Ch 18 - Feet on Fire

CHAPTER 18

FEET ON FIRE

Several of our small group of confidants were sitting on the rail outside of Room Five when a Jap guard came hurriedly down the veranda. He pointed at all of us and told us to follow him. He walked back toward the front waving for us to follow. We all went through the gate leading to the front porch of the school and saw that a medium sized truck was backed up close to the steps. The guard threw the canvas back and revealed several bags stacked just inside. The guard motioned for us to pick up the bags and carry them to the cooks. Two of the guys heaved one of the bags onto my back and I staggered back to the galley and dropped the sack to the ground in front of the rice pots. I went back to the front to see if there would be more to carry and found one of White’s henchmen standing next to the truck. Seeing him, I went to the other side of the truck and found one of my friends leaning against the truck.

Without thinking, I said something in Japanese to my friend and he shrugged and continued leaning. The Japanese guard was standing near the front of the truck and he heard me deliver the phrase in Japanese. He yelled at me, pointing his stick at me, then banging the stick on the ground in front of him. Another guard appeared and the one with the stick jabbered loudly and pointed his stick at me. All of the shouting brought more guards, then the first two grabbed me by my arms and dragged me around the back of the truck made me stand at attention.

I was still unaware of just what Jap law I had broken! The first guard shouted at me waving his arms, then he grabbed my right arm and forced me to walk over to the right side of area between the street and the school where the children’s play area was located. He motioned to the other guards and several of them closed in around me and one of them tied a rope around my wrists. They proceeded to throw the end of the rope over the top of the monkey bars which stood nearby. The first guard grabbed the rope and began pulling on it until the slack was removed, then another of guards helped him pull until I was raised upward off my feet. When my hands were pulled up to the large diameter bars that ran the length of the structure, the first guard looped the rope around one of the rungs and tied it securely. I was now hanging well above the ground! The first guard was shouting crazily and he began to hit me across the back with his stick.

Another of the guards pointed at my feet and the first guard’s eyes lit up and he began nodding wildly. Several of the Japs scurried around and then I realized what they were doing. They were going to build a fire under me! Quickly a fire was lit but it went out. Then another guard pushed the one lighting the fire away, and he proceeded to relight the fire! They all now stood back to watch. I knew I was in real trouble! The flames were beginning to grow higher and I could already feel the heat! I was trying to jerk my feet outward to evade the flames and I must have been kicking wildly by this time. The truck started up and drove over to one side and a big four-door sedan drove in and parked where the truck had been parked. I was so busy attempting to avoid the fire I could only snatch glances as the driver opened the rear door of the car and a short, squat man stepped to the ground. \

He was dressed in a white uniform and wore considerable gold braid. As I jerked my legs from side to side, my body was slowly turning around and I lost sight of what was going on. When I had turned around again, the Jap officer was next to me and he began kicking the fire away, spreading it in all directions! He was very angry, and I was very happy that he was very angry! The officer shouted orders at the guards who were practically grovelling at his feet. One of them released the rope and I dropped to the ground. I was beating at my shoes, which were smoking, but I found the shoes were not on fire. One of the guards released my wrists and I quickly removed my shoes and rubbed my feet.

The officer bellowed at the guards, and then he proceeded to the front porch of the school and climbed the steps and stood at the top. He began jerking at something on his wide belt and his sword came loose, scabbard and all. He grabbed the scabbard like a baseball bat and yelled at the guards who were bunched together at the bottom of the steps. One at a time the guards ascended the steps and the officer proceeded to beat them across the head and shoulders! He continued this process until I was sure he was going to behead them! He finally stopped, shouted and pointed at them and each of them limped away, considerably worse for the wear!

For the first time, I really studied the officer. He was quite short, and very stocky. His head was huge, and his neck was non-existent. His features were course and massive, and he looked just like an angel to me! He motioned for me to go and I bowed, turned around and made for the porch. When I arrive back to Room Five I sighed with relief. Guy Wardlaw was there as always, to help anyone in trouble. He looked at my feet, and at my shoes which I was carrying in my hand. The words fell from my mouth as I described what happened. He nodded, and proceeded to explain to me what he guessed had caused the episode to happen. He explained the Japs were very sensitive about any of us knowing what they were discussing. He suspected when I uttered the words in Japanese, the guard assumed I knew their language and he was very upset I might know the meaning of their words and thoughts. I shrugged, I was now the proud possessor of a new lesson in life. Keep any Japanese I might learn to myself! Don’t try to show off and jabber in Nip!

The first excitement we had experienced since arriving at Pasay School occurred a short time later. We arrived at the school house after a long day at Nichols Field to find a large group of new arrivals occupying the courtyard and the veranda. We found there were a hundred and fifty new men, and our tiredness disappeared as we hurriedly scanned the new group for familiar faces. We learned these men also had arrived from Cabanatuan, via Bilibid. The new men were assigned to the empty rooms across the courtyard.

We were told there were now two Cabanatuan POW camps, Camp One and Camp Three. We heard of the farms, and the death barracks, or “zero ward”, situated across from the main camp. Some of their stories were appalling, the mass graves, and the execution of some of our officers for trying to escape. According to their story, the officers were caught and executed.

