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Lest we forget

Soldiers never die: A tribute to William Ouderland, Bir Pratik

Shamsad Mortuza
WE know things with varying degrees of certainty: sometimes we know much -- if not a little too much -- and sometimes nothing at all. And to authenticate knowledge, especially when it is related to emotional or personal events, the degree of certainty seems to flicker only to the bafflement of the historians. That has been the case with the history of our liberation war.
It took more than two decades for us to recognise the contribution of Taraman Bibi or William Ouderland. The gallantry awards given to these two were memorable exceptions for a country that somehow fails to credit those who deserve. Last year, at the height of the Padua episode, the then opposition party promised to honour the slain BDR men with the highest gallantry awards of Bir Pratik. Luckily, common sense prevailed, and the dignity of the award remained intact. The same, however, cannot be said about the BDR chief who led the attack from and was removed from his post prior to a bilateral meeting with India.
In fact, we are living in a world where common sense is becoming very uncommon. And so is uncommon man. Mr. William Ouderland was an uncommon man. He died last year on May 18 at the age of 84. He was awarded with the country's second highest gallantry award --Bir Pratik -- in 1993. Because of his ailing health, he could not come to Bangladesh and receive the award in
person. He was presented with the award by Major General Mannaf, the then High Commissioner for Bangladesh in Australia on July 26, 1993. After receiving the award, Mr. Ouderland told The Canberra Times, "There is only one award in Bangladesh higher than the Bir Pratik and I am pleased not to be receiving it, given that it is only awarded posthumously." On his first death anniversary this quip of his reminds us of a man who loved life. He was a man who wanted to make his surroundings beautiful. This perhaps is a conjecture on my part. However, while watching the video of the funeral service, my apprehension has been proved to be true. Ouderland's daughter and his friends highlighted this rare quality in the brief yet delightfully decent funeral service. It was nice to see the coffin wrapped in the red and green flag of Bangladesh and the expatriate Bangladeshis singing the national anthem. The high commissioner of Bangladesh briefed the meeting of Mr. Ouderland's valiant, albeit risky, role in the liberation war of Bangladesh.
William Ouderland was born in December 1917 in Amsterdam, the Netherlands. He joined the Dutch national service in 1936 and was a member of the signal corps when
Germany attacked the Netherlands. He was taken a prisoner but managed to escape from the POW camp and got involved in a guerilla war. After the war, he left army and joined private service. In 1964, he moved to Australia. He was posted to Bangladesh during the eventful days of the late 60's and the 70's. He retired to Perth in 1978 after leaving Bangladesh. He always considered himself as an 'honorary citizen' of Bangladesh and thought of it as his second home.
Technology has made the past present and the present a food for the future. Looking at the flower-covered coffin in the video of the memorial service, I wondered why Ouderland risked his life to help the freedom loving people of Bangladesh. His official assignments as the managing director of the Bata Shoe factory hardly encouraged getting involved in local politics. Ouderland did; he was an exceptional man. As a Second World War veteran, he knew the difference between the suppressor and the suppressed. In 1971 when the Pakistani junta wrought havoc on the Bangladeshi people, he readily decided to inform the international community about the massacre. He took photographs of the carnage and gave it to the international press. In addition, he imparted his knowledge on guerilla warfare and trained the freedom fighters at Sector 1 and 2 of Tongi. His clandestine operation went unsuspected because of the high post he held. He even took advantage of his access to the Pakistani administration and the military officials to elicit information and then pass it onto the freedom fighters. It was probably a deja vu for Mr. Ouderland who used the same tactics in his dealing with the Germans while fighting for the Dutch.
The citation of the Bir Pratik award recognised the moral and physical support of Mr. Ouderland that he extended "without regard to his personal safety and above and beyond the call of his duty." This, from what we have learnt, is a true assessment of Mr. Ouderland Bir Pratik. We came to know of Mr. Ouderland because of some relentless efforts of some historians and researchers. One hopes that they will be able to authenticate personal story and find niche in history for those who deserve.
Mr. Ouderland was an exceptional man. We remember him on his first anniversary. We remember him as a friend of our country. We remember him as a champion of humanity. And while remembering him, we become handcuffed to history. Because, the war of liberation was an extraordinary event which made many ordinary people to rise to the occasion and become extraordinary. Recognising Mr. Ouderland's contribution has been a positive step towards setting things right. Our only hope would be that serious researchers and students of history would continue their efforts in finding people like Taramon and Ouderland. Only they can authenticate history, not those who think of history as story to lure votes. Is that a tall request on a day like this when an old soldier died but not before leaving a legacy?