April 25, 2009
April 15, 2009
Contents
Introduction1. The Stick and the Piano (1916-1934)
2. The Jazz Man of East Java (1935-1939)
3. Anna (1939-1940)
4. Waiting for War (January-December 1941)
5. The Onslaught (December 1941 - March 1942)
6. Into the Inferno (March-December 1942)
7. Hell Ship to Singapore (January 1943)
8. Changi (January 1943)
9. The Death Railway (January-December 1943)
10. Prison Camp Musician (January 1944 - August 1945)
11. The Ordeal of Anna and Margie (March 1942 - November 1945)
12. Liberation and Heartbreak (August 1945 - May 1946)
13. From A to Z (June 1946 - January 1947)
14. In the Oil (January 1947 - May 1948)
15. "Margie, It's Your Father!" (1949-1950)
16. Clowning (1950-1954)
17. New Start in South Africa (1954-1969)
18. Blaze Away (1969-1974)
19. Old Comrades (1974-1982)
20. With Barely a Sound (1982-1985)
21. Visit to a "Bloody Big Country"(1985)
22. Uneasy Retirement (1985-1988)
23. Veertje (1988-1992)
24. Like the Mist and the Rain (1992)
Epilogue
Art by J. Chevallier, 1946 / Han Samethini Collection
Introduction
Opa Henry and Mom (San Leandro, California, 1985)Han Samethini Collection
His name was Han Samethini. To me he was always Opa Henry, opa being the Dutch word for "grandpa," and Henry the Americanized form of the French Henri (the proper first name he almost never used). He was my maternal grandfather. Mom wrote to him regularly, and he wrote back in letters that looked curiously like hers, with a fluid, cursive script that was small and closely spaced. Sometimes he sent audio cassettes instead of letters, and I remember Mom calling me over one day to hear words addressed particularly to the grandson. From the cassette player came a deep voice speaking with a heavy Dutch accent:
Hello, Robin! This is your Opa Henry. You can call me Opa, you can call me Grandpa. Just so long as you don't call me Baldy or something.
As a boy I almost envied my friends for having grandfathers they could see on weekends or holidays. Certainly my sister Mylene and I grew up enjoying frequent visits to Oma (Grandma) Anna, Henry's ex-wife, who lived within easy driving distance of our home in California. But Opa remained a distant, mysterious, and faintly exotic figure. We knew that he lived in South Africa, a fact which for me always conjured images of lions and giraffes. We heard also that he had been a musician and even a circus clown. This compensated somewhat for his absence because he was, at least, a very interesting absentee grandfather.
Most astonishing was the claim that he had helped to build the Bridge on the River Kwai, the famous World War II Japanese railroad bridge constructed in Thailand by Allied prisoners of war. And not only did he serve as a forced laborer, he also entertained his fellow captives with the accordion. Mom emphasized the latter point with some pride as our family sat down to watch a television broadcast of the David Lean movie. I couldn't have been more than eight years old at the time, and I found much of the dialogue boring or elusive. But when the story progressed to the celebration of the newly completed bridge, and the ragged prison camp orchestra played while POWs danced on the bamboo-and-thatch stage, I felt a sense of wonder: He was there. Opa Henry was actually there.
Years later, in 1981, I said much the same thing as I gazed out over the shoreline and placid blue-green waters of the Makassar Strait: He was here. Here, 39 years before, in the town of Balikpapan on the island of Borneo. I could envision the sea black with landing barges disgorging wave after wave of shrieking, fanatical Japanese infantry. Here I imagined my grandfather must have stood, part of a forlorn and outnumbered Dutch garrison, with little hope of escape and none of victory. What were his thoughts as the enemy closed in? How did he survive to be taken prisoner?
In his letters to me Opa Henry always brushed off such questions. But when he came to America in 1985 (his first and only visit), he recounted a few of his Burma Railway experiences. He had been to the bridge at Tamarkan, the "Kwai" bridge, but declared it was nearly finished when he saw it. He'd worked elsewhere on the Railway, under conditions and treatment that no film of the 1950s would have dared - or been permitted - to show. His recollections of beatings, hunger, and the insane, pointless cruelty of the Japanese guards, were like terrible things swimming up from murky depths. He said to me, in words I will never forget, "You have no idea what you will do to survive, what you will eat, until you are in such a place as that."
Yet, odd as this seems, he volunteered even less information concerning his prewar jazz career in the Dutch East Indies. Nor was he forthcoming about his postwar years on the stage and in the circus in Europe and South Africa. I'd expected him to be a raconteur, overflowing with stories that would confirm the Opa Henry of family lore: the brilliant improvisational musician, the wacky comedian, the irrepressible showman whose spirit could not be crushed even by starvation and slave labor. It puzzled me that such a public man, accustomed to playing in front of crowds, had so little to say about his performances, his art, and his profession.
Not that he was dour. Quite the opposite! Samethini delighted in laughter, especially the laughter of others, dispensing jokes and humorous observations as if from an inexhaustible reservoir. But he was a humble, almost self-effacing man when talk turned to his accomplishments, or his misfortunes. It was admirable, and frustrating at the same time, that he kept the most fascinating elements of his personal history carefully hidden.
When my grandfather died in 1992 in faraway South Africa, it seemed that his story would never be told. I inherited his POW scrapbook, which contained intriguing photographs and documents, but alas, no explanatory notes to help me make sense of them. In 2001 I toyed with the idea of creating a simple web page based on the scrapbook, but gave it up because my interpretation would have been little more than conjecture mixed with expressions of family pride.
Han Samethini Collection
All this changed in late 2006, when Mom handed me the bulk of her father's papers and photographs. The new material included a meticulously arranged album of photos and press clippings chronicling Han Samethini's musical career from the mid 1930s to the beginning of 1947. Leafing through the album, I said in wonder and exultation to the young man smiling with his accordion from the black-and-white images, "Here you are. Opa, I've found you!"
The rest has proceeded with unforeseen speed and success, thanks chiefly to this marvelous invention, the Internet. Without having to purchase an airline ticket or even leave my house, I've contacted sources all over the globe: distant kin, friends of the family who remember the events of the war, and scholars and researchers both professional and amateur. Beyond all initial expectations, I've corresponded with survivors of the Burma Railway. These men are revered in our family, along with all Allied veterans of the Second World War. Due to their generous assistance with this project, we have added reason to be grateful to them.
If I were asked to give a single reason for telling the story of Han Samethini, it would not be the desire to give him some measure of posthumous fame, nor would it be the expression of my longing to understand a relative who was almost a stranger to me (though both motivations play a part). The story should be told, I think, so that the work of my grandfather - the bringing of laughter and delight, especially to those who were troubled or despondent - might in some small way continue. It is a remarkable tale. I hope you will enjoy it.
Robin Kalhorn
Houston, Texas
December 4, 2008
The author posing with an Eclectus parrot(Eclectus roratus, native to the East Indies)
1. The Stick and the Piano (1916-1934)
Frank and Han Samethini (Bondowoso, Java, 1917)Frank Samethini Collection
Henri Jacques (Han) Samethini was born in the Netherlands East Indies, on the island of Java, on September 4, 1916. He was the younger son of Henri Alexander Samethini and Emma Wilhelmina Frederika Wijchel. Han's elder brother, Franceso Karel (Frank), was born on June 6, 1915.
Of Henri Sr. (born 1889 in Surabaya) we know little, save that he had a military upbringing and that he made his living as a business manager, first in the sugar industry and later in freight shipping. It is possible that he had early musical aspirations, and if so, this trait proved to be the decisive paternal influence on Henri Jr. [1]
Emma (born 1892 in Magelang) busied herself as a zealous promoter of drama and dance. Inspired by the performances and costumes of famed Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova, she eventually founded her own dance studio. Photographs of Han and Frank in stage costumes show how far the boys were induced to share their mother's enthusiasm. Doting and even domineering in her affections, she nevertheless enjoyed the full measure of her sons' love and devotion.
The Netherlands East Indies (click map to enlarge)
Sugar CanePhoto Source: Zoo Leven Wij in Indie
The Samethini home on the sugar plantation (circa 1920)Han Samethini Collection
The family home was situated on a sugar plantation in Bondowoso, and appears to have been more or less true to the type of Dutch colonial residence described by a contemporary American travel writer:
Their houses are usually big, one-storey buildings occupying a great deal of ground and set in the midst of the plants and flowers and trees of the tropics. There are no cellars in Java, but nearly every house has floors of cement or marble, raised to several feet above the earth. This is to guard against the little animals and insects which get into the houses despite every precaution. Meals are served in a large room in the centre, while the bedrooms are all open on a paved gallery....In front of this inner gallery is a large outer veranda that is roofed but open on both sides to catch any breeze that may blow. This is used as a reception room, and often another one parallel to it serves as the living room. The verandas are furnished for comfort and coolness. [2]
Frank and Han (circa 1920)Han Samethini Collection
In this home, at the age of five, Han commenced his first piano lessons under the stern supervision of his father. Han's daughter, Margie, comments:
[Henri Sr.] wanted Han to be a concert pianist, not realizing his hands were too small. When Han would miss notes he would be beaten with a small stick. [3]
Han's sister-in-law Elisabeth elaborates:
Once there was a performance planned in Malang and Han was to play his piano. While [he was] practicing his father would stand over him with a stick. If he made a mistake he would hit him on the head. He had hit Han so much that he was unable to play that night! His father of course was very remorseful and hadn't realized he had hit him so hard. [4]
Map of the eastern half of Java, showing the location of Bondowoso (click map to enlarge)
The green, terraced hills of BondowosoPhoto Source: www.eastjava.com
This is not to suggest that Han's childhood was somber or oppressive. He and Frank grew up a virtual paradise, the beautiful, green land of rural East Java. This was a lush country of cane fields, forests, hills, and small streams, a realm fit for boyhood adventures. Tigers still roamed there in the 1920s and around 1930, at the age of 16 or 17, Frank shot one with his rifle. [5]
Though unlike in appearance and temperament - Han being more reserved and studious, and Frank more outgoing and adventurous - the Samethinis were devoted brothers who stuck together through many scrapes and shenanigans. A few stories of those times are handed down by Elisabeth:
If one got into trouble, the other would immediately come to his aid. There wasn't the competition as one would expect, just the strong bond of love for one another. This bond remained throughout their years....
As young brothers on a large sugar plantation in Bondowoso, Java, they got into plenty of mischief. Their father was busy working and they had a guest house. Mother loved cooking for the guests, and her dishes were famous. They were a social couple and Frank recollected stories to me from those happy early childhood days.
Railway yard at a Java sugar plantationPhoto Source: Netherlands Institute for War Documentation
There was a railway track across the plantation to transfer the sugar from one end of the property to the sale yards. It had a "hand pumped trolley car". One day the boys decided this could be fun and pumped the trolley car along the tracks, unaware that a train was coming! Their father raced toward the boys, and when the boys saw their father coming, cursing and waving his arms, they ran away. In a panic, Frank climbed the nearest tree, and was so afraid of his father's reprimand that he piddled from the tree onto his father's head. His father looked up and was so astounded that he laughed and laughed. There was a huge sigh of relief from their father that his boys were safe, and the boys were relieved that Father had laughed and had not spanked them!
Another story was of a fight at school between Frank and some other boys. Han, hearing the commotion, came of course to Frank's rescue by jumping on the back of the offender. When Han was consequently sat upon, Frank came to his rescue, and so the fight continued until the headmaster intervened. This story was told and retold because it was quite a big fight, and their father had to come to school the next day to sort things out. I daresay the boys enjoyed it thoroughly. [6]
The tale of the school fight gives us our first glimpse of Han's inner toughness and doughty sense of humor. The latter quality, especially in its playful and self-mocking forms, was to become his signature trait as a performer. It balanced his serious side and enabled him to overcome every adversity. For all the harshness of his early piano lessons, Han took to music as his first love, studying and practicing diligently (in contrast to Frank, who gladly bowed out whenever he could). Music became his abiding comfort and the language in which he best expressed himself. We may imagine the fearsome little stick held ever more loosely in his father's hand, the taskmaster's frown upturning to a smile of pride and delight, as Han's playing grew steadily more skillful and confident. There was no denying the boy had talent.
