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15 October 2014
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Nel’s Story: Part I: Looming War: Indonesia 1942

by anak-bandung

Contributed byÌý
anak-bandung
People in story:Ìý
Nel Elfring, then Nel Halberstadt-Elfring, later Nel Mercier-Elfring and Rob (Hab) Halberstadt, sergeant pilot in the KNIL
Location of story:Ìý
Java, Indonesia
Background to story:Ìý
Civilian
Article ID:Ìý
A2796131
Contributed on:Ìý
30 June 2004

Introduction

Nel Elfring was born in April 1922 as the eldest child of Herman and ‘Mies’ Elfring, a Dutch couple living in Bandung on West Java, in Indonesia — then the Dutch Indies. Herman was a successful manager of the large bookstore Visser and Co.
Nel, a keen swimmer, met her future husband Rob Halberstadt, rather painfully, in a swimming pool by crashing into him while diving. Rob, ‘Hab’ amongst his friends, was a sergeant pilot in the Royal Dutch Indies Airforce (KNIL), stationed at Andir airbase near Bandung.
It was love at first sight and touch!
The couple soon married in November 1941 amidst darkening times. Holland was at war with Germany. The only means to get in touch was by an occasional postcard with the restriction of a 25-word message. Rob managed to let his family know about his intending marriage and was lucky to receive a reply back
The threat of a Japanese invasion was about to become reality.

After the wedding they travelled to the airbase in Madiun, in Mid-East Java. The whole squadron was housed in a colossal and typical Indonesian house.
A few golden weeks followed, although overshadowed by the threatening war. The boys had to be away a lot on sorties. From here Nel will tell her story in her own words.

War is looming

Some of Rob’s colleagues fetched us from the station in Madiun and took us to the boarding house where Rob had already settled before our wedding. It was a colossal house with an enormous front veranda, containing large pots with various ferns. In the middle of the veranda stood a large rattan table surrounded by many rattan chairs. Behind the veranda was an enclosed sitting room and behind that again an enormous dining room with two large fridges.
On the left of the sitting room was our room with very beautiful bedroom furniture made from djati wood. The large bed had a klambu (mosquito net), which was attached to a large, wooden ring, making it look like a veil around the bed. There was a lovely dressing table on which my silver hairbrush set took pride of place. It also had a big cupboard and a seating area, where we could withdraw if we wanted to be private. The furniture would later end up in our new house that was in the process of being built.

When we arrived ‘home’, the owner, Miss van Leeuwen welcomed us. She was a lovely Indonesian lady, who worked for the telephone service. She had made up our bed and had placed white melatti flowers (Jasminum sambac) on our pillows. This was a native custom for bridal beds, Miss van Leeuwen explained in a thick Indonesian accent.
After enjoying a delicious ‘rijsttafel’ (a rice meal with many different dishes) and a pleasant ‘night-cap’ with the group of pilots who also lived in the house, we had a bath and retired to our bedroom. I was already in bed when Rob got in on his side. I noticed that the klambu was not quite shut properly and said that we had to make sure it was done, as Madiun was infested by mosquitoes. Rob stretched out backwards and tried to loosen the pulley. I apparently foresaw a catastrophe and quickly rolled out of bed, heard a bang and than a groan….
When I dared to look I saw Rob sitting up in bed with the klambu ring firmly wedged around him.…… I was in no state to say a thing……
That night we slept with the klambu rolled around us. I can’t say it had helped much for the following day we were full of bites. His colleagues had a great laugh.
I still had a lump on my forehead from our wedding night (the bed had collapsed) and Rob now had an enormous one on his from the klambu ring. We were quite a pair and were teased about it for many more days to come.

At war

It was close to ‘Sinterklaas ‘ ( St Nicholas celebration on 5 December) and Rob was on picket-duty, which meant he was not allowed to go home. My mother rang me and said she had bought a lot of Dutch delicacies at our ‘langganan’ (grocer) and that she would like me to come and fetch them. The family looked forward to see me again as well. So I took the train to Bandung. It was not a journey of a just few hours!
At home I received a case full of cake, biscuits and sweets. It also contained a variety of presents for the boys in our boarding house.
On 10 December I returned to Madiun and on the veranda I was waylaid by a sobbing mevrouw van Leeuwen.
Japan had declared war.
I felt dazed. It just did not register. I was standing there holding a suitcase full with sweets and presents….
When Rob and the other boys came home late that evening we divided the lot and tried to make it an enjoyable evening.

