Life after WWII: The Bersiap – Refuge, Resistance, and Reunion

By Edward E. E. Frietman

This is the final installment of a special three-part series (see part 1 and part 2) featuring the firsthand experiences of Edward E. E. Frietman. In this chapter, he continues the story of how his family endured and survived the turbulent Bersiap period following the end of World War II.

The Frietman family, consisting of Edward’s mother, oma and opa, had fled for their lives numerous times in the aftermath of WWII, trying to stay out of sight of the Indonesian freedom fighters called the Pemoeda. We return to his story at a shelter, the ‘Goede Herder’ monastery in Batavia. Edward was five years old.

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

A Night in the Monastery

I remember that we slept in a small room with very small windows. Later, it turned out that this was the consistory room of the church. We slept on rattan stretchers on the floor. Because of the attacks by the pemoeda, we were only allowed to stay there for one night. The next day, we were to be taken to the 10th Battalion camp (10th Bat) in the center of Batavia. That same evening all the male residents, including my grandfather, were given a rifle (Lee-Enfield) by Captain Hengeveldt because of an attack by the pemoeda, who were shooting at all the buildings from the ‘Tjiliwoeng’ river.

The next morning, my mother and grandmother both drove in a jeep to Leonielaan, under guard of four armed Ambonese soldiers, to see if any of the household goods or food could be saved. When they arrived on the spot, everything had been destroyed, vandalized and looted. Thus, our family had been unable to save anything; no photos, no clothes, nothing at all.

When my mother and grandmother had returned from Leonielaan, witnessing the horribly mutilated bodies floating in the ‘Tjiliwoeng’, they then realized that all refugees had to be taken to the 10th Battalion (10th Bat) in a truck full of armed Ambonese. The Ambonese rode with us to protect us from attacks by the pemoeda on the road and Indonesian snipers, who had dug in or hidden in the trees along the road. They shot at everything that passed. We had to lie down on the floor of the truck for our own safety. In the same truck was also a mad, blinded by frenzy ‘mata gelap’ Ambonese, who had just discovered that his entire family had been slaughtered by pemoeda. It was terrifying for me.

Survival in the 10th Battalion

In 10th Bat, we were housed in a sergeant’s house where twenty other people were already staying, fortunately, all residents of Leonielaan. We stayed in large sheds where the different families were separated from each other by hanging sarongs and slept on ‘tikars’ (mats woven from palm leaves of about 70 x 150 cm) on the floor. The sanitary facilities were poor; they were not designed for so many people. For safety, the camp was guarded by Ambonese KNIL soldiers.

A large part of the west side bordered the Tjiliwoeng River. The east side edged a large and wide road, where the tram also ran that connected the north with the south of Batavia. The north side was cordoned off with a heavy barricade of barbed wire. The south side was bordered by a high wall, behind which the Indonesian police station with its barracks was located. The back gardens were bordered by a three-meter-high wall. The soup kitchen was located directly on the river. From a kampoeng, which was located on a kind of peninsula formed by the winding river ‘Tjiliwoeng’ on the other side, the kitchen staff were shot at in the evenings, which regularly resulted in deaths. In retaliation, the entire kampoeng was destroyed that same night by Ambonese soldiers with bursts from various machine guns.

Shortly afterwards, something terrible happened. At one point, an Indonesian tried to enter 10th Bat under the guise of looking for a family member. A Menadonese soldier, who did not trust the situation, quietly crept up behind him. The Menadonese soldier saw the Indonesian pull something from under his clothing with the intention to throw it at a group of women and children. Before he could carry out his intention, the Menadonese soldier decapitated him with a blow from his ‘klewang’ (a cutlass). During the investigation, it turned out that the Indonesian had four hand grenades with him; two clamped to the inside of his thighs and two around his calves. After the incident all the children, including me, stood around the decapitated corpse lying on the ground, not fully realizing what had just happened before our eyes. My mother later told me that the Menadonese soldier was so ‘Mata Gelap’ at that moment that he licked the blood of the ‘klewang’ after this act.

In the beginning, snipers of the barracks would shoot at us every day from tall trees around the camp, killing women, children, and soldiers. They were shot out of the trees as soon as they could be located. I remember having to hide in a room with other children, where the camp’s rice bales were also stacked. I will never forget the whistling and banging of the guns.

The camp was initially guarded by British troops who were stationed in various places. Later, this was taken over by Ambonese KNIL soldiers. 

At one point, amoebic dysentery broke out in the 10th Bat. I became increasingly thin, hardly ate anymore and had multiple intestinal bleedings and a stool full of blood. The military doctor advised my mother to take me to the Children’s Carolus Hospital in Meester Cornelis, where she brought me at risk of her own life. The trek always went through the then infamous Salemba district, where people were regularly slaughtered. I still remember it as if it were yesterday that I was tied to the bed by the nurses and my mother to prevent me from following her and possibly having another intestinal bleeding. I had to stay in the hospital for a month. One night, my mother dreamed that 10th Bat was being attacked by pemoeda. She decided that if we had to die, then we’d stay together till then. She picked me up from the hospital and carried me on her back to a place where a ‘weapon carrier’ was ready to take us back to 10th Bat.