Frank and Han in The Hague (mid 1920s)Frank Samethini Collection
Encouraged by this progress, and determined to give him the best training they could afford, Han's parents sent him to Holland. There, from 1930 to 1934, he studied classical music (performance, composition, and arrangement) at the Conservatory in The Hague.[7] These classes must have been contemporaneous with his general education, taken in the late afternoon or early evening after a full day of regular school. [8] The particulars of Frank's education are not known. The photo taken in The Hague, when he and Han were around the age of 12 and 11 respectively, suggests that both brothers studied in Holland. [9]
Frank and Han (circa 1930)Photo probably taken in Malang
Frank Samethini Collection
More Family Photographs:
Han's parents: Emma and Henri Samethini (circa 1912)Frank Samethini Collection
Later photos of Henri Sr. and Emma (probably mid-1930s)Han Samethini Collection
Dance teacher Emma poses in two of her ballet costumes (1920s)Han Samethini Collection
The boys costumed as fishermenFrank Samethini Collection
"Beggar and Gentleman"Frank Samethini Collection
Han and playmates wading in the river BrantasPicture taken in Malang, circa 1925
Han Samethini Collection
Footnotes
[1] There is no direct evidence of Henri Sr.'s musical accomplishments. But in describing Han's mature skills, Philip Brugman (who worked with him as a POW entertainer in Chungkai camp, Thailand) remarked that the younger Samethini's talent "was in his genes because his father played in a dance hall." H.L. Leffelaar / E. van Witsen, Werkers aan de Burma-spoorweg (1982 Uitgeverij T. Wever, bv Franeker), p. 249.
[2] Frank G. Carpenter, Java and the East Indies (New York: Doubleday, Page & Co., 1923), pp. 158-159.
[3] Margie Samethini-Bellamy, personal e-mail.
[4] Christine Chapman, "Thoughts and Recollections of Elisabeth (Lisa) Samethini", personal e-mail, January 2008. Christine Chapman (nee Samethini) is the daughter of Frank and Elisabeth, and Han Samethini's niece.
[5] Frank's successful tiger hunt had a humorous but potentially tragic aftermath. Elizabeth relates: "There were many tigers in the area at the time, and the boys had learned to shoot a rifle. Frank loved every opportunity he could get. One day Frank (who was 16 or 17 years old at the time) ventured out by himself and actually shot a tiger who was caught off guard in the nearby woods. He ran home proudly to tell his father, who was horrified and asked his son, "Is your rifle cartridge now empty?" To which Frank replied, "Sure, Dad" and pulled the trigger. A bullet fired from the cartridge and narrowly missed two guests who were sitting nearby." Christine Chapman, Ibid.
[6] Ibid.
[7] Werkers aan de Burma-spoorweg, p. 249. Brugman does not specify which of the two Hague conservatories Samethini attended. There was the famous Royal Conservatory (Koninklijk Conservatorium), which still exists, and a less prestigious music school that has since closed.
[8] A 1946 Personeelsstaat (army personnel record) lists Han's education level as MULO II, with a diploma in stenotypy. MULO is a Dutch acronym signifying More Extended Elementary Education, equivalent to American high school. Copy of this document kindly furnished by Mr. L.H.G. Belleflamme of Stichting Administratie Indonesische Pensioenen (SAIP).
[9] Judging by the varied historical and philosophical allusions in The Sky Looked Down (Frank Samethini's World War II memoir, published in blog form in 2009), he received an education as good as Han's, if perhaps less specialized.
2. The Jazz Man of East Java (1935-1939)
Emma Samethini's dance school show group (Malang, 1935)
Class pianist "Hanny" Samethini sits front and center.
In the back row stand Emma (4th from left) and Frank (5th from right)
Class pianist "Hanny" Samethini sits front and center.
In the back row stand Emma (4th from left) and Frank (5th from right)
Photo Source: Moesson magazine / www.onzeplek.nl
At age 18, Han returned to the East Indies as a fully trained musician. But home was no longer the rural plantation in Bondowoso. The once mighty sugar industry on Java had dwindled in the Great Depression. [1] Whether Henri Sr. lost his plantation management job in the widespread layoffs, or resigned to pursue a different career, we cannot say, but by 1935 the family had relocated to the city of Malang. The prospects for a young classical pianist at this time can be guessed from Han's abject employment in his mother's dance studio. There he played the monotonous class music to which Emma's students repetitively practiced their steps. His creative spirit chafed at this dull work:
He totally hated it. Accompanying dance classes is the worst that can be done to a true artist, as you have to play to a strict beat, strict measures. [2]
Han had greater ambitions and different aims than those envisaged by his parents. The classics he loved, but his imagination was fired by jazz and swing music, radiating across the Pacific from America. He began experimenting with these new musical forms, to the exasperation of Henri Sr. Unyielding, but tiring of fruitless arguments, Han secretly joined an octet jazz combo, John Kiliaan & His Band, which was the regular dance band at the Hotel Centrum. [3]
John Kiliaan & His Band at the Hotel Centrum (circa 1936)
Band leader/saxophonist Kiliaan sits in the front row, second from left.
Samethini stands at far right, behind the grand piano.
The other six musicians are unidentified.
Han Samethini Collection
Band leader/saxophonist Kiliaan sits in the front row, second from left.
Samethini stands at far right, behind the grand piano.
The other six musicians are unidentified.
Han Samethini Collection
Closeup from same photo
Kiliaan and his men were versatile musicians who exchanged instruments. With their help, Han learned to play the saxophone, string bass, drums, and accordion. The earliest group picture we have shows Han standing, unsurprisingly, at the grand piano. But he became a virtuoso on the piano accordion. The difficulties for a pianist in mastering the latter instrument are outlined by American accordionist Alan Sharkis:
The two instruments share a keyboard (or part of one) but the similarity ends there. There are stylistic differences, differences brought about because of the relative advantages and disadvantages of the two instruments, differences in notation, differences in the way musical expression is achieved, differences in the position of the player with respect to the instrument, differences in the care and feeding of the instruments, and so on.
Let's start with the bellows. Pianists vary dynamics (loud and soft) by varying the force behind their touch, and with pedals. Accordionists vary dynamics by applying more or less "squeeze" or "pull" to the bellows. Accordion technicians tell me that they know when an accordion brought to them for repair is being played by a pianist! Pianists can sustain a note for just a short time, even with the sustain pedal depressed. Accordionists can sustain a note for as long as they can move the bellows. Related to that, of course, is the problem of phrasing. The of the bellows of an accordion as related to the breathing organs of a singer. The singer must learn to breath between musical phrases, and certainly not in the middle of a note; and the accordionist must learn not to reverse the direction of the bellows in the middle of a note or phrase, because for the fraction of a second that the bellows are not moving, the note or phrase will be interrupted.
Diagram of accordion bass buttons, Stradella layout
(Click image to enlarge)
(Click image to enlarge)
Second, let's consider the keyboard and bass buttons. The largest piano accordions have 45 notes in the treble (most have 41) as opposed to the possibility of having nearly all the 88 notes of piano for use in the treble, even if most selections don't call for that. But the bigger difference is in the approach that the accordion student must take to learning the instrument. The treble keyboard (right hand) of a piano accordion is vertical and can only be seen by the player if the player bends their head down to look at it (not recommended). But the bass buttons of an accordion cannot be seen by the accordionist at all! There are various layouts of those buttons...but let's assume that the layouts are logical in a musical sense. There has to be some kind of tactile clue, and all accordions have either a depression carved into the C bass button, or a rhinestone, something that the accordionist can feel. Let's assume that the layout is the one called Stradella, the most common layout. This layout gives the accordionist both single bass notes and ready-made chords, but not the variety of chords that he'd get using his left hand on a piano keyboard. So, while the system is easy for a pianist to learn, it does have limitations and the pianist-turned-accordionist must find ways around those limitations.
Most accordionists today, if they read music, read lead sheets (the melody line is in a staff in treble clef and chord symbols are printed above that staff). Some accordionists are trained to recognize the chord in the bass clef of a piano score, and there are definite advantages to that system. However, there is a system of accordion notation (AAA notation) that treats the bass clef differently from that of a piano score. A pianist would find it very strange....
An accordion of [Samethini's] era, like the one in those pictures, would have been heavier than a modern instrument. He'd have to have that weight on his shoulders while playing, something he wouldn't have to do with a piano. So, the sitting and standing postures and positions would have to be learned.... [4]
Cabaret at the Hotel Centrum (circa 1936)John Kiliaan & His Band standing in the back row under the "HC" logo. Click photo to enlarge, and note the variety of costumes and makeup: Spanish, Scottish, Tyrolean, Pierrot and Pierret (cabaret clowns), an Arab, sailors, and performers in blackface. One cabaretier wears a lei. Hawaiian music was extremely popular in the East Indies during the Thirties.
Han Samethini Collection
Closeup from same photoBelow: Five photographs of a John Kiliaan Band promotional appearance at a car dealership (circa 1938). Kiliaan poses with his clarinet. Samethini bears his piano accordion with pride. The two Studebaker models shown are the 1936 Dictator (or 1936 President) and the 1937 President. The dealership would have been located in a sizable town, most likely Malang or Surabaya. [5]
Han Samethini Collection
Han Samethini Collection
Modern photo of a well preserved 1937 Studebaker President 4-Door Cruising SedanPhoto Source: Oldcarandtruckpictures.com
Whether playing for dance parties or cabarets, at the Centrum ballroom or on a car dealership lot, young Samethini honed his skills until he was ready to become a band leader in his own right. Henri Sr. by this time had conceded defeat in the contest of wills, it being evident that Han was going to make his own way in the world.
At intervals Han was compelled to exchange his accordion for a rifle, Dutch law requiring all fit European males to serve in the colonial militia. He'd reported for basic infantry training in December 1935, and proved himself a competent soldier by the relatively unexacting standards of a reserve force. The record shows he was assigned to the artillery and promoted to the rank of corporal before going on extended leave in May 1936. He would be called up again for one-month hitches in 1937 and 1939. [6]
Han's work with John Kiliaan seems to have lasted from 1936 to 1938. Sometime during this period the Samethini family moved to Surabaya, the great port city and naval base of East Java. Their house was at 35 Brantasstraat (Brantas street), so named for the nearby Brantas River that flowed, like its conjoined twin, the Kali Mas, through the town and into the Madura Strait. A portion of the house served as Emma's dance studio.
Two aerial views of Surabaya as it appeared in the late 1930sPhoto Source: Zoo Leven Wij in Indie
Map of Surabaya(Click map to enlarge)
Image Source: ferdinandus.com
The Kali MasPhoto Source: skyscrapercity.com
Tanjong Perak, the harbor of SurabayaPhoto Source: malang.endonesa.net
Han flourished in bustling Surabaya, a city noted even today for its energy and fast place of life. Like most musicians, he worked at a day job, being employed at K.K. Knies, a seller of musical instruments. We can only speculate on his duties there, but certainly his training and varied experience would have made him an ideal salesman, able to demonstrate his wares as well as talk up their virtues. Nights and weekends he devoted to his true calling. Forming his own combo with a pianist, trumpeter, string bassist, and drummer, the former plantation boy from Bondowoso entertained patrons at night spots and social functions as Han Samethini & His Spirituals.
In 1936 or 1937 the family was riven by the divorce of Han's parents. The bitterness of the separation can be guessed by Emma's destruction or mutilation of every photo of Henri Sr. in her possession. Han and Frank sided with their mother, shutting their father out of their lives. In the settlement Henri Sr. left the house to his ex-wife.
