"Nothing has happened of any importance since the cere­mony. The greatest thing was an issue of 5 cans of beer per man yesterday. Small patrols have been going out and get a few Nips killed. Two or three boys have been injured while out souvenir hunting. On the morning of the 6th, a reg't detail is going over to Bataan to dedicate the cemetery. The flies are thicker than ever- no more spraying by planes. We're still on 10 in 1 rations- the water supply is good. We leave the island on the 8th The co has already submitted shipping rosters." We riflemen damn sure got no beer!!!

"5 Mar. 45 Co. on perimeter----No enemy activity. One squad went to Memorial Services for 503rd personnel on Bataan.

No patrolling today.

Co. broke camp at 0730 and moved via truck to South Dock. Co. Boarded LCI 545 at 1500 and sailed at 1700.

March Company loaded on LCI (L) 645.

Company boarded LCL (sic) hoisted anchor & were under way at 1700 & left Rock in the distance.

The number of trucks to transport the RCT was limited. The 1st and 2nd Battalions were on Topside along with the artillery, Regimental Headquarters and Service Companies, and others. Note the early hour of 2nd Battalion Headquarters and Headquarters Company, then D Company followed at 0730. I don't believe F company left Topside until after noon. I do remember we rode down. I remember we were very interested in seeing Bottomside, because we had not been there. We had lined the road at Middleside to guard MacArthur's route to Topside. I know we went over to the North Dock area, then to the Officers Beach where we looked some suicide boats over. Then we looked at the East Entrance to Malinta Tunnel. I remember there were many rusty 03 Springfield barrels and parts along with splintered stocks which our troops had destroyed before surrendering. As I remember-all too soon it was time to load and shove off at 1700 hour.

Evidently during this time the LCI's were moving in, loading and sailing out into the North Channel. As I remember only one or two other LCI's were loading as we loaded, so this must have been staggered.

The thing which drew our great interest, though, while we were looking around was the Japanese "Shinyo" (suicide) boats. Some of these boats had attacked our fleet when it moved in on Corregidor before the assault. An LCM gunboat had been sunk. Had a amphibious assault been the sole attack, these boats would have played a larger part most likely. The boats I saw had old Buick automobile motors powering them. Before the war, people in the United States well well aware that the Japs were buying old cars from junk yards across the entire country. I remember hearing some old, wise heads saying that we'd be getting that steel fired back at us someday. But this is like Demosthenes futile efforts to rouse the Athenian's... no arms- just live for the day, or as Neville Chamberlain said, "Peace in our time."

The boats demonstrate the type of people we were fighting. There was no way the operator could escape death.

The explosives were stored in front of the boats. A sheet of galvanized steel curved around the inside of the bow. About six inches inside this sheet was another galvanized sheet, nails were driven through the outer sheet with their sharp ends pointed toward the inner parallel sheet. A battery was wire to the sheets so that if contact was made between the two sheet the electric circuit was completed detonating the explosive. Thus any crushing of the bow of the boat by as much as six inches set off the large explosive charge. National archives photo number 111-SC-263697 shows three of these "Shinyo" boats at Officers Beach.

In spite of poor intelligence and the resulting mismanagement, the airborne landing was a brilliant success. This was a classic example of using the parachute assault to its maximum effectiveness. The superior training, aggressiveness, and toughness of the troopers overcame the errors and mistakes. For the most part we were happy, and relived, to be leaving this dusty mass of wreckage where death lurked at every turn. Possibly just as great an emotion was intense pride; we had retaken our great fortress marking this event forever as the high water mark of our lives, or at the least ranking with the high water marks. Memories were indelibly burned in our minds for so long as we shall live. Yet not all was joy. We were leaving behind some forty-nine battalion brothers who would never grow old. Even after forty-five years the grief is still there. Another thought which survives the years is the haunting question, why them and not me?

At 1700 hour the LCI's began their departure. The little ships (they were bigger than boats) formed a long line of single file and set a course for Mindoro. Even though there were fewer ships than would have been required to transport the RCT, our ships were not crowded as they usually were with a full compliment of soldiers, an Infantry com­pany. Corregidor gradually faded in the distance - from sight- from our minds, nevermore.

The winds rose with the coming of dark, and the seas became wild. The LCI's seemed to stand on one end and then the other. To doze meant to be thrown out of your bunk onto the unyielding steel deck. Most of us tried various means of tying ourselves onto the bunks with out web equipment.

At dawn most of us were up inspecting our surroundings. Some were hanging onto the railings, heads over the side desperately trying to throw up when there was nothing left to throw up. The galley was particularly noisy. The galley was manned by one cook who prepared meals for the crew. The passengers had to bring their own field rations aboard. In this instance the ship's cook seemed to be the sickest of all, hanging on the chains at the fantail. I don't think he really cared if he hung on or not- a fall into the deep might bring on the peace of Davy Jones's Locker and e