctor, would you mind taking Mas Dirman home to rest and please take good
care of him."
Twice Bung Karno advised Pak Dirman to rest. The first time, he replied,
"Thank you, but later." The second time, he answered, "I don’t want to. I
am going to stay here." Prof. Dr. Asikin then asked if he would like to rest
at the Palace, in which case a room would be prepared. Pak Dirman answered,
"I want to say here."
4
Dr. R. D. Asikin Widjajakusumah was born in Tasikmalaja, West Java, in 1891.
He received his medical degree from Leiden University in 1925. He was one of the
best known doctors of his generation. During the Japanese occupation, he was a pro-
fessor on the Djakarta Medical Faculty.152
After most of the ministers had arrived, they held a cabinet meeting.
Pak Dirman remained outside the meeting room. Meanwhile, Dutch aircraft
were flying around, bombing and strafing various places in the city. Under
the circumstances, Dr. Suwondo thought it likely the Presidential Palace
would also soon come under attack from the air and that, therefore, those
inside were in danger. He advised Pak Dirman to leave. Pak Dirman followed
this suggestion.
While trying to find a place for Pak Dirman, we learned that quarters
within the walls of the kraton complex had already been reserved for the
families of state leaders. Dr. Suwondo was told to see Sultan Hamengku
Buwono IX, then participating in the cabinet session, to get permission for
Pak Dirman to occupy the Mangkubumen building at Kadipaten, Jogjakarta. Per-
mission was granted and Dr. Suwondo was told to make the place ready.
Having done this, Dr. Suwondo returned to the Presidential Palace to re-
port. During his absence, Pak Dirman had instructed Capt. Supardjo to issue
an urgent order to the entire Republican Armed Forces over Radio Republik
Indonesia. Pak Dirman and his retinue returned to his house at Bintaran.
He refused to rest there. He stood in the front part of the house watching
the Dutch aircraft circling over the city and bombing various areas. Before
long, the old Vredenburg Fort opposite the Presidential Palace was attacked.
Dr. Suwondo urged Pak Dirman to leave his house immediately because the
Dutch surely knew where it was and it was not impossible that they would
attack it. After first burning documents to prevent them from falling into
enemy hands, Pak Dirman left, at about 11:30 a.m., for Kadipaten, via Binta-
ran, Mergangsan, Tungkak, Gading, the Alun-Alun Kidul, and Ngasem. He then
rested for about an hour. At approximately 2:00 p.m., Col. Abdul Latif,
City Military Commander for Jogjakarta, arrived at Kadipaten. He reported
that the Dutch had already entered the city and that Pak Dirman should leave
if he did not want to be captured.
In a very weak physical condition because he had not eaten or drunk any-
thing since morning but impelled by the force of his will, Pak Dirman left
the city and his family. He planned to go to Imogiri through Bantul, but
this proved impossible because of the numerous road blocks. At 6:00 p.m.,
he arrived in Kretek, twenty kilometers south of Jogjakarta. Dr. Suwondo
examined him, but his condition had not worsened, though he was weak from
lack of food and drink. He was able to rest here for several hours. Only
at 11:00 p.m. did he finally eat.
Panglima Besar Sudirman ordered two men to enter the city and ask Bu
Dirman for jewelry to finance him during the guerrilla war. At 10:00 p.m.,
Lt. Basuki arrived from Jogjakarta along with an additional escort.
At midnight, Pak Dirman1s party crossed the Opak River, with the aid of
the Kretek sub-district chief, and headed for the village of Grogol. There
they spent the night in the house of the lurah. Capt. Supardjo, Herukeser
and Sgt. Maj. Utojo Kolopaking went straight on to Wonosari to arrange quar-
ters for the party there and to establish contact with Col. Gatot Subroto's
staff.
December 201948. Pak Dirman was carried on a litter from Grogol to
Panggang and then to Palihan. That same day, Utojo Kolopaking arrived from
Wonosari to report on his arrangements.
December 213 1948. Pak Dirman did not fall asleep until 1:00 a.m. The
next day, he left Palihan for Plajen by litter, a two-hour march. Then he
went from Plajen to the village of Semanu by dogcart. Pak Dirman*s litter
was left behind at Plajen. This was not the only litter used to carry him.
It would be impossible to count how many times a change of litter had taken
place. If somewhere the journey was continued by car, then the litter was153
left behind. If no car or dogcart was available, or if it was impossible to
make the journey by vehicle, then a new litter had to be made.
December 22 ^ 1948. Left Semanu for Pratjimantoro, to the south of Sura-
karta, again on a litter. Arrived at Pratjimantoro at 7:00 p.m. Along the
way at Bedojo, the people thought the person on the litter was Sultan Hameng-
ku Buwono IX. Many came to kiss Pak Dirman!s feet and ask his blessing.
That night, the Divisional Staff of Col. Gatot Subroto sent a car from Sura-
karta to fetch Pak Dirman, and, without wasting any time, they left for
Wonogiri. He arrived there at 11:00 p.m. and spent the night. But none of
the party could rest because by then the enemy had reached Sukohardjo, six-
teen kilometers north of Wonogiri. The escort was ordered to get ready and
remain on the alert. Through all of this, Pak Dirman remained calm and never
forgot to say his prayers, despite the fact that he was sitting or lying down.
December 23 9 1948. At dawn everybody was prepared to leave Wonogiri.
Left for Ponorogo at exactly 6:00 a.m. Within half an hour, Wonogiri was
attacked from the air. The enemy no doubt believed that Pak Dirman was still
there. The party arrived that same day in Ponorogo and rested at the house
of Kjai Mahfudz, in the hamlet of Djetis south of Ponorogo. At 4:00 p.m.,
the party continued by car heading for Bendo, southeast of Tulungagung, via
Trenggalek. Stopped for a while at Trenggalek. Capt. Supardjo got in touch
with Col. Sungkono in Kediri, asking him to meet Pak Dirman*s party. (It
should be noted here, that after leaving the city, Pak Dirman had assumed
the name of "Pak De.")5 After a long fruitless wait, the party continued on
to Bendo, about 24 kilometers from Tulungagung.
December 23 > 1948. At Bendo, the party was detained by Battalion 102
under Maj. Zainal Fanani. Capt. Supardjo, in his capacity as leader of the
party, was taken to battalion headquarters. Pak Dirman, who was in the car,
and the others waited outside. The escort was not disarmed.
Everywhere, in those days, an atmosphere of mutual distrust often arose.
Among the military, such suspicions emerged particularly when two units met.
At the battalion headquarters, Capt. Supardjo did not himself meet the Bat-
talion Commander, only some officers he did not know. They said it was
difficult for prisoners to see the Commander.
Capt. Supardjo was searched. They found on him a notebook full of de-
fense sketches and other notes concerning military matters. This was not
unusual, because he was Panglima Besar Sudirman*s adjutant and doubled as
his private secretary. For the moment, protest was ineffectual; Capt. Supar-
djo almost revealed the name of the man he was escorting. Fortunately, one
of the officers said he would ask the Battalion Commander to come. Mean-
while, Panglima Besar Sudirman did not know that at battalion headquarters
the Supardjo case had not yet been decided.
As it was already sunset, Pak Dirman asked permission to go to the mosque
for Magrib prayers. Permission was granted and he was taken to a mosque not
far from battalion headquarters.
Before long, Battalion Commander Zainal Fanani came along to see who the
prisoner was. As he was about to enter the mosque, he met Harsono Tjokro-
aminoto,6 who was just leaving after prayers, and asked where the prisoner
^Pak De is a Javanese form of polite address to an elder brother of a parent.
^R. M. Harsono Tjokroaminoto was born in Magetan, East Java, in 1912. He was
the son of H. 0. S. Tjokroaminoto and the younger brother of Anwar Tjokroaminoto.
Before the war, he was active in his father*s political party, the PSII. He became
general-secretary of the Djakarta branch of the MIAI Islamic federation and the155
was. Not revealing the identity of the prisoner, Harsono said he was inside
the mosque. Zainal Fanani went in and came up to the prisoner. He was
astonished when he saw it was Panglima Besar Sudirman. He immediately
saluted, deeply moved. Instantly Pak Dirman was transferred to an appro-
priate place.
All the troops, including the officers, wondered why the Battalion Com-
mander saluted the prisoner--a man dressed in civilian clothes, wearing an
old pitji, a green overcoat, and a pair of slippers. They were astonished
on hearing that the prisoner was the Panglima Besar traveling incognito.
That evening a number of men were sent to Tulungagung to try to telephone
Kediri. A few hours later, a car arrived from Kediri to fetch Pak Dirman.
Some of Col. Sungkono*s staff officers came to collect the party, and it set
off. Arrived in Kediri at 4:00 a.m. and was welcomed by Col. Sungkono.
December 24 ^ 1948. In the morning, Pak Dirman conferred with Col. Sung-
kono. Then he rested briefly. At 5:00 p.m., Capt. Supardjo asked him to
leave Kediri. He agreed, and, at sunset, he went to the west bank of the
Brantas River to the village of Sukorame. Maj. Tjiptoharsono and Col. San-
toso, who were then in Kediri, escorted him. That night, Pak Dirman was
able to rest.
Deoember 253 1948• At 8:00 a.m., the enemy attacked Kediri by air.
Feeling unsafe at Sukorame, Pak Dirman and his party left and moved on to
Karangnongko, where they rested until nightfall. That night, someone came
to Pak Dirman*s quarters pretending to be looking for the Panglima Besar.
The man was suspected of being an enemy spy.
At 5:00 a.m., Pak Dirman left his quarters and, along with Col. Bambang
Supeno, went into the forest. Capt. Supardjo and a few others stayed in the
house.
December 26 j 1948. After sunrise, Capt. Supardjo ordered Warrant Officer
Herukeser, who was built like Pak Dirman, to put on the green overcoat which
Pak Dirman always wore. Subsequently, while many people looked on, Pak Dir-
man*s double was carried southward on a litter and taken into a house. The
purpose of the disguise was to deceive the spy, who had claimed the night
before to be looking for the Panglima Besar, and to make him think that Pak
Dirman had been moved to another house. Once inside, Herukeser took off the
overcoat and, after making certain that no one was watching, left the house.
Unnoticed by anyone, Capt. Supardjo and Warrant Officer Herukeser followed
Pak Dirman north.
Late in the afternoon that same day, the house where Warrant Officer
Herukeser had left the green overcoat was strafed by three Dutch fighters
armed with machineguns.
December 27> 1948. Left Karangnongko and moved to the village of Guwo
Liman on the slope of Mount Wilis. Pak Dirman sent Col. Bambang Supeno to
make contact with the Central Government in Java, reportedly located on Mount
Lawu. Shortly after the latter had left, Col. Sungkono came to see Pak Dir-
man.
December 28, 1948. Moved from Guwo to the village of Badjulan. Stayed
there until January 6, 1949. During this period, tried to find a radio
transmitter in the area around Ngandjuk. One was found and consequently
editor of its journal, Suara MIAI. During the Japanese occupation, he worked on the
staff of the Domei news agency. He was one of the activist pemuda leaders in Dja-
karta at the time of the Proclamation of Independence. In the fall of 1945, he
joined the Masjumi. He served as Deputy Minister of Defense in the third Sjahrir
cabinet.156
communications with other regions could be established and news from overseas
received. Only then did it become known that Indian Prime Minister Pandit
Jawaharlal Nehru had invited representatives of Asian countries to hold a
conference on Indonesia in New Delhi. The situation at home and abroad be-
came more or less clear. Meanwhile, another company of our troops arrived
from Jogjakarta to help guard Panglima Besar Sudirman.
January 69 1949. Left Badjulan and moved to the village of Salamdjudek.
Stayed there briefly, spent only one night.
January 7, 1949. Left Salamdjudek and went to the village of Liman.
Capt. Supardjo was sent to make contact with the village of Sawahan, where
Dr. Murdjani and others had their quarters.
