The Kingdom of the Netherlands was at peace in
Europe from 1830 until 1940, and faced little external threat for much of this
time. Until the first decade of the 20th Century a coast-defence
navy was considered adequate for homeland protection but high standards of
efficiency were demanded, as befitted the proud naval traditions exemplified by
Admirals de Ruyter and Tromp in earlier times. During this period however the
defence – and expansion – of the nation’s vast colonies in the East Indies, essentially
what is now Indonesia, posed a more difficult challenge. In the late 19th
Century the major conflicts in the area were typical of the colonial wars of the
time, the bloody and protracted (1873 – 1914) Atjeh (Aceh) Wars in Sumatra being the
most important. Netherlands ships deployed to the area accordingly needed long-range cruising capability, ability to provide artillery
support during amphibious operations, and capacity for transporting troops and supplies
needed in such operations. No great level of sophistication was required of
such vessels (Click here to see separate blog entry on Coast Defence Ships).
During the first decade of the 20th Century
the situation changed significantly. Political tensions were rising in Europe –
to the extent to which the Netherlands Government initiated studies for
acquisition of a small Dreadnought fleet – and Japan was emerging as a major
power in the aftermath of its victory over Russia in 1905. HMS Dreadnought had been launched in 1905, making all other capital
ships afloat obsolete and a confident Japan was moving rapidly to build its own
fleet of similar ships. The only likely enemy the Netherlands would be likely
to encounter in the East Indies was Japan and the cost of meeting the potential
challenge was a daunting one. While proposals for building a Dreadnought fleet
for the Netherlands were endlessly debated, a stop-gap measure was adopted
which would provide one new coast-defence ship, eight destroyers, at least one
submarine and several other vessels for service in the East Indies.
De Zeven Provinciën heading off to the East Indies as a new ship in 1910 Note white hull and ocher-yellow upperworks for tropical service |
De Zeven Provinciën in service |
The coast defence ship which was launched in 1909 was De Zeven Provinciën. Constructed at a
time when modern Dreadnoughts of vastly greater power were sliding off the
slipways in Europe, the United States and Japan, De Zeven Provinciën, though new, already looked like an antiquated
survivor from an earlier epoch. Though the largest vessel (6,530 tons) in the
Netherlands Navy, her armament consisted of two
11.1 inch and four 6 inch guns, plus many smaller weapons. To support
this she had a crew of 448 in a hull 333 feet long.
Given that Japan’s navy represented her most likely adversary
it is interesting to compare De Zeven
Provinciën her with the Japanese 21,000 ton Kawachi, laid down that same year and armed with twelve 12” and ten
6” guns. Since no decision was ever reached to build a modern battleship fleet
for the Netherlands Navy, then in the event of a Japanese attempt to seize the
East Indies De Zeven Provinciën, was
going to have to face alone not just the
Kawachi but the even more powerful vessels that followed her.
Manned by a mixed European and Indonesian crew, De Zeven Provinciën was to serve most of
her career in the Netherlands East
Indies, from 1911–1918 and from 1921 onwards.
It was in these waters that the mutiny for which she became notorious occurred in
1934.
The 1930s were difficult for the Netherlands. Caught up in
the global Great Depression, the country suffered high unemployment and social unrest
at home while in the East Indies, which the Dutch contemporary political
establishment was absolutely determined to retain, an independence movement was
already active. Unrest and strikes in the 1932-1934 period were supressed with
force by the colonial authorities.
The underlying causes of the mutiny that broke out on De Zeven Provinciën in 1933 are still
debated, with some arguing that an active Communist cell might have been the
instigator. Whether or not this was the case it is obvious that there was
already widespread discontent about pay cuts and bad working conditions. Morale
was already poor at the time and the example of the Invergordon Mutiny in the
Royal Navy, just over a year previously, may have provided inspiration. In the
latter case British personnel had won amelioration of pay cuts and the mutiny
had ended peacefully.
