While living here, we experienced food shortages and water shortages. We made up for it in some ways, and some ways were not too honorable. For example, the Army Signal Corps tunnel did not end when it came to the end of the tunnel -- there was a little hole that you could crawl through. And if you crawled through it, you'd find a food storage tunnel. You could discreetly open boxes and eat and dispose of canned goods such as peaches and pears. That supplemented our diets. There was one Marine that was also serving with the Signal Corps, name of Sontag. I didn't know him that well, but he was from Chicago. He was always clean and neat. We did not have any way to wash our clothes and we lived in them day after day. We looked pretty scraggly. I asked him how he did it. He said that, not only did he appear clean and shaved, but he also had food -- things we couldn't get like bread and cheese. He told us that you just have to make up your mind to take it like you own it; present yourself in the best manner you can, clean yourself up the best you can, and go into the place and take what you want. I decided to try it.

I made my plans well. I cleaned myself up as best I could, and went into a hospital tunnel where a refrigerator was. There was no one at the door, so I entered. There was a long table with perhaps forty or fifty people sitting around it. There was a man standing at the end of the table, making a speech. He was speaking into a microphone. With all these people there, it was kind of close quarters. I went past these people and went to the refrigerator. I don't even remember what I got, I think bread and cheese. When I came out, I went by those people again. When I came out, there was a guard by the door. He asked me what I was doing in there, and I told him that I had to go in there to get something. He said that I could not go in there because President Quezon is making his inaugural address. You see, Quezon’s term had run out while he was on Corregidor, and since they could not have an election because the Japanese were in control of the country, Quezon was simply inaugurated for another term. I was stealing a cheese sandwich in the same corridor where he was making his speech. I had seen Quezon before, but I had been so nervous, excited, and sweaty-palmed that I did not recognize the man talking!

FALL OF BATAAN, APRIL 1942

Then on about the 1st of April, the enemy started up the Bataan Peninsula, determined not to be stopped. And they were not. After months of day in, day out service on the front line, and days of hard fighting without air protection, “Wainwright’s Skinny Warriors” (as they dubbed themselves) gave up the fight. On the day 9 April, the Japanese occupied the whole of the Peninsula. The morning of the 10th, I saw them come on Corregidor, the battered, dirty, wet, tired, sick remnants of the Usaffe Forces. They had fled the mainland by any means at their command, rafts, logs, small boats, and some even swimming the several mile neck of water separating Corregidor from the Mainland.

We survived on the island of Corregidor, but news from Bataan was bad. Finally one day, the whole thing collapsed. People were coming across on logs and little boats. I imagine some drowned. It was about a quarter mile from Bataan to Corregidor by water. I think some would have rather drown than get captured. Some crawled out of the water, retching and covered with oil.

That was an ominous morning on Corregidor; those men had a look on their faces of having seen too much, and I think everyone knew then that it was only a matter of when we would surrender, and not if. The fall of Bataan brought the enemy cannon up to point blank range on our little island. From that day on, we were under constant observation from a captive balloon on Bataan. So well were we observed, that even were an individual to expose himself too often, he would draw some shell-fire directed for him personally.

After that, the Japanese were very close. They began shelling us with two hundred forty-millimeter mortars, and they were devastating. They tore up everything. They tore up the roads, beach defenses -- everything we had. They even shot over Corregidor.

There were three other islands fortified with large disappearing guns, twelve-inch mortars that would come out of the concrete, fire, and go back in again. The Japanese kept pecking away at them with the 240-millimeter shells until they disabled all of them. They disabled the remaining aircraft defenses so that the Japanese were able to come over without any interference and they could bomb hundreds of times without losing a plane. They would re-load their bombs and return to Corregidor and they could do this on a continual basis so that we were almost constantly under attack. Not only from 240-millimeter guns, small guns, but also from bomb attacks. There was one period, perhaps after Bataan had fallen that the Japs waited until they were ready to really attack Corregidor, that it was fairly quiet . They left us alone for week, maybe even a month. It was so quiet that living in the tunnels became intolerable.

