The column turned onto a road leading to the right, and downward, toward the south shore of Corregidor. Looking ahead, I saw a wide expanse of concrete down near the beach. On the far end, (east) I saw the  two large hangers. They were taking us down to the 92nd Garage area! I had gone full circle! I was going back to the very place where I had received my training! It struck me as almost ludicrous! I could make out men moving around on the wide concrete area, small groups already forming.

The column turned onto a road leading to the right, and downward, toward the south shore of Corregidor. Looking ahead, I saw a wide expanse of concrete down near the beach. On the far end, (east) I saw the  two large hangers. They were taking us down to the 92nd Garage area! I had gone full circle! I was going back to the very place where I had received my training! It struck me as almost ludicrous! I could make out men moving around on the wide concrete area, small groups already forming.

Soon we arrived at the old seaplane base and the column began to break up, men wandering off in various directions. I wandered aimlessly across the very concrete that I had, a year before, labored through recruit training, naive, and much younger.

I looked for a familiar face, anyone I could share this horrible experience with, anyone that I had something in common with!

I heard a voice calling “Hey, Atch” and I searched for the source. It was my friend Spence Bever! A warm feeling welled up inside me, and somehow a heavy load fell from my shoulders. I had someone to share this burden with! I was so happy that I hugged him. He was the closest friend I ever had. I felt we were closer than brothers. There was so much to talk about we hardly knew where to begin.

He told me the heavy shelling near the end had driven his crew from one hole to another. His searchlight position had been destroyed some time before the landing and he and some of his crew had moved from crater to crater, seeking any kind of cover that offered shelter from the artillery. They had lost contact with all of the Command level of their battery, they had zero orders to report to another authority for duty.

Spence related how he and three others had stumbled onto a 4th Marine beach defense position and asked the Marines if they could join them at their position. They received a positive answer and moved into a machine gun pit. Spence said he and his battery mates did have some canned food that they were willing to share with the beach defenders. He said their welcome was overwhelming! Food of course, was something very hard to come by, and the Marines on beach defense were at the bottom of the totem pole! These men could not leave their positions, therefore many of them had little, or no food. Spence told me that one of his friends from “A” Battery had left the beach defense position during the second night hoping to find other members from his battery. He failed to return, and the others feared he had been killed or injured by shelling or bombing. Spence and his friends had remained with the Marines until the surrender.

Spence told me he had a place laid out with two other fellows that came over on the Republic with us. I grabbed my knapsack and my blanket and followed him across the concrete. More of the men were gathering in clusters, and aisles were beginning to form down through the groups. Things were already becoming organized as more of the men found friends and small groups became larger groups. It was truly amazing how resourceful the Americans were. 

Spence walked up to some blankets laid out on the ground and protected from the sun by two shelter halves buttoned together and supported by several poles shored up by large chunks of broken concrete apparently carried from the outer edge of the concrete slab. A fellow clad in shorts was stretched out on one of the blankets, his head resting on another blanket folded into a pad. I recognized him immediately and we broke into a conversation about the present situation. Spence suggested that we spread my blanket out before the open area began to shrink. Shortly we had a ‘bed’ spread out for me. The other two had proceeded to move the other beds in such a way as to allow my bed to creep under the shelter halves.

I learned water was non existent here, and this was certainly going to present a major problem for the prisoners. The next difficulty would be food. We took an inventory of our stores and found that Spence’s canteen was three-quarters full, Bill McCann’s was half full, the other man had almost a half a canteen and mine contained a little over a half. If we rationed water and controlled it, we could make it for a short while. As for food, we were less fortunate. Two cans of corn beef hash and one can of meat and beans. I felt fortunate that I had grabbed the meat and beans as I left the Ramsey area. Spence had nothing, and the other “A” Battery man had only a small box of hard biscuits. Perhaps the Japs would kick in with something, McCann mumbled. The other man snorted, “little chance!”

The second and third day dragged by with more American soldiers, sailors and marines filing into the now already congested area known as the 92nd Garage. Probably men from the extreme western end of the island posted for beach defense, and others rousted from various tunnels located throughout the island. A man belonging to an adjacent group told us he heard the Japs were bringing in men from Fort Hughes, but he hadn’t heard how many. The sun was hot and our water was nearly gone.