January 8> 1949. Left Liman and headed for the village of Serang, on
the top of Mount Wilis. Did not stop there long, continued to the village
of Djambu. All the time Pak Dirman was carried on a litter.
January 9, 1949. The march to Djambu took a rather long time. Arrived
there only today. At the same time, the Dutch attacked from Ponorogo in the
direction of Pulung, seat of the Ponorogo Regency administration. In the
afternoon, Capt. Supardjo was sent to make contact with the ministers of the
Central Government in Java. He met Minister of Development and Youth Supeno,
Minister of Justice Mr. Susanto Tirtoprodjo, and KNIP Working Committee mem-
ber Miss Susilowati at the village of Wajang, north of Pulung.
January 103 1949. After Capt. Supardjo returned to Djambu and reported
on his meeting with the members of the Central Government in Java, Pak Dirman
and party moved to Wajang. That same day, Col. Bambang Supeno, who had been
sent to make contact with the Central Government in Java on December 27,
also returned.
January 11^ 1949. From Wajang moved again, to the village of Banjutowo.
January 123 1949. Pak Dirman met Ministers Supeno and Susanto at the
house of Pak Ngali. At 9:00 a.m., a conference was held between Ministers
Supeno and Susanto, Col. Bambang Supeno, and Capt. Supardjo. This was the
last meeting between Pak Dirman and Minister Supeno. For several days after-
ward, many visitors from various towns and regions came to see Pak Dirman.
Stayed at Banjutowo until January 17.
January 17 > 1949. A Dutch patrol from Ponorogo came to within one kilom-
eter of Pak Dirman*s quarters. Fighting took place between the patrol and
our troops. Five of our men were wounded. During the fighting, Pak Dirman,
the ministers, and the Regent of Ponorogo, along with their respective par-
ties, left their quarters and headed into the forest to the village of Sedaju.
January 18, 1949. At 2:00 p.m., our patrol met a Dutch unit heading for
Sedaju. There was no way of knowing whether the Dutch knew Pak Dirman was
there. Fighting broke out. That night the Dutch captured the Regent of
Ponorogo. During the battle, Pak Dirman and his party climbed up a mountain
on foot. That night, the Dutch searched for Pak Dirman around Sedaju, using
torches.
January 20j 1949. The Dutch continued their search at Sedaju. This in-
dicated that they had in fact known that Pak Dirman was near Sedaju and were
trying to capture him. They searched each house in the Sedaju area. For-
tunately, they overlooked the one which had been occupied by Pak Dirman.
Capt. Supardjo was there at the time. Had the Dutch entered the house, they
would have found him as well as Pak Dirman*s baggage and clothes. At 10:00
a.m., they left Sedaju but did not go far. They remained at the villages of
Kesugihan and Singgahan. All the while the Dutch were searching Sedaju, Pak
Dirman was resting in a rattan forest. Before long, the escort which had
fought the Dutch the day before returned and met Pak Dirman in the forest.157
January 21, 1949. The enemy encircled the forest. Several men were dis-
patched to seek a way out through the encirclement. Heavy rain fell that
night. In the midst of the rain, Pak Dirman and his party left their place
and came down the mountain and through the encirclement. The soil was too
slippery to carry Pak Dirman on a litter or to support him while he walked
in the rain. Consequently, he had to walk under his own power. When the
effort proved too great, Dr. Suwondo and Capt. Supardjo would pull or push
him. It was on this occasion that his health went from bad to worse. For
one and one-half hours, he and his party walked in the heavy rain. During
this journey, he asked the party several times to stop for a rest. He was
exhausted from undernourishment. Since January 17, he had eaten no rice,
only jackfruit and vegetables.
The entire supply of medicine was rainsoaked and damaged. In this miser-
able condition, the party came to a small house. Here a fire was made to
warm everybody up. Because it was believed unsafe there, the break was very
brief and the march continued until the party reached a hut in the middle of
a cornfield. Here they spent a few days.
January 22, 1949. Pak Dirman and his party had not eaten rice for five
days. Capt. Supardjo was sent out to find some. He took along a sarong and
a shirt which he bartered for three kilos of corn and a chicken. These fed
ten people.
January 23, 1949. After his early morning prayers, Pak Dirman came out-
side the hut. There he met a man named Karijo and two others, Pak Surang
and Pak Wirjo. These three asked permission to join Pak Dirman*s party,
wherever it might go. Without hesitation Pak Dirman agreed.
January 24, 1949. Ready to leave early in the morning. Left Djambu for
the village of Warungbung. On the march, Pak Dirman was again carried on a
litter. Arrived at Warungbung late in the morning. Received a rice meal,
for the second time in a week. Continued the journey to the village of
Gunung Tukul that same day, guided by the naib [mosque official] of Warung-
bung.
January 25, 1949. Arrived at Gunung Tukul in the morning. Did not stop
there. In the afternoon, rested a bit in a house. During this break, a man
called Putih came and offered to join the party. Request granted. Putih
became a guide. Journey continued to the village of Ngindong. Arrived at
3:00 a.m. Pak Dirman and party rested there. During the stay, they were
well looked after by the people.
January 27, 1949. Left Ngindong for the village of Sawo. Added another
guide, the village chief of Ngindong. Passed through Sawo and went on to the
village of Tumpakpelem. On arrival there, stopped for the night. That
night, Capt. Supardjo tried to make contact with the District Military Com-
mand of Trenggalek.
January 28, 1949. Left Tumpakpelem and headed for the village of Longsor,
about five kilometers away. Pak Dirman and party spent one night there.
From that day onward, the party got good food. At that time, Trenggalek was
still in our hands and some vehicles were still available.
January 29, 1949. Moved on from Longsor to the village of Suruhwetan.
Spent one night there.
January 30, 1949. The party left Suruhwetan by car and went to the vil-
lage of Dongko on the south coast.
January 31, 1949. Resumed journey in the direction of the village of
Panggul. Did not spend the night there. Left during the night for the vil-
lage of Bedak, north of Panggul. Stayed at Bedak until February 3, 1949.158
February 43 1949. Left Bedak and continued on to the village of Nogosari
in the Patjitan region. Aided by the lurah and the people there. The lurah
knew the person on the litter. The lurah was the uncle of Mr. Iskandar
Gondowardojo7 (currently Regent of Ngandjuk); his name was Padmowidjojo.
Utmost courtesy was also rendered by R. M. Subekti, ex-Regent of Patjitan,
currently Mayor of Solo.
During the journey, Capt. Supardjo constantly dispatched his men to in-
form District Military Commands regarding the party whereabouts. Enjoyed
good care at Nogosari. Pak Dirman and party stayed there until February 6,
1949.
February 7j 1949. Left Nogosari and continued to the village of Pringa-
pus. Arrived safely and stayed until February 14. During this stay things
became more organized. Tasks and plans could be carried out better.
February £, 1949. Dispatched several men to Jogjakarta, including:	Har-
sono Tjokroaminoto, to gather political information; Lt. Basuki and Dr. Su-
wondo, to get medicine; and Capt. Tjokropranolo to visit the Sultan.
The entire armed troop was dispersed; only five men remained with Pak
Dirman. They included Capt. Supardjo, Warrant Officer Herukeser, Cadet Sgt.
Maj. Utojo Kolopaking, Sgt. Bambang Sumadio and Kaki Kasmi (alias Moh. Junus)
chauffeur of the former Indian Vice-Consul, who had all this time been accom-
panying the Panglima Besar. The Dutch captured the men sent to Jogjakarta,
except Dr. Suwondo and Capt. Tjokropranolo. After that day, Pak Dirman's
code name, which had formerly been Pak De, was changed to Abdullah Lelono-
putro.
February 15s 1949. Moved on from Pringapus to the village of Gebjur,
still in the Patjitan region. Stayed three days.
February 18j 1949. Moved on again, to the village of Sobo, where help
was given by Dr. Sukardjo, the Regency doctor of Patjitan. Stayed there one
month. During this stay, day-to-day work was arranged in an orderly fashion
with very satisfactory results. Worked from 8:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m., with a
break between 11:00 a.m. and 2:00 p.m. After sunset prayers, Pak Dirman
held discussions with Capt. Supardjo and the others which usually lasted
until midnight. The discussions covered political and military questions,
as well as religion, education, and other matters.
During the stay at Sobo, many things happened, including visits of cour-
iers from the divisions and from Sumatra. On March 3, emissaries arrived
from Col. Gatot Subroto, along with a company of troops under Lt. Col. Suadi.
The company had been ordered to escort Pak Dirman. Lt. Col. Suadi and his
party had had great difficulty finding Pak Dirman. Once Suadi had asked a
certain djogobojo (village watchman) in the village where Pak Dirman was
staying, but the man had refused to give any information, even though
threatened with death. Eventually, Lt. Col. Suadi was taken to the Military
Administration for the area. Only after producing all his papers could he
see Capt. Supardjo.
Meanwhile, Capt. Ranuwidjojo, Commander of the Patjitan Company of the
Digdo Battalion, had been taking care of Pak Dirman.
March 17, 1949. Left Sobo for the village of Nawungan in the Surakarta
region. On leaving, many people gathered to accompany the party. There
7
Mr. R. Iskandar Gondowardojo was born in Ponorogo, East Java, in 1912. He was
graduated from the Djakarta Law Faculty in 1938. During the Dutch and Japanese peri-
ods, he worked in the judicial administration. He was a secretary of the Investigat-
ing Committee for the Preparation of Indonesian Independence, which was established
by the Japanese in March 1945.159
were so many and they were so anxious to help that the soldiers had to carry
only their own rifles. On the march, Pak Dirman rode on a litter.
The same day news was received that the villages of Kasihan and Pringa-
pus, vacated by the party a month before, had been bombed by Dutch aircraft.
Apparently, the Dutch believed Pak Dirman was still there.
On arrival at the village of Ngambarsari, the party had to stop because
Pak Dirman was ill. For two days he had a temperature and shivered, and at
first everyone was very worried. But afterward his condition gradually im-
proved.
Met Maj. Digdo,8 Commander of the Digdo Battalion, at Ngambarsari.
March 21, 1949. Left Ngambarsari planning to cross over to the Tirtomojo
region. The march proceeded slowly because Pak Dirman had not yet fully re-
covered. Covered only five kilometers a day.
March 23, 1949. Enemy aircraft attacked Ngambarsari. Fortunately, Pak
Dirman and his party had already left the village. Received reports that
Dutch patrols were very active in the Tirtomojo region. Had to cancel ear-
lier plan to go there. For ten days, until March 31, Pak Dirman and his
party circled around Tirtomojo, moving from one village to another, not dar-
ing to remain too long in any one place. Meanwhile, continuous efforts were
made to find safe quarters. Eventually, found a safe spot at Sobo in the
Pakis region, Nawangan Sub-District, Patjitan Regency.
April 1, 1949. Left for Sobo. Pak Dirman stayed here the longest dur-
ing the guerrilla war. From that day until his return to Jogjakarta, he did
not go anywhere else. At Sobo we could arrange our work as though in an
office. Food and communications were good, and with the help of radio sets,
we could get news about the situation at home and abroad. We had entertain-
ment from a record player. Frequently, we got deliveries from Jogja and
Solo.
The couriers were very faithful. Even when given letters to deliver to
commanders of divisions whose quarters they did not know, they always exe-
cuted their tasks faithfully. They delivered such messages even if they had
to cover hundreds of kilometers. Although often delayed, they almost always
found the persons they sought. Some of the couriers only found the person
they were looking for after the government had returned to Jogjakarta. Many
visitors came to Sobo. Minister Susanto Tirtoprodjo and leaders of all sorts
of political groups frequently visited Panglima Besar Sudirman.
Pak Dirman had some objections to returning to Jogjakarta when the Repub-
lican government went back to the city. But, since he had received letters
from Sultan Hamengku Buwono IX, Col. Gatot Subroto, and other leaders asking
him to return quickly, in the end he returned to Jogjakarta.
This was Capt. Supardjo!s report, simple but moving.
