Lahad Datu: Tandou Tragedy

Malaysian commando: I saw them shoot my brothers in the head

















LAHAD DATU - It was 3am and pitch dark on the heavily fortified beach we were on after a long, eventful day.

The previous day, security forces had launched a massive attack on
Kampung Tanduo where terrorists from Sulu had been holed up since Feb
12.

The fear was that they could have broken through the security cordon and entered nearby villages.

Most of the security personnel around us had their eyes glued to
their night vision binoculars sweeping the waters ahead and the vast
area behind us.

Our discussion on what we were planning to do later in the morning
was interrupted by a security personnel who walked up from behind
unnoticed.

We stood up and turned his way, answering his "salam" that greeted us.

The personnel, whom from then on we addressed as "Abang" asked us what we were doing there.

Our conversation revealed what many had wanted to know about what had
happened on March 1, when the country was rocked by news that two
security personnel he referred to as "brothers", were killed by the
terrorists in an ambush.

Before us stood the commando who was tasked with maintaining the
security cordon around Kampung Tanduo under Ops Sulu (now codenamed Ops
Daulat).

Initially, it seemed impossible to get Abang, whose face was
weather-beaten and weary, to open up to us. He was not convinced we were
journalists until we showed him our press credentials.

It was clear to us then that as much as he didn't want to, as he had
no authority to talk to civilians, he wanted to defend his fellow
comrades who had been accused by some quarters as being part of a staged
"drama".

Abang was one of roughly 40 VAT 69 commandos deployed in the first of three front lines to tighten the security cordon.

VAT 69 is the main force. The second line is the police elite strike force, followed by the general operations force.

That morning, in a six-layer "U" formation, the VAT 69 team started
inching closer into the terrorists' hideout in the village that was
located several hundred metres from the shore. Metres ahead of them was
an incline.

As they moved further in, personnel in the first line, which included
fallen heroes Assistant Superintendent Zulkifli Mamat, 29, and Sergeant
Sabarudin Daud, 46, stopped in their tracks.

All personnel behind them, also stopped. They were suddenly face to
face with several terrorists who had been hiding in a chest-deep ditch
which was camouflaged with dried palm leaves.

"They all suddenly stood up and both sides had weapons trained at
each other. Our brothers in front were training their M-16s down at the
terrorists... there were several seconds of silence.

"We had instructions not to shoot on sight as our mission was to seek and capture.

"During this stand-off, which lasted a few seconds, we noticed more of them behind a slope, just behind the ditch.

"It was in that few seconds when their snipers from the slope shot
our two brothers in the head," he said, anger and sadness evident in his
eyes.

Heavy exchange of gunfire ensued, and the commandos killed 12 terrorists.

Abang said when the shooting stopped, his team did not pursue the
terrorists as they were uncertain of the enemies' strength and numbers.

"I saw it all from where I was. I saw a glimpse of his face as he
fell back after being hit... it killed me," he said, referring to one of
his men who was shot. Abang then turned and walked away.

As we, too, turned to walk back to our base, we were approached by
another personnel who had earlier passed us by as we were talking to
Abang.

This VAT 69 commando, who wanted to be identified only as Agus, was also part of Abang's team.

Pointing towards Abang, who by then had almost disappeared into the
night, Agus said: "He's very affected by Tuan Zulkifli's death. He saw
him being shot in the head. He could not do anything but continued
shooting at the enemy, even as Tuan Zulkifli's lifeless body brushed
against his leg after hitting the ground".

Agus said the team had, for several mornings, been moving further into the village, setting up camps as they advanced.

On that fateful morning's mission, Agus was positioned in the third row.

"When one of my brothers was shot in the leg during the shoot- out, my comrades in the fourth row pulled him further back.

"He was bleeding so heavily that I had to crouch to stop the bleeding
with my left hand while I held my M-16 with my right hand, support ing
the buttstock with my right knee, for about half an hour.

"All this while the rest of us continued firing towards the ditch and slope, until the enemy retreated," he said.

At this point, another personnel who was standing close by joined us.
His eyes were glistening with tears of anger when he told us how he
felt with regard to the accusations that the Kampung Tanduo ambush was a
political ploy. His demeanour changed.

