Prologue

TAGAYTAY, 1941

If you have been to Tagaytay, you will remember it as a hilly town. Maybe you would not call it
a town at all and you would be right, for Tagaytay might more properly be called merely a
geographical expression.

Tagaytay seems to have been made only for the Taal Vista Lodge, a striking stone building in a
beautiful rural setting. There are few buildings in Tagaytay, perhaps four or five residential
houses with shaded yards, the Mayor's office and residence, and another building which
houses the offices of the Treasury and the Internal Revenue.

Facing north, during the day, you look into a broad expanse of grasscovered rolling hills dotted
with trees. Off a little farther, your eyes rest on a lush growth of coconut plantations. In the
distance, on it cloudless day, you will see the smooth clear blue that is Manila Bay.

To the west is the Tagaytay water tower; and farther up, the small oneroom restaurant with the
red roof, gasoline station, and Coca Cola signs, which calls itself "The Tagaytay Lunch". If you
look closely enough, up the road leading to Batangas where it is joined by the road from
Mendez, you might see old Mr. Solis' restaurant and one or two other houses. Farther to the
west are thick forest lands extending to the China Sea.

To the south. you find the most beautiful scenery in all of Tagaytay. Directly ahead of you is the
edge of a cliff that drops steeply down about a thousand feet, thickly wooded until the dense
forests give way to coconut plantations on the shores of Lake Taal.

Lake Taal is smooth but for little ripples racing on its glassy surface when a breeze blows. The
shores of this small lake are bordered by a verdant growth of heavy woods and coconut trees
except where Taal Volcano obstructs your view. Looking at the volcano which stands in the
middle of Taal Lake, you will note the lake within the crater at its peak.

You will surely notice just below you on the shores of Lake Taal the large cream and brown
building that is Kraut's Hotel. Every so often you will see a launch coming in from Talisay.

To the east, you will find the tall peak known as Ilong Castila, so called because it looks like the
aquiline nose of a huge Castilian. At the foot of this mountain under coconut trees is a picnic
grove. Beyond it, especially in the late afternoon, you. will see Laguna de Bay.

At night when there is no blackout and it is clear, you will see to the north the rosary of bright
pinpoints which you will remember as Dewey Boulevard in Manila. Through the coconut
plantations, you might catch a glimpse of the town of Silang.

Way to the south, you will see the lights of Calaca and Lemery and probably, dimly through the
forest, those of Balayan. On Lake Taal you will notice hundreds of lights as fishermen in their
bancas (boats) await their catch. To the west, you will note the lights of Calamba.

Tagaytay is pleasantly cool during the day even with the sun shining brightly overhead
because breezes from Manila Bay, Lake Taal, and Laguna de Bay gambol busily on the grassy
hills, causing the grass to roll in waves chasing one another. They play hide-and-seek among
the coconut trees and in the forest as monkeys and birds chatter away and twitter with joy.
Twilight lingers long in Tagaytay and in the evening it becomes really cold for the tropics.

In this healthful atmosphere where even the vegetables grow fast and over-sized, the 41st
Division of the Philippine Army was born.
 PART ONE
WAR COMES TO THE PHILIPPINES

CHAPTER 1

Hasty Preparations

It was early morning, 8 December 1941, in Tagaytay. I was breathing in the cool air and
watching the mist rise from Lake Taal when Lieutenant Harris, the U.S. Army instructor of my
battalion, the 41st Engineers of the 41st Division, Philippine Army, came up to me and said,
"War has come."

You've been drinking, Harris," I said jokingly.

“No it's true," he replied. "I heard it over the radio at 6:00 o'clock this morning. Waves and
waves of Japanese planes have bombed Pearl Harbor.”

Harris was given to joking but this time I could tell he was dead serious. We walked over to
Lieutenant Tinio's quarters where there was a radio, We found no one there. The officers were
attending reveille. Lieutenant Mata, the Battalion Surgeon, was in the next quarters. Seeing us,
he leaned out his window and said urgently to me, “Captain, Pearl Harbor was bombed by the
Japanese."

I gathered myself' together as his words lodged themselves in my mind. So it was true. War
had come.

For us who belonged to the 41st Division, this was certainly a most inopportune time for war to
come. While the 41st Field Artillery Regiment was fully mobilized and had been having combat
training, of the Division's three Infantry regiments, only the 42nd Infantry was fully mobilized.
The 41st Infantry was partly mobilized; the 43rd Infantry was still on paper.

The 41st Engineer Battalion, of which I was the commander, had been busy installing water
and electrical services for our Cantonment Area in Tagaytay for the past two months. Upon
completion, it was to have had 1,028 buildings. The Engineer Battalion had had basic training
but no arms had been issued to it as yet. The schedule, ironically enough, called for the
issuance of ordnance equipment today.

Only yesterday, as Division Engineer, I had driven on the road from Tagaytay to Talisay along
the shores of Lake Taal with the mayor of Tagaytay. The road which had been under
construction for more than a year had been finished quickly so that our men could be
transported to the proposed target range on Lake Bonbon. Now, before the range could be
started, war was upon us. The Japanese must have seen the enormous preparation for the
defense of the Philippines and had struck before the Philippine Army could be made ready to
take to the field.

It cannot be said that the Philippines did not know that war was coming. We knew war could
not be avoided. At best it could be delayed. We were feverishly preparing for it.
Rumblings of war had been in the air for so long that a country that thought it would not be
involved had to be naive. Had not war raged in Europe for two years now? Had not Germany
by this time annexed almost every country in Europe or made either allies or vassals of those it
had not? Had not Germany tried to launch an invasion of England? Had not Germany, true to
its plans in 1916, invaded France at the expense of Belgium? Had not Germany then, as in
1916, turned its face toward Russia?

We knew all this and saw that everything pointed to the fact that America would soon be
involved. We knew that with America's involvement, the Philippines would be at war because
Japan was Germany's ally. Besides, Japan had made its own war against China even before
Germany had struck in Europe.

We had read about Japan's machinations in other Far Eastern countries. We had been made
to believe that Singapore was unconquerable, that China was holding its own against Japan,
that the Dutch East Indies were preparing to fight, and that the ABCD (American, British,
Chinese and Dutch) powers in the Far East had forged a chain of steel around Japan. We
were made to believe that Japan's navy was no match against the combined Far Eastern fleet
of America, Britain, China, and the Dutch.

In everything that we read, Japan was shown to be meek, conciliatory, and unwilling to go to
war against the combined might of the ABCD powers. Japan, we had heard, had gone to the
extent of sending Kurusu and Nomura to President Roosevelt to seek some settlement to
maintain Asiatic peace. Mr. Roosevelt had told them that America would fight unless Japan
made concessions. Would Japan dare fight America? Not according to what we were reading
ill American publications. Now Japan had struck.

After a hasty breakfast, I gave orders to issue arms and ammunition to the men of the
Engineer Battalion. The men busied themselves cleaning their rifles and getting them ready for
use. The rest of our equipment was packed; the men were put in readiness to move out. At
about 10:30 a.m., the 41st Division received its orders to move out. Our destination was
Palico, Batangas. We arrived at the bivouac area assigned to us at about 7:30 that night. We
slept on the sides of the road.

The next day, we heard that all the important airfields in Luzon had been bombed and that the
bombing was so effective that even camouflaged hangars were hit. Clark Field, Nichols Field,
Camp Murphy, Zablan Field, McKinley, and Stotsenberg were all bombed. Enemy planes had
strafed everything they saw on the premises. The news made us feel that at any time the
enemy could be landing in our sector. We were told to prepare our positions in a hurry and to
beware of fifth columnists.

The succeeding days for the 41st Division were feverish with activity. Division Headquarters
was set up in Palico. Officers and men reported as soon as they were inducted.

Our Infantry regiments were assigned sectors for beach defense. The 42nd Infantry was
assigned the sector from Looc to Lian, the 41st Infantry from Lian to Lemery. The 43rd Infantry,
on being mobilized, was assigned as Division Reserve. The Artillery was assigned positions
also. The 41st Engineers were ordered to place barbed wire, natural obstacles, and land mines
on the beaches and to prepare the bridge in the area for demolition.
A battery of 155 mm. guns was emplaced at Nasugbu Bay to support our Division. The
Philippine Army Corps of Engineers, additionally, was ordered to construct gun bases for
10inch guns at Santiago Point to cover our Verde Island Passage.

Methodically, the 41st Division went about organizing the necessary defenses on the beaches.
In the loose sand, revetted with bamboo, coconut fronds, or anything at all that would keep the
sand from slipping, foxholes were dug. It was not an easy task. Camouflaging the positions-
was not difficult as there was enough vegetation along the beaches, but the camouflage had to
be changed continuously.

To get a better field of fire, artillery pieces were placed on the sand which had to be covered
with mats of bamboo or coconut leaves to keep the wheels from sinking. Artillery pieces were
placed on hills that had no trails. The men of the 41st Division were indeed working very hard.
For many of the Division's newly inducted men, war had only one meaning. That was, staking
their lives for their country and fighting to kill so as not to be killed. They envisioned war as
being romantic, dramatic, heroic. So far on the beaches of Batangas, they were not sampling
this. They were experiencing nothing but hard physical effort, sweat, and fatigue.

From morning till night, they dug holes in the sand. As they dug they hoped they would not
strike water before the holes got deep enough. They dug and dug during the day only to have
the tide at night wash away the holes they worked on so hard. It seemed all they ever did was
dig. No wonder, I thought, that it has been written, fortifications are tactics dug in.

Occasionally, while the men worked, a lone Japanese patrol plane would fly over our lines.
They would stop digging to shoot at the plane which ignored the firing. They were
subsequently ordered not to shoot at the planes.

As we worked on the beaches in Batangas, we received much news of the war. We read about
it in G2 (Intelligence) reports from Corps Headquarters and the morning papers. We also heard
a lot of rumors about the war but it was about the war in some distant place.

Men returning from Fort McKinley where they had been sent for specialist training also brought
us news about the war. They arrived with vivid reports of the bombing and strafing of McKinley,
Camp Murphy, and Nichols Field. They told of how our troops in trenches fired back at the
strafing planes and acquired steady nerves; how at Murphy, when Japanese planes bombed
the barracks, our men had run to the parade grounds, assumed antiaircraft firing positions, and
shot down an enemy plane. They told of how brutally and indiscriminately the Japanese had
bombed and strafed Nichols Field and the adjacent town of Paranaque; of how they left the
roads littered with the dead.

If news was plentiful in Batangas, so was food. Though the men worked hard they did not feet
it because they got three good meals a day. If one was a friend of the supply sergeant or the
mess sergeant, he also got a midnight snack when he went on guard duty. Fresh vegetables,
milk, sugar, canned and fresh fruits, bread, rice, meats, fresh and canned fish, coffee, even
chocolate to drink, were available. Some days, some of the men got a pass to go to town at
night and got to have ice cream or beer. If, as Napoleon said, men march and fight on their
stomachs, the 41st Division was getting to be an efficient fighting unit.

By 16 December 1941, all of our units had finished preparing their positions. Here is a view of
how the beaches were to be defended.

Should the enemy make the mistake of deciding to land in Nasugbu and Balayan, they would
receive a hot reception. As soon as they made the decision to land, their planes would come
bombing and and their naval guns would hurl steel on the beaches. Our men would stay in
their remarkably protective foxholes where bombs and strafing could do them no harm unless
hit directly. Our men would stay under cover while the enemy wasted their steel. Surely, some
of our men would get scared but most of them were young, enthusiastic, and courageous. If
ten out of every fifty should get scared, the other forty would quickly bring the ten back to line.

As soon as the Japanese landing boats coming up, say, at Nasugbu, got within range, our
155s would fire at them. Coming even closer, our 75s would find them beautiful targets set off
by the blue sea and some of them would sink. Those that came close enough would be
greeted by our machine gun, and then by rifle, fire. As their other boats, such as their
flatbottomed ones, came nearer the shore, they would strike the stakes we had set in the
water. They would be steady for a while and the firing from the beaches by our men would be
more accurate. If the boats should succeed in pushing the stakes down, then the enemy would
run ashore and fire back. We would retaliate from the lush vegetation and coconut plantation
where we were. The enemy would find it hard to locate our soldiers right away.

Enemy squads that ran forward would step on land mines we had planted. Those who tried to
find concealment in the thick hedges near them would find themselves entangled in barbed
wire fences camouflaged with thick-thorned bushes and branches. And before they became
aware of their situation, they would be picked up by our machine guns.

If after several costly attempts, the Japanese should, however, succeed in making a landing,
they would find the hills and rolling country beyond the beaches alive with our men, for our
men who were on the beaches, if ordered, would withdraw to the hills where would keep up the
fight. In the brown-skinned Filipino soldier in khaki shorts, sport shirt and guinit (palm leaf)
helmet, armed with a caliber .30 Enfield rifle and a U.S. Army bayonet, the Japanese would
find a worthy opponent, a determined foe who would fight to the death.