Han Samethini & His Spirituals (1939)
Han Samethini Collection
Han Samethini Collection
A trio of articles, probably clipped from a Surabaya daily, shows the progress of Han's career in the period 1938-1939. The second article is fragmentary. Translated into English, they read:
(Click to enlarge)Han Samethini Collection
Congress is Dancing
Performance by "Culture"
The long and tiring meetings of the 7th IEVVO [Women's Organization of the Indo European Association] had a pleasant interruption of several hours of relaxation and entertainment. The hosting department of Soerabaja organized a party at the Institute of Culture which was a great success.
By 9:00 p.m. the intimate upstairs hall of the Toenjoengan Dance Academy was fully occupied by the IEVVO ladies and their guests. Soerabaja's mayor, Mr. Fuchter, was also present and the IEV [Indo European Association] was as usual represented by Mr. Buurman van Vreeden.
Much of the evening's success was due to dance professor G. Sebok, whose students performed several excellent dance numbers which were previously shown in performance at the Kunstkring in October, so they won't be discussed here again.
During intermission, and after the performance, the dance floor was in good use to the excellent dance music of The Spirituals, led by H. Samethini.
A special attraction was the free lesson in the Lambeth Walk given by Mr. Sebok, which had the entire ballroom filled with dancers executing these happy and merry steps.
(Click to enlarge)Han Samethini Collection
Boys' Orphanage 80th Anniversary
Party on Embong Malang [Avenue]
Stage Performance and Ball
[First portion of article missing]
Next came a very well presented stage performance, each number of which was proof of excellent rehearsing. There was a Ribbon Dance choreographed by Miss Matimoe, a Tango Fantasy by Mr. Rellum, songs by the JWI Sisters and the Hill Billy Boys, an outstanding piano contribution by Mr. Samethini, and some entertaining one-act plays by Mr. Budding. Every number received a hearty round of applause, and several had to be repeated.
The performance ended at 10:30 p.m. and all participants were honored on the stage by Mr. Scholten. The ladies received flowers and Piet v.d. Hof received a laurel wreath for his efforts. Once this was concluded the stage was transformed into a ballroom, and until the wee hours of the morning the smooth floor was well used to the excellent strains of the well known band, The Spirituals.
(Click to enlarge)Han Samethini Collection
Birthday Celebration for Her Royal Highness Princess Beatrix
On the occasion of HRH Princess Beatrix's first birthday, a ball was organized on January 31 [1939] and the Harmonie [Club].
The large ballroom was beautifully decorated for the event, with the color orange as the main motif - but it looked more like an intimate dancing room [i.e., a small public party room, like a cocktail bar with a dance floor] than a ballroom.
The music was performed by the well known H. Samethini and His Spirituals from Soerabaja, and their contribution was one of the main reasons for the evening's success.
At midnight the band played the Wilhelmus [Dutch national anthem] and everyone joined in the song.
The Club's president, Mr. J.W. v. Rijn, then spoke, mentioning the fact that they were all gathered here to mark a joyous event. Even though the government had not deemed the birthday worthy of proclaiming a national holiday, the Club management thought it would be better not to let the occasion pass unnoticed, and therefore this celebration was organized. He wished everyone a great evening and concluded with three cheers for Princess Beatrix and the Royal Family.
The broke the official atmosphere and the party really got underway, not slowing down until 3:00 a.m. It was an old fashioned party with many wonderful memories to treasure. [7]
Sister-in-law Elisabeth expresses the view from the dance floor in those far-off, blissful days:
Han had his own dance band in Surabaya, and often Frank and I would dance to his music. Frank was so proud of his brother and the crowd loved his music. [8]
Frank Samethini, writing in the evocative present tense, describes the milieu of a Saturday evening in colonial Surabaya:
Day is done, darkness has fallen, the worst of the heat gone. Pastel-coloured lampshades shine gently through a filigree of potplants and shrubs. In the warm, scented evening we read and talk out in front on the open porch. A thin spiral of grey smoke eddies up from a coil of mosquito repellent burning on a saucer on the floor. A wide-eyed brown kitten stalks, with great display of fuss, an imaginary prey between the magnolias. Back in the house the clock ding-dongs through soft radio music. The light circle of the porch lamp does not quite reach the dark hibiscus hedge at the front gate, where a lone cricket chirps incessantly. It is Saturday evening, after dinner time. All the news is read, all events of the day discussed, bemoaned or laughed about.
Sunset on the north coast of Java (late 1930s)Photo Source: Zoo Leven Wij in Indie
A drive is then suggested and agreed upon. Soon we have joined the long line of motor cars out on the road for a little cruise to the entertainment district of Surabaya and on to the harbour for an hour of cool, refreshing sea breeze. The hood of the car is let down to make the most of the cool evening air. The motor sings, the wheels fly with a soft burr. Tall arc lights are caught in a dull shine moving along the the gleaming body of our car. Everyone is in the lighthearted mood of a Saturday evening, the whole night in front and all the free Sunday after that. When we enter Palm Lane we spot a burst of red neon of the left side. That's the "Tabarin" bar and dancing establishment, closed now, its opening time of ten o'clock catering to the after-theatre and supper folk. Opposite is the "Shanghai" restaurant, adorned with strings of pastel-coloured Chinese lamps on the open terrace. Munching and drinking people served by wooden-faced Indonesian waiters deftly balancing trays laden with delicacies. At the front of the restaurant a few native boys carry boxes with cigarettes loiter about. They will be there the whole night. On the corner of Palm Lane and Simpang Road, the Maxim Cinema blazes in floodlights, flanked by a file of Fiat Balilla taxis waiting for the end of the first session. The traffic signal switches to red, halting our car with a silent throb of its motor. We are facing the whitewashed facade and marble floors of the Simpang Club, select and suave, its members restricted to a better salaried class of people. Cozy little lampshades glow on small wicker tables on patios in front, where gentlemen with their lady companions are seated, sipping an aperitif or after-dinner coffee and liqueur. Blue cigar smoke and, now and then, a quiet sparkle of jewelry. Tyres crunch on the gravelled drive to the carpeted club entrance. The solid snap of an expensive automobile's door. New guests have arrived.
The TunjunganPhoto Source:
The signal flashes to green. Our route goes by the park. In the distance strings of orange lights adorn the bandstand from which come muffled snatches of drums and clashing cymbals. We drive through the Tunjungan now with its numerous bars, hotels and theatres. The brilliant shop windows of the newly opened Japanese department store Tjijoda, and the more soberly illuminated facade of Whiteway Laidlaw. High above in the night air, the jumble of multi-coloured neon advertising, motionless or in running flashes. Further down the road, Town Hall Gardens with trees full of red, white and blue lights. Something must be on again there is Town Hall Gardens, where the small-income man finds diversion in word, music and dance. Perhaps a jubilee or congress of sorts, doubtlessly celebrated with endless speeches and a boring play. Then, to top it off, a ball with the inevitable Hawaiian band with its guitars twanging sweet melodies of moonlight and dreams come true in Waikiki and Honolulu. Girls, some in rather garish coloured dress, will try to follow the astonishingly complicated dance maneuvers of their escorts in suits of every taste and shade.
A bar in the TunjunganPhoto Source:
Entering downtown, the night seems here deeper and still, with myriads of tiny moths circling the globes of tall lamp posts on William's Quay and Red Bridge, strangely quiet and deserted at this hour. An oil wick flutters in the small cabin of a native barge on the dark river. Glowing pinpoints light up and darken again in the porticoes and doorways of the locked up business houses along the quay, where Madurese wharf labourers are smoking their favourite cheroots of clove-saturated maize leaf. Proud and independent, spending the night outdoors on a bed of jute bags, anywhere they may fancy, rather than having to return dutifully to the one and same address.
Finally we reach the Heads and the car is brought to a halt. At the mouth of the Brantas the last ferry boat from Madura eases along her berth with a deep throb of her engines, her green and red lights shining through billows of swirling steam. High above, invisible in the darkness, a night bird cries for its mate. Far out in the Roads a yellow beacon winks slowly with measured intervals across a sea which lies there serene and peaceful. The Western Fairway, between two citadels armed to the teeth, Fort Menari and Fort Piring, their big guns rendering suicidal any attempt to enter the harbour by an aggressor, whoever it may be.
Another car pulls up near where we are. For a while we hear the intonation of its passengers filter through the mild sea breeze. They laugh a little, then fall silent. So pleasingly quiet it is here.
This town, this beloved Surabaya, twinkling its lights, breathing under the stars. [9]
Silhouette cartoon by Mieke Dusseldorp, 1946Han Samethini Collection
These idyllic nocturnal scenes give no hint of the greater darkness about to engulf the Netherlands and her East Indies colony. On September 1, 1939 Nazi Germany invaded Poland. Britain and France declared war on Germany two days later. Holland, neutral but wary, mobilized her forces and prepared for the worst. In the Far East, amidst the cold waters of the North Pacific, brooded the colossus that was Imperial Japan. The Japanese had absorbed Manchuria, and now their armies were overrunning eastern China.
Han may have regarded these developments with foreboding as the 1930s drew to a close, but he was not a worrier by nature. Moreover, he was about to acquire an interest deeper and dearer to him than any music.
Footnotes
[1] Between 1929 and 1935 the number of sugar factories on Java had fallen from 179 to 45, and the land area planted to cane shrank from 200,831 hectares to 27,578. Figures cited in The Cambridge History of Southeast Asia, Vol. 2, Part One, pp. 183-184.
[2] Comment by Margie Samethini-Bellamy, herself a ballet teacher and choreographer (personal e-mail).
[3] There was more than one hotel in the East Indies called the Centrum. Samethini's albums contain no exterior photographs of the structure to help us identify this particular establishment. The present day Hotel Tugu-Blitar (built in 1850 and formerly the Centrum) is a likely candidate, being approximately 90 minutes' drive from Malang. Coincidentally, Han's paternal grandmother, Lucy Rondeau, ran a hotel in Blitar, perhaps this very one. Another possibility is the Centrum Hotel in Surabaya, on Jalan Bubutan.
[4] Comments posted by Alan Sharkis in the online discussion forum Piano Accordion Players of the World, November 29, 2008.
[5] Uittreksel (summary) of Han Samethini's military service record, drawn up by the Dutch Ministry of the Interior, Pensions Administration Department, on November 7, 1980. Copy of this document kindly furnished by Mr. L.H.G. Belleflamme of Stichting Administratie Indonesische Pensioenen (SAIP).
[6] Makes and models identified by Andrew Beckman of the Studebaker National Museum in South Bend, Indiana.
[7] The most prestigious Harmonie Club (Societeit de Harmonie) was on Rijswijkstraat in Batavia, but other cities and towns boasted identically named establishments. They were gathering places for high society.
[8] Christine Chapman, "Thoughts and Recollections of Elisabeth (Lisa) Samethini".
[9] Frank Samethini, The Sky Looked Down, Chapter 2: Surabaya.
3. Anna (1939-1940)
Han Samethini CollectionIt was during a gig in Surabaya, perhaps on such a starlit tropical evening as Frank described, that Han Samethini looked out onto the dance floor and glimpsed a flash of blond hair. A second, more attentive look detected a slender, graceful Eurasian girl dancing to the strains of his music. This was Anna Caroline Gunthardt. He fell in love with her, but she became the girlfriend of one of his band mates. That relationship ended unhappily and Han caught Anna on the rebound. [1]
The orphanage in Surabaya where Anna grew up (click to enlarge)Photo taken in 1999 by Margie Samethini-Bellamy
Anna's early life is obscure. She was born in the East Java town of Lumajang on August 26, 1915. Her parents died in the 1918 Influenza Pandemic, leaving her and three sibling to be raised in orphanages.[2] This harsh upbringing, so different from Han's youth of relative affluence and privilege, left its marks. Her blue eyes never shone without a trace of sadness. Yet she shared his delight in melody and, when happy, she hummed or sang in a mellifluous alto voice. She took ballet classes at Emma's dance school, performing well enough to be promoted to a teaching position.
