On the bright, breezy afternoon of March 2 the colors were run up
in an official flag-raising ceremony on the same staff from which the Japs had
dragged them down three years before. It was a picturesque spectacle. (Above) The
rooftops and balconies of the battered buildings all around the parade ground,
were crowded with soldiers who had taken part in the combat and who were
enjoying the heroic occasion. A particular friend of mine, named Pete, had
insisted that we scramble to our vantage point on the top of the old barracks,
from which we had so often in the last eventful days looked out on the progress
of the various patrols and ships and planes. A wry fellow was this Pete, deeply
emotional at heart, but always masking his feelings with a salty curtness. Even
on occasions such as this he was not one to let sentiment run away with him.
After the Stars and Stripes had rolled out in full glory from the peak of the
staff, I felt my nerves tingling, but beside me Pete dropped his salute and
commented, "Well that ends the story of Corregidor, the true story. From now on
it's a legend and belongs to the scenario writers. They'll make comic-strip
heroes out of the real men who fought here. I'm glad we saw our part. They can
have theirs."
(Note the
Piper L-4 aircraft which were able to use the parade ground,
now cleared, as a landing field.)