From the 41st Division sector on the beaches, there were three routes the Japanese could
take inland. Each of them, from Nasugbu, Calatagan, or Balayan-led to Palico. These roads
traversed rolling country cut by numerous streams some of which had deep gorges over which
steel, timber and stone, or concrete bridges had been built. In many places, the roads were an
open cut through a hill as deep as thirty feet.

Nasugbu had the deepest approach. It had a concrete wharf nearing completion. If our troops
had to move back from the beaches, the wharf would be blown up so the enemy could not use
it. This would retard if not altogether stop the landing of enemy artillery, tanks, and equipment
too heavy for their landing boats.

All along the Nasugbu route, bridges would be demolished to stop the enemy. All likely cuts
through the hills would be blocked by antitank obstacles. These obstacles would be covered by
infantry fire. If, in spite of everything, the enemy should succeed in getting to Palico, there
would be a beautiful demolition job on the twospan, sixtyfoot deep, steel Palico bridge.

Unlike the Nasugbu beach, the Calatagan and Balayan beaches were shallow and receded
slowly. They had no wharf facilities. There, the flatbottomed enemy landing boats might be able
to come ashore but not the deeperdraught ones.

If the enemy should take the Calatagan and Balayan routes, they would find many shorterspan
bridges over deep gorges. The demolition of the bridges by our Engineers would materialize
with split-second precision. And before the enemy could get far enough away from the
beaches, they would have been subjected to extremely heavy losses costing far more than
their successful landing and advance would have been worth.

This, then, is how the beaches of Batangas would have been defended by the 41st Division.

But was the Philippine Islands -- the whole country -- in fact defensible? There were those who
maintained that the Philippines, being an archipelago, was not. General Douglas MacArthur,
however, believed that the Philippines could be defended precisely through the defense of its
beaches. On the strength of his statement regarding the defensibility of the Philippines, the
plans for defending Luzon and the other more important strategic Philippine islands had been
made.

CHAPTER 2

The 41st Division

The 41st Division of the Philippine Army was headed by Brigadier General Lim, the first Filipino
to graduate from the United States Military Academy at West Point. General Lim was of
Tagalog stock and was big and tall. As his name suggested, he had Chinese blood, fact further
attested to by his Chineselooking eyes. His square jaws showed decisiveness, his chin
aggressiveness, his small eyes a faculty for minute observation. He was usually positive, frank,
and outspoken. He disliked people with an inferiority complex and expected his men to be as
frank and outspoken as he was.

After graduation from West Point, General Lim was commissioned as a lieutenant in the
Philippine Scouts, U.S. Army. He served with the Scouts until he retired as a lieutenant colonel.
While with the Philippine Scouts, he attended all the service schools American infantry officers
then were required to attend including the General Officers' School, the Command and Staff
School, and the Army College. When the Philippine Army was organized, he was
commissioned as a brigadier general and assigned as Chief of its War Plans Division. Later, he
became the Deputy Chief of Staff of the Philippine Army.

Upon the induction of the Philippine Army into the United States Armed Forces in the Far East
(USAFFE), General Lim was assigned the 41st Division. At the opening exercises of the
Divisional Staff School in Baguio in October 1941, he predicted that by the end of November
1941 the Philippines would be at war.

Like the staffs of the other divisions of the Philippine Army, General Lim's staff was made up of
young officers. The average age of his senior officers was about thirtyfour years.

Major Domaoal, his Chief of Staff, was mildspoken, reserved, but on aggressive when
necessary. Major Domaoal was as big and as tall as General Lim. As a Philippine
Constabulary officer Major Domaoal had served in every part of Philippines. When the
Philippine Army was organized, he became a Philippine Army officer. His Philippine Army
assignments included being Commandant of the School for Reserve Commission at Camp
Keithly in Lanao. He was probably the oldest of the Division's staff officers and was respected
by all. His "What's wrong with us, someone is not functioning" was enough to get all the staff
officers working at their best.

G1 (Personnel) was Captain Montemayor; G2 (Intelligence) was Captain Campo. Both had
been aides to General Lim. G3 (Operations) was Captain Ojeda. G4 (Supplies) was Captain
Montelibano.

The Division Quartermaster was Captain Chioco who had been a sugar technologist for the
Canlubang Sugar Estate. The Division Surgeon was Major Solidum. The Division Signal
Officer was Captain Chong. I was the Division Engineer.

The 41st Division was made up of about 8,000 men who were mostly reservists from the
provinces of Rizal, Cavite, Laguna, and Batangas. Some were from Mindoro and Palawan.

Rizal, Cavite, Laguna, and Batangas were among the eight provinces that initially participated
in the Philippine Revolution against Spain. Men from these provinces were known to be
independent, reliable, and courageous. Many of the men of the 41st Division who were from
these provinces were independent farmers working on small landholdings. They had an added
impetus for fighting in that they were fighting for their homes. The composition of the 41st
Division also included government and private employees, students, and professionals.

Four years earlier in 1937, most of the men of the 41st Division had received an amount of
military training to give them some preparation to answer their country's call at short notice.
The rest received their training later. At the time they were mobilized, almost all of the men
were engaged in their normal occupations. Following their induction into the Division, they had
to be retrained to become professional soldiers.

Very few of the inductees had ever fired their rifles. None had had any combat practice firing.
But these men were the descendants of fighters who in the late 1890s had risen against Spain
because they could not stand oppression. They were men born and reared under American
rule which meant a life of individual liberty and relative comfort. It was hoped that in spite of
their meager training, they would have enough fortitude, courage and patriotism to fight to the
extent of giving up their lives for their country if this became necessary. Later events fulfilled
this hope.

CHAPTER 3

Waiting

By 24 December 194 1, the men of the 41st Division on the beaches in Batangas were ready
and waiting for the enemy. But thus far, the small amount of action in our sector had been of
slight significance.

One day, for instance, a boat without a hoisted flag came steaming into Nasugbu Bay. Two
shots from our 155s, one short and one over, caused that steamer to hoist a commercial flag
and steam away. At Fortune Island and Santiago Point, orders were given to put out the
lighthouse lights there. Before the order could be executed, a plane came out of the darkness
and machinegunned them out.

One dark night in Lemery, a freak shooting incident occurred. The sentry, noticing something
out on the sea moving inland, had shouted for it to halt. Receiving no response, he repeated
his order. Whatever was moving continued to make its way toward shore. When it swam
through the barbed wire that was not under the water, the sentry had fired. Soon the beach
was alive with orange spurts pouring into the sea as others among the men surprised by the
sudden shot in the silent darkness joined in the shooting.

The Artillery, thinking they were seeing huge silhouettes in the distance, also fired some shots.
In the morning, it was found that what the Artillery had shot at were islands. In the previous
evening's excitement, the islands had looked like they were moving.

But what had the sentry shot at? He had shot a tortoise. That day his unit had turtle soup.

Keeping our eyes open as we waited on the beaches of Batangas, we kept track of enemy
reconnaissance planes that kept flying over our area on their way to somewhere else. Once,
we saw all of fifty-four Japanese planes going by. We later learned that they were headed for
Manila and Cavite which they bombed.

We also observed two enemy transports off in the distance from Nasugbu approaching south
past Fortune Island into Verde Island Passage each escorted by two other transports. Later,
we heard of surprise enemy landing operations in Mauban which resulted in a disaster for the
USAFFE division there. And we heard of enemy landings in Atimonan; of enemy advances
along Tiaong, Sariaya, Luisiana, and San Pablo; of our failure to demolish the bridge at
Pagbilao which gave the Japanese access to points beyond without delay.

While we waited, we continued to receive a supply of newspapers. We saw pictures of Jesse

Villamor receiving the Distinguished Service Cross from General MacArthur for the daring he
and his men showed when they were attacked at Zablan Field. We read of how Villamor,
finding his guns jammed after taking off, had gone back, fixed them, gone up into the air again,
and blasted an enemy plane; of how Gozar, whose gun also had jammed, tried to ram his
plane into an enemy aircraft. We envied these men the opportunity to fight that they already
had.

Regretfully, we read of how Manlimas, Aclan, and Bosch had gone up in rickety Primary
Training planes and broken up a formation of twentyseven Japanese bombers and had gotten
killed in action.

We read about the British defense of Singapore, of how the Japanese in Thailand had poured
down through the Isthmus of Kra to the Federated Malay States, of the gallant fighting in Kuala
Lumpur, of the successful Japanese penetration into the Straits of Johore and the courageous
defense that the British put up there.

CHAPTER 4
Withdrawal from Batangas

On 24 December 1941, General Lim called the 41st Division staff to a conference in Nasugbu,
Batangas, where the Advance Command Post was located.

I received the news as I was making my way back to Division Headquarters following my
inspection of our Division's fortifications. I had checked the lines chosen; the siting of foxholes;
our sector of fire, machine gun emplacement, artillery positions, and reserve lines; and all the
other details that figure in making a position strong or weak. I had made the inspection not as
the Division Engineer which I no longer was. I had just been made the Division's Inspector
General.

Driving back to Division Headquarters now, I found our men who were on bridge sentry duty
alert. Also very alert were the Volunteer Guards, a volunteer civilian organization which posted
men on the road who stopped all vehicles every hundred yards to investigate what was in
them.

Arriving at Nasugbu, I proceeded to the camouflaged barn which was our Advance Division
Command Post. It was located in a cowshed which had been cleaned and furnished inside but
left untouched outside. The vines that grew along the walls up to the roof presented to the air
observer an innocent shack that housed cows. To complete the camouflage, two cows were
left grazing in the fields.

I reported to Major Domaoal and found out that General Lim had called the conference
because a Major Barnett of General Parker's headquarters had arrived to find out whether the
41st Division was ready to move out.

During the conference, Major Barnett informed us that orders for all troops in position in
Southern Luzon to move out that night and proceed to Bataan had been issued to our
Division's Liaison Officer with Corps Headquarters. Our Liaison Officer had not yet arrived.
Major Barnett who was with the Motor Transport Unit said seventy trucks were being loaned to
the 41st Division for its withdrawal.

Consequently, General Lim issued orders for the withdrawal of the 41st Division out of
Batangas, to Bataan. Captain Ojeda worked out the details of this order with all the next
echelon commanders. All of our units were to move out immediately except for the 42nd
Infantry which was to be the covering shell and therefore would withdraw later. A company of
Engineers was attached to the 42nd Infantry to demolish bridges in case it became necessary
to do so.

The unit commanders were told to report as soon as they had assembled their troops so the
trucks could be sent ]forward. The field unit commanders who had troops spread out over
sectors as wide as fifteen kilometers along the beaches had a hard time doing this.

Thus, the men on the beaches gave up the positions they had carefully prepared. Assembling
in the dark, obeying orders given in hushed tones, they started to move out to their designated
assembly areas. From Lemery to Balayan, Calatagan, Nasugbu, and Looc they moved by
motor and/or on foot to assigned new positions in Bataan, passing through Manila.
As they obeyed orders, they wondered. Why were they getting out? Where were they going?
None of them knew

Soon, equipped with their belongings, all the food they could carry, their bayonets and rifles,
the men walked along the beaches, through rice fields, along the trails, onto barrio roads.
Sweating, panting, questioning, they arrived at their assembly areas.

We did not have a sufficient number of trucks so, the hot, sweaty, panting bodies had to be
accommodated, packed closely, in whatever trucks we had. The men sat, squatted, or stood,
wherever and as best they could.

They wanted to know why they were leaving the relative comfort of the beaches where they
had worked so hard. They wanted to know why they were going away from their homes and
families. Were they being sent to fight somewhere else? Would they not, after all, be defending
their homes? Who would defend their homes?

Tomorrow, they thought, was Christmas Day. They were going to be deprived of Christmas.
Could not moving out be delayed? On Christmas Day, they wanted to be with their wives,
sweethearts, parents, and children who they knew were waiting for them to come home on
Christmas Eve.

Many of the men had not gone home since October intending to be with their loved ones at
Christmastime. They had to accept the fact that this was not going to happen now.

At about 10:30 p.m., the column started to move out. Except for the drone of the motors there
was quiet everywhere. The trucks, spaced at a distance of fifty yards, traveled with their lights
off on a lone trail. Steadily in the dark, past small villages that were brightly lighted as people
cooked for Christmas, the column moved attracting children who came to the road to look at
the huge shadows made by the passing trucks.

Leaving the rolling hills of Batangas, the column continued on until it came to the zigzags near
Cavite. There, the drivers had to be doubly careful. Even in bright daylight the zigzags were
not very safe to travel on.

On one side of the road was a tall, steep hillside covered with trees and undergrowth. On the
other were deep ravines which dropped down a hundred feet. The men knew the barely paved
road they were traveling on was a dangerous one. Any mistake by the driver could be fatal.

Early on the trip, the men had wanted to know why they were moving out. It was hard for them
to understand why. All they could think of was that they had had a nice enough time on the
beaches, they had been close to their homes, and soon it would be Christmas. They had
talked among themselves about how Christmas was spent in their respective hometowns; of
houses brightly lighted with parols (colorful bambooandpaper lanterns of diverse shapes and
designs that hang outside Filipino windows at Christmastime); of people going to early morning
Mass.