After resting for a time, Pak Dirman, Pak Hardjo, and myself got
into the car which would take us to Jogjakarta. From our discussions
in the car, I got the impression that, psychologically, Pak Dirman
still could not completely accept recent developments. Understandably,
those who had spent several months participating in the peoplefs war
had lived in a mental world quite different from that of our leaders
o
Sudigdo commanded a regiment in Tamansari, Surakarta, in 1947. After the May
1948 rationalization, he headed the Thirteenth Battalion in the Fifth Brigade, under
Suadi. In January 1949, he became Commander of Sub-Wehrkreise 102, Wonogiri, in
Wehrkreise I, Surakarta, under Slamet Rijadi.160
who had conducted the negotiations in Bangka and Djakarta. Nonetheless,
in the course of the conversation, Pak Dirman did agree that we had no
choice now but to support the agreement and, at the same time, to build
up our strength. Still, he intended to advance proposals and sugges-
tions which would prevent future disappointments. As a matter of fact,
in his May 1, 1949 message, he had already stated:	"I am fully pre-
pared to present to our government conditions and proposals which ac-
cord with the present burning spirit of the resistance among our Armed
Forces and people, bearing in mind and taking into account the views of
our commanders, above all those directly in charge of the fighting."
When we arrived at the house which had been reserved for Pak Dir-
man on Djalan Widoro, Pak Hardjo and I suggested that he should first
see the President and Vice-President before he went to inspect the
parade at the Alun-Alun Lor. We said that it would prompt a lot of
questions at home and abroad if the Panglima Besar did not see the
President on this first day back. He did not answer for some moments.
Eventually, he agreed with the amended schedule I had proposed. I went
immediately to the Palace to report that Pak Dirman wished to call on
the President and Vice-President that afternoon.
I accompanied Pak Dirman to the Palace. This first meeting since
December 19, 1948 between, on the one side, the President and Vice-
President, and, on the other, the Panglima Besar, was a moving event.
Pak Dirman officially reported that the Panglima Besar had returned to
the capital. Then we sat down for a while in the reception hall of
the Palace and talked. Each side asked after the health of the other.
Obviously, more wide ranging conversations would have to wait for an-
other occasion.
During our war for independence and afterward, heated debates
always occurred as to whether the Dutch could be driven out by force
of arms alone or only by political and diplomatic methods. That after-
noon as I sat next to Pak Dirman in the Palace reception hall, facing
Bung Karno and Bung Hatta, I thought:	"This present meeting answers
that question. The political and diplomatic approach, symbolized by
Bung Karno and Bung Hatta, clearly met defeat on December 19, 1948.
From that day on, the military approach, i.e., force of arms, symbol-
ized by Pak Dirman, took over. This approach has not yet succeeded in
ousting the Dutch. It is diplomacy which has made possible holding
the present meeting in Jogjakarta. But diplomacy would certainly have
had no power without the existence of the people's war. It has been
the combination of diplomacy and force of arms, not just one or the
other, that has brought the results so far achieved."
I accompanied Pak Dirman from the Palace to the Alun-Alun Lor.
The parade welcoming the return of the Panglima Besar to the capital
was a simple military ceremony. The officers and troops just returned
from the field did not wear uniform clothing; they had black, yellow,
and green outfits. But those watching the parade would not quickly
forget the atmosphere of this simple ceremony.
After inspecting the parade, Pak Dirman shook hands with Mr. Sja-
frudin Prawiranegara, who was dressed in black and wearing a black
pitji. He had arrived that same day by airplane from Sumatra.
The leaders from Bangka and Djakarta, the Emergency Government
leadership, the Armed Forces Command, all were now together again in
Jogjakarta. From here on, joint deliberations on the road to be taken
would begin.CHAPTER XI
TRACE BARU
Bung Karno first used the phrase Trace Baru [new ground plan] as
a political term in this country in speeches after his return from
Bangka. This phrase meant embracing the BFO people and, in coopera-
tion with them, hastening the recognition of an independent and sover-
eign Indonesia by the Dutch and the world at large. According to the
Trace Baru, the Republic and the BFO would establish a common front
and then send their respective delegations to The Hague to attend the
Round Table Conference, at which the United Nations Commission for
Indonesia would continue its assistance toward an agreement. In con-
trast to the Linggadjati and Renville negotiations, at the Round Table
Conference the BFO would participate on an equal basis with the Repub-
lic .
Before trying to form a common front with the BFO, a consensus of
opinion had first to be reached within Republican circles. Consequent-
ly, on the night of July 13, 1949, the '’Republic” which had negotiated
with the Dutch in Djakarta and Bangka and the "Republic" which had
waged the people's war met together in a cabinet session at the Palace.
Bung Hatta, speaking for the first Republic, said that, in the
opinion of the Bangka leaders, the Emergency Government of the Republic
of Indonesia had been vested with complete internal authority. The
Bangka leaders, therefore, had only assisted the Emergency Government
in making contacts abroad because outside parties had wanted to make
such contacts with the Republic but could not establish them directly.
This was the practical aspect. In addition, Bung Hatta reaffirmed
Palar's1 statement that the Hatta government continued to be the legit-
imate government, though the Emergency Government ran the day-to-day
administration so long as the Hatta government could not function.
This was the formal aspect. Accordingly, Mr. Mohammad Rum and Dr. van
Royen had reached an agreement, and the President and Vice-President
had agreed to recommend its acceptance to the Emergency Government.
Mr. Sjafrudin, speaking on behalf of the second Republic, said
that the radiogram dispatched from Jogjakarta, on December 19, 1949,
which vested full authority in him, had never been received in Bukit-
tinggi. The political and military leaders then in Bukittinggi had
formed the Emergency Government on their own initiative after learning
over the radio that the Dutch had occupied Jogjakarta. The Emergency
Government considered itself the legitimate leader of the resistance.
Lambertus Nicodemus Palar was born in Minahasa, North Sulawesi, in 1902. He
studied at the University of Amsterdam and was active in the Social Democratic Work-
ers* Party in Amsterdam. During the war, he was in the anti-Nazi underground. He
sat on the executive council of the Labor Party and became one of its members in the
Second Chamber of the Dutch Parliament in 1945. He resigned from parliament after
the first Dutch action and was appointed Indonesian representative to the Security
Council. At the time of the Round Table talks he headed the Republic*s Observer
Mission to the UN.
161162
Its main aim from the very beginning was to restore the government.
Sjafrudin thought it necessary to explain that the leadership of the
resistance in the Sumatran regions had not been placed in the hands of
military officers, as had been the case on Java. In Atjeh, it was held
by Tengku Daud Beureueh;2in Tapanuli-East Sumatra, by Military Governor
Dr. Tobing3 4 aided by Lt. Col. Alex Kawilarang; in Central Sumatra, by
Military Governor Mr. Sutan Mohammad Rasjid,1* aided by Lt. Col. Dahlan
Ibrahim;5 and in South Sumatra, by Military Governor Dr. Adnan Kapau
Gani,6 aided by Col. Maludin Simbolon.
Concerning the Rum-van Royen Agreement, Sjafrudin began by noting
that it had been worked out without prior consultation with the Emer-
gency Government. This had lowered the latter’s prestige in the
people’s eyes, but the negative effects had largely been eliminated by
Bung Hatta’s visit to Atjeh to meet with the Emergency Government soon
after the conclusion of the agreement. Sjafrudin then pointed out
2
Daud Beureueh was born in Keumangan, Atjeh, in 1899. He received a religious
education. Before the war, he led the PUSA (All-Atjeh Union of Religious Scholars),
an anti-Dutch, reformist religious organization. He was a prominent figure in the
ulama-led social revolution which occurred in Atjeh in 1945-1946. From 1947 to 1950
he served as Military Governor of Atjeh and Tanah Karo.
3
Dr. F. Lumban Tobing was born near Sibolga, Tapanuli, in 1899. He was gradu-
ated from the Djakarta Medical Faculty before the war. In his youth he belonged to
the Jong Batak and Jong Sumatra organizations. Prior to the Proclamation of Independ-
ence, he worked as a doctor. After 1945, he participated actively in the resistance,
becoming first Resident of Tapanuli and later Military Governor of the same area.
4
Mr. Sutan Mohammad Rasjid gelar Sutan Rangkajo Radjo Putih was born in Paria-
man, West Sumatra, in 1911. He was graduated from the Djakarta Law Faculty in 1938.
While a student, he was active in the Jong Sumatranen Bond, Indonesia Muda, and the
PPPI. After graduation, he worked as a private lawyer. During the occupation, he
served in the judicial administration in Djakarta and later in Padang. From 1945 to
1946, he was chairman of the West Sumatra KNI and Resident of West Sumatra. He
served as Military Governor of West and Central Sumatra from 1948 to 1949 and was
concurrently Minister of Labor, Social Affairs, Development, Youth, and Security in
the Emergency Government.
^Dahlan Ibrahim was bom in Batu Sangkar, West Sumatra, in 1916. He received
a religious education in West Sumatra. During the occupation, he was a middle-level
officer in the Giyugun. After January 1946, he commanded the Second Regiment in
Sawahlunto, part of the Banteng Division under Dahlan Djambek. In 1947, he became
Chief of Staff of the Banteng Division. At the time of the second Dutch attack, he
was the senior commander in Central Sumatra and acting Military Governor.
^Dr. Adnan Kapau Gani was born in Palembajan, near Bukittinggi, West Sumatra,
probably in 1905. He obtained his degree from the Djakarta Medical Faculty in 1940.
He was a founder of Indonesia Muda and the PPPI. He was also active in Partindo and
served as the first chairman of Gerindo. The Japanese detained him briefly, but he
was subsequently rehabilitated. When the Revolution broke out, he was made Resident
of Palembang. He founded the PNI in Sumatra during this time and was active in help-
ing to form the Republican Army in Sumatra. In May 1946, he became Governor of South
Sumatra. He was Minister of Prosperity in the third Sjahrir and the Amir cabinets.
He was a member of the Indonesian delegation which signed the Linggadjati Agreement.
From December 1948 until February 1950, he served as Military Governor of South
Sumatra.163
that:	"The Emergency Government does not take any position with regard
to the Agreement. It leaves that to the cabinet, the KNIP Working Com-
mittee, and the Military Command. The consequences of the decision
will be borne together."
Mr. Susanto Tirtoprodjo spoke on behalf of the Central Government
Commissariat in Java. First he reported officially on the death of
Minister Supeno in the war for independence. He outlined what the Com-
missariat had done in the past months, including the publication of a
"State Gazette." Mr. Susanto was Minister of Justice and he believed
that the fact that a "State Gazette" could be published during the
people's war was the clearest evidence that the government had contin-
ued to function.
Now it was time for Mr. Sjafrudin Prawiranegara to return his
mandate officially and formally to Vice-President Mohammad Hatta. The
history of the Emergency Government of the Republic of Indonesia thus
came to an end. The two Republics became one again.
After settling the problem between Bangka and the Emergency Gov-
ernment, the next issue was:	What was the position of the Armed Forces
Command? I had sent a letter to Bangka from Banaran which said that
the Armed Forces would determine their final stand only after a session
of the Military Strategy Council had been held. This was the highest
body for deciding state strategy. Its sessions were always attended by
the President, Vice-President, Prime Minister, Defense Minister, Pang-
lima Besar, and other ministers and officers as needed. The Military
Strategy Council fulfilled a need urgently felt prior to the Dutch
attack for a body in which the top political leadership could discuss
state defense problems together with the supreme military command.
Sessions of the Council had always been held at the Palace, but this
time an extraordinary session was held at the Panti Rapih Mission Hos-
pital because Pak Dirman was confined there. Dr. Suwondo, Pak Dirman's
private physician, explained that, at most, Pak Dirman could attend
for an hour and that it would be better to hold the meeting in the
morning since Pak Dirman felt fresher then than in the afternoon.
