Some time in early 1945, "G"
Co. and others boarded
several C-47 planes in an
attempt to save the world's
largest hardwood sawmill
from being destroyed by the
Japs, but some minutes away
from our destination,
advance planes radioed back
that we were too late. The
Nips had already set fire to
it and we were to abort this
jump.
We returned to base camp and
boarded an L.S.T. boat. We
landed next day at ( ) Port,
then hiked several miles up
a gravel and dirt road
toward the mountains. This
road was lined bumper to
bumper with hundreds of
motor vehicles of all types.
They had been riddled and
burned by machine guns,
apparently planes'.
That first night told us
this would probably be our
last night for quite a while
in which we would not have
to pull guard. Sergeant (I
think it was "Fowler') asked
if I thought we should pull
guard since we were the
advance platoon. I said to
wait until 10:00 p.m.; then
if all was quiet, we would
let our boys get a last good
night's sleep for a while.
At about 10:00 p.m. (fairly
bright moon) he and I walked
up and across the road from
the troops and proceeded to
relieve our kidneys when we
heard someone walking down
the road (neither of us had
a weapon with us). We
squatted behind a bush where
we were. It was a lone Nip
with fixed bayonet (which
was chromed). When he got
even with us, we could tell
he was watching the other
side of the road.
We both decided to jump him
at the same time. Sgt.
Fowler grabbed his gun and I
grabbed at the Nip. He
screamed so loud. (the Nip)
that I guess I relaxed my
hold and he took off like a
scared rabbit. Sgt. Fowler
kept the rifle, though, and
displayed the shining
bayonet to our buddies who
wanted to know what the hell
happened out there.
The order of the following
events I'm not sure of, but
I think:
The 3rd battalion hiked into
Lusirago, a village owned by
a very wealthy Cuban woman
(she graduated from the
University of California).
Her husband had been missing
for 2 years or more. She had
several houses scattered
about the country. Her large
colonial style, elegant home
had been sabotaged and
burned by guerrillas who
just plain looted for their
existence. She had her own
army -- about 1200 natives
-- all armed. She also kept
her lawyer (an Englishman)
with her wherever she went.
The lawyer smoked a pipe but
had been unable to get
tobacco.
The way I found out (I smoke
a pipe) was when Rodriguez
and I came to town, two
natives approached us and
said, "We have a warm shower
fixed for you." We went in,
stripped off while someone
poured warm water on us
through a tub or bucket with
holes in it. When we came
out, our clothes had been
washed, dried and ironed.
Next we were invited up to
the only brick house left
standing. The woman
introduced herself and her
lawyer, who invited us to
the wine cellar which was
hidden underground. It was
huge and full. We had our
pick. I became curious and
asked why she picked us. She
said, "My lawyer has had no
pipe tobacco in over two
years and he would like to
buy some if you can spare
it." I was the only one in
Co. "G" that used pipe
tobacco. I gave him some and
we became good friends.
Our battalion divided the
perimeter of the town into
several so-called "gates" or
guard posts. This woman
(above) had a 100-piece band
and every night would bring
a few band members around
and we would dance with some
of the natives. She
explained that her army was
out in front of us and would
know well ahead of us if we
were to be attacked. In
fact, one morning she sent
me word there were two Nips
sleeping in a hut just 4
doors from my gate. She
offered to have her men kill
them but I said we would
like to capture them if
possible. We had to kill
them in the long run.
Soon after, the word came
for the 3rd platoon and one
officer (a 2nd Lt. just
arrived) to go up about 30
kilometers in the mountains
and relieve 1200 guerrillas
who were to come down and be
trained in jungle warfare.
The day we arrived at our
destination, one of our men
had an appendix to rupture,
so we called (radioed) for a
small plane. When it came,
the 2nd Lt. got on the plane
with the patient and we saw
him no more.
