Ch 31 - Luzon? Again! 29th Replacement

CHAPTER 31

LUZON! AGAIN?

29TH REPLACEMENT

There was, not only a group of very happy passengers, but additionally, a very ecstatic crew! Watching them, I felt strongly that none of them had thought we had a chance of landing safely! Fortunately for all of us, a field hospital was close by, still manned, and we learned the facility was well stocked. Also, the personnel of the hospital were thrilled to host a group of ex-prisoners of war! The whole facility was housed in large tents, and we were almost all exuberant to be welcomed to their cozy tent city! I say almost all, because ten of the passengers turned out to be English. It seemed these men were to return to North America with us, be transported to Canada, then across the Atlantic to their homes in Britain. The episode in the plane dimmed their view of modern aviation, and they all chose to walk rather than fly to Manila, or anywhere else!

The story, as I heard it the following day, was indeed remarkable! The British soldiers ate with us, slept in one of the tents, and then left the next morning for Manila on foot! Those stationed at the field hospital stated firmly there was no way those men could “walk” to Manila from the northwestern tip of Luzon! Of course, we will never know whether those “blokes” made it or not!

The crew managed to refuel the aircraft during the late afternoon, and repair a ruptured gas line. All of the inhabitants of the plane enjoyed a memorable repast at dinner that evening, thanks to the personnel of the hospital, and a good nights rest, free of mosquito attacks. The next morning, after a robust breakfast, sans the ten British soldiers, we boarded the C-46 Curtis Commando, and held our collective breaths as the pilot, after checking the wind, revved the engines, released the brakes, and we lumbered off the tiny air strip bound for Manila! The pilot unerringly guided the plane down the west coast of Luzon and some of the men were standing in the aisle, leaning over those seated across from me, looking for familiar landmarks.

When we finally reached the Bataan Peninsula, many were gawking out of the windows on the left side of the aircraft, scanning the terrain of Bataan for something familiar, and several of us who were interested in seeing Corregidor, were leaning to the right side of the aisle searching for a glimpse of the Rock. The pilot flew just south of Marivales to the North Channel, then east toward Manila, our destination. As we passed near Corregidor, the North Mine Dock, and the Engineer’s Dock were plainly visible. Few other details could be identified. Somehow I wished I could get out to the island and walk at my leisure over the familiar area.

Minutes later the aircraft had crossed Manila Bay and was settling to the ground at Nichols Field, a place I was only too familiar with! I had the urge to get out and walk, across to the site of some of my worst memories, a place where I had once believed I would never leave alive! Of course, it was not to be. Once down the portable steps, we were guided into trucks and soon bouncing along next to the runway. The truck came to a wide street and was soon bumping along a street badly in need of repairs. Our ride was short, and we soon pulled up to a large tent.

“Everybody out,” a noncom shouted.

A large canvas sign proclaimed “29th Replacement Depot”. The sign was strung between two vertical 2x4’s.

“What the hell is this?” some one wanted to know as we alit from the truck.

Facing away from the road I could see tents.....lots of tents....squad tents for men to live in! The thought foremost in my mind was, “What in the world have they brought us here for?”

“Don’t the military have anything but tents?” A man asked.

The noncom told us to follow him and he moved off down a path between two rows of tents. When we had walked about fifty yards along the path we were stopped, and the corporal, or whatever he was counted off several men and pointed at the nearest tent. He told them to bunk in that tent, then moved to the next tent and repeated the process. I fell into the next group which consisted of five men, and we were directed into a tent on the other side of the path. I chose one of the bunks near to the door, and put my few belongings on the cot. I was surprised that all of the beds were made up. The bedding consisted of sheets, a pillow and a blanket. I decided to stretch out on the bed and wait to see what came next. My wait consisted of about ten minutes.

A different noncom entered the tent and greeted us. He explained the 29th Replacement Depot was a gathering place for expatriated POW’s and other troops waiting for deployment back to the States. He said we would have everything at our disposal here, that we would receive a partial payment, and we would be issued uniforms and other personal needs, and this did not include women! That, of course, brought numerous jeers and catcalls! He would show us where to chow up, the latrines, and in the morning he would pick us up and show us the supply tent where we would be issued clothing. First, he led the five of us, plus the men from across the path, to a tent that was open on three sides. A counter, of sorts, ran around the three open sides, and several girls manned the other side of the counter. We could have beer and soft drinks, numerous kinds of goodies such as potato chips, cookies and candy.

The noncom informed us the girls were ‘Red Cross Girls’ and they were “off limits” to all military personnel. I asked him if we could get fresh milk here and he laughed and told me I could have all of the milk I wanted at the mess tent which was open 24 hours a day. He said we could order anything we wanted, anytime we wanted it!

“If you want a steak at 2am, there will be someone there to cook it for you! Needless to say, that brought some smiles!

I decided to test his pronouncement, personally. I wandered down the path until I saw a group of signs fastened to a tall 4x4 at the intersection of several paths. One sign pointed that’a way’ to a large tent that was labled “Mess Hall”. A wide opening served as the doorway into the mess hall. Inside was a large, open area filled with long tables and folding chairs. Some of these were occupied with men clad in various attire. Some were eating, some were just leaning back smoking as they talked. As I neared one of the tables, one of the men pointed to another opening behind him.

“Just go in there and tell ‘em what you want, ..to eat, that is,” he laughed.

I nodded and went thru the opening in the tent wall. Inside was a row of cookstoves, about three or four feet apart, end to end. A space before each stove separated each stove from a steel table. On one side of the large space, stood several metal cabinets I guessed to be reefers. A system, of sorts, existed. If you wished something to eat, walk up any stove/table combination that had a cook in residence, and merely tell him what you would like! He would take your order and you could go back and sit down, or watch him cook your order! I liked that!