They had envisioned the people going to Mass. The old, and older, women in their newest
clothes wearing shawls on their heads and carrying rosaries and prayer books in their hands.
The young women and girls with smiling faces and twinkling eyes dressed in their Sunday best
wearing becoming coiffures under gauzy veils and engaging in lively chatter. The young men
likewise attired in the latest fashions escorting the happy, pretty young ladies. In the darkness
of the trucks, the men had shared cherished remembrances of eating sweet meats sold in little
lighted stands on the roadside at Christmastime; of joy, laughter, and peace.

In their homes tonight, the men knew their loved ones were thinking of them, too, and waiting
for Christmas Day when they thought their men would be home to tell about their life in the
war. In past years, many of the men had always made it a point to be home for Christmas.
They wanted to be home this Christmas Day.

Thus did the men share their thoughts until they realized they were on the dangerous zigzags.
With this realization, their thoughts settled on more immediate things: the dangers of their
moving out, the dangers of tomorrow.

Where, they wondered, was the enemy? Not behind them; they knew there was no enemy
there. Before them, on the roads to where they were going, would the enemy be there? Would
the enemy inn scores of planes strafe the moving trucks, or would the enemy inn trucks and
tanks all of a sudden meet them and fire at them? What were their chances of fighting back?

The night drew on as our trucks labored draggingly forward past the zigzags, on to the
boundary of Batangas and Cavite, and then to Tagaytay from where we had started. Then, the
dark of the night started to give way to the first blush of dawn. Off to the east, the zodiacal light
was brightening the sky; the stars were slowly twinkling themselves into nothingness.
Somewhere in the forest, cocks crowed in the distance. In the lonely shacks in the valley
below, lights began to be turned on. People were starting to cook breakfast.

Now, the topmost leaves of the trees in the forest were bright where the sun's rays lit them. Life
was stirring again. Monkeys started to romp about in the trees; chattering, gibbering. Birds
chirped and hopped in the branches. What had been grotesque shadows in the forest became
giant trees in clothes of brown and green. Weeds and grass showed themselves, too, with the
eastern sky having now become definitely bright and decorated with lowhanging clouds of red,
orange, gold, and russet.

As the first darts of sunlight pierced the forest gloom, our hearts awakened. Gone for the
moment were the uncertainty and anxiety of the dark. The men could breathe now. Forgotten
was the apprehension of what tomorrow might bring. Now it was daylight. Tomorrow had come.
Nothing bad could happen now. Today was Christmas Day!
CHAPTER 5

Christmas Day 1941

At about 6:00 a.m. on Christmas Day 1941, our column passed our nowdeserted Tagaytay
Cantonment Area. Where before 8 December men had been busy in that camp learning to be
soldiers, now only a few guards could be seen. The rest of Tagaytay was deserted and most of
the barrios were still asleep. Only our trucks and cars and occasional churchgoers were to be
found on the road.

I went to my house which was located on the outskirts of Silang near Tagaytay to see my
family and say goodbye. The children were asleep, but my wife was up.

“Gening," I told her, "we've been ordered to get out of Batangas to go somewhere. I don't know
where we're going as yet but we're going there in a hurry. It seems the Japanese have
advanced faster than we expected. Unless the Division gets out immediately, we may be cut
off."

"What should the children and I do?" she asked. Her options were to go to Manila or stay in
Silang.

Before I could give her a hurried reply, Mayor Quiamson of Silang with whom I had become
friends, and his father, Capitan Pepe, one of the town's leading citizens, came to our door.

"Is your Division really leaving, Captain?" he asked. "We saw your trucks all loaded up with
your men."

I told him we were moving out to an unknown destination.

"Are you taking your family with you?" he asked.

It was the perfect time to ask him if he would look after my family because my wife decided to
stay in Silang. Promptly, wholeheartedly, he replied that he would.

"Don't worry about your family," his father added. "We'll take them with us , wherever we go.
Do not worry yourself. You have bigger things to do."

The old man gave me his blessing, then he and the mayor left. I turned to my wife who was
crying.

“What shall we do?" she asked.

"I'll go ahead to Manila," I told her. "I'll find a way to communicate with you. If you don't hear
from me within a week, you'll have to be on your own."

I went to kiss my children goodbye. Four little girls I was leaving behind. They looked sweet
and angelic in their sleep. I bent and kissed each child -- little Sally, sweet Mina, cute Baby,
and capable Nayda. No one stirred except Nayda, the oldest, who awoke and said, "Why,
Papa, why are you here so early? We expected you yesterday because it was Mina's birthday."
I kissed her again and hugged her and told her to go back to sleep. I told her I was going away.

"Where to, Papa?"

"I'm going to work," I said. She said no more and soon was asleep again.

I went back to my wife and told her not to worry about me, not to believe any news about me
unless I myself wrote about it. I did not want her to worry without cause. I was going away to
fight in the war and we both knew death was an unavoidable possibility. I embraced and kissed
her then I left.
Getting into my car, I resumed my journey. In Las Pinas in the adjacent province of Rizal, I had
my driver stop at the church there so I could go in to pray. In Las Pinas, I ran into Captain
Ojeda, our G3.

"Where are we going, Doni?" I asked, knowing we were going to the province of Bataan, but
not knowing exactly where.

Abucay, Bataan, he said, was our destination.

As my driver and I made our way onward, we met many trucks, both civilian and military. They
were moving in all directions, each with a mission of its own. At the intersection in Paranaque,
we found many burned houses. While we saw no bodies lying around, the stench of
decomposing flesh was in the air.

From Paranaque, I proceeded to Manila. Manila was a ghost town. On Taft Avenue which was
usually busy even on Sunday mornings, only a handful of pedestrians were to be seen.

At the nearby marketplace, the stalls were almost all empty. Just a very few housewives were
about. I went to my mother's house which was not very far from there and found only the
caretaker who told me the family had evacuated to Rizal. My older brother Hermy's house was
also deserted. I had hoped to ask Hermy to contact my wife and help her.

Reaching, Plaza Lawton, my driver and I heard the air raid shrieking its shrill warning from the
roof of the Post Office building in Manila. I had him stop the car under a tree and we got out.
The men in the other army vehicles that were around also looked for shelter. The civilians
jumped into the ditches by the road. Soon, three Japanese planes headed south flew over us.
The danger was over.

I had my driver drive on. We crossed Santa Cruz Bridge, then headed to Plaza Goiti, and then
Avenida Rizal. All three places which ordinarily would have been very busy were as inactive as
the rest of Manila that I had seen so far today. What struck me the most the absence of the
horsedrawn carromatas and carretelas which always cluttered the streets of Manila and were a
nuisance and hazard to the motorists. No street cars were running either. The few people were
about today were travelling on foot. The army vehicles were the kings of the road.

Arriving at the 41st Division's assembly point outside Manila, I found our Division vehicles in
the process of reassembling. We were to travel as units; the units were to leave great
distances between them. Our intermediate destination was San Fernando in the province of
Pampanga. There, we were to reassemble one more time before our final stretch to Abucay,
Bataan.

As we departed and then moved on, the people in the towns and barrios that we passed
waved hats and hands in greeting. Grown-ups and children wished us well shouting
"Mabuhay!" (the heartiest Filipino cheer meaning "Long Live!"). And they raised their hands
showing the victory sign.

It was refreshing and encouraging to see the attitude of the civilians. At no other time had this
generation of Filipinos been as united as now.
Before the outbreak of the war, the Filipino masses had been concerned mainly with their
individual lives and homes. Thoughts about the rest of the country generally did not occupy
their minds. Social unrest was confined to one or two provinces. The more prosperous areas
bothered only about themselves.

The Filipino common man cared little for national affairs, much less for international affairs. To
him, the war in Europe was the bad luck of the Europeans. Why should he worry about the
Germans, the English, the French, the Russians, the Italians? They were a bunch of white
peoples quarrelling among themselves. He had his own fields to cultivate, his family to care for,
his God to worship.

But now the Filipinos were at war. They knew it not only because the newspapers told them so.
They knew it because for some time now the men of the barrios—fathers, sons, and brothers
had been called to report to the big Philippine Army training camps in the provinces. They
knew it because now they were directly involved.

The men who had gone to the training camps had gone there barefooted and in their old
clothes. An hour later, they emerged in brand new khaki uniforms and regulation leather shoes.
On visits to their homes, these men had told of the preparations for war; of their hope that in
spite of all the preparations, war would not, after all, come. They had hoped that someday with
the war not having come they would be sent home with the shoes and clothes that had been
issued to them. They would wear them for working in the fields.

Then, suddenly, the men in the training camps were not allowed to visit their homes any
longer. The town elders knew that war indeed had come. Towns that had electric service were
ordered to conduct blackout practice. Cars moving on the roads were told to dim their lights or
to use no lights at all. Without any presaging signs understandable to the Filipino common
masses, Japan had struck.

Strange planes with two red disks on their wings, more planes than the masses had ever seen
before in Philippine skies, came flying freely overhead. And the masses heard the unfamiliar
sound of loud explosions, explosions that raised smoke and dust and set Clark Field, Nichols
Field, and Camp Murphy on fire.

With the awareness that war had come, an intense feeling of national oneness arose among
the Filipino people. No longer was the Filipino an individual who cared only for himself and his
family. He and the great masses of other Filipinos around him now were one. They were one
nation with a common enemy, a common aim, and the common hope of victory. The
khakiuniformed young man in the guinit helmet carrying a rifle and a bayonet became the
symbol of their unity.

The Filipino common man had no doubt that the Filipino soldiers fighting for him would be
victorious. Those soldiers were the descendants of the brave soldiers of the late 1800s who
armed with nothing more than bolos (longbladed sizable knives) had risen in revolution against
the tyranny of Spain and won. He firmly believed they would do no less fighting the invading
Japanese.

Besides, the Filipino common man considered the Japanese to be his inferior. Without any way
of knowing about the Japanese people other than from his own limited personal experience
and observation, he had little respect, if any, for them.

To him, they were all like the Japanese he had come in contact with: vulgar halo-halo (a fruit,
gelatin, crushed ice and milk dessert) refreshment parlor operators; lowly apa (ice cream cone)
makers and peddlers; charcoal retailers; carpenters and masons. The Japanese to him were
short, squat, bowlegged, shortsighted people who did not know how to dress. And they were
aloof, clannish, and selfish.

If the Japanese was a halohalo vendor, the Japanese was a seller of cheap refreshments and
adulterated foodstuff. If he was an apa maker and distributor, he was a spy who travelled by
bicycle to remote barrios in the guise of selling his apa. If he was a charcoal retailer, he was
dirty, a poor bargainer, and probably also a spy paid the Japanese government; for how else
could he manage to make a living since he sold just a few gantas (a measure of grain and
other small, dry materials) of charcoal daily because he was not well patronized? If the
Japanese was a carpenter or a mason, he was efficient, hardworking, and knew his trade; but
he was insolent, aloof, selfish, and would not help his Filipino assistants learn the trade.

The Filipino common man knew that the Japanese in the Philippines lived among themselves
and did not mingle with the Filipinos. They ate Japanese food, lived as though they were in
Japan, and worshipped what to Filipinos were strange gods. Because of their clannish ways,
the Filipinos became suspicious of them, learned to avoid them, and finally to despise them.

In the numerous fist fights that a Filipino had with a Japanese, the Filipino invariably came out
better. Consequently, the Filipinos did not think much of the Japanese as a man, fighter, or
friend.

In Balayan, Batangas, therefore, when fiftyfour Japanese airplanes suddenly appeared in the
sky one day, the people who were in the church attending Mass -- not knowing the airplanes
were Japanese -- came out to cheer. Instinctively, but ignorantly, they assumed the airplanes
were American. They could not conceive of the Japanese being capable of producing such
sturdylooking airplanes.

Japanese to them were imitators and lowquality tradesmen; the trademark Made in Japan a
sure sign that a commodity was cheap and inferior. Then, realizing and accepting that the
airplanes were Japanese, they scattered in all directions to take cover. They were just as sure
“those goddamn Saps will machine gun us civilians.”

In direct contrast to the arrogant contempt that the Filipino common man had for the Japanese
was his unquestioning faith in American strength and power. Despising the one, respecting the
other, and believing strongly in the Filipino soldier, the Filipinos did not think they could lose
their war with Japan.

Thus -- as our column of trucks passed the villages and towns on our way to San Fernando,
Pampanga -- did the civilian population root for us. We relished the feeling that it gave us.
Their cheering became a stimulant for greater effort.

They were telling us they expected us to defend them. They looked to us for protection. We
made a solemn resolve not to let them down, to be worthy of their trust, to be the worthy sons
of our fathers.
In San Fernando, Pampanga, we came upon the Division Headquarters of the 1st Regular
Division which had been committed in Mauban, Tayabas. I greeted Lieutenant Perez who had
served at Camp Murphy while I was there.

"We heard about Mauban, Tony," I said.

"We had a bad time, Sir," he replied, "As you know, our division was the last to be organized.
We did not have time to get ready. We left Murphy for Mauban and would have distributed
arms there. But the night we got there, the Japanese had already started landing. We did what
we could under the circumstances."