Anna demonstrates the Battement Tendu Fondu Devant CambreHan Samethini Collection
Anna (far left) and other dancers in Arabian costume.From a production of Scheherazade perhaps?
Han Samethini Collection
Children's ballet performance put on by Emma's studio.Possibly Anna was their teacher.
Han Samethini Collection
The shadows in the world lengthened during the young couple's courtship. Over the radio and in the papers came the bulletins: Hitler's speech on January 30, 1940, in the Berlin Sportpalast, declaring that Poland's destruction ended only the first phase of the conflict, and that the second might open with "a war of bombs"; the German slaughter of merchant ships in the Atlantic and the North Sea, over 1 million tons sunk by the end of March; and, on April 9, the German invasion of Denmark and Norway.
Frank Samethini saw no cause for alarm. Hadn't Germany respected Holland's neutrality in the last war? And though Japan was nearer to the Indies, she appeared none the more menacing for it. As far as he was concerned, 1940 would be a year like any other, albeit more busy than usual:
In the Dutch East Indies there is no mobilisation but the call to report for military drill comes time after time. I am hardly back in civvies before I have to put on my uniform again for duty at another depot. They say we have to be ready. For what? For the Japanese, they say. For the little fellows with spectacles, barbers, watchmakers, you know, them!
They must be joking! The Japanese of all people, they must be aware of the terrific naval power Britain packs in Singapore. It would be madness! [3]
Frank Samethini (circa 1940) Frank Samethini Collection
Frank's outlook was particularly bright on the evening of May 9, the 18th birthday of his girlfriend, Elisabeth Boerman. The party held in her parents' home proved to be a memorable occasion. As the festivities continued well past midnight, the music and merry conversation gave way to a new sound:
Suddenly army trucks come rolling by, full of soldiers, and more come, the heavies with powerful, growling motors. Where are they going to at this time of night? Everybody gets on their feet. A glass smashes on the floor followed by a nervous, giggled apology. Her mother says it is nothing, it will bring luck. Then no more trucks come and the agitation dies. Returning to the lounge room I notice that the radio has ceased playing music. Instead I hear a single voice saying over and over again through the crackling of static, "The code word is Berlin!" [4]
In Europe the sun rose on May 1o to reveal 136 German divisions pouring into the Low Countries. Hitler's forces overwhelmed Holland in five days. Queen Wilhelmina took refuge in Britain, forming a government-in-exile and vowing to continue the fight. Apart from impounding a few German merchant vessels, the colonial government could do little to help.
Frank wrote:
The outlook in Western Europe is dark indeed, but the sun is still very much shining in the colonies, the only remaining strongholds. The tricolour proudly flying from the mast gives strength to the cry that "Holland shall rise again!" Yes, the four words grow into a dictum, an epigram stamped across postage stamps, flashed across the screen in the cinemas, engraved on buttons. In the meanwhile, the radio and tabloids warn, we must realise that the defence of our so profitable colonies rests now entirely in our own hands. Remember, they say, that we must be prepared to stand up and fight with everything we have. True, this "everything" is not much; alarmingly small indeed are our military forces. But isn't it the spirit that counts, the old Dutch fighting spirit when the call comes to go to war for Queen and Country? [5]
On June 6, Han reported once more for militia duty. Now that war with Japan had become a distinct possibility, the ground forces needed non-commissioned officers in quantity. Han was not conscripted into the regular army, but when he left on extended leave on June 30, he'd been promoted to sergeant.
Dutch morale rose that summer at the news of England's defiance to the aerial might of Germany's bomber force. "Parties for the benefit of the British war machine are the order of the day," recalled Frank. "Parties where lots of fun is to be had....The Battle of Britain, comfortably distant, is applauded and toasted upon."[6] Even in the East Indies the Spitfire, premier fighter of the Royal Air Force, became a symbol of resistance to Nazi aggression.[7] By the end of autumn it was clear that the Luftwaffe had failed to achieve air superiority over the British Isles, a necessary precondition for any German invasion. Britain stood as yet unconquered, a safe haven for the exiled Queen and her cabinet, and a base for the future liberation of Holland.
So it was with hope than Han Samethini and Anna Gunthardt wedded on Wedensday morning, December 11, 1940. They spent their honeymoon in the mountain resort town of Tretes. As they strolled through the highland coffee plantations, or picked their way among the rocks of the small stream behind their bungalow, the European war and its miseries must have seemed especially distant. One honeymoon photograph shows Han by the bungalow porch, pipe in hand, grinning from ear to ear like the happiest man alive.
The Marriage of Han and Anna
Wedding AnnouncementHan Samethini Collection
The wedding party poses for a photo at 35 BrantasstraatHan Samethini Collection
The wedding party sets out for the Stadhuis (Town Hall)Han Samethini Collection
On the grounds of the StadhuisHan Samethini Collection
Just married! Photo taken inside Town Hall following the civil ceremony.The bridesmaid at right is Elisabeth Boerman, Frank Samethini's future wife.
Han Samethini Collection
The Bubutan Church (Boeboetankerk) in Surabaya.The wedding service was held here, following the civil ceremony.
The Honeymoon
Newlyweds in the garden by their bungalow in Tretes, JavaHan Samethini Collection
The happiest man aliveHan Samethini Collection
Gathering fresh ingredients from the gardenHan Samethini Collection
Preparing a meal in the bungalow kitchenHan Samethini Collection
Posing by a mountain streamHan Samethini Collection
Footnotes
[1] Caught is perhaps too passive a term. Many years later, Han told his granddaughter Mylene that he marched into his rival's home and left with Anna in tow. The man must have been something of a rake, for Han declared in wonderment and disgust, "You would not believe the things I saw in that house!"
[2] The will stipulated that the Gunthardt orphans, Maggie, Godfried (called Piet), Anna, and Thomas, be kept together. Apparently none of their relatives was willing or able to take on four extra mouths to feed. The sisters grew up in the same orphanage. At age 18 Maggie died of tuberculosis, which must have been a crushing blow to Anna. The boys were sent to a different institution. Anna never saw her brothers again, but she did try to find them after World War II with the assistance of the Red Cross. She learned only that Godfried had moved to Thailand and married a Thai woman. It seems that Thomas married a woman from Sumatra and became an Indonesian citizen.
[3] The Sky Looked Down, Chapter 4: The Darkening Sky
[4] Ibid.
[5] Ibid.
[6] Ibid.
[7] Images of the Spitfire even graced collection boxes for a scrap aluminum drive in Tanjong Priok, Java.
T.Y. Hobma-Glastra, Bandjr: Een Indische Kroniek 1935-1950 (1988 Uitgeverij Lunet, Naarden), p. 37, photo plate 58. (Click the thumbnail image below to enlarge)
4. Waiting for War (January-December 1941)
The year 1941 began auspiciously for Han. He was a popular band leader, married to the woman he adored and pursuing the career he loved. The couple lived in the Brantasstraat house with Han's mother. This arrangement, though advantageous in some ways, must have been difficult for Anna. She was was on her mother-in-law's turf both domestically and in the dance school, dwelling in the shadow of Emma's often overbearing personality.
During this time Han assembled another jazz combo: a trio composed of himself, a string bass player, and a drummer. A local press clipping records one of their gigs, at a venue not quite as juvenile as the title suggests:
Han Samethini Collection
Performance for Children at "Culture"
Directed by Professor G. Sebok, students of the music, dance and gymnastics organization "Culture" gave a repeat performance of dances in a show aimed especially at children. Every seat in the cozy Culture hall was filled and the show was not only appreciated by the kids, but also by the adults, judging by the hearty applause following each number.
The young ladies S. van Milt and Th. Prottel performed again with great success and the small children shared in the acclaim, especially 4-year-old Antoinette Kruk, who danced a solo number. A special attraction was the "Protelli Puppet Show", directed by Miss Prottel, which entertained the audience after the dance recital and was received with enormous appreciation. This is a very unusual puppet show, with "live" heads on puppet bodies performing a simple but excellent program of songs in several languages. Afterwards the children joined in a ball organized just for them, followed by the adults making good use of their own dance floor to the music of the Samethini trio.
During this time Han assembled another jazz combo: a trio composed of himself, a string bass player, and a drummer. A local press clipping records one of their gigs, at a venue not quite as juvenile as the title suggests:
Han Samethini CollectionPerformance for Children at "Culture"
Directed by Professor G. Sebok, students of the music, dance and gymnastics organization "Culture" gave a repeat performance of dances in a show aimed especially at children. Every seat in the cozy Culture hall was filled and the show was not only appreciated by the kids, but also by the adults, judging by the hearty applause following each number.
The young ladies S. van Milt and Th. Prottel performed again with great success and the small children shared in the acclaim, especially 4-year-old Antoinette Kruk, who danced a solo number. A special attraction was the "Protelli Puppet Show", directed by Miss Prottel, which entertained the audience after the dance recital and was received with enormous appreciation. This is a very unusual puppet show, with "live" heads on puppet bodies performing a simple but excellent program of songs in several languages. Afterwards the children joined in a ball organized just for them, followed by the adults making good use of their own dance floor to the music of the Samethini trio.
The Samethini Trio
(Han at the piano)
Han Samethini Collection
Anna Samethini relaxing at home in Surabaya
Han Samethini Collection
Meanwhile preparations for war accelerated. Charged with defending an archipelago spread over 735,000 square miles, the Royal Netherlands Indies Army (KNIL) could muster 85,000 regular and auxiliary troops. This was a total strength equivalent to only four U.S. Army divisions, and the KNIL's weaponry was mostly outdated. The navy and air force, despite a strong esprit de corps, were likewise deficient in material. The loss of Holland precluded any resupply or reinforcement from the mother country. In the virtual absence of a domestic armaments industry, the colonial government turned to foreign sources, purchasing light tanks from Britain and warplanes from America.
Dutch military and civil authorities exuded confidence despite these weaknesses. They had ruled over their East Indies native subjects for close to three hundred and fifty years, troubled only by local rebellions that they had suppressed with little difficulty. The swift rise and apparent security of the other Western empires - the British in India, Burma, and Malaya, the French in Indochina, and the Americans in the Philippines - seemed to establish beyond all doubt that Asiatics were inferior to whites, especially in the arts of war. Modern, industrialized Japan might prove a tougher opponent, but to strike at the oil-rich Indies the Japanese would have to smash their way through an Anglo-American shield of fortresses, garrisons, and naval bases. To accomplish this, they must defeat the mighty U.S. Pacific Fleet, which would come sailing in wrath out of Pearl Harbor. Conventional wisdom dismissed any possibility of a Japanese victory.
Months go by. Months of speeches about our war effort, delivered by experts, well spoken gentlemen in dinner suits, one hand loosely tugging at the knot of their tie, emitting one gem of informative advice after another. Desk marshals, chuckling complacently, offer free detailed forecasts of what is going to happen to Japan should that country be so impertinent as to start anything. But they won't of course. The U.S.A. is seeing to that, no risk. [1]
"The U.S.A. is seeing to that, no risk."
