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Chapter 3 Testimony of Darlene Rose

By No Greater Joy Ministries

Transcription

[intro music]

Debi Pearl:  Papa and I are going to read chords, so y'all go ahead and shut the door.

[door closes]

[children laughing]

Child:  Dinosaurs.

Announcer:  Welcome to our vintage archives collection. For a special treat, we are releasing the inspirational testimony of missionary and former prisoner of war, Darlene Rose, in five nice little bite sized pieces. Here is this week's offering.

Darlene Rose:  Some of them never returned, but those that did return never talked about what happened to them. Then I remember the day when that big black limousine, we called it the death wagon. It came up and it stopped in front of the headquarters. They called for Miss Kemp and Miss Sealy , the only two other Americans in that camp.

There was an American woman who came from another island. But we were the ones, the only two, three that were Americans that spoke the Indonesian language and were known by the people there.

That day, when they took Miss Kemp and Miss Sealy away, we all turned around and looked at one another and we asked, why were they taking them? We waited and we prayed. They did not return.

One week went by, two weeks went by. Then one day the whisper went through the whole camp as it always did, [foreign words] . The secret police are coming.

That day I ran out front so I could see Miss Kemp and Miss Sealy were getting out of the car. When I saw that there were soldiers and officers getting out of that car and running up into the headquarter office, I knew in my heart they had come for me.

I started over, toward the office because I didn't want to keep them waiting. Just then, suite 17 came down out of the office. He said, "Yes, they're coming for you. Come quickly." When I walked up into the office, they were walking around me and laughing.

There was only one word that I understood and that was, "America." Languages have come easily to me. I spoke seven languages and I did not understand what they were saying. I had certain commands I had to give in Japanese. I just closed my ears to it because it was better for you not to know the language.

When those men walked around laughing, "America," one of them stopped and put something in front of me. I looked down at that piece of paper and I saw my name on it, "Darlene Diver." He said, "You're Darlene Diver." I said, "Yes sir, I'm Darlene Diver, but I didn't write that"

He said, "I didn't ask you if you wrote it. What do you know about Morse Code?" He began to tap out messages on that desk to me. I didn't know Morse Code. I didn't know what he was tapping out, so I didn't respond. I said, "Sir, I do not know Morse Code."

He said, "Go over and get another dress. Come back. We're going to take you somewhere else to intern you." I ran over and I grabbed a dress, which had a full circular skirt. Why I had put that dress on that day, I don't know, but I had another one. So I grabbed that, and I grabbed my Bible off of the top rack where I'd been sleeping.

Then I ran back so that I could get into the car. They ushered me in with two soldiers, one on either side. They had their bayonets fixed on the gun, and the two officers were up front with the chauffeur.

When we came down to the city of Makassar, I recognized the building into which they were going to go into the driveway. I saw that they had made a jail out of it.

There, just in front of me as we pulled up, I saw Miss Kemp, a woman who had weighed about 170 pounds, and in just two weeks that woman looked like she was skin and bone. She was hanging onto the bars and shaking her head at me. I saw her arms were all black and blue. When I stepped out of that car, I just cried out to the Lord, Lord, you took Russell. Must I now go through this?

And so sweetly my Lord answered me. He said, my child whom I love, they are the ones that I chasten. I discipline. I said, all right, Lord. But please help me to be a good soldier. Those were the last words that Dr. Jeffrey ever said to me. When he was being taken away from our camp, I ran up to the back of the truck. He was being taken to the men's camp, and I looked up at him. I said, "Goodbye, Dr. Jeffrey."

He leaned down, and he put his hand over mine and patted it. He said, "Lassie, whatever you do, be a good soldier for Jesus Christ."

I said, "Lord, I don't know what's going to happen to me here, but please make me to be a good soldier." I said, "If ever I come out of this place and if any of my fellow Americans ever hear about what happened to me here, I don't want them to be ashamed of me."

The first thing they grabbed away was my Bible. They said, "You don't need that, and you are not going to have it. You'd just sit in that cell, and you would read that book and not think about your evil deeds against the Imperial Japanese Army."
They grabbed the other dress, and I handed it then as they were trying to grab it.

