The three military attachés glanced at each other, unconvinced. Jonathan Meyers’ words were destined to return and haunt the next generation of Australian soldiers.
* * * *
One hundred miles north of the Indonesian capital, Jakarta, the modified long-range Boeing 707 Air Force One’s crew signaled to President Nixon’s aides that they would be making their final approach within the next minutes. An attendant moved swiftly through the aircraft and stopped at an appropriate distance before addressing the leader of the Free World.
‘Excuse me, Mister President,’ she smiled broadly, ‘the captain has advised that we shall be landing shortly.’ Nixon nodded without eye contact and returned to his notes prepared by Henry Kissinger, who had, only minutes before, completed his final briefing on the Republic of Indonesia.
President Nixon’s eyebrows squeezed together in a frown as he recalled Kissinger’s specific comments. He mentally revisited these, his adviser’s words coming back to mind; “General Suharto is a moderate military man, committed to progress and reform. When in discussion with Suharto you should not raise the issue of the West Irian plebiscite except to respond if Suharto mentions the territory. You need to demonstrate that the US is sympathetic to Indonesia’s concerns.”
Jet-lagged yet only partly into his Asia tour which would take him across SE Asia into Vietnam before returning to Washington, the furrows of Nixon’s wrinkled face deepened, lost in geo-political confusion. ‘What the hell has Iran got to do with this fellow Suharto?’ he had asked the US National Security Adviser.
The President did not detect Kissinger’s inaudible sigh. ‘Irian, Dick, not Iran. The Indonesians call West New Guinea, West Irian.’
Despite being advised of Indonesia’s real intentions and the obvious flaws evident in the Act of Free Choice, Nixon agreed with Kissinger’s position that it was imperative for the US not to create obstacles for the Indonesians. Since the Washington-Jakarta rapprochement following Suharto’s successful coup d’état, Kissinger knew the US was on the path for the Suharto-regime becoming increasingly pro-United States.
The recently elected president looked out the cabin window as the Boeing banked — his first imagery of the world’s largest Moslem country spread out below prompting the question in his mind. ‘How could this bankrupt nation be capable of paying for the military hardware they would undoubtedly require, to maintain their sovereignty over the fractious archipelagic nation?’
* * * *
West Irian (West Papua)
The Plebiscite — The Act of No Choice
1969
Widespread rebellions erupted across the Western Central Highlands with the potential to jeopardize the integrity of the imminent voting process. Indonesia responded by increasing its military presence. In April, one hundred Papuan police mutinied and joined the Free Papuan Movement, OPM.
General Sarwo Edhie, the territory’s Indonesian military commander, came under fire when his plane flew over the area. Livid at the audacity of the attack the General responded in the same bloody manner as he had in the aftermath of the failed Communist takeover in 1965. Ordering his forces to punish the OPM to the extreme, B-26 bombers strafed hamlets, and paratroopers from West Java were flown in to sweep the territory clean of all resistance. However, superior numbers and weaponry failed to break the Papuan spirit and the Indonesian counter attack faltered with nationalist demonstrations flaring on all fronts.
* * * *
In an isolated enclave dominated by snow covered peaks, dusk passed. Darkness now masked the permanent mantel of clouded forest and verdant, fluorescent-green landscape, blanketing valleys below. Plumes snaked lazily from open timber-fuelled fires, flames illuminating the communal centre where ageing, betel-stained-teeth women gathered to watch barefooted children play. Surrounded by oak-brown thatched huts, young men sat within earshot of their elders, shoulders wrapped against the brisk highland air as they listened intently to Tomas Karma who had come to confer with the tribal council.
The Reverend Natan Tabuni’s discerning eyes locked on Tomas Karma’s movements from the moment he had entered the village. Natan had learned from others associated with the Council of Churches’ missionary activities that Tomas had often been sighted mingling with Jakarta’s dreaded Special Forces and members of BRIMOB, the brutal Mobile Police Brigade. During an earlier visit when he had challenged Tomas, the thirty-year-old, self-appointed ondoafi, or traditional head, had simply shrugged off the question, leaving Natan sceptical as to the man’s sincerity in supporting the OPM. The Reverend’s travels occasioned visits to Tomas’ home area of Sentani where whispers of the large numbers of Papuans killed were directly accorded to Tomas’ association with the Indonesian military. Natan considered the man an enigma; deeply concerned that Dutch-educated Tomas harboured a secret political agenda which could threaten the overall independence movement.
Natan continued to eye the visitor who sat crouched, squatting on haunches, arms crossed, seemingly absorbed by youngsters wrestling in the flickering campfire light. Natan’s attention was momentarily distracted by Bennie, as the light-skinned child wrestled his opponent, Jules, to the ground in laughter.
Natan never tired of watching the adopted seven-year-old boys at play, content that they had integrated successfully into village life. As the boys frolicked Jules gained the advantage over his adversary Bennie. Unable to break his hold Bennie yielded to Jules who rose to his feet and playfully beat his chest.
Natan smiled, the moment reviving a memory he wished he could put to rest.
Several months had passed since news of the Dutch missionary’s slaughter had reached Natan’s village. The elder had hurried to the scene and, upon viewing the carnage, had his men bury the Dutch woman where she had died. Julius had been taken to Natan’s community in the highlands to be cared for until, as Natan had mistakenly assumed, the authorities would repatriate the child. As the months passed the infant became part of the village mosaic; his assimilation into Natan’s community unobserved to the outside world.
The village elder considered the two children. It was not uncommon for mixed ethnicity to be evident in Papuan families. During the Dutch presence there were numerous liaisons with native women. And, as the Dutch society across the Indies perceived a mixed marriage a greater evil than concubinage, and men married to native women and their offspring were barred from returning to Europe, the fruit of these relationships were invariably left behind.
Natan’s thoughts turned to Bennie who had been delivered into his hands by Brother Tobias, following the disappearance of the American explorer Michael Rockefeller.
Charged with keeping Bennie’s origins secret, Natan had undertaken to never reveal the truth of Bennie’s parentage; the boy’s past would remain buried, a pact sworn with the missionary, Tobias.
* * * *
Tomas Karma moved closer to the camp fire, shadows flickering across his figure when a villager stoked embers to life.
‘Before I leave,’ he addressed the older men, ‘I remind you again what is expected of this village.’ Assured of their attention he continued. ‘Soon there will be others who will come. These will be representatives of the great world power, the United Nations who will oversee the plebiscite. You must do as they say.’
With the majority of the elders’ eyes dropping subserviently, Tomas remained confident knowing that yet another village community would comply with the voting procedures he had adumbrated earlier in the day. With his connivance, West Irian would remain a fiefdom