X. THE RECEPTION ON JAVA

Wednesday, 7 November.

At half past eight in the morning, local time, we departed from Bali after a warm farewell to our friends. Our intention was to land at the Darmo aerodrome near Surabaya at exactly ten o’clock. Various reports had given us the impression that there would be immense interest on Java regarding the arrival of the Uiver. We had also received many telegrams requesting that we fly over particular towns. Setting a course along Bali’s southern coast, we headed for Banyuwangi, where we circled several times. We then followed the railway line via Krikilan to Jember. On the aloon-aloon, the great square in the centre of the town, a vast crowd had gathered; they had laid out the word ‘HULDE’ in colossal letters—an original and very charming tribute. We made several low passes over the enthusiastic sea of people, who waved to us fervently, before continuing our journey.

Flying between the Tangger and Iyang mountains, we reached the Madura Strait and passed Pasuruan at a quarter to ten. Ten minutes later, the Darmo aerodrome came into view. Although we had anticipated a great deal of interest, we were nonetheless struck and simultaneously astonished by the enormous number of people lined up around the airfield. We performed a final circuit over Surabaya before coming in to land.

As the Uiver taxied towards the hangar, the police cordon was evidently no longer able to hold back the enthusiastic public. It became a dangerous situation; if the mass of people were to press against our machine, our spinning propellers might easily cause an accident, should caution be cast to the wind in the great excitement. Fortunately, the engines could be stopped just in time, and the police and the marines present on the field managed to keep a small space clear by the aircraft exit so that we could disembark. Once the machine was secured and the reception committee attempted to lead us to the microphone, the crowd began to surge forward once more. Thousands wanted to shake our hands at the same time; we lost sight of one another and were swallowed up by the sea of people. A violent jostling ensued.

A few marines, recognising the difficulty of the situation, hoisted us onto their shoulders and attempted to force a path through the dense hedge of people. This was no mean feat, especially in the climate of Surabaya. After much struggle, we approached the hangar, where the organisers intended to usher us to safety. At the back of the hangar, an area had been roped off containing three light aircraft belonging to the Surabaya flying club. Behind these ropes, we felt ourselves safe for a moment; however, it was not long before the pressure of the crowd became so great that those in the front were forced to step over the ropes. There was nothing for it but to climb on top of one of the light aircraft and await the further course of events from there.

When the shouting had subsided somewhat, I attempted to make myself heard, asking the crowd to stand back a little and leave a passage clear so that we might pass. It worked! We finally managed to get out of the hangar and reach the reception committee. The public had calmed down slightly by now, allowing the official reception to begin. The Mayors of Surabaya and Malang, the Commander of the Naval Air Station, and other authorities delivered speeches, after which we said a few words into the microphone ourselves.

I expressed my thanks for the spontaneous and enthusiastic reception and remarked that we had just experienced the most harrowing fifteen minutes of our flight to Australia. Moll concurred; Van Brugge, expressing his joy in his speech, said: ‘If I had a tail, I should wag it,’ an expression that has since become a part of the local lexicon. The final speaker was Prins, who had previously served in the Naval Air Service and had already spotted several old acquaintances; he particularly thanked the marines for the manner in which they had rescued us. The marine who bore him upon his shoulders for half an hour was certainly not a man to be envied.

The Uiver was then brought into the hangar, and once the luggage was unloaded, we headed for the city. As the crowd slowly dispersed towards their homes, a heavy tropical rainstorm broke out, leaving many with a soaked suit. In the lobby of the Oranje Hotel, we met our passengers—Lady Moulden, Gilissen, Domenie, and Captain Barnard—whom we had completely lost in the commotion. Champagne was not lacking here either. A cheerful mood developed, and several more speeches were made. We then retired to our rooms, where I first gave an interview to the editor of Aneta regarding our flight to Australia. The afternoon was spent in discussions with the representative of the KNILM regarding the programme for the return journey. We learned that enthusiasm was also extremely high in other parts of Java, and mindful of the lesson learned in Surabaya, I sent a telegram to Batavia urging special measures for maintaining order at Semarang, Kalidjati, and Batavia.

