SEARCHLIGHT ON CORREGIDOR

 

To the Japanese the situation on Corregidor seemed desperate. They were still some distance from Malinta Hill, which was to have been occupied by dawn. Without control of this hill, the landing of the 4th Division's right wing, scheduled for 2330 of the 6th, would be a risky undertaking. The problem was discussed at 4th Division headquarters early that morning and some members of the staff argued strongly for a one-day postponement of the attack scheduled for that night. The proposal was seriously considered but final decision deferred, pending the outcome of the day's action. Nothing more was done than to urge "the left flank unit to keep on attacking."

The Japanese were worried, too, about their supply of ammunition, which was dangerously low. The amount originally allotted for the assault was adequate but the small boats which were to have brought ammunition ashore after the landings were in such haste to get out of range of American fire that they "threw the ammunition into the nearby waters and returned to Bataan." By 1100, it was estimated, the Japanese on shore would have been out of ammunition. "When I recall all this," wrote Colonel Yoshida, "I cannot but break into a cold sweat."

Back at 14th Army headquarters on Bataan, General Homma spent a sleepless night waiting for the news that Malinta Hill had been taken. Repeatedly he sent his aide to 4th Division headquarters to ask about the progress of operations on Corregidor and "every time I was disappointed." Even division headquarters had no clear picture of the situation "because the lines of the hostile troops got mixed up." With the 2,000 men he believed had been put ashore facing a force estimated at 14,000 men, there was a real danger, Homma felt, that his troops might be driven back into the sea. "I had plenty of troops on this side of the sea," he explained later. "[But] I could not send reinforcements with the 21 boats which were left." The news that the Americans were counterattacking, therefore, threw him into a panic. "My God," he exclaimed, "I have failed miserably on the assault."

Homma need not have been so concerned. Actually, the assault had not failed and the counterattackers had already run into serious trouble. Small detachments of Japanese had infiltrated the left of the American line and were firing at the rear of the advancing troops. The Japanese had also set up their light artillery and were now using it with devastating effect against the American troops on the line. Finally, at 0800 Colonel Howard had decided to commit the last of his reserves, Captain Hauck and the sixty men of the 59th Coast Artillery. By this time the counterattack, though netting the Americans about 300 yards in some sectors, had bogged down for lack of supporting weapons and reinforcements.

The final blow came shortly before 1000 when the Japanese sent the three tanks they had brought ashore into action. The tanks advanced to the ridge line and, according to Colonel Yoshida, "annihilated the powerful enemy in the vicinity." "This action," he went on to explain, "not only made it possible for the two battalions to establish liaison with each other but also caused the enemy commander to ... report this fact to the United States." Though this sweeping claim for the tanks is not borne out by the facts, it is true that the first appearance of armor on the front panicked the troops and caused some to bolt to the rear. It took the combined efforts of commissioned and noncommissioned officers to calm the troops and prevent a rout. "The effect of the tanks," concluded the Japanese, "was more than had been anticipated."

By 1000 the situation of the Americans was critical. The troops on the front line were pinned down securely. Attempts to move forward were discouraged by the enemy's heavy machine guns and light artillery; movement to the rear only brought the men under fire from the heavier guns on Bataan and strafing aircraft. The tanks were in action and there were no weapons with which to stop them. Casualties had been heavy and the wounded men were still in the line. There were no litter bearers, and if there had been, the injured could not have been evacuated. The walking wounded were allowed to go to the rear, but most of those who availed themselves of this opportunity became "litter or Graves Registration cases."27 Already between 600 and 800 men had been killed and about 1,000 more wounded. To continue the fight when there was no hope of being able to hold out longer than a few more hours would be a needless sacrifice of lives.

Perhaps the deciding factor in the decision to lay down arms was the fear of what might happen that night. It was apparent from the artillery fire on James and Cheney Ravines, where only two companies were posted, that a landing would soon be made there. All reserves had been committed and practically all guns had been destroyed. Even if the Japanese did not make another landing it was virtually certain that the enemy on the east end of the island would reach the tunnel, with its 1,000 wounded men, in a few hours. The result would be wholesale slaughter.

On the basis of this estimate of the situation, General Wainwright at 1000 decided to surrender, to sacrifice one day of freedom in exchange for several thousand lives. Like General King, who had surrendered Bataan four weeks earlier, Wainwright had made his estimate and concluded there was nothing to be gained by further resistance.

 

 

 

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