CHAPTER 15

 

CABANATUAN CAMP III

28 May 1942

 

The faces around me reflected despair, weariness, eyes saddened with the loss of close friends. My thoughts rolled back through the past two weeks, seeing the shadowy cells of Bilibid, the long march through the streets of Manila, jumping from the ramp of the landing barge into the water of Manila Bay, water deeper than we expected, closing over some heads. We had been loaded on light Jap boats from the South Dock at Corregidor. The small craft, crammed with Americans, slowly moved away from the dock and proceeded to steer for three large ships anchored in San Jose Bay

As we plodded out onto the South Dock, I recall looking back at the long straggly lines of American prisoners of war, soldiers, sailors and Marines, carrying their meager possessions guardedly. They were dirty, and hungry, most bearded, but many too young for anything but fuzz on their smooth faces. The struggling figures stretched unevenly, from the south dock, to the south shore road that followed the bulging contour of Malinta Hill.

They continued thru clouds of dust along the pock‑marked road that led along the southern periphery of Malinta Hill. Just east of Malinta Hill a small road  wound its way down to the 92nd Garage area  from the main road that continued on toward Battery Denver and Kindley  Field. The 92nd Garage area was disgorging lines of men endlessly as the numerous clusters reluctantly melted into the stream emanating from the main body.

The fall of Bataan, Corregidor, Ft. Drum, Ft. Hughes and Ft. Frank and the destruction of these familiar places was for some, too much to comprehend, too difficult for minds already numbed from shelling, bombing, hunger and now helplessness. Youth would be our salvation. Already there  was talk of candy stores and ice cream and how we would eat steaks when the Yanks & Tanks roared in to free us. The most pessimistic agreed that six months would see us back in the states! Little did we know.......

We learned this camp was very large and extensive, and the occupants already here were probably Americans captured on Bataan. These men were in very poor condition, gaunt, and weakened from months of fighting without food and rest. We soon became acquainted with many of these men, and the story of their hardships began to unfold. The incredible march from the southern tip of the Bataan Peninsula over dusty roads, many days without water and food.

After a few days we began to relax and fall into the daily routine of this large prison camp. The framework of the barracks was constructed of bamboo, and the covering was nipa. The floor of the barracks was about three feet above the ground. The sides of the buildings had nipa from the floor level up approximately three feet to the windows. The windows were covered with hinged, nipa covered frames that could be raised and propped into an open position to permit the passage of fresh air.

We later learned this camp, and the other two passed by our column were formerly used for training sites for the Philippine Army that was hastily mobilized just before the war. The floors in the barracks were constructed of bamboo, held together with strips of split bamboo, and since most of the prisoners lacked bedding, sleeping on the bamboo proved very uncomfortable.

Several more large groups of American prisoners arrived at the  camp, and it became obvious most of the captives from Bataan and Corregidor would be incarcerated in large, dusty enclosures such as this one. It was unpleasant to think we would be held here until the Yanks freed us from the Japs. An American Officer guessed our number totaled nearly six thousand, and possibly more. Our chief concern was food and water. Would the Japs supply us with enough to survive?

Throughout the camp, work details began to dig deep pits to be used for latrines. More cooking facilities were added. Trucks arrived loaded with large bags of rice. I would hear numerous individuals declare we would be short lived with only a diet of rice. I was shocked to learn later that one of the men from “H” Battery would waste away rapidly and die because he refused to eat rice! Since he worked on the height finder, I knew him well, and remembered him as a large, husky man, with a thatch of white hair that seemed to stick out in all directions.

I was determined to consume any, and all rice placed before me! I felt strongly we could endure the rice for a short time until the Yanks extracted us from this mess!

The proliferation of huge green flies was incredible! The southern boys referred to them as “blue-bottle flies”. Of course, the open pits of raw sewage drew the flies in clouds. Everything was covered with them. We were forced to eat with one hand, and drive the flies away with the other.

