Division would not have at least received a report on the incident, even if he were not personally involved, and so his blanket denial is no real counter to the other evidence, both contemporary and in retrospect. In 1972 Mohammad Hatta gave the following account: “The Dutch attacked . . . and . . . Tan Malaka was fighting on his own principles, not joining in, not opposing the Dutch but rather creating confusion. This was the explanation from Sungkono, the commander for East Java. Because of this, he said, he ordered Tan Malaka to be shot.”69
The most detailed account of the events surrounding Tan Malaka’s death did not emerge until 1959, when Sukatma, who had been part of Tan Malaka’s bodyguard in Blimbing, came to Djamaluddin’s house in Jakarta and narrated his recollection. This account substantiated the bare details uncovered in the Partai Murba investigation of 1949 and has been accepted by the party as accurate.70 Sukatma was in the group captured at Blimbing, but he managed to escape. Following the events, he changed his name and rejoined the army. I was able to find him in Jakarta in 1972 and to tape an interview with him, which corresponds to the story related by Djamaluddin following the meeting with Sukatma in 1959.71
I conclude this biographical sketch with Sukatma’s story. Some of its details conflict with other accounts, but this is the most detailed, and is purportedly from an eyewitness to the events. I have no hard evidence that the Sukatma I spoke to in 1972 is the same individual who came to see Djamaluddin Tamim in 1959, nor that he was the survivor of the 1949 killings. But his story tallies with that reported by Djamaluddin of the 1959 meeting, and also with other accounts of the attack. Further, he was recognized by people who had been present at the Sabaruddin headquarters in the days preceding the attack. I have no reason to suspect that the story is a fabrication.
Sukatma did not see Tan Malaka killed. But there are no confirmed reports of his appearance after he was taken away from Sukatma and the other guards. One can only agree with Sabaruddin’s brother: “If they killed the guards, how much more likely are they to have killed the one being guarded.”72
Sukatma was a Sundanese from Banten, West Java, who had fought in the Lasykar Rakyat Jawa Barat. In 1946 he moved to East Java and joined the Terpedo Berjiwa militia under the leadership of Captain Hanafi, based in Kepanjen.73 Sukatma reports that after the confusion surrounding the Dutch attack, he fled to Kediri and there met up with Captain Dimin, who had been his section commander in the Terpedo Berjiwa. Dimin pressed Sukatma into joining his force again and, after a week or so in and around Kediri, took him to Blimbing.74 He was asked to take the assignment of bodyguard to the Oud Heer (Old Man) Tan Malaka.
The first night in Blimbing, Sukatma accompanied Tan Malaka to a wayang kulit (shadow play) performance in a neighboring village, and they returned to Blimbing at about 4:00 A.M. The following day nothing of particular interest took place, and Sukatma familiarized himself with the headquarters and the people there. About twenty people were on duty at the headquarters, and at night they were billeted in the houses of the village, two or four per house. Sukatma remained in a house with Tan Malaka.
He was awakened about 4:30 A.M. to find himself surrounded by bayonet-bearing soldiers wearing the emblem of the Macan Kerah (fighting tiger).75 They had apparently overcome the guards and appropriated weapons from the headquarters. Sukatma was ordered to squat on the floor, and it was then that he saw they had seized Tan Malaka from the back room and were guarding him closely. Some twenty people were rounded up and disarmed and then marched out of Blimbing at about 6:30 A.M.
Unaccountably, the Macan Kerah troops abandoned them at a certain crossroads about two kilometers from Blimbing. Shortly afterwards Sabaruddin arrived on the scene, dishevelled and disarmed; he too had been routed by the Macan Kerah while on operations. They decided to flee up towards the mountains, fearing to return to the headquarters. At about 10:30 A.M. they were resting and cooking corn when they heard shots and people shouting. In the confusion and in mists that were hanging heavy about them, the group split up. Sukatma made it his duty to stay close by Tan Malaka, and they ended up with three others of the guard: Teguh, Pak Ali, and Captain Dimin. Ironically, it appears that the people coming after them through the jungle were remnants of Sabaruddin’s own battalion, and not the Macan Kerah.
The group of five walked through the mountainous jungle for two days and nights. Tan Malaka, of long-standing poor health, found the going rough and developed a limp in his right leg. They moved down from the jungle to the rice fields below. At about four o’clock one afternoon they saw a main road and a food stand about a kilometer and a half away. Sukatma was ordered to go and buy some food. Initially he refused, fearing to arouse suspicion. Their torn and dirty cotton trousers made it obvious that they were on the run. However, remembering his duty as a soldier, he obeyed orders and headed for the food stand, bringing back six pieces of fried banana. Captain Dimin ordered him to return for more. On doing so, Sukatma was accosted by a group claiming to be from the Macan Kerah.
“Where are your friends?” they asked. I had no choice; they had guns on me. I showed them the way, and they took all five of us back to the food stand and then to a house in Parangan where we were held for the moment. They asked us not a single question. At about 7:15 P.M. Tan Malaka asked me to find him a masseur, as his right leg was in pain.
Around eleven or twelve o’clock a platoon or so of soldiers arrived at the house. Four of them entered, behaving respectfully as if to their superiors. “Bapak, we have been ordered to take you away tonight.”76 And I heard Tan Malaka reply, “If you’re going to take me away and kill me, get an authorization or ask permission from President Sukarno,” and I saw his hands shaking. “We’re only following orders,” they replied, and they took him outside, where they had a litter prepared for him, for they knew that we had carried him through the rice fields. “All right, all right, I’m coming,” said Tan Malaka. I tried to see which way they were taking him, but I was pushed away from the door. I don’t know where they took him; whether they killed him and, if so, what they used to do it with; whether they jailed him and, if so, where. I know nothing more after we were parted that night.
The next morning the four remaining members of the group were taken to Bogem. At dawn the following day they were moved again, this time to a small village alongside the Brantas River about a kilometer away from Bogem. They were placed together in a house, and then three of them—Captain Dimin, Pak Ali, and Sukatma—were moved to another house, leaving Teguh behind. Sukatma had just sat down on a bamboo cot when he heard the noise of a Johnson machine gun. All three were afraid it might be enemy (Dutch) troops about to capture them.
But someone said, “Don’t be afraid. It’s normal here. That’s the Dutch firing on the other side of the river.” I was calm again. About five minutes later someone came and took all three of us back to the other house. Teguh was no longer there. From outside we heard the order: “One of you come out.” Just like that. The one that went was Captain Dimin. We heard him cry out for help, begging for mercy. Then we heard words of abuse and the sounds of stabbing—tjok, tjok, tjok—dragging, then no more voices, only moans—aduh, aduh. . . . And then there was the sound of gunfire again. They came back. “One of you come out.” This time it was Pak Ali. He didn’t resist at all. They walked away, and then . . . more gunfire. Now I was the only one left. I remember it was about 5:15 or 5:30 in the morning.
There were people with ropes, clubs, hoes. I thought to myself, “If they tie me up I shall surely die. Just let them not tie me.” Again I heard the order, “One of you come out.” I didn’t want to die. I prayed to God not to let me die. Not because I had faith, but in the hope that God wouldn’t let me die just like that. “Move along.” “Yes, I’m coming. I don’t have to be shoved. I give in. I’ll do whatever you want me to.” I was taken to the edge of the river. I looked around. Yes, it was indeed a Johnson. It was braced against a small coconut palm so as not to shift. “Kneel,” they ordered. And with that I jumped into the river. I jumped as though I had been thrown, three-quarters of the way across the river. As I jumped