I said to the girl there behind the desk, "Would you see that Miss Kemp gets this because she hadn't even had time to get a dress or anything except for the work suit that she was wearing.

As I walked out through that cell block, there was a man behind me with his bayonet on the gun. When you feel the prick of that bayonet, you move. I was moving to try to keep ahead of it. Went across a courtyard, and then there was another big cell block there. I saw the guard point this way. I turned, and I went along that cell block.

He came to a cell that had been completely boarded up, the window, so that no one could see who was in that one. Then he stopped at that one. I looked up and I read on the door, " [speaks Indonesian] This person must die." I knew I was in death row. I could hear Miss Sealy, and I knew that within two weeks that woman was a raving maniac.

When he opened the door and shoved me in, I hit the other wall and I turned around. I came back, and I dropped on my knees in front of the door because I wanted to watch that key. I knew when it made a complete revolution, I was locked in death row. So I sat there, and I saw that man pull the key out and start to walk away.

I suddenly realized I was sitting on the floor, and I was singing. But you know what? I was singing a song I learned as a little girl in Sunday School. "Fear not, little flock, whatever your lot. He enters all rooms, the doors being shut. He never forsakes. He never is gone. So count on his presence from darkness 'til dawn."

I knew that they could not lock my Lord out of that cell, even when they locked me in. I don't know if you'll understand it, but that little cell became a sanctuary to me because my God was there with me.

Man:  Amen.

Darlene:  That afternoon they threw a plate of rice across the floor to me. It was in a tin plate with rice across the floor to me. It was in a tin plate with no spoon, nothing to eat it with, but I had learned well from the Indonesians. I knew how to get a bit of rice and roll it into a ball, stick it down there and with your thumb you go [click] like that right into your mouth. But I couldn't eat. When he picked it up, he said, "So, you don't like sugar." There was a little bit of sugar in the top of it. He said, "You'll never get it again." And no, I didn't.

They left me there in that cell about 48 hours without allowing me to go out and relieve myself. I prayed and I suffered.

I knew that if I did anything on the floor of that cell, that I might be like some of the others. You have to eat it up off the floor. It wasn't until the next day in the late afternoon they finally took me out to where there was a toilet, and I looked at the door. It was shut, but I could see fecal matter oozing out from under that door.

When I reached to open the door, it just gushed out. I said, "Lord, I have all these ulcers on my leg. If I step into that, it'll be almost to my knees." I saw a young man run up to the officer who was watching me to see what I would do.

The young man said, "I will get water for you, sir. I will wash that down for you." He just nodded to him in that way. So he ran.

I can't tell you how many buckets of water that young man carried, and I know that he knew why it was, 'til he finally had it cleaned out. Then I was taken back, and they realized that I had dysentery. I had had dysentery. I knew that, but somebody had to pick up the extra work. Those of us who were still on our feet tried to do the other things our sick people could not do.

When they found out that I had dysentery, they didn't bring me any rice, the dry rice. I saw the first day when he tossed that across the floor to me, and the only opening or light came through the little transom above the door.
And I reached down and I thought in the dim light in the cell that beautiful white stuff on the top, and I clapped my hands and I said, "Lord, there's somebody out there that knows I just love grated coconut." But then when I picked it up and the light from the transom fell on it, I realized it wasn't coconut. It was full of worms.

I started to push the worms up onto the side of the plate, but because there was nothing but an open tin that they had brought into my cell, and I had dysentery, and hundreds of these big blue bottle fliers were in the cell with me all the time. And they left the bucket there and they came and they were sitting on my rice and they were eating those worms and I was trying to get rid of them.

I kept going like that, but you can't handle rice porridge. It was just rice that had not been washed. It was dirty. There was no salt in it. Because I also had berry‑berry, which is a form of dropsy, and my legs were swelling and they knew that I had the dysentery so that's why they put me on rice porridge.

And as I was pushing those worms up on there, I decided if those flies can eat it, so can I and I never took another worm out of there. I could bow my head and thank God that I had that bit of rice porridge and perhaps a bit of protein as well, and I would eat it and say, "Thank you, Lord. I could be here without anything."

