CHAPTER 16

 

PASAY SCHOOL

 

He was right. The following morning we were loaded into open trucks, and soon were winding through narrow streets, eventually stopping in front of what appeared to be a schoolhouse. This proved to be our new home. The date was July 8, 1942. As the trucks groaned to a stop, we were prodded to the ground and lined up for a count. After the count, we were marched up on the front porch and into the school. The building was rectangular, with a large courtyard in the center. We were lined up in the courtyard and stood waiting. In a short while Japanese guards came from the front of the building and counted off twenty men. These were herded to the first room we passed when we entered from the front porch. The next twenty men were counted off and led to the second room. The third twenty went to the third, the fourth to the fourth, and Spence and I found ourselves in the fifth room. This continued until most of the rooms on that side of the building were occupied.

Pasay School - two years of hell in the room which can be seen through the open door.

As one entered the schoolroom, the first thing to be seen was a platform built up off the floor about eighteen to twenty inches high. An open aisle way ran along inside the wall, parallel to the veranda. The open aisle way was about four feet wide and allowed access to the platform the full width of the room. Spence and I chose the rear row next to the left wall adjacent to Room No. 6, and Spence next to me. Guy Wardlaw had the first “bed” just inside the door, and his head was about two to three feet below my feet. A row of ten men slept at right angles to the aisle way, and the other ten, starting with me at the wall, were located in the second row. Each of us placed our sparse belongings at the head of our “beds” to serve as a pillow. The thin, woven bamboo matting that covered the sleeping surfaces offered little protection for our now lean bodies.

I walked out of the room and looked around, The veranda ran around three sides of the courtyard with a banister along the outside. Standing in Room 5 doorway and looking to my left was the front of the schoolhouse. Several rooms across the front of the building were used by the Japs. Just to the right of the door to Room Five, five or six concrete steps led down to the courtyard. As I descended the steps, to my right, and running across the courtyard, was a long, low building constructed of corrugated iron. The front was open, the sides and the back closed in, At the right end of the building were several large, iron rice pots. This was the kitchen, Directly behind the “kitchen” was another structure, which proved to be the showers. Several vertical pipes, five to six feet apart were visible along both sides. The tops of the pipes each had two elbows and a short nipple pointing down which served as “shower heads”. Behind the “shower” building another set of steps led up to the veranda at the rear of the courtyard. As I started up the steps I was hailed by a short, rather roly-poly individual that was obviously Chinese. He asked me if I could point out any of the men who were capable of cooking rice, I nodded and pointed to myself, “I can cook rice” I told him, but informed him I did not know anyone else who could. He led me to a Japanese at the front of the building and jabbered for some time. He asked my Room Number, then told me to return to my room. That was how I became a cook at the Pasay School.

Later that same day everyone was lined up in the courtyard. Several uniformed Japanese appeared, plus the Chinese man  I had talked to about cooking rice. When all of the uniformed Japs were lined up beside each other, they all stood looking down upon us. The Chinese man spoke. He said we had been brought here to work for the Japanese Navy, that we must work hard and do what we were told. His English was rather good, not polished, but much  better that we had experienced up to this time.

He introduced the Commander of this camp, a small, stern looking man, dressed in an impeccable white Jap Navy uniform. The small man wore a “Hitler type” mustache and he sported some gold in his stern mouth which frequently reflected sparkles of light as he spoke. The little man’s eyes scanned the Americans slowly, then he began to speak rapidly in Japanese, his voice rising until he was literally shouting. How, and why, the name “White Angel” was coined, I cannot recall, but from these early meetings with this man, it was the only title, or name, we were ever to use.

Next to the “Angel” stood another Japanese dressed also in a white uniform. His rank was later identified as Warrant Officer. On his shoulders were insignia resembling cherry blossoms, and consequently, he was later christened “Cherry Blossom.” It soon became apparent that Angel and Cherry Blossom spoke zero English.

“You must all work hard!” the round Chinese man shouted.

After we returned to our rooms each man was issued a thin blanket, a white cloth with a number marked in black together with our name written in Jap symbols. The square of cloth was approximately 3” x 4”. Also a large straw hat with the same number painted brightly on the side. The number I was issued was 96, and Spence Bever was No. 88. We were told a man from each room would be appointed ‘room leader’, and this man would be responsible for all the men in the room.