We were deeply touched by the immense solidarity of our compatriots and the spontaneous heartiness with which we were everywhere received and honoured. But the commander of an aircraft must think first and foremost of safety; moreover, we still had to fly back to Holland and thus had to ensure we did not overexert ourselves.

To tell the truth, we felt more fatigued by all the bustle and business since our arrival in Melbourne than we did when we crossed the finishing line after the Albury incident. When we heard that there would be more than a hundred speakers at the tribute ceremonies in Batavia, we felt a sense of trepidation. One can, after all, have too much of a good thing. Furthermore, the thought continually pressed upon us: what had we done to deserve all this? Naturally, we were aware that we had made a fine flight and had not cut a poor figure in the international air race. But do we and our colleagues not fly to the Indies and back every week with great regularity, and would not any other Indies crew, had they been appointed, have accomplished this flight in the same manner?

We can imagine that people are pleased with the result achieved. We too are delighted to have arrived second with our commercial airliner, though the setback at Albury, which cost us ten hours, tempers our joy somewhat. Such enthusiasm and interest as we experienced this morning was something we could never have suspected. It is almost too overwhelming, and now that we are sitting together, we look at one another somewhat abashed.

The tour of the city, which we were to make at five o’clock, was cancelled due to the rainy weather, giving us the opportunity for an hour’s sleep. However, we were granted little rest; visitors were constantly arriving to present flowers or request autographs. In the evening, a dinner was held for us at the Simpangse Sociëteit, attended by many authorities. Afterwards, we still had to visit a couple of nightclubs, where we were again honoured and made ‘honorary members’. Finally, we were permitted to go to bed after this exhausting but unforgettable day.

The following morning, we were ready to depart again at eight o’clock. Our destination for today was Batavia, with intermediate landings at Semarang and Kalidjati. Despite it being the ‘wet’ season, the weather looked quite fair. There were a few local monsoon showers, but generally, the visibility was good. As we had promised to fly low over various places, we remained beneath the cloud cover.

In Surabaya, we had taken on two more passengers for Batavia, so the company on board the Uiver now consisted of ten people.

After half an hour’s flying, we circled over Cepu; another half hour later, Semarang came into view. Several K.P.M. steamers lay in the Semarang roads, and as we flew an honorary circuit above them, we saw great plumes of steam escaping from their whistles by way of a greeting. Then Prins lowered the wheels, and the Uiver was carefully set down on the rather small field.

Here too, thousands of people stood along the edges of the ground, and when I turned the aircraft to taxi back after landing, I saw that the public here also began to dash across the field. Fearing a repetition of the jostling in Surabaya, I stopped immediately and returned to the far end of the ground. The more enthusiastic members of the crowd were thrown into confusion by this, which gave the police another opportunity to drive the people back behind the boundary. Only when order was fully restored did the Uiver roll cautiously towards the platform and the engines were switched off.

Amidst loud cheering, to which we were becoming somewhat accustomed, we were draped with wreaths, addressed in speeches, and so on; we also gave a speech ourselves, though it was becoming increasingly difficult for us to introduce any variety into them. The entire reception was well organised and proceeded in an orderly fashion.

After a stop of forty minutes, we took off again. We now flew along the north coast of Java, passing Pekalongan and Tegal. Near Cirebon, we spent a moment searching for a sugar factory that we had been requested to fly over in many lyrical letters. It later emerged that we had, alas, flown over the wrong sugar factory entirely. In Cirebon, a large crowd stood waving flags at us. We then flew past the Ceremai mountains, where we encountered a few heavy rain showers, and then over the jungles near Subang, where many tigers are still shot every year. Then Kalidjati came into view.

Kalidjati is a military aerodrome that was formerly used extensively by the Aviation Department for instructional flights. It was here that Jantje Moll received his first flying lessons, and he still holds very pleasant memories of the place. The landing ground is large and in excellent condition. As at our previous stops, there was great interest here as well. Military pilots from the Aviation Department gave a demonstration of squadron flying.

