"VOICE OF FREEDOM" broadcasts to the men on Bataan.

Disillusionment came hard. The weeks went by, January gave way to February, and still no large reinforcements had come. Many men began to doubt that aid would arrive at all. Only a few men had definite knowledge of what was on the way and they confided in no one. When Colonel Mallon�e jokingly asked Colonel Brezina about the relief expedition, Brezina's "eyes went poker-blank" and "his teeth bit his lips into a grim thin line." Most regular officers had made their own estimate of the situation and had reached the conclusion that time was against them. They could see their men growing weaker every day, the hospitals fuller, and the supplies smaller. But they continued to hope for the relief expedition, the TNT (Terrible 'N' Terrific) force, which would arrive in storybook fashion before the end.

These hopes received a rude blow on Washington's Birthday, 22 February, in President Roosevelt's fireside chat on the progress of the war. Inviting his listeners to look at their maps, the President emphasized the global nature of the struggle, the vast distances to be spanned, the large areas to be held, and the desperate situation of the United Nations. As he spoke of the tremendous tasks facing the American people and the sacrifices that must be made, it became clear to his listeners on Bataan that he was placing the Philippines in their proper perspective "in the big picture of the war." No prospect of the arrival of relief could be found in the President's message. One officer wrote in his diary that though "the President means to cheer us up," his talk "tends to weaken morale." "We are not interested in what the production will be in 1943-44 and 1945," he said.

"All we want are two things, but we need them right now." Others took a more pessimistic view. "Plain for all to see," wrote Colonel Mallon�e, "was the handwriting on the wall, at the end of which the President had placed a large and emphatic period. The President had-with regret- wiped us off the page and closed the book."

Despite the explanations of the "Voice of Freedom," MacArthur's departure for Australia on 12 March struck another blow at morale. A large part of the faith in the timely arrival of reinforcements had been based on the presence of General MacArthur. His prestige among the Filipinos can hardly be exaggerated. Among American officers, to many of whom he was already a legend, his reputation placed him on a lofty eminence with the great captains of history. Mallon�e undoubtedly expressed the feelings of many when he affirmed his belief that MacArthur "would reach down and pull the rabbit out of the hat." With MacArthur gone, those who refused to give up hope argued that if anybody could bring supplies to the Philippines it was MacArthur. His presence in Australia, they declared, was the best guarantee that help was coming. As proof they could repeat the assertions broadcast so often over the "Voice of Freedom," or cite MacArthur's first public statement on reaching Australia. At that time he had said that the relief of the Philippines was his primary purpose. "I came through and I shall return," he had pledged.

There were others, however, including the old-timers of World War I, who reasoned that the best place from which to direct the organization of the relief expedition was Corregidor. MacArthur's departure, they asserted, was proof that the promised reinforcements would never arrive.

When, by the end of March, no rabbits had been pulled out of the hat, most Americans realized that the end was near. There was nothing left but to wait for the inevitable defeat and prison camp, or death. The Filipino could expect ultimately to be returned to his home. For the American there was no such bright prospect. Death or capture was his certain fate. Strangely enough, he did not become despondent or bitter. He knew the worst now and there was little he could do other than to make the enemy pay dearly for victory. Meanwhile he made the best of his bad fortune, joked grimly about his fate, and hid his feelings under a cloak of irony.¹⁰⁵ It was in this vein that Lt. Henry G. Lee of the Philippine Division wrote the poem, "Fighting On."

I see no gleam of victory alluring
No chance of splendid booty or of gain
If I endure-I must go on enduring
And my reward for bearing pain-is pain
Yet, though the thrill, the zest, the hope are gone
Something within me keeps me fighting on.