I ordered milk, eggs over easy and toast. He asked if I would like bacon, ham or sausage. I requested bacon. In a few minutes I walked away with a large platter! I had three eggs sunny side up, several strips of bacon, a stack of buttered toast, and a large paper cup of cold milk! I am sure I ate the lot much faster than it took to prepare. I don’t think any food I have ever had tasted better! Needless to report, I was not hungry that evening!

The following day the five of us were issued uniforms, shaving kits, toothbrushes, plus a barracks bag to put everything in. I mentioned to the soldier in the supply tent that we were issued a barracks bag in Japan.

“That’s ok, have another one!” he grinned.

I was pleased to receive khaki uniforms, and some underclothes and socks. The shoes were a problem, and I returned them to the supply room. I was allowed to try various sizes and widths until I found a proper fit. The hot showers and hot water for shaving were delightful.

We were notified we were due a “partial payment” and this would be forthcoming immediately. When the lines formed, each was behind a sign bearing the a large letter. This letter proved to be the first letter of your last name. I perched in the line dedicated to the letter “M”. There was a paymaster sitting at a small table just in front of each sign. When my turn arrived, I was asked my last name, first and middle name, and my serial number. Then I was told to sign my complete name and indicate the date. I recall I had little idea of what the date was. I was given the date, and wrote it down. The noncom counted out the money, (I have no recollection of the sum), and I walked away, holding real, green U.S. bills!

On my second or third visit to the “drink tent” I heard one of the girls there asking if anyone was from Ohio. I spoke up and she asked where my home was. When I told her Columbus, she became very animated and asked if there was anywhere around Manila that I would specially like to visit. I replied that there was one place that I would like to find and that was the Pasay School House where I was a POW for two years. She told me that at various times she had access to a ‘jeep’, and she would be happy to drive me there if I knew just where it was. Now, that was a surprise! She asked me to drop by the following morning and perhaps she would know when we could schedule the trip.

When I went to the drink tent that next morning, she was there, and she held up a key-ring with a smile! I was to meet her there at 12:00 noon, and we would head out in search of Pasay School. The girl’s name was Janet, and she told me that her home was in Bexley, which I knew to be a large, wooded area populated with very large and very expensive homes located on the eastern edge of Columbus. I gave her directions as she turned out onto the boulevard fronting our tent city. Much of the area had changed, mainly due to the fighting that swept thru this area when the Yanks recaptured Manila. I finally managed to locate Park Avenue and directed Janet along Park until we pulled up in front of Pasay School. Looking upon the front of the school, the cement steps and the wide porch, or veranda was almost startling! I just sat there and blindly stared, not moving, not blinking.

“Are you ok?” Janet asked.

I explained to her the intense feeling that struck me when we first stopped there. I told her it would be impossible to explain the terrible events that had taken place here. I admitted I felt almost fearful that I was dreaming, and I would awake and find myself inside facing “The White Angel, The Wolf and the others.

“Would it help if you entered the place, and you could see it was deserted and empty?”

I climbed from the jeep and slowly walked thru the gate and along the walk toward the steps. The girl took my hand, a concerned look on her features. Looking back, it comes to me now that Janet was aware of the profound affect the place had upon me. She was worried that the impact might be too severe. I led her up the steps to the cement ‘porch’ and explained to her that the POW’s were marched out through the door on the right end of the porch, down the steps and out to Park Avenue where the column of fours would turn left and march on to Nichols Field where the work detail was located.

I led her through the doorway, then turned to the left to face the iron barred gate that separated the POW’s from their guards at the front of the building. The long veranda stretched back along the rooms, the old wooden railing still intact. I looked out across the courtyard where we would line up and count off before and after the work day. The galley, located just to the right of the steps that dropped to the courtyard in front of my room, was gone. The galley was constructed of corrugated sheet metal, and it had been torn down by someone, and also the showers directly behind the galley. The slab that served as the floor of the showers was still imbedded in the ground. The posts that supported the clothes lines were uprooted and laying on the ground.

I walked back to the steps and to the doorway of Room Five. The door opened to my push and revealed the platform still intact where we had slept on for so long. The bamboo mats were gone, baring the wooden planks. I pointed to the place where I had slept for two of the longest years of my life. I told Janet about Guy Wardlaw, how he had surely saved my life when I was extremely ill by procuring bananas and peanuts. He will always be in my heart, and in many others as well. He was indeed a marvelous man who always thought of others before himself. I took her hand and walked swiftly back to the front of the building. We went to the jeep and the girl drove away. I didn’t look back. I somehow knew this place would forever remain in my mind.

Janet drove me into Manila and I saw damage everywhere! Many of the large buildings were damaged and some destroyed. I hadn’t realized that intense fighting had swept through this whole area. Since there was little to see, we soon headed back to the 29th Replacement Depot. I could not thank Janet enough for driving me to Pasay School and providing me the opportunity to visit Manila and the waterfront.

The next day I began walking the paths that separated the rows of tents. I felt if Spence was here, I must find him! I walked for hours, checking each tent, asking others if they had known, or seen Spence Bever. I attempted to find an office that might have a listing of all who passed through this depot, but met only with frustration. I knew other men were being processed through the 29th, and I hoped Spence would appear sooner or later. My time ran out a few days afterward when I was notified I would sail on the next ship to leave Manila for the States. This, of course, dashed all hopes that we would fly home.

CHAPTER 32

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