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Jakarta

Embassy of the United States of America

The Deputy Head of Mission’s annoyance was evident at the meeting, that Henry Kissinger had convinced President Nixon to visit Indonesia at the most sensitive of times. Delegating this responsibility he had summoned the departmental heads to discuss the myriad preparations which needed to be addressed.

‘Before we move on to discuss the President’s program we’ll hear updates on West Irian,’ the career diplomat directed, passing the chair to the senior political adviser.

‘You will recall that our May monthly intelligence brief reported the surrender of the rebel leaders who have been fighting the Indonesians over the past two years.’ His eyes flicked around the polished table before he continued. ‘The Arfak tribe uprising drew a heavy response from Jakarta, with the military mobilizing an additional two infantry battalions from Sulawesi to quell the resistance. Jakarta’s propaganda machine insists that the Papuans are attempting to undermine the approaching vote to determine the question of Western New Guinea’s sovereignty, and that the increased Indonesian military presence is necessary to maintain the integrity of the plebiscite.’

The senior adviser was aware of Jakarta’s heightened concern regarding the deteriorating situation after popular rebellions had erupted across West Papua’s Western Central Highlands in April forcing the Indonesian military onto the defence. One hundred well-armed Papuan policemen mutinied and joined the Free Papua Movement. The adviser also recalled that General Sarwo Edhie, the territory’s Indonesian military commander, had ordered B-26 bombers into the theatre, and Indonesian paratroopers from West Java were flown in to hunt down the resistance fighters. The American official was also cognizant of the Indonesian counter attacks that had driven more than fifteen thousand Papuans into the hinterland and that demonstrations had flared across the territory resulting in Indonesian troops being attacked on the Bird’s Head Peninsula, and in Merauke.

‘What, if anything, will be the result of the Dutch entreaty to the UN?’ The CIA station chief wanted to know. He had been ostracised for not having indigenous agents on the ground, with the Agency dependent on US citizens within the missionaries to provide current information. Should the UN be receptive to the Dutch proposal, he envisaged the easy planting of CIA operatives among a multi-national presence.

‘UN Secretary General U Thant has dismissed the Dutch request to send in an expeditionary force, despite the Dutch arguing that such a move would neutralise the intimidation tactics employed by Indonesia’s armed forces. His refusal to consider the call reflects another clear illustration of the UN leadership’s collaboration with Indonesia to legitimise President Sukarno’s intended takeover of West Irian.’ The senior adviser paused then added cynically, ‘Not that Washington disagrees with U Thant’s position.’ Smug smiles accompanied nodding heads in silent concurrence. It would not be in the United States’ interests for the Papuans’ political rights as guaranteed under the terms of the 1962 New York Agreement to become a reality.

The meeting continued for another hour before discussions of White House matters commenced. When the Deputy Head of Mission was satisfied that at least some of the issues arising from President Nixon’s impending visit had been resolved, the diplomat left the meeting and, moving with his customary casual gait to the upper level, met with Ambassador Galbraith. That afternoon, within minutes of the embassy communications officer encrypting the ambassador’s sensitive report to Washington, the cable was in the hands of the recently-appointed Secretary for State, William P Rogers.

The transmission read:-

“Subject: The stakes in the upcoming “Act of Free Choice.”

The Act of Free Choice (AFC) in West Irian is unfolding like a Greek tragedy, the conclusion preordained. The main protagonist, the Government of Indonesia, cannot and will not permit any resolution other than the continued inclusion of West Irian in Indonesia. Dissident activity is likely to increase but the Indonesian armed forces will be able to contain and, if necessary, suppress it.

The Free Papua Movement (OPM) is not the all-pervasive revolutionary organization some believe it to be. ... anti-government dissidents have virtually no liaison with each other, receive no outside assistance or direction, and are generally incapable of mounting an insurrection in the face of the relatively large Indonesian military establishment in West Irian. Grievances and anti-GOI (Gruppo Operativo Incursori) sentiment are quite real, however, and there is little question that a great majority of the non-Stone Age Irianese favour a termination of Indonesian rule. Opposition to the GOI stems from economic deprivation over the years, military repression and capriciousness, and maladministration. Limited efforts of the GOI to rectify these problems to date are generally “too little and too late,” and it is uncertain whether the Indonesians will actually try to ameliorate the sources of local discontent in coming years.

