Christine Helliwell’s Semut is an amazing account of operations in Japanese-occupied Borneo, and the audiobook, with its foreword and epilogue read by the author and the main narration by Dorje Swallow, made for an excellent listening experience.
I particularly enjoyed learning about the meticulous preparations made before the operatives were parachuted into Borneo and their hopes of recruiting the Dayaks to their cause. It involved so many anthropologists and students who had previously studied in the region. Landing in such an unfamiliar landscape must have felt like arriving on an alien planet, and survival relied not only on resisting the Japanese but also on the locals’ generosity and support. Not only had the locals not seen a Westerner before, but many Australians had not seen any Asians before. Helliwell does a fantastic job describing how difficult it must have been for everyone to adjust, as well as describing how cities and landscapes look now compared to then.
One of the most fascinating aspects of the book was the tension and interplay between Australian and British forces, with class backgrounds influencing operations in unexpected ways. The contrast between individuals, some who sought self-promotion and glory versus those who, despite humble beginnings, took great care to learn the local languages and culture, was especially interesting. Helliwell does ensure that these personal conflicts do not detract from the central narrative of operations and activities.
As I read, I deeply regretted missing Christine Helliwell’s talk at the Canberra Writers Festival, as I hadn’t yet discovered the book. What an achievement it must have been for her to interview survivors about their wartime experiences, their encounters with the first Westerners they had ever seen, and to uncover hidden truths absent from official military accounts. Her ability to engage with people, navigate cultural barriers, and draw out testimonies is truly remarkable. In that I include not just the various groups from Borneo, but also aging Australians sharing their experiences for the first time. Many of these experiences must have been very difficult and emotional to mentally relive.
Toward the end, I do wish there had been some brief inclusion of the Japanese perspective. The operatives actively encouraged the practice of headhunting, and one can only imagine the terror experienced by Japanese soldiers witnessing entire teams vanish or in one case, a lone soldier returning headless floating down a river. Did the Japanese government ever attempt to retrieve the heads, which had been smoked, dried, and displayed in longhouses? The book also touches on racial tensions, noting how some locals exploited the promotion of Japanese headhunting to settle personal grievances, going so far as to target Chinese shopkeepers with whom they had prior disputes. Several times in the book Chinese people and other ethnic groups had their heads collected. It would be outside the scope of this book, but I would love to read more about the Chinese-Canadian soldiers who studied local languages and customs so meticulously that they could blend in with the region’s Chinese population in preparation for an attack. I worried for them not just because of a potential attack by the Japanese, but also that they might be mistaken as being Japanese, or that locals might have economic-based issues with them (thinking they were local Chinese business owners) and cut off their heads, or, as seemed to happen so many times, the RAAF might just blow them all up by accident anyway. It's very suspenseful reading.
Semut also excels in its discussion of how war did not immediately bring an end to violence and reprisals. The Japanese forces in Borneo took months to fully surrender, and it was disturbing to read about high-ranking military officials prioritizing photographs of themselves over the urgent rescue of starving POWs and civilians. Ultimately, Semut conveys a powerful message: that individuals from vastly different backgrounds can rise above their biases, fears, and weaknesses to accomplish extraordinary acts of courage. I really recommend the book, even if you don't typically pick up military non-fiction.