Spence and I decided to make a survey of the compound and as we passed thru the door, we turned right and walked along the veranda, or porch, as we called it. At the rear of the building several cement steps led down to ground level, and directly ahead was a very tall wall. To the left a few paces we found the latrine (or benjo), and beyond the latrine was another set of steps that led up to the other aisleway that bordered the courtyard on the far side from our room. Rooms identical to ours also ran from the rear of the schoolhouse to the front. These rooms were unoccupied of course. Another set of concrete steps led down to the courtyard from the veranda on this side, directly opposite to those next to our room, and we descended these steps and crossed the courtyard to Room Five. “Looks like we’ve seen it all!” Spencer mumbled as we crawled up onto the platform and plopped on our ‘beds’.

The following day we met the next “star” in our cast of characters at the Nichols Field Prison Camp. He was to be named “the Wolf”. He was identified by the interpreter as the “Field Superintendent” of this work detail. His jurisdiction began when the POW's  departed from the Pasay School each day. We were soon to learn this man was dangerous! Dakota-san not only hated American POW's, we later learned he was obsessed with the project he would supervise for the coming two years. 

To the Wolf, the Angel, Cherry Blossom and the majority of our guards, we American POW’s were the lowest form of life. It also became obvious these ‘people’ labored under a strange inferiority complex. They were small, we were large, and more importantly, we were helpless!

The men were awakened early the next morning, The first work day had arrived! I was on duty in the kitchen after having been awakened very early to get the fires started to cook the rice. The men were fed, each room being issued a square, five gallon can of steamed rice. One man was delegated by the room leader to ration each man in line a portion of  rice into whatever container the man produced, usually a mess  kit. It required several meals for the rice issuer to become proficient in apportioning thirty somewhat equal  portions of steamed rice to the men. If the issuer misjudges the quantity given to each man, he may well have zero rice remaining for himself. Some of the rice issuers found themselves relieved of this duty due to their inability to mete out the rice in equal portions.

After eating, the men were told to don their large straw hats and assemble in the courtyard, The numbers soon proved to be our identity. If a guard wished to address a prisoner, he merely shouted his number. We a were quick to discover that to know your number was to eliminate numerous kicks, blows, and jabs from various instruments. My number was ninety-six, (KU-JU-ROKU), and my friend Spencer’s number, eighty-eight, (HACHI-JU-HACHI). I will never forget those numbers!

Since I would be working in the kitchen, I could only watch as the men were lined up and counted off, then were marched up the steps, along the veranda to the front of the school and out to the street. The street fronting the Pasay School was Park Ave. At the street the column turned left and began the hike to we know not where. They were marched in a column of fours along the narrow street, eyes taking in the surrounding landmarks. We could not have guessed then, how many times this long, dusty walk would be taken. The column proceeded along the narrow streets for perhaps a mile, then reached a much wider avenue. This was Taft. The column again swung left, continuing in a general direction away from the Pasay area.

Many small shops and stores were evident as they marched along this thoroughfare. Filipino men and women watched with saddened eyes as they were herded by. Numerous buses and old trucks slowly rolled by, all powered by crude charcoal burners. It was all quite interesting in the early days of this work detail, but the interest would lag as time wore on.

Finally the column turned left from the wide street onto a rather narrow paved road, across a wooden bridge that led to an equally wide roadway. As the column approached a guard station they stopped, and were told to face right. Once again they counted off, ichi, ni, san,-- Satisfied, the guards pushed them onward. Some of the men recognized they were entering an airfield!

“Hey! This is Nichols Field, I know this place!” An Army Air Corps man near Spence said.

So this work detail was to work at an airfield. That sounded much more exciting than working on the farms near Cabanatuan. As they continued farther onto the field Spence said there were two runways, joined together in the shape of an ‘L’. The men were moving toward the apex of the two runways, and as they advanced, they had time to scan the scene before them. The east/west runway ran off in approximately the direction they were walking. Perhaps half way out the runway, and to the left (north), a taxiway led to four large hangers, Beyond was open country. To the right, the north/south lay, with large hangers located on the near side.

They continued walking, across the runway, and onto the field beyond. Two hundred yards ahead arose a low hill, and just beyond, a taller one. To the right of the first hill a low, rectangular building had been erected. The roof was constructed of corrugated steel. Around the perimeter and facing inside, was a continuous bench. Down the center of the building uprights supporting the roof also supported benches running the length of the building. The sides of the building were about three feet high, and the openings could be covered with hinged sheet metal. Twenty yards to the right of this structure stood a large shed with a padlocked door.