The day after returning to the camp, it was indeed attacked from the police barracks behind it, now housing the notorious Indonesian ‘Banteng Hitam’ (Black Buffalo) brigade. Its notoriety lay in the fact that officers and men of the brigade were not operating as a legal police force, but rather as a disorganized group of henchmen and assassins of the pemoeda.

The Attack and Its Aftermath

During the attack on the 10th Bat, officers and soldiers of the ‘Banteng Hitam’ brigade climbed into the trees in the yard of the police barracks and started firing into the camp from there. Behind our house grew a ‘karet’ (rubber) tree, the branches of which hung over the wall between 10th Bat and the police barracks. The mothers, who had no weapons at all, were afraid that the assassins would climb into these branches to enter the camp and that was exactly what happened. All the children were quickly put into the only room without windows. At the moment that 10th Bat was attacked, a truck full of Ambonese soldiers drove past. Attracted by the shooting at the scurrying civilians and the desperate cries of the residents of 10th Bat, the Ambonese commander checked further. The group of Ambonese then started firing heavily at the front of the police barracks.

Apparently, the assassins had not only fired from the trees growing in their own yard, but had also entered the 10th Bat, apparently to counterattack and kill as many women and children as possible. The Ambonese kept the Banteng Hitam Brigade busy shooting at the front of the police barracks, but in the meantime a heavy military truck, equipped with two heavy saw braces at the front, drove right through a huge wooden gate in the high wall that separated the back garden of our camp from that of the police barracks. In this way, a direct connection was made between the police barracks and our camp, and the accomplices could now also be attacked from behind.

Although the residents were protected by that high wall, they could now hear everything in detail. The intense machine gun fire, the screaming women and children of the Banteng Hitam officers and soldiers who were ordered to leave their apartments and gather in the courtyard. As soon as the families came out, a salvo was fired into the barracks, immediately followed by screams of the women. At first, we thought they were being shot, but as soon as the women left a barrack, it was riddled with gunfire to eliminate the remaining henchmen. It was a deafening, hellish noise. Soon, it became eerily quiet. Apparently, the remaining henchmen had surrendered or were all killed. In the fight, every member of that infamous Banteng Hitam brigade, including the commander, was killed by the group of Ambonese.

When it was all over, the children, including myself, who were now allowed to come out of the small room that housed them, saw dozens of dead accomplices lying between the houses and bushes. The Ambonese soldiers physically checked every body to determine that they were indeed dead.

At the end of 1945, 10th Bat was closed and all residents had to seek shelter outside the camp. My mother and I were given shelter in the Hooper family pavilion on Jalan Mangerai, a side street of Matramanlaan. My grandparents were fortunately able to find shelter in a pavilion of the pharmacy ‘De Lange’. They continued to live there until we all moved to Semarang later.

Reunited After the War

At the end of 1946, after many wanderings, my father finally came home. After the Japanese capitulation on August 15, 1945, my father was taken to Tamuan in Burma to recover from the consequences of his four year captivity. Here he received my mother’s telegram via the Red Cross.

Epilogue

Of my four grandparents, only Grandpa Christiaan did not survive the war. Captured in Batavia in 1942, he was executed at Camp Ambarawa 7 in 1945. His name lives on at Kalibanteng War Cemetery, thanks to a fellow prisoner’s note. My maternal grandmother remained a source of comfort throughout my childhood. When I was still in high school in the Netherlands, I often cycled long distances just to be with her.

My mother, deeply affected by war trauma and the chaos of the bersiap, never recovered. I had hoped she could one day feel proud of me. My father returned late 1946 and lived under harsh conditions with the family until 1949. I always wished for more time together as father and son. To read more about Edward’s father’s experiences during and after WWII, please go to this link:  An Indo Profile: Scientist Edward E. E. Frietman – Part 1 – The Indo Project

Final Reflections

Putting into words the most painful part of my life – surviving WWII and the Bersiap – was daunting. Conversations with the 1940-1945 Foundation and the Civil War Victims Benefits Act 1940-1945 only added doubt about the accuracy of my memories. I needed confirmation that what I remembered truly happened.

In 2014, after posting an online inquiry about who else had been imprisoned in the 10th Battalion in Batavia, I received a response from our old neighbor, Erich Kind, from Leonielaan 36. I asked if he could help verify my recollections. He was happy to do so, mentioning that he had donated his manuscript Tempo Doeloe (no. 056/2005) to the Royal Veterans’ Home in Bronbeek and fully supported my efforts to document these memories. While my account had some imperfections—mainly in how events were linked—Erich confirmed the accuracy of my memories of the 10th Battalion and even offered helpful corrections.

This triptych, now published by The Indo Project, serves three purposes: to mark the 80th anniversary of the end of WWII in Southeast Asia, to honor the Dutch-Indies community, and to offer something of value to future generations.

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

This is the third and final installment of a three-part series featuring Edward Frietman’s firsthand experiences during the end of World War II and the turbulent Bersiap period. Read the first and second parts of this series.

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.

The Indo Project extends its sincere thanks to Edward Frietman for entrusting us with his story, and to Ingrid McCleary for her valuable editing support.