Battleships of the U.S. Pacific Fleet
In May, Frank reported for NCO training in Bandung, West Java, the army's headquarters and chief arsenal:
May 1941 - First Battalion Infantry at Bandung, snap call-up for two months cadre training programme, consisting of hard drill, record time in stripping and assembling a machine gun, how to manipulate a bayonet that got stuck between ribs and how to salute an officer correctly. Within a month I am made corporal. [2]
Elisabeth was determined to accompany Frank on this trip. Her parents required marriage as the condition of this, to which the young couple happily agreed. They married in Bandung on June 4, the groom wearing his new corporal's uniform. The wedding was a bittersweet occasion, a purely civil ceremony arranged under hurried circumstances instead of the grand and beautiful celebration they had wished for. Of all their numerous family and friends, only Han and Anna were able to attend, serving as the legally required witnesses. [3]
Bandung, circa 1941
Photo Source: Zoo Leven Wij in Indie
Soldiers of the Royal Netherlands Indies Army (KNIL) on training maneuvers
Photo Source: ww2incolor.com
Cpl. Frank Samethini and his bride, Elisabeth.
June 4, 1941
Frank Samethini Collection
In July the Samethinis returned to Surabaya, where air raid drills had become a part of daily life. People did their best to ignore the signs of approaching calamity as they worked at their jobs, raised their children, and socialized with friends, savoring the routines of a normal world. Above all, they pursued their amusements with a defiant intensity:
Refusing to be worried by the ever worsening news, we welcome every excuse for going out to movies, parties or just some dancing. To the stirring beat of drums, percussion and bass we dance, lost to the world. Suddenly the sirens howl, waiters run to draw the curtains for another snap black-out practice in war-prepared Surabaya. Tactfully, the band leader switches to national songs and everybody is singing away about Holland's Flag, about Piet Hein who took the Spanish Silver Fleet and about the Girl By the Mill. People singing perhaps louder, smiling perhaps more than ever before....[4]
On August 29, Anna gave birth to a daughter, Margareth Jacqueline Samethini. A photo of newborn Margie taken at Darmo Hospital shows a proud Uncle Frank cradling her in his arms, doubtless looking forward to holding a daughter of his own. To celebrate, Han led his band in a live radio performance of the swing hit "Margie":
My little Margie,
I'm always thinking of you, Margie!
I'll tell the whole wide world I love you;
Don't forget your promise to me,
You know, I bought the home, the ring and everything,
So, my little Margie,
Margie, oh, you've been my inspiration,
Darling, you're the only one!
After all is said and done,
There is really only one,
Margie, Margie, it's you! [5]
Darmo Hospital, Surabaya
Birth Announcement
Han Samethini Collection
Frank holds his newborn niece
Han Samethini Collection
Posing with the new mother: Emma and Elisabeth at Anna's bedside
Home with the baby: Anna and Margie at the Brantasstraat house
Han Samethini Collection
Margie in the cradle
Han Samethini Collection
Fatherhood brought added responsibility and the need for better income that only a steady job could provide. For the sake of his family, Han set aside his musical career and obtained a clerical position at BPM, a leading Dutch petroleum company. The job demanded a relocation to Balikpapan, the great oil port and refining center on the east coast of Borneo. The Samethinis moved there in November. Their new residence was of a rather exotic construction: a house on stilts.
Despite its economic and strategic importance, Balikpapan was a cultural backwater compared to cosmopolitan Surabaya. It was also something of a frontier town, the surrounding country being home to Dayak tribesmen, lethal experts with their blowguns and poisoned darts. Han later recalled that he felt a sense of adventure living in Borneo. Yet often his thoughts must have strayed back to Surabaya. In all probability he intended to return there once he'd established himself at BPM, and earned sufficient experience and seniority to be granted a transfer back home.
Anna and Margie in Balikpapan, Borneo
Photo taken November 17, 1941
Han Samethini Collection
Petroleum tank farm
Photo Source: Zoo Leven Wij in Indie
Balikpapan oil port by day...
...and by night
Photo Source: Zoo Leven Wij in Indie
Dayak warriors
Perhaps Han dreamed of Surabaya in the earliest hours of Monday, December 8. At 1:49 AM, local time, the night air of Balikpapan would be filled with the buzzing and chirping of tropical insects. Across the Pacific, the time at Pearl Harbor was 7:49 AM on Sunday morning, December 7. Here the air reverberated with different sounds: bombs exploding on Kaneohe Naval Air Station, and a droning roar heralding the first wave of Japanese torpedo planes boring in towards Battleship Row.
Footnotes
[1] The Sky Looked Down. Chapter 4: The Darkening Sky.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Elisabeth writes that Han also was ordered to report for army training in May 1941, but his military record states he was still on extended leave at that time. Perhaps this call-up was accidentally omitted in the summary. It is equally likely that Han and Anna went to Bandung for the express purpose of being at the wedding. Given the brothers' strong mutual devotion, we may reasonably presume that Han would be there for Frank even if no other relatives could attend. The Sky Looked Down, Appendix A.
[4] The worsening news of July 1941 would have included reports of continuing German advances deep into Russia, the freezing of Japanese assets in Britain and the United States (July 25), and Japan's retaliatory freezing of U.S. assets the following day. The most ominous development was Japan's seizure of French Indochina, completed July 29. By this move the Japanese acquired forward air bases ideally situated to support attacks on Malaya and Singapore.
[5] Lyrics from the 1934 version of "Margie", by Cab Calloway.
(Han at the piano)
Han Samethini Collection
Anna Samethini relaxing at home in SurabayaHan Samethini Collection
Meanwhile preparations for war accelerated. Charged with defending an archipelago spread over 735,000 square miles, the Royal Netherlands Indies Army (KNIL) could muster 85,000 regular and auxiliary troops. This was a total strength equivalent to only four U.S. Army divisions, and the KNIL's weaponry was mostly outdated. The navy and air force, despite a strong esprit de corps, were likewise deficient in material. The loss of Holland precluded any resupply or reinforcement from the mother country. In the virtual absence of a domestic armaments industry, the colonial government turned to foreign sources, purchasing light tanks from Britain and warplanes from America.
Dutch military and civil authorities exuded confidence despite these weaknesses. They had ruled over their East Indies native subjects for close to three hundred and fifty years, troubled only by local rebellions that they had suppressed with little difficulty. The swift rise and apparent security of the other Western empires - the British in India, Burma, and Malaya, the French in Indochina, and the Americans in the Philippines - seemed to establish beyond all doubt that Asiatics were inferior to whites, especially in the arts of war. Modern, industrialized Japan might prove a tougher opponent, but to strike at the oil-rich Indies the Japanese would have to smash their way through an Anglo-American shield of fortresses, garrisons, and naval bases. To accomplish this, they must defeat the mighty U.S. Pacific Fleet, which would come sailing in wrath out of Pearl Harbor. Conventional wisdom dismissed any possibility of a Japanese victory.
Months go by. Months of speeches about our war effort, delivered by experts, well spoken gentlemen in dinner suits, one hand loosely tugging at the knot of their tie, emitting one gem of informative advice after another. Desk marshals, chuckling complacently, offer free detailed forecasts of what is going to happen to Japan should that country be so impertinent as to start anything. But they won't of course. The U.S.A. is seeing to that, no risk. [1]
"The U.S.A. is seeing to that, no risk."Battleships of the U.S. Pacific Fleet
In May, Frank reported for NCO training in Bandung, West Java, the army's headquarters and chief arsenal:
May 1941 - First Battalion Infantry at Bandung, snap call-up for two months cadre training programme, consisting of hard drill, record time in stripping and assembling a machine gun, how to manipulate a bayonet that got stuck between ribs and how to salute an officer correctly. Within a month I am made corporal. [2]
Elisabeth was determined to accompany Frank on this trip. Her parents required marriage as the condition of this, to which the young couple happily agreed. They married in Bandung on June 4, the groom wearing his new corporal's uniform. The wedding was a bittersweet occasion, a purely civil ceremony arranged under hurried circumstances instead of the grand and beautiful celebration they had wished for. Of all their numerous family and friends, only Han and Anna were able to attend, serving as the legally required witnesses. [3]
Bandung, circa 1941Photo Source: Zoo Leven Wij in Indie
Soldiers of the Royal Netherlands Indies Army (KNIL) on training maneuversPhoto Source: ww2incolor.com
Cpl. Frank Samethini and his bride, Elisabeth.June 4, 1941
Frank Samethini Collection
In July the Samethinis returned to Surabaya, where air raid drills had become a part of daily life. People did their best to ignore the signs of approaching calamity as they worked at their jobs, raised their children, and socialized with friends, savoring the routines of a normal world. Above all, they pursued their amusements with a defiant intensity:
Refusing to be worried by the ever worsening news, we welcome every excuse for going out to movies, parties or just some dancing. To the stirring beat of drums, percussion and bass we dance, lost to the world. Suddenly the sirens howl, waiters run to draw the curtains for another snap black-out practice in war-prepared Surabaya. Tactfully, the band leader switches to national songs and everybody is singing away about Holland's Flag, about Piet Hein who took the Spanish Silver Fleet and about the Girl By the Mill. People singing perhaps louder, smiling perhaps more than ever before....[4]
On August 29, Anna gave birth to a daughter, Margareth Jacqueline Samethini. A photo of newborn Margie taken at Darmo Hospital shows a proud Uncle Frank cradling her in his arms, doubtless looking forward to holding a daughter of his own. To celebrate, Han led his band in a live radio performance of the swing hit "Margie":
My little Margie,
I'm always thinking of you, Margie!
I'll tell the whole wide world I love you;
Don't forget your promise to me,
You know, I bought the home, the ring and everything,
So, my little Margie,
Margie, oh, you've been my inspiration,
Darling, you're the only one!
After all is said and done,
There is really only one,
Margie, Margie, it's you! [5]
Darmo Hospital, Surabaya Birthplace of Margie Samethini
Birth AnnouncementHan Samethini Collection
Frank holds his newborn nieceHan Samethini Collection
Posing with the new mother: Emma and Elisabeth at Anna's bedsideHan Samethini Collection
Home with the baby: Anna and Margie at the Brantasstraat houseHan Samethini Collection
Margie in the cradleHan Samethini Collection
Fatherhood brought added responsibility and the need for better income that only a steady job could provide. For the sake of his family, Han set aside his musical career and obtained a clerical position at BPM, a leading Dutch petroleum company. The job demanded a relocation to Balikpapan, the great oil port and refining center on the east coast of Borneo. The Samethinis moved there in November. Their new residence was of a rather exotic construction: a house on stilts.
Despite its economic and strategic importance, Balikpapan was a cultural backwater compared to cosmopolitan Surabaya. It was also something of a frontier town, the surrounding country being home to Dayak tribesmen, lethal experts with their blowguns and poisoned darts. Han later recalled that he felt a sense of adventure living in Borneo. Yet often his thoughts must have strayed back to Surabaya. In all probability he intended to return there once he'd established himself at BPM, and earned sufficient experience and seniority to be granted a transfer back home.
Anna and Margie in Balikpapan, BorneoPhoto taken November 17, 1941
Han Samethini Collection
Petroleum tank farmPhoto Source: Zoo Leven Wij in Indie
Balikpapan oil port by day...
...and by nightPhoto Source: Zoo Leven Wij in Indie
Dayak warriorsPerhaps Han dreamed of Surabaya in the earliest hours of Monday, December 8. At 1:49 AM, local time, the night air of Balikpapan would be filled with the buzzing and chirping of tropical insects. Across the Pacific, the time at Pearl Harbor was 7:49 AM on Sunday morning, December 7. Here the air reverberated with different sounds: bombs exploding on Kaneohe Naval Air Station, and a droning roar heralding the first wave of Japanese torpedo planes boring in towards Battleship Row.
Footnotes
[1] The Sky Looked Down. Chapter 4: The Darkening Sky.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Elisabeth writes that Han also was ordered to report for army training in May 1941, but his military record states he was still on extended leave at that time. Perhaps this call-up was accidentally omitted in the summary. It is equally likely that Han and Anna went to Bandung for the express purpose of being at the wedding. Given the brothers' strong mutual devotion, we may reasonably presume that Han would be there for Frank even if no other relatives could attend. The Sky Looked Down, Appendix A.