They were hustled past the long shelter toward several irregular stacks of scrap metal. As they approached, it became obvious the ‘scrap metal’ was sections of narrow gauge railroad. Each section of rails was joined together with metal instead of wood ties, and the gauge of the rails appeared to be 30”-36”. Four men were assigned to carry each section from the first stack, and they were soon strung along a route designated by the guards. A hundred yards father into the field, they began laying the track. A line of stakes stretched before them, probably located there by Jap surveyors before our arrival. The first track section was placed even with the first stake, and parallel with the line formed by the stakes.

The surface of the ground was relatively level in the immediate area, but a few yards ahead it began a gently rise to the crest of the first low hill. Apparently the plan would have the men lay the track up the slight grade.

Small groups were broken off from the main work party and put to work levelling high spots, carrying water from the long building in fifty gallon drums cut roughly in half, and some were carrying more tools out to the work area. At noon they were lined up, counted, and marched back to the long building for lunch and a rest. ‘Lunch’ turned out to be steaming rice in square, five-gallon cans with wire handles, brought from the Pasay School. Lines were formed before each can and after receiving a level mess kit of rice, the men moved under the shelter of the metal roof and out of the intense sunlight.

The rest period passed quickly, and they were hustled back to their rail carrying activities. They continued laying rails until late in the afternoon when they were ordered to gather all tools and carry them back to the shed. After a counting of heads, they were formed into a column of fours and the march back to Pasay School began.

That evening, the major topic of  conversation was the airfield. Those of us who remained at the school were anxious to learn  every detail of the day’s activities at the work site. Of course we were still ignorant of our captor’s master plan, and speculation ran rampant concerning our future tasks o the airfield. The men’s arrival at the work site the next morning found several small cars lined up next to the track. Each was fitted with four steel wheels, a flat bed, and a wooden shell with a handle at each upper corner. The shell would be filled with dirt, rocks or other materials.

The POW’s were directed to lift the cars onto the track, four men to each car, and amid much ‘heaving and ho-ing’, this was accomplished. The shells were slid onto the beds and the cars were rolled along the track several yards to make room for yet more cars.

Once the cars were all mounted onto the rails, the Japs ordered the men to carry a section of rails to the first car in line, set the section on top of the shell, and push the car to the end of track. The prisoners quickly recognized their intent. This section was joined to the assembled track, and extended the length of the railroad as this procedure was repeated.

The following two days were identical. The men continued to extend the little railroad farther onto the airfield, over the first low hill, and beyond, until the track reached a low depression that lay between the two hills. The Americans were to discover the following day this work detail was not brought to the airfield to construct a miniature railroad.

Upon arrival at the work site on the next morning, they were told each car would have two men crews. Each man checked out a pick and a shovel. Other men would be responsible for the tools and these same men would carry water to the main body of the work detail.

Spence Bever and one of our Marine friends started out as partners, and they proceeded to choose a car while the other men milled around trying to decide who might make a good work-mate. This process was speeded up by the guards, whom I’m positive, had orders to get this show on the road. As they proceeded, it became obvious they were going to climb the first low hill.

Since these hills were low and rolling, the crest of this one was flat for about forty yards. The cars were lined up about six to eight feet apart. The interpreter passed along the Wolf’s instructions to our officers, and the men were told by our officers they were to begin digging on the right side of the track. It was soon apparent they were to dig down, and to the right, a trench twice the width of each car. As they loosened the dirt and small rocks, they shovelled this material into the cars.

When all of the cars were loaded, the men were ordered to push them along the track toward its termination, in the valley between the two hills. There, they were ordered to pull the shells from the beds and dump the material into the low spots to the left of the track. After dropping the car back onto the track, each crew lifted the wooden shell onto the bed of the car and proceeded to push the car back to the loading area. When the long trench was three feet deep, they were instructed to pull the track into the trench, straighten it, then begin digging away the bank on which the track had rested.

On that first day of labor, they loaded and dumped seven cars. At the end of the day they were a bunch of bone wary men. The march back to the schoolhouse that evening required every ounce of strength they could muster. After eating our rice and watery soup, we sat on the thin, woven bamboo mats in our room and talked of this day’s events. 