From San Fernando, I went on to Guagua in Pampanga and found many soldiers milling
around the plaza. I had my driver stop the car to find out what the trouble might be. There was
no trouble at all. A group of pretty Pampanguenas (girls from the province of Pampanga) had
set up a canteen and were serving coffee and sandwiches to the tired hungry soldiers who
were marching to Bataan. The soldiers ate, drank, and feasted their eyes on the pretty girls.

CHAPTER 6

Abucay, Bataan

Abucay, the 41st Division's destination on Christmas Day 1941, was preceded on the
provincial road coming from San Fernando, Pampanga by the little fishing town of Mabatang.
On either side of the road approaching Mabatang were fish ponds extending from the shores
of Manila Bay into the interior. Then, there was the town proper with its small thatchedroofed
nipa shacks.

Farther up the road stood a small chapel of stone masonry that had three bells on its front wall.
Weatherbeaten with its mortar crumbling in spots, the church was built by the Spaniards a long
time ago. Beyond it was the other end of the town; and then, Abucay.

This Christmas Day, people were absent from the village of Mabatang. Certainly in less
troubled times, the large group of people who there would have been visiting friends and
relatives on Christmas Day. Little children would have been going to their godparents' homes
to wish them "Merry Christmas" and to receive gifts and their godparents' blessing. Today, only
a few people, mostly older men, stood near the road or peeked out of windows as our trucks
passed by. The fisherfolk must have known that their homes were in peril and gone south or to
the mountains.

Abucay had nipa shacks like those found in Mabatang and it had a few houses made of timber
with galvanized iron roofing. When we reached the town plaza -- normally the center of town
life -- it became evident that the people of Abucay also had left town.

Ordinarily, early in the morning any day in Abucay, some people would have been going to
church to hear Mass. Later in the day, the plaza would have become active as housewives did
their marketing. There would have been small vendors with their wares spread out; and people
buying, selling, haggling over prices, quarrelling, gossiping.
In the evening, the plaza would have come alive as children played, and chased one another.
The old men of the town, squatting or sitting in chairs would have been talking about the war,
politics, economics, and just about anything. And some of them would have been pitting Mang
Pedro's puti (white cock) against Mang Juan's pula (red cock) and betting accordingly in a
game of cockfighting.

Today, none of these usual activities were happening in Abucay. There were a lot of people
moving around in the plaza but all of them were soldiers: Filipino soldiers in fatigue clothes and
cap, or khaki shorts, shortsleeved shirts, and guinit helmets; American soldiers in regulation
U.S. Army uniforms with canvas leggings and steel helmets.

Most of the Filipino soldiers who were there belonged to the 41st Division. I saw only one
civilian, a pretty girl selling cigarettes and soft drinks in one corner of the church patio.

I had my driver drive around Abucay. Soon, we were on a timber bridge that spanned a river
that cut the town in half. Beyond this area was the older part of the town. There, the houses
were large, made of stone and old Philippine hardwood with roofs made of tile now covered
with moss, or of galvanized iron sheets that replaced the tile on the old roofs that had given in.
A little beyond there was the Hacienda Abucay Road which intersected the main road and ran
due west.

Going back to the plaza, I looked for other members of the 41st Division staff and found no
one. I had my driver park the car under a big tree and we waited. Suddenly, the church bells
rang a series of "bongs" in warning. "Take cover. Enemy planes!" some American soldiers
shouted.

Quickly, the plaza became deserted. The enemy planes flew over going east. After they had
passed, the church bells rang another series of "bongs" to indicate "All Clear." We had barely
come out when again the alarm was sounded. Again we ran for cover.

Thus, we of the 41st Division on arriving in Abucay, became part of the war. In Batangas, war
had not been war to us but a period of work during intervals of which we read about the war in
other places. Here, in Abucay, our job was to put up a defensive position and fight. On the
beaches in Batangas, we had prepared for the enemy and they did not come. Now it seemed
we had come to where we would surely get to fight them.

While my driver ate with other soldiers, I walked back to the timber bridge. and contemplated
the scenery and Abucay. Abucay was an old fishing town. The old part of the town with the
heavy stone houses and the church dated back to Spanish times. Those old buildings had
been witnesses to Spanish rule and oppression. Abucay had seen the Philippines rise in
revolution against Spain, and win. Those old houses which would soon crumble and burn were
monuments of Spanish domination in the Philippines, witnesses to injustice and tyranny.

With the passing away of Spanish rule in the Philippines, Abucay had grown. The newer
section of the town with the houses of light timber and galvanized iron roofing reflected the
trend of Philippine development under the Americans. While the old heavy stone buildings
symbolized the hard progress the Filipinos made under Spain, the newer, lighterbuilt houses
were a symbol of our speedy, comfortable, commonsense development under the United
States. Under American rule, Abucay and the Philippines had grown rapidly since 1900. Now
progress was stopped. With the coming of the Japanese, would Abucay and the Philippines
receive still another kind of development?

Lieutenant Kalaw, coming up the road, ended my musing. He informed me that our Division
Headquarters was along the road to Salian.

As I started to leave for Salian, I noticed that the 41st Engineer Battalion had arrived.
Lieutenant Tinio, the new Battalion Commander, joined me in my car. Together we drove to
Salian and reported to General Lim who ordered us to report to Colonel Fortier. Colonel Fortier,
Infantry, U.S. Army, was the senior American adviser of the 41st Division.

“He'll show you the line to be organized," General Lim said. “Start work right away."

I reported to Colonel Fortier; then he, Tinio, and I drove back to Mabatang. To the left of the
quaint chapel with the three bells, we turned onto a side street past a lot of houses into the
open fields where the rice which had just been harvested stood in stacks. We saw a battalion
or so of American soldiers digging foxholes and machine emplacements and camouflaging
them. Most of them had taken their shirts off and worked with their bare backs to the sun. They
chatted cheerfully as they worked. Beyond where they were was the Mabatang Trail.

Colonel Fortier, Tinio, and I walked through the fields north of the trail. Then under a tree,
Colonel Fortier spread out a map on which was traced our Main Line of Resistance. The line
on the map extended from the beaches of Manila Bay in Mabatang up to Mt. Natib.

He explained that from the beaches to where we were was the sector of the 31st Infantry,
Philippine Scouts. Beyond that, to the left and up to Mt. Natib, was to be our sector.

He explained at length how we were to organize a position; about all-around defense, islands
of defense, and areas covered by fire. He explained about reserve lines. Then he gave me the
map and told me to set limiting points between our regiments and to get the regiments to work
on organizing the ground.

Soon it was twilight and the clear blue sky of the afternoon had given way to a riot of red
shades as the sun in all its splendor dipped mightily into the China Sea. I left the fields north of
the Mabatang Trail and walked back to the town. As I did so, I found myself praying for
strength; for courage and fortitude to overcome the hardships that war was sure to be bringing
upon us. I prayed for peace, justice, and love of fellowmen; for the grim determination to
preserve for our progeny our rightful inheritance of a proper place under the sun. Thus, in the
midst of war, did Christmas Day 1941 end for me.

Early the next morning, I drove to Balanga, the capital of Bataan, to the Bataan Training Cadre
where our Division Command Post had been established. I reported the status of our Main
Line of Resistance to General Lim, then with Captain Ojeda went to the line to study it some
more.

Ojeda and I considered the general layout of the sector assigned to us and concluded that our
job of defending it would not be too difficult. It was full of rolling hills, dense vegetation, and
streams which would be to the advantage of the defensive.
One thing bothered us, however. Our left limiting point was the Triangulation Point on Mt.
Natib. That was about ten miles away. Ten miles seemed to us too wide a sector for one
division -- our Division -- to defend. We assumed other units would be assigned to take care of
part of the sector and returned to Balanga to report the result of our reconnaissance.

In Balanga, we found that our 43rd Infantry which had been relieved of reserve duties in
Tagaytay had started to arrive. Their job now was to organize part of our Main Line of
Resistance.

Also doing their part in organizing our Main Line of Resistance were our Engineers. They were
assigned to build roads and cut trails to the rear. And they had to build barbedwire obstacles.
Recruiting civilians to help with the construction of obstacles speeded up the work.

CHAPTER 7

The Old Negrito

On 28 December 1941, Captain Ojeda, Lieutenant Kalaw, and I were ordered to make a
reconnaissance of the Mt. Natib area. Our specific task was to locate the Triangulation Point
on the mountain. We set out early in the morning expecting to be back by nightfall.

We stopped to have lunch at noon somewhere in the densely vegetated area that we had to
traverse. Continuing on after resting we found ourselves in an area broken up by ridges and
ravines. Here and there among the tall trees, we saw small Negrito clearings fenced in by
bamboo pickets and planted with camote (sweet potato), corn, and tobacco. Our map showed
that we were nearing Bangcal. We expected Bangcal to be a village in the mountains, probably
a Negrito community.

As we walked through the forest, monkeys scared by our presence scampered for
concealment among the heavy foliage. Strange birds, large and small, in manycolored coats
flew away as we approached. Although it was early in the afternoon and it was hot, we did not
feel the heat as the trees shut out the direct rays of the sun and a gentle breeze stayed with
us.

Then we came upon an old grizzled Negrito with his bows and arrows. We greeted him; he
returned our greeting in Tagalog. We offered him American cigarettes one of which he puffed
and then smelled.

“Smells good," he said, "but it's too mild."

He offered us some of his homemade cigars which we tried. We found them to be very strong.

Where's Bangcal?" we asked him.

“Bangcal? Why, this is Bangcal," he said, gesticulating emphatically, signifying that where we
were was Bangcal.

For a while, we thought the Negrito might be senile for he looked very old and weatherbeaten.
His hair was all white. His skin was loose over muscles which must have been proud and
powerful in his youth.

“Where?”

"This is Bangcal," he repeated.

"Is there no barrio here?" we asked.

"Barrio?" The Negrito pointed with pride to the three houses that made up the barrio of
Bangcal.

We had not noticed the three houses for like all Negrito houses they were built like cages in
the treetops and accessed by the use of ladders made of vines or crosstrees spiked onto the
tree trunks. They were small oneroom affairs with windows on three sides and a door on the
fourth. The Negritos, considered the aborigines of the Philippines, lived simply, raising all the
food they needed.

The Negrito asked us a question we had not expected.

"Are the Japanese coming here, too?" he wanted to know.

"What? You know about the Japanese?" Kalaw asked.

"Why should I not know about them?" the old man answered. "Is it not true that there is war
because they came here to war on us? We in the mountains also know about things that
happen elsewhere. You ask if I know about the Japanese. Have I not seen them building
charcoal kilns in the mountains? I know about them and I do not like them." The old man
gestured eloquently as he spoke.

"Have you seen any of them around these mountains lately?" we asked.

"No, and I hope I do not see Japanese soldiers here in our village."

"What will you do if they come?"

"What will I do? Do I carry bows and arrows for decoration? As soon as I see them, I will call
my children and other relatives and we will fight them with our weapons. We know these
mountains. The Japanese do not. We know where to hide and ambush them. They will not see
us. We can shoot at them without their knowing where we are. You can shoot also, but your
guns make noise and the enemy will know where you are. Even if they see us, we can always
run. They will not be able to follow." The old man looked like he meant every word.

Without waiting for any comment from us, he continued. "You ask questions as if you and I
were not all Filipinos. Where are you from? You are Tagalogs. Do we not speak the same
language? Why are you fighting now? Is it not because a foreign people has come to make
trouble here?" The old man was convincing. We felt ashamed that we had inquired if he knew
about the Japanese. We changed the subject.
"How far is it to Mt. Natib?" we asked.

"You will find a trail there," he said, indicating the direction. "if you follow the trail and do not
turn right or left, you will be there after smoking five cigarettes continuously. It is not far." He
sized us up as he said this.

We thanked the old man and continued on our way. Ojeda lighted a cigarette. "Here's where
we start to reckon time," he said

As we walked on, the scenery stayed the same except for the ravines which became deeper.
In a clearing through which a stream flowed we found a few small coconut huts that looked like
resthouses Philippine Scout troops might have built for their maneuvers.

Then we came to a sign that said "To Hacienda Abucay." And we a second sign that said "To
Mt. Natib." The latter was the direction wanted. It was now close to 4:00 p.m. Feeling hot, we
bathed before going any farther. After smoking two more cigarettes, we saw Mt. Natib looming
majestically 1,280 feet above us. But we still had a long distance to go and we only had two
cigarettes left of the five the old man had said it would take us to smoke to travel the distance
to Mt. Natib.

The old man certainly did not puff as fast as we did, Ojeda and I thought; and he probably
measured the distance in terms of his homemade cigars. Was it simply that we were not as
strong, hardy, and fleetfooted as the fourfootone Negrito? We wondered.

“Looks to me like you'll each have to smoke a pack before we get to Natib," Kalaw, who did not
smoke, kidded me.

From the looks of Natib and the way we feel," Ojeda said, "we'll never finish smoking those
packs."

The trail to Mt. Natib went up steep inclines, down deep ravines, into shallow streams, and
then up again. Occasionally, we had to stop to catch our breath. At times we had to climb the
slopes on our hands and feet. And we had to hang on to vines while our feet sought a foothold.
Finally late in the afternoon, however, we were on the ridge that led to the summit.