The Free Papua Movement (OPM) is widely believed to be the core of opposition to the Indonesian Government in West Irian. But it is difficult to track down the OPM as an organization, although not because its security is tight or people are unwilling to talk. On the contrary, everyone talks about the OPM; it has few, if any, secrets, and many Irianese proudly proclaim they are “members” of the OPM. A foreigner travelling in West Irian has no difficulty in contacting anti-government activists. They stop you on the street and groups of them gather around when you visit a native village; in short, no one is reluctant to discuss the OPM and their reasons for disliking Indonesians. One American missionary explains this by saying that “the Papuans simply are unable to keep a secret.” Of course, information known to foreigners is also available to the Indonesian authorities, the Army, and even to the most casual observer. ... Regarding the magnitude of the opposition to Indonesian rule, probably a decided majority of the Irianese people, and possibly 85 to 90 percent, are in sympathy with the Free Papua cause or at least intensely dislike Indonesians.

As the Indonesian government firmly rejects a one-person, one-vote plebiscite in West Irian, insisting instead on a series of local ‘consultations’ with just over one thousand hand selected tribal leaders (out of an estimated population of eight hundred thousand), conducted throughout this month with between six thousand to ten thousand Indonesian troops spread throughout the territory. Past abuses have stimulated intense anti-Indonesian and pro-independence sentiment at all levels of Irian society, suggesting that “possibly 85 to 90 percent” of the population “are in sympathy with the Free Papua cause.” Moreover recent Indonesian military operations, which have resulted in the deaths of hundreds and possibly thousands of civilians, has stimulated fears and rumours of intended genocide among the Irianese…” (United States State Department Archives)

* * * *

British Embassy

On the third floor of the British Embassy in Jakarta political affairs First Secretary, Lawrence Nelson Whitehead sat pondering how he would occupy his spare time, after his wife returned home to England. With the end of her second trimester rapidly approaching, and British Airways’ policy banning pregnant passengers beyond their sixth month, it was time for Emily to depart.

Contemplating her upcoming absence, the MI6 station chief felt some consolation that at least he would not be subjected to his wife’s outlandish cravings. How Emily could devour those heavily-spiced Sumatran dishes was beyond him. He was pleased that at least she would be home with their extended family and on a more acceptable diet than chilli-pepper lung, brain and other disgusting offal dishes she had their houseboy smuggle into their residence from ‘kaki lima’, mobile food vendors that roamed Jakarta’s streets. The resulting reflux she endured worried the diplomat and constantly reminded him of the absence of decent medical facilities or advice. Although there was Doctor Mitchell, a British surgeon and Subud sect convert who had embraced Islam upon taking up residence in the capital, officially he was unlicensed to practice. This left Her Majesty’s Embassy staff reliant upon a former medical missionary the Australians had relocated from Port Moresby. The doctor had been engaged to provide basic care for embassy officials and their families. Whitehead mused the doctor’s services were available only when one was fortunate enough to find the man sober.

The intercom on Whitehead’s desk squawked as a subordinate attempted to communicate. He grabbed the antiquated box with one hand while slapping it with the other.

‘Lawrence?’ the speaker crackled. ‘Can you hear me Lawrence?’ The MI6 chief could hear the male voice cursing; the broken, one-sided conversation ending as the frustrated agent surrendered to the idiosyncrasies of the archaic system. Broken some six years earlier during his predecessor’s time, when embassy staff were preoccupied destroying files before abandoning the building, the system had never been updated. Having completed his training with the Secret Service in 1963, the British and Indonesians were engaged in a secret war known as Konfrontasi, Whitehead’s recollections of the time remained fresh in his mind. The country’s founding president, Sukarno, had declared unofficial war against the British Commonwealth nations of Singapore and Malaysia. British Gurkhas and Australian Special Forces were deployed along common borders with Indonesia. The Republic had been armed extensively by the Soviets with long-range bombers and other sophisticated weaponry. As these TU16 bombers had the capacity to strike Australian capital cities as far south as Melbourne the Royal Air Force positioned two Vulcan bombers in Singapore to counteract the threat. The British ambassador had been instructed to present his government’s message to the recalcitrant Sukarno and, when the president learned that Vulcan bombers were armed with atomic weapons and would fly regular missions over Indonesian airfields, he capitulated. The petulant leader then orchestrated elements of the powerful Partai Komunis Indonesia to demonstrate against the British, with the PKI’s leadership losing control over the unruly mob which proceeded to burn down the embassy and forty eight diplomatic residences. Whitehead recalled that it was during this low point in their relationship that Sukarno had ordered the nationalisation of British properties valued at more than $400 million. The gutted embassy had eventually been restored, but it was not until General Suharto had wrenched power from Sukarno that there were any significant steps taken, towards a rapprochement between the two powers.

‘Bloody intercom is on the blink again,’ the station chief’s senior field agent complained as he swept into the First Secretary’s office, bumping against a side cupboard in the cramped surrounds and knocking a recently depleted bottle of Johnny Walker on its side. ‘Don’t know how we are expected to operate efficiently under these conditions.’

Whitehead softly tapped his front teeth with a pencil. ‘What’s up?’ he asked, amused when the bottle rolled across his office. Jakarta’s buildings floated atop a soft layer of earth cushioned by a water table that rose to within a metre of the surface. When the Intercontinental Hotel had been built on the other side of the Selamat Datang welcome roundabout, the pressure exerted by the eight hundred-room structure caused the British Embassy to rise, and fall lopsided, more than thirty centimetres at the end closest to the hotel.

‘Had a call from Sander,’ the agent commenced, ‘Seems there’s quite a mob gathering outside their embassy.’ “Sander” was Alexander Hoffman, the First Secretary’s Dutch counterpart. Whitehead listened, the possibility of demonstrations at the Netherlands Embassy not unexpected.

‘Send Wilson,’ was all the MI6 chief had to say. The agent nodded and turned without further discussion, returning to the crowded quarters he shared with Wilson, the third member of the MI6 contingent based at the embassy.

Whitehead’s agents operated from a small discrete cell within the embassy, known as “the station”. Equipped with its own highly-secure communications systems and frequently swept for listening devices, the station was only accessible by the agents.

As head of station, traditionally Whitehead would function under the guise of a Foreign and Commercial Office Counsellor and his activities would be declared to Badan Koordinasi Intelijen (BIN), the Indonesian equivalent of the CIA, as much of his activities only involved general liaison. The other officers such as Wilson remained undeclared because they would spend a significant part of their time spying against the host country.

While reflecting on the competency of his two agents, Whitehead slipped into a ruminative mood, reassessing the successes (and failures) of MI6 operations in Indonesia. The British Secret Service maintained some fifty stations around the world and he was aware that Third World stations usually consisted of only one officer and a secretary. The size of a station reflected the importance of the host country in relation to Britain’s interests. Jakarta, due to Indonesia’s evolving pro-Western stance, had been upgraded to a three-man-station with a personal secretary, as President Suharto’s ‘New Order’ fascist regime was, potentially, a major customer for Britain’s weapons industry. London, he knew, was preparing the groundwork in anticipation of a revitalised Asian arms race. Indonesia was prioritised as its armed forces were desperate to replace their antiquated Soviet arsenal with Western product. Also, should the possibility of Indonesia losing West Irian to an independence vote in any way compromise Britain’s military sales’ prospects, then Her Majesty’s Government would support and encourage Jakarta to absorb the territory by whatever unobtrusive means possible.

Whitehead’s eyes canvassed the wall of his domain, drawn to a wall plaque that he had inscribed as a constant reminder of any nation’s vulnerability, when overly dependent on its intelligence-gathering apparatus and personnel.

“In the eyes of posterity it will inevitably seem that, in safeguarding our freedom, we destroyed it. The vast clandestine apparatus we built up to prove our enemies’ resources and intentions only served in the end to confuse our own purposes; that practice of deceiving others for the good of the state led infallibly to our deceiving ourselves; and that vast army of clandestine personnel built up to execute these purposes were soon caught up in the web of their own sick fantasies, with disastrous consequences for them and us.”

Malcolm Muggeridge

May 1966

The MI6 station chief’s secretary knocked once then entered. ‘Your wife called ... again,’ she informed, not without a hint of annoyance, ‘... to remind you not to be late.’

Lawrence Whitehead checked his wrist. ‘Might not be such a bad idea to leave a little earlier for the airport, what with the demonstrations gaining momentum. Have my car brought around then call my wife to inform her I’m on my way to take her to the airport.’

* * * *

Royal Netherlands Embassy

Army recruits dressed in civilian attire scrambled from army transports parked in an adjacent street. They jogged towards the Dutch Embassy, their crew-cut hairstyles and military boots obvious to onlookers parked not so discreetly in diplomatic-plated vehicles, snapping photographs, monitoring the demonstration. Amongst these were British, American and Australian observers whose countries shared common interests in the world’s largest Moslem nation’s recent shift towards democracy. The Soviets had long lost interest following President Sukarno’s downfall, his demise spiraling the world’s third largest Communist party into oblivion. Having provided (and lost) hundreds of millions in both military and commercial aid Moscow now maintained a more pragmatic approach to Jakarta, diverting much of their energy to North Vietnam.

The soldiers infiltrated the scene waving placards demanding the Dutch Government withdraw its request for United Nations troops to be stationed in West Papua. Within minutes the gathering degenerated into a hysterical mass of screaming demonstrators, when military provocateurs commenced throwing missiles over the entrance’s two-metre walled barrier, into steel-shuttered windows.

Chants of ‘Belanda pulang!’ and ‘Belanda jangan campur tangan!’ could be heard reverberating along the street, the calls for the Dutch to go home and cease interfering in domestic issues gathering momentum as another truckload of agitators joined the fray. Dutch Embassy staff had commenced implementing Level Two readiness orders which effectively shutdown all Consular services to the general public.

* * * *

Although it was unlikely the demonstrators would breach embassy security, First Secretary Alexander Hoffman, or “Sander” as he was more commonly called was, nonetheless, reminded of the recent attack against the nearby Singapore Embassy in the elite central suburb of Menteng. At the time, even he had been surprised with the viciousness of the assault, recalling that the retributive attacks were in retaliation to Singapore’s hanging of two Indonesian commandos. The men had penetrated the island’s defences and detonated a bomb at the Hong Kong & Shanghai Bank, killing two — and partially destroying the Australian High Commission. He had seen Jakarta’s normally gridlocked streets transform eerily into traffic-less avenues when the soldier’s bodies were transported from Kemayoran to the hero’s cemetrey, Kalibata.

Sander had anticipated the demonstrations having received warnings from informants. He had assessed the volatile climate and the potential for spillover from the current Malaysian riots which, since erupting the month before, had already claimed two hundred lives. As a senior intelligence officer, it was his responsibility to monitor not only Indonesia’s domestic situation, but also that of neighbouring countries. He had read the briefs concerning the Malaysian State of Emergency, surprised when the Malaysian Parliament had been suspended. He and others amongst the diplomatic corps had expressed concern that the racially-driven unrest might spread across the Malacca Straits and result in a repeat of the 1965-66 purge, which near-decimated Indonesia’s ethnic Chinese population. Sander was also disquieted by the opportunity such instability offered the military-driven Indonesian Government to implement covert, state-sponsored terror campaigns as it had so effectively initiated over the past three years since General Suharto’s coup d’etat in March 1966.

* * * *

Sander’s eyes remained transfixed on the dossier’s contents — the First Secretary momentarily mesmerised by the lifeless, black and white imagery of the murdered Dutch missionary Jeanne Heynneman. He remained in silent contemplation, the tips of his right hand unconsciously brushing imaginary dust from the stark photograph, his mind wandering back a year to when he had last spoken to the woman.

* * * *

‘Then you won’t reconsider?’ Having learned of Jeanne’s missionary appointment which would take her to West Irian, Sander had invited her to the embassy to seek her cooperation in providing regular, on the ground information which might be of value to the Dutch Government. Sander was a serving Dutch Army officer actively engaged in security matters under the auspices of LAMID, the Netherlands Army Intelligence Service. As was the situation with other Western nations, they were bereft of intelligence assets across the huge West Irian expanse, the Dutch marginally ahead in the game benefitting from missionaries who had remained in the territory, subsequent to the effective annexation in 1963.

Jeanne Heynneman’s in-country presence had become known to embassy officials some three years earlier when she had pleaded for The Hague’s intervention on behalf of her Papuan husband, Johannes. He had been arrested following the September 1965 failed Communist takeover, falsely accused of participating in Left Wing subversive activities and, along with some twenty-thousand other political detainees, incarcerated without trial at the infamous Nusa Kambangan prison.

‘I’m sorry, Mister Hoffman,’ she had refused adamantly. ‘I would not be comfortable doing so. My work as a missionary for the Council of Churches cannot be compromised.’

Sanders, disguising his disappointment persisted. ‘I cannot give you any guarantees, Jeanne, but your support in this matter might encourage our government to reconsider your husband’s situation.’

A year had passed and yet Jeanne Heynneman’s response still reverberated in his ears.

‘Then you haven’t heard?’ was her accusatory response. ‘My husband Johannes was transported to Buru Island Prison.’ Sander recalled the pit forming in his stomach as she rose, preparing to leave. ‘Where he survived only a few weeks.’ Hesitating at the doorway she turned, fire in her eyes. ‘You will forgive my being bitter. All I have left now Mister Hoffman is God’s work and my son, Julius. Please do not approach me on this matter, again.’

Sander returned to the present reminded that Jeanne had a child. He rifled through the dossier photographs but found nothing except a file annotation referring to one Julius Heynneman whose birth had been recorded with the consular section. The First Secretary was not surprised that the boy’s mother had registered Julius with her maiden name, concluding that the father, Johannes, as was the custom in Indonesia, most likely never used his family surname.

A telephone rang interrupting his introspective mood.

‘Ambassador has summoned everyone to his office,’ the Consul alerted. ‘The demonstration appears to be getting out of hand.’ Sander filled his lungs slowly, initialed the report and closed the file, clearing his desk of all sensitive material which he then had locked away in the central registry’s vault, the fugacious thought of Julius Heynneman’s whereabouts lost to more pressing priorities.

* * * *

Australian Embassy

“Our aim is not to be impartial (with respect to Indonesia) for the sake of impartiality but to have the appearance of impartiality so that the message we want to deliver will be delivered successfully.”

Paul Hasluck, Australian Minister for External Affairs, during the period known as The Years of Living Dangerously.

‘Selamat datang, tuan.’ The seemingly ageless Indonesian security guard known as Pak Ali welcomed the frequent visitor. Holding the pale blue Holden sedan’s rear door open with one hand and saluting with the other he enquired, courteously, ‘Kapan datang tuan?’

Special envoy Jonathan Meyers’ limited Bahasa Indonesia vocabulary let him down. Although he understood the question asking when he had arrived, the Canberra intelligence bureaucrat reached into a trouser pocket and passed an unopened packet of Camel cigarettes to the beaming seventy-year old.

‘Terima kasih, tuan.’ Pak Ali’s head bobbed with gratitude as he thanked the dwarfing figure, leading Meyers up the embassy steps to the lobby.

Meyers approached the reception desk manned by a Commonwealth Police officer.

‘The Counsellor is expecting you, Sir.’ The guard’s rehearsed one-sided working smile jacked a lower cheek as he rotated the visitor’s book around for signature.

‘Ah, you’re here,’ Meyers was greeted by the Counsellor, who ranked directly below the ambassador in seniority. ‘Perfect timing.’

They shook hands, the Counsellor nodding perfunctorily in the guard’s direction before escorting the envoy through yet another security door to the unmanned elevator. The Counsellor pressed the button for the second floor, the pair rising in silence as the four-passenger lift which resembled an oversized dumbwaiter, carried them slowly upstairs.

Jonathan Meyers was taken to the Counsellor’s office and asked to wait there until the others assembled. Alone, he eased his corpulent frame into an executive chair and angled his head to enable a clear view of protocol avenue, Jalan Thamrin where children frolicked, splashing vehicles playfully, as they ploughed along the partially flooded thoroughfare. Meyers had seen the capital’s roads inundated before, never ceasing to be amazed how the street urchins survived exposure to raw sewage that eructed from inadequate and overflowing canals.

Two hundred metres further up the street and adjacent to an open kali stood the Soviet-styled monument depicting a youthful couple, hands held in welcoming gesture, their statue centered in the roundabout’s neglected fountain. To the left he could see the British Embassy, dwarfed by the skeleton-like outline of the abandoned Wisma Nusantara skyscraper. He mulled sadly; the structure reflected the demise of the Indonesian economy in every way. The project had been poorly conceived, badly designed and now, with the funding misappropriated by corrupt officials, destined to remain an incongruous marker of how business was done in this country.

His thoughts returned to matters at hand. The weekly “prayers meeting” with the Ambassador and department heads had been postponed to permit the special envoy the opportunity to brief senior embassy officials regarding Canberra’s policy shift in respect to the forthcoming West Papuan vote. Meyers was all too familiar with the historical references that predicated Australia’s current dilemma. Subsequent to the cessation of hostilities following the ousting of President Sukarno, with relations between Jakarta and Canberra on the mend, Australian bureaucrats and the business community now advocated nurturing relationships with Suharto’s New Order elements; even if this resulted in West Papuans losing sovereignty to Indonesia.

Just months before, the newly appointed Australian External Affairs Minister, Gordon Freeth signalled Australia would accept the results of an act of self-determination in West Irian even though only one thousand representatives of the indigenous population would be selected to vote. Aware that the decision to support Indonesia’s proposed methodology in implementing the so-called Act of Free Choice would polarise many across the political and intelligence spectrum, Meyers, the Department of External Affairs SE Asian theatre special envoy, was there to discuss the ramifications of the revised policy.

Canberra was now confronted with how to accommodate Indonesia’s self-interest in moving to assume sovereignty over West Papua, whilst balancing the benefits of consolidating relationships with Suharto’s pro-Western “New Order”. Meyers accepted that this positioned Australia between two irreconcilable outcomes. Meyers knew that the Indonesian leadership, apart from any nationalist designs it held over the disputed territory, with General Suharto assuming power, the armed forces’ economic tentacles had already reached far into the area. Preempting the plebiscite’s outcome by issuing mining licenses two years before to the powerful American mining conglomerate, Summit Gold, the envoy understood why ABRI, the armed forces, were so profoundly opposed to West Papua’s separation.

The Counsellor returned to find Meyers deep in thought, gazing out through the double-glazed windows. ‘The ambassador and department heads are ready,’ he announced, one hand extended to usher the visitor down the passageway to the meeting. The envoy followed, nodding and smiling at familiar faces when he joined the gathering of the embassy’s most senior advisers.

Meyers had attended meetings in this inner sanctum before noting that nothing in the décor had changed since his most recent visit. An ornately carved desk separated the ambassador from the others, the attachés and others occupying a leather suite of armchairs positioned in a crescent row facing the Head of Mission.

‘I believe that introductions are not necessary?’ The Counsellor commenced as all present had attended such meetings together over time. ‘With your permission, Ambassador, we’ll ask Special Envoy Meyers to commence.’

The ambassador nodded affirmatively and Jonathan Meyers assumed the floor.

‘Gentlemen,’ he commenced, abandoning the customary acknowledgement to the ambassador. ‘On behalf of the Minister I wish to offer some insight as to how Canberra will proceed in support of Indonesia’s imminent assumption of sovereignty over West Papua.’

Without referring to notes, Meyer reminded those present of events which, over the previous months clearly reflected Indonesia’s determination to have its way.

‘When this country’s Foreign Affairs Minister Adam Malik declared that the “one man, one vote system” proposed by the United Nations was impractical and therefore not acceptable, one could say that this was the opening round in Indonesia’s more militant stance in securing the outcome over West Papua that we had previously wished to avoid. As you are aware, last month our ambassador challenged Adam Malik on if it were true that he had accused Australia of establishing training camps in Papua New Guinea close to the shared border with West Papua. Although Malik rescinded his earlier statement he did, nevertheless, suggest that such a development to be of concern to his government. ‘Part of my brief today is to confirm that we are, in fact, continuing to covertly expand our military presence directly along the shared border area, in response to the increased number of Indonesian military incursions into our mandated territory of New Guinea.’

None of the three defence attachés so much as raised an eyebrow, aware of the Australian Special Forces jungle-warfare training camps in the New Guinea highlands. SAS presence had commenced along the border earlier that decade when Indonesia had unofficially declared war against neighbouring states, dragging Australian troops into direct confrontation with Indonesia’s finest. SAS soldiers also undertook intensive training in the tropical environment to provide assimilation opportunities prior to taking up operations in Borneo and Vietnam. The attachés never discussed the black ops conducted by the SAS which often required cross-border search and destroy missions, resulting in deep penetration into Indonesian territory. Armed with the knowledge that border delineation both with Malaysia and New Guinea had never been clearly defined, in the unlikely event that SAS elements were captured, they were instructed to claim that they were not aware that they were on Indonesian soil.

‘Documented reports demonstrate that the Indonesians remained determined to ignore our objections to their military incursions into New Guinea. In April, fifteen uniformed Indonesian soldiers followed a group of West Papuan refugees to Wutung, firing at the Patrol Post constabulary who later reported several of the refugees being killed in the skirmish.’

‘And these attacks will continue unless we take them to task,’ the Army Attaché interrupted.

‘No doubt,’ Meyer affirmed. ‘The very reason we are beefing up our SAS presence along the border.’ Those present were all too familiar with the extremely arduous treks SAS troops endured across the New Guinea highlands, their presence not only a flag-raising demonstration but ostensibly a deterrent, as Australia was still responsible for New Guinea’s security. ‘As we see it, the mobilisation of additional forces will be revisited once the outcome of the Act of Free Choice has been accepted internationally which, hopefully, will result in a cessation of any further incursions.’

The three military attachés glanced at each other, unconvinced. Jonathan Meyers’ words were destined to return and haunt the next generation of Australian soldiers.

* * * *

One hundred miles north of the Indonesian capital, Jakarta, the modified long-range Boeing 707 Air Force One’s crew signaled to President Nixon’s aides that they would be making their final approach within the next minutes. An attendant moved swiftly through the aircraft and stopped at an appropriate distance before addressing the leader of the Free World.

‘Excuse me, Mister President,’ she smiled broadly, ‘the captain has advised that we shall be landing shortly.’ Nixon nodded without eye contact and returned to his notes prepared by Henry Kissinger, who had, only minutes before, completed his final briefing on the Republic of Indonesia.

President Nixon’s eyebrows squeezed together in a frown as he recalled Kissinger’s specific comments. He mentally revisited these, his adviser’s words coming back to mind; “General Suharto is a moderate military man, committed to progress and reform. When in discussion with Suharto you should not raise the issue of the West Irian plebiscite except to respond if Suharto mentions the territory. You need to demonstrate that the US is sympathetic to Indonesia’s concerns.”

Jet-lagged yet only partly into his Asia tour which would take him across SE Asia into Vietnam before returning to Washington, the furrows of Nixon’s wrinkled face deepened, lost in geo-political confusion. ‘What the hell has Iran got to do with this fellow Suharto?’ he had asked the US National Security Adviser.

The President did not detect Kissinger’s inaudible sigh. ‘Irian, Dick, not Iran. The Indonesians call West New Guinea, West Irian.’

Despite being advised of Indonesia’s real intentions and the obvious flaws evident in the Act of Free Choice, Nixon agreed with Kissinger’s position that it was imperative for the US not to create obstacles for the Indonesians. Since the Washington-Jakarta rapprochement following Suharto’s successful coup d’état, Kissinger knew the US was on the path for the Suharto-regime becoming increasingly pro-United States.

The recently elected president looked out the cabin window as the Boeing banked — his first imagery of the world’s largest Moslem country spread out below prompting the question in his mind. ‘How could this bankrupt nation be capable of paying for the military hardware they would undoubtedly require, to maintain their sovereignty over the fractious archipelagic nation?’

* * * *