Several of us considered drawing straws to determine who would be the lucky one to kill Spence Bever. Then we discussed at length, numerous, painful, drawn-out methods to destroy him. After all, wasn’t he responsible for our present predicament? Spence countered these accusations with numerous, positive arguments such as,  were we not working in the nice clean air and getting three squares a day? Each of us had been issued a nice new G-String hadn’t we? What about the neat straw hats with our own number on each side?

We considered his statements for perhaps ten seconds, then pondered the possibility of collectively killing him, shedding as little blood as possible. Somehow, he survived this dilemma, but he would face many more in this hellhole called Nichols Field.

 We were soon to learn the purpose of this work detail was to build a runway bisecting the two existing runways. Looking back, the magnitude of this undertaking is incomprehensible. The volume of material to be removed by pick and shovel and push cars was immense. The depth, and the width of the cut through the two hills was incredible.

On an evening like most other evenings, we, the inhabitants of Room #5 were grouped around Guy Wardlaw, our room leader discussing our plight and the possible length of our internment. 

Lindsay, in his southern drawl turned to Guy. 

Jus how long you think we gonna be trapped in this rathole, Guy? 

Guy frowned. It went silent all of a sudden. 

We may have to stay alive till '45. 

Lindsay put his right hand to his forehead and exclaimed, Whoa! You mean 1945? 

Who's gonna get us out of here? another man kibitzed.

You mean we're gonna be here another three years? Lindsay moaned. 

Stay alive till '45! Guy said with a half smile, bringing helpless groans from the other men, including myself. 

C'mon Guy, I said, "you gotta be kidding!

I wish I was. We have to keep our hopes up, and hang in there. We've already finished a year and we have to hope and pray the Yanks and Tanks are out there somewhere killing Japs.

Why didn't you say, Golden Gate in '48 and be done with it! Lindsay cracked. 

Now don't let us get carried away, Guy laughed. C'mon you guys, '48 is five years away! Cut it out! We can't last that long.

Guy's face turned suddenly quite serious. Men, I can assure you we won't be here five years, or four, or three. The Yanks and Tanks are coming this way. We have to hold on!

Even those who disagreed with him hoped he was right.

Some weeks later I became sick and was ushered to the hospital room, room No. 8. Our doctor told me it was imperative that I get off my feet and stay off! My scrotum swelled up until it was the size of a grapefruit! I had to soak it three times a day  to reduce the swelling, and this took several days. Somehow I sensed  I would be aced out of my job in the kitchen, and this proved to be correct! 

There were already politics galore in this camp, and there was no way I could keep my job as one of the cooks with the pressures brought to bear by a man named White, and another named Bill Norman. White had rapidly gained power in the camp and pressed to get his men into the kitchen, the tool room, and other favored places. White, a former beer truck driver, (by his own admission), and three of his burly pals, had grabbed the first two cars on the track. Perhaps it was only chance, we will never know, but it quickly became apparent that he and his crew could control  the pace of the entire line of cars! These men were so big and strong, it was quite easy for these first two cars to be loaded long before the smaller, and much weaker men could possibly complete the task in the same length of time! The men soon learned that loading their cars late would trigger a beating from the guards. Dakota san, the Wolf, now began to show his true colors! When men failed to load their cars in time, he ordered the guards to beat the slow loaders with pick handles! Some of the beatings were crippling, and often men had to be helped back to Pasay school house. As time passed, the pick handle became the main weapon for beating the American POW’s.

I was now declared ready for work and sent back to my room. I was ordered to work at the airfield with the rest of the men the following day. Somehow I felt relieved to escape the confines of the camp. It was often difficult to avoid the Angel, Cherry Blossom and the other Japs who frequented the prison camp during the day when all of the men were working at the airfield. The Angel and Cherry Blossom did not go out to the work site, and one, or both often strolled around the veranda, and through the hospital and the kitchen. It was not unusual for the White Angle to accost on of the cooks, or one of the sick of injured for no apparent reason. If the Angel happened to be in a bad mood, anyone who happened by was a candidate for a beating.

When I allow my mind to roll back to that time, I now realize that I would have been far better off to remain in the kitchen, than moving to the work detail at Nichols Field. I must admit that at the time, I hardly expected this hellish place to continue endlessly.

 

CHAPTER 17

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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