Stories

As a married young man I left as a military for the Dutch Indies in October 1946. But like so many of my buddies, my marriage in Holland could not withstand the distance in time and place. I asked for a ‘separation in the field’, as we called it, which was the normal procedure that would be arranged by the military authorities to make me a free man. But the procedure came to nothing. This brought me into a quandary when I met Noes, my new love, in 1948 at the monthly dance party at the barracks.

As a soldier I was posted for driver work in the construction of a military airport near Tjililitan, near Jakarta, in mid-1949. I got to know a girl there. Her name was Anita or Wanita, I did not figure that out quite well. Our relationship only lasted two months. But it was very intense.

The story of mother A. about the sudden disappearance of her lover Bas

I worked as a nurse in the Navy Hospital in Surabaya. There I got to know B., a marine man who worked in the hospital. It was not exactly love at first sight. It has grown. You think: cute boy. I started to like him. We started dating. Eating together, dancing in the Marines canteen. Eventually nothing more than that, it was just fun. I got pregnant. That was how it went in those days, getting pregnant was part of the risk. But suddenly he was gone.

The story of veteran Bas about his daughter Rose

'A year ago I received a letter from the FIOM (organisation that helps reunite family members). My daughter was looking for me. That was a bolt from the blue. I was shaking in my seat, with the letter in my hands. Pictures and everything was in it. I was devastated. I knew everything was true, I recognized it all. It was so obvious, it was not necessary at all to ask for a DNA-test.

The story of Eduardine Geers (Ibu Ditty)

interviewed by Annegriet Wietsma, story written by Inge Manoch

In 2011 Ditty receives a birthday card from her aunt. Finally, finally, she sees for the first time a picture of the man who is her biological father, the Dutch military Eddy Geers. Why all this secrecy, why has it taken so long before Ditty cameto see this picture?

Het verhaal van Janet Booij over haar opa

Mijn opa, Arend Seine Booij, was Indiëveteraan. Om wat meer over zijn diensttijd te weten te komen, heb ik met veel veteranen gesproken. En heb kennis gemaakt met de zwijgcultuur onder hen. Een enkeling was erg open over het geweld in Indonesië, de meesten sloegen dicht als je er te rechtstreeks naar vroeg. De omgang met vrouwen lijkt, zo mogelijk, nog gevoeliger te liggen. Wanneer ik een veteraan die mijn opa gekend heeft mijn vermoedens over een kindje van hem in Indonesië voor leg, legt hij bij ons afscheid zijn vingers op zijn lippen. Hij zal mijn vermoedens met niemand delen.

(foto: Arend Booij is derde persoon van links)

In het dagblad Tubantia is een ontroerend interview verschenen met oorlogsliefdekind Andrea. Het artikel is hier online te lezen. Andrea deed al in 2010 voor het eerst haar verhaal op deze website: 'Ik vind Oorlogsliefdekind een mooie naam'

We hebben de tekst van het interview in de Tubantia ook hieronder geplaatst, voor degenen die het liever via onze website lezen:'Militaire vader wilde oorlogskind Andrea niet erkennen'. Je kunt verder lezen door 'Lees meer' aan te klikken.

A young Marine asks permission to marry his Indonesian 'sweetheart’. His commander is not amused and orders his immediate departure for Holland. The Marine leaves the barracks the day before his departure to join and unite with his love, but he never reaches her: he is arrested. During his imprisonment, between the cockroaches and mosquitoes, he desperately scratches a poem on the wall:

Unlike most of his military comrades who returned home with the promise to their warlove girls to take care of them and bring them to the Netherlands, 1st class soldier Jan does not want to leave his pregnant girl behind. When the troops leave, Jan stays with her ​​in Indonesia. Only after their baby is born, they can make the trip to the Netherlands together.

One day the phone rang. After answering the call, I thought, ‘so they finally found me.’ It must have been somewhere around 1979, I suppose my daughter was about 30 years old.