After we set up camp, I went
out with half of the men on
a 3-day scouting trip. We
returned to camp for one day
and I went back 3 more days
with the other half. The
half that stayed behind
secured food for us and they
did a jam-up job (best
eating I had in a long
time). When the scouting
party (we always hid our
helmets, shirts and
knapsacks and put on straw
hats, dodging close contact
with natives we might see)
did locate a large body of
Nips on a return trip, we
radioed headquarters and
pretty soon a flight of
B-24's would come over and
pattern bomb the coordinates
we gave. Sometimes when it
was convenient for us, we
would watch. It was hard to
imagine how any human being
could survive such
onslaughts, but they did. We
never went in close to
observe the damage because
we knew we would still be
outnumbered about 100 to 1.
About 36 days after going
up, we were ordered to
return.
I believe next we made a
forced march until about
10:00 p.m. that night. The
order came to pull off to
the right of the trail and
everybody get a good night's
rest. The moon was bright
but there were clouds
scudding across every now
and then. I got part way
under a bush and stuck my
machete in the ground beside
me as I was fairly close to
the trail. About 1:30 a.m. I
woke up because someone was
standing over me partly on
my jacket where I could not
turn over. I figured someone
was going to relieve
himself. Just as I went to
ask him to get off me, the
moon came out from behind
the clouds. I looked up --
it was a Nip! He had his
rifle with fixed bayonet in
his hand, little billed cap
on his head, knapsack on his
back and uniform. As the
moon came out, he gave a
loud gasp. I began
stealthily trying to reach
my machete without his
noticing me move, but he was
as surprised as I was and
took off like a scared
rabbit. I woke up the guy
next to me while I could
still see the bushes shaking
in the direction he went,
but the soldier said, "You
must have been dreaming --
probably someone going to
relieve himself," and he
rolled over and went back to
sleep. Me, I didn't sleep
any more that night.
Sometime later while the
company was on a
reconnaissance, we had just
dug in for the night. I dug
a shallow foxhole because
there was a lot of gravel in
my position. As I was
putting mosquito dope on,
Hendren called out to me and
said, Rebel, there is a Jap
just came over the hill
above you and squatted
behind that bush about 30
yards in front of you. As it
was almost dark, we did not
fire our weapons unless
absolutely necessary because
it would give away our exact
position. We still had the
5-second grenades then, and
I jerked the pin out of a
grenade and made a perfect
toss. You could follow the
course of the grenade by the
trail of sparks from the
burning fuse, but just
before the sparks got to the
ground, they arced right
back over the exact route I
pitched from. I knew he had
caught my grenade and
returned it. All I could do
was get as low in my foxhole
as possible. The grenade
went off just as it touched
the ground. I got some dents
in my helmet and gravel all
down my back, and I was
stone deaf with one heck of
a headache for the next ten
hours.
I jerked the pin out of
another grenade, held it
almost 3 seconds, and tossed
it. Evidently it went off
just as he reached to catch
it. They said he called
"Medic" all night long (I
couldn't hear). The next
morning Keith went out,
finished him off, came back
and offered me his sabre. I
said 'no soap" -as a scout I
wanted nothing that might
hamper my movements or make
a noise. Neither did I care
for souvenirs. One other
time I refused a sabre
souvenir. In fact, the only
thing I was going to bring
back was two small flags.
However, one time when I hid
my musette bag back in the
bushes while I went on
patrol, some native (I
guess) must have spotted me,
and two days later when I
returned, my bag was empty.
Now that I think back, I
believe one thing that made
me feel the way I did about
souvenirs was that it might
make me remember some things
I did not want to remember.
For when I shipped out of
Finchhaven, the ship I was
on had about 60 G..I.s who
were all right physically
but were mentally pitifully
crazy, and we had to file by
their caged quarters each
time we went for our meals.
I often wonder if many of
them were ever really
healed; if they were able to
return to their normal
lives; and how it must have
affected their family and
loved ones. War is hard on
so many, whether they saw
action or stayed at home and
prayed for their loved ones
to return safe and sound.
There were those shallow
graves we found in one
village that the Japs had
evacuated. I believe they
were some of our pilots who
had been captured, and
pinned down with bamboo bars
so close they had to face
that awful sun till they
died of heat and torture. It
looked as though the Nips
even used their shallow
prison for their slit
trenches.