At 10:55 a.m., on July 21, 1949, the Military Strategy Council
opened its session at the Panti Rapih Hospital. The President, Vice-
President (concurrently head of the cabinet and Minister of Defense),
and the Panglima Besar attended. Also present were Mr. Sjafrudin Pra-
wiranegara and Dr. Leimena, who had led the cease-fire talks in Dja-
karta. Officers present included Col. Hidajat, in his capacity as
Sumatra Army and Territory Commander, Col. Nasution (Java Army and
Territory Commander), and myself (Deputy Chief of Staff of the Armed
Forces).
The session of the Military Strategy Council did not last long.
The President, Vice-President, and Dr. Leimena gave the requested ex-
planations to Pak Dirman and accepted his proposals. Then the further
execution of the policies mapped out in Bangka and Djakarta was dis-
cussed. The most immediate problem was the cease-fire. The meeting
designated which officers would take part in its implementation.
Negotiations of a more fundamental nature would still be faced:	first,
with the BFO, at an Inter-Indonesia Conference, and, subsequently,
with the Dutch, at the Round Table Conference. I was assigned to par-
ticipate in these negotiations as the representative of our defense
interests.164
As the Military Strategy Council session met. at the Panti Rapih
Hospital, the Inter-Indonesia Conference (opened on July 19, 1949, in
Jogjakarta) was already under way. This conference closed on July 22.
Consequently, its discussions on defense problems, which could not
seriously be begun until after the Military Strategy Council session
ended, could have the character of general orientation only. The con-
ference resumed later in Djakarta on July 31.
Dr. Leimena headed the Republican delegation at the discussions
with the BFO concerning defense matters. I assisted him. Both of us
had been negotiating with the Dutch delegation on defense problems
since the Renville talks, and we knew quite well the problems this en-
tailed. Our BFO counterparts were Sultan Hamid,7 Mr. Makmun Sumadi-
pradja,8 and Col. Sugondo. The BFO had never before held defense
talks, but they had long been exchanging views among themselves and
with the Dutch on questions of defense and security.
We began the defense talks with the BFO by submitting several
fundamental principles as the bases for a further exchange of views.
We pointed out that the Republic of the United States of Indonesia,
which would soon be created, would be a nation state and thus its
Armed Forces would be the national Armed Forces, i.e., Armed Forces
led by Indonesians. Therefore, the build-up of these Armed Forces con-
stituted a national issue and could not be discussed with the Dutch at
the upcoming Round Table Conference. The conference could only dis-
cuss the procedures and timing of the withdrawal of the Dutch Armed
Forces, consider to what extent we would need Dutch experts in build-
ing our national Armed Forces, and determine how far the Dutch were
willing and able to make available this personnel. We believed that
cooperation within the framework of a Union was limited to contingent
matters, that is, only when both sides believed it necessary to coop-
erate on particular matters.
In general, the BFO agreed with our proposed guidelines. At
first, Sultan Hamid was still asking if it would not be better to con-
sider creating a more permanent structure of cooperation with the
Dutch in defense matters within the Union framework, for example, by
establishing a Union staff. Subsequently, however, he agreed with us
that cooperation with the Dutch could only be of a technical nature,
such as in education; in the realm of strategy it could have no mean-
ing since neither we nor the Dutch would be in the position to provide
7
Sjarif Hamid Algadrie, Sultan Hamid II of Pontianak, was born in 1913. He was
educated at the Royal Military Academy in Breda and served in the KNIL after the out-
break of World War II. His father, the ruling sultan, was killed after the Japanese
invasion, and he himself was imprisoned by the Japanese. In 1945, the Dutch rescued
him and installed him as sultan in October. In April 1946, he was appointed a spe-
cial adjutant to Queen Wilhelmina and in May 1947, he became chief of the Special
Region of West Borneo. From May 1948 to January 1949, he served as Vice-Chairman of
the BFO. He later became its Chairman and led the BFO delegation to the Round Table
Conference.
g
Mr. R. Makmun Sumadipradja was born in Sumedang, West Java, in 1910. He was
graduated from the Djakarta Law Faculty in 1935. During the Dutch and Japanese
periods, he worked his way up through the civil service hierarchy. When the Dutch-
sponsored Pasundan state was formed in West Java, he became secretary-general of its
Department of Internal Affairs.165
concrete assistance if the other partner in the Union were being at-
tacked. Moreover, as KNIL officers, both Sultan Hamid and Col. Sugondo
had a particular interest in the fate of those Indonesians who belonged
to the KNIL. In line with the realization of the Trace Baru, we showed
an understanding of their interests, but within limits which we felt
were compatible with prevailing TNI interests and emotions. Eventually
we reached an agreement whereby the TNI would form the nucleus in the
development of the Armed Forces of the Republic of the United States of
Indonesia and Indonesians in the KNIL would be allowed to join on the
basis of conditions yet to be determined.
The complete text of the agreement reached by the Security Commit-
tee of the Inter-Indonesia Conference was as follows:
The Armed Forces of the Republic of the United States of Indonesia are
national armed forces. Every RUSI citizen is obliged and entitled to par-
ticipate in the defense of the state. The President of RUSI shall serve as
Supreme Commander of the RUSI Armed Forces. Indonesian nationals shall com-
mand the Army, Navy, and Air Force of RUSI. State defense is exclusively
the prerogative of the RUSI government. Member states shall not maintain
their own Armed Forces.
The establishment of the RUSI Armed Forces is exclusively a matter for
the Indonesian nation. The government of the Republic shall form the RUSI
Armed Forces. The Armed Forces of the Republic of Indonesia (TNI) shall
form the core of the RUSI Armed Forces together with the Indonesian nationals
in the KNIL, ML [Military Transport], KM [Royal Navy], VB [Security Brigade],
and the Territorial Battalions, former KNIL members, and those of other mili-
tary units. Conditions will be determined later.
Non-Indonesian nationals who are members of the KNIL and other units who
become Indonesian nationals and wish to join the RUSI Armed Forces may also
be accepted. Non-Indonesian members of KNIL and other units who do not wish
to become Indonesian nationals may serve as instructors according to need.
Their status shall be established as that of a military mission between the
Netherlands and RUSI.
During the initial period of the RUSI, the Minister of Defense may hold
concurrently the post of Panglima Besar of the Armed Forces of RUSI.
The matter of transferring equipment and installations of the KNIL and
other units, including the ML, to the Armed Forces of RUSI will be discussed
further with the Dutch government.
The RUSI government will negotiate with the Dutch government concerning
the possibility of placing part of the Royal Dutch Navy at the temporary dis-
posal of RUSI.
The entire Dutch Armed Forces (the KL) shall be withdrawn from RUSI ter-
ritory. The procedure and time limits for the withdrawal shall be determined
at the Round Table Conference.
Political and financial questions affecting the military relations be-
tween the Kingdom of the Netherlands and RUSI were not included in the Defense
Committee's talks. Therefore, the bases for this relationship, as seen from
the military angle, are as follows:	Cooperation in military matters may be
undertaken in cases where common military interests exist between RUSI and
the Kingdom of the Netherlands. The procedures whereby the RUSI and Dutch
Ministers of Defense, along with the military experts of both countries, will
discuss the manner of implementing such cooperation will be provided for in
the Statutes of the Union.166
Further talks shall be held concerning the possibility of the Kingdom of
the Netherlands providing the technical staff needed by RUSI as well as the
relevant terms.
With the Inter-Indonesia Conference agreement between the Republic
and the BFO, the first objective of the Trace Baru had been achieved,
that is, creating a common front to face the Dutch. As is true of
every negotiation, this common front resulted from a "give and take"
between the Republic and the BFO.
On the occasion of the second Inter-Indonesia Conference, held in
Djakarta, I had the chance to talk at length with a BFO delegate out-
side the conference hall. After we had finished, he whispered to his
friend (but loud enough for us to hear) that one could in fact talk to
these TNI officers after all. Evidently, his past ideas of the TNI had
been based solely on the information provided by the Dutch LVD [Army
Information Service], which always painted the TNI as terrorists, ex-
tremists, rebels, and so forth. At the same time, from my conversa-
tions with these BFO people, I began to realize that not all of them
had the same motives in (as we saw it) collaborating with the Dutch.
When we were in the mountains, we had envisioned them all as puppets,
but this turned out to be too broad a generalization. Some of them
believed that the road taken by the BFO differed from that of the Re-
public because of the different circumstances which each had to face
but that, nonetheless, they were pursuing the same goals.
To realize the second objective of the Trace Baru, i.e., to hasten
world, and particularly Dutch, recognition of an independent and sover-
eign Indonesia, we would send a delegation to The Hague. Dr. Leimena
and myself were appointed to this delegation. Suriadarma, Subijakto,
Daan Jahja (just released from Dutch internment in Nusakembangan), and
Harjono would also participate in the defense negotiations at The
Hague. We would leave Djakarta on August 20, 1949, except for Suria-
darma, who would follow later because he still had matters to settle
in Jogjakarta before he could go.
Before leaving, I had a long talk with Pak Dirman at his residence
in Djalan Widoro. Given the significant and decisive nature of the ne-
gotiations to be held in The Hague, we needed to have a complete una-
nimity of viewpoint between those conducting the negotiations and those
who stayed "at home." Any possibility of a split or conflict emerging
after the negotiations should be avoided. I discussed these matters
with Pak Dirman in my talk with him. In principle, he believed that
we should stick firmly to the decision of the Inter-Indonesia Confer-
ence on matters of defense. In order to have more concrete directives,
after our talk was over, I asked Pak Dirman to repeat the main points
of his instructions while I wrote them down. I noted the following,
which I reread to Pak Dirman before reporting to the Panglima Besar
that I, Col. Simatupang, would carry out his orders to go to The Hague
and negotiate with the Dutch.
1.	In principle, hold firmly to the decisions made by the Inter-Indonesia
Conference on matters of defense.
2.	Dutch instructors may be accepted, but they are not to monopolize
training. If worst comes to worst, they may be given "precedence." (Pak
Dirman himself used the words "worst" and "precedence.")
3.	Problems concerning Dutch and Indonesian KNIL members should be solved
according to the decisions of the Inter-Indonesia Conference.167
4.	Dutchmen can become instructors but not members of the Armed Forces,
because this would contravene the national base of our state.
5.	Establish contact with Dutch government leaders and military command-
ers. Explain to them that the problem is simple, that cooperation can be
established, and that Indonesia will forget everything that has happened if
the Dutch act tactfully. Most important, Dutch troops must be withdrawn
immediately to the cities and thereafter evacuated from Indonesia.
6.	In discharging his duties, Col. Simatupang should adopt the standpoint
that he is going to the Netherlands to struggle on behalf of the future of
the country and in particular the interests of its Armed Forces. He should
be faithful to the instructions of the Panglima Besar, bearing in mind the
power of the Armed Forces and the people. This power may be used in formal
negotiations and in providing information to the Dutch leaders and people.
7.	Firmly urge the head of the delegation, on behalf of the Panglima
Besar or of the Armed Forces, to adhere consistently to his conception on
the transfer of sovereignty. This is the only policy that can be justified.
8.	Communications between The Hague and Jogjakarta must be arranged
speedily.
These were Pak Dirman's last instructions to me before I left for
Djakarta and then for The Hague. One and one-half months after I had
left Banaran, our party, headed by Dr. Leimena, left Djakarta for The
Hague.CHAPTER XII
REPORT FROM NEW DELHI
Our party, under Dr. Leimena, left Djakarta on August 20, 1949.
Prior to departing, I said, in an interview with Arnold Brackman of
United Press, that the present distressing conditions in Indonesia--a
country which had not, thank God, suffered great damage during the
Second World War--were the result of a misguided Dutch postwar policy
toward Indonesia. "We are now prepared to negotiate, but we are also
ready to fight," I said, in keeping with the "second line" tactic which
the Emergency Government had adopted before the Dutch evacuated Jogja-
karta.
On our journey to The Hague, we would stop over in India for two
reasons. First, we wanted to study the settlement of defense matters
after the transfer of power from Britain. Second, we had decided to
stay in Delhi until the Round Table Conference had officially been
opened. The Dutch were delaying the convening of the conference, even
though our Vice-President and the members of our delegation (except
the military delegates) had already arrived in The Hague. The BFO
delegation too was in The Hague awaiting the opening of the conference.