The ring was tightening on Corregidor. Daily conditions were becoming worse. The troops could not be fed regularly, as field kitchens were blown up almost as soon as they were set up. Part of the time -- most of it -- the men had to be fed cold emergency rations. All of our artillery, except very few pieces, were out of commission and they were unable to fire because of the torrent of fire they drew from the enemy. Daily we heard from our own radio (The Voice of Freedom) and from KGEI how high the morale was and how glorious the fight was, but it was not. The defeats, the constant harassing, the rottenness of command, the inequality in food distribution, and the growing suspicion that there was “something rotten in Denmark” about the whole thing, had driven morale to an extreme low.

Coming out of the tunnels, when we saw all the good sunshine and fresh air, some of us decided to move outside. I was one of those, and, with my friend, we managed to get some tents and bunks and live outside of the tunnel relatively comfortably for the time being. Even at this time, we knew the Japs had some 75-millimeter cannons on Bataan, right opposite of Corregidor, the town's name I forget. But occasionally they would shoot at people smoking cigarettes at night, so we knew they were there.

While living outside the tunnel, at Monkey Point End, we met MacArthur, every day we met the kid, Douglas MacArthur, Junior, and Mrs. MacArthur, and they were very nice people, and quite brave. They did not live in the tunnel, but in a dwelling place quite a distance from the tunnel. I think MacArthur was doing that to show the people that had to live outside on the beaches that he could be out there if they had to be out there. However, when the serious shelling and constant bombing began, MacArthur moved into the tunnel, and not too long after that we learned that he was leaving on a submarine with some other officers and some nurses. Of course, he was criticized for that by the people who had to stay. I did not see him leave, but some did. He left secretly, into Manila Bay, sneaked up to the pier, and they quietly loaded him up with his officers and the nurses, and they took off. They took off for Mindanao, or some place. I understand that he was put aboard a different type of boat and went to Australia.

There are numerous stories told me by men who were present, and also things I’ve seen myself, that can hardly be explained as mere “accident”. The enemy had artillery lined up hub to hub within murderous range of our 12 inch mortars, and the gun captain had all possible data as to range, deflection, etc. He begged his colonel for permission to blow them off the map, but permission was refused on the ground that we needed to conserve ammunition and ammunition dumps were being hit daily. When the final show came, there were no guns to fire on the Japanese landing forces. And then there was the fellow who was on a radio-plane-locator (268) who claims positively that Eba Field had warned Clark Field at least 40 minutes in advance of the air attack on Clark of the coming attack -- and still most of our planes there were destroyed on the ground. Also that six new subs that were sent to attack the enemy convoy and somehow the orders were changed (or disobeyed) -- instead two antiquated submarines were sent. On the 3rd of May, the officers of the 1st Battalion, 4th Marines informed the commanding officer (Col. Beecher) that the men could stay in their foxholes no longer. The Colonel told the men to hold out 48 hours longer, and the whole situation would be changed. And changed it was.

We had a theory about where the shells were going to land. If they made a clapping sound, like clapping hands together, or rather like cupping the hands together, then we thought they were coming at us. If they made a high cracking sound, they were headed somewhere else. Perhaps our theories were not so bad, because one day after several weeks out there, we were sitting in the sunshine, under the tent, and we heard three plop, plop, plop, sounds, like cupped hands. We all recognized the sound that we thought meant they were headed for us, so we took off as fast as we could go for the tunnel, and we stayed there overnight. In the morning, we went out and saw that all we could find of our tents and bunks were bits and pieces of cotton up in the trees, and metal here and there. They seemed to have been sighting our spot. They tore it up very effectively.

SURRENDER ANNOUNCED TO THE MEN

On 6th May at 10 am I heard General Beebe ask the commander of the Japanese forces to cease firing and offered to Surrender the fortified islands (Drum, Hughes, Frank and Corregidor) with Personnel and Equipment as existed at 12 noon on that day. The firing did not cease, but the surrender was accepted. The Japanese landing force had been ashore about 12 hours and had been in combat with our beach defense for that length of time. Early in the morning of the next day, a heavy barrage was thrown at some isolated areas and then the firing finally ceased.

On the 6th when we knew the surrender to be fact, we broke open a storeroom and ate canned fruit and milk, the first in months, although we were starving for the lack of it. Major Hart called us together and told us how to act when we were prisoners and he shook hands all around and said he was proud to have served with us and we also with him. It was pretty dramatic, but somehow it seemed a little false and overdone. At 4 o’clock the first Japs came into the station.

