Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam
***
Chapter
37: Gangsar
It was a Sunday evening. The
subdued lights of gas lamps which used to be seen before the war had shrouded the city of
Gangsar. The shops were found closed in Derbutan Street. Only the Chinese
Streets and houses had their lights on which were seen through windows. The
bioscope playhouse on the western most corner stood illumined with garlands of
lights. Military jeeps and trucks were parked in the front in rows. The youth- with
their hands in their pant pockets, mouths wide open and eyes not batting its
lids- were devouring “the fully endowed bosom” of an actress hanging in the front
wall.
In the east, was there a police
post in the Tri-Junction. The soldiers-three white men and two locals- were
sitting on iron chairs, smoking cigarettes. Some of Indonesian youths were chit
chatting with them. Those who were walking on the road took a diversion at the
tri-junction.
The Dutch troops were crowding as
usual at Bonhome Restaurant standing in the middle of Van Leben Straat. Piano
music in radio was wafting through the air. The clatter of cutlery- plates,
spoons and cups- were mildly noisy as they hit the glass surface of the tables.
The Krammer Park was just opposite and were there the school arches under
darkness on its either sides. Motor vehicles were standing along streets and the
drivers were found chatting with the passers-by smoking tobacco.
The news bulletin telecast at half
past seven was nearing its announcement. The radio in Bonhome Restaurant
clearly indicated the time passing fast. “Pippip Piptisisde Niromsh Patha…”
the light went out suddenly, hand bombs exploded and the guns shots shook the
surrounding. The miserable howling of people running helter-skelter towards
safer places filled in the streets. Helpless yells from every corner of the streets,
“Appi…appi…appi...” The gun shots didn’t stop while the goading voices of
Dutch pressing emergency pervaded, “hot bar dum daya….hot bar dum daye…”
The parked vehicles disappeared,
sped away in no time. The policemen sitting at the police posts fell prey to the
starving hand bombs and Greece knives. The soldiers walking on the streets fell
on the ground. Houses, telegram and telephone exchanges were blown up. The
military men who were playing pole games in their camps waiting for the announcement
from the radio were killed in the rain of bullets within seconds the lights
were out. The Dutch military vans sped away south carrying the military
equipment. The soldiers of the First Division of North Sumathra Guerilla Regiment
were travelling in it!
The Gangsar attack shook every
nerve of the Dutch army- Who attacked? How and when they assembled and executed
this attack? Who was the master mind behind this attack?
The Chief of Military
Intelligence Dikurs went to Gangsar, consulted all the Security Services
officials and tried to infer from the available information. They could arrive
at one thing- The militants who attacked were well trained and belonged to a disciplined
striking force. What about the chief? He must either be a Japanese army officer
and a European military officer, they thought. But Major Dilton wasn’t convinced
with that, he had some other inferences in mind. ‘The one who led this
attack is a Tamil. A Moski Straat clerk. How did he come to lead this armed outfit?
He had been trained in the Indian National Army. Ha…ha…ha…Indian Nazi….Indian
Nazi….” Dilton’s voice was subdued in the fervent laughter that threw slur.
The news of success by the first
division of Guerilla forces spread every corner of North Sumathra, spread
further everywhere and resonated every corner of Indonesia. This was the first
time where the Indonesian Republican Army personnel waged an attack
successfully on a big city which held the bases of the Dutch army and caused a huge
damage.
Who’s this man heading the first
division of North Sumathra Guerilla forces? Is he the Muslim officer who left
the British army and joined the Forces of Independence? Or is he the one who is
the son of a poor Tamil labourer nipping tea leaves in Mabar Tea estate?
Pandian’s name and frame had
assumed different proportions in public fantasy. He was termed Raja Uttang- the
king of forests. He would fly sitting astride on a white horse with an alloy armour
on his body and a long sword in hands. Blessed soul by the Gods. Bullets would
never pierce his body. He is Raja Uttang. Hail him.
The North Sumathra Guerilla force
decimated the airport at Lampong city ten days after their campaign at Kangsar.
Three aircrafts parked on the tarmac were blown into pieces. The oil tanks were
completely set ablaze.
This sudden lightening attack had
got the Dutch army terribly confused. Lampong city didn’t have much of sympathizers
for Republican army. It was earlier guessed that the army of Raja Uttang had
stationed at Medan- Gangsar areas. Would they be able to penetrate a maiden
forest in which even animals wouldn’t dare roaming and walked a distance of
thirty miles to launch an attack of this scale? Or are there two similar
striking forces under the command of Raja Uttang?’
Following the attack at Lampong, was
there an armed conflict at Sungai Limbian. A message came from Medan that a
column of Dutch Motor army had been scheduled to move to Pilakang Mathi.
Pandian’s forces were waiting in ambush to attack them. The Dutch forces were
going past Thithikichi. On either side, was there an impregnable, dense forest
area. They were marching through the ruined sisal groves lying in patches here
and there. Sungai Limbian was approaching near.
The vehicles stopped abruptly, creaking,
crashing against one another. Some big branches of trees fell down on the road,
obstructing their path.
Bombs exploded, and tyres were
burst out. Shortly before they could recover from the shock of attack, much of
damage had already been done. The motor forces were unable to march ahead,
hiding behind trees but visible to the guerilla forces and facing imminent
dangers. The patrolling aircraft did some random circled sorties above and
dropped bombs indiscriminately without targeting anyone. But the guerilla
forces, by then, moved afar from the conflict zone long before the bombs were
dropped.
The ferocious campaigns of the North
Sumathra Guerilla forces did continue, spread everywhere. The air force bases
were blown up, bridges were destroyed, Railway tracks were damaged and go-downs
were reduced to ashes in fire.
***Chapter
37: “Gangsar” ended.
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