Yes, I went to the hearings. I asked the Lord to help me never to cry before them. No matter what they did, I never shed a tear before them. Oh, they knew how to use Judo chops on you. I thought many of times he was going to break my neck. Then with his finger he would flick me right between my eyes. I didn't realize that was such a sensitive place. The doctor said there are many nerves there. My eyes became black and blue.

I would answer their questions that I know I did not have a radio. No, sir, I did not go into the jungle. I have never reported to any of the allies anything about troop movements. I don't know anything about them. I don't know anything about your planes. I have never had contact with anybody from the native sector. No, sir, I did not have a radio.

"What did you do with the radio?" I said, "Sir, I never had a radio." No matter what you said, they wouldn't believe you. The man that was just out of my line of vision would make the questions, and this fellow would turn them into the Indonesian language and he would shoot them at me, and I'd say, "Sir, I am innocent. I did not spy on the Japanese. I have never been outside of that camp. I don't know anything about your soldiers. I don't know anything about where you have your encampments."

It didn't make any difference what you said. Even though they tried to brainwash you and they beat you and other things, I never shed a tear. But I'll be honest with you tonight, when I got back to that cell and the guard would lock the door and I knew he was gone and he couldn't hear me, I wept literally buckets of tears. I cried. I said, "Please, Jesus. I can't go through another one. Please, Lord, no more. No more. I can't do it."

And always he would say to me, "But, my child, my grace is sufficient for you." I didn't know why I had felt I had to memorize a poem by Annie Johnson Flint. Two of our missionaries had sent it to music. When the Lord would say this, "My child, my grace is sufficient for you," I would sit up in the cell and I'd take that skirt, my dress, and I would wipe up all the tears less the guard come back and find them.

Then I would begin to sing, "He giveth more grace when the burdens grow greater. He sendeth more strength when the labors increased. To added afflictions He addeth His mercy. To multiplied trials He multiplies peace. When we have exhausted our store of endurance and our strength has failed ere the day is half done, when we reach the end of our hoarded resources, Our Father's full giving is only begun. His love has no limit. His grace has no measure. His power has no boundary known unto men, for out of His infinite riches in Jesus, He giveth, and giveth, and giveth again."

And I could go through another one and another one, until finally I knew I was to be executed. They told me that I was to be executed as an American spy. I had continually lost weight. I had malaria now.

One day I needed some air and I climbed up the bars of the window. I was glad that I had gymnastics and swimming. I had strong arms and I pulled myself up the bars until I could reach the transom above the door.

The minute I got up there and I was waiting for the air to strike my face, I looked down and there was a knife on the ledge. I dropped to the floor and I was shaking. I said, "Lord, I think they've planted that there. They're going to try to make out that I've had contact with somebody to have gotten that knife. I don't know where it came from, Lord."

Then I got my dress and I went and I wiped off all my fingerprints everywhere that I could find and I sat down on the floor and, oh, the fear that came over me because I knew somebody had put that knife there and I said, "Lord, if they find it, they will say they have evidence against me that somebody was getting a knife to me."

For three days, I prayed and I prayed that God would remove that knife somehow and I said, "Lord, if you could make that axehead to swim, if you could lift that iron up out of that water until it surfaced to the top," I said, "Lord, it's nothing for you to remove that knife, Lord, before they find it."

Three days I waited and I prayed and I said, "Lord, you can take it away." I went up and I pulled myself up the bars of the window and I had not left my room in all those days. I looked there and the knife was gone.

Do you believe he is who he said he was? I do.

I had become very, very ill. When I came out of that cell I weighed 60 pounds. This one day I was having a fever again, the malaria. I would shake with the chills and then terrible fever would come over me. It was cerebral malaria that usually is fatal. This day I said, "Lord, I really need some air."

I pulled myself up until I got hold of the bars of the window. Then I looked out and I saw that the guard was coming. He was bringing the native women, who were there for just minor misdemeanors.

There was Miss Kemp also. She looked so terrible. I was watching them and suddenly I realized that there was something about one woman that was with the group.

Every time the guard...with his gun on his arm went in that direction, this woman would scurry off in the other direction. I watched her. I looked down there and I thought, "There she goes and there he goes." He's coming back now. Here she's standing there as if she hadn't been doing anything.