About the first of May 1942, the Japanese invaded Corregidor with assault boats and troops. They attempted to land on the beaches where the beach defenses were dug in. Guns and riflemen were dug in, but the wire was damaged, and some men were killed and wounded with the shelling. The Japanese were able to get ashore, and as a matter of fact, they were able to get a tank ashore. The battle for the island went on for several days. Eventually, the Japanese were able to win it. Then they were moving closer and closer to Malinta Tunnel. I could hear the battle going on while I was in the temporary radio station office set up in the entrance copying messages and sending messages. I could hear the guns going off. I could tell the difference from the American guns and the Japanese guns. The Japanese guns had a "zip-zip" sound and the American guns had a "thung-thung" sound. It was right outside my door. I was quite safe because I was behind a pile of sandbags almost up to the ceiling, maybe ten feet thick at the bottom and six or eight feet thick at the top. No bullets could go through the radio station. I was copying a radio message from the Hawaiian Islands, Radio Station NPO. It was to General Wainwright, and it was from President Roosevelt.

HDQRS U.S.A.F.F.E. - Ft. Mills; P.I.
Jan 15, 1942
Subject: Msg from Gen. MacArthur.
To: All Unit Commanders

The following message from Gen. MacArthur -- there will be read and explained to all troops. Every Company commander is charged with personal responsibility for the delivery of this message. Each Headquarters will follow up to insure reception by each company or similar unit.

“Help is on the way from the U.S. Thousands of troops and hundreds of planes are being dispatched. The exact time of arrival of reinforcements is unknown as they will have to fight their way through Japanese attempts against them. It is imperative that our troops hold until these reinforcements arrive.

“No further retreat is possible. We have more troops in Bataan than the Japanese have thrown against us. Our supplies are ample; a determined defense will defeat the enemy attack. It is a question now of courage and determination. Men who run will merely be destroyed, but men who fight will save themselves and their country.

“I call on every soldier in Bataan to fight in his assigned position resisting every attack. This is the only salvation. If we fight we will win; if we retreat we will be destroyed.”

MacArthur
By command of Gen. MacArthur
Earl H. Seals
Col. A.G.D.
Adj. Genl.

When I got this message, I thought, "I have got to get this message." I was very busy copying this message and I didn't copy it perfectly. The message was in effect to say that you have done all that could be expected of you. It was not exactly telling Wainwright to surrender, but in effect, if you read the whole message, you knew that was what the President was saying. "You have done everything you can do, so now you can throw in the towel." The message was long. When I completed the message, I retyped it because it was full of errors.

Then I took a copy of it to the Navy Radio station. On my way, I had to pass the Finance Office where we kept all the money. There were soldiers with paper cutters there, and they were cutting up all the money. They had money in slivers on the floor about a foot deep. They did not want it in the hand of the Japanese. I understand that there was quite a lot of gold on Corregidor and they loaded that on board the USS Kanopus before it was sunk. They sailed alongside the island and strewed the gold on the bottom of the bay to hide it. When I was passing the Finance Office, they offered me money, twenty-dollar bills, but I refused it. I didn't want money because it would be useless, I thought, if we were to become Japanese prisoners -- why have the money? That was a mistake! It was valuable because you could use it with the Filipinos. Now to get back to my story -- the message from Roosevelt to Wainwright. I was acting as a courier then, taking the message over to the Navy radio station. I found, to my chagrin, that the message was received by them a good half-hour before I got my message there. They were copying the same broadcast that I was.

“Motors In The West”

The old man with the whiskers was pointing straight at me; He said, “Your country needs you “, so I signed up for three.

The recruiting sergeant told me of a life which was the best, but not one word was said that day of Motors In The West.

He spoke to me in delicate tones as if I were a man of means; “Travel is what you need,” he said, “Why not try the Philippines.”

So now I am here; the war is on; I never would have guessed that this small phrase could mean so much -- Flash -- Motors In The West.

There was a time, here on the Rock when life was filled with cheer; our main concern was how to pay our monthly bill for beer.

Now the club is bombed, the beer is gone; we’re in a bomb-proof pressed;
Quiet, Silence, There is goes again -- Flash -- Motors In The West.

