the lost traces of war

I’m in a curious mood as I make my way down to Morotai. Ricky Avenzora, a documentary film maker who works for Indonesian screen star Christine Hakim and who has already been exploring the place for a month, warned me that stories of the Pacific War that had visited Morotai were not so easy to dig up. “Information is hard to come by,” he told me early one evening on the island of Ternate. “All you have to go on are stories passed down from generation to generation, which are often inaccurate in any case.”

This warning does little to discourage me. In fact, it merely heightens my curiosity and interest. Morotai became a conflict flashpoint during the later stages of World War II when the Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces in the Southwest Pacific Area, General Douglas MacArthur, turned this small island at the northern end of the Maluku chain into his military-operations base as he worked towards retaking the Philippines from the Japanese. On these pristine beaches, MacArthur sometimes sought respite from this onerous task by inviting locals to party and dance with him and his fellow soldiers.

It is these faded corners of military history that has brought me to Morotai and not want-ing to come home empty handed, as Ricky was afraid might happen, I have planned my trip very carefully indeed. Most importantly, I have asked Al-Aziz H Momanda, an experienced guide, to accompany me on my travels. As a member of staff at the North Maluku Office of Creative Tourism and Economy, Azis knows Morotai like the back of his hand. He is also fluent in several local languages – an impor-tant skill to have when exploring the seldom-visited interior of North Maluku.

Morotai lies to the north of Halmahera and is bordered by the waters of the Philippines to the north and the Pacific Ocean to the east. Most of the inhabitants of this 2,400-square-kilometre island (which makes it about four times the size of Jakarta) speak Galela, while others speak the languages of Tobelo and Kao, and my guide’s language skills proved vital when I came to interview some of the island’s elders, surviving witnesses to history who live in Morotai’s interior.

Having finished our preparations, we set off on our Maluku travels. The first leg involves making the crossing from Ternate to Sofifi by boat, which takes us about an hour. Landing on one of Halmahera’s western beaches, we are met by drivers and men offering vehicles for rent. These locals offer to take us to Tobelo, a town on the northern tip of Halmahera that is the jumping off point for the crossing to Morotai. The Sofifi-Tobelo leg of the journey can be completed by car and involves a five-hour drive up the eastern coast of Halmahera. We also have to negotiate hills and pass through villages and forests. The spectacular views of Kao Bay kept us awake during this lengthy trek.

“In a moment we will see the Japanese shipwreck that was bombed by the Allies,” Aziz intones, and our knowledgeable guide proves to be as good as his word. Our car soon takes a right turn off the highway and after another two kilometres or so, we arrive on the deserted, black sands of Sosol Beach. Far out to sea we can make out the half-submerged wreck of a ship, its layers of rust reflecting the strong sun. This is the first highlight of our retracing of history’s footsteps: the Tosimaru, a logistics ship that was sunk by Allied forces.

The sinking of the Tosimaru in Kao Bay is one of the war in the Pacific’s most tragic stories. The Japanese military base in Halmahera was determined to recapture Morotai and thousands of Japanese soldiers successfully infiltrated the north. However, the Allies’ marine and air patrols continually intercepted their shipments of food and medicine. The Tosimaru was one of the victims of this interdiction and the Japanese’s logistical supply line was repeatedly blocked. Thousands of Japanese soldiers, who were waging a guerilla war from the jungles of Morotai, thus died of hunger and disease.

Sosol Beach’s tranquil sands these days play host to a large number of Japanese visi-tors, who come here on pilgrimages and burn incense and joss sticks while whispering prayers. Over the black sands, the fragrance of incense permeates the air. Sometimes pil-grims read letters to their deceased grandfa-thers and fathers, who gave their lives on this lonely atoll. 

Prior to World War II, Morotai was just a tiny, little-known, clove-and-coconut-producing speck on the world map. This minuscule speck started to flash red in May 1944 when the Japanese built an airbase on the western coast of the island. Imperial Japan realised that Morotai’s geographical position was a perfect spot from which to face down the Allied forces in Papua and at the same time monitor their own occupation of the Philippines.