The Dutch gave as their reason for this delay the fact that shooting
continued despite the cease-fire which both sides had ordered. "We
cannot negotiate and shoot at the same time," the Dutch government said
officially to Parliament. Because we were also aware that the confer-
ence could not operate fully so long as the TNI military delegation
was absent, we deliberately planned to remain in Delhi until the Round
Table Conference in The Hague had really opened.
On August 22, we arrived in New Delhi. Our representative in
India, Dr. Sudarsono,1 had arranged for us to meet Prime Minister Nehru,
Defense Minister Baldev Singh, and Indian Army Commander Gen. Cariappa.
From our talks with them we got the impression that the problems we had
to settle with the Dutch were altogether different from those “which re-
sulted when Britain transferred sovereignty to India. We could visual-
ize the Indian situation only if we presupposed an independent Indone-
sia whose Army would be the KNIL, this KNIL being transferred to the
Indonesian government complete with its Dutch officers, and only after-
ward having these officers gradually replaced by Indonesians. Bearing
in mind that Subhas Chandra Bose’s army had been disbanded and its
Dr. Sudarsono was born in Salatiga, Central Java, in 1911. He obtained his
degree from the Djakarta Medical Faculty in 1938. Afterward, he entered private
practice first in Djakarta and then, after 1941, in Tjirebon. He was an important
leader of Indonesia Muda after 1936 and later served as secretary to the Djakarta
branch of the PPPI. During the occupation, he headed the Tjirebon branch of Putera
and was involved in Sjahrir*s underground. After the Proclamation of Independence,
he worked closely with Sjahrir. In December 1945, he joined the first Sjahrir cabi-
net as Minister of Social Affairs. (He was, at the same time, a prominent figure in
the Socialist Party.) He assumed the more important post of Minister of the Interior
in the second Sjahrir cabinet and served as Minister of State without portfolio in
the third.
168169
officers put on trial when India became independent, to make the above
picture complete we would have to imagine the TNI dissolved when Indo-
nesia achieved independence.
When India became independent, it inherited from the British gov-
ernment a high quality Armed Forces which had gained experience on the
battlefields of Asia, Africa, and Europe during World Wars I and II.
These Armed Forces were "nationalized," in the sense that Indian offi-
cers gradually replaced the British, but the government of India did
not act in haste. Replacements occurred only when there were available
Indian officers with the same experience and skill as their British
predecessors. At the time of Indian independence, the commanders of
the Army, Navy, and Air Force were British officers seconded by the
British government to the government of India. Gen. Cariappa was the
first Indian national to become Commander of the Indian Army. During
our visit to Delhi, the Indian Navy was still commanded by a British
admiral. All Indian political leaders and officers who spoke to us
expressed praise for the British officers who worked with the Indian
Armed Forces after independence.
Having ourselves left Banaran only a little less than two months
ago, we found this difficult to comprehend. How could we imagine an
independent Indonesia borrowing a Dutch admiral to serve as Chief of
Staff of the Indonesian Navy? The difference doubtless stemmed pri-
marily from the peaceful nature of India's independence struggle; by
contrast, our fight for independence had been carried out through force
of arms. In addition, it seemed to me that the respect and apprecia-
tion shown by the Indians toward British culture and ways of life were
much greater and more deeply rooted than any appreciation among us for
the Dutch and their culture.
The conditions which we confronted and those faced by an independ-
ent India differed in another way. During World War II, industry had
developed rapidly in India. Stimulated by war needs, ammunition and
armaments factories expanded considerably. As a result, the country
had considerable assets at its disposal at the moment it achieved inde-
pendence. We, in Indonesia, by contrast, had suffered economic decline
and devastation during the Japanese occupation and in the years of
fighting which followed.
During our few days stay in Delhi, we met political and military
leaders of a nation which was conscious and proud of its position as a
great and independent nation but, at the same time, aware of its short-
comings in knowledge and experience in many fields. In order to over-
come these weaknesses as quickly as possible, the nation, therefore,
appreciated aid (in the form of experts) loaned by the previous colo-
nizers. All these experiences created a very deep impression on us.
Some time prior to our party's arrival in New Delhi, Bung Hatta's
group had also stopped over on its way to The Hague. According to Dr.
Sudarsono, Bung Hatta had displayed great interest in the operations
of the British Commonwealth during his stay in Delhi. The formation of
the Commonwealth as a "free association," or a "form of free coopera-
tion," and the fact that it did not have any permanent bodies but sim-
ply meant an exchange of views or "consultations" whenever required,
had apparently given Bung Hatta ideas about the Union question. The
issue would be whether psychological conditions could be created, on
the one hand, and sufficient "objective" considerations could be found,
on the other, to allow a type of cooperation between Indonesia and the
Netherlands as apparently successful as that between India and Britain.170
Having heard the ideas of the political and military leaders in
Delhi and having sensed the atmosphere which prevailed, I personally
was not convinced of the feasibility of all this. In my opinion, we
could not revive among ourselves the kind of views and feelings toward
the Dutch as existed in Delhi toward the British. I was still aston-
ished that a newly independent nation acknowledged its shortcomings
without shame and that it strove to overcome them by using the skill
and experience of the previous colonizers without in any way reducing
its own pride as a great and independent nation. After settling our
own conflict with the Dutch, including its various manifestations
(such as psychological problems), would we later be able to draw, in
one way or another, lessons from the attitudes and experiences of
India? I asked myself this question after finishing the official por-
tion of my visit to Delhi, particularly as this issue related to de-
fense problems which would have to be solved at the Round Table Confer-
ence in The Hague.
In Delhi, our party stayed at the Sudarsono residence. While
there, on August 23, I heard an eyewitness account over Dutch radio of
the opening of the Round Table Conference in The Hague. The Dutch
radio announcer mentioned during his report that two seats among those
reserved for the Republican delegation remained vacant. Indeed, Dr.
Leimena and I were still in Delhi at that moment. Two days later, we
set off to continue our journey to The Hague.CHAPTER XIII
REPORT FROM THE HAGUE
Our party arrived in The Hague several days after the opening of
the Round Table Conference. Bung Hatta, speaking on behalf of the
delegation of the Republic at the opening session, had said:	"Regard-
less of whether or not we have been recognized, we have lived as an
independent state and nation since our Proclamation of Independence."
From conversations with delegation members who had arrived earlier, we
got the impression that the discussions were still at the orientation
stage.
The Republican and BFO delegations were staying at the same big
hotel in Scheveningen.	I said to Harjono, "This is certainly different
from life at Banaran.	It is very easy to forget that we are supposed
to represent and strive for the interests and future of the people who
live in Banaran and other villages of Indonesia." The hotel doorman,
who wore a much smarter uniform than my own, addressed every Indonesian
who gave him a fairly good tip on entering or leaving as "Your Excel-
lency." One day, I had to give him a large tip because I did not hap-
pen to have any small change. The man bowed lower than usual. "Your
Highness," he said reverentially.
Money was indeed all-mighty in this society. We, who had lived
for several years amid an atmosphere of resistance in Jogjakarta and
Banaran where money did not yet govern so many everyday relationships,
found it peculiar that to go to the toilet or use the elevator one had
to tip someone. Would this also happen in Indonesia later on after we
were sufficiently "developed"?
Our delegation consisted of ten members--Bung Hatta, Mr. Rum, Mr.
Ali Sastroamidjojo, Dr. Sumitro,1 Ir. Djuanda, Dr. Leimena, Mr. Sujono
Hadinoto,2 Prof. Supomo,3 Dr. Sukiman, and I. Periodically, we held
Dr. Sumitro Djojohadikusumo was born in Madiun, East Java, in 1918. He re-
ceived his Ph.D. in economics from the University of Amsterdam in 1943. He returned
to Indonesia in 1946 and was appointed an adviser to the Ministry of Finance. In
August 1947, he was made a member of the Indonesian delegation to the UN with special
responsibility for economic and financial matters.
2
Mr. R. Sujono Hadinoto was born in Blora, East Java, in 1915. He was gradu-
ated from the Djakarta Law Faculty in 1942. Before the war, he was active in both
Indonesia Muda and the PPPI in Djakarta. During the occupation, he worked for the
Mangkunegaran enterprises in the Surakarta area. After the Proclamation of Independ-
ence, he worked in the administration of the Jogjakarta Special Region and was even-
tually made a member of the KNIP Working Committee. He was a founding member of the
postwar PNI.
3
Prof. Mr. Dr. R. Supomo was born in Sukohardjo, Surakarta, in 1903. He ob-
tained his law degree from Leiden University in 1927. During the colonial period,
he worked as a judge, an official of the Justice Department, and a professor at the
Law Faculty. He was not politically active. In October 1943, he became adviser to
171172
sessions to take stock of the progress of the negotiations, to make
fundamental decisions, and to determine general policy to be followed.
In addition, there were some forty advisers, experts, and secretariat
members. At least once a week, the delegation met with all of the ad-
visers and experts. Among them were a number of very prominent lead-
ers, such as Mr. Muhammad Yamin,1 * * 4* a lawyer, historian, politician, man
of letters, in short, a sort of "jack-of-all-trades" or all-around per-
son. Others were Chief of the State Police Sukanto,5 Navy Chief of
Staff Subijakto and, arriving later, Air Force Chief of Staff Suria-
darma, Chief Treasurer Mr. Sutikno Slamet,6 and Chief Justice Mr.
Kusumaatmadj a.7
The Round Table Conference had a central committee, better known
by its English language name MSteering Committee.*1 It was composed of
the chairmen and two or three senior members of the Republican, BFO,
and Dutch delegations. Members of the UN Commission for Indonesia,
the UNCI, always attended its meetings also. The Steering Committee
controlled the whole conference. It assigned tasks to the various com-
mittees, for example, the committees on the constitution, financial
and economic affairs, the military, and cultural and social matters.
the Justice Department. In August 1945, he was made chief of the Justice Department
and he became Minister of Justice in the Sukarno cabinet. He was the best-known
legal scholar of his generation.
4
Mr. Muhammad Yamin was born in Sawahlunto, West Sumatra, in 1903. He was
graduated from the Djakarta Law Faculty in 1932. As a student, he headed the Jong
Sumatranen Bond and was prominent in Indonesia Muda and the PPPI. After graduation
he worked as a lawyer but remained active politically, first in Partindo and later in
helping to found Gerindo (along with Amir Sjarifuddin and Gani). From 1938 to 1942,
he sat in the Volksraad. In 1939, he quarreled with his Gerindo colleagues and left
to form his own Minangkabau-based party, the Parpindo (Party of Indonesian Unity).
In September 1943, he was appointed adviser to the Department of Propaganda and held
this post until February 1945. In July 1945, he was arrested briefly for his connec-
tions with radical youth. After the Proclamation of Independence, he became a key
figure in Tan Malaka*s Persatuan Perdjuangan and, as a consequence, was arrested in
March 1946. He was released but rearrested in July 1946 in the aftermath of the
July 3 Affair. He was sentenced to prison and only released in 1948, on the eve of
the Madiun Affair.
^R. S. Sukanto Tjokrodiatmodjo was born in Bogor, West Java, in 1908. Origi-
nally enrolled in the Djakarta Law Faculty, he later transferred to the Police School
at Sukabumi in i930. After graduation, he entered the colonial police force. He
rose steadily in the police hierarchy through the Dutch and Japanese periods. In
September 1945, he was appointed Chief of the new National Police Force. In 1948,
he was sent to the US to study police administration and resumed his post on his re-
turn to Indonesia in July 1949.
Sir. R. Sutikno Slamet was born near Kediri, East Java, in 1914. He was gradu-
ated from the Djakarta Law Faculty in 1939. During the Dutch and Japanese periods,
he worked in the Department of Finance, specializing in taxation. He continued in
this capacity under the Republic.