Somewhere the sun is shining; somewhere there is rest;
But there’s peace no more on Corregidor;
There’s Motors In The West.

But MacArthur’s boys shall carry on, and each will do his best
To throw a monkey wrench in those Motors In The West.

Anyway, the Japanese prevailed in their attack. They eventually took over the island, even though the Marines said that we had them all killed and there was no reason to surrender now. It always amazed me that the Japanese would spend as much materiel as they did and manpower as they did when we were theirs all the time. They did not have to invade us – they could have just kept us there. They could just shell us everyday and no one would have gotten killed on their side and eventually we would have given up. They must have known that, but perhaps it was a matter of pride. They did not want the Americans to hold out so long against the Imperial Forces.

We knew not how to surrender. First we were instructed to kneel, hands behind our backs, then on top of our heads, then to kneel hands elevated, but finally when the Jap officers arrived they motioned us to stand and act natural; the humiliating positions were our own officers’ ideas.

It was a short time later that our officers told us that we would surrender. Our officers told us how to do it. The said that we would have to stand with our hands up in the air and stack our arms -- put pistols and all weapons in a pile. We did that, and stood with our hands up in the air waiting maybe half an hour. Now, if you try to stand with your hands in the air that long, they become very heavy so that you can not hold them up much longer. When the Japanese did come, our first impression was, "My God! Those people are only about half-sized!" Their rifles were bigger than they were. They grunted at us and motioned for us to lower our hands. We appreciated that.

I had a few bad moments when a Japanese soldier who was so ugly so as to be almost comical was jabbing me with a .45 that looked as big as a canon. I did not know what he wanted and his grunts were not enlightening. That nite we were mustered and marched down the hill. We were standing almost as closely packed as possible. The sentries said -- Stop here -- then -- Sit -- and finally -- Sleep. And there we slept, out on an open road and crowded beyond belief.

The next day we were allowed to move around and settle ourselves. There did not seem to be very much animosity considering that these troops had been locked in death-combat only a few hours before. There were some instances of bullying, but not so many. Usually they were provoked by someone not showing proper respect for officers of the Japanese. The day after the surrender, I saw Americans helping Japanese clear away rubble voluntarily. I saw captors and captives alike waiting in line to draw water. There was little hate for these captors of ours. The growling was against our own officers; rightly or not, the men placed all blame on people of their own race.

After the surrender, we were allowed to sort of move around and so I moved outside to see what it looked like out there. I went to where my tent had been before and a little Japanese soldier who was a caricature of what we thought they should look like, with the buck teeth, small, camouflage on his helmet and with his rifle. He had captured about five of us. He had an American-made .45 caliber pistol and had us get down. I don't know where he got the pistol because I had not seen one before that. It was about sixteen inches long -- it was not a pistol, but a revolver. He made us get down on our knees and he stuck the pistol behind our ears and gave us a jab with it, and it was cocked. He was doing that up and down the line. There was one of the five he had captured who was an American Army officer. The Army Officer was saying to that soldier, "Wa ta she e sha" -- "I am the doctor". That must have infuriated the soldier even more because the American almost got shot. This went on for a few minutes, until a Japanese officer went by and the Jap officer yelled, "Kura!" to the Jap soldier. The soldier took off, and we appreciated seeing the Japanese officer, needless to say.

The Japanese kept us on Corregidor for some time, several days or weeks, I'm not sure. Maybe just that day and the next day. But they marched us out the end opposite of where the temporary radio station was. At the other end, there was a road that ran around Malinta Tunnel and the rocky hill on the side of the road rose up about two hundred forty feet. There were people up there that would not surrender and kept fighting. The Japanese were still shelling. I don't know how many people were captured, but I am positive that it was in the thousands, perhaps twenty thousand. At night we could see the shelling going on. A barrage began to move on top of the hill about a mile away. Every time a shelling would happen it would be a little closer to us. We were not alone -- the Japanese were with us, but this barrage would get closer and closer to these thousands of people. I could hear the crunch -- the salvo -- and each one would be closer still. Well, on the next crunch, I was ready to go and I said, "This is it!" The Japanese were with us and they were just as afraid of getting crunched as I was. They were running with flashlights and screaming and yelling and waving and yelling toward the narrow straight of water where the shelling was coming from. Luckily they got their signal across and the barrage was stopped. Otherwise, they certainly would have killed thousands of people.