About ready to collapse, we rested for a few minutes. The air was cool and we soon felt ready
to continue our ascent. A new nuisance began to trouble us. Leeches clinging to the damp
leaves attacked us. We would feel an itchy spot on our bodies and when we scratched it would
draw blood and a leech.

Soon it was dark and the moon had risen in the sky. Without our noticing it, night had fallen.
With the moon lighting the place, we studied the terrain around us.

It seemed foolish to us to try to defend these parts. It seemed useless to send men to put up
any kind of fixed defensive position in these mountain fastnesses in the jungle wilderness.
Only monkeys and wild birds would come here to fight, we thought.

We had been taught that the Japanese were mountain climbers and jungle fighters, but in this
virgin forest and terrain cut into ribbons by streams and ravines even they, it seemed to us,
would have to be unsuccessful.

No, we thought, monkeys, birds and the Japanese would stay here only if they were born or
hatched here. The Japanese would not come here to look for us and our troops. We did not
think they could get up here if they wanted to. We certainly did not know about Japanese
jungle fighting.

We continued to walk up the mountain until we came upon flat ground covered with moist
forest growth. A short distance away, we noticed something that looked like a triangulation
station. We concluded that we had gotten to our destination.

Convinced that the Japanese would not come to Natib to fight, we decided to return to
Balanga. We would recommend the use of strong positions to guard the trails and the use of
mobile reserves to aid any threatened defensive sector.

We had expected to be back in Balanga by nightfall on the day that we left there. But it was
after 11:00 a.m. the day after when we got back. We rendered our verbal report then went to
sleep, forgetting about Natib, Abucay, Mabatang, and the war. In the afternoon, Ojeda and I
had some ice cream. We felt we deserved it.

Later that day, the old Negrito's words came back to me.

"Why are you fighting now?" he had asked.

I knew I was fighting because it was my duty to defend my country, but up to now I had not had
a chance to stop to reflect on the details his question demanded.

"Is it not," the old man had said, "because a foreign people has come to make trouble here?"

As I reflected further on the matter I found myself engaged in a dialogue with myself.

"You're allowing yourself to be influenced by the old Negrito," one part of me said. "You say a
foreign foe has forcibly gained access to our country. Don't you realize you're an Oriental? Are
the Japanese not Orientals, too? Are you more related by blood, origin, and proximity to the
white-skinned Americans than you are, to the Japanese? Whose war is this, anyway? This is a
war between America and Japan. You've been led by America to believe that this war concerns
you, but this is not your war. This is America's war. You're fighting, sacrificing your life, for
America. Will America be grateful to you?"

"Who said this is America's war?" The other part of me responded. "It is true that Japan and
America are at war but this fight that we're engaged in now, is it America's fight? Whose
country is being despoiled? Whose countrymen are being killed? Whose homes are being
burned? Not America's. Ours! The world may not see it that way, but this is our war.

"Consider: A rich friend comes for a visit and stays in your house for the night. In the dead of
night, in your peaceful contented slumber, a thief breaks into your house to rob your friend and
perhaps kill him. The thief gains access into your dwelling by forcibly breaking down a window.
You're awakened by the noise. You see the housebreaker. He is armed. He threatens your
family, your most precious possessions, your treasures. Already he has killed your houseboy
who awoke and stood up to him. What do you do?

"Do you pretend to be asleep? Do you stay immobile in the dark? Do you say, 'This man is not
my enemy. It is my friend he really wants to rob.' Do you then go back to sleep? Or do you
grope in the dark for your bolo and with all your strength and determination strike so that the
thief's nefarious intentions are frustrated?

"You would not be a man, you would not even be an animal, if you did not fight back. You
would be without honor.

"For honor. This is why we're fighting now. We're fighting to defend our country's honor, our
country's most precious possession. We're fighting for our homes. It is not a question now of
whose war it is. It may be America's war, but whose people are being ravished? Not America's,
but ours."

"Words, eloquence, trite expressions!" the part of me that had spoken first insisted. "It is true
that Japan has come, but if we were not a friend of America, would Japan have come to wage
war here? Would Japan have come to fight us?"

"That I cannot say," the other part of me continued. "Maybe Japan would have come anyway;
maybe not. But that is conjecture. Let us not deal with conjectures. Let us consider facts. Let
us face the consummated fact that Japan is here and is running toward us to kill. I would like to
see the Filipino who runs away. Better to die confronting the enemy, than to run away and live.
For when honor is gone, we become mere flesh and bones and skin, and it would be better if
we were dead. We must aspire to greater things, look forward to a brighter future. Can we
hope to attain these if we are not ready to fight? In this existence, we have to fight for the
things we want."

“I still think it would be better not to continue to fight,” the part of me that started the dialogue
persisted. "Let us just look on while Japan and America fight. We can be prosperous in the
meantime.”

"Let us end this argument now," the now victorious other part of me said. "I have found my
answer and I am pleased with it. I would rather be killed knowing that I died for my country. I
would rather fight hoping for a brighter future of continued peace and contentment than give up
now and grow fat while the rest of the world fights to decide the fate of mankind.

"If in this war, I should be killed and by my death -- and that of thousands of Filipinos like me --
our children should reap a peaceful, fruitful existence in their time, then I shall die content.
America may or may not be grateful. That to me is immaterial. If her gratitude should mean
help for our children, that will be good. If she is not grateful, our consolation will be that by
shedding our blood, we helped to unify our countrymen as a people and upheld the honor of
our country."

Why are we fighting now? What are we fighting for? The old Negrito had asked. I had found
my answer.
 PART TWO
THE ABUCAY BATTLE LINE

CHAPTER 1

Getting Ready for Battle

New Year's Day 1942 found the 41st Division in Abucay busy fortifying its position. Foxholes on
the three main defensive lines were dug and camouflaged. Tactical and protective obstacles
were constructed. Automatic rifles and machine guns were assigned their sectors of fire.

Artillery was emplaced and ranges to probable targets registered. Trails had been cut and
roads for motor vehicles constructed. And we were relocating our Division Command Post --
from Balanga to the Hacienda Abucay Road, about four kilometers from our Main Line of
Resistance.

Our 42nd Infantry Regiment which had been our covering shell during the withdrawal from
Batangas had arrived. So had the 51st Division which received the assignment of organizing,
occupying, and defending the sector from the Hacienda Abucay canefields to Mt. Natib. This
unburdened us of the headache of defending Mt. Natib. What had bothered Ojeda and myself
-- of having our Division defend a ten milewide sector -- thus was resolved.

I did not spend much time at our Command Post. My work of supervising the organization of
the ground was not yet completed so I was on the line most of the time.

One day on the line I ran into Captain Saint of the 14th Engineers, U.S. Army. He was
checking for Corps Headquarters what I was checking for our Division. We walked the line
together for two days. When we parted he congratulated me on the excellent work that our
Division had done so far and on the fine spirit and high morale that he had observed among
our troops.

The latter was tested shortly after when Japanese planes began to bomb and strafe our troops
while they worked so that again and again they had to run for shelter. The solution to the
problem was to have them work at night by moonlight and rest during the day. They liked the
idea. It meant sweating less while they worked.

Walking down the line one night, I met the Battalion Commander of the 31st Infantry Battalion,
U.S. Army, the unit that was the closest to us. He said his men were packing up. They were
being relieved from the sector and were going forward to meet the enemy.

"Who'll relieve your unit?" I asked.

"The 57th Infantry, I think," he said. "I'm glad my unit's going ahead to meet the enemy before
the others in Bataan."

"Why?" I asked him.

"Captain," he said, "We Americans have to stop the enemy. By all that's right, we have to. This
is America's war. Those goddamn Japanese struck Pearl Harbor before declaring war. We'll
show them they can't do that and get away with it. We'll lick the daylights out of them. You wait
and see. We have to do so, us Americans. It doesn't seem right you Filipinos should do so
much fighting for us."
"I don't know about whose war this is, Major," I said. "You think it's America's war and we
Filipinos are helping you. But I believe -- and I think most of the Filipino soldiers do, too -- that
this is our war. We're fighting for our homes, our honor."

He seemed to understand what I was saying. "I'm glad you Filipinos feel that way," he said,
smiling. "Takes away the spirit of fighting when you're only pinchhitting, doesn't it? You just wait
till we get to those goddamn Japs!"

While our Division was preparing for combat, in other sectors various other units were already
meeting the enemy. On the Guagua-Porac line, for instance, the 21st Division held the
Japanese for three or four days as the enemy tried to cut in from Tarlac into Bataan.

In our Division, while we worked to get ready for battle, we continued to receive reports of
more indiscriminate bombing and strafing of civilians and the burning of whole towns by the
Japanese. These were circularized to get our men in the greatest fighting mood possible. They
responded favorably with their greater determination to make our Abucay Battle Line really
strong.

Captain Chioco, our Division Quartermaster, was busy with a different task. He was looking for
rice to store. He could see that with the number of men arriving food would soon be a problem.
There were newly harvested rice fields around us and a lot of rice left in stacks by owners who
had fled. The problem was how to gather it.

One day while on reconnaissance in Pampanga, Captain Chioco located a rice mill and
requisitioned it. While he was doing so, enemy planes came and harassed him and his men,
and bombed and strafed the building that housed the mill. Ignoring the planes, he and his men
proceeded to take the mill then set it up at their Command Post. He had rice milled as fast as
his men could gather it and soon had a sizeable reserve.

On 1 or 2 January, our Division received orders to be on the lookout for remnants of the 26th
Cavalry which had been in contact with the enemy and had been forced by superior numbers
to withdraw. Our men who were on the line were ordered to be extra careful so as not to fire at
the withdrawing troops.

Soon enough, some Cavalry men came through our lines leading their horses. They did not
seem to be hurt too badly. I asked some of the men what had happened.

They had been fighting, they said, when all of a sudden in the woods they found themselves
surrounded by the enemy so that annihilation seemed almost certain.

"But our commander, Colonel Pierce," one of them said, "seeing that we had to withdraw or be
annihilated as enemy rifle and machine gun fire was coming at us from all directions gave
orders to mount. In one swift charge following him, we galloped right through the enemy
machine guns to our rear.
“He's a brave man and a good commander, Colonel Pierce is," the man continued. "A weaker
man might not have had the courage to charge through what seemed to be certain death. As
far as we know, only a few men were wounded and only one animal killed. But we'll have
another chance at the enemy and we won't be surprised then."
The Cavalry men took a short rest then moved on following the trails to the rear.

About 5 January, 31st Infantry troops who had fought the enemy at Culis passed through our
lines. They came by way of the foothills of Mt. Natib dragging their legs following their difficult
march through the hills and woods. They looked tired, sunburned, and haggard; like they had
had a really tough fight.

Other troops came through as well. When the stream of friendly troops coming in from the
Mabatang Battle Line stopped, we knew our turn to fight had come.

This was made clear to the men. At any time now, the Japanese could he corning within the
range of our rifles. They were to be on the alert all the time especially at night for the Japanese
were reported to creep at dark.

Expecting the enemy momentarily then, I assessed our situation.

First, I thought about the enemy. After successful landings at various points in northern and
southern Luzon, the enemy had deepened their beacheads driving all opposition before them.
Tanks, artillery, cavalry, infantry, and support were landed. Pushing hard against the resistance
of our troops, they had succeeded in overrunning the entire area from Mauban and Atimonan
to Parañaque. Our forces had had to withdraw as the enemy advance could not be stemmed.

In the north, the same thing had happened. On 1 January, Manila was declared an open city.
On 2 January, Manila capitulated. Then, enemy troops converging on Bataan exploited their
gains and pushed on. Their advance thus gained tremendous momentum as their tanks,
artillery, and infantry pressed forward.

The Japanese had not expected any fighting from the Filipinos but whenever they attacked
they found Filipino troops facing them. This incensed them and they committed even greater
atrocities. Turning into Bataan with planes to the fore, they pushed back all USAFFE
opposition. With their morale raised high by successive victories they became convinced that
they could not be stopped in their swift pursuit of our withdrawing troops. They were now
rushing for the kill.

I considered our own USAFFE troops next. On the Mabatang-NatibMoron Line, we had the
57th Infantry; followed by our 41st Division and the 51st Division up to Natib; and the 1st
Regular Division from Natib to Moron. The 57th Infantry and the 41st Division sectors had
been in the process of organization since 25 December and were now in a position thought to
be sufficiently strong.

As far as I knew, neither the 57th Infantry nor the 41st Division had as yet been committed to
action. The 51st Division and the 1st Regular Division had seen hasty action on the beaches of
Tayabas. Here in Abucay, they had had time to fortify.

Would this new MabatangNatibMoron Line hold the enemy attack? Could it absorb the
momentum the enemy forces had gained as they advanced from the beaches to Bataan?
Could we expect the fresh, welltrained troops of the 57th Infantry and the fresh, untried troops
of the 41st Division to stop the enemy? And the 51st and the 1st Regular Divisions, would they
stop the enemy here though they failed to stop them on the beaches?

