John Martinkus played an important role in supporting East Timor’s struggle for independence. In 1998, the defeat of military rule inside Indonesia opened up the space for East Timorese to organise openly for the first time in 23 years. Martinkus – a journalist – moved there to report the situation. Importantly, he documented the formation of the pro-Indonesian militias – death squads – armed by Indonesia to suppress the upsurge. John was a highly driven war correspondent and brawler.

I met John in the old Hotel Turismo in Dili in 1999, after myself being evacuated from a house that I had only just fled to. Word was that the house would be burned down. It was, eventually along with fifty-percent of the buildings in Dili.

At the Turismo, John was obviously a natural leader of the small pack of journalists and activists, which I then joined as the Correspondent for Green Left Weekly. I didn’t know John, but soon politely asked if it was true that he had a vehicle. Straight away he knew what I was getting at and growled back, “Look, I might have a vehicle and we might have a chance to go out and have a look around later, but we’re not going to just drive around like fucking idiots and get shot at, alright?” That was fair.

The Turismo was the last point in Dili outside of the UN compound where a significant number of foreigners remained. The military wanted us out so that nothing could be reported internationally. After a day or so, gunmen came into the hotel courtyard and started firing into the air. I can’t remember how, maybe we’d been hanging out with John, because when this was happening, there were about ten of us hiding together in the bathroom of John’s hotel room. I was scared they’d see his cigarette smoke trailing out the window and discover us – but not scared enough to ask him to put it out.

It turned out we did travel in John’s vehicle, along with one or two others. The method the military used to remove almost all international journalists was simple. They arranged or allowed some militia to shoot out the front windows. Then the soldiers – ostensibly “guarding” the hotel – went bashing on every door: “You’re under attack, the militia is attacking, come with us now for your safety…” That was a one-way ticket to the airport – gone.

Before he died, John told the story of that trick countless times. But we heard it from him perhaps for the first time. They were trying the same trick on us. It was John who negotiated with the commanders on our behalf. Rather than get on the back of the military trucks, we would only accept a military escort – to the UN compound (UNAMET), not to the airport. It worked – they agreed. We were evacuated only to another point in Dili where we could continue reporting – until the military burned down the Telecom building, after which there was no more communication save for a couple of satellite phones being monopolised by the large media organisations – the Melbourne Age and BBC – and no doubt also the UN.

Inside UNAMET there were many people – 1,500 Timorese and hundreds of UN staff, journalists, and others. I had little to do with John there. Eventually we were evacuated together on an Australian military transport plane, 10 September, to Darwin.

The Australian government had initially proposed to evacuate all foreigners from the compound, regardless of nationality, but to reject all the Timorese – i.e., those in most danger. That decision was reversed under pressure from UN staff, who wouldn’t accept their Timorese translators and staff just being abandoned. Most of the Timorese in the compound were not employed by the UN and fled the night before the UN evacuation under the cover of darkness, but under constant gunfire, to the resistance-controlled hills of Dare immediately above us. I think almost all of them made it up.

At the airport we were again in a standoff situation with the Indonesian military, with John playing a leading role. Some commander was trying to confiscate the video cassette tapes Australian filmmaker Carmela Baranowska shot during the final months of the Indonesian occupation. I’ve never understood exactly why the uniformed officers didn’t just take all Baranowska’s tapes – they certainly had the power to do so. Instead, we somehow ended up in a negotiation situation, with John in the front row. It sounds unbelievable, but as I remember it, John ended up on the ground, kneeling over Carmela’s camera or backpack and passing the tapes secretly behind his body to Carmela as they handed over some blanks to the military. Carmela would later be acclaimed for her work in East Timor and Afghanistan.

John went on to report in West Papua and Aceh, and more briefly did stints in Afghanistan and Iraq, where he was famously kidnapped in 2004. That was just after several foreigners had been kidnapped and beheaded on camera for propaganda films by sections of the Iraqi resistance. He also published several books. Like many war correspondents, Martinkus seems to have suffered greatly from post-traumatic stress, and the 2004 kidnapping loomed large. He remained belligerent and indignant to the end – a voice not only against war, but for the poor everywhere, including in his hometown – Melbourne.

John is said to be a towering figure in East Timor due to his contribution to the struggle. A principled fighter, John died too young. Today we need more fighters as brave.

Vale John Martinkus