Last Flight of the Buffaloes - a World War II Story on the Fall of Java

Chapter 10 - Paris van Java

Paris van Java—the Paris of Java—was a nickname for the city of Bandoeng. One of the many cities built from the ground up by the Dutch, Bandoeng used to be a plantation owned by the East Indies Company, eventually developed by the Dutch in the image of its proposed sister-city. Paired with its more temperate climate, one who walked the streets, cafes, and restaurants of Braga at night would easily mistaken himself to be in another place. Paved streets, wider roads, trees here and about. Designs were for Bandoeng to be the center of European government in the Indies and it sure looked like it.

However, the Bandoeng he had known from his childhood was much different to what he saw now. He first came to Bandoeng several months back, where he was asked to be on the ABDACOM staff as a liaison officer. Although the streets were still lively and filled with locals and colonials alike—everyone enjoyed a good beer and good music, and the Dutch were very generally open to natives who had 'proven' their 'Europeanness', whatever the hell that meant—many of them were in uniform. Almost every street corner you'd see a KNIL patrol, or a Stadswacht troop getting in shape. Now what was left were a few military police (themselves civilian police/politie who were given military rank as reservists) who guided traffic and made sure there were no looting. And yes, there were looting: people from the countryside attempted to seize the opportunity in acquiring goods from now emptied-out stores and restaurants, and they were always cautious of the non-cooperative separatists, the so-called native 'freedom fighters'. Jack Desouza did not want to dispute their politics, but if these folks turned out to be Japanese collaborators (and many of them, according to intelligence reports, were in fact collaborators and spies for the Japanese), he wouldn't mind at all seeing these traitors lined up against a wall and shot. Whatever politics they had, right now, they were a threat.

The empty streets of Bandoeng were paired with occasional distant hums of airplanes taking off, headed for a southeasterly course. Planes of all shapes and sizes, British Bristol Blenheims, old Dutch Martin B-10s, PBYs, DC-3 Skytrains—flew back and forth from the Dutch airfield at Andir, northern Bandoeng, airlifting vital personnel (or whomever could get aboard).

"That's a lot of planes." Said PFC Galveston. "I didn't think they would try this bad to get people off."

"We don't leave our people behind." Said Franky Drebbel. "The Dutch government is exiling itself to Australia. Evacuations started this week. We even had a hard time taking off because anyone who had a Dutch passport wanted to get off. They all heard what the Japanese did with Europeans and anyone who collaborated with them."

Jack had surely heard stories. One was a British military hospital in Hong Kong; when the Japanese seized the island, they attacked the hospital and gang-raped on the British nurses who were left behind. In Malaya, they didn't hesitate in hanging prisoners of war (civilians were also considered prisoners of war) upside down, then used them for bayonet practice. "All the more reason for us to get the hell out of here." Said Jack.

Going deeper into the city, at a crossroads near Braga, they were halted by a barricade manned by military police (marechaussee). The leader of the post, a Kopraal, asked Jack Desouza where they were going.

"The military hospital. We're hauling wounded from Leuwiliang." Said Jack.

"And you are?" asked the mustachioed Dutch policeman.

"We're the United States Army, bud!" said PFC Galveston. Galveston, Jack, and the Dutch military police differed starkly in appearance. While the Dutch were in clean green uniforms and helmets, the ones on the jeep were mudded, dirty, and smelt, once-combed oiled hair turning up and messy. Jack, having wavy hair, looked like he had been blown up in a wild chemical experiment in a lab... well he did get blown up, only not in a wild chemical experiment in a lab, but by proven chemical reactions in the form of Japanese bombs and grenades...

They let them through and found their way to the military hospital shortly, being guided by Lieutenant Drebbel. They parked their cars in a hurry and all three vehicles honked their horns, forcing a force of nurses and medical assistants to spur out of the hospital. They were plenty and so were the casualties, some of them lined up outside tents. The combined casualties of Japanese bombing raids on the airfield added with the various combat casualties meant that Bandoeng Military Hospital was a busy store. What amazed Jack was that none of the medical personnel had evacuated, unlike much of the European residents.

When the Surgeon-Captain came Jack signed off some forms and wrote his name on them. Jack asked, "Why are you all still here?"

"We won't be much good in Australia."

"But the Japs—they're just several dozen miles away here!"

"We'll hold out even if the Japs are here. We are medical professionals, Lieutenant..." The captain read his signature and name first, then continued, "Desouza. The hospital is our frontlines, war or not. And we are of better service to our countrymen than we are ever to Australians!" he said. He left soon after, coordinating the many Allied wounded.

"Well that does it." Said PFC Galveston. "Where to next, lieutenant? We ain't headed back, aren't we?"

Desouza did not have an answer for him, but someone did. "I'm walking wounded. I can still fight." Said Drebbel.

"Hey, listen Dutchy," said Galveston. "This is a hospital, not an airfield. You ain't gonna find planes here."

"My squadron—they're stationed at the Andir airfield north of here. Get me on a damn plane." Said Franky.

"Lieutenant?" asked Galveston, turning to his new boss.

"Okay." Said Jack. "But there's one thing you gotta do for us."

"What's that?" Drebbel asked.

"You need to get us and as much wounded as you can on some of those planes."

"That'd be—"

"That'd be what? Shit, those people have put their ass on the line for this Island. The least they can do is to get out of here alive... You know what the Japs'll do to them."

Franky Drebbel looked at Galveston, and Galveston nodded in agreement with Desouza.

"OK."

"OK, what? Shit, Drebbel, you better fly that plane your goddamn self if you have to!" said Desouza.

"OK, OK. I'll do my best. You have my word."

"Let's see if that means anything. Mount up, Galveston. We're headed to the airfield."

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