Under the Java Moon, page 32
At this, Mary sighed. “Where will we go after that?”
He knew the question wasn’t general. They’d be shipped to the motherland—the Netherlands. Another war-torn country trying to recover from Nazi occupation. But in the Netherlands, they wouldn’t be the target of genocide.
The queen of Holland would have her hands full with the influx of refugees that would be seeking repatriation soon. “I don’t know yet, but we’ll stay together no matter what. I’ll find work wherever I can. I’m sure there are a lot of rebuilding projects.”
They both fell silent for a moment. The window had lightened with the approaching sunrise, but everyone else in the house still slept. It was the brief space where they could have some privacy, which wasn’t really privacy at all.
“Things are working here again,” Mary said. “The toilets, the plumbing, the water, the electricity. It’s so much better than it was.”
George turned and took Mary into his arms. “It’s a step forward, but inside the camp, we’re just five out of thousands of people. If we can get a place close to the Allied base, then we’ll have a chance to get on one of the first ships out. I’m going to offer my services. Maybe that will earn us a quicker way out.”
Mary nodded against his chest, and he pulled her closer. “What if it doesn’t work? Will we be worse off?”
“If we don’t take a risk, then we’ll never know,” George said. “At Glodok, we found the hidden getaway vehicles that the Japanese soldiers had ready in case the Allies arrived. We took the pistols they’d concealed in the trucks, and we stripped the tires.”
Mary lifted her head. “How did you hide everything?”
George smiled. “We didn’t. Not exactly. We used the tire rubber for our shoes and the leather from the seats for jackets. I hid one of the pistols in the false bottom I created in my clogs.”
Mary stifled a gasp. “You paraded all of that in front of the soldiers?”
“They were none the wiser,” George said. “We took out the batteries of the vehicles and the radio components. Vos kept a radio transistor hidden in the bamboo yoke he used to carry buckets of water. Of course, the raid couldn’t remain secret forever. Eventually, the Japanese military discovered what we’d done, but they never found the pistols or who’d done the raiding. Kept the soldiers on their toes.”
“George, I can’t believe you did all that.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I’d do just about anything to keep my family safe.” The room began to lighten as the sun crested the horizon, and people throughout the house stirred. Their privacy had ended.
George headed out of the house. He wanted to talk to Dr. Starreveld at the medical center. Find out how she’d talked Lieutenant Sakai into sending guards with the rifles.
As if he were on the same time schedule, Vos appeared in the yard too. They walked together to the medical center.
Dr. Starreveld was already there—not surprising to George. The medical staff seemed to work at all hours. George was happy to help on his off hours. In return for this extra work, they found favor with the doctors and nurses. Something that might come in handy if one of their family members became ill. It was a trick that George had learned at Glodok. He treated all the Japanese soldiers with equanimity. Yes, they were strict and doled out punishments to those who broke the rules, but most of them were just trying to get through the war too. Serving their country, staying loyal to their emperor. Following orders.
It was men like Captain Sonei who deserved imprisonment or execution. George had the feeling that once the Allies heard about the atrocities the man had committed and forced those under his command to commit, he would be tried in a war crimes court.
The thought brought the smallest bit of satisfaction to George’s mind, although he’d rather the atrocities hadn’t happened at all.
“How did you get Sakai to send troops to the fence?” George asked.
“I spoke to Sakai directly. I reminded him of his orders to protect the Dutch. But instead of doing it himself, he ordered his men to load ammunition into their rifles. I think he knew that displaying a few bayonets at the gate hadn’t worked.”
George nodded.
“Mr. Vischer,” Dr. Starreveld continued. “The Japanese military gave us back our radios. And this morning, it was announced that housing was being made available in some of the neighborhoods near the former NEI naval base, which is now under Allied control.”
George had one question. “Can we head out on the next truck?”
“You’ll have to clear it with Sakai,” she said. “You’re free to leave, of course, but leaving on a truck might be another issue after what happened last night.”
George thanked the doctor and headed toward the commander’s office. He would wait all day if he had to in order to get an audience with the man. Vos settled in the dirt next to George, leaning against the wall.
Neither man had to speak. They were both good at waiting. It’s what they’d been doing for over three years.
Finally, Sakai allowed a meeting, and George gave a formal bow, then began his appeal.
“The overcrowding here is getting worse,” he said after thanking the man for hearing his case. “We’re taking our families out of the camp, but we wanted to get permission to ride out on one of the trucks—as far as it will go. There will be no special location. We need a head start since we don’t have money for a train.”
He didn’t want to take a train anyway. Not if the rebel groups were looking for more targets.
Sakai, sitting at his battered desk, his fingers steepled in front of him, took a long moment to respond.
Then, finally, he dipped his chin. “You will go out on the food truck this afternoon.” He looked over at one of his guards. “Check the records to see if the belongings of the Vischer and Vos families have been returned. If they haven’t, return them right away.”
The guard bowed.
George and Vos both bowed.