The following day we had to get up very early, because the boys had to go to the airbase for further instructions. It was a horrible period. You did not know what was happening. I was sitting on the veranda a lot, feeling lonely and miserable. So many treasured memories had already been born in this house, memories that would later remind me again what happened during these months.
The golden days had gone.
A few days later Bill van Bers had to go on duty and was shot down.
Frans Beerling, Rob and Ben Roumimper had to go as well. They were strictly forbidden to say where they were going, it was a secret mission.
Rob whispered to me that he would phone me when he knew more. There I was, far away from home, alone and afraid.
That evening, a courier came and handed me a letter from the Department of War. It referred to my salary. I had to stay in Madiun. Should I leave I would no longer be eligible to receive my salary.
A colleague’s wife came by some time the following morning and asked me what I was going to do. Just before that I had received a telephone call from my father who advised me to take the first train back to Bandung, but I did not dare. I was still such a newcomer in this confusing life.
The next day I received the liberating telephone call from my mother, who told me in a cooing voice ‘Little Robbie is so adorably busy, nibbling his chicken leg. He is becoming such a big boy now, isn’t he?’
I knew from Rob that they were not allowed to mention names and places and messages were delivered in code form. Now, if this wasn’t a code, I thought. Very clever.
But now I knew Rob was in Bandung and I packed a little case with some necessities and walked to the station. ‘There goes my salary’, I thought. But I no longer cared. I had to see Rob.

When I arrived in Bandung after hours of travelling, my father was waiting for me.
‘Nel, stay on the train, for Rob is in Batavia (now Jakarta). Here is the address. You have to ring when you arrive and they will meet you.’
The name did not mean a thing to me, but I managed to hold Rob in my arms that evening in total strange surroundings. It was only for two days and then I was told he was ordered to go to Surabaya (on East Java) and would ring me later with a possible address.
When I received that I once again got onto a train, now to Surabaya with no idea where about that was.
I arrived in the middle of the night, managed to get a vacant taxi and gave the address: Embong Wungu.
It was an unbelievable journey. There were no lights allowed, so it was pitch dark. The poor man drove at a snail’s pace and stopped each time he thought he heard an approaching vehicle. We could not see a thing. It was an unforgettable journey, finally ending in Embong. I paid, giving him a huge tip, for the man got me there in one piece.
The house was quiet, lugubriously quiet. There were a few rattan chairs on the veranda and I flopped down into one, totally exhausted.
Then I heard a soft scraping of feet and in the darkness a man appeared on the veranda.
‘Siapa ada?’ (who is there?), he whispered.
Not knowing who he was, as I had only an address without a name, I whispered back ‘Nel Halberstadt’.
‘Nel? Hab’s wife?’
‘Yes’, and then I started to howl, first quietly then increasingly in strength.
There were more voices and I was taken inside to a room where a weak light was shining. I felt arms around me and a soft voice said ‘Have a good cry. Yes, you must be so tired.’
‘Is Rob here?’ I asked.
‘No, but he will be here tomorrow. He is now in ‘tangsi’ (barracks), but will be here tomorrow.’
Finally, after a nice cup of coffee I was given a bed and I fell asleep immediately.
The next day Rob came. I was so happy. The family’ whom we stayed with, was very nice (I no longer remember their name), but they were acquaintances of a colleague of Rob’s.

I did not feel very well and kept on feeling sick.
‘Nerves’, they said. ‘That’s understandable. You have been travelling so much’.
I was being spoiled. They did every little thing for me. However, that soon started to get on my nerves. I had to do something and after many discussions I became a courier.
I had to deliver messages and was given an enormous Harley Davidson for transport.
I had had motorbike lessons before, so I had no difficulties there. However, when somewhere outside Surabaya I slipped on a country lane, that damned bike shot out from under me. I managed to jump off on time and had to wait at the side of the road for hours. Finally, a ‘grobak’ (hand cart) came by and the man helped me to right the bike. Back on base I told the story and was given a lighter motor bike, a DKW.