De Zeven
Provinciën with a (friendly) aircraft in the Straits of Malacca
Attribution:
Tropenmuseum of the Royal Tropical Institute (KIT) Amsterdam
|
The immediate trigger of the mutiny was the arrival of a
signal of January 26th 1933, indicating that pay was to be cut by
7%. The news was not welcome and a similar announcement at the naval base in Soerabaja
provoked protests by service personnel there, resulting in several being
arrested and locked up. On becoming aware of this Indonesian crew-members on De Zeven Provinciën discussed taking the
ship to Soerabaja to free their arrested comrades.
On February 5th De Zeven Provinciën was moored off the northwest tip of Sumatra. On
board were 16 European officers, 34 European NCOs and ratings and some 140
Indonesian crew-members. In the early morning hours Indonesian ratings seized
small arms and took control of the ship. Though there appears to have been no
violence against officers all signals received ordering the mutineers to
surrender were ignored. European ratings seemed to have tried to keep aloof but
some, either willingly or unwillingly, cooperated with the mutineers. The
vessel now moved down the coast of Sumatra, apparently headed for Soerabaja at
the eastern end of Java. The Netherlands colonial government decided however
that the vessel must be recaptured before then, and ideally before it passed
the Sunda Strait separating Sumatra and Java. A squadron consisting of the
modern cruiser Java, two destroyers Evertsen and Piet Hein, the submarines KVII
and KIX and several aircraft was
despatched for the purpose.
On the morning of February 10th the squadron
sighted De Zeven Provinciën. An
ultimatum was signalled – force would be used if a white flag was not hoisted
in the next ten minutes. The reply from the mutineers was “We desire not to be delayed and we’re heading for Soerabaja.” It
can only be assumed that the mutineers were convinced that they would be fired
on. In this they were badly mistaken as the government had decided that there
would be no capitulation to their demands, the more so in view of the signal of
weakness this would send to Indonesian nationalists.
Aircraft now attacked, several bombs being dropped and one
landing on the forecastle. The results were spectacular – 19 dead (including 3
Europeans), 11 seriously injured (of which four died later) and seven lightly
wounded. Among the dead was Parada, the leader of the mutiny. A fire was
ignited which was extinguished quickly and the mutineers, shocked into
surrender, were taken across to the other ships. The vulnerability of warships
to aerial bombing was very clearly demonstrated. Many of the leading mutineers were
subsequently sentenced to jail-sentences as long as 18 years.
The incident triggered recriminations and controversy in
both the Netherlands and in the East Indies, with predictable pro and anti-judgments of government action from right and left-wing political groups. It was credited
with shifting popular support towards right-wing parties during an election
later in the year. More than 20 years later, in 1957, a TV programme about the
mutiny, as well as about other aspects of rule in the East Indies, provoked
such a furor that the journalist responsible was banned from further broadcast
work for two years.
De
Zeven Provinciën’s subsequent career was tragic. Renamed HNLMS Soerabaja in 1936, she was sunk in February 1942
by Japanese bombers. Used as a floating battery by the Japanese after being
raised, she was sunk again by Allied aircraft in 1943.
Am I right in thinking Admiral Doorman served on De Zeven Provinciën - was he on-board at the time of the mutiny?
ReplyDeleteNo - though I understand that he did so somewhat earlier.
ReplyDeleteI find Doorman's last signal at the battle of the Java Sea inspirational: "Ik val aan - volg mij!" (I'm attacking - follow me).
Their ships might have been outdated and undergunned but Doorman and his men went down fighting in the best Dutch tradition established by the fighting admirals of the 17th Century.
Fascinating! My father was in the Navy during WWII and after demob served with the Chinese Maritime Customs.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ReplyDeleteHello Siobhan - looks like your father had the makings of a great adventure!
ReplyDeleteHi Antoine,
ReplyDeleteThere's a two-week-long festival of history starting in Dublin next week, which might be of interest to readers of your blog, or indeed yourself if you happen to be in town.
Details and a full downloadable programme are available here: http://dublinfestivalofhistory.ie/
I've already booked my ticket for the discussion on historical fiction and the talk by Jung Chang on the former imperial concubine who ruled China following the Taiping rebellion and the overthrow of the Manchus. Unmissable!
Melissa.
Thanks Melissa - this looks fascinating, though I'm afraid I'll have to miss out on it. The Dowager Empress - as she became - was a terrifying figure!
ReplyDeleteBest Wishes: Antoine