Spence Bever turned to me. “Atch, we gotta find something to eat! These Japs aren’t going to feed us, and guys are gonna start dying. Some of these people were hungry when we got down here and they’re not going to make it.

A short time later, Spence suggests we walk around and see if we can find any of our battery mates. We found the entire concreted area of the old seaplane base was now heavily populated with the recent defenders of the island. It was rather a marvel that this vast conglomeration of men had arranged themselves in such a way as to allow passage in almost any direction. There appeared to be two “paths” from the eastern side, near the hangers, completely through the compressed mass of small groupings, to the western side that butted into the hill adjacent to the area. Close to the beach, a narrow strip of land jutted westward until it tapered down to nothing. Herb Mitchel, also a member of “H” Battery, told me after the war that he and some others from our Battery had staked a claim in this narrow appendage, and had almost been driven out when the heavy rains deluged the island. Apparently the runoff from the steep hill had washed mud down onto the flat area where they had pitched their camp. Many of the groups had spilled over into this area which was sometimes rough and somewhat rocky. Much of the area was covered with anything and everything imaginable that could serve as protection from the sun. One could observe shelter halves, and blankets, odd shaped pieces of canvas, and lengths of corrugated sheet metal, hung up, and propped up in any manner that would allow living space beneath the protective covering.

On the northern perimeter of area, as the slope began, the slab of concrete ended. The slope was gentle at first, then began to rise much steeper. We now stood near the edge of the makeshift village of tents and lean-to’s.

“You know what”, Spence says, “They don’t seem to have any guards along the hill here that leads up to the road! You know, “D” Battery is right up there, and we might find something to eat.”

I casually mentioned that we might get shot, too. He repeated that no guards were in evidence, and we better take advantage of it while we have a chance.

“After all”, he says, “if we don’t get something to eat, we’re gonna starve. That takes longer, but you’re just as dead!”

Needless to say, he finally convinced me that we should give it a try. I was doing this against my will, but I said “what the hell, I’m so hungry that I’m getting weak.” Spence suggested that we kind of wander along as though we were taking a stroll, just go very slow, don’t arouse any suspicion. We managed to work our way higher on the hill, moving a little eastward, and a little upward as we moved away from the congestion below. When we reached the road above 92nd Garage, I realized that no shots had rang out, but we were hardly out of the woods, or should I say we weren’t in the woods yet. The two of us continued along until we were able to get off the road, and into some vegetation. We drifted into the area just left of the tall water tank. We circled around the east side of the water tank and headed along the ridge past the second water tank, then worked our way through jumbled powder cans and into Denver’s position. Denver had been hit hard, and for a very long time! The 3” gun positions were a disaster! I came to the realization that I probably wouldn’t be standing here if I had remained in “D” Battery! Denver had, without a doubt lost many of its personnel. I nearly fell into a pit that had timbers covering it, and dirt piled onto the timbers. It was rectangular, perhaps three and a half feet wide, and six feet long. We pulled some of the wood from the pit and found it was four or five feet deep. At one end we could see the front of a metal cabinet with one door hanging open. To the left of the cabinet the shiny top of a large can glinted in the sun.

“Help me pull these boards out” I said, “and I’ll try to get down in there and look.”  He held onto my right hand and let me down into the pit where I was able to hand more of the boards out to him. Once I had cleared most of the debris from the bottom I could move around, that’s when I realized that the “shiny object” was a large can of “Something” that was minus the label. I proceeded to find two more of the cans, also without labels, and I handed them all up to Spence who was laying on the ground with his head and shoulders hanging over the edge.

Shoved back into the corner of the pit, partially covered with dirt, was a large, square metal can, also without a label. It was the approximate size of a five gallon can, and once I had brushed the dirt from the top and one side of the can, I managed to dislodge it from all of the dirt that had fallen from above.

“Maybe it’s syrup or something,” Spence opined.

“Nope”, I said, “It just isn’t heavy enough for syrup or liquid.” Now he wants to know if I can pick it up, and I showed my strength by hoisting the can up to him.

“See what’s in the cabinet”, he says, and I got to my knees and pulled on the door that was closed. After some intense labor, I managed to force the door open. There was nothing on the small shelves but some paper and several small notebooks. I stuffed two or three of the notebooks under my belt and prepared to exit the dusty pit.

