Life after WWII: The Bersiap – From Captivity to Chaos

By Edward E. E. Frietman

This is the second installment in a three-part series (see part 1 and part 3) featuring Indo luminary Edward E. E. Frietman. In this chapter, he recounts his experiences as a young child in the immediate aftermath of World War II, during the violent and chaotic Bersiap period in what is now Indonesia. As an eyewitness to this turbulent chapter in Indo history, Edward offers a rare and deeply personal perspective on a time marked by fear, unrest, and survival.

Content Warning: This article contains descriptions and imagery related to war and violence.

Chaos After Japan’s Surrender

When the Allied forces handed over the occupation of Java to the British in 1945, only one battalion of Scottish Highlanders was available for deployment. The other troops that landed in Java were a few battalions of the Burmese National Army and about 45,000 soldiers of the British Indian Punjabis, Rajputs, Mahrattas and Gurkhas. These were drawn from tribes that had provided troops and had joined the British centuries earlier. Their duties consisted of taking over Japanese authority and disarming their army.

The Royal Netherlands East Indies Army (Het Koninklijk Nederlands-Indisch Leger: KNIL) was founded in 1814 to protect Dutch colonial interests in the then Dutch East Indies. It was part of the Dutch army until 1830, when it officially became an independent army. The re-established KNIL was given the task by the Dutch government to maintain order and disarm the freedom fighters, including the pemoeda. To man the KNIL, indigenous soldiers of Menadonese and Timorese descent reported for active service and returned Ambonese soldiers stationed in Australia.

The fighting in the Dutch East Indies initially took place around small bridgeheads that British troops had captured after the Japanese capitulation and that were taken over by KNIL units, Dutch war volunteers and marines in the course of 1946. From September 1946, the Netherlands sent tens of thousands of conscripts to the Dutch East Indies to restore Dutch authority.

The situation worsened and dragged on, because immediately after the capitulation of Japan the ‘bersiap’ period began. The KNIL had to be re-formed and re-manned, the British occupied only strategic positions, the civilian internment camps remained closed and the Japanese, who had been forced to protect those camps from the pemoeda during the capitulation, were now attacked by Indonesian paramilitary groups such as the Laskar Rajat and the Banteng Hitam. The pemoeda (also called ‘peloppors’ or ‘rampokkers’) broke into arms depots throughout the country and used weapons against the Japanese, the British and the white civilian population. During this time the houses, originally inhabited by Europeans (Dutch and Dutch East Indies), were plundered by the pemoeda. Anyone who happened to be in the house was brutally murdered. Thousands of whites were murdered in the few months after the Japanese capitulation.

I had just turned five years old.

Family’s First Escape Attempt

One day, my grandfather heard that an Indonesian family had been murdered on the corner of the Leonielaan, who had had contact with the Dutch in the past, and my mother realized how dangerous the situation had become for us to stay any longer. The same source also told us that there was a British post a quarter of an hour’s walk away, in the Ice Factory, diagonally opposite Meester Cornelis station.

For the first attempt, see the escape route indicated in yellow.

An agreement was made with seventeen other residents of Leonielaan to flee there.

At 18:00, the procession moved as quickly as possible in a long line towards the intersection at the beginning of Leonielaan, to then turn left onto Bekasiweg towards the station. When we approached the intersection to within 50 meters, we suddenly saw dozens of young people, armed with ‘klewangs’ (machetes) and ‘bamboe roentjings’ (bamboo sticks with sharpened ground tips hardened in fire), crossing the railway line from the other side, jumping over the fence and running towards us shouting. The entire group immediately turned around and tried to flee back to their own homes as quickly as possible.

It was obvious that most people, including many children, would not make it, so it was decided to ask Dr. Zakaria, who lived at the beginning of Leonielaan (the small red dot), for protection. The horde of pemoeda also reached Dr. Zakaria’s yard right behind us. At that moment, he appeared at the front door and shouted in a thundering voice what was going on. I don’t recall what he shouted in his loud voice, but his action overwhelmed the crowd. They said that they wanted to search us for weapons. Dr. Zakaria gave them permission on the condition that we would be left alone afterwards. We told Dr. Zakaria that we wanted to go to the Ice Factory opposite the station, but the crowd heard that too and we heard that they decided to wait for us beyond the intersection out of sight of the doctor and slaughter us there. The crowd then left for the Ice Factory. Everyone on Leonielaan was terrified and it was decided to return to our own homes with the idea that we could hide and defend ourselves better there.

The group that wanted to catch us had noticed that they were being misled, because we never showed up at the Ice Factory. They did know that the people from the group belonged in the Leonielaan, but not in which house, so they went back to look for us.

Frietman Family’s Second Escape Attempt

Gradually, about twenty pemoeda gathered in front of our house, waiting for their leaders, but for now there was no action. Later that evening we heard them walking around behind the house, but my grandparents and mother had made the house look deserted. When they looked over the back wall, they lit the house and the yard with a flashlight but only saw an ‘empty’ house.

