CHAPTER 17
NICHOLS FIELD
The next morning was the beginning of a new era for me. As I walked down the concrete steps to the courtyard I was aware I would miss the more pleasant duties I experienced as one of the cooks. I would certainly remember the extra food! As the work party counted off, left-faced, and straggled from the courtyard, I eagerly looked forward to the new sights awaiting me as the column moved along Park Ave. The column proceeded along the narrow street, hemmed in by high walls on both sides, broken only by tall, heavy metal gates. Many of the gates were constructed of thick bars, and large, two story homes, painted gay colors, with balconies and overhanging palm trees were visible within.
After passing numerous side streets the column neared a wide thoroughfare. As we marched onto the wide street, Taft Avenue, the column of four’s turned left and proceeded along this street walking on the extreme left of the pavement. An old bus rumbled by in the opposite direction. It was powered by a charcoal burner, and it was crammed with people heading for Manila. As we walked along, more of the old buses clanked by, heads and arms protruding from the open windows.
On our left, an open space paralleled the street. The space varied from twenty to thirty feet wide and served as a buffer between the street and a continuous row of small stores and shops. Many Filipino citizens walked past the stores, some window shopping, others curiously staring at the column of Americans plodding along the highway. Most of the eyes reflected sadness and pity. The shopkeepers stood in the doorways and watched as we passed. There were pretty girls, dressed in colorful clothing, walking along chatting and staring at us. Sailing by on bicycles were numerous riders. It was a pleasure for me to see the street activity, to see something other than the drab interior of Pasay School.
My first trip to the airfield seemed to slide by quickly since my eyes were jumping from one thing to another, but the trip would increase drastically in length after a long, laborious day with a pick and shovel on the Nichols Field runway!
When the column finally turned left onto the road leading to the airfield, I sensed I soon would glimpse the runways of Nichols Field. The column marched across a narrow, wooden bridge and approached a wide, paved area with a guard shack at the far end.
We were ordered to do a right face, and stand at attention. The order to ‘count-off’ was shouted and the column counted off in the conventional Japanese manner. We left-faced and moved forward past the guard shack. I stared ahead anxiously looking for aircraft, and for the runways, and I spotted a hanger off to my right, and another just beyond. These were both located on the west side of the north-south runway. It became evident we were headed toward that runway, and as we neared it I could make out the east-west runway to my left. Now the column was crossing the runway and moving eastward. Ahead, one long, low building took shape together with some smaller structures, all with corrugated metal roofs. One of the smaller buildings proved to be the tool shack, and another turned out to be the Wolf’s shack.
Across the east-west runway to the north was a wide, paved taxi strip which led to four, identical hangers facing east. Parked on the taxi strip were several Jap single-engined dive bombers, or possibly patrol planes. The aircraft were painted green, and sported large, red Jap insignia's.
I was startled from my inventory of the airfield by loud shouts to count-off! We were then dismissed, and I followed the others into the long building where I saw the other men depositing their belongings onto the bench that ran around the inside of the structure. Spence came up and revealed he had made arrangements for me to work with him on his car, and the Marine would be working with another Marine who needed a partner. Spence led me over to the tool shack where we checked out picks and No. 10 shovels. Apparently work was about to commence as the Wolf had emerged from his hole and he was waving his ever present staff at the guards. Spence had warned me to stay clear of the Wolf, and do not stare at him or meet his eyes.
I watched him shouting orders and pointing his staff. The men began moving from the building, anticipating the guards would be shouting and yelling. Spence led me out to the car, explaining the routine, the do’s and don’ts, and how to stay out of trouble with the guards. As we approached the car I looked about, remembering the vivid word pictures of the work detail from the others. I was amazed at the volume of material that had been removed in the short time these men had worked here. Spence explained the system he tried to follow as the work day progressed. If he and his car-partner managed to complete their load before the Japs began yelling to move, he would pile any rocks, or loose material available close to the car in preparation for the next load. He said sometimes the bank next to the car would be very difficult to shovel, and it was quite time consuming using the picks to loosen it for shovelling into the car.
That first day on the work detail was an eye opener for me! When the noon “lunch” break arrived, I was indeed happy to plod back to the building and sit down. The rice was already there, and we formed in lines with our mess kits to receive our rations. We carried our food into the building, seeking the shade it offered, and a bench to rest on. Water was available in one half of a fifty gallon drum. It was hot, boiled water, but welcome nevertheless.