Finally, I thought, specifically, about the 41st Division. Our battle position had three organized
lines: the Main Line of Resistance (MLR), the Battalion Reserve Line (BRL), and the
Regimental Reserve Line (RRL). Forward of these, we had the Outpost Line of Resistance
(OPLR) which was but lightly-manned and in some points merely patrolled.

Our Main Line of Resistance had not been organized as well as we had wanted it to be. We
expected to make corrections as the battle raged.

In front of the Main Line of Resistance, tactical wires had been placed in coordination with
machine guns so that enemy troops coming within two yards of the barbed wire fences were
machine gun targets. Our positions had been camouflaged; the artillery emplaced,
camouflaged, and registered. I concluded that we had a strong position.

Then, I thought about the men, the vital element in any battle. Could the men of the 41st
Division drawn from the southern Luzon provinces be expected to fight as well here in Bataan
as they would have fought in their own provinces where their fighting would have had a
personal touch to it? Up to now, only one of our regiments had had target practice. Untried,
littletrained, poorly clothed and equipped, could our men stop the veteran soldiers of the
Japanese Army, reputed to be among the best in the world? Only time would tell.

CHAPTER 2

Initiation

Our men continued to work at night to improve their positions and to guard against enemy
infiltration. They worked from about 11:30 p.m. when the moon rose till early dawn. It was on
one of these nights that they got their first feel of their rifles.

It was around 10:30 p.m. when somewhere, rifle fire cracked. The men awoke. Another shot
was heard, and then another. Soon, the whole Main Line of Resistance was firing sending
orange spurts into the dark at some object to the front. Had the enemy finally attacked at night
and been found out?

From where I stood, I could see the firing all over the Main Line of Resistance: from the
beaches to where I was, on the hillsides, and beyond toward Natib. Then the firing spread to
the Battalion Reserve Line and the Regimental Reserve Line and all three lines were firing to
the front. The firing lasted for about thirty minutes then it slowly died down until it stopped
completely.

Like other officers who were conducting their own investigation, I went to the troops closest to
where I was and asked what they had fired at. The men did not know what they had been
shooting at. They had been asleep, they said, when the firing started. Awakened by the noise,
they had grabbed their rifles, gotten into their foxholes, and shot thinking that the enemy was
coming. Did they actually see or hear anything? They were not sure. All along the line, no one
knew exactly what it was he had shot at.

When the moon arose, the men went to work. I sat down and thought about the incident. Had
there been a real target? Or had one man dreamed about the enemy attacking and shot upon
awaking? And had the others, sleeping fitfully, heard the shot and returned it all along the line?

Did the man who fired the first shot hear a sound, say of twigs cracking, as if someone had
stepped on them? Did he, being on the alert for the enemy, shoot at the sound? Did he really
see some object, a man or a carabao, maybe?
But what about the 57th Infantry? They were welltrained troops. Was it possible they, too, had
fired in the excitement of the moment?

These were disconcerting thoughts. The men were evidently nervous.

The next morning, it turned out that the evening's fireworks had not been completely worthless.
While checking on the possible object that the men had fired at, we found a trickle of blood on
the ground in the area where the first shot was probably fired. Maybe the target had been real
after all.

The real lesson, however, was that the indeterminate firing had resulted in one man getting
wounded and another killed on the Main Line of Resistance by the firing from the Battalion
Reserve Line. This fact was called to the attention of the men. They were admonished to be
more careful as we could not afford to lose our men by our own rifles. They had to save every
shot for the enemy.

After this incident, the men were more careful with their firing. Until the incident, most of them
had never fired their weapons. They could not be sure that their rifles actually worked. Having
fired their rifles they were confident now that they had arms that could be depended upon.

Another consequence of the evening's fireworks was that the men now had heard their first
shot. This was important. Even on the target range, the sudden explosion of his first shot is the
most nerve wracking for the inexperienced soldier. As a result of the previous evening's
shooting, our inexperienced soldiers became more steady. The lesson was timely, for the very
next afternoon, we had contact with the enemy.

The men involved in this contact were members of a patrol of the 2nd Battalion of the 42nd
Infantry. The Outpost Line of Resistance of this battalion was on broken and wooded terrain,
so patrols had to be sent out to augment the troops there. The day after the firing incident, a
patrol of eight men was sent out.

The patrol leader divided his men into groups of two. Each group was to cover a specific route
and then all four groups were to reassemble at a designated time.
One group did not report back on time. Believing that this group had returned to the Main Line
of Resistance independently of the others, the patrol leader waited for some time then moved
the rest of his men back.

At about 5:00 pm., Private Donio, one of the two men who did not return, limped into the
Battalion Aid Station for treatment. He was bloody all over and did not have his rifle.
Donio had a gaping wound on his back and one on his left elbow. Four fingers of his left hand
were almost completely cut off. In his right hand, carrying it like a rifle at right shoulder arms,
he held the bloody samurai sword of a Japanese officer. Donio was quickly treated and rushed
to the Division Hospital.

Donio's account of what happened was recorded and reported to General Lim who ordered
me, as Division Inspector General, to interview Donio for further details. If his story was true, I
was to recommend him for citation and decoration.

Donio was a muscularly-built Visayan soldier who had gone to Manila as a boy and had gone
to grade school there after which he had gone to work. I had him recount his story to me.

"Sir," he said, "my teammate and I went to patrol our area but we saw no one. We sat down
under a big mango tree to rest. Suddenly, we heard footsteps in front of us. We looked up
thinking they were those of one of our men. Instead we saw a Japanese officer coming. He
was by himself. Holding our rifles ready to shoot, we shouted 'Halt!' About fifteen yards in front
of us, he halted and stood at attention. We did not know what to do next.

"Then, Sir," he continued, "a squad of ten Japanese soldiers started to come at us from a bend
on the trail and we became afraid. We fired at them and they ran back. But all of a sudden, the
Japanese officer grabbed me and we wrestled. Then I saw that he was pulling out his sword so
I tried to grab it with my left hand. He was able to draw it and he hacked at me. Somehow, I
kept fighting.

"I boxed him with all my might. I hit him on the face and he fell. I jumped on him and took his
sword. He jumped up and tried to run away. I hacked him with his sword and he staggered. I
thrust the sword into his stomach and he fell bleeding. When I saw him dead, I wiped the
sword on his body, took his pistol, papers, and cigarettes, then I started to go back. I did not
know what had happened to my companions but I saw that I was wounded and bleeding so I
walked as fast as I could until I arrived at our Command Post."

"Where are the papers, the pistol, and the sword?" I asked.

"Lieutenant Rillo, our Battalion Commander, took them, Sir," he said.

I thanked Donio and congratulated him.

“I hope all of our men could be as brave as you," I said.

"Sir, anyone in my place would have done the same thing," he replied

This was rich, I thought, a Japanese samurai killed by a simple Filipino soldier with the
samurai's own sword. I rendered my report and recommended Donio for citation and
decoration. He was later awarded the Silver Star for gallantry in action.

CHAPTER 3

The Fighting Begins

Around the second week of January, things were coming to a head. Our men had stopped
improving their positions and now simply waited for the attack that we knew was coming. They
had their rifles ready at all times. Grenades had been distributed. Molotov cocktails had been
distributed also. In case of a tank attack, the men were to stay under cover until the tank had
passed, and until it was in such a position that they could throw their lighted Molotov cocktails
at its vital parts, especially the exhaust. A wellaimed throw was expected to cause the exhaust
gases to ignite and produce a small fire in the tank which was expected to spread.

About 8 January, the enemy artillery started to shell our positions. Its first objective was that
part of our 43rd Infantry sector which attracted the attention of enemy planes because of the
poor clearing of its field of fire. As the day passed, the enemy continued to shell the 43rd
Infantry Command Post near the Hacienda Abucay Road. The intense shelling scored a lot of
direct hits on the Main Line of Resistance foxholes rendering them useless and causing the
men there to be ordered to withdraw to the Battalion Reserve Line.

The next day, enemy infantry action followed. It was stopped by our men who having
withdrawn to our new positions caught the enemy unaware as the latter attacked our original
line that we had left. They caused numerous casualties among the Japanese.

The next wave of Japanese hostilities against our Division was directed at our 41st Infantry.
Again, the attack was preceded by artillery fire. This time however, effective counterbattery fire
by our Artillery units in the rear of the 41st Infantry and the 57th Infantry lines silenced the
enemy artillery.

In the evening, the enemy infantry made its first attempt to come in. They were mowed down
on the barbed wires by our machine guns firing on their final protective lines. It was beautiful to
see the trajectories of our machine gun firing intersecting at a point in crisscross fire, hitting
just in front of the tactical obstacles. Our incessant and arduous work of the past weeks was
more than compensated for by that firing alone.

By 13 January, the enemy had made probing attempts to penetrate every position of our line
from Mabatang to Hacienda Abucay. Each time, we repulsed them. But enemy planes bombed
and strafed every day. And enemy shelling, which could not be anticipated because the
Japanese fired randomly into various sectors, continued whenever our batteries allowed.

The enemy directed their heaviest attacks at our 41st Infantry and the 57th Infantry because
the terrain of these units was favorable for the offensive. From their foxholes, our men fought
steadily day and night. Every time the enemy charged, our men shot them dead in front of the
barbed wires. And when they sent more men to retrieve the corpses, those men made as good
a target for our men as each earlier wave. Finally, the enemy took to simply abandoning their
dead.

About 14 January, the enemy succeeded in pushing back a platoon of our 41st Infantry at its
leftmost sector. Before they could exploit their advantage, however, the support platoon of that
company counterattacked and partly pushed the enemy back. At the same time, units of the
3rd Battalion of our 42nd Infantry whose right was threatened attacked on their own initiative.
Before nightfall, the tables had been turned. Our men had pushed the enemy back and
restored our original line. These counterattacks assured us that our men could be depended
upon to hold their positions.

In a sector of our 42nd Infantry, there was the threat that the enemy could come in from the
draw in front of it. The Engineers were ordered to lay booby traps for them.

In the midst of enemy activity, the Engineers improvised the traps. A squad of volunteers went
out with explosives, dry cells, nails and tin cans, and set them up. When their work was done,
they fired to attract the enemy then withdrew. Cheers went up from our troops on the lines as
the explosions in the draw indicated that the traps had been sprung. But the enemy would not
be dismayed. They had men to spare and we could tell by the way they were charging, that
their men were more than willing to die.

In their attempt to subdue us, the enemy soon resorted to something we had not expected.
Because we had no canned rations, we had to cook with fire. In the wooded ravines where our
kitchens were, the smoke from the cooking went up through the trees. Enemy planes locating
our kitchens, came and bombed them. On the days when they bombed, strafed, and blasted
the kitchens, our men went without food. New kitchens had to be set up quickly and more care
taken when cooking.

This bombing and strafing by the enemy also caused great damage to the civilians who were
in the area. These were people who, being afraid for their lives in the towns and main roads,
had taken refuge in the hills and forests. Old men, women, children and their pets lived in
communities in the ravines. There, in crude improvised shacks, they endured exposure to the
cold and dampness of the forest night and difficulty of obtaining food. On my inspections of the
lines during the organization of the ground, I saw many of these poor evacuees and I advised
them to leave, to go to the rear, away from the battle position. No one did.
One old man, probably the patriarch of his group, told me one day "Captain, we cannot go
away from here. We are from the town of Abucay. We have left our homes and our belongings.
We came here to escape from the war. All that we have are our clothes in bundles, some
cooking utensils, and small articles that we were able to carry when we left the town. You ask
us to go away. How about food? We have rice in the fields here. We reap it, thresh and pound
it, and we have food. If we go to Balanga and points south of here, we will have to buy our rice.
We have no money. We had to give up our fishing. Many times here, all we eat is rice and salt.
But we cannot go away from here. We will not disturb you. Please do not send us away."

"We're not sending you away," I tried to explain. "I'm advising you to go to the rear for your own
good. When the fighting starts, we'll defend you and ourselves. But we cannot stop the planes,
and it we're pushed back, what will there be to stand between the enemy and yourselves? Your
women, especially. You know what the Japanese do to captured women and children."

"Captain", he pleaded, weeping, "do not send us back. If God wants us to die here, let us die
here. This is our home."

Thus the evacuees had stayed, hundreds of them in different locations. And now the enemy
planes, seeing the smoke from our cooking, were bombing us as well as them.

One day, during a lull right after a bombing, I went back to where I had talked with the old man.
I found the community completely shattered. The place was deserted except for a few men
salvaging whatever they could from the debris before going to the rear.
Blood was spilled all over the place. The shacks were splintered or burned to the ground. The
place had a nauseating stench for while the dead bodies were buried in shallow graves, the
limbs which had been thrown into the branches of the trees by the concussion remained there.
I wanted to talk to the men but they seemed not to see me as they feverishly picked up and
bundled what they could, then left.

I retraced my steps out of the ravine and walked back to our Command Post. The enemy must
have been shelling when I left the place. I do not remember nor did I care. I had just seen
innocent people killed. I had no stomach for it.

CHAPTER 4

Demoralization

At about 16 January, at Division Headquarters I found Lieutenant Harris, our Engineer

Battalion's U.S. instructor looking dejected and demoralized.