7
Dr. R. S. E. Kusumaatmadja was born in Purwakarta, West Java, in 1898. He ob-
tained his doctorate in law from Leiden University in 1922. On returning to Indone-
sia, he rose rapidly in the judicial hierarchy. At the end of the colonial period,
he was chairman of the Appellate Court in Semarang. After the Proclamation of Inde-
pendence, he was named the first Chairman of the Supreme Court.173
The various committees reported to the Steering Committee on their
results and referred difficult problems to it for settlement. Bung
Hatta, Mr. Rum, and Dr. Leimena were the Republic's members on the
Steering Committee. One or two delegation members served on each of
the other committees aided by advisers and experts. Dr. Leimena and
myself were on the military committee, assisted by Col. Subijakto, Lt.
Col. Daan Jahja, Maj. Harjono, and, after his arrival, Commodore Suria-
darma, along with several legal experts including Hamid Algadrie.8
I had had experience in military negotiations in Indonesia before
and after the Linggadjati and Renville Agreements. The atmosphere
this time differed from that of previous negotiations. The feeling
prevailed that this round would be the last.
At the opening session, it was decided that the conference should
finish by early November, because it was believed that, by that time,
the situation in Indonesia would again become explosive if no definite
results had been achieved. Moreover, the Dutch, particularly those I
had encountered during negotiations in Indonesia, displayed different
attitudes and behavior here. They were more "normal." Perhaps the
idea which Bung Amir had had after the first Dutch attack was on the
mark after all, namely, that negotiations should be held outside Indo-
nesia and the Netherlands. Perhaps the Dutch would have been even
more "normal" if the negotiations had been conducted outside the
Netherlands.
Dutch newspapers paid considerable attention to the progress of
the conference. Did this mean that the Dutch public was following the
negotiations with great attention and understanding? One day our
delegation received an invitation from the municipal government of
Amsterdam. At an official reception ceremony in the city hall, the
Mayor of Amsterdam, a member of the Dutch Labor Party, expressed the
hope that after the conference, the components of the kingdom (the
rijksdelen) would live more harmoniously with one another under the
Crown's protection. It was obvious that Bung Hatta was somewhat at a
loss for words when it came time for him to reply to this welcoming
speech. However, he diplomatically corrected the mistake in the
mayor's speech. At the dining table, I talked with a wethouder, or
alderman, about the city of Amsterdam and other topics. As we were
about to leave, he asked me seriously:	"Van welk leger bent U?" (From
which army are you?) To what extent did the Dutch people follow the
conference with attention and understanding?
Given the bustle of the conference, I did not have much oppor-
tunity to see the countryside. Everything looked small, flat, orderly,
efficient, safe, tranquil, and prosperous. What an enormous difference
between this country and the vastness of Indonesia, with its mountains,
valleys, and forests, and its society which was turbulently pioneering
the way to a new era.
g
Mr. Hamid Algadrie was born in Pasuruan, East Java, in 1912. He was graduated
from the Djakarta Law Faculty before the war. He participated actively in the Jong
Islamieten Bond and was an important leader of the Indonesian Arab Party (PAI).
After the Proclamation of Independence, he became a senior official in the Ministry
of Foreign Affairs but later transferred to the Prime Ministerfs secretariat. He was
a member of the KNIP Working Committee from 1947 and sat on the Republican delega-
tions to the Renville and Round Table talks. He was close to Sutan Sjahrir.174
I gained a clearer understanding of how difficult it was for the
Dutch to comprehend what was happening in Indonesia at the present
time. This impression became very strong when I spoke with Dutch party
leaders who decided the political line which the Dutch government would
pursue. They used the same criteria to view the Indonesian problem as
were operative in debates within the Dutch Parliament, as though a tur-
bulent Indonesia could be regulated in accordance with the results of
the Indonesisoh Debat [Indonesian Debate] in Parliament. They failed
to understand that the Indonesian revolution not only had a different
tone and language but also a completely distinct logic, from the tone,
language, and logic which prevailed in debates within Parliament.
The delegation meetings I attended after our arrival from India
led me to believe that the most delicate problems would be those of
the Union and of finance. Already at the beginning of the conference,
the Union had become a matter that could no longer be rejected. There
remained only the question of its substance and form. We wanted a very
loose Union, in the nature of a free cooperative relationship without
any general, permanent organization. The Dutch were anxious to create
a tight Union, providing for broad cooperation and a large permanent
apparatus. As regards finance, the fundamental problem involved debts.
We were only prepared to accept the debts of the Netherlands Indies up
until the time of its capitulation to Japan. We did not want to be
responsible for debts which had been contracted afterward and which,
for the greater part, had been used to finance attacks against the
Republic. But the Dutch maintained that we must assume all the assets
and liabilities of the Netherlands Indies.
The cultural and social affairs committee would apparently not
meet any serious difficulties. The questions to be handled by the
military committee still had to be studied in initial meetings with
the BFO and the Dutch delegates on the committee. The problem of Irian
(or Papua as it was usually called in those days) had already come up
in the Round Table Conference Memorandum of June 22, 1949, as part of
the Trace Baru brought back by our leaders from Bangka. But, I person-
ally had not suspected at the beginning of the conference that it would
create such tremendous difficulties by the end. In the memorandum,
the Papua issue was included in the agenda item entitled Mother busi-
ness,” along with international relations, legal position of civil
servants, withdrawal of Dutch troops, etc.
We already knew the BFO members on the military committee from the
Inter-Indonesia Conference, namely, Sultan Hamid, Mr. Makmun Sumadi-
pradja, and Col. Sugondo, and we knew their views. At The Hague, the
BFO delegation was reenforced by Capt. Tahya, a well-known KNIL and
BFO military and political leader. The Dutch delegation was led by the
State Secretaries for War and Navy from the Dutch cabinet, namely Mr.
Fokkema Andreae and Rear Admiral Moorman. In Indonesia, we had always
dealt with the Dutch Army Command and the Dutch Navy Command for Indonesia,
but now we directly faced the Dutch government in negotiations over
military matters. The Dutch State Secretaries were assisted by Maj.
Gen. van Langen, Commander of the troops that had captured Jogjakarta
on December 19, 1948. He had since been appointed Chief of Staff in
Djakarta following Gen. Buurman van Vreeden's assignment as Commander-
in-Chief replacing Gen. Spoor. The Dutch delegation also included Col.
Thomson, whom I had known in Indonesia when he commanded the Dutch
brigade in Bogor, and a number of Navy and Air Force officers from the
Dutch Navy and War Ministries.175
After several meetings of the military committee, the basic prob-
lems that had to be solved and the stand of each delegation toward them
became clear. All agreed that the starting point was the agreement
that at the moment of the SO, souverein-iteits-overdraeht [transfer of
sovereignty], Dutch military forces would be assembled at certain des-
ignated places. They would no longer retain any responsibility for
security and defense in Indonesia but would simply await their trans-
port to the Netherlands. The issue was:	How much time would be needed
to complete this evacuation? The Dutch presented statistics concern-
ing the numbers of troops to be transported and the number and capacity
of their transport ships. They concluded that the process could not
be completed in less than eighteen months. The Republic and the BFO
could not accept this. They were willing to allow six months time for
completion of the troop evacuation. In private conversations with the
Dutch, I said that our people would regard a speedy withdrawal of troops
a test case of Dutch sincerity about beginning a new relationship with
Indonesia. I also relayed to them the instructions of our Panglima
Besar concerning this matter.
The next problem was that of the KNIL. All sides agreed that in
the new conditions following the transfer of sovereignty there would
no longer be any place for these units. As part of the Trace Baru and
its ramifications, an agreement had been reached with the BFO, at the
Inter-Indonesia Conference, that Indonesians belonging to the KNIL
would be accepted into the RUSI Armed Forces, according to conditions
to be decided later. The Dutch, for their part, agreed to make their
own arrangements for Dutch members of the KNIL. Despite general agree-
ment on matters of principle, however, it turned out that many other
issues remained with regard to the KNIL which caused differences of
opinion.
A basic difference arose about the position of the KNIL. The
Dutch maintained that the KNIL was the Army of the Netherlands Indies.
Since in their view the future RUSI would be the heir of the Nether-
lands Indies, the KNIL automatically became RUSI's responsibility.
The Dutch government would take care of the Dutch members of the KNIL
only because it felt a moral responsibility to do so. We, on the other
hand, regarded the KNIL as a tool of the Dutch. As proof we offered
the fact that the use of the KNIL against the Republic had been sanc-
tioned by a decision of the Dutch Parliament. A member of the Dutch
delegation said, "But at that time, there were Indonesians too who ap-
proved of the decision." We answered, "You are now talking to the Re-
public and not to those Indonesians." In our view, the KNIL was a
Dutch problem, but because RUSI was the government of Indonesia, it
would be willing to take care of the Indonesians within the KNIL.
The BFO kept silent on this issue. Eventually, it was decided to
settle the KNIL problem without recourse to any particular set of prin-
ciples. All sides agreed to consider the question from a purely prac-
tical angle and on the basis that each side had a commitment to dis-
solve the KNIL in the best manner possible without bequeathing new
problems. Morally speaking, the Dutch believed themselves duty bound
to make sure that KNIL members were taken care of one way or another.
Indonesia, for its part, realized that the matter might become the
source of long-range difficulties if the KNIL were not disbanded in an
orderly fashion. The Republican delegation proposed that it be stipu-
lated that the Netherlands and Indonesia would work together to liqui-
date the KNIL. The Dutch had psychological objections to the word
"liquidate," and they proposed the word "reorganize." We had no176
objection so long as it was spelled out that:	"At the end of the re-
organization period, the KNIL shall no longer exist"; or, in Dutch,
"Aan het einde van de reorganisatie-period houdt het KNIL op te
bestaan." It was far into the night before the Dutch finally accepted
this clause, during negotiations held in a room at the Dutch Ministry
of the Navy, called de rode kamer, or red room, because its walls were
painted pink.
At that moment, I was reminded of the negotiations on military
matters which I had experienced for several years in Indonesia. In
the present negotiations, the real point at issue was the conflict be-
tween our view that the KNIL should be disbanded and the Dutch view
that the TNI should be. The inability to settle precisely this con-
flict on military issues had led to the first and second Dutch attacks.
Now it had officially been determined that later the KNIL would no
longer exist. To me, it represented a significant night, the night
when the TNI triumphed over the KNIL.
Meanwhile, another question arose, with regard to the time-frame
and the method to be used for the reorganization of the KNIL. We in-
sisted that KNIL members who were Indonesian nationals should be ad-
mitted as individuals into the RUSI Armed Forces, of which the TNI
would be the nucleus. Furthermore, we wanted the KNIL to cease its
existence within six months after the transfer of sovereignty. The
Dutch connected the reorganization of the KNIL to the evacuation of
the Dutch Royal Army, on the grounds that in reality the two military
units were currently linked together from top to bottom. This implied
that they wanted eighteen months to reorganize the KNIL, something we
obviously could not accept.
The BFO had their own opinions on the KNIL problem. They support-
ed our stand that the KNIL reorganization should be finished up within
six months, but, at the same time, they wanted the high command of the
KNIL to be in the hands of Indonesian KNIL officers at the time sover-
eignty was transferred and further that the KNIL troops should be re-
organized under this new command as national troops for the BFO terri-
tories. In other words, the BFO wanted the TNI to remain in Republican
territory and the KNIL troops in the BFO areas; then later the TNI
would merge with the reorganized KNIL. This would mean a merger be-
tween two armies with "national" status, the TNI and the ex-KNIL, with
each maintaining security in its respective territory.
Naturally, we could accept neither the Dutch nor the BFO view.
The debates over the KNIL problem were some of the most difficult which
occurred within the military committee. Finally, all agreed that the
KNIL reorganization would be completed within six months and that the
Dutch Armed Forces Command would retain responsibility for KNIL members
until they were individually accepted into the RUSI Armed Forces accord-
ing to terms to be decided later by the RUSI government. Meanwhile,
KNIL members whom the RUSI accepted would, as far as possible, be
transferred to the Republic of Indonesia in regular units.