The next day we were concentrated in a small area known now as 92nd. There we lived until May 23rd. While at 92nd, we had trouble getting water and food, and dysentery and diarrhea were riotous. I spent part of the time in the hospital, recovering just in time to rejoin my associates to leave Corregidor. We went aboard an old Jap cattle boat and stayed there overnite. The next morning we landed at Pasay landing, party fashion.

MANILA:II

We stayed there during that night. It was so crowded that you had to lay up against each other. In the morning they roused us and said that we had to get on a Japanese freighter. It was on the side of the island, opposite of Bataan. They had us get onto some assault boats to go out to the freighter. While I was in line, I saw a large case about two and a half by two and a half feet, or three by three, full of Indian Peco tea next to the line. I remembered that I had a brand new pair of Navy issued socks, and they were pretty big. So with some foresight, I stuffed my socks full of tea -- took those new big socks and filled them full of that tea. I think others might have done the same thing because there was a lot of tea already scooped out of the box.

The Japanese salt boats were quite a strange thing. We rode high in the water and fell from side to side. They would lean and fall off the left, and if they made a turn to the left, then it would fall to the right. It would never fall over, so the thing would take on water. I could never understand why they built their boats that way. Maybe to get over the wire. We got on the freighter and it steamed across the bay. We went across the bay and got into water shallow enough for us to walk out. I am not positive, but we either got right out of the freighter or they put us in assault boats in the shallow water. They made us jump out into the water, up to about our chests, and wade into shore. We did that by the thousands.

BILIBID PRISON

We went ashore in Pasay off the same attack boats the Nips used to board Corregidor. We marched in a roundabout route to the old Bilibid Prison -- this was intended, no doubt, to show us off to as many Filipinos as possible. Once, a woman, a white woman, broke from the crowd and started toward us. She was crying. A sentry waved her back. She must have recognized someone dear to her. On the way we stopped for rest in front of some houses where some Japanese were living. They broke out a hose and supplied water to the guard houses; for a while it looked as if we would be refused a drink, however we were allowed to drink our fill.

We were marched through Manila. It is a big city. The Filipinos came out to look at this scraggly bunch of American prisoners, and we marched through the city. Some of the prisoners were married to some of the Filipino women and some were acquainted with others. You could see people breaking from the crowd to hug some of the prisoners, and then a Japanese soldier would beat them back. Some of the Filipinos would bring water.

About 4 PM we arrived at Bilibid, and that nite we were to be initiated in a diet we were to have for many a meal -- rice!

We went to a place called Bilibid Prison. This prison was an infamous place from the Spanish-American War. Some bad things happened there during the war against Spain. It always had a bad image, something like the Black Hole of Calcutta. It didn't seem that bad, but there was not enough room for all those thousands of prisoners. They crowded us in there, and there we waited. They took some somewhere else.

CABANATUAN

Early the following morning, we marched to the railway station and boarded box cars, 200 men to the Car! And the VFW complained about 40 and 8 --. The same day we arrived in Cabanatuan Nueva Ecija Province. Here we bivouaced for the nite in a small field. Davis and I coaxed a small Filipin lad over to the fence and managed to buy a few mangoes. That was the first fruit we’d eaten since before the war! We were ravenous for it. Towards evening it began to rain. At first we tried to weather it in our PuP tent; in there we practically drowned in ten minutes. We spent the remainder of the night in a schoolhouse.

After a couple days, we were put on a railroad train. I remember that quite well. The boxcars were small, but they crowded about a hundred twenty-five prisoners into them. There was barely breathing air. It was hot -- the Philippines is a hot country. With the doors almost closed and a hundred twenty-five prisoners in there, it was quite stuffy. The train trip took a day. We arrived in a town about fifty or seventy-five miles from Manila -- Cabanatuan. It was the same town we had run through on our way to Bataan as the Japanese had approached the peninsula before taking Bataan. Along the way, Filipinos would run up to the train and offer things for sale -- mangoes, papayas, oranges, I'm not sure. They offered us whatever fruit they had. The mango was particularly delicious. It was yellow and had a big seed in it almost as big as the fruit.