“See if there’s anything else!” Spence said. There was nothing else to be found, so he gave me a hand and I clambered up to the surface. At my friend’s urging, we proceeded to look around for food. Spence wandered down the west side of the ridge, and when he was several yards below me he waved for me to come down.

He was standing next to a small depression and he pointed at a case lying in the depression. It was similar to a valise, but had rounded, metal corners and a strange looking hasp. Several small, dark brown bottles lay out side the case, and when Spence opened the lid, many small compartments filled the case, some of them containing more of the brown bottles.

“Hey,” he said, “there’s Jap writing on these bottles! It must be medicine!” I questioned his ability to read Jap writing.

“Now wait a minute!” he says, “what about all the doctors? Some of them can surely tell what’s in these bottles!” I ventured that if they had access to a chemical lab they might, but to just take a guess? Undaunted, he proceeded to stuff some of the bottles into his fatigue blouse and we returned to our booty, the cans.

“How do you reckon we’re gonna get these back to the camp?” I asked. 

That triggered Robinson Crusoe Bever into action! He began searching throughout the area like a man possessed. Soon he appeared carrying a stretcher!

“Now just what are you going to do with that thing?” I wanted to know.

“Why,” he says, “we’re just gonna put all this stuff right on this stretcher, and we’re gonna carry it right back to our campground!”

I asked him just what the hell were we going to do if we ran into a bunch of Japs? Now he patiently explains to me that he’s been thinking about just that, and he’s developed a devilish plan to outwit those cunning orientals!

“The plan”, my daring friend says, “is this. Now I noticed all these Japs are always saluting each other. Boy, do they salute a lot, and if we’re unfortunate to meet some of those sneaky devils, we’re gonna put this stretcher right down, grin wildly at them, and give them a big salute!” I suggested that he had finally gone off the deep end.

“They’re going to string us up, that’s what they’re going to do!”

“Maybe we won’t meet any, and that problem will go away”, he says.

“I think we better get going”, I said, “ we’re going to fool around and get caught with this loot and get strung up, that’s what were going to do, you loonie!”

Spence pointed to a shabby looking piece of canvas draped over one of the rusty powder cans and we tried to arrange the canvas over the stretcher to cover the cans, and I finally got him and his big toothy grin moving. We picked up the stretcher and followed the same path out of the “D” Battery area, past the water tanks, and we began to search for a  good place to cross the road  and get started down the hill. Unfortunately, we found that we would have to move down the road until a likely spot presented itself that would allow us to move down off the road. I was so intent on finding a place to get off the road that I failed to discover a Jap column approaching from the west!

“Uh-oh!” Spence said under his breath.

“Whataya mean, uh-oh?”

“Japs coming,” he mumbled, “when they get close to us, set this thing down, start grinning and saluting!”

They were in a column of two’s, and one, probably a sergeant or corporal, marched along at the head of the column. He was looking directly at us. I thought to myself, “I think my life is very short right now!” We quickly put the stretcher down, went into a military hand salute....and flashed big smiles! The head guy saluted back....and grinned at us! And the Japs marched right on by us! I was so shaken, I could hardly stand up.

“God help us! Let’s get out of here!” I gasped, and away we went! We certainly descended the hill down to the seaplane base in a far more active manner than we had climbed it! But we did reach the concrete slab without being hailed and we wended our way through the mass of men and shelters back to our own little house! When we sat the stretcher down, we were both covered with perspiration.

“Where the hell you guys been?” McCann said.

“Uh, I think we been to hell and back!” I mumbled. Our other friend that shared our hotel bent and pulled the old canvas tarp from the stretcher and revealed the three large No.10 cans, and the square five gallon can, all sans labels.

“What have we got here?” he said softly. We had the laid the five gallon can down on its side, but the three big cans of food sat staring at everyone. McCann materialized a small finger type can opener and looked up at Spence and I, “Shall I?”  

We both nodded and Bill McCann placed the small opener on the lip of the first can with a quick turn to the right the little curved claw sank into the top of the can! My first foreboding of despair struck when something very red oozed from the hole in the punctured can! Surely it wasn’t catsup! No, it was far worse than that! It was stewed tomatoes!

“Oh-no!” I groaned, “It’s cooked tomatoes!”

By this time of course, all of the neighbouring groups of men were gathered around.

Everyone seemed very happy but me! Tomatoes! Yuk!  I was out of it! Oh, why couldn’t it have been peas, or beans, oh how I hate tomatoes!