It seemed we had hardly sat down when a guard began banging on a short length of rail hanging from one corner of the building with a heavy hammer, signalling for us to move out to the work area. We plodded out to the cars and the process began again, load, push the heavy car down to the fill area, pull the wooden shell from the car and dump the load into the fill. At the end of that first day, we had loaded, and dumped seven car loads of dirt and rock. It was a tough day’s work, and my body informed me my arms, legs and back had been treated unfairly on this day, and I wondered how many such days were ahead of me? I realize now it was well that we did not know the immense task and suffering that lay ahead of us!
It was at this time we were awarded a new interpreter, and this one was a real dandy! His name was Ned he asserted loudly, and he was born in Honolulu. Naturally, from that time on, he was designated “Honolulu Ned”. His English could be described at best as “pidgen English”, and we quickly found he repeated himself over and over again. We quickly arrived at the conclusion that Ned knew very little English, and he repeated the little he did know quite often to impress the Wolf, the Angel and Cherry Blossom. This became apparent when the Wolf delivered one of his impassioned tirades directed at us, his captive audience! The Wolf would rave for five minutes, waving his arms and pounding the railing of the veranda. Then he would turn to Ned for his translation. Ned would now clear his throat, (Ned would always clear his throat), and begin with his soon to be famous lead-in line, “Uh-uh-Mister Dakota say---” then Ned would proceed to expound a few broken sentences, then stop. The Wolf would glare, Ned would nod his head, then repeat the very same words! Again he would turn to the Wolf, receive the same intense glare and repeat his words once more. We found it often difficult to restrain ourselves from laughter, knowing the Wolf somehow knew Ned was failing to get his message across!
We learned quickly that Ned was a sneak. Guy Wardlaw warned our little group that Ned would appear friendly and helpful, but in reality, he was treacherous. He would attempt to lead you into saying something you would not say to one of the guards, then he would trap you. Ned was continually trying to impress the Wolf and the White Angel. If points were to be gained with the Wolf, Ned would care less if a prisoner was beaten senseless! Guy warned us to stay clear of the interpreter. The Pasay School building was an ideal structure for a prison compound. The school windows were boarded up, and a barbed wire fence constructed around the perimeter. A twelve foot wall, bordering the alley behind the school ran the width of the building. From the back of the building to the wall was approximately ten to twelve feet. Within this open area the benjo was located, adjacent to the wall.
It would prove to be a very difficult place from which to escape. Only one man would find an escape route from this prison, and he, strangely enough, would be apprehended ENTERING the compound. This man, a Marine, knew the Filipino family living next to the school. We learned from a friend of the Marine, that he discovered a way through, or over the fence, and he had been using this route for some time to visit the family next door and fill his stomach with good food.
Unfortunately, in the process of returning to the compound, the Marine was apprehended by a Japanese guard, and the jig was up. An eyewitness furnished an account of the events that occurred the following day. A small group of POWs were selected to accompany the Japanese. They proceeded to Nichols Field, and out to a place just south of our work area. The Marine was brought forward and forced to dig his own grave. When the Japanese were satisfied the grave was deep enough, the man was forced to stand at the foot of the hole. The firing squad was ordered forth, lined up before the Marine, and proceeded to execute the man. Although I, and my immediate friends did not know the Marine, the tragic death of this man was still a shock! We could think of little else, talk of little else, other than the murder of this man who was only trying to get something to eat.
In Room Five we sat in a circle, talking in low tones. Guy Wardlaw, our room leader, was telling us we must not let this terrible incident get us down. Guy was older than most of us and certainly served as a father figure to those of us needing help, both mental and physical. Many months later, he would save my life.
I had contracted dysentery, together with wet beriberi and pellagra. I slowly sank, down to eighty‑eight pounds. Somehow, Guy was able to materialize mongo beans, peanuts, bananas and other food. I shall never forget his help, and I shall not forget his name. I am sure Guy Wardlaw saved many others, just as he saved me.