I
believe next we went past
Baccolod (the capital of
Negros Island) and worked
our way up a tall mountain.
This time two tanks - I
think from the 42nd Armored
- accompanied us. About 2/3
of the way up, we came to a
narrow ridge and found 3
machine guns on our right
flank holding up our
advance. We promptly knocked
out the two in the banana
grove, but then the third
one would take everything we
could throw at him and still
jump up just like a
jack-in-the-box and give us
about 30 rounds of light
machine gun fire, then
disappear before we could
get him. I finally motioned
for one of the tanks to come
up; then I fired a tracer
bullet into the location.
The tank fired a round of 75
mm. directly into that
position and before the dust
settled, that
jack-in-the-box was back
firing at us. So about four
of us slipped over the side
quickly with the others'
covering fire till we could
lob a second grenade in on
him. He attempted to come
out then, but never had a
chance.
Close to the top, we came
upon a once cultivated field
with a steep drop-off on
either side and a narrow
gauge railroad running part
way across the west side.
The field looked to be about
400 yards wide and 350 yards
deep and at that point
3-inch shells began to burst
about 20 feet above ground.
I spotted, I think, about 5
different flash locations
above us. The tank commander
said if I would sit on his
tank and mark those
locations out with trace
ammo, he would silence them.
That he did... . a couple
with only one round. Their
accuracy was utterly amazing
to me.
We then discovered the field
was mined and the tanks said
they could not risk any men
till we secured the jungle
way on the far side of the
field. We all knew there had
to be some automatic weapons
in that hedgerow. The
colonel sent word for me to
take 10 men and secure that
hedgerow; then I knew
exactly how another sergeant
in the 3rd platoon felt the
day before, when he was
ordered to take, I believe,
8 men and check out a deep
ravine on the right flank.
We all knew that the Nips
could see anybody that came
down that steep incline
before they reached the
heavily jungled bottom. Only
three came back, and how
they managed, shot up like
they were, I don't know.
I asked for volunteers and
the whole 3rd platoon
answered. I believe that
bunch would have followed me
into hell itself if I asked.
There never was or will be a
closer knit group than the
original 503rd, and
certainly no better fighting
group. I picked out 10 men,
or I believe it must have
been 11. I pointed out
places where I felt machine
guns would most likely be,
and had them spread out
about 20 ft. apart, stay
abreast and keep one eye out
for any dead grass, which
meant a mine was there. I
gave orders that at the
first shot everyone was to
hit the ground and empty at
least one clip of ammo at
the nearest fire flashes as
quickly as possible because
even the tank could not fire
the first few seconds. We
advanced almost half way
when a large Nip came out of
a spider hole, threw a
grenade and tried to run
out, but he never made it.
About 75 yards from our
destination, a fine mist
fell -�then directly in
front of me I saw this
tracer bullet from a machine
gun coming straight at me.
Knowing I could not beat a
bullet, I still squeezed the
trigger as I started diving
for the ground. About 10
feet from me, the tracer
suddenly rose up and went
over my head as if deflected
by some unseen hand, and at
the same time I saw my
explosive bullet explode as
it miraculously hit some
part of that gun. Three Nips
piled out -- one, I believe
got away. As the tanks and
troopers then opened up, we
crawled to the railroad and
out. When I took inventory,
I only had 6 wounded and all
conscious -- four crawled
out on their own. The other
two we dragged out as we
retreated. There were seven
automatic weapons in that
hedgerow, including a 40 mm
pompom, but thank goodness
he could not lower his
sights enough to hurt us.
One of the tanks seemed to
think I was still out there
(I was on their extreme left
flank). He rushed out, hit
or set off a mine which blew
a large enough hole that
when he slid off in it, only
the very back end was
sticking up. The other tank
followed his exact tracks to
where he was and somehow
grabbed that tank without
opening his turret and
pulled him back to behind
our lines. I never saw those
tanks again.
