From the May 13 riots to Sarawak’s jungles, the journey of Major Salehuddin Abd Muttalib (Rtd) reveals the lasting toll of defending a nation.

Tunku Abdul Rahman’s proclamation of “Merdeka!” marked the end of colonial rule, but not the nation’s struggle for peace.
In the years that followed, racial unrest and communist insurgencies placed Salehuddin on the front lines. He joined the Royal Military College in 1967 and was commissioned on April 12, 1969, into the Reconnaissance Regiment in Port Dickson.
A month later, the May 13 riots broke out.
Deployed to Kuala Lumpur, Salehuddin, then 20, was confronted by the harrowing sight of dead bodies on the streets. It was a heartbreaking contrast to his life in Buntong, Perak, where his was the only Malay family in a predominantly Indian neighbourhood.
Race had never hindered friendship: he played cricket, football and hockey with his neighbours and understood some Tamil. His regiment, too, had Malay, Chinese, Indian and Eurasian personnel serving together.
But after May 13, Salehuddin was troubled by how race had suddenly turned neighbours into enemies.
“We’re supposed to live in this world with peace and harmony. We don’t need all that,” Salehuddin, now 77, told FMT Lifestyle.

There was little time to process it: he was soon deployed to Malaysia’s northern border to fight the communist insurgency. In 1971, he joined the Military Intelligence Special Branch, a move that later took him to East Malaysia as a military intelligence officer.
In 1972, 15 soldiers were killed in an ambush in Lundu, Sarawak. During a later raid on an insurgent camp, Salehuddin found a photograph of the insurgents posing with weapons taken from the fallen soldiers.
To the insurgents, the weapons may have been trophies. To Salehuddin, they represented 15 lives cut short – sons who would never return and fathers whose children would grow up without them.
Yet Salehuddin also came to see a less brutal side of the insurgents. For about two years, he shared a house with former insurgents who assisted in his covert operations.
Under the same roof, old labels slowly faded, and Salehuddin began to see them as fellow human beings.
Their cause was not his, but he came to understand that they, too, were driven by conviction. In war, right and wrong did not always fall neatly into categories – and those on opposing sides often carried similar hopes and fears.

Then came Operation Teliti II, one of his most consequential assignments.
“I want you to capture alive a top communist leader, Fam Tze Heung, and his wife, Hooi Yin,” he recalled his superior saying.
Fam was the commander of Combat Unit 330 of Parti Rakyat Kalimantan Utara (Paraku), while his pregnant wife served as the unit’s treasurer.
Salehuddin entered the Sarawak jungle with former insurgents, some of whom had surrendered only days earlier and could potentially have turned on him. Over the next 10 days, they made their way to the location where Fam and his wife were expected to appear.
But in the darkness, his carefully laid plan went wrong and gunfire erupted. Salehuddin’s shots missed his targets; theirs missed him. With his life at risk, he resorted to a parang, killing both Fam and his wife.
The operation dealt a significant blow to Paraku’s operations and earned Salehuddin the Panglima Gagah Berani in 1973.
But he found it difficult to escape the memories of Fam and his wife. The sight of expectant mothers, in particular, would turn his thoughts to their unborn child, who belonged to neither side of the conflict.
Salehuddin later suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder and left the army in 1983.

Operation Teliti II was not the only episode from Salehuddin’s service to resurface. More than a decade after he left the army, a stranger approached him and asked, “Are you Salehuddin?”
When Salehuddin said yes, the man replied, “You killed my uncle.”
His uncle had been a communist insurgent, and Salehuddin immediately recognised the name.
“So I told him, ‘It was my job.’”
Today, Salehuddin does not regret serving his country, although he hopes the sacrifices of those who served in Sarawak will not be forgotten.
Asked what peace means to him, he returned to the multiracial world of his childhood.
“Peace to me is where Malays, Chinese and Indians can sit down together, like we did in those days,” he said, noting that Malaysia still has “a lot of room for improvement” in recapturing the harmony he knew growing up.
His message to younger Malaysians is simple: “Peace has to be earned. It must first be learnt in school – no hatred among races.” - FMT

No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.