[4] The worsening news of July 1941 would have included reports of continuing German advances deep into Russia, the freezing of Japanese assets in Britain and the United States (July 25), and Japan's retaliatory freezing of U.S. assets the following day. The most ominous development was Japan's seizure of French Indochina, completed July 29. By this move the Japanese acquired forward air bases ideally situated to support attacks on Malaya and Singapore.
[5] Lyrics from the 1934 version of "Margie", by Cab Calloway.
5. The Onslaught (December 1941 - March 1942)
7 December, 1941. Hundreds of Japanese airplanes attack in the early morning hours, without provocation or warning, the assembled fleet of the United States of America in Hawaii. The bulk of the naval power of a country not at war with Japan is sunk or crippled. The infamy of Pearl Harbour. The dreaded words are broadcast by radio to all of the Dutch East Indies. We are now also at war with Japan. [1]
- Frank Samethini, The Sky Looked Down
The storm had broken at last. With the news of war arrived the order for general mobilization. On December 8, 1941 Han Samethini was conscripted into the KNIL 6th Infantry Battalion in Balikpapan. This was the core unit of the town's 1,100 man garrison. BPM management hurriedly arranged evacuation of the employees' families to Java. Embracing Anna and Margie one last time before they departed, Han could only hope they would be safe at his mother's house in Surabaya. Certainly there was no better place to send them. Java was the redoubt, the home territory, to be stoutly defended even if all the other islands fell to the enemy. Would it come to that?
From across the Far East came reports of Japanese attacks, Japanese advances, Japanese victories. Before dawn on December 8, they landed troops in Malaya and bombed Singapore. At midday, Japanese warplanes struck the Philippines, smashing half of the American air force on the ground. Bangkok was taken on the 9th. On December 10, Japanese aircraft sank the HMS Repulse and Prince of Wales, eliminating at a stroke the only Allied capital ships in the region. The invasion of Luzon commenced the same day. In both Malaya and the Philippines, Japan's tough, superbly trained armies quickly overcame forward defenses and swept south towards Singapore and Manila. Hong Kong surrendered on Christmas Day.
Japanese infantry storms ashore in the Natuna Islands, west of Borneo Photo Source: The Dutch East Indies Campaign
The Japanese offensive in Southeast Asia(Click map to enlarge)
Map of Borneo with arrows indicating the locations of Tarakan, Samarinda, and Balikpapan (Click map to enlarge)
Following their rapid thrusts against the British and the Americans, the Japanese launched a great, three-pronged offensive against the Netherlands East Indies. The invasion of Borneo began on the night of December 16 with landings in British territory at Miri and Seria. Tarakan, a Dutch possession, fell on January 12 after a brief but vicious struggle, the Japanese killing most of the Dutch officers at close quarters with knives. Tarakan in hand, the Japanese commander, General Sakaguchi, prepared to move against his next objective, Balikpapan. He sent two captured Dutch officers to Lt. Colonel C. van den Hoogenband, the Balikpapan garrison commander. They delivered a written ultimatum demanding surrender. The message included a warning:
When the Balikpapan garrison destroys the natural resources and oil installations at Balikpapan and the surrounding country, all commanding officers, their Dutch soldiers and other Dutchmen related to them will be killed without exception. [2]
Undaunted, Hoogenband ordered the oil facilities to be put to the torch. Samethini took part in this operation, the resulting fires and explosions sending thick pillars of black smoke into the sky.
General Sakaguchi's ultimatum (Click image to enlarge)
Smoke rises from burning oil facilities at Balikpapan (January, 1942) On January 22 the Balikpapan invasion force was sighted heading south through the Makassar Strait. The Dutch air force attacked the convoy repeatedly but its antiquated Martin B-10 bombers inflicted little damage. In the predawn hours of the 24th the Japanese landed 5,500 soldiers in two separate groups. The bulk of Sakaguchi's 56th Regimental Group came ashore north of town. A detached battalion, the Surprise Attack Unit commanded by Maj. Kaneuchi, landed south of Balikpapan. Guided by fifth columnists, the latter force proceeded to the village of Banubaru, cutting off the Dutch line of retreat. Having learned from hard experience at Tarakan, where Dutch coastal artillery had sunk two warships, the Japanese were avoiding the big guns defending Balikpapan.
In any event, the Dutch did not attempt to hold their positions. Hoogenband had received orders to retreat inland after completing sabotage operations. He led an infantry column out of town, along the road to Banubaru. The Dutch ran into the advancing main body of Kaneuchi's Surprise Attack Unit. The Japanese promptly gave battle. Han fought as part of a machine gun crew, feeding the ammunition belt into the weapon as the gunner mowed down the leading edge of the oncoming Japanese. The KNIL troops were defeated and the column broke up. With no alternative but death or capture, Samethini banded together with other stragglers and headed north into the jungle towards their only hope of escape, the airfield at Samarinda. [3]
Offshore it had been a different story. At approximately 2000 hours (8 pm) on the 24th, American destroyers of DesDiv 59 attacked the invasion convoy, sinking four troop transports and an escort vessel. The next day two more transports were claimed, one by Dutch and American bombers, the other by a Dutch submarine. This was the largest naval action since the start of the Pacific War, but the brief Allied tactical victory could not change the outcome of events on land.
Over the next several days, Han and his companions hacked their way through a tangled wilderness teeming with malarial mosquitoes. Pursued and repeatedly attacked, they reached Samarinda and boarded a plane for Java. They were undoubtedly as exhausted and filthy as they were grateful to be rescued. As the transport winged over Borneo's deep green forests and brown, muddy rivers, Han might have gazed out the window and reflected on this land of opportunity that had so suddenly become a place of death and defeat. But he was not a man to dwell on regrets. Surely Anna and Margie were alive and waiting for him in Surabaya. That mattered more than anything. [4]
Back in Balikpapan, the Japanese rounded up civilians and the newly captured prisoners of war. They delayed their promised vengeance until February 20. On that day, they took their captives to the nearby sea shore:
Even eight patients from the local hospital were among the group of 78 victims marched to a beach near the old Klandasan Fortress. Two of the victims were then beheaded on the beach, the other 76 forced into the sea...all were shot one by one, their bodies left to drift with the tide. [5]
The only way out: Samarinda II airfield, Borneo
(Allied air recce photo taken in 1944)
(Allied air recce photo taken in 1944)
Han arrived in Java at the end of January. Making his way to Surabaya, he searched at once for Anna and Margie. To his great worry, he could find no trace of them. He then fell ill with malaria contracted during the forced march in Borneo. The disease evolved the dangerous complication called blackwater fever, and he was sent to a hospital. [6]
The report of Balikpapan's loss added to the litany of woes announced by the radio broadcasts on Java. Frank Samethini heard the news at Fort Menari, near Surabaya, where he'd been posted since the outbreak of the war:
Weeks pass without a shot being fired by us at the fort. But the radio tells of defeat, of bitter defeat by the ridiculed little men, the former smiling, bowing and hissing barbers, merchants of inferior goods made in Japan. There are also numerous reports of bravery from other sectors of our forces, but the closing message of the bulletin is always the same: battle lost, we retreat before the swarming ants....[7]
The day before Balikpapan's fall the Japanese overran Kendari, on the island of Celebes, capturing the finest air base in the East Indies. This put Surabaya within easy range of enemy bombers. From Kendari, on February 3, the Japanese launched their first major air attacks on the city. Frank was on anti-aircraft observation duty that day:
I am reading a letter from Lisa while on duty in the listening post ("Darling, do you want it to be a boy or a girl?"), when suddenly a sound from a great distance enters the earphones. Growing louder and louder, it seems to come from every direction. No, wait, from high in the invisible vault above the cloud banks it comes! In a flash I recognise it with a sudden, racing heart: approaching aircraft. Can't be ours, we haven't got that many! My thumb sinks the alarm button while I reach for her letter fluttering to the floor. My field glasses show the Jap airplanes up as silver-winged, transparent dragonflies, three flights of five bombers in each squadron, moving slowly across the sky, too high for the black and white popping blossoms of our ack-ack. What little is left of our fighter planes whiningly soar upwards to meet their fate. The dragonflies move on southwards - southwards! But that is Surabaya! Fear clutches my throat. My God! Almost immediately I hear the dull boom of exploding bombs in a muffled staccato that pierces through my heart. Where, oh God, have they fallen? [8]
In Surabaya, Elisabeth was visiting a friend of her mother's. She recalls:
The sirens started with a horrible noise and we thought they were just practicing, but then the bombs started to fall and the aeroplanes were fighting in the air. We were so afraid and we all dived under the bed. After what seemed like hours, the all clear came. We were all dazed and didn't know what to think about it all. There was chaos everywhere.... [9]
A formation of Mitsubishi G4M "Betty" Japanese medium bombers. This type flew missions against Surabaya from Kendari, Celebes.
"There was chaos everywhere...." Japanese bombs fall on Surabaya (February 1942)
Japan's fearsome Zero fighter planes inflicted heavy casualties on the Dutch and Allied interceptors, and the city was soon without effective air defense:
The following week a few more air raids are directed on fortifications outside Surabaya, but the scattered pillboxes and gun emplacements are perfectly camouflaged and no direct hit is suffered. The enemy aircraft, unchallenged since the last Dutch plane was downed, fly low over the dense swamp vegetation in an effort to draw fire and so pinpoint our gun positions. But the order by the fort commander is clear: repulse enemy landings on the beaches and nothing else. Do not shoot at aircraft, do not even shake a fist at them lest they spot you. Keep your head low and swear if you must, but all all events stay out of sight. What kind of war is this? [10]
By the middle of February, Singapore had surrendered, the bulk of the American army in the Philippines was bottled up on the Bataan Peninsula, and the Japanese had taken Palembang in southern Sumatra. The enemy was now on Java's doorstep. Getting 24 hours' leave, Frank entered Surabaya to find the town "swarming with British and Australian soldiers." There were also American air and artillery units on Java. These hastily collected reinforcements, belatedly shipped to the East Indies without adequate arms or supplies, were too little, too late.
On the morning of February 27, Frank looked out from Fort Menari to see a small fleet of Allied cruisers and destroyers - American, British, Dutch, and Australian - steaming through the Western Fairway:
...the binoculars pick up the sleek outlines in camouflage grey, stealing through the mist of dawn out into the open sea. Our gallant Navy sailing to their last engagement with the enemy, to bear the brunt of the great onslaught. [11]
In the Java Sea the ABDA fleet boldly attacked the more powerful Japanese warships escorting the East Java invasion force, hoping to break through and sink the troop transports. The Japanese, with their heavier guns and advanced "Long Lance" torpedoes, drove them off after inflicting severe losses. Among the vessels sunk was the Dutch flagship, the light cruiser De Ruyter, going down with 345 of her crew. Among them was Adjutant Machinist Frans Anton Boerman, Frank's father-in-law.
The invasion of Java (Click map to enlarge)
On March 1 the Japanese landed at four points on the north coast of Java: Merak, Bantam Bay, Eretenwetan, and Kragan. The invaders encountered occasionally heavy resistance as they advanced across the island, but wherever the Allies stood, the enemy smashed them, drove them back, or simply outflanked them. The colonial government fled the capital, Batavia, for the relative safety of Bandung. On March 8 the Dutch leadership, demoralized and fearful of possible Japanese reprisals against civilians, ordered the military forces to surrender.