He clicked his heels and then he went off in that direction again. I watched her and there she was. She was headed for that fence at the end of the courtyard, and I thought if she wants to go over by the fence, why didn't she just go over there by the fence?

But no, this time he went back, and when she got to the fence, I saw a hand come through that fence, and on that hand was a whole bunch of bananas and she put it in under her sarong and she walked away and nobody knew she had those bananas. But I did.

I could smell bananas. I could remember the flavor of bananas. And I looked at those bananas. When he passed them over, they had disappeared now and I just dropped down off of that door and I got on my knees and I said, "Lord, I'm not asking for a whole bunch like she has. I just want one banana, Lord."

Then I began to figure out how God could get a banana into that cell to me. Don't tell me you haven't done it, tried to figure out how God could answer your prayer. I said, "Lord, now, there are four possibilities. These are the two men, Lord, that have been trying me. Neither one of those men would ever bring me a banana. I know that."

And this is that guard that's on duty in the daytime and I know he wouldn't. He wouldn't bring me a banana. And I said, "Then there is this older Indonesian man that comes at night to guard.

I think he might even bring me a banana, but Lord, please, you musn't ask him. If he were caught bringing a banana to me, they'd just shoot him." So I said, "Lord, please don't even ask him. If he were caught bringing a banana to me, they'd just shoot him. Lord, please don't even let him think about bringing me a banana, will you.

Lord, there is no way you could ever get a banana into this cell to me. Please, don't think that I'm not grateful, I really am grateful for the rice porridge. I just saw that banana, and I thought I wanted one.

The next day, I heard officers coming. Often when ships were in, you were put out on display before these men. I said, Lord, I really need strength to stand on my feet, so that when I get out there, I can make a proper bow to them.

Lord, help me to bow low enough, so they won't hit me across the back with their canes, which they always carried.
When that door of the cell opened, I looked and in the door stood our Japanese camp commander, from that other camp, from which I had been brought down to the prison. He was smiling.

The months had gone by, and this was the first time I'd ever seen a smile on anyone's face. I was so thrilled to see that man, to see that smile on his face, I just clapped my hands, and I said [foreign words] , it's like seeing a friend.

I saw the big tears come in his eyes. He turned and walked right back out of the cell without a word. He began to talk to those two men, who had been trying me. I saw their heads getting lower, and lower, as he talked, and talked.
I don't really know what he said. I've always felt that what he was telling them was what I had said to him the day when I heard that Russell had been gone for three months.

The late afternoon, Mr. Humaghi called me over to his office. He said, "Nonya this is war."

I said, "Yes sir, I understand that."

He said, "What you heard this afternoon, many women in Japan have heard."

I said, "I understand that, sir."

He said, "You're very young, some day the war really will be over. You can go back to America, you can go dancing, go to the theaters, and you can forget all about these awful days. You can marry again."

I said, "Sir, may I have permission to speak to you?" You never spoke to them without first asking permission, they just instinctively threw up their hand, and smacked you across the mouth.

I said, "May I have permission to speak to you?"

He motioned for me to sit down at his desk, there was a chair there. He went around and sat down behind it. I said, "I would like to tell you about someone, perhaps you don't even know. I didn't learn about him until I was nine years old, back in Boone, Iowa, in America. His name is Jesus. He's the son of God, The creator, who created all things."

"That's why I don't sorrow, like people that have no hope. I know that some day I will see Russell again. Mr. Humaghi, I don't know, maybe you never heard about Jesus, so I would like to tell you about Him. That's why I don't hate you, Mr. Humaghi. Where the love of Jesus is there's no room for hatred."

I said, "My Lord gave his life for you too." God gave me the most beautiful opportunity, to lay a plan of salvation before that man. As I talked to him, I saw the tears start down over his cheeks. I said, "He loves you, Mr. Humaghi. Maybe God brought me here just for you. I don't know, but if you were to believe it would be worth everything that it's cost me."

He got up. He couldn't control his tears anymore and he went into his room. I could hear him crying and blowing his nose in there. I only know this, that from that moment on that man was my friend.

Announcer:  We hope you are encouraged and inspired by this portion of the testimony of Darlene Rose. As always, don't forget to check out our great weekly specials.

[music]

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