In the middle of the night a well-disposed resident of Kampoeng Rawabangkè advised us to leave the house immediately, because the killing was already taking place at the beginning of the street. The only thing we could take with us was what we were wearing. Leaving behind all our belongings, my mother, my grandparents and I fled silently and unnoticed from the Leonielaan and sneaked around Kampoeng Rawabangkè to the Ice Factory, where at that moment a unit of the ‘Sikhs’ was still stationed. I can still remember our escape well. 

See the Frietman family’s escape route, marked in red, illustrating their second life-saving attempt.

I was carried alternately by my grandmother and mother. We had to be very quiet, and everything happened in great haste. In the distance, we could already hear the pemoeda approaching. When traversing a ‘djagoengveld’ (cornfield) my grandmother also stepped on rusty barbed wire that surrounded the ‘buitenkamp’. To get to the Ice Factory, we had to walk around Kampoeng Rawabangkè, which was behind our house. The indigenous people of this camp did not harm us because my mother had always helped them when necessary.

Arriving at the Ice Factory location, my grandparents and I were allowed inside, but for some unclear reason, my mother had to stand outside on the street by herself. At one point, my mother was able to flag down a passing jeep, which was driven by a Burmese policeman. This policeman patrolled the Leonielaan every day with three armed men. On one of the previous occasions, he had promised my mother that he would pick us up at 10:30. Unfortunately, that was the same day that we had to flee from our house.

The reason he did not keep his promise was that the night before, two Burmese colonels had been found beheaded, naked and horribly mutilated in a ‘betjak’ (cycle rickshaw) in Gang-Solitude at Meester Cornelis. This place was barely 150 meters from their military camp and a hideout. That same morning, the Burmese unit murdered the entire Gang-Solitude in revenge. My mother explained to him that they’d had to abscond the house and flee to the Ice Factory. While it was extremely dangerous on the streets because of the ‘pemoeda’, who were running around with fire-hardened ‘bamboe roentjings’ to plunder all the houses of westerners and kill all the inhabitants, her parents and her son were allowed to go inside, but she was ordered to stay outside.

My mother asked him if he would take us either to a guarded reception center or temporarily, to their military camp. He escorted us, accompanied by two armed men, to the military hideout. We were allowed to spend a night in their shelter camp on the condition that we would leave immediately if there was a confrontation with the pemoeda. The house where we were accommodated was close to the viaduct, where the train went via Manggerai to Meester Cornelis. We slept in the room of the two murdered Burmese colonels. My grandfather was given a camp bed; my grandmother and I slept in the colonels’ beds and my mother slept on the floor. The Burmese who helped us later turned out to be a soldier of the ‘Sikh’ caste. I remember they gave us something to eat for the first time, something like peaches or apricots in juice, salmon, sardines, sour bombs in cans. We were thankful that we had something to eat.

The ‘Sikhs’, an ethno-religious group following Sikhism with origins in the late 15th century in the Punjab region of the Indian subcontinent, did not act against these gangs, as they felt they had nothing to do with them.

Around 4 a.m., we woke and had to leave to hide in the deep ditch in front of the house. This was because an attack by pemoeda on the military post was expected at any moment. We spent the rest of the night in this ditch alongside the road. When it became light, my mother stood in the middle of the road to stop the first vehicle that passed. Eventually, a jeep came at full speed.

Because my mother was just standing in the middle of the road, the driver had to hit the brakes. It turned out to be a Dutch admiral. He said to my mother, “Woman, are you crazy to stand in the middle of the road? You can be shot dead at any moment.” My mother then answered him, “May my parents, my son and I go with you? It doesn’t matter where you go.” He told her that he was on his way to Buitenzorg, where he had to report. Later, my mother heard that he had been slaughtered near Depok on his way to Buitenzorg.

Flight, Shelter, and Survival

Escorted by two armed Gurkhas, we were taken from the military hideout to a refugee shelter along the road. This center was called the ‘Goede Herder’ (also called Mater Dolorosa). This monastery was in the southeastern part of Meester Cornelis at Pasarstraat 122. Upon arrival, we were first denied access by the commander, Captain Hengeveldt, who was in charge at the time. A former prisoner of war, who ignored the captain’s screams, simply let us in.

To be continued…

The author and publisher disclaim any liability in connection with the use of the information and content of this article.

This is the second installment of a special three-part series featuring the firsthand experiences of Edward E. E. Frietman. Read the first part and third part. Stay tuned for the final installment, where Edward shares his powerful account of the Bersiap period—a turbulent and often-overlooked chapter that followed the end of World War II. Don’t miss his compelling reflection on this pivotal moment in Indo history.

Free Ebook Edition: Prefer to read offline or keep a permanent copy? Download all three parts compiled into a single, convenient collection for free on Google Play Books.