Soldiers of the Japanese 2nd Division celebrate their landing at MerakSource: The Dutch East Indies Campaign 1941-1942
48th Division landing trucks at KraganSource: The Dutch East Indies Campaign 1941-1942
The Japanese Army enters Surabaya Source: The Dutch East Indies Campaign 1941-1942
Dutch soldiers surrender on JavaSource: The Dutch East Indies Campaign 1941-1942
At Fort Menari, Frank Samethini and his comrades obeyed the command with heavy hearts:
In bitter silence they come, from the firing positions, from the big guns so perfectly camouflaged against air attack. They come to pile arms and ammunition in one big heap before the commander's bunker. This has been ordered by the Imperial Japanese Army, which will arrive to take over tomorrow. We all go to the canteen to drink, and drink. "Here's to victory, blast the Japs!" sounding hollow and desperate. [12]
Han heard the report of capitulation at a hospital in Malang. By this time he'd recovered sufficiently from the malaria to get back on his feet. He surrendered to the local Japanese occupation troops on March 9. In his own words, "I marched straight from the hospital to the POW camp." Reflecting on the lopsided struggle that was the NEI Campaign over 40 years later, he commented sadly:
We had rifles, some machine guns, some artillery, and a few tanks. They gave us a little bit of training. But we were not really an army. We were just a police force. [13]
After more than three centuries of proud mastery in the East Indies, the Dutch had been overthrown in just three months.
Footnotes
[1] The Sky Looked Down, Chapter 4: The Darkening Sky.
[2] Quoted in "The Balikpapan Massacre", on the web site The Dutch East Indies Campaign 1941-1942.
[3] Most of the information on events at Balikpapan is drawn drawn from "The Capture of Balikpapan", Ibid. In 1985 Samethini told me about his part in the infantry battle. He could not remember any details concerning the position of his unit, but I surmise that he was with Hoogenband's column because this was the only Dutch land force at Balikpapan that offered any organized resistance.
[4] Samethini recounted the desperate journey to Samarinda in a 1989 interview with Rosemarie Neithercutt in East London, South Africa. The resulting article, a short biographical piece, appeared in the newsletter of the Berea Gardens retirement community: "[Han] and the others escaped through the jungle. They were under constant attack and had to cut their way through deep forests, but finally, arrived at a pre-prepared airport and were flown back to Java." The closeness of the pursuit suggests that Dayak tribesmen had joined in the hunt. Shortsightedly, the Dutch authorities had neglected to cultivate good relations with these fierce aboriginal hunters. The Japanese Army paid them to track, kill, and capture Dutch soldiers, a task the Dayaks performed with great skill and relish.
[5] George Duncan's Massacres and Atrocities of World War II.
[6] Deciphered message SD 5145, sent to Army Melbourne by ABDACOM Batavia and dated February 1, 1942 states: "All Dutch aircraft removed from Samarinda but believe aerodrome not yet demolished." Time of receipt 1300 hours. Samethini's group may have reached the airfield as late as the morning of February 1, catching one of the last planes out. This and other ABDACOM communiques can be viewed at the Dutch National Archives web site Afscheid van Indie: Digitale documenten over de jaren 1940-1950. To search, type key words into the Zoeken (Search) field at upper left of the web page.
[7] The Sky Looked Down, Ibid.
[8] Ibid.
[9] The Sky Looked Down, Appendix A: Lisa's Story.
[10] The Sky Looked Down, Chapter 4: The Darkening Sky.
[11] Ibid.
[12] Ibid.
[13] Recalled from a conversation with my grandfather in May, 1985.
6. Into the Inferno (March - December 1942)
Quite early into our POW life, we understood you would be killed if you tried to escape. In our camp in Malang, we had to watch the shooting of five men who had fled the camp. Later on we heard that, in other camps on Java, the Japs used bayonets for this purpose. Also, getting into a physical argument with a guard would result in death, as this was the punishment for insulting the Imperial Japanese Army. Often the guards tried to provoke aggressive behavior from a prisoner, so self-control, no matter how hard, was of the utmost importance. [1]
Han Samethini's Japanese POW Index CardDate of capture: March 9, 1942
(Year indicated as Showa 17, the seventeenth year of Emperor Hirohito's reign)
Han Samethini Collection
Hunger and beatings (kicks and punches to the face, shins, and groin) became part of daily existence, and the prisoners sank ever lower into physical degradation. But within them arose a spirit that defied humiliation and despair. It expressed itself in a silent, unflinching gaze directed into the eyes of the Japanese tormentors, through every harangue and bash-up. It crafted sly jokes, and devised many humorous or insulting nicknames for the guards. Frank Samethini wrote:
The rags we wear, what meagre possessions we have tucked away in frayed rucksacks, our very lives, all of that is owned by the Japanese. But the rumours, improbable as they may sound, are ours, ours to be passed on in whispers and listened to hungrily. Yes, the rumours are ours. And the unsquashable, incredible sense of humour, witty and often biting, that too is ours. That also the Japanese cannot take away. [2]
Music and comedy, performed in makeshift variety shows, were essential morale boosters. Somewhere in camp Samethini found an accordion. Together with Joop Postma, a Dutch navy corporal who was to become a brilliant POW cabaret producer, he organized a number of entertainments for their fellow prisoners. Postma recalled:
Soon after the capitulation, at Malang, we started our cabaret. We kept at it until we were transported to Batavia....We started with just the two of us at first, Samethini on accordion and me as emcee. [3]
Bakker elaborates:
I am quite certain I met Han Samethini first in the POW camp at Malang, East Java, in December 1942. In this camp several shows with cabaret and music were performed for us in the barracks of the army soldiers. I was housed in the barracks for marines. Joop Postma was onstage as well. I already knew him as a stand up comedian who told rather dirty jokes, but now it didn't matter since we were with men only (9,000 to 11,000 of us) and there were no ladies present. [4] [5]
During all this time, Han had neither seen nor heard anything of his wife and daughter. Unable to receive letters or visits, he treasured the one memento in his possession, a tiny locket containing Anna's portrait. Margie would be over a year old now. What did she look like? Would the Allies liberate the East Indies in time to for him to see his little girl take her first steps, or hear her speak her first words? Similar thoughts of home gnawed at all the men in camp, but at least they were still on Java, relatively near to their families. That was about to change.
Source: The Dutch East Indies Campaign, 1941-1942Throughout the conquered territories of Southeast Asia, masses of POWs were on the move. By road, rail, and sea they went, hauled away by the Japanese like the cargoes of looted oil, rubber, and strategic minerals, to feed and maintain the churning war machine. Some were sent to distant islands, to build military airstrips virtually with bare hands. Others were taken to Japan itself, to toil in the mines and factories of the imperial homeland. In the sweltering jungles of Thailand and Burma awaited the most immense slave labor project: a railway that would link Bangkok and Rangoon to supply Japan's 15th Army in Burma, an enormous force pressing on the very borders of India. European companies had earlier examined the feasibility of constructing such a railroad, but judged it impossible because the cost in human lives would be too high. This consideration posed no obstacle to the bushido spirit. The Japanese had prisoners aplenty, and they would spend them freely. The Java camps were levied.
The year had turned. It was January, 1943. Han Samethini and his comrades stepped out of the gates of the Malang stockade to begin the first leg of their journey to Thailand.
Footnotes
[1] Felix Bakker, personal e-mail to Margie Samethini-Bellamy (September 2006). Translated by Margie.
[2] The Sky Looked Down, Chapter 10: Railroad.
[3] Werkers aan de Burma-spoorweg, p. 239.
[4] Felix Bakker, Ibid.
[5] Of Han Samethini's character, Bakker recalls: "My impression of him was that of a sympathetic, well educated and well mannered man. And quite modest, like most Eurasians are. During that event I did not once hear Samethini raising his voice." Bakker, personal e-mail to author (November 28, 2006).
7. Hell Ship to Singapore (January 1943)
POWs boarding a Japanese transport in Tanjong Priok, Java (January 4, 1943)Tanjong Priok was the port of Batavia.
Illustration by Australian POW Ray Parkin
Source: Into the Smother (London: The Hogarth Press, 1963)
The Japanese shipped the Dutch POWs west by rail across Java, then north over sea to Singapore. Felix Bakker recounts their journey:
The first week of January 1943, a thousand men from our camp, [Samethini] among them, were transported to Batavia (Jakarta) in a boarded-up train. One week later we were crammed, 1,100 men, into an old Japanese freighter, not knowing where the Japs were going to bring us. We were packed deep inside the ship, like herrings in a tin can. The hatches above us were open day and night, so we suffered the intense heat of the sun during the day. When it rained hard, the Japanese sailors put a tarp over the open hatch. We got very little food and drink, and pretty soon it got suffocating down there.
Conditions in the hold of a hellship bound for Singapore (January, 1943)Note the open hatches above, matching Bakker's description.
Illustration by Dutch POW W.F. Brinks
Source: Geheugen van Nederland / The Museon
Then, one evening (I will never forget this as long as I live), something incredibly beautiful happened. The sea was calm, the evening was clear, and we could even see some stars from our dark hellhole. Suddenly we heard the wonderful sounds of beautiful music played on an accordion. We knew right away it was Han Samethini. He sat on top of the hatch with the Dutch transport commander next to him, and some Japanese a bit further away. We heard later that the Japanese captain had given permission for him to play. That night Han Samethini played the stars down from the sky. Strauss, Mozart, Brahms. It was overwhelming. The ship, crammed with over a thousand prisoners of war, was totally silent. Even the sick stopped moaning. But around me I could hear strong men weeping, and to be honest, I shed some tears as well. Listening to this heavenly music from another time and world, we turned all our thoughts to our loved ones, who were being separated farther and farther from us with each turn of the ship's screws. Han Samethini must have thought of his family too, as he played with such intense feeling. I don't know how long he played. It was not long enough for us.
We applauded, not only because of admiration but even more so out of gratitude. In this midst of this horrible situation, Han Samethini used his blessed musical talent that unforgettable night, to not only forget the misery for a few moments, but to give us strength to face the very perilous future. [1] [2]
Footnotes
[1] Felix Bakker, personal e-mail to Margie Samethini-Bellamy (September 2006). Translated by Margie.
[2] The Japanese vessel that took Bakker and Samethini to Singapore was most likely the Usu Maru. It sailed from Batavia (port of Tanjong Priok) on January 4, 1943 and arrived in Singapore on the 7th. Information provided by Australian researcher Peter Winstanley, author of the web site Prisoners of War of the Japanese 1942-1945.
8. Changi (January 1943)
Selarang Barracks, Changi POW CampSource: New Zealand Electronic Text Centre
After three days of misery in the hellship's hold, Han and his comrades emerged into the light and marched down the gangplank to their next transit camp. Felix Bakker continues:
It turned out our destination was Singapore. We disembarked there and were housed in the Changi camp, where we joined most of the 70,000 British, Australian, and Indian troops captured at the fall of Singapore. [1]
Frank Samethini too had been transferred to Changi. His group of Dutch POWs had arrived in November 1942, being sent to the AIF (Australian Imperial Forces) section. Shortly after Han's contingent arrived, Frank got word that his brother was in the vicinity. He went at once to find him:
My brother Han is reported seen in the hospital area of Changi. On my way there, good care is taken to salute the Sikh guards in the correct manner. Calling themselves "Free Indians", they have gone over to the enemy. A mean lot they are, worse than the Japs when it comes to finding an excuse for bashing us up. A chapel stands further down the road, its door open. Inside, an Aussie on a stepladder, repairing the stained-glass window, says, "Howdie" without looking up from his work. On an impulse, I take a seat before the small altar and bend my head. But words will not come. Do I still believe? Then it all wells up, gushing forth into violent prayer. A moment later I am outside again, feeling much relieved. Han is not in the hospital and, thanks to the Lord, also not in the ever growing plot of mounds of freshly dug soil. Back in my camp, Han runs to meet me at the gate, and all is well. [2]
"The ever growing plot of mounds of freshly dug soil"Funeral of RAMC captain in Changi camp cemetery (October 1942)
Source: www.fepow-community.org.uk
British POWs at ChangiMen of the Loyal North Lancashire Regiment (October 1942)
Source: www.fepow-community.org.uk
Briefly reunited, the Samethinis set off on an unusual quest:
Han, the wizard on the accordion, as he is known, is craving to try his hand again on the keyboard of a piano. Hasn't touched one in donkey years. We find the officer in charge of entertainment, sporting a fierce martial moustache, supervising a Shakespearean play performed in the open air theatre. First an attempt is made to ignore us, but we plant ourselves right in front of him.