In one of the hangars, now completely vacated by the Aviation Department, festive decorations had been put up, chairs set out for us, and refreshments offered. On behalf of the Pamanoekan and Tjiasem Lands, we were first addressed in English by Mr Adams and then by the Assistant Resident of Purwakarta. The final speaker was Mr de Vries, who delivered a very witty speech. We were repeatedly moved to hearty laughter. Among other things, he said:

‘I can tell you that it gave me quite a shock when, during the telephone conversation in Melbourne with His Excellency Minister Colijn, you replied that you did not consider it such an extraordinary achievement yourself. If I could have interrupted, I would have shouted to you: “Then you know nothing of it, Father; you seem to understand little of flying!”’

This was the simplest and perhaps for that reason one of the pleasantest receptions we have had so far. We were thus glad to take the opportunity to say a few words and give thanks for the great heartiness with which we had been received.

Owing to all the honorary circuits we had made over various towns, it had meanwhile become quite late, so we could not linger long. After a good half hour, the Uiver was back in the air, and twenty minutes later we were flying over Tjililitan, the airport of Batavia. As on the outward journey, the area around the field was white with people; but police on foot and on horseback ensured an orderly proceeding. Reassured, the Uiver extended its legs and touched down on the aerodrome.

The machine was immediately placed in the hangar; there were to be no speeches on the field, as the tribute was not to take place until this evening in the city. However, we made a tour of the grounds in cars, passing the public who cheered us enthusiastically. We then went straight to the Hotel Des Indes.

At lunch, we met many acquaintances, and things were rather boisterous. In the afternoon, many service matters had to be settled, and we finalised the programme for the return journey. Tomorrow we depart for Bandung, where we shall remain for a few days to give our engines a thorough service. On 14 November, the return journey will be undertaken; we shall fly the normal route back as far as Baghdad; after that, via Aleppo, we shall go to Ankara, the capital of Turkey, at the invitation of the Turkish authorities. We shall then fly via Athens along the usual route to Amsterdam, where we are expected at two o’clock in the afternoon on 21 November.

Discussing various subjects in detail required a great deal of time. And when, at five o’clock, a brass band began to play a cheerful march outside my hotel room, it was the signal for me to board for a tour of Batavia. However, I was not yet finished and duty comes first, so I had to excuse myself to the committee. I therefore handed over command for this tour to Moll, and the three of them were heartedly cheered by the enthusiastic Batavian public.

At eight o’clock, I had to give a fifteen-minute speech in the NIROM radio building, which was relayed to Holland by the PHOHI transmitter to be broadcast by the AVRO to Dutch living rooms. There was little time available to prepare this, but I managed as best I could. Afterwards, the festive tribute took place in the military society ‘Concordia’. Mr Nieuwenhuis, chief representative of the KNILM, the members of the tribute committee, and the crew of the Uiver sat on the stage, where microphones had been set up, while in the hall were thousands of enthusiastic spectators. The number of speakers scheduled for this evening had meanwhile been reduced to about twenty.

The enthusiasm of the public was tremendous, and when the first speaker, Mr M. H. C. Vreede, chairman of the Royal Netherlands Indies Association for Aviation, stepped to the microphone, it was still far from quiet. The second speaker also faced a difficult task, for despite the loudspeaker system, not a word of his speech could be understood. At the request of the committee, I asked for a moment of silence myself and appealed for everyone’s cooperation so that the programme could proceed smoothly and in an orderly fashion. This helped only briefly, and when at last speaker number-who-knows-what tried to climb onto the podium and stepped somewhat anxiously to the microphone, the crowd began to sing the well-known ditty, just as he commenced his speech, by way of encouragement: ‘Van je hela, hola, houdt er de moed maar in!’

However, when the Regent of Batavia took the floor, there was a sudden silence. He spoke a few simple but heartfelt words and wished to have the feelings of the native population interpreted in song and music. A choir of native pupils sang, accompanied by the sonorous tones of a gamelan, a specially composed song that made a deep impression on those present.