Guy told us we would see many shocking things during our incarceration, events that would probably jolt us just as much as the cold blooded murder some had witnessed today. He informed us very bluntly the Japanese did not possess compassion, nor consideration, and we must be prepared for atrocities unlike anything we had ever experienced.
Time rolled by slowly, and the work become more grueling. During the earlier days of this work detail, the POW’s had been loading seven or eight cars each day. But now, thanks to White and his friends, we were forced to load and dump twelve cars per day.
White, and his husky pals would hurry and load their cars quickly, then stand around and rest while the other car crews finished their loads. The Japanese guards soon began to hassle the slower men, to threaten them with physical abuse. Obviously, the smaller, weaker men like myself, could not possibly load over a yard of dirt and rock in the same length of time as two large, and very strong men.
White’s exclusive little clan consisted of two car crews, and they, of course, controlled the first two cars. The pressure they exerted on the rest of the men was incredible, and was the cause of many hardships. Eventually, the demand would rise to twenty cars, then after two years, twenty‑two cars each day.
This was one of many examples of American prisoners bringing unnecessary hardship upon themselves. At times, it was the spirit of competition, sometimes it was sheer stupidity. There is little doubt which category the Nichols Field episode fits into. This man White, and his thugs, did not consider the effects of their activities on their fellow Americans.
When we first arrived at Pasay School the rainy season had started, and this offered both good, and bad to the American POW’s. If the magnitude of the storms neared typhoon proportions, we remained at the school. Since this fell into the “no work” category, our rations were reduced to half. Reducing very little by one half, left practically nothing remaining! This condition brought the entire camp down to the level of those incarcerated in the Pasay School Hospital. The sick and the injured received half rations as a general rule, reflecting the total stupidity of the Japanese mentality. Obviously, the sick and the injured should received sufficient nourishment to aid in their recovery, therefore enabling these men to return to the work detail. But the Japs, with their “punishment philosophy” could hardly follow such a logical path. If the prisoner did not work, he must be punished! Although a man had been injured on the job, the concept of proper treatment to return him to the “work force” quickly, seemed not to occur to the captors.
Torrential rains were very common on Luzon. When these heavy rains struck the airfield, the Wolf and his henchmen hardly noticed. Why should they? There was adequate shelter for even the lowest of the Jap guards. The small guard shacks were equipped with roofs. The Wolf remained in his “shack” during these downpours, but the Americans were forced to endure the rain and the mud and load their cars for another trip down the track to the dumping area.
During the “early” weeks and months after our arrival at Nichols Field, our regular army shoes protected our feet from all of the hazards of walking on the streets to the airfield, and the conditions existing in the work area at the airfield. But often, following the rains, the drying process began! Although the warm sun removed the terrible chill produced by the often cold rain, and the wind that accompanied the weather fronts, this brought an immediate change to the surface of the muddy ground! As the sun grew hotter, the muddy surface of ground froze into a thousand tiny, razor blades! The swift changes, from mud, to a hard, often sharp expanse of rough ground immediately produced such an uneven walking surface our shoes quickly began to deteriorate!
Soon, the men realized that once their precious army boots were gone, there would be no re-issues! Some decided to “go barefooted” and preserve their army shoes. This proved to be a bad decision! For two reasons! First they found that without shoes they were forced to hop about when walking. This of course was brought about by very tender feet, and by the lack of clean sidewalks on the march to the airfield along the streets of Pasay, which hardly matched “going barefoot” during their childhood. Now the Japs hardly took kindly to the Americans hopping along Park Avenue, and the wider avenue on the way to Nichols Field. The guards yelled a lot, then the Wolf investigated and he yelled a lot! No more walking without shoes he said. Then he proceeded to jump up and down, and he said it some more!
I had the misfortune to be among those men first to have disintegrating army shoes! We were soon to experience exactly what the “replacement” shoes would consist of! When I was handed the new issues, I could only stare at them! The shoes were black canvas shoes of the type that our guards wore! At the rear of the shoes, a small tongue of metal slipped beneath a loop of braided thread! The “big toe” was separated from the remainder of the sole! The first thought to come to any of us was simply, “if our GI shoes fell apart working on the airfield, just how long did the Japs think these canvas things would last under the same conditions?” The idea these cheap imitations would withstand the rigors of the Nichols Field Work Detail was ludicrous.
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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© 2002 Al McGrew