HARRY DREWS SEES THE SIGHTS
OF CORREGIDOR ON A WOODEN
LEG
by Harry Drews
Since the 503's last great
reunion in St. Louis, when
the trip back to the
Philippines was finalized, I
knew that I would be on that
trip because I had to
revisit Corregidor.
Why?
Because on 24 February,
1945, an enemy soldier threw
a hand grenade at me and it
exploded between my feet.
Shrapnel cut the main artery
to my foot which slowly died
and necessitated my going
through two amputations of
the right leg. I had to
return to the Philippines
and, of course, Corregidor.
We left the Manila dock on
the morning of 15 February,
1979, and headed for Bataan.
In about one hour the faint
outline of Corregidor could
be seen. It was a thrill
just to see that famous
Island grow larger and
larger as we headed to
Mariveles. As we closed in
Malinta Hill could be
recognized. The Island
looked peaceful and quiet,
but it brought back many
memories and faces and names
of the men in Company D who
didn't make it back even on
one leg.
That evening we stayed in a
marvellous motel on Bataan
overlooking Corregidor. I
cannot exactly explain it,
but every now and then I had
to walk out on a balcony and
look at that Island which
was being shaken from top to
bottom 34 years ago in
preparation that led to its
recapture. That night I went
to bed but slept very little
thinking about the big event
of again walking on ground
which even angels 34 years
ago may well have dreaded
doing.
The next morning the
adrenalin was running high
as we departed from Bataan
and headed around the west
and south end of the Island.
As we passed Cheney Ravine I
can still see in my mind the
efficiency of a good
fighting team in clearing a
pill box of the enemy. Next
came a culvert, and even
though we in Company D gave
an unknown number of enemy
an opportunity to live, they
chose to die begging for
mercy after they made their
choice, but by that time it
was too late, So far we had
not lost a man in that day
of fighting. Cheney Ravine
was ours for that day.
A few days later we again
reviewed the ravine, but
where the ravine met the
ocean we cornered 21 enemy
in a shallow cave. Again the
enemy was given an
opportunity to save their
lives, but they chose
differently. Fighting the
enemy not more than four
feet away cannot but be
remembered. One also
remembers the losses we
suffered. The self
destruction our enemy
inflicted upon themselves
was difficult to believe - -
that ordinary foot soldiers
could be made to believe
suicide would help their
cause. It didn't.
As we rounded the Island a
bit more I began to try and
pick out the point top side
where Company D was
entrenched when the enemy
banzaid us one night. It was
a hot and humid night, but
still my teeth chattered in
fear of dying.
The next morning the members
of Company D who remained
reorganized and attacked
into the heart of the area.
We discovered so many dead
and wounded, our own and the
enemy, that I have never
felt so much hate for anyone
as I did for our enemy. From
that very moment on, as far
as I was concerned there
would be no quarter given
and no quarter asked.
On February 24, 1915, just
eight days after our landing
Company D, what was left of
it, went down Cheney Ravine
to the ocean, walked through
a mine field, and turned
left. This day we would
clear out the beach area
past Searchlight Point.
I remember the boulders, the
heat, the anxiety, the
uncertainty, the expectancy,
the flies, the dirt, and
best of all the confidence
and the great morale of our
Company.
It had been tough going and
the Lt. called for a break
for the stragglers to catch
up. I remember my order to
several scouts to head up
the knoll to observe front
and rear. The explosion of a
rifle shot on the knolls I
remember ordering a squad up
the knoll and I headed up
that knoll to help the two
men. One scout had shot an
enemy. I remember the
thought that where there is
one, there will be more. By
that time the second scout
and I found eight or nine
enemy lying in a trough. I
remember working my Thompson
sub-machine gun and then all
hell broke loose. We were
being fired on from the side
of Corregidor. I remember
passing the first enemy shot
three or four minutes prior.
Something told me to turn
around, and sure enough one
of the eight or nine enemy
who had just been shot was
standing up - - he wasn't
standing a second later, but
as I looked down, there was
that damned hand grenade.
The next thing I know is
that my right arm is
bleeding, my entire body was
unduly warm - - no pain,
just warm and I am shaking
my head trying to clear it.
I know something is wrong.
Some-how I walked away still
holding my weapon. My mind
and training said "don't
lose that weapon". I walked
about 12 or 15 feet and
dropped to the ground. I see
enemy dropping off the sides
of Corregidor. I'm still
being fired at and I can
feel the rock splinters
hitting me. About that time
I remember two members of
Company D running out to me
and dragging me behind a
boulder. I remember pulling
my trousers down with my
left hand. My right arm was
broken. I remember the
bubble of blood that made me
believe I had lost what is
so important to every man. I
really didn't mind dying,
but I didn't want to die
"that" way.
Now we head toward our
landing and reception near
Malinta Hill. I look up to a
point on Corregidor's top
side when I and several
other members of Company D
spent the first night where
I watched the last 503d
Battalion landing by landing
craft. All of a sudden the
enemy opened up 50 yards
ahead of me with a heavy
automatic weapon. I remember
watching a small destroyer
escort sail in between the
landing craft and the enemy
firing at our people;
lowering the dual 3-inch
guns and firing point blank
into the enemy's position. I
remember the enemy screaming
in pain, and I remember
feeling no pity.
Now I am again on Corregidor
- - this time in a happy and
friendly mood. I am with
friends who no doubt have
many of the same memories.
After the "Welcome Back"
ceremonies, we all are taken
top side and now I am
standing in awe of the 503d
Memorial mock up. It is
beautiful. It is just what I
visualized and it is
something that every member
of the "Rock Force" can be
proud of. It is a memorial
that will stand for
milleniums to remind all
peoples that tyranny must
pay a high price and that
truth, freedom and democracy
will prevail. It will stand
to remind the many visitors
to Corregidor for years to
come that the 503d was here
and conquered.
Travelling around Corregidor
one notices that all
man-made objects that were
on the Island prior to the
start of World War II will
bear the scars of battle
forever. However, nature has
taken care of the scars
inflicted on the natural
surroundings, as if God is
telling humanity to never
desecrate the Island again,
as it belongs to the men and
women who gave so much to
defend and recapture it.
No one can ever forget the
members of Company D who ran
back and forth between the
columns of concrete and
having an enemy sniper take
a shot at them, so the rest
of us could try to pick out
the sniper. I believe we
finally drove that enemy
soldier to the point of
frustration because he
finally came out of his
hiding place (having not hit
a single man) and tried to
throw a grenade at our
Company D man who went out
to bring the sniper in as a
prisoner. The hand grenade
was never thrown and the
sniper never survived.
There are more memories to
be told, some unfit to be
recorded for history. These
memories of Corregidor,
Mindoro, Leyte, Noemfoor,
Negros are always brought
home every time I take an
airplane trip and go through
security. Yep, the many
pieces of shrapnel still
imbedded in my arm and leg
are of sufficient size and
quantity to cause security
guards to check me
thoroughly. I have stopped
telling them why the bells
ring and the buzzers buzz.
These are my memories.
Harry Drews
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