The new men soon fell into the routine, the hike to the airfield, the long day of loading and dumping cars, swats across the back with pick handles and slaps across the face for not understanding an order from a guard. At this time the Wolf issued a new order. He did not like whistling! Anyone caught whistling would be punished! It seems that the Wolf had overheard one of the men imitating the sound of a bomb falling from the sky!

It is common knowledge that Americans are prone to whistling. It was obvious that sooner or later one of us would whistle, and unfortunately on this occasion it was sooner! His name was Sgt. Bila, and it happened during lunch. Since Bila was a member of my own Battery on Corregidor, he was a link to the past, and I retained a warm feeling for him. Bila had forgotten the order about whistling, and he happened to be walking in the area between our shelter, and a small building erected for the Wolf to sit in and have his food and tea.

Bila was walking out to the large drum containing boiled water for drinking, and he suddenly began whistling a happy tune. The Wolf erupted from his little shack screaming at the top of his voice. Of course, the guards brought forth their trusty pick handles and proceeded to beat the man until he collapsed to the ground and lay senseless. But the Wolf was not finished with Bila. He ordered the guards to drag him to his feet and made the poor man stand at attention, without a hat, for the rest of the work day.

The march back to Pasay School was a nightmare! Other POW’s took turns, in pairs, literally carrying Bila in the column, the entire distance to Pasay School.

After we arrived at the schoolhouse, we were not dismissed after we counted-Off. We stood at attention for nearly half an hour, until the Angel, the Wolf, Cherry Blossom and Ned finally made an appearance. Ned made a long spiel about the rule on whistling. Then he called Bila’s number and told him to come forward.

Three of the guards also came forward, armed with 2x4’s about four feet long. The three Japs methodically beat the man until he fell to the ground. They continued to beat him until he was lying senseless. Then two Jap guards appeared with a stretcher. They rolled Bila onto the stretcher and carried him away. I never saw him again. I have always wondered if he survived this ordeal, and while scanning through a listing of the Western States POW group fifty years later, I was astounded to find his name! Using the telephone number listed, I dialled his phone. A lady answered and told me she was Alex Bila’s wife. She proceeded to inform me that Alex had just passed away, and I could but offer my condolences, and explain that Alex and I were together on Corregidor, and I had came across his name in the listing. I returned the phone to the receiver in shock.

Our spirits were given a boost as we marched along the wide avenue toward Nichols Field. Many shop keepers along the througfare had discovered a method to pass along news to the Americans. Since the Jap guards spaced themselves out along the column, the shop keepers merely waited until a guard passed, then held up white cards with black letters describing the latest sea battle, or the latest American island landing.

“YANKS LAND ON GUADACANAL”, one sign said. Another stated, “YANKS BOMB TRUK”. In this way, the Filipino people kept us informed of the latest war news. If they were caught, they were dead. We knew that, and they knew it also.

Another event occurred at the Pasay School. A Filipino threw a sack of candy over the rear fence. It was tragic that a Jap guard witnessed this event. The American who picked up the candy was nearly beaten to death, and the Japs informed us the Filipino family living directly behind the fence were ruthlessly killed.

During one of my numerous visits to the Philippines in the 1980’s I learned from my friend Bill Delich, that this man and his family were not killed, that the father was beaten for tossing the candy over the fence, but the remainder of the family were unharmed! I was to follow up on Bill’s information during my next visit to the Pasay School in April of 1982. I did indeed find Conrado Cruz, a son of the man who threw the candy, still living behind the Pasay School, and still living in the very same house. I always visit Conrado and his family whenever I visit Manila. I always arrived there unexpectedly and I was received on each occasion as though I was royalty, Conrado’s wife scurrying to bring me a bottle of coca-cola, and some form of native desert. I continued to visit Conrado, his wife and children, on each of my visits to the Philippines throughout the ‘80’s. We still correspond regularly.

During my two year sojourn at the Nichols Field work detail, the sick room, (Room No.8), or hospital, had a continual roster of sick and injured. I spent several weeks there myself, suffering first with dysentery, then at another time I lay with swollen legs, hardly able to walk to the benjo. This latter disease was wet beriberi, caused by the absence of vitamin B Complex. The doctor informed us the deficiency was a product of eating polished rice.

It is also necessary to mention dry beriberi, totally different in appearance, but in the opinion of most, far worse than the wet variety. It was not unusual, at any time of the night, to see men standing next to the shower, holding their legs under running water, if there was any, dribbling from the faucets. I was told by many of these unfortunate sufferers, their legs ached similar to a tooth ache. Strangely, dry beriberi did not produce swelling. The outward appearance of the legs seemed normal, yet those who contracted this terrible disease suffered incredible pain.

We were beset with yet another painful adversary from the Orient referred to as `tropical ulcers’. First, a common sore appeared, and sores were plentiful among these men. A slight depression in the center of the sore materialized, then the depression developed into a crater. Two days later the crater was noticeably deeper. As each day progressed, the ulcers grew deeper. One of my friends had one that ate into his foot, above the heel and just behind his ankle. It continued to eat deeper into the flesh until it penetrated his ankle. A pencil could have passed through and out the other side! Occasionally, the doctor would have sulfa-powder, and would pack the ulcerated craters with the sulfa. This medical marvel would quickly attack the ulcers and dry them up. Fifty years later my legs still bear scars from these ulcers!

CHAPTER 19

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