"What's up, Harris?" I greeted him.

"'The 41st Engineers are all shot to pieces and can't fight," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

Before he could answer, General Lim came up to us and asked what had happened.

Harris explained that when the 57th Infantry to our right had been pushed back to the
Hacienda Abucay Road the night before, the 41st Engineers were committed as Division
Reserve and assigned to occupy our extension of the Regimental Reserve Line of the 41st
Infantry into the sector of the 57th Infantry. In the morning, artillery shells from friendly troops
preparing for a counterattack had fallen on the line killing three of the men and wounding
several others. This incident demoralized the company they belonged to.

The demoralization had spread throughout the battalion, Harris said, and the men now seemed
unwilling to risk their lives. We had a problem on our hands.

Because the 57th Infantry had had to withdraw from the fighting, we needed the 41st
Engineers to stop the enemy. They had to be shaken out of their state of demoralization.

"Sir," I said to General Lim, "would you allow me to go and try to make the Engineers fight?"

He looked at me questioningly.

"The Engineer Battalion was my battalion, Sir," I continued. "I mobilized and led them until 21
December. If anyone can make them fight, I can. Please let me try. The men know me and
respect me."

"All right, go and make them fight," he said. "They're all we have."
With Harris, I drove to the 41st Engineers' line and found the company which was the center of
the demoralization. It occupied a position on the rear slope of a nose that receded slowly
forward onto the flat ground. A second company was on another nose to the right of it. There
was a shallow ravine between them. A third company was in reserve to the rear.

I found the commander of the demoralized company and greeted him.

"Do you know what happened this morning, Sir?" he asked. "Our own Artillery fired on us and
killed some of our men. Three of my men are dead. Others were wounded. Why do these
things happen, Sir? Why do our own guns kill our men? The Artillery should be held
responsible for their mistakes."

"These things happen," I said, firmly and calmly, then I walked with him among his men almost
all of whom I knew by name. I greeted them in as friendly and nonchalant a manner as I could
muster and as though nothing untoward had happened. I asked them if they were prepared to
stop the enemy. Some of them looked and smiled but most of them answered, "Yes, Sir." As I
went around talking to the men in their foxholes, I could feel that they were regaining their
composure.

When I went over to the company at the right of the company that was the seat of the
demoralization, the commanding officer met me saying, "Bert, please help us."

"What happened?" I asked.

He recounted a story similar to the one that the commander of the demoralized company had
told me. "There are snipers shooting at us," he said, additionally.

"What have you done about it?" I asked. "You have a whole company here."

"Nothing, Sir." he said. "I've given the men instructions to take cover. We had a fight here last
night. The men are resting."

"While snipers are shooting at you?" I asked.

I had him show me the probable location of the snipers. He pointed to two rice stacks in the
open field about a hundred and forty yards away.

As we stood in the open, we surely enough were shot at by Japanese rifles. The shots hit a
rice paddy dike in front of us.

If I take cover now, I thought, the whole idea of raising the morale of these men would have to
be given up. So I stayed where I was and told them not to worry.

Then I walked up to a platoon which was sitting behind a low rise in the ground and explained
to them that it was necessary to get the snipers. I reminded them that snipers were nothing but
infantrymen, not ghost fighters or supermen who could not be licked by better, braver fighters.

"What shall we do about the snipers?" I asked them. "Shall we sit and wait for them or shall we
go after them?"
I received no answer.

"I want men to go out there and charge with bayonets," I said and waited for a moment to allow
the thought to register. "I want volunteers. Is there anyone brave enough to do that? All
volunteers, get up! "

To a man, the whole platoon got up.

"I need only one squad," I said, and thanked them. I picked the toughest-looking men in the
bunch and took them to the open rise where they could see the rice stacks. I put two corporals
in charge of four men each. Then I pointed to the rice stacks indicating which stack each group
was to handle.

"The snipers are in those rice stacks," I said. "You will charge and as soon as you get to the
stacks, attack with your bayonets. Any questions? "

There were no questions. I ordered them out.

The men advanced on the double as the firing by the enemy had increased. They did not seem
to care. Soon, they reached their objective. Without any hesitation, they thrust their bayonets
into the rice stacks. The sniper fire stopped.

To insure the accomplishment of their mission, they set fire to the stacks. The rest of the
company which had come up to watch sent up a cheer. The men returned amid the
acclamation of their comrades. I thanked them and commended them for their courage. They
smiled with satisfaction although they were panting and were drenched with sweat.

I started to walk back to the company that I had approached first. Lieutenant Tinio, the
Battalion Commander of the 41st Engineers, joined me. We had just arrived there when a
platoon of Japanese soldiers came running toward us from the town of Mabatang. They
formed a line directly to our right front and when they were about nine hundred yards away
started to fire at us.

I looked at the men on our line. They were looking around with questioning eyes and generally
moving toward their foxholes. The enemy, not meeting with any fire from us, started to
advance.
I watched the enemy until they were about eight hundred yards away. Then I decided it was
time to fight. It was not difficult to designate a target that could be plainly seen. A more difficult
job was control of fire because the men who would be doing the firing were inexperienced.

Because the company commander seemed upset I offered to assume command of the
company. Tinio did not object. I called the platoon leaders and told them that the enemy was
probably the advance guard of an enemy attack in force. They were to prepare their men to
fire, but to fire only on my orders.

In the midst of enemy fire, the platoon leaders went back to their men. After a few minutes,
they signaled they were ready. The enemy soldiers were only about six hundred yards away
from us now. They were very visible in the clear light of the late afternoon.
I gave the order to fire. The men fired their rifles. The machine guns were firing, too. I watched
the effect of the firing while I rallied those among the men who seemed scared and would not
get out of their foxholes.

After about ten minutes of fire, the enemy withdrew. It was fun to see the enemy run back, the
mighty fighters of Nippon who were reputed to die fighting. It was more fun to see our men but
a while ago badly demoralized and frightened fight the enemy so effectively.

The following afternoon, the 41st Engineers were ordered to occupy a new position, as the
51st Division to our left had given way. The 41st Engineers held their ground under heavy
enemy attack until 24 January when our entire Division was ordered to withdraw.

The Engineer unit fought and pushed back what later turned out to be a huge encirclement
movement by the enemy to cut the line in Abucay off from the provincial road. If this movement
had not been frustrated by the 41st Engineers at the start, and pushed back subsequently by a
regiment of the 21st Division, the Battle of Bataan would have ended about the end of January
1942, and the war might have taken a different turn.

CHAPTER 5

Scare Tactics

The Japanese are a shrewd and cunning people.

The Japanese we were fighting believed that it was better to scare the enemy away than to
engage it in actual combat. Reckoning that a wounded soldier would require more attention
than a dead one, they used smallcaliber rifles to wound instead of kill.

Their philosophy of combat could be stated this way: Why risk the loss of life if by the use of
cunning warcraft you could win the battle? Why kill a man if by wounding him you made it
necessary for a number of his comrades to attend to him? This technique of the Japanese, we
had heard, had been perfected in their Chinese campaign.

As early as 10 December 1941, three days after the attack on Pearl Harbor and the
subsequent declaration of war by the United States, G2 reports we received from USAFFE
Headquarters circularized the fact that the Japanese used "scare tactics". The following
illustrates the use of such tactics.
In the dark, the report said, the Japanese sent scouts out on bicycles to ride into enemy lines.
In terrain where the vegetation did not allow the use of bicycles, the Japanese scouts crept into
the enemy lines. They then would wait for the hour just before daylight at which time, in one
concerted move, they fired blanks, live shells, firecrackers, and other noisemaking devices in
random directions. The idea was to create the sound of a great volume of small arms fire
within and behind their enemy's positions. By doing this, the Japanese expected to awaken
their enemy who would think themselves “surrounded" on all sides.

This is how this tactic would apply to our forces: In the lifting darkness of the hour just before
daylight, our weary USAFFE soldier who spent the day before in a foxhole nervewrackingly
expecting random enemy action awakes to the unmistakable sound of enemy fire. He is
startled, confused, and becomes nervous. Where is the enemy? He wonders. Why is he
behind us? Are we surrounded'? He takes a deep breath hoping it is all a dream but he
realizes he is awake. He concludes that what he is hearing is enemy fire from behind. This, to
him, means that our outposts have failed to stop the enemy. They have failed to warn him.

More confusing thoughts enter his mind and he becomes more tense. Expecting the worse, he
sees his comrades in the same confused mental condition. He concludes that all is over but
the kill. Put some one hundred such men together and what have you?

By the use of scare tactics, therefore, the Japanese strove to produce this psychological
reaction in our men. In quite a few cases, they succeeded.

I remember two occasions when scare tactics were used by the Japanese. I remember the first
one distinctly.

In the course of my inspection of our front lines on 13 January 1942, at about 3:00 p.m., I
found myself in the Command Post of one of our frontline battalions. There was slight enemy
pressure at the Main Line of Resistance. Enemy planes were flying over. Enemy rifle fire from
a short range coming from the thick woods surrounding the Command Post could be heard.
The officers and men there paid little attention to it. The Battalion Surgeon continued to treat
the wounded.

Soon, the firing intensified and the sounds became unmistakably those of enemy rifle and
machine gun fire. The Command Post became alive as the men jumped into their foxholes and
the officers went into their dugouts.

As the firing continued, we became convinced that what we were hearing definitely was enemy
rifle and machine gun fire. When mortar fire was heard, the men in their foxholes became even
more tense and anxious.

As we waited, we continued to hear a lot of firing but saw no movement whatsoever; not even
of the leaves of the underbrush through which the shots would have passed.

"Major," I finally called to the battalion commander, "would you find out if there has been any
enemy penetration through the front line units?"
He telephoned to find out then shouted the answer to me, "No, not through the front or through
the units left or right of us."

“That settles it," I thought. "It has to be firecrackers, trick shells, and other scare tactic
devices." I asked for volunteers to patrol into the woods.
"Remember," I said to the ten men who volunteered, "no shooting unless you see the enemy. If
you do see the enemy," I said to the two corporals who were each in charge of a patrol, "fire
back and send a man to report to me.”

After the patrols had left, it occurred to me that I was not really certain that the firing we were
hearing was due to firecrackers. A disturbing thought entered my mind. If the firing was due to
firecrackers, then none of the volunteers would get hit. If anyone was hit, then the sounds we
were hearing were not firecrackers. The only way to find out for sure was to expose someone
to being hit. Since this was my idea, I decided it would be cowardly to assign anyone else to do
the job. So I walked into the open clearing under the trees in the midst of what sounded like
intense enemy fire.

With my pistol drawn I strolled hoping that I would not be hit; thinking that if I was hit then I
would know if this was really the enemy within fifty yards of me. I walked around for about ten
minutes.

An enemy plane flew overhead and the sound of machine gun fire intensified. He's strafing, I
thought, and looked for cover. But if I take cover now, I thought again, I will never know if the
ground firing was real. I looked around and noticed that the leaves on the trees were not
moving and there was no dust flying off in puffs as there would be if a plane was really strafing.
I went back into the open and waited. Surely, I thought, if I am not meant to die now, I will not
be hit too badly. No shot hit me. Soon, one of the patrols came back.

"No, Sir, there's no enemy there," they reported. "The sounds that we heard sounded quite
close but there was no whining of bullets. No leaves were hit. The machine gun fire sounded
as if it was coming from the top of the bamboo trees but the leaves on the trees were not
trembling. "'

The other patrol arrived with a similar report and a bundle of firecrackers. Tightly tied to the
firecrackers was a fuse of some sort, the end of which was lit. It was smoldering. We let it burn
down and the firecrackers went off producing the sound of enemy small arms fire right in our
midst.

"It looked pretty bad for a while, didn't it?" I said to the battalion commander.

"Yes, but we're wiser now," he said.

Taking two men to guide me through the woods where the sound of the firing had been
intense, I proceeded with my inspection. Although we were convinced the firing had been
synthetic, we walked through the woods. with our arms ready, prepared to encounter at least
the enemy squad that set off the firecrackers and the simulated machine gun fire.

The other incident that I recall in which the enemy used firecrackers involved a unit situated
within the curve of a horseshoe bend of the AboAbo River. I was not a witness to it but heard
about it from the commanding officer of the unit.

It happened about 20 January 1942, at night. As usual, guards were posted both on the inside
and outside banks of the river. The Command Post was quiet and apparently unalarmed.
Everyone had been alerted, however, because the Japanese after their breakthrough in Natib
had penetrated into the vicinity of this Command Post. Suddenly, small arms fire was heard
bursting forth in the dark right in the river. Japanese caliber .27s, everyone was sure, were
being used.

The men on the inner line thought the enemy had followed the river, somehow eluded the
guards, and had fired on them. They fired back. The men on the outer line thinking the enemy
had crept in from behind them got ready to fire. In the excitement, one nervous soldier fired
into the river behind them. The whining of the bullets from the front convinced the inner guards
that the Japanese were returning their fire. The firing continued for about fifteen minutes until
someone ordered "Cease firing."

The following morning, about thirty men of that unit were found dead, shot by caliber .30
Enfield rifles.

