would the Indonesians not just send their own equipment in, assuming you are correct, instead of purchasing additional supplies?” inquired the Admiral. “Surely they could justify such a move?”
The Army General decided it was time for him to assume the role of senior spokesman.
“Obviously this is part or could be part of the overall deception.” The General continued. “Should their strategy be to infiltrate across the territorial lines terrorizing the inhabitants of the disputed border villages then they would be clever to use weaponry not associated with the ABRI, or Indonesian Armed Forces, as this would suggest an intrusion by yet a third party which, in itself, the Indonesians would claim as being provocative and maybe then march in under such a pretext to protect their borders!”
The veteran was enjoying himself. In fact, he almost relished the thought of the possibility of an Australian military intervention.
“The Indonesians have maintained for some time that they believed that both West Irian, or Irian Barat as they call it, and Papua New Guinea will eventually become targets for communist subversive elements,” he lectured.
“It is possible that the Indonesians will use the weapons themselves to incite some of the border tribes in an attempt to frustrate the plebiscite, push these ignorant indigenes across the New Guinea border and then rush after them as part of a terrorist sweep.”
The General paused for the greatest effect. “Then, with great difficulty, we would be involved in two police actions simultaneously,” he warned referring to the Vietnam commitment the Australian politicians had so foolishly entered into.
“Are you telling me that a second-rate, uneducated, third-world bunch of coconut eaters have the ability to sit down, plan an excursion into a neighbouring country with the forethought to embroil Australia deliberately into a regional military mess such as the scenario you have just suggested?” snapped the Prime Minister testily.
“May I suggest, gentleman, that at this time we do not have sufficient evidence to substantiate the conclusions or possible outcome suggested here today,” intervened the A.S.I.O. Director.
“Then what do you propose?” demanded the statesman.
“If I may ...?” the Air Marshall offered.
“Let’s hear it then,” the politician sighed, feeling the murky grip of this one already around his ankles.
“Prime Minister. We don’t have the resources to keep track of the weapon movements. Nor would we have the materials nor the supplies to support a prolonged and systematic campaign of aerial and ground surveillance over the next nine months leading up to the plebiscite. My recommendation is that we inform theAmericans if they don’t already know and request satellite surveillance. In the meantime, we should endeavour to ascertain more concerning the source of supply of the weapons and develop some strategy to either prevent further shipments or at least, slow them down.”
The Air Force officer completed his last sentence by first raising his hand and then slowly pushing it down demonstrating how he would resolve the supply flow.
“Shouldn’t the Ambassador in Jakarta make some attempt to determine the extent of the Indonesian military’s involvement?” suggested the Admiral.
“That will be attended to,” warned the Intelligence director.
The last thing this agency wanted was some career diplomat identifying an opportunity to ingratiate himself with the Minister, yelling insults at Adam Malik, Indonesia’s Foreign Minister.
The Australian Intelligence Agency, ASIO had no charter to operate overseas and was, to some extent, similar to the Federal Bureau of Investigation. These delicate matters of foreign inquiry were best left to those authorized.
The Prime Minister examined the faces of the men around him. He felt a wave of tiredness beginning to creep up from his feet indicating that he was not convinced that they had resolved the major problem, merely postponed the hard decisions. Still, he thought, that was how one often survived. Do nothing, appear to be doing everything and most party observers would applaud the non-decision making process as an integral survival tactic of the politician.
“Keep me informed,” was all their leader demanded which indicated the end to the security discussions.
As the group departed, the Prime Minister indicated with a cursory nod that he wished the Intelligence director to remain.
Alone, the Prime Minister commenced issuing his instructions to one of Australia’s most powerful non-public departmental heads. Unlike many other western nations, the head of Australia’s Intelligence Service was not approved by consensus but more appropriately, by selection, in camera, of the most qualified candidate. He was responsible personally to the Attorney-General. It was not unusual for the Prime Minister to communicate directly with the powerful director.
“What do you really think?” he inquired, the tiredness in his voice apparent.
“The Chief-of-Air-Staff is a good man. Sensible. I would go along with his suggestions for the time being,” the Director advised.
“Is there something else I should know?” the politician asked challenging. “You didn’t appear convinced that we understood the real substance of the reports.”
It was always difficult when asked for opinions relating to information collected by the intelligence gathering apparatus. So often the information was just a red herring; and yet, more often than not, when there was detail such as he had examined but not released to the other departments in relation to these arms shipments his sixth sense warned him, as it had in the past, that there was a subtlety behind the strategy that they had missed.
“It’s tricky. We are missing something but it eludes me,” he explained. “I just can’t put a handle on why the shipments are coming out of Timor through Indonesian waters when it would have been far more expedient to dispatch via the Philippines if there actually is third party involvement and, if not, why not just move it directly from one of the closer ports?”
“The Americans are probably still our best bet for a quick answer. In the meantime I will arrange to activate one of our operatives.”
“Don’t get caught!” instructed the politician not comfortable that they were exceeding the organization’s charter.
The Director smiled weakly. “We won’t,” he responded realizing that he had included the Prime Minister in his undertaking.
That evening the Prime Minister attended a formal state function and noticed the Indonesian delegation across the room. He was tempted to orchestrate an encounter but his political experience warned him to wait for developments to occur.
“Damn the little bastards,” he muttered under his breath before turning his thoughts to the argument taking place behind him regarding the Second Test cricket series.
Merauke — Irian Barat
Indonesian New Guinea
The weapons were moved out of the safe houses during fajar as this was when the villagers were least observant, engrossed in going about their own morning ablutions. This had been the eighth load, as the inventory had to be broken down into manageable shipments. Another four, maybe five days and the entire group could vacate the premises pending the next cargo’s arrival.
“Awas, lu!” the leader warned as the heavy box containing South African semi-automatic rifles began to slip from the lead man’s grip. “ Cepat, cepat ,” he urged, encouraging them to hurry. The team of Timorese struggled and groaned as they carried the crates out to the waiting vehicle. “Cukup dulu ,” enough, the leader hissed, “ kunci pintunya dan jaga baik-baik!” ordered the Javanese, to ensure that the security locked the premises and guarded the armoury well.
“Besok saja kembali,” he advised, undertaking to return the following morning. The dilapidated four