It was difficult for both of us to hold back our emotions when this
six-foot commando, whose face was thick in grime, cried as he told us
this: "It is something that will haunt you forever, seeing the lifeless
bodies of your comrades mutilated. Imagine holding a family member whose
body had been mutilated, in your arms.

"One of them was my former squad member, who had a full life ahead of
him," said the personnel who was assigned to the water village in
Kampung Seri Jaya, Simunul in Semporna, to retrieve the bodies of six
personnel killed there during an ambush last Sat urday.

In the two separate ambushes, eight members of the security forces were killed

-New Straits Times

Recording the event for future generations

THE TRUTH: People must know about our security personnel in action

BEING right smack in the middle of what will eventually find its way into the history books, journalists in Lahad Datu are pulling out all the stops to let the world in, in real time, on what is happening in this usually quiet tip of the Sabah east coast.

For many of us, this will be one of the longest off-base assignments we've ever and perhaps will ever cover as we have been told that operations will take as long as the security forces needed to.

While journalists hardly have much time to call home, our families have been told to rest assured that the kind of security around us is unmatched even by the president of the United States.

Just about 10 doors away from the room I share with my colleague, Farrah Naz Karim, and two other reporters from the same stable is where the inspector-general of police and armed forces chief steal some time for the little sleep they have been getting. Sabah Police Commissioner Datuk Hamza Taib is even closer to us.

And don't forget the five battalions we have scouring the area, many of whom are just outside this serene place called Felda Residence Resort that I've called home since Feb 24, 12 days after the terrorist incursion was reported.

"So, mummy, you have nothing to worry about," I told my mother in a third brief conversation yesterday. "Oh, by the way, Farrah and I were strolling by the beach, which is just 20 steps from our balcony, and guess who we saw... macho VAT 69 abang."

I was trying to drive home the point that her youngest child was as safe as can be.

This resort, with each of the 38 rooms sardine-packed with an average of six journalists and the lobby for a few days looking more like a dormitory, is now also home to foreign journalists.

When I arrived, there were only a handful of journalists, mostly based in Kota Kinabalu.

As soon as two of our security forces personnel were shot dead during an ambush in the terrorists' fortress in Kampung Tanduo, the journos, including from Japan, China and the United States, started making a beeline for Felda Sahabat.

The Information Department team followed suit with the intention to ease our operations. The sheer size of the media corps prompted the department to issue us each a fluorescent yellow vest for easy identification.

Villagers thought we were traffic police personnel, so we ditch the vests half the time, only to hurriedly put it back on when we have to jump off our rented trucks for that all-important picture or news opportunity.

During occasions like that, that vest is a like a VIP pass for us.

The two press conferences held every day helped us greatly with news on the security forces operations, conducted the previous night and the ones carried out after that.

This is also when confirmed statistics, including on fatalities, casualties, arrests, surrendered terrorists and seized weapons.

I made a mental note that if ever I am here for a holiday, I will only settle for that particular room where the prime minister, home and defence ministers, and the police and armed forces top guns of were huddled together just before

Datuk Seri Najib Razak made the much-awaited announcement that the east coast of Sabah would from now on be safeguarded like never before, with the setting up of the special security area.

The late nights at the lobby and the chance meetings at overpriced cafes around the settlement after a while helped in breaking the hard, expressionless front put up by security personnel at our hotel.

Now it has gone beyond the casual "Hi!" and the Malaysian trademark greeting of "Dah makan? (Have you eaten?)".

After all, a loose understanding has been established between us.

These brave men are in the forefront in defending the nation's sovereignty and we are here to record it for the current and future generations to know and understand.

This is the truth. We know it and they know it. So, the loose understanding exists, and a mutual respect.

Read more: Recording the event for future generations - Latest - New Straits Times [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]

[You must be registered and logged in to see this image.] Members of the media at the media centre set up in Felda Residence Resort in Lahad Datu yesterday.

5 March 2013| last updated at 10:10AM
EXCLUSIVE FROM LAHAD DATU: Dramatic rescue of woman
By Farrah Naz Karim and Jassmine Shadiqe

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Lahad
Datu: It was like a scene straight out of a Western movie where the
townfolk had cleared out after the local sheriff had battled it out with
some rogue gunslingers.