Many of the men were in poor health and we were happy to hear a small hospital facility had been created for those in very ill health. From remarks overheard, once the hospital had opened it’s doors, it was filled to capacity during the first day! A man just two beds from me had to be carried out. One of the men said  the fellow was suffering from dysentery and needed help immediately. The man did not return, and one could only assume he succumbed to the disease. Some of the men were picking weeds and boiling them. Hunger dominated our thoughts, and some would eat practically anything!

During the month of June there was little change. The rations proved enough to survive on, but I feared  the Japs would reduce the rations at the slightest provocation. My friend and I were in excellent health, and this would be to our advantage in the coming months. Each morning, after our ‘breakfast’ was downed, we sat around in small groups discussing our future. One fellow described in detail, his duties at a famous candy making facility in San Francisco. My mouth would water as Malette demonstrated his chocolate dipping technique, each movement carried out with an imaginary blob of chilled cream held between his finger tips and dipped into the milk chocolate! It often proved too much for me to handle, and I would evacuate the scene!

During the first week in July, my friend Spencer Bever, called me to one side. He had overheard two officers discussing a work detail being formed. Apparently the location was unknown, but was somewhere in the Philippines. Spence argued this place was a death trap, and there was little hope we would survive over a long haul. I felt this camp was at least a known factor, and I was fearful we might find Japan our eventual destination.

The outcome of this discussion is now history. We volunteered for the work detail and this did not prove to be one of our better decisions. We learned the detail would consist of one hundred‑fifty men, and the departure date would be very soon.

We were called together the following day. An American Officer informed us we would be accompanied by three Officers, that our destination was unknown, and to conduct ourselves properly, regardless of our situation. As I scanned the faces, and the wearing apparel of the men surrounding me, I discovered  the work detail would consist of a mixture of Army, Navy and Marines.

Soon we were on our way to Cabanatuan, the small village where we first arrived by boxcar. On this occasion, we travelled in style from Camp 3 to the small town. We were transported in trucks. It was very hot and we were thirsty. We were told boiled water was not available. Obviously this meant it would be a long time before we would get a drink. Fortunately, most of the men possessed canteens partially full, and each of us were able to satisfy our thirst. The town was small and dusty, and a few of the Filipino people moved closer to gaze at us  curiously. A small group moved toward us carrying mangoes and bananas. The guards screamed at them and quickly drove them away. We waited for some time, then climbed into the old boxcars for the journey back to Manila.

Fortunately, the wait was much shorter on this occasion. I think the train was actually waiting for us to get aboard, and once the old, squeaking doors were slid shut, the couplers began to take up and we began to move. With fewer men in the old patched up boxcars, some of the men were able to sit on the pitching floor. At times the train moved faster, only to again slow down and proceed very slowly, then speed up again for a short distance. The train always stopped in even the smallest of villages, loading and unloading amid toots of the whistle and loud noises from the engine. Once the train entered northern Manila, we stopped and started many times, always moving slowly when underway. When we shuttled into the train yard, all were happy to hear the doors sliding back. Unloading from the hot, crowded railway cars we were happy to see Jap trucks awaiting our arrival.

“This is not the same place we boarded the boxcars before,” I mumbled to Spence. 

“Yeah, different place alright,” Spence said, “and they got trucks. Wonder where they’re taking us?” 

We clambered into the canvas covered trucks and trundled along the dusty streets and shortly we were back to Bilibid Prison. Once through the counting process we were directed to one of the dark cell blocks where we were told our group would be fed. After eating, Spence and I wandered about, looking for other men from either of our batteries when on Corregidor. This proved to be fruitless and we drifted back to our area and flopped, deciding it might be better to rest than wander around aimlessly.

One of the officers accompanying our group cautioned us about wandering off. 

“We were ordered to stay together and be prepared to move out soon,” the officer said, “and that’s all we know. Don’t be surprised if we leave tomorrow.”

 

CHAPTER 16

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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