"Yes?" with contempt in his eyes for the two foreigners who dare to interrupt his listening. We tell him.
"Yes, of course, that's a piano there on the stage. But not for amateurs, thank you. However, there's another one in the church which could be made available at some time or other. But mind, none of this swing music. We do not permit jazz in church." [3]
The British officer's lofty admonition not only only failed to deter Han, it provoked him into stealing the show:
Not wishing to waste another word on the empire builder, we return to our section, which happens to border on the entertainment grounds.
Han takes the old "squeeze box" from the hook, accepting a tailor-made cigarette from one of the boys who anticipates what is coming. "Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond" is followed by "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling" and "Beautiful Dreamer." When he gets to "Tipperary," everyone in the open air theatre has walked out on the Bard to join us in the great sing-song, led by the amateur. [4]
The Java Lines section at ChangiPrisoners transiting from Java to the Burma Railway were assembled here.
Illustration by British POW Charles Thrale
Source: FEPOW Monthly Review
Illustration by British POW Charles Thrale
Source: FEPOW Monthly Review
Frank was to remain at Changi until April 1943, but Han and his group were sent north again after only a short time. Bakker relates:
We did not stay very long, as ten days later we were on our way to Thailand by train. Han Samethini was among the Dutch POWs in this transport. [5]
Riding the existing rail line from the tip of Malaya to the region west of Bangkok, they approached the southernmost base camps of the Burma Railway, outliers of a domain of hardship and savagery that were to surpass anything the Japanese had inflicted on them so far.
Singapore and the southern portion of the Burma Railway(Click map to enlarge)
Footnotes
[1] Felix Bakker, personal e-mail to Margie Samethini-Bellamy (September 2006)
[2] The Sky Looked Down, Chapter 6: Destination Railroad
[3] Ibid.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Bakker, Ibid.
9. The Death Railway (January - December 1943)
"We were crammed, thirty-five men, in steel compartments"Illustration by Charles Thrale
Source: Fepow Monthly Review
Source: Fepow Monthly Review
The journey from Singapore to the southern end of the Burma Railway took nearly a week. Felix Bakker again takes up the narrative:
We were crammed, thirty-five men, in steel compartments. The doors were kept ajar, with a rope stretched between them, so that we could hold on to the rope when "going to the toilet." After a few days, dysentery erupted again with all its misery. Those patients had to be held tightly or they would fall out of the train due to their weakness. During the day it was boiling hot in those steel wagons, and at night we froze. Under those circumstances it was almost impossible to sleep; we had to try that sitting down and pulling our knees up. For the tall guys among us this was even worse than for those who were shorter and more supple. I was not among the latter.
Ban Pong railway station, ThailandSource: Australian War Memorial (P00761.029)
Twice during daylight the train would stop, and from each wagon two men were allowed to get a small barrel of water and another one of rice gruel. That was all we got for food and water per day. If one of the sick men tried to leave the wagons to void, the Japs would beat him back into the train with their rifle butts. As on the ship, conditions inside the train became almost intolerable. This train trip took five days and five nights, until we arrived at Ban Pong, Thailand. There we were crammed into trucks so we could not fall out, even though we could barely stand for lack of sleep. We had to walk from Kanchanaburi to Chungkai camp. It was really more like sleepwalking, but the rifle butts of our guards made sure we kept staggering on. In the camp were already a few thousand British POWs, who had built bamboo barracks and who had started working on the railroad. After roll call, which lasted longer than an hour while the Japanese kept counting us over and over, we could finally go to our barracks, where most of us simply collapsed from lack of sleep.
After a few days in Chungkai, our group of 500 Dutch POWs had to move up country to our first labor camp, but not before we had to listen to a speech by the Jap camp commander. I, and most of us, don't remember much about his nonsense other than:
"You should be honored and feel privileged that you are helping to undertake such a great project under Japanese leadership, and therefore you shall have to work hard to earn this honor."
Well, we learned the truth of that last statement. We walked, a long line of men, on a small sandy road which soon became a jungle trail. The walk took three days. Many fell ill with dysentery, malaria, and injured feet. In the late afternoon of the third day, we halted in a clearing in the forest along the River Kwai. On one side, near the river, were three large, new tents for the Japanese camp commander and the Korean guards. On the other side, near the edge of the forest, stood an old, threadbare, grubby tent which was the hospital tent for the gravely ill. Everybody else had to find a spot near the bushes or under the trees at the edges of the camp.
Map of the Burma Railway(Click to Enlarge)
Source: perthone.com
Luckily the dry monsoon was still there for a few more months. Roll call had everybody out next morning before daylight. For breakfast we got a small bowl of rice gruel. Our doctor had kept some sick men away from the labor groups. This was not appreciated by the Japs, who kicked a number of these men towards the labor details. When the doctor protested vehemently, four guards went at him with sticks until he fell unconscious to the ground. After a few hours the guards threw water on his face and allowed him to be dragged off to his "hospital tent." This way the Japs made it clear how they would run things.
The railroad to be worked on was about 6 kilometers from camp. One detail cut a wide swath through the forest by sawing down trees and hacking away the brush. Other groups started the initial foundation work for the railroad. The work was done by hand, with picks and shovels. Woven baskets were used to dump the soil where it was needed. Each man had to move one cubic meter of soil. This was measured very precisely by the Japs at the end of the day by the finished section of railroad. Only when the measurement was correct could the labor details return to camp. If not, we had to keep working by torch light. This happened more and more, as increasing numbers of men fell ill. It was very heavy labor under the broiling sun. The water in our canteens was soon gone, and water for tea was brought by two men once a day, from the river 6 kilometers away. Those men also brought the rice gruel for lunch. We got ten minutes to eat gruel and drink tea, and then it was back to work. If things did not go fast enough, or if we did not work hard enough, according to the Japs, we would get beaten with bamboo sticks, shovels, or rifle butts. For the first time in my life, I learned what thirst really meant: mouth and throat dry as a cork, swollen lips, visions of faucets giving cool, clear water, as much as you wished.
Illustration by Francess RichardsonImage courtesy of former British POW Len Baynes
"Green Hell"
Source: Geheugen van Nederland / The Museon
Source: Geheugen van Nederland / The Museon
Due to the merciless slave labor conditions, not enough food (three bowls of gruel, and at night sometimes pumpkin soup), and lack of sleep on account of mosquitoes and diarrhea, the number of seriously ill rose daily. There was dysentery, malaria, and feet badly injured by tropical ulcers because many of us did not have shoes anymore and worked with bare feet. Now every day people were dying. Nobody escaped contagious illnesses like dysentery. I also suffered my first painful bout with that. The nights were worst when the cramps forced you to crawl in pitch darkness to the latrines at the edge of the forest. The latrines were ditches up to three meters deep with bamboo trunks laid across. Among familiar faces, I saw your father [Han Samethini] at a roll call of dysentery patients. In spite of his pleading, our doctor did not receive any medications. The Thai name for the camp site was Nombredai, which we immediately changed to "Nonparadise." It was hell more than anything else. And yet it would get much worse later, in the labor camps upstream in the rocky jungle mountains, in the rainy season.
We got a few days rest after finishing our part of the railroad, and then we marched to the next labor camp. I don't know the name of that next labor camp. We did not stay there long, but went on again, working on the route of the railroad, moving earth and building embankments.
Source: BBCAt the next camp, called Wampo, we worked on the rocky parts of the railway bridges. This was a huge project, as the two-part bridge was to be built underneath and against the rocks hanging over the river. As far as I remember, we were a labor force of 2,000 Allied POWs: about 600 Australians, 700 British, and 450 Dutch. There were also about 100 Thai workers, whose elephants dragged the felled trees, to be used in the bridges, from the forest to the river. The three POW labor camps were situated on sand banks in the river bend. The rainy monsoon had not arrived yet. For the first time we had tents for bivouacs. Really not enough of them, as we had to lie down very close together. But because we worked in shifts, there was barely enough room for everyone.
The British and Australians were detailed to build the bridges, and we Dutch and a few hundred Brits got the task of hacking away the huge rock, so the railroad could proceed towards the bridges. The bridge builders worked all day during daylight. But we rock cutters worked in three shifts, day and night. The first shift, by twos, had to make holes 1.2 meters deep manually, using chisel and hammer. The goal was for each pair to make two holes, so one hole per man. Dynamite was then exploded in those holes. The second shift had to clear away the debris - chunks of rock, stones, and gravel - pushing it down the mountainside with shovels, or using steel jacks for the large rocks. As soon as they were finished, the third shift showed up to makes holes with hammer and chisel. And so it went, day and night. After dark, we worked by torch lights called hellfires. During the day it was searingly hot on those rocks. The thirst was very bad, especially when we saw the river streaming below.
The railway viaduct at Wampo South (1943)Note the cutting in the massive cliff face above the bridge.
Illustration by Dutch POW A.G. Muller
Source: Netherlands Institute for War Documentation
A section of the Wampo viaduct todaySource: picasaweb.google.com
Here also, we were harassed and beaten for any reason, or no reason. We got a little more rice than in the previous camps, and there were fewer gravely ill POWs. But the night-and-day work schedule was a killer, and the sharp stone fragments tore up our feet because most of us had no shoes left to wear. We had to keep working on those sore and cut-up feet. After a while, you lost count of hours, days, nights. No more thoughts, only work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep. The lack of sleep brought most of us to utter exhaustion. Because of this, malaria and dysentery came back in force, and the foot injuries got worse and worse. It took about four weeks to cut that rock of 15 meters height and 100 meters long to pieces. Afterwards we had to hoist tree trunks, meant for the final sections of the bridges, from the river to the rocks. When the bridges were finally completed, and the wooden cross ties and the rails could be laid down, we were marched to the next camp without a break.
Only the gravely ill stayed behind. Many of them had seriously injured feet. They were transported to the base/hospital camp Chungkai. Henri Samethini must have been among them, as he was ill, with injured feet, and because I saw him much later in Chungkai. [1]
Han Samethini was indeed separated from Bakker's party at Wampo, but regardless of his condition, the Japanese put him back to work on the railroad. He continued up country with another group of Dutch POWs. At every camp where they stopped, Han must have asked for news of his brother. When the column reached Kinsayok, in May 1943, he found Frank there, lying in a squalid hospital tent. Frank's group had started from Ban Pong, in April, with 900 men. After a ten day march with only brief halts, little more than 500 of them were still standing. Frank contracted dysentery almost immediately upon arrival at Kinsayok. The doctors had no medicines to combat the disease. There were not even any beds for the patients, just groundsheets laid out on bare earth. He'd been fighting grimly for his life, managing to keep down at least a little food long enough to be digested, as men died all around him. Frank writes:
At dusk my name is called, and a moment later my brother Han enters, sporting a long, thin beard. Stooping down, he calls my name again and again, and starts to cry, begging me not to die. What does he mean, die! I rave about flies, orderlies, the bad food and the filth. His face lights up while he brushes tears from his cheeks, saying that to hear me carrying on like that means, thank heaven, that he has no reason to worry. Is there anything he can do? Yes, a pair of pants is badly needed; I've only got one pair left on my body. He takes a pair of faded khaki pants out of his haversack and hands them over. Good old Han. A minute later and he is gone again, running all the way back to his outfit. He was given ten minutes to see me before marching off to a river camp way up north. [2]
Source: picasaweb.google.com
Source: Geheugen van Nederland / The MuseonFootnotes
[1] Felix Bakker, personal e-mail to Margie Samethini-Bellamy (September 2006)
[2] The Sky Looked Down, Chapter 8: The River.
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