Beginning of the end

On 3 February 1942 I went to the airbase and almost immediately the air raid alarm went off. Someone pulled me by the arm into a trench where a lot of other people were taking shelter.
A horrible sound that is, hearing an approaching air fleet.
In the meantime, fighter planes took off from our base. The superior forces were too great, far too great….
I watched the fighting and I saw the planes take a dive, burning….
I could no longer scream. I had recognised Rob’s plane by its number. He was so close and still so very far away. I then watched Rob shoot down a Jap and then saw how Rob’s plane took a dive….
Don’t ask me how I got home. I can’t remember whether somebody took me. This will always remain a mystery to me.
They had already informed the people in the house and they were waiting for me.
I woke up hearing a voice.
‘Yes, if you ask me she is pregnant, but only just. Let her sleep as much as possible.’
Later I was told it had been the doctor. They had called him after I had fainted.
I stayed a few more days with that family until I was able to ring my father and tell him what had happened. The darling was terribly upset and asked if I could come to Bandung straight away.
‘But I first have to collect my stuff from Madiun’, I said.

The next morning there was an incident.
The air raid alarm gave us the signal to crawl underneath a large iron bedstead. We had placed that bed on the covered back veranda and had covered it with a number of mattresses to stop any bullets. From our hiding place we saw the bombs hitting somewhere in the distance. Suddenly the sound of a plane in a dive — a bang — and we were thrown all over the place.
When we finally had recovered from the fright we saw, in the back garden, a Japanese plane nose down into the ground. We did not dare move from our hiding place, for you never knew. Then people warned us that the pilot was dead. They took him away later, but we stayed indoors. That was a dreadful experience.
The following day Captain Anemaet came to confirm that Rob had been shot down.

Then followed a very confusing time: stories about pilots who had arrived in Australia, somebody called Halberstadt, then perhaps not.
It was enough to make you feel desperate.
I rang Miss van Leeuwen in Madiun to find out what was happening there. When I told her that my husband had been killed she said ‘Come to me immediately, Non. I will help you.’
The next day I took a train to Madiun station where Miss van Leeuwen met me She told me that she had heard that the house Rob and I were having build in Ngrong was also damaged. I went to have a look with one of the boys who were home. Well, damaged was not quite a word I would have used. In the place where the house had stood was now a crater. At its edge an electric iron, still undamaged. I wanted to deposit it with an enormous kick with the rest but I forgot I wore open-toed shoes and ended up with a severely bruised big toe.

Back at Miss van Leeuwen I heard from the boys that they were ordered back to Bandung, very early in the morning, at five, by train. Frans Beerling told me the boys had decided to take me with them. He was sure that in the chaos I would not be discovered.
‘Put on one of Rob’s uniforms,’ he suggested, ‘and pack everything you want to take with you into his parachute bag. I will give you another one for his stuff.’
Feverishly I started to pack. Someone from the base would collect the bag with Rob’s clothing.
The next morning I walked between the boys to the station. I sat with them in the train compartment as long as there wasn’t any inspection. Whenever they came to check, I would dive into the toilet with one of them. He then would pretend to be busy there, sticking his hand with the warrant outside the door. This happened quite frequently. We managed it, however, and after an endless journey we arrived in Bandung.
My father was waiting for me, for before I had left I had rung to tell him I was coming home. The darling had been waiting there for hours.
‘Oh my God, girl, you stink!’ was the first thing he said to me.
I could not help that. I had been sitting for hours on a toilet!
‘You go and have a bath first’, he said. ‘Mother will unpack your bag.’
Oh, that bath! I could have stayed in it forever.
I then got a shock when mother was standing crying at the bathroom door.
‘There are only Rob’s uniforms in it, dear girl. Where are your clothes?’
In their hurry the boys had picked up the wrong parachute bag!
We tried to contact Madiun, but the chaos was indescribable there and a few days later we were told that all connections were broken.
Yes, there I was, literally and figuratively: bare. I had nothing left.
I had to wear some of my mother’s clothes and went to the toko (shop) the following day to buy something new for myself, also something for a baby, which was now becoming a fact.

The next few days have imprinted themselves on my mind.
Waking up with the realisation that I would never see Rob again.
Where would he have come down?
Would he, perhaps, still……?
Feeling nauseous with the pregnancy.
Retreating soldiers bivouacking in our garden….

After a couple of days, papa asked me if I would like to come and work in the store. There was much to do, which was good, for it made me forget my sorrow a little.
This lasted for some time until the Jap started making difficulties and we no longer were allowed to enter the store.
We were now non-persons.

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