The stretch was eerily deserted. Nothing moved except for dried leaves blown by the wind.

Just
about a kilometre from where we had pulled up, an arresting
picture-postcard view of the Sulu sea greeted us. The pristine white
sandy beach and the lush idyllic greenery around us was in sharp
contrast to the view that was about to assault our eyes as we turned
into Kampung Tanjung Labian, and a about kilometre later, Kampung
Tanjung Batu.

Empty shell casings and spent ammo boxes were
scattered all over. The windows of houses that lined the road we were
on, and cars parked on the lawns, had their windows blown out.

Where
houses once stood were bare foundations and ashen pillars that held up
and supported nothing. Just a few metres ahead was a Kancil and a yellow
Ford Ranger, its front passenger door wide open. Both were riddled with
bullets and the windscreens were shattered.

With us was a local
from the village, Yusof Sarang, 58, of Suluk descent, whom we had known
for a while now, and Abdul Rahman Selami, 63, whom the terrorists had
bumped into and bummed some cigarettes from, before he fled the village.

“Both cars belong to my neighbours and they were not here when we left. The terrorists must have used them,” said Yusof.

Further
up, we saw cattle and livestock tied to trees and left to fend for
themselves. They followed that same constant orbit, just as far as their
leash would allow and it was a matter of time before they ran out of
food. The patch of land they were on was devoid of grass and vegetation,
grazed to extinction in the days following the clash.

We went
into the village with the two eager men who wanted to retrieve some of
their belongings. We had been told by military intelligence sources said
the area had been "flushed" of terrorists twice.
The doors to a
grocery shop just after the main entrance to the village that had been
securely locked when the villagers left was wide open. There was nothing
much left on the shelves, save for the non-edibles.

The terrorists must have plundered it to stock up before going back into hiding until now.

More
than a week ago, as we made our rounds to source for stories, we had
had to make way for a long military convoy which eventually exited the
main road into Kampung Tanjung Labian. Just five minutes later, we heard
sounds of shelling coming from the village.

This village bore
witness to the Malaysian security forces' might. Terrorists being
pounded by security forces in Kampung Tanduo had breached the cordon
there and penetrated into Kampung Tanjung Labian and the adjacent
Kampung Tanjung Batu on March 2.

The villagers had been
evacuated, right before the security forces launched an all-out
offensive on the terrorists' fortress in Kampung Tanduo. They had turned
that idyllic village into their stronghold when they first arrived on
Feb 12.

Rahman
had gone back to his house at 9am on March 4 to check on his house. He
feared that it could have been looted and plundered by the terrorists.
At this point, there were still about 20 villagers in the village,
defying evacuation orders.

When he opened the door to his house,
he froze. Inside the living room were seven fully armed terrorists,
charging their handphones. Before any of them could react,
Rahman, in a moment of brilliance, offered them cigarettes and the use
of his motorcycle. They told him that they had sealed off the only way
in and out of the village.

He gave the terrorists the slip at
noon and rounded up the remaining 20 villagers. The story of his close
encounter with the terrorists sent chills down their spine. They
formulated an ad-hoc escape plan almost immediately and were right in
the middle of it when they heard gunshots. Not waiting to ask questions,
they grabbed whatever they could, some of them with only the clothes on
their backs, and bolted to the relative safety of the sea, about 100
metres away.

The villagers waded the tide for three kilometres
until they reached the main road outside of the village before flagging
down a van to take them to the evacuation centre in Felda Fajar Harapan.

As
Rahman told us this, we didn't realise that we were all on edge,
jittery and skittish, until Yusof broke the silence in the car with a
loud gasp, almost sending us into cardiac arrest.

Having seen
many houses being turned into smoking hulks of bombed-out shells, he was
just thankful that his was still intact. The systematic destruction of
the homes was part of the terrorists' plan. They knew that security
forces were using unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) for battlefield
reconnaisance and they destroyed the homes so that the smoke would
obscure the view of the sensors carried by the UAVs.