The remainder of the evening passed more quietly, and the final speaker was Mr Nieuwenhuis, who, among other things, read a letter from the British Consul-General, Mr Fitzmaurice, in which KLM and the crew of the Uiver were congratulated on the flight to Australia. Mr Nieuwenhuis presented flowers to Lady Fitzmaurice, who was present in the hall, and honoured Lady Moulden as the first female passenger from Australia to London. After this, we gave our own thanks for the unforgettable tribute, and the evening concluded with the Wilhelmus.

On Friday morning, 9 November, we were at the Tjililitan aerodrome by nine o’clock, and the Uiver’s engines were warmed up once more. We were to fly to Bandung via Buitenzorg, escorted by a squadron from the Aviation Department. The squadron took off in neat formation under the command of Lieutenant te Roller, after which the Uiver also took to the skies. Over Batavia, the fighter planes came to fly on either side of our machine; like gnats around a bluebottle. In this manner, we set course for Buitenzorg, where an honorary circuit was flown over the palace of His Excellency the Governor-General. Then around Mount Gede, past the Sangga Buana, and over the Preanger plateau. Over Bandung, the squadron dispersed, and one by one the fighters landed, while the Uiver circled the city and the airfield a few more times. We then came in to land as well, and amidst thousands of spectators, the Uiver touched down at the Bandung airport, Andir.

The enthusiasm and interest here were again enormous; we were overwhelmed with flowers and wreaths. The Mayor of Bandung, the Commander of the Aviation Department, and other authorities delivered speeches.

When the official tribute had concluded, the Uiver was rolled into the hangar next to the IJsvogel, and the passengers and crew went in procession, led by music, to the city.

In the Preanger Hotel, another tribute took place; then a lunch, attended by many authorities, the menu of which I include here:

Délices à la KLM

Toast et beurre frais

Olio de Queue de Kangourou d’Albury

au Madère

Uni de Merluche ‘Goliath Prins’

Pommes nouvelles

Grillade de Béhague

à la Reine Wilhelmine

Lames de Céleris de Betuwe

Pommes Aero Club

Angels Kiss for our ‘Parmentier’

Pâté de Foie Gras

Spécialité de Mon. ‘Moll’

Coupe de Marconiste ‘Van Brugge’

Jardinière de Fruits

Café

It is needless to say that everything, even the kangaroo tail soup from Albury, tasted excellent.

The organisation of the reception in Bandung was superb, and the entire tribute programme was perfectly arranged. We were given the afternoon off, and in the evening, a gala dinner was held in our honour at the ‘Concordia’ society.

On Saturday, 10 November, the crew, together with Mr and Mrs Nieuwenhuis, went to Buitenzorg for a reception with His Excellency the Governor-General, Jhr. Mr B. C. de Jonge. It was a beautiful drive from Bandung to Buitenzorg. The Governor-General received us very graciously and delivered a moving and cordial speech.

This was followed by a lunch at the Buitenzorg society, after which the return journey was undertaken. We now had a few days available to take some rest and arrange various matters. The aircraft and engines were thoroughly overhauled and inspected by the KNILM technical service; several instruments were replaced, and a test flight over Andir showed everything to be in order once more.

The volume of letters and telegrams delivered to me at the hotel was again such that I could no longer read them all myself and had to appoint a secretary to help arrange the most important matters before our departure for Holland.

Nevertheless, during our stay in Bandung, we had the opportunity to find some rest; and as we look back on our triumphal progress across the Lesser Sunda Islands and Java, and the manner in which we were everywhere received and honoured, it strikes us even more deeply how immensely the whole of the Indies has shared in our experience, and how great the interest of the population of the Indies is in aviation. The great heartiness and sympathy we were fortunate enough to encounter everywhere fills us with deep gratitude, for we see in it the proof that people are not merely honouring the four of us, but the whole of KLM, and that Dutch aviation can look forward to the future with confidence.