Having heard about the incident, Lieutenant Tinio, Lieutenant Oreta -- another Engineer officer
-- and I were exchanging thoughts about it when we noticed a patrol of the 31st Infantry
coming toward us from the rear. As they came up to where we were, a fresh burst of fire came
which created a lot of noise. Convinced this new burst was just another batch of firecrackers,
we unconcernedly continued our conversation. The 31st Infantry patrol dove for shelter in a
ditch. “The patrol is new to firecrackers," Tinio remarked.

"Say, you," the American lieutenant who was leading the patrol shouted to us from his position
in the ditch, "why don't you go down and take cover?"

We paid no attention to him and kept on talking. When the volume of fire increased, he
shouted again for us to take cover.

"Take cover from firecrackers?" I asked.

He looked perplexed. "Firecrackers?" he asked.

"Yes, if those were not firecrackers," I said, "don't you think we would have been hit by now?"

The patrol got up from the ditch and came up to us led by the lieutenant. "Sorry, Captain," he
apologized.

"That's all right," I said. "I appreciate your wanting us to take cover but we've been in this scare
tactics game long enough to know about it."

"How long have you been on the front? " he asked looking down at us from his six-foot-two
vantage point.

"About ten days."

"Why, that makes you veterans." He seemed impressed.

"I suppose so," I said. "That's why we know about scare tactics.

"We've since come upon firecrackers and toy bamboo rattles, too," I told him further, "which if
rotated at a certain speed give out a sound that simulates enemy machine gun fire. In the dark,
you can't tell it from the real thing. The Japanese also use drums which they must hold up
close to a radio mike to produce an amplified sound like that of mortars and 3inch guns."
When the patrol had left, Tinio said, "He's right." We are veterans. And only a few weeks ago,
we new officers didn't know what was what. "

"For that matter," I answered, "with the possible exception of General Lim, I don't believe
anyone in the Philippine Army has been to war before. We're lucky, or unlucky, that we belong
to this generation. War is an education as well as an experience. Someday this war will end. If
we live through it, will we be able to go back home and resume our lives where we left off? Or
will we want to be soldiers always? I've always wanted this life, but you two were civilians. "

"I like this, too," said Oreta.

"I've always been a gentleman farmer and liked it," Tinio said. “But I may find it hard to return
to a farmer's life when the war is over. If the Army will keep me, maybe I'll stay."

As we talked, the firing ceased in our immediate vicinity although in the distance beyond the
woods sporadic firing continued. By now the sun had. sunk low in the west turning the sky into
a copper red shade and emblazoning the clouds with gold, orange, and deep red. A soft
breeze came up rippling the uncut rice and causing the sugarcane to rustle. A few doves
coming home to roost, a couple of contented cows led by a barefoot boy, a mother feeding
chickens while a couple of children played under the mango trees completed the: scenery
creating for the moment a picture of peace, contentment, and home.

But in spite of the backdrop of temporary peace and quiet we had to be awake to the reality
that we were on the front and only a few hundred yards to the men were busy killing one
another. And even though our thoughts were of home, even though the enemy did sometimes
use unreal bullets, even though we would have wanted to be somewhere else, the fact was
that we were on the front. Alive now, but what about tomorrow?

CHAPTER 6

Darkness Descends

On the morning of 22 January 1942, things looked very dark for the USAFFE forces on the line
at Abucay. The 41st Division was still intact but our left flank had been refused way to the rear
beyond our Regimental Reserve Line.

Our center sector had not budged, but on our right flank, the whole Main Line of Resistance of
the 41st Infantry had been pushed back to the Battalion Reserve Line. Our men had attempted
repeated, furious, bloody, and spirited counterattacks, but the Main Line of Resistance in the
41st Infantry sector remained in Japanese hands.

Gone from the 41st Infantry sector now were the land mines we had carefully planted where
we thought the enemy might use tanks. Gone were the wellconstructed tactical and protective
wires that had served to stop the enemy for about two weeks. Farther to the right, the 57th
Infantry, which around 13 to 16 January had been pushed back three kilometers to the
Hacienda Abucay Road, had been relieved by a regiment of the 21st Division. That regiment
held out tenaciously from the right flank of the 41st Division to the beaches.

For two days now, elements of the Philippine Division which was made up of Americans from
the 31st Infantry and Philippine Scouts from the 45th and 57th Infantry had been committed to
action to our left flank in a last attempt to repair our lines. They had met with little success.
Then toward the end of two days of real twofisted fighting, they succeeded in pushing the
enemy back to the north bank of the Sabayan River. From there, the enemy now looked down
on burned sugarcane fields where only two days ago they had threatened to outflank our left
and inflict havoc on the grim and determined men of the USAFFE.

The Philippine Division was part of the U.S. Army. It was the USAFFE's bestequipped unit and
boasted of welltrained men who were professional soldiers. Those men knew they were good
and were keenly aware that everyone expected them to drive the enemy out. The Philippine
Division, the USAFFE's pride, was our last ace.

The 31st, 45th, and 57th Infantry regiments, converging on the sugarcane fields east of
Hacienda Abucay from their different assembly areas in Bataan, and driving the enemy out of
there and out of the avocado plantation west of it was a great relief to us of the 41st Division
who had been in the thick of the fight for almost two weeks now.

Determinedly, the men of the 41st Division continued to defend their positions. They had no
idea how bad the situation was. Haggard, tired, sleepless, and hungry, yet they held out. Since
8 January when the enemy artillery started to shell our positions, our men who were mostly
young and inexperienced., whose main attributes for fighting were their patriotism, fortitude,,
and pride, stuck it out.

For days on end, they went without food as our food carriers were shot down by enemy
snipers. For two weeks now,they had had to go without a bath, without shaving, with almost no
sleep. Doggedly, they stuck to their individual foxholes.

During the day when not engaged in actual fighting, they were subjected to bombing, strafing,
and artillery fire. At night, even in the absence of the enemy, they could not sleep. They had to
be alert for Japanese soldiers creeping up in the dark with bayonets, crawling beyond our
lines, aiming to wreak havoc in the rear at dawn.

Sleep did not come easily for another reason. It was difficult for the men to sleep inside their
foxholes where the only positions they could assume were standing and crouching.

These men were among the real heroes of Bataan and there were many hundreds of them.
Men who fought because they were fighting for their country. Men who fought because they
were born of fighters. Men who knew what death was and shunned it, yet on orders faced it.
Men who were human, kind, and gentle, whose love for their country was equaled only by their
love for their family. Men who enjoyed life as they had known it, a life of peace, comfort, and
ease yet staked their all for a common cause.

The enemy they fought were seasoned veterans who killed like savages with absolutely no
regard for life. In spite of uneven odds in material, number, training, and experience, our men
held on because that was what they had to do. It was up to them to stop the enemy's
onslaught. In their hands rested the destiny of their country and as it turned out later, the
outcome of the war.

By the morning of 22 January 1942, although immediately in front of the 41st Division the
enemy had been stopped and could not move forward, the fact was that on the whole we were
being licked.

We did not know it but already the Japanese had advanced from the forests in Natib to the
AboAbo River just behind our lines. All we knew was that we were holding the enemy at bay in
Mabatang and Abucay; locally, we were beating them.
We knew of their having routed the 2nd Division in Moron and the 51st Division in Natib and
that they were threatening our left. But we knew the Philippine Division was out there. We were
confident they would stop the enemy.

The morale of our men remained excellent in spite of lack of food, cigarettes, fresh clothing,
rest, and sleep. They thought we were winning. But we were not.
22 January was to be very tense for our Division. As the day rolled on, the Japanese,
counterattacking and approaching through a critical ravine, succeeded in piercing the hue of
the Philippine Division. Our 43rd Infantry was having to engage the enemy. It was important for
them to hold the enemy because our Division Command Post was in that ravine. If the
Japanese were not driven out of it, they would walk right into our Command Post. All
afternoon, the 43rd Infantry fought to keep the enemy away.

As the battle raged, as if to torment our staff further, at about 4:00 p.m., the ammunition truck
of one of our Field Artillery batteries was hit by enemy shell fire. It exploded sending shells and
fragments in all directions. It was worse than enemy shelling or bombing and our men had to
stay under cover. It was not till early in the evening that the burning ammunition finally
dissipated itself.

Then we received reports of greater enemy pressure on our left and left center. We heard that
the Engineer Dump of the 41st Division had been bombed, that the 31st Infantry had
committed its reserves. We heard that while there had been no action on the Mabatang sector,
enemy planes had bombed the 45th Infantry reserves to our rear.

We heard that early in the morning the enemy had sent six fighters out and bombed Cabcaben
Airfield. The whole day, enemy planes kept flying over us. Still our men remained undaunted.
That night, small arms and machine gun fire repeatedly reached our ears from about one
kilometer up the ravine. All available troops in the Division Command Post -- about forty men
with two machine guns -- were disposed in positions ready to meet the enemy.

The morale at the Command Post now was low. The future looked bad. We spoke in whispers.
About midnight, we relocated the staff near the Signal Message Center where our telephones
were busy receiving reports from the front lines. Reports came in monotonous phrases.

"The Japanese are increasing their pressure."

"We're holding our lines."

"Looks bad."

General Lim called Capt. Ojeda up. "What reserves do we have left?” He asked.

We've committed our Division Reserve, the Engineers," Ojeda answered.

"What can we use of the 31st Infantry?"

"I've already put in everything that I've got," Colonel Steele, the Commanding Officer of the
31st Infantry, answered.

Silence followed accompanied by a feeling of anxiety and helplessness..

Someone -- I believe it was Major Domaoal -- suggested that General Lim drive to the Rear
Command Post in Balanga. Judging by the increasing volume of fire he thought it doubtful that
our lines could hold the enemy until daylight. It would be shameful, he said, if General Lim
were to be captured by the Japanese. The staff agreed. General Lim did not.

"No," General Lim said, "if my Division is defeated, I fall with it."

I objected. "If the enemy should succeed in breaking through and capturing the Command
Post, but the whole Divison is not defeated, it would be inexcusable if you, the Commanding
General, were captured. You can direct the operations from the Rear Command Post as well." I
said.

"That's right, General," Colonel Fortier spoke up. "Why don't you go to the Rear Command
Post? Domaoal and the staff can stay here. I'll stay, too."

General Lim remained reluctant but after a while decided to go to Balanga. It was good that he
did. He was spared an unpleasant incident that happened that night.

The Japanese did not make a breakthrough. But we had the first case of a man going crazy.

Around 2:00 a.m., one of the telephone operators who was asleep near the Message Center
began talking in his sleep saying, "My guardian angel is with MacArthur." No one paid
attention. Just another main probably dreaming and talking in his sleep, the men thought.

All of a sudden, the operator sprang up. Brandishing his pistol in the darkness, he ran toward
our Command Post, shouting, "You Americans, why are you standing back there? What we
need to do to win is attack. Why do we keep on defending? Are you afraid to attack? I'll lead
you in the attack. My guardian angel is with MacArthur." Still no one paid attention.

One of the officers stuck to the telephone keeping alert for incoming reports. The rest of us just
sat around or lay on the ground smoking or trying to sleep. Nobody spoke. No one was
disturbed by the man's actions and utterances. Soon, he was back.

"Why didn't you follow?" he demanded. "If you're afraid to lead, I'll lead. Why didn't you follow?
You're cowards. That's why we're losing this war."

We decided to act then. We went over to him and told him to rest as he was tired.

"I'm not tired." he persisted. "But these goddamn Americans are cowards and we're fighting for
them."

A big, husky shadow came forward. "I'm a fullblooded American," a deep bass voice said. "You
want to quarrel with me, or will you shut up?" It was Colonel Fortier.

The man lunged at Colonel Fortier. We pulled him away. Struggling to get free, he kept
shouting, "Goddamn Americans. Cowards!" Then he collapsed at our feet as someone slugged
him with a pistol. There were going to be similar cases later on.

The next morning was somewhat more peaceful. The staff moved back from the Signal
Message Center to the Division Command Post which was better defiladed from enemy
shelling from the front. General Lim had come back before daybreak. He called for me.

"Tomorrow morning," he said, "I want you to go to Orion in the vicinity of Km. 148 and
reconnoiter for a new Command Post." Placing a map before us, he pointed out the location.
"We may have to withdraw. Don't let anybody in on it."

Our Command Post was busy that afternoon as the enemy continued to press on in the ravine
which they thus far had failed to pierce through. The Philippine Division was busy, too. Having
succeeded in reestablishing the line up to the former limiting point between the 41st and 51st
Division, it was busy now engaging the enemy on both left and right flanks. But the enemy was
not to be discouraged. After fifteen days of steady pressure, they knew we could not hold out
much longer. They were rushing for the kill.

Actually, to speed up their progress, as early as 15 January, the Japanese had set up radio
transmitting sets in front of our lines. They broadcast messages to our men stressing our lack
of food and relief.

The Japanese broadcasts also included music, news from home, and appeals by Japanese
and Filipino broadcasters some of whom were women who called on us to stop fighting
because the Japanese, according to them, were not fighting the Filipinos.

"We are your friends," the broadcasts said. