Indonesia’s first president Achmed Sukarno had earned power the hard way. He had fought the brutal regime of the Japanese during WWII and then defeated the returning Dutch, who had attempted to re-impose their colonial rule. By the early 1960s he was free to pursue his ultimate goal: ‘Malphilindo’, an economic and political bloc comprising Indonesia, Malaya, Singapore, British-protected Borneo (Sarawak and Sabah) and Brunei, and the Philippines. Indonesia and, by extension of this, Sukarno, would dominate the lot.
However, there was a glaringly-obvious snag: apart from British-protected Borneo, the nations targeted by Sukarno were sovereign and independent in their own right. Malaya, for example, had just emerged victorious from the struggle of a violent communist insurgency – labelled the Emergency – which lasted from 1948 to 1960. Its journey to democratic independence was hard won and would not be given up lightly.
Meanwhile, the British, who had done much to safeguard Malaya’s post-colonial independence, were unlikely to sit idly by and watch a belligerent Indonesia gobble up an ally.
The UK, Malaya and other Commonwealth allies in the region, agreed to the formation of a new federal state, Malaysia, which would be large enough and powerful enough to fend off Indonesia’s escalating militarism. The new nation would comprise Malaya, Singapore, British-protected Borneo, and the oil-rich sultanate of Brunei. It would formally come into existence on 16 September, 1963. In the event, both Singapore and Brunei would back out of the new country.
Reach for the gun
Sukarno and his ministers were quick to plot Indonesia’s response to the creation of Malaysia. They decided to either stall its formation indefinitely through the use of military action or, if this proved impossible, slowly weaken it to breaking point once federalisation had occurred. Indonesia would then step in and dominate.
Sukarno fired the opening shot of his campaign by backing a communist uprising in Brunei on 8 December, 1962. The British were swift to reply and army units were rushed to the sultanate and quickly restored control. Not to be dissuaded by this failure, Sukarno switched his focus into backing guerrilla incursions (supported by the regular army) from the Indonesian part of Borneo – Kalimantan – into British-protected territory.
A low-level war, the Confrontation, was declared on January 20, 1963. A number of months later, when more men and material were in place, and additional local guerrillas had been recruited, the Indonesians started making larger-scale raids. On 16 August that year the British Army engaged what a spokesman labelled ‘a group of about fifty Indonesian-backed terrorists’. The British wanted to avoid heightening the Confrontation and initially their response was defensive, attempting to destroy the enemy only when they infiltrated friendly territory. Despite these self-imposed operational constraints, Britain held a key advantage: with Burma and the Malay Emergency under its belt, its army had built up years of jungle know-how and among their best troops were the Gurkhas, the martial hillsmen recruited from the mountain lands of Nepal.
The British were blessed in leadership too: heading their response was General Walter Walker, an ex-Chindit and the founder of the British and Commonwealth jungle warfare school. But despite his talents, Walker still faced a daunting challenge: a porous 900-mile border, covered with some of most impenetrable jungle in the world, had to be defended against an experienced and much larger enemy.
At the start of the Confrontation there were roughly 20,000 Indonesians based along the border. In December 1962 Walker could only call on a single brigade of infantry composed of three battalions with 15 helicopters in support. As the Confrontation grew in scale and gravity he was given more material and reinforced with extra troops. When Walker passed on his command in March 1965, British and Commonwealth forces stood at roughly 18,000. Although it should be noted that Indonesia also increased its presence in the theatre as the Confrontation escalated.
Opening shots
At first the local population British Borneo remained wary of both sides – it was a case of waiting to see which nation would become dominant. If anything, there was a slight leaning towards Indonesia, which had the benefit of ethnic and cultural ties.
Unfortunately for Indonesia, her armed forces frequently intimidated the indigenous people and, in some cases, acts of a more extreme nature were recorded. An early example, and one that perhaps sums up the modus operandi of many Indonesian units, occurred in September 1963 at the village of Long Jawai.
Located around 30 miles from the border in Sarawak’s third division, Long Jawi contained a post manned by four Gurkhas (two NCOs and two Riflemen of the 1st/2nd KEO Gurkha Rifles) and two men from the local Police Field Force (PFF). Supporting them were 21 border scouts – militiamen recruited by the British from the local population. The post’s HQ and signal centre was built inside a school hut – not an ideal place, but the local people had been unwilling to help the Gurkhas set up a defensive position on a hill to the east of the village.
On 25 September Captain John Burlinson arrived at Long Jawai with Corporal Tejbahadur Gurung (charged with taking over from one of the NCOs at the post) and two riflemen with a light machine gun (LMG) to bolster the post’s defence. Burlinson convinced the locals it was in their interests to help build defences up on the hill and to assist the Gurkhas relocate the HQ and signal centre there. Unfortunately, there were problems with the radio antennae and so the sets remained in the village with three men assigned to signals until new and more effective masts arrived. The rest of the force was stationed on the hill. Burlinson and the replaced NCO left on September 27.
Unknown to the Gurkhas, they were not the only visitors to Long Jawai. An Indonesian reconnaissance force had been hiding in one of the village longhouses and was now reinforced by a full-scale raiding party. On the early morning of 28 September, a border scout left for the village to visit his sick wife and on the way he spotted some of the enemy. Unseen, he raced back to the hill and informed Tejbahadur. Unaware of the size of the threat, Tejbahadur rushed to the three signallers and told them to call in for support from headquarters, located 70 miles away at Belanga. The Corporal then grabbed a case of grenades and returned to the hill.
The moment he reached the top, Tejbahadur and his men came under automatic and 60mm mortar fire. Down in the village the signallers were desperately trying, but failing, to make contact with headquarters – the region was notoriously difficult for effective communications. Aware of the operators’ position, the Indonesians raked the school hut with gunfire, killing one Gurkha and one PFF operator instantly. The surviving PFF trooper managed to escape and stagger away despite being wounded.
Overwhelming odds
Up on the hill, the Gurkhas were returning fire and putting up a spirited defence. But the border scouts with them began to lose faith and started to slip away down the reverse slope and over to a nearby stream. Here they were captured by the Indonesians and frog-marched away. Lagging slightly behind, one scout saw his comrades taken prisoner and decided to return to the Gurkhas.
With just four men to call on, Tejbahadur was facing overwhelming odds. One Gurkha Rifleman had already been killed by mortar fire, while another was wounded in the leg by a bullet. Having fought for a number of hours, the ammunition was running low, while the enemy was getting bolder by the minute. Tejbahadur prudently had his men retreat into the jungle.
After covering as much distance as possible, they left the wounded man in cover with what medical supplies they had. They then struck out to reach the nearest Scout post at Long Linau. On meagre rations and over difficult terrain they arrived a few days later to find that a border scout, who had managed to evade the Indonesians, had made it there before them and already raised the alarm. Although tired and weary, Tejbahadur and his men continued on to headquarters at Belaga, where they gave a full report of the attack. For his determination and level-headed leadership, Tejbahadur was awarded the Military Medal.
In the meantime, the Indonesians had plundered Long Jawai before continuing on with their mission. On setting up camp they took their captive border scouts to one side and murdered ten of them. Retribution for this crime was not far off: Gurkha units had been dropped in by helicopter and had already begun to hunt the raiders down. One Gurkha unit arrived in Long Jawai to find it ransacked and deserted. They also found the wounded soldier left by Tejbahadur and sent him back to receive medical attention.
By 1 October, two more Gurkha platoons arrived in the area to reinforce operations and results were starting to be obtained, including the successful ambush of a 26-man unit from the Indonesian raiding party. It was around this time that a border scout, Bit Epa, also came forward and directed the Gurkhas to the campsite where his comrades had been murdered. Five Indonesian graves were also discovered: Tejbahadur and his men had paid the enemy back with interest.
The Gurkhas carried on searching for the raiders, ambushing stragglers and small units detached from the main incursion party, which still eluded them. With great regret it was eventually admitted that the bulk of the enemy had reached and crossed back over the border into the safety of Kalimantan. This early incursion had proven extremely costly for Indonesia. They had suffered casualties and, more importantly, they had lost the trust of the local population, particularly with the brutal slaughter of the border scouts. Conversely, the Gurkha’s swift reaction had impressed the villagers. From then on, the British received invaluable intelligence passed on willingly by locals regarding any Indonesian movements along or over the border.
Uncorking Claret
Incursions by the Indonesians continued apace elsewhere in Borneo, although their raids were not producing the results Sukarno wished for. By 1964, he had decided to raise the stakes and gave clearance for regular Indonesian units to be used in a more overt fashion. Politically, Sukarno was now leaning on the Indonesian Communist Party to support in his vision of Malphilindo. Through their influence (or perhaps coming to his own conclusions), Sukarno came to believe that an Indonesian attack on the Malay Penisula would revive the defeated communist movement there. A new Emergency would, he believed, force his enemies to concede at the negotiating table.
Unfortunately for Sukarno, the area was brimming with Commonwealth and Malaysian forces, while the communist units meant to instigate the uprising existed only on paper. Indonesian incursions, which could only be small due to the total lack of air and naval superiority, were easily crushed. Britain, Malaysia, Australia and New Zealand were now more resolved than ever to thwart Sukarno, with the latter two nations now sending men and material to help in the fight. General Walker was also given permission to push forward with his plans for counter incursions – covert missions that would strike targets 5,000 yards within enemy territory. The umbrella title under which these missions went by was ‘Operation Claret’, and only units well-versed in jungle warfare were to be used. Given their experience, a greater share of the initial burden fell upon Gurkhas. But as they have proved time and again in their history, the men from Nepal not only met the challenge, but then exceeded the expectations of higher command.
Claret operations primarily targeted zones in and around Indonesian bases and their supply routes. By 1965 the Gurkhas and other British units were striking deeper into enemy territory by up to 20,000 yards. One sizeable Claret mission of this time was ‘Operation Kingdom Come’. In early August 1965, Colonel ‘Nick’ Neill, commander of 2nd Battalion of the 2nd KEO Gurkhas, had formulated his unit’s part to be played in the operation and outlined his plan to a small audience at Battalion HQ, which included 24-year-old commander of C Company, Captain Christopher Bullock.
Across the border, the Indonesians were using the River Sentimo to ferry men and material to a fairly sizeable base at the village of Babang Baba. Neill was determined the flow of supplies and command of the waterways to Babang Baba should be interrupted. Three 2nd Gurkha companies – including C Company – and one SAS squadron were ordered to infiltrate enemy territory and make a series of river ambushes along a ten-mile front within five to seven miles of enemy territory.
Having been moved in close to the border by helicopters, C Company crossed into Indonesian territory on 14 August. Also moved into location by helicopter and in support of C Company was a 105mm howitzer, a radio re-broadcast station and a number of mortars.
One of the greatest difficulties faced by Bullock was the lack of detailed maps, which contained large uncharted segments. Rations were fairly spartan: rum, sardines, dry biscuits, rice and a form of dried sprat, known as ‘Ikan Bilis’. Sleeping equipment was fairly rudimentary, including a waterproof sheet, light sleeping bag, and a mosquito net, which was vital if one wanted to avoid waking up the next day resembling a pin cushion. Average load, despite trying to keep the weight down, was about 80lb.
The first part of their journey was through secondary jungle. The weather was hot and the men quickly became drenched in sweat. When they reached primary jungle it became cooler, the vast canopy shading them. It had also started to rain. For every hour spent moving through the jungle, the Gurkhas stopped for ten minutes in order to maintain strength. However, the men were constantly on guard for fear of ambush. Encampment was made at roughly four o’clock – any earlier would waste valuable marching time, while any later and it would start to become dark and near impossible for the soldiers to cook up their rations (using smokeless stoves). The firebase was contacted at this stage and given co-ordinates for fire support should it be needed. The men would rise early and get back on the move by 04:45.
C Company eventually entered a vast swamp, which Bullock vividly remembered wading in to. ‘The feeling of going up to the thighs in a slush of brown water and decaying vegetation was always abysmal,’ he recalled. Eventually, the Gurkhas reached firmer ground on an island. Telling the bulk of the men to rest up, the captain and a team of troops headed forward to make a reconnaissance.
They moved through more swamp towards some low hills that were, if the map was correct, just east of the target. Although it was getting dark, Bullock wanted to gain a fuller picture and so continued, eventually reaching a river. Following it, they soon came across a cleared jungle path. At this point the Gurkhas suddenly heard the sound of voices coming closer and so dived into the undergrowth. A group of Ibans – local tribesmen – came down the path followed by their dog, which soon picked up the scent of the Gurkhas and decided to make further investigation. Fortunately one of the Ibans issued a sharp command and the dog scampered off after its master.
When it was safe to do so, the captain had one of his most agile men climb a tree to try and gain a fuller picture of their location. The young soldier reported that they were about 100 yards south of Babang Baba. In poor light, it took Bullock and his men three hours to return to the main encampment.
Death on the river
By 11:00 on the next morning, C Company had moved out of the swamp into the low hills. Bullock then took an advance party out for further reconnaissance, leaving the others – especially those who had contracted dengue fever – to rest and for the Forward Observation Officer (FOO) attached to them, John Masters, to determine his fire plan.
The reconnaissance party reached the River Sentimo and found it flooded; Bullock and his men returned to C Company and organised two patrols to scout for favourable ambush sites along the riverbank. Accompanying one of the patrols, Bullock headed southwards and found an old path next to the river where the floodwater was shallower. He decided the site was a fair one and would do for the purposes of an ambush.
On the next day, Bullock took one platoon to lay in ambush, while ordering another platoon to head up a hill over-looking the area to offer support. John Masters went with them to direct covering artillery fire should it be required. The remainder of C Company was stayed at the main encampment as a reserve. At the ambush site a general-purpose machine gun (GPMG) was placed on the far right, while an LMG was set up on the left.
The hours ticked slowly by and, apart from two local Ibans paddling by, there had been no river traffic. On the next day, the only living thing to pass the Gurkhas was a monstrous python. It decided to swim on, much to everyone's relief.
After four days of laying ambush, the enemy finally decided to show. At midday a small motor boat hove into view, carrying four regular Indonesian army men. The signal to fire was given and the GPMG burst into life, instantly followed by the guns of the rest of the ambush party. ‘The occupants were killed instantly and the boat overturned, a khaki cap drifted mournfully past me, separated forever from its owner,’ Bullock wrote.
Indonesian forces in the area were not slow to react. A second longboat, carrying a platoon’s-worth of soldiers landed on the riverbank and its occupants immediately sprung into action, trying flank the ambush party. Incoming fire was also taken from Babang Baba. It was abundantly clear to Bullock that now was the time to retreat. Also at this point, the first ‘crump’ of a British 105mm shell could be heard landing in or near Babang Baba, as Masters called in for artillery support.
Getting back to the hill, Bullock rapidly checked all were present and correct and, along with the reserves and the FOO, struck out to reach C Company’s main encampment site. As a leaving ‘gift’ for the following Indonesians, Masters had radioed the hill’s co-ordinates for the 105mm howitzer to shell after they had left.
This done, Bullock, the ambush party and the reserves met up with the rest of C Company and within minutes all were heading back to the border as fast as possible.
Once back at main headquarters, Bullock and his men were congratulated on their success. They were also informed another Claret mission was in the offing within a matter of days and that C Company had been earmarked to take part; not exactly the sort of news dog-tired men wanted to hear. Despite this, it was time to celebrate – Gurkha style. Bullock remembers drinking a number of ‘Rusty Nails’ (shots of whiskey and liberal lashings of Drambuie) followed by traditional Nepalese songs. ‘A succession of young soldiers stood up and sang and danced their tribal lays from the high Himalayan villages of Nepal,’ the captain recalled.
The Battle of Bau