Each of my tent mates brought forth their canteen cups, or substitutes thereof, and with their G.I. spoons, each ladled out a helping of the awful looking tomatoes and juice. I tried to drink some of the juice, and did manage to get some down. Spence suggested that we open another of the cans and perhaps find something wholesome for me, and I was ,of course, thinking the same thing! I am sorry to say, that each of the cans contained more tomatoes!

“Well” I ventured, “at least you guys have something to eat!” A fellow from the next group, a 4th Marine, offered to trade me some hard biscuits for some of the tomatoes. Spence pitched in and made the deal, and soon I was chipping away on one of the biscuits, relishing every tasteless bite that I could manage to break off.

We decided to open the five gallon can.

“It’s probably flour, or something like that” McCann mumbled as Spence carefully pried the lid from the can. The lid flipped out of the opening and we hit pay dirt! Ground coffee!

“Yea great”, Spence muttered, “all we need is some water and we could indulge in a good cup of coffee.”

Our other tenant brightened up.

“Hey, while you guys were gone the word came around that there’s a spring just up the hill! There’s already guys lined up with canteens, and a buddy of mine got in line with his and my water bottle!”  Well, that was good news!  I knew if we didn’t get water soon we would be in real trouble.

Added to that, another wretched problem materialized! Flies! Millions of flies infested the area. The heat generated perspiration, and the smell of death hovering over the island brought flies! There were clouds of the black, biting flies throughout the compound. And the huge green “blue bottle flies” crawled over everyone, and these I truly hated! I would see many more before I would leave the Philippines.

One of the men living in the next lean-to wandered over to talk. He related to us his experiences the previous day. He had been selected for a work detail, and this had developed into the grisly process of picking up the American dead and attempting to bury them in shallow graves dug, or hacked into the rocky terrain of the island. He told us that it was truly the most horrible task that he had every experienced! He gave us some clues on what to watch for when another of the selection committees began a sweep through the compound. We decided to post a lookout to scan for any such committee nearing our area. Fortunately, none of us would be caught in the sweep for a burying detail. I heard later that there was also a burying detail selected to pick up Jap bodies, but this group carried the dead Japs to selected areas and piled them up. A hand was cut from each Jap before they were burned. Later, ashes from the hands were returned to the families in Japan. I did not witness this, but heard it from men who claimed they took part in this work detail.

The next morning it was my turn to stand in line, or sit in line, with about five canteens. I found that progress in this water line was non-existent! Fortunately, some of the officers became involved, at least part of the time, and there was some order retained. When I got to towards the head of the line, I could see the spring.  It was not even a faucet! It was a square pipe, cut close to the ground. A guy had a small can with no label on it that had three holes punched just below the rim with a wire in each hole. The water was below the rim of the pipe and he would dip the small can down and fill it, then pour  the precious result into your canteen. The output from the spring was very low, but it was something! The system developed that each group of men could have one of its members maintain a place in the line, and each member of the group would stand his “watch” for one, two or three hours, whatever that group agreed upon. This system worked to keep the fights and squabbles to a minimum. If one can imagine, one small source of water for twelve to fourteen thousand men crammed into this incredibly small area! The line for water continued around the clock! Anytime during the day or night, you could walk out of your lean-to and see the endless line, waiting, seldom moving, just waiting. The clank of the aluminum canteens was always audible. Looking back, I almost cannot believe that we survived this period of time at 92nd Garage!

CHAPTER 12

Preface | Frontispiece | The Road to Adventure | Angel Island | Across the Pacific | Corregidor April 22, 1941 | Duty Assignment | Battery Hartford | To The Field | War | Surrendered!| 92nd Garage | The Spoils | Goodbye Corregidor | Bilibid | Cabanatuan Camp III | Pasay School | Nichols Field | Feet on Fire | Survival | Goodbye Pasay | Noto Maru | Moji Japan to Omori | Kawasaki, Nishin Flour Mill | Air Raid | Fire Bombs! | Out of Kawasaki | Suwa in the Mountains | The War is Over | The Yanks and Tanks | In The Air To Where? | Luzon? Again! 29th Replacement | Gray Cruise Ship to Home | Madigan General Hospital, Seattle | Last Leg to Home | Fletcher General Hospital, Cambridge Ohio |

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