The problem of the Air Force and the Navy were settled on a basis
analogous to the Army solution, namely, that at the time sovereignty
was transferred, these two Dutch military services in Indonesia would177
have no duties but would only await evacuation to the Netherlands.
This would affect only the Dutch members; Indonesian nationals would
have the chance to join the Indonesian Air Force and Navy on the basis
of conditions to be established by RUSI. Equipment, arms, and instal-
lations which had been the property of the Netherlands Indies would
automatically revert to RUSI.
In the meantime, special problems arose with relation to the Navy.
We would not have any seaworthy ships at the time of the transfer of
sovereignty. Could we afford to permit smuggling after the transfer?
To prevent smuggling, therefore, it was deemed necessary that Dutch
ships continue their duties for one year following the transfer of
sovereignty, but at the instruction and on the responsibility of the
RUSI government. It was expected that, within this period, our Navy
would acquire its own ships (for example, through purchase from the
Dutch) and would train crews to handle them. The Dutch tried to retain
control of the Surabaja naval base, but, from the beginning, we re-
jected any such proposal.
Another issue centered on the matter of Dutch instructors and the
Military Mission. Talks on this mission did not raise any great diffi-
culties. Both sides agreed that it could operate only so long as both
recipient and donor wished it. The agreement therefore provided that
the mission would cease at any time if either side requested it. Con-
sequently, several years after the transfer of sovereignty when the
Indonesian Parliament decided to end the mission, the problem was
limited to the arrangement of the technical and administrative aspects
of its termination. The agreement also stipulated that, if we invited
another mission to our country while the Dutch mission was present,
the Dutch would be informed and could decide whether or not they would
remain along with the new mission. In other words, the Dutch mission
did not have a monopoly, and either side could end the arrangement at
any time. The underlying idea for the mission was to help train in-
structors within our Armed Forces in order that educational institu-
tions, such as exist in every modern armed service, would be operating
as soon as possible with our own instructors.
Generally speaking, negotiations were conducted on weekdays, be-
ginning in the morning and sometimes lasting until far into the night.
No sessions were held on Sundays. But, in keeping with my promise to
Pak Dirman on leaving Jogjakarta, the military members were always
standing by in our quarters to compile full reports on the proceedings
of the past week, both on official and unofficial negotiations. Every
Monday, a courier left for Jogjakarta taking a diplomatic pouch. When
we reached a critical stage in the negotiations, I sent L,t. Col. Daan
Jahja to Jogjakarta as a special courier. I attached special import-
ance to the maintenance of wide and regular contact with those who had
stayed "at home." From my experience during the negotiations in Dja-
karta, I had seen that a gap could easily arise between the thinking
of those involved in negotiations and of those "at home" if full and
continuous communications were not maintained. Such a gap could very
naturally lead to mutual accusations and distrust and, subsequently,
to conflicts and splits.
The military committee's discussions led to agreement on many
questions, but a number of fundamental problems remained unsolved.
Consequently, from October 26 to 28, 1949, the Steering Committee in-
vited the military committee to attend its sessions in an effort to
reach an agreement on these issues. At that time, the whole conference178
was under great pressure, because all sides knew that a complete agree-
ment had to be reached before the end of October particularly in view
of the conditions in Indonesia. The Sultan had sent a report from
Jogjakarta saying that the situation was becoming increasingly vola-
tile.
It was under such conditions that the Republican, BFO, and Dutch
delegates from the military committee defended their respective posi-
tions before the Steering Committee on the issues of:	the status of
the Surabaja naval base; the procedures for determining the tasks of
the Dutch Navy during the year after the transfer of sovereignty (to
give the Indonesian Navy time to train crews to execute security opera-
tions at sea with their own ships); the procedure, timing, and financ-
ing of the KNIL reorganization; and the time limit for the evaucation
of the Dutch Army from Indonesia. In the course of these discussions,
the delegates of the Republic and the BFO generally presented similar
views. As I had expected before leaving for The Hague, whenever the
delegations were deadlocked, the UN Commission for Indonesia was asked
for its recommendations. If all parties accepted its suggestions, then
the question was considered as settled. But, generally, all parties
tried to bargain over the UNCI recommendations, leading to more debates
until eventually a formulation was achieved which, though satisfying
no one, could no longer be rejected.
In the final outcome, it was firmly declared that the Surabaja
base would be the property of RUSI, which would appoint a Dutch Navy
officer to manage it during the transitional period. Certain Dutch
Navy ships would patrol for one year under orders from RUSI. During
this time, the Dutch would sell RUSI a destroyer and a number of cor-
vettes. With regard to the evacuation of the Dutch Army, it was de-
cided, after a long and heated debate, that the Dutch would try to
finish within six months. If it turned out that they could not com-
plete the job in that period, the matter would be discussed jointly.
The KNIL would be reorganized within six months. The Dutch Military
Command in Indonesia would carry out the reorganization, but the RUSI
and Dutch governments would jointly provide directives governing it.
All things considered, these results were not too disappointing.
On other matters as well, such as the Union and the financial questions,
agreements were reached despite great difficulties.
One morning in the last week of October, sitting next to Mr.
Muhammad Yamin in the hotel dining room, I raised my glass to him and
said:	"To the end of the conference." I did this because the work of
the military committee was practically finished and I assumed the other
committees too had almost completed their tasks. Yamin raised his
glass and responded:	"To everything we have not yet achieved." This
was the first clear indication to me that Mr. Yarnin's committee, the
constitution committee, had run into a problem that could not be solved
at the conference. I had been so busy during the previous days with
the problems facing the military committee that I had not followed
developments within the other committees. That same day, I contacted
the head and members of our delegation to the constitution committee
to learn the ins and outs of this evidently insoluble problem. It
turned out to be the Irian question, or to be more exact, the question
of Papua (the name we used at that time). Near the end of the confer-
ence, the name Irian was already being used though Papua was still men-
tioned. Muhammad Yamin had introduced the name Irian at a Steering
Committee session, on October 29, in his brief refuting the Dutch179
contention that the people of "Irian" were in no position to express
their desires. To prove how wrong the Dutch argument was, he mentioned
the existence of an independence movement called the Partai Kemerdekaan
Indonesia Irian [Indonesian Independence Party of Irian], led by A. B.
Karubuy.9 Responding to Yarnin's statement, the Dutch delegate Krijger
also used the name Irian.
The conference had to close on November 1 or 2, 1949. All parties
realized this. At the October 29 Steering Committee session, the posi-
tion of the Republic and BFO, on one side, and of the Dutch, on the
other, were in complete contradiction. In principle, the Dutch refused
to relinquish sovereignty over Irian. The Republic and the BFO, on the
other hand, maintained that "a complete and unconditional transfer of
sovereignty," which the Dutch themselves had announced to the world,
implied ending Dutch sovereignty over Irian. The Republican delegation
gave the BFO the lead in the Irian debate, apparently considering it
an issue which directly involved the BFO state of East Indonesia,
represented by its Prime Minister Anak Agung. Generally speaking, the
Republic supported his statements in the Steering Committee session.
Yamin supplied prehistoric, historic, sociological, economic, politi-
cal, strategic, and other arguments to support Anak Agung's claim that
Irian should be included within the transfer of sovereignty. The
Dutch, for their part, brought forth all sorts of theories to prove
that Nederlands Nieuw-Guinea must remain under Dutch control.
According to rumor, if the Dutch delegation agreed to transfer
Irian to Indonesia, Parliament would not endorse its action, since
some political parties had already decided to oppose any such step.
Anak Agung proposed a compromise, that is, that Irian would be trans-
ferred to Indonesia but that a joint Indonesian-Dutch agreement would
guide its development. He warned that if the Irian problem were not
settled, it would become a source of continuous trouble and would even
endanger the existence of the Union itself. Maarseveen, of the Dutch
delegation, asserted that the Dutch could not relinquish their respon-
sibility for the progress of the Irianese, but they were prepared to
declare that sovereignty over Irian would not be transferred to a third
party, that they would not change its status without prior consulta-
tion with Indonesia, that Indonesia's interests would be taken into
account in the development of Irian, and that these interests would
"as a matter of course" always be discussed within the framework of
the Union.
Translated from diplomatic language into everyday terms:	Anak
Agung was warning, "If Irian is not transferred, the Union will break
up"; and Maarseveen was answering, "So long as you remain within the
Union, we will take your interests in Irian into consideration.” Con-
sequently, the Steering Committee session established nothing more than
the fact of a deadlock in the talks. After the session ended, the UNCI
submitted a recommendation which would, in essence, have left Irian
under Dutch control but with the proviso that its political status
9
A. B. Karubuy was bora in Miei-Wandamen-Manokwari, West Irian, in 1915. Be-
fore the war he was an associate of Dr. Supomo and worked in the colonial health ser-
vice. While a student in Surabaja, he belonged to Indonesia Muda and to Supomo's
Indonesian National Party (PBI). During the occupation, the Japanese interned him
for two years in South Sulawesi. After the Proclamation, he joined the Republic but
was later imprisoned by the Dutch for over a year. He was the leader of the PKII
and participated in the Inter-Indonesia Conference as such.180
would be determined within a year by negotiations between Indonesia
and the Netherlands.
The following day, October 30, was a Sunday, but the Steering Com-
mittee met nonetheless. The Republican and BFO delegations stated that
Indonesia could not accept the UNCI recommendation. In general, the
Republic and the BFO had usually been the first to accept UNCI recom-
mendations, but this time it was the Dutch. Anak Agung proposed that
sovereignty over Irian be transferred but that the Dutch continue to
administer it for a year while negotiations were conducted between the
Netherlands and Indonesia concerning its future status. The Dutch
immediately rejected this proposal. The situation was clear.
The next discussions, which entailed some dramatic moments, took
place both within the Republican and BFO delegations as well as between
them. Each delegate of the Republic and the BFO envisioned Indonesia
as a vast archipelago, stretching from Sabang to Merauke. We could
not accept the idea that one portion of what we felt to be our homeland
would be separated from it, even if only temporarily.
On the other hand, what would happen if we continued to reject
the UNCI recommendation? It would cause the complete failure of the
conference. One suggestion was to adjourn the conference and resume it
later in Djakarta. But would the UNCI and the Dutch accept this? Fur-
thermore, what else could be discussed? The question was clear; we
had reached a deadlock, and the UNCI recommendation for breaking it was
accepted by the Dutch but rejected by the Indonesians. Would the situ-
ation change if the conference were adjourned and resumed later in Dja-
karta?
If the conference were to be declared a failure, the UN could re-
sume debate on the Indonesian problem. What would happen there? The
UNCI in this instance was closer to the Dutch stand than ours. There
were no grounds for believing that the UN would arrive at a more favor-
able decision for us if the case were referred to it.
What would happen in Indonesia when it became clear that the con-
ference had reached an insurmountable deadlock? Would the situation,
described by the latest reports from the Sultan as explosive, become
uncontollable? If the conference ended in definite failure, would it
be possible to continue the cease-fire which had been understood from
the outset as a short term proposition, that is, until the Hague con-
ference opened new perspectives. If fighting broke out once again,
would it still be possible to return to the conference table later?
What would happen to delegation members in The Hague? Would I be able
to return to Banaran? Or would I be compelled to seek asylum in India?
And what about Bung Hatta? He would naturally not be willing to return
to Bangka.
Perhaps it would have been better if we had not come to The Hague
to negotiate. But what else could we have done? While we were in
Banaran, the Rum-van Royen Agreement had been reached in Djakarta and
had received the blessing of Bung Karno and Bung Hatta. This created
a situation in which, for all practical purposes, it was no longer
possible to reject the agreement without repudiating Sukarno and Hatta.