FORGOTTEN MEN

In a camp of Nipa Barracks, lost deep in the Phillippines are a bunch of forgotten warriors, with nothing left but dreams.
We are fighting a greater battle than the battle we fought and lost; It’s a battle against the elements, a battle with life the cost.

Some came through awful torture of days and nights of hell;
In the struggle of the Little “Rock” where many of them fell.
But now it’s not how much you know, or how quick you hit the ditch;
It’s not the rate you once held, or whether or not you’re rich.

No one cares who you know back home or what kind of life you led;
It’s just how long you can stick it out that governs your lot instead.
This fight we’re fighting at present is against flies and disease, and with decent living condition, we could fight our case with ease.

It’s rice for breakfast, noon and night, and it rains most every day;
and sleep on bamboo slats at night with no better place to lay.

We eat from an old tin can that we’re luck enough to get,
and the medical supplies we ought to get, we haven’t seen as yet.

Struggling for our bare existence through hunger, sickness and sweat,
those of use who do come through, perhaps we can prove our worth by telling the straightest tale yet told of a terrible hell on earth.
By Sgt. Middleton, USMC, 4th Reg (written at camp #3 Cabanatuan)
Province Ujewa Ecija -- P1 --

In Cabanatuan we were unloaded and marched into a football field, I think a high-school football field. We were told to lay down and go to sleep. We stayed overnight and it rained all night. In the morning they roused us early. They had some rice cooked for us. This was before daylight, and after eating, we started to march.

The next morning at 4 we started marching. We marched all that day, it seemed that each step must surely be our last one. We were thirsty, so men were drinking water from mud puddles along the way. We had some water in our canteen, but we were fearful if we drink it that we would have to carry on, we knew not how long without any.

I had a canteen full of water and I was rationing myself with the water. I was so careful that when I finished the march, I still had water left. Others were not so careful. I saw prisoners leave the ranks and drink real sloppy, muddy water. A caribou would be by the side of the road, and the prisoners would run right over there and start drinking the water. I am sure that these people died later on.

No-one knew where we were headed. Finally, when mountains were only a short way off, we stopped. Along the way, sentries who were walking with us were relieved every hour or two, but we marched on.

We did not know where we were marching. We took all of our belongings. I remember there was one fellow named Parks who carried his typewriter, a heavy old-fashioned one that we used in the radio station. We marched for about twenty miles. Our stragglers were picked up by truck, I think at least they weren't killed.

We marched until about four o'clock in the afternoon and we saw what appeared to be a big camp. We thought, "Thank God we're here." I could not walk another step. We got to the gate -- and walked on by. We walked for another several miles, and we came to another camp like that. I thought again, "Thank God we are here." I couldn't walk another step. We got to that gate -- and we walked right by that one, too! About three or four miles further, we came to another camp, and it was getting dark by now. I thought, "I'm not going to bite on that old joke; I'm not going to say that again." But this was our destination. Cabanatuan, Camp #3.

At camp (it was a Filipino Army training camp), we were searched for knives, etc., and assigned to barracks. One hundred-fifty men per building, 6 men to a bay, 6' by 8' by 4'. Originally these bays were designed to sleep six Filipinos, and here were six full size men in them. This camp wasn’t bad. The food wasn’t very good. We had rice with onion broth every meal for about two months.

In one section, there was about five thousand people and in the other about another five thousand. So there were about ten thousand -- and if the numbers are wrong, then my memory is wrong . We did not anticipate being fed anything, and we were very tired. We went immediately to bed. We had no trouble falling asleep. During the night, they roused us up and had us eat supper. They had set up some big iron pots and cooked up some rice. The Americans had done this with Japanese instructions, and it was done badly. Really, it was like paste. But I do think that for every mealtime there, there was a meal served. But now, back to the fellow carrying the typewriter, Parks from New York. He was a fat and sloppy guy, but he was tough. He carried that typewriter half way to Cabanatuan. Eventually he had to admit that it was too much of a burden, and he got rid of it. Some of us, or almost all of us, threw things away because it became a matter of life and death. They threw their clothes away. I started out poor,
and arrived just as poor as I had started -- except that the
tea I had stuffed into my socks made me one of the richest
of the poor. (continue)

:

back to Men