This mine field had given
General Coney and his
Imperial Marines enough time
to slip away. We continued
on up to the top of this
mountain. Rodriguez and I
were trying to find out
where they went to, when we
discovered a rope tied to a
bush on the east and steep
side of the mountain. When
we climbed down the rope, we
saw some 20 or more cave
openings on the face of the
cliff. We picked out one of
the larger caves and climbed
in. As we climbed through
the opening, we found bunk
beds two high on either side
of the cave. I lifted up the
mattress on the first bunk
top and there were some
Japanese coins. One was a
large silver coin a little
larger than our silver
dollar with a replica of Mt.
Fujiyama on one side.
(Shortly after the war, I
lost my wallet while dove
hunting on Mr. Ertle's farm,
and in it was my Nip coin.)
Rod and I continued back
into the winding cave for
maybe 150 feet. There were
candles placed at intervals
that we lit as we went. We
went through several large
rooms; one had all sorts of
hardware supplies; another
had what I estimated to be
150 lb. bombs they were
cutting open to make
explosives out of. Then when
I saw some plastic
explosive, I had Rod put his
candle out and we exited. I
told the colonel if he would
send down a demolition team
with some primer cord and a
fuse going to that room, we
could blow the whole
mountain top off. He did,
and we moved back about 500
or 600 yards. There was a
large tree standing about
where I figured the top of
that room was, and when the
explosion set off, that tree
went so high we lost it in
the sunlight. It came down
about 50 feet from us.
(EARLIER)
At one phase while advancing
up the mountain, A-20 dive
bomber planes came in on our
left flank and strafed and
bombed a deep canyon. It
proved disastrous for our
planes. We watched three
shot down-in a cross fire.
The Nips had machine guns
dug in high into the cliff
sides.
One plane that was hit and
caught on fire turned and
came down the center of our
ridge. As it passed
overhead, I was amazed to
see a man crawling out on
each wing. As the plane
touched down, they rolled
off to the ground. I was
later told they both
survived, but were broken up
some.
(LATER)
While searching for the Nip
concentrations, "G" Co. 3rd
platoon was asked to take a
narrow but high ridge called
Hill 99. We had just
received a few new
replacements. One that I
remember in particular was
so eager. He said he had a
hard time getting the Army
to take him because of his
job and he had a young wife
and small kid. Then the
morning we started up Hill
99, he came to me with his
wallet in his hand and said,
"Rebel, I have a strong
premonition I am going to
get killed soon." This gave
me a sickening feeling
because he was the 5th man
to come to me with that
premonition. All had died
soon after. I tried to
convince him that was not so
since he had not even seen
any combat yet, and as a
forward scout, I was much
more apt to get hit than he
was, but that I had bought
me a round trip ticket
before I left home. Besides,
only the chaplain could send
or handle his personal
stuff. (I always wondered
why these men came to me
with those premonitions --
my life as a scout was rated
at 8 seconds once enemy
gunfire opened up.)
Later I had two more men
come to me with the same
feeling. All were killed
within two weeks of that
declaration!
About halfway up the
mountain, the officer in
charge asked me to drop back
and relieve the man carrying
a case of grenades. I always
traveled as light as
possible and was stronger
than most. About 600 yards
on up the trail, the
officer, anticipating an
ambush, had us swing off the
trail to the right while
going through some lantana
grass. A Nip appeared in
front with a white flag,
then suddenly fell forward
with a machine gun on his
back (an old trick). His man
behind him opened up about
100 rounds, killing my new
recruit instantly. The
officer called back for me,
but by the time I got up
there, the Nips had
disappeared.
We advanced more cautiously
to the top and called on the
4.2 mortar with phosphorous
shells to give us a few
rounds on coordinates. It
did not take the Nips long
to evacuate, especially when
the splatter from the
phosphorous burned through
and disabled most of their
machine guns. We used some
of their foxholes, making
all two-man holes and using
their machine guns that were
still workable, along with
ours. We had just got
settled in good, when way
off to our right an
artillery unit came in on
the radio and said, "I donut
know how strong you are, but
we just spotted about 5,000
Nips..advancing up the slope
toward the top." They said
"We can give you some
support till dark." They
did. (The left or east side
of our mountain was almost
straight up and down, so any
enemy attack had to come
from the south or west.)
Promptly after sundown, we
backed off down the mountain
about 1500 yards to a short
spur that ran off to the
east. That night we could
hear the Nips crawling and
jabbering all night, looking
for us (practically no
moon). At one point (I was
dug in a shallow hole on the
inside of the spur) I heard
two Nips close to me. They
jabbered a bit, then started
throwing rocks toward us.
The first rock hit my helmet
with a metallic clank. I
quickly took off my helmet
and put it under me. After
that, I was hit with several
more rocks but no more
clanks because I had my
helmet and gun beneath me.
The Nips stayed there about
15 minutes, jabbering some
more, and then finally left.
When morning came, we asked
for the rest of "G Co. and
returned to the top.
Strangely enough, the Nips
had left the top. The
artillery unit to our west
side sent over two observers
to direct their shell fire.
That night the Nips threw in
knee mortars and
anti-personnel bombs,
causing several casualties,
the two O.P. observers among
them. We received two more.
In a couple of days they had
to be replaced, along with
several more of our guys.
The next two O.P. observers
spotted a Nip sitting down
behind one giant pair of
binoculars on a bipod,
watching us from a hill to
the east of us. The hill was
almost as high as ours, and
according to them, over two
miles away. Some of our boys
fired several rounds, from a
50 caliber machine gun at
him but could not make him
move. Then one of our
replacements came in with my
original Ml that I had
mounted a scope on just
before the Markham Valley
jump. They sent for me to
see if I could do anything.
At about the same distance
to the Nip's right was a
straight up and down cliff
with a large white rock or
something about center ways.
I used this as a target to
zero in on, using blue-goose
ammo from an A-20 dive
bomber plane. Through the
scope and field glasses we
could see the bullets
explode where they hit.
Next I switched over to the
Nip. My first shot exploded
a little beyond him. He got
up, looked around, and when
my next bullet exploded in
front of him, he turned and
started trotting toward a
cave. At my next shot, his
helmet flew off his head and
he pitched forward on his
face. Two Nips came out of
the cave and dragged him in.
We never saw anybody else at
those huge field glasses
again.
While on that hill, we
stayed two men to the
foxhole. Within 16 days I
had three different men
killed in my foxhole. The
first man.... I was asleep
and the other occupant fell
on top of me and woke me up.
It was his turn to watch (it
rained almost every night).
He had insisted on
stretching a shelter half
overhead. I cautioned him to
be sure and take it down
before daybreak. I never was
able to locate that sniper.
The next replacement must
have just stood up, I guess,
but I had heard the rifle
report after the bullet
struck, and I located that
sniper in a tree branch
about 500 yards off. When I
shot, he dropped his rifle
and swung head down for the
rest of the day. He had tied
a rope around his waist.
These first two men were new
replacements and did not
know how to prop your head
up on your helmet to keep
water from getting in your
ears. You pulled a banana
leaf over your face and were
thankful for the rain
because it not only washed
your exposed clothes, but
also the smell.
The last man killed in that
foxhole was my B.A.R.
gunner. He was stationed in
the foxhole to my right and
asked to jump over and talk.
I told him just to keep down
low. What I didn't know was
that sometime during the
night some Nips had come
about midway of the clean
slope about 300 yards
directly in front of me.
When my B.A.R. man was
squatting on his heels
facing me, the bullet went
completely through his
helmet, splattering his
brains all over. The man
never fell, though; he just
stayed propped against the
side of the foxhole
breathing hard. A medic
yelled down to find out if I
needed help. I told him it
was too late -- just pass me
down some field glasses and
give me time to find that
sniper. Then I wrapped my
buddy up in my shelter half
I always carried (this would
prevent the flies from
getting to him right away).
I determined the angle of
the bullet but all I had was
1000 yards of open field out
in that direction. After a
few minutes of careful
scrutiny with the glasses, I
decided I could see the tops
of two rocks at about 300
yards. Just to the right of
a little weed I could see
something with my naked eye
that looked like the rock on
the right was a little bit
larger than the one on the
left. Next time it was vice
versa. I passed the glasses
to the foxhole on my left,
then on my right. They said
they could see no variation
of size. I made up my mind
that those rocks were
helmets so I had my machine
guns on each side of me line
up on the weed. First I
fired two anti-tank grenades
at the weed, but they were
both duds and neither shot
far enough. Then I took my
machete and sliced a "V" in
my parapet, took Kentucky
windage to the right of the
weed, and squeezed off a
round. One Nip raised up,
pitched forward on his face
and his rifle went off as he
fell. Two more Nips jumped
up and ran for the woods.
They never made it.
A day or two later someone
passed the word around for
Rod and me to go down the
south slope and check out
some big rocks. We were
losing 2 or 3 men every day
from some sniper in that
direction. Rod and I went
down checking out the big
rocks, some as big as a
large room. About 300 yards
down, we decided this was
not the ideal sniper's lair,
and started back up. Around
2/3 of the way up, I looked
up and saw Rod disappear
over the top. I made about
10 or 12 more steps when
suddenly I felt the hair on
the back of my neck rise up.
Instinctively I whirled and
moved to my right, looking
across a shallow ravine.
Right in the open there was
movement, a rifle barrel
sticking out from under a
camouflage net about 150
yards from me. I never gave
him time to get me back in
his scope. He pitched
forward on his face and his
rifle slid down the mountain
side. When I got back to the
top of my mountain, I told
the nearest foxhole to watch
that Nip with glasses and if
flies did not swarm in 10
minutes, do a little target
practicing. I heard no more
shots.
At the end or beginning of
the 16th day, the artillery
unit radioed us and said
they were low on shells and
could help us no more, so we
pulled back to the rest of
the 503rd. Evidently the
Japs overheard that message,
because as we started
evacuating they started up
our mountain in full
strength. I was to be the
last man and a certain medic
(I would say the bravest man
I ever knew) was to be the
next to last man. I have
seen this medic volunteer to
crawl out into no man's land
on several occasions, and
drag back the wounded when
personally I thought it was
plain suicide. He would not
wait for the area to be
secured -- he'd say that man
needed help NOW. As we were
waiting for everyone else to
evacuate, we could hear the
guttural commands of many
Nips coming closer and
closer. About 30 yards down
our side of the mountain
there was a narrow ridge
with a straight drop-off on
each side, but no cover or
concealment for nearly 20
yards. Everyone had to
cross. The Nips knew this
and hurriedly set up a
couple of machine guns below
in order to try to stop our
retreat.
Finally there was only this
medic and myself. I told him
to get up and make a run for
it. I said, "I'll follow as
soon as you get across, but
if I don't make it, don't
stop, because I can already
see the bush tops shaking as
the Nips are pulling
themselves up the slope." He
said, "Rebel, I'm froze -- I
can't move.' I said, "Man,
this ain't the time or place
to freeze." The Jap voices
were now so loud they were
about to drown my low voice
out. He still couldn't move.
I pulled and tried to drag
him, but there was not time
and I knew I couldn't cross
that opening dragging him.
In desperation I pulled my
knife and stuck him in the
buttocks quick. That did the
trick and he came up. He ran
the ridge and I could see
the machine gun was firing
behind him. As soon as the
firing stopped, I took off
in high gear. I heard the
popping of the bullets close
to me even louder than the
sound of the machine guns. I
felt a tug at my belt and my
left leg, and thought maybe
I was hit, but when I got
into cover I checked. My
canteen had a hole in it
(thank goodness that time it
was empty) and my left boot
string was shot in two along
with part of my boot tongue,
but no blood. We were some
few minutes catching up with
the rest of the company, but
finally did.
Not long afterward we joined
up with the rest of our
503rd. I always felt we paid
a high price for that 16
days on Hill 99.
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