George couldn’t believe his luck. The truck would cut down their traveling time and offer them protection as well. He could only hope it would get them close enough to the naval base that they could walk the rest of the way before dark.
He hurried back to the house where Mary was preparing the children for the morning. Ita was self-sufficient, and she was like a mother hen to her younger brothers. George was impressed while at the same time sad that he’d missed the last years with his children.
“Mary,” he said, settling next to her, and keeping his voice low. He told her what he’d arranged, then cautioned her to be discreet about their packing.
Mary blinked rapidly, and her smile appeared. “Truly?” She drew in a deep breath. “Will we be safe?”
“We can’t stay here,” George said. “Dysentery is running rampant again. More and more freed prisoners are arriving to seek shelter inside the walls. If we’re close to the Allied naval base, I can work on getting us on one of the first ships out. But I can’t do that from here.”
Mary wiped at her eyes. “We will go, then.”
George didn’t know if Mary’s tears were because she was happy or overwhelmed. Maybe she was both. He grasped her calloused hand. “I won’t let anything happen to you and the children, or my sister. We’ll get off this island and start a new life.”
In her eyes, he saw the trust there. A trust he intended to always earn.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“About [this] camp life I’d rather not write. It would spoil this first letter and I am also determined to forget about this crazy period as soon as possible. The future interests me more. I have made a thousand and one plans, but they remain dreams.”
—Boudewijn A. J. Van Oort Sr., Tjimahi Camp
Rita
Ita sat with her knees pulled up, wedged between Johan and Georgie, as they rode in the back of a food truck. Greta sat on the other side of Johan. Across from them, the adults sat, swaying against each other with the truck’s movement. Robbie sat on Papa’s lap. Everyone had been told to stay low and not lift their heads above the sides of the wood railing that edged the open bed. Aunt Tie hadn’t come with them. She’d told Papa that she was going to work at the camp until the ship was ready.
“Where are we going again?” Georgie asked for the fourth or fifth time.
Ita knew he was just tired. She was tired too. They’d been driving for what felt like forever, and the wind and sun and sights had been exciting at first, but now her stomach hurt with all the jostling.
Johan was the one who answered in a patient tone. His voice had deepened during his absence from Tjideng, and he had stubbly red whiskers on his chin. “Our fathers are going to find us a place to live close to the naval base. The Allies are there now, and they can help us get on a ship.”
Georgie absorbed the information. “But we’re not coming back to Tjideng?”
Ita felt the shudder ripple through Johan.
“No,” he said in a firm voice. “Even with the Bersiap going on, we have to find another place to live so we can escape the diseased housing.”
Ita had heard the word Bersiap more than once, and was beginning to understand that it was the word the Dutch were using to describe the Indonesian National Revolution. Johan had told her all about what had happened last night with the rebel mob tearing down the fence. Mama had made her stay inside until Papa returned. Ita had thought they’d be safe in a camp with walls and the Japanese army to protect them. But last night had shown them how open to attack Tjideng was. Would they be safe in another location?
Her brother easily accepted Johan’s answer.
Ita was glad they’d left Tjideng, but it felt a bit like she was dreaming. Maybe she’d wake up in a few hours and learn they hadn’t left at all. When the truck had pulled out of the camp, she’d hoped that everything she was seeing would be for the last time—the central kitchen, the monkey cage, the guardhouse, Captain Sonei’s house, the concrete bridge . . . Mama and Mrs. Vos had both cried after the gates closed behind them, and the truck drove along Laan Trivelli with its tall shady trees and houses with wide verandas.
Ita’s heart rate had kicked up a notch when they’d neared their old home. It looked different somehow, even though it was the same. The yard seemed vast, her favorite mango tree giant, and the house larger than Ita remembered. Had she really lived in a place with so many rooms and so much space with only her family?
The house was also sad. As if it missed the days before the war. When there had been laughter and music and cooking and . . . life. The streets were quiet. Maybe because it was the middle of the afternoon and people were sleeping through the hottest part of the day.
What had happened to Kemala, Anja, Dea, and Bima?
Ita thought back to the moment they’d actually stopped right in front of the house.
“Mary,” Papa had said in a quiet voice. “We’re near the house. We could stop and look for your jewelry box.”
Mama stared at him. “It’s not safe to stop. Besides, our house is occupied, and we can’t expect—”
“If we see trouble, we don’t stop,” Papa said. “I want you to have something from our lives before all of this.” He waved a hand.
After a long moment, Mama gave a short nod.
Papa moved to the window that separated the driver from everyone else and spoke to the man in Malay. In moments, the truck had stopped in front of the old house.
Mama climbed out of the truck, Papa following. Mr. Vos went with them as well.
“We need to hurry,” Papa said. “The sooner we are gone, the better.”
Ita had craned her neck to watch her parents and Mr. Vos dig with their hands in the area that used to be a garden. It was overrun with other plants now. They started a few different holes, until Mama finally held up a box covered in dirt. Ita smiled at the triumph on Mama’s face, but she was still nervous about someone trying to stop them. Were there rebels in this neighborhood?