The Trace Baru brought back from Bangka had brought us to the present
situation. There was no MpleasantM way out of it. Rejection or accep-
tance of the UNCI recommendation would both have unsatisfactory conse-
quences. The issue was to choose one of these unpleasant alternatives.181
Feeling very upset (many members had tears in their eyes), our
delegation decided in the end to accept the UNCI recommendation, but
with the proviso that the final text would clearly state that Irian
remained "under dispute." This dispute would continue after the end
of the Round Table Conference, but the Dutch and ourselves would con-
tinue the dispute as two equal parties, both recognized by the world
as independent and sovereign states. Previously, we had brought the
dispute into an international forum in which the whole world recognized
the Dutch as independent and sovereign but most countries had not yet
recognized Indonesia as such.
Members of the Republican and BFO delegations each mourned inward-
ly as they attended the last plenary session of the Round Table Confer-
ence in the Ridderzaal, or Knights' Hall, in The Hague, on November 2,
1949. I commented to a member of the Dutch delegation whom I had
gotten to know well during the conference: "For four years my country
and yours have been separated by a wide and deep abyss. At this con-
ference we have painstakingly built a bridge across it. On this last
day, however, we are placing dynamite under that bridge which might
destroy it."
The Round Table Conference had ended. For two months, the members,
advisers, experts, and secretariat of our delegation had done their ut-
most to achieve the maximum results possible within the limits of the
Trac£ Baru. This Trac£ Baru reflected the situation which had con-
fronted us at the time it was mapped out in Bangka. Judged by the
aspirations of our resistance conducted since August 17, 1945, the
Round Table Conference results were certainly unsatisfactory. Be that
as it may, the results would pave the way for further efforts and
struggle toward these aspirations. Two significant results accomplished
by the Round Table Conference were:	first, we would forthwith be re-
cognized by the world as an independent and sovereign state, and, con-
sequently, whatever happened in Indonesia in the future would be re-
garded by the world as merely an internal question; second, for the
first time in centuries, the last foreign soldiers would leave the
shores of our Fatherland, except for Irian. The final withdrawal or
disbandment of the Dutch Armed Forces would open the door to new de-
velopments, ones more fitting to the interests and desires of our
people. I myself would immediately bring to Indonesia the stipulations
regarding the timetable and procedures for the withdrawal of Dutch
forces.
On November 3, Mr. Mohammad Rum, Harjono, and I left the Nether-
lands by plane, taking with us to Indonesia the first documents of the
Round Table agreements. The day after our arrival in Djakarta, Harjono
and I went on to Jogjakarta. Col. Bambang Sugeng met us at the Maguwo
airfield. After calling on the Defense Minister, the Sultan, I re-
ported officially to Pak Dirman that afternoon that I had returned
from The Hague. I reported orally on everything that had happened
since I had received Pak Dirman's final instructions on August 18,
1949, before my departure for Djakarta and The Hague. I left a written
report and the complete text of the Round Table Conference decisions
with Pak Dirman, drawing his particular attention to those which dealt
with defense problems. I asked him to contact me if he should need
any clarification and when, after studying the results, he had decided
whether or not they were in keeping with his instructions.
Several days later, Pak Dirman sent for me. He said that he had
studied the conference results, especially those concerning defense,182
and that he could accept them as the accomplishment of the instructions
given to me prior to my departure for The Hague. My tasks in pursuance
of the decision of the Military Strategy Council session, held at the
Panti Rapih mission hospital in Jogjakarta, on July 21, and Pak Dirman's
instructions of August 18 had been accomplished.
I recalled the cabinet session held at the Presidential Palace in
Jogjakarta on the night of July 13, 1949, at which Mr. Sjafrudin Pra-
wiranegara had declared, before returning the mandate of the Emergency
Government:	"The Emergency Government does not take any position with
regard to the [Rum-van Royen] Agreement. It leaves that to the cabinet,
the KNIP Working Committee, and the Military Command. The consequences
of the decision will be borne together."
The Round Table Conference decisions were the consequences of the
Rum-van Royen Agreement, the consequences of the Tracd Baru. Would we
bear these together? Would we be in a position to use these results
as a stepping stone to continue our struggle together toward a power-
ful, just, and prosperous Indonesia, so that the tears and blood shed
during the war for independence would not have been in vain.
For the struggle goes on.CONCLUSION
MATARAMAN AND NO. 56, PEGANGSAAN TIMUR
In 1629, the army of the Kingdom of Mataram arrived at the bank of
the Tjiliwung River under orders from Sultan Agung to drive the Dutch
from Batavia, which they had founded in 1619 at a place previously
called Djakarta. The Mataram troops made the area around the Tjiliwung
River their base for the attack on Batavia. For that reason, the area
has been known till now as Mataraman. Sultan Agung's army failed to
drive the Dutch from Batavia, and, from this town, the Dutch expanded
their sphere of domination until, in the end, the whole Fatherland of
Indonesia was subjected to the Dutch colonial yoke.
Three hundred and twenty years later, on the afternoon of December
27, 1949, a delegation left the Proclamation Building at No. 56, Pe-
gangsaan Timur in the Mataraman area to go to the Rijswijk Palace to
attend a ceremony marking the official termination of Dutch domination
of our Fatherland. After the recognition of our sovereignty the
Rijswijk Palace was renamed the Istana Merdeka [Independence Palace].
As it happened, the head of the delegation was Sultan Hamengku Buwono
IX of Mataram, a descendant of Sultan Agung.
On that same day, December 27, the Armed Forces High Command was
formed. Commodore Suriadarma was appointed Chief of Staff of the Air
Force and Col. Subijakto Chief of Staff of the Navy. The Java and
Sumatra Commands were abolished. Col. Nasution, former Java Commander,
became Chief of Staff of the Army, and Col. Hidajat, former Sumatra
Commander, was appointed head of one of the most important sections of
the Army Staff. Pak Dirman became Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces.
He was at that time recuperating in Jogjakarta. I became Acting Chief
of Staff of the Armed Forces, or, in the term of the time, "Fungerend
KSAP."
The reader will perhaps forgive me now for a few words of a per-
sonal nature. On the first night of our second war for independence,
as I lay in the guardhouse at Minggir on the bank of the Progo River,
I told myself that, by comparison with those friends who had had to
leave wives and children behind in order to continue the resistance,
my own fate was not too bad. For at that time I was still single.
Since December 12, 1949, Adik Budiardjo has been my wife, my companion
in happiness and sorrow. Without her the bright days of my life would
not be so enjoyable and the dark days would be even darker for me.
When Rudyard Kipling wrote:
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
183184
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master;
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster,
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build fem up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings,
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss;
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the will which says to them:	"Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds1 worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything thatfs in it,
And--which is more--youfll be a Man, my son,
he apparently did not understand that in fortitude and greatness of
soul a woman is no less than a man.
When Sang Surya spread his rays on our beautiful Indonesian archi
pelago on December 28, 1949, Sang Saka Merah-Putih waved proudly every
where in our Fatherland, the symbol of triumph and of commitment to
build a powerful, just, and prosperous Indonesia. Only in West Irian
did the Dutch tricolor still fly. For how much longer?INDEX TO BIOGRAPHICAL FOOTNOTES
Abdulkadir Widjojoatmodjo, 99
Abimanju, 44
Achmadi, 74
Algadrie, Hamid, 173
Ali Machmudi, 69
Ali Sastroamidjojo, 57
Amir Sjarifuddin, 15
Anak Agung Gde Agung, 39
Ardiwinangun, 70
Arudji Kartawinata, 87
Asikin, Dr., 151
Askari, 79
Bachrun, 37
Bambang Sugeng, 29
Bambang Supeno, 70
Beel, 17
Budiardjo, Ali, 40
Budiono, 40
Buurman van Vreeden, 141
Chaerul Saleh, 34
Cochran, 17
Daeng, 28
Dahlan Ibrahim, 162
Dartojo, 53
Daud Beureueh, 162
Djajadiningrat, R. B., 86
Djambek, Dahlan, 99
Djatikusumo, 88
Djojohadikusumo, Margono, 31
Djojohadikusumo, Sumitro, 171
Djokosujono, 77
Djuanda, 20
Djumhana, 39
Drees, 58
Dul Arnowo, 71
Farid Ma'ruf, 54
Gani, A. K., 162
Gani Suradipura, 52
Gatot Subroto, 67
Goes van Naters, van der, 120
Graham, Dr., 32
Halim, Abdul, 45
Hamengku Buwono IX, 20
Hamid II, Sultan, 164
Harjono, 22
Hatta, 17
Heutsz, van, 120
Hidajat, 14
Hutabarat, 21
Hutagalung, Dr., 140
Iskandar Gondowardojo, 158
Jahja, Daan, 21
Jani, 36
Kartakusuma, 86
Kartasasmita, Didi, 79
Kartosuwirjo, 97
Karubuy, 179
Kasimo, 48
Kasman Singodimedjo, 69
Kawilarang, Alex, 86
Kemal Idris, 30
Kusno Utomo, 35
Kusumaatmadja, 172
Latif Hendraningrat, 19
Leimena, 20
Lubis, Zulkifli, 18
Lumban Tobing, 162
Makmun Sumadipradja, 164
Maladi, 74
Mangkunegoro VIII, 66
Mansur, 96
Maramis, A. A., 127
Martadinata, 87
Maruto Darusman, 77
Masdulhak, 17
Maskur, K. H., 48
Mokoginta, 30
Mook, van, 17
Mukti, K. H., 54
Munadi, 70
Murdjani, 70
Mursito, 72
Muslimin, 24
Muso, 81
Mustopo, 45
Nasution, 14
Natsir, 110
Neher, 118
Oey Gee Hwat, 77
Paku Buwono XII, 66
Palar, 161
Pirngadie, 85
Prawoto, 66
Princen, 30
Puradiredja, Adil, 39
Rasjid, Sutan Mohammad, 162
Romme, 120
Ronomarsono, 77
Royen, van, 99
Rubijono, 19
Rukana, 30
Rum, 5 7
Sadikin, 35
Saleh, Aziz, 85
185186
Saleh, Effendi, 85
Salim, Hadji Agus, 31
Santoso Wirodihardjo, Maria
Ulfah, 40
Sarbini, 44
Sardjono, 77
Sasraprawira, 21
Sa^sen, 58
Schuurman, Elink, 99
Setiadjid, 82
Simbolon, 89
Sjafrudin Prawiranegara, 21
Sjahrir, 20
Slamet Rijadi, 74
Spoor, 117
Stikker, 58
Suadi, 146
Subijakto, 80
Sudarsono, Dr., 168
Sudiarto, S., 71
Sudigdo, 159
Sudirman, Gen., 12
Sudirman, Lt. Col., 69
Sudiro, 66
Sudjono, Mr., 75
Suhardjo, 66
Suharto, 37
Sujono Hadinoto, 171
Sukanda Bratamenggala, 19
Sukanto Tjokrodiatmodjo, 172
Sukarno, 23
Sukiman, 49
Sukono Djojopratignjo, 54
Sukowati, Suprapto, 70
Sumarsono, 54
Sunarto Kusumodirdjo, 69
Sungkono, 70
Supardi, 85
Supardjo, 146
Supeno, 48
Supeno Hadisiswojo, 82
Supomo, 171
Suprapto, 75
Suprijadi, 147
Suriadarma, 18
Suriosumarno, 86
Suripno, 77
Surjosularso, 23
Suroso, 67
Susanto Tirtoprodjo, 48
Susilowati, 68
Sutikno Slamet, 172
Sutomo, 81
Suwarto, 44
Suwondo, 21
Tambunan, 83
Tandiono Manu, 69
Tan Malaka, 43
Taswin, 30
Tirtawinata, 131
Tjokroaminoto, Anwar, 54
Tjokroaminoto, Harsono, 153
Umar Djoy, 69
Urip Sumohardjo, 76
Vredenburgh, van, 99
Wijono, 53
Wilujo Puspojudo, 36
Winarno Danuatmodjo, 85
Wingate, 41
Wiranatakusumah, 39
Wiriadinata, 74
Wongsonegoro, 38
Yamin, 172
Zainul Arifin, 67