He told us
that he wanted to go in and get his birth certificate. Rahman wanted his
motorcycle back, praying hard the terrorists hadn't rode of with it. We
put our foot down. There was no way we would go in.

A man
suddenly jumped out from the hedges. The sight of a stranger popping out
from cover, couple with our frayed nerves, made us jump out of our
skins. Yusof immediately identified the man as Kassim Rol, 52 , his
neighbour. Kassim was rambling about something and his face wore a
worried look.

Inside the house he came from, was his handicapped
sister Rasidah Rol, 47, whom he and the rest were forced to leave
behind, when they ran for their lives on March 4.

Paralysed from
the waist down since her early 20s, Rasidah had spent more than a week
in one corner of the house all by herself she had been sharing with her
brother. They are both single.

Having been stranded at the
village since March 2, she was malnourished. Rasidah had been surviving
on the dozen packets of Mamee that were in the house. Around the house,
there were empty bottles of water. Her heavy frame made it a constant
struggle to move. She had to crawl to get from one point to another.

The
physical hardship was compounded by the realisation that if there was
another attack by the terrorists, or if there was another barrage laid
down, she's be helpless. She shielded herself with a blanket at night as
heavy battles raged on outside her door.

Her only contact with
the outside world was huge window at the corner of where she was; and
the view wasn't at all reassuring. Every time she looked outside, she
could see the structure that was once a house, a scant 20 metres away,
that had been burned down.

We were caught in a Catch-22 situation.

As
journalists, we've been trained to cover the story, not be the story.
But in this case, we couldn't just leave her there. Three of us lifted
her into the back seat of our truck. Yusof and Rahman had to ride in the
carrier section of the truck, along with their prized motorcycles. They
were told to hang tight because this was going to be a 'hot extract'.
There was no time for sight-seeing, we were going to floor it and if
they weren't secured. We were not stopping for anyone.

As we
gunned the engine and kicked up a rooster tail of dust to make our
escape, Yusof yelled for us to stop. Instinctively, we jammed on the
brakes. He hopped out of the carrier and ran straight into the grocery
shop we passed earlier.

Moments later, he returned with a handful
of supplies. "I'll pay the owner when I see him again," he sheepishly
said as he dumped everything into the back and clambered aboard. We hit
the gas.

A few kilometres ahead, we passed by a heavy military
convoy. We gave them the universal greeting when you're on the road –
the high beam – and they responded. They were apparently on their way to
Kg Sg Nyamuk, next to Kg Tanjung Batu.

When we brought Rasidah
to her family's house near the Felda Harapan evacuation centre, her
family who spotted her in our truck started wailing and came out
running. They had given her up for dead; for them, Rasidah had been
given another lease of life. They carried her into the house, gave her
milk, hugged, embraced and pawed at her like some long-lost cousin and
made us feel at home. The thank yous and expressions of gratitude were
almost endless.

In the end, Rahman got his motorcycle, Yusof his birth certificate and motorcycle, and we probably had saved a life.

We
“confessed” and showed our footage to the military and police top guns
here, before they found out. They always do. Their reaction surprised
us. We got an earful, but somehow sensed their subtle approval. One
joked that we should consider being VAT69 commandos.

Yesterday,
after holding back this story for a day, we followed up with Rashida.
She had been unwell since yesterday and had gone to a traditional
healer. Her brother, told us that she had wanted to see us before she
went but did not know how to contact us.

"Please know that if you ever need anything from us, all you have to do is ask," Kassim had said.

At a time when we are bombarded with scenes of hardship and despair , THIS felt good.

Read more: EXCLUSIVE FROM LAHAD DATU: Dramatic rescue of woman - Latest - New Straits Times [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]

innocentti wrote:rugi betol wartawan sinar ni..dapat access kat bekas battlefield cerita la benda2 menarik skit pasal pengalaman betempur anggota ke apa ka..ni tak abis2 cerita bulu roma meremang..benda terbang atas pokok..lembaga ghaib menari2..apa raaaa

innocentti wrote:aku beli 2 hari paper ni pasal nak baca kisah menarik tu..hari pertama baca okler..hari kedua baca..hmmmmm

hmmmm.??? ni mesti byk citer pasal bulu roma