No one came out of the other houses. But it felt like they were being watched all the same.
Papa and Mr. Vos quickly filled in the other holes, as Mama hurried back to the truck, brushing dirt from the metal box as she went. When Papa and Mr. Vos reached the truck and climbed in, the driver wasted no time in stepping on the gas pedal.
And they were off again.
After Mama cleaned off most of the dirt, she opened the box. She didn’t show everyone the contents, but her smile said it all. She had her jewelry back.
Now, long after they’d passed their old house, Ita was still wondering about who lived there. Was her teddy bear still on her bed? And had they watched Mama dig in what used to be a garden?
Georgie had fallen asleep again, his head on Ita’s shoulder. At first, he’d gazed about, looking at everything in wonder, asking question after question. Robbie didn’t seem as entranced with the change in scenery and activity. He was content to be sitting on Papa’s lap.
Occasionally, they would see the trains that ran parallel to the roads. Taking a train would have been much faster, but Papa had said that the trains weren’t safe. Ita didn’t understand why. Dutch people had arrived on the trains that came into the camp.
She smoothed her new skirt over her knees and picked at a thread on the seam. Well, the skirt wasn’t new exactly. It had come in one of those Red Cross donation boxes. Everyone had sorted through the boxes, finding what would mostly fit them. There hadn’t been time to try things on before choosing what to keep, so Ita’s clothes might not fit, but at least they weren’t falling apart like her old ones had.
Suddenly the truck slowed, then took a quick turn onto a smaller road that was bumpy with rocks.
“Where are we going?” Mrs. Vos asked, her tone sharp. She peered over the side of the truck. Papa shifted to the back window of the cab. There wasn’t even a window, only an opening.
He spoke Malay to the driver, and Ita realized she’d forgotten most of the Malay words she’d known before.
When Papa turned back to the family, he said, “The train up ahead has been stopped by a rebel group.” His eyes narrowed, and he looked over at Mr. Vos.
Something silent passed between them. Ita didn’t know what was happening, but a hard pit formed in her stomach. It was something bad, that she was sure of. She was grateful to the driver of their truck for taking a detour. If she’d had something to give him as a thank you, she would. But their suitcases held only personal belongings. At least Japan had given back Papa’s certificates that they’d taken from Mama when they’d first arrived at camp.
Ita had even gotten back her teddy bear’s shirt with the flag on it. She would never see that teddy bear again, but since Oma had sewn the shirt, Ita would always keep it.
As the truck continued bumping along, Johan turned to look over the side, through the wooden slats.
“Keep your eyes on each other,” Mr. Vos said, his voice sounding worried. “You don’t need to see what’s happening, son.”
Johan obeyed, but Ita could feel the tension coming from him. What was happening? She wouldn’t look, but she was still curious. Mama and Mrs. Vos had their eyes closed, but Greta stared down at her hands, which were gripped tightly in her lap.
“What are they doing?” Ita whispered so that just Johan could hear.
Some things about him might have changed, but he still was always willing to answer any of her questions. “At camp there were rumors that the Dutch people are being forced off trains.” He paused. “And they’re shooting them.”
Ita’s stomach lurched. This was bad, very bad.
Her father had been smart to get them a ride on this truck instead. They didn’t have money for a train anyway, but what if they’d found tickets?
Ita felt sorry for the people on the train. Were there kids like her? In the camp, the Japanese soldiers had always been nice to the children. If a child broke a rule, their mother would be punished, not the child. But did the rebel groups spare children? What would happen to the children without their parents?
She had so many questions, but she couldn’t ask Johan all of them now. And she didn’t want to ask any of the adults. At least not here, not right now.
The truck driver must have been shaken up over the train incident because he told Papa he was going to continue past his route and take them all the way to the naval base. When they arrived, it was nearly dark, so Ita could only see groups of buildings. No one was in the streets.
The Bersiap activities included a natural curfew—at least that’s what Johan said. He’d told her that the rebel groups were more active at night, when they could target a few people at a time.
Ita tried not to think of rebels attacking her family. They didn’t have any weapons to defend themselves. She would fight, though. She’d protect Georgie and Robbie no matter what.
When the truck finally stopped, Ita was glad to get out of her cramped position. Papa helped her out of the truck, then he turned to help everyone else. Mrs. Vos insisted on giving the truck driver a piece of her jewelry she’d gotten back at camp, but he refused it.
“Karma will repay me and you.”
The truck lumbered off, and the two families were left to stand on a quiet street in the dark.
“Come,” Papa said. “We’ll inquire at the headquarters building. Someone will be on guard.”
As they walked along, Johan’s stride slowed to Ita’s.
She shivered, not from cold, but from dreading what might happen next.
“We’re in Allied territory now,” he said. “We’ll be much safer.”
Ita wanted to believe his words. He hadn’t been wrong about anything else.
They found a place to sleep after Papa knocked on several doors at the naval base. They were led into a large room that had no beds. Ita wasn’t picky anyway. She lay on the hard floor next to her family and listened as everyone settled in.