In mid-1944, the Japanese abandoned their new airbase as they were having difficulties managing its drainage system. They elected instead to strengthen their base in Halmahera and left only 500 soldiers on Morotai. MacArthur sensed this small opportunity and two months after the Japanese loosened their grip on the island, the Allies used dozens of warships to land a colossal force of 50,000 troops on Morotai. With a ratio of 100 to one, MacArthur’s troops subsequently conquered Morotai without any difficulty at all.

The Japanese did not take this defeat lightly. They knew only too well that MacArthur would use Morotai as a stepping stone from which to attack the Philippines before moving on to attack Korea. There was thus no other option for them than to seize Morotai back by deploying reinforcements from Halmahera.

One of the centres of Japanese power in Halmahera was located on the shores of Kao Bay. Not far from where the wreck of the Tosi-mori now lies, they built an airbase equipped with several bunkers and anti-aircraft artil-lery. One of these bunkers still survives and consists of two large rooms and a 15-metre corridor. To this day, the Jap-anese-built airstrip here (nowadays called Kuabang Airport) still functions and North Halmahera residents rely on it for their air transport.

After asar (afternoon Muslim prayers which take place at about 3pm), we arrive in Tobelo, a harbour town surrounded by coconut groves. Now only the final leg remain: the voyage to Daroeba in Morotai across the strait and its fierce waves. Landing at Daroeba, we are disappointed to find that the military base has completely vanished. There is no fortress or artillery, nothing whatsoever in fact! The Dehegila Bay dock that was used for supply ships has also disappeared with not a single trace remaining. “Morotai, the base of the Allied forces, is now just a story,” explains Muhlis Eso, a Daroeba resident who came up with the idea of building a Pacific War museum.

The Morotai base was no ordinary military facility. In order to prepare it as a base that could be used to attack the Philippines, general MacArthur had designed it to be able to accom-modate an impressive 60,000 soldiers and had equipped it with a 1,900 bed hospital. This was one huge base, even by today’s standards.

So where has it all gone? I have to confess that I do not know. In fact, elementary-school children living on the island have no clue that the lands that they live in used to be a military base. All that remains is a single amphibious vehicle that sits forlornly on Gotalalamo Beach and an airport which is now used as a military installation by the Indonesian armed forces. According to Samsul Bahri Rajab, a resident of Daroeba, the various items left behind by the Allies have all disappeared as a result of looting. “In the 1950s, some business people came here from Jakarta and Makassar. They took away the spare car parts and steel cutters that had been left here,” explains this plump 35-year-old man. “They even took the stuff that had been left underwater.”

Disappointed by the fact that the island’s war relics had all vanished, I head on to Sumsum. During the war, this now-serene island and its idyllic white sands were turned into a busy command centre. It was here that General MacArthur resided. However, just as on Morotai, I found nothing in Sumsum except for a statue of MacArthur standing erect and alone on the quiet beach. 

From Sumsum, I visit the twin islands of Dodola Besar and Dodola Kecil, where MacArthur liked to unwind. According to Muhlis, the commander of the United States Armed Forces in the Far East during World War II often invited people here for parties that featured plenty of drinking and dancing. The food and drink were transported from Daroeba in trucks and to get them across to Dodola, MacArthur ordered the ships to line up side by side to serve as a bridge.

The Dodolas are not only fringed by soft, white sand but are also covered in shady woodland. “My advice for travellers who want to stay overnight here is to bring your own tents because the resort is not well maintained,” says Aziz, who once brought some German tourists here for a three-night stay. Apparently, sleeping on the ground under the night sky is the best option on this island. In addition to walking around the islands’ forested areas, visitors can also swim, dive, or – if they’re feeling especially courageous –watch sharks up close. When the tide is out, the two Dodolas islands are connected by an 800-metre expanse of white sand.

Though difficult to find on land, historical heritage is said to be scattered about on the seabed. At several spots often visited by divers, shipwrecks and the wreckage of jeeps or even fighter aircraft are waiting to be found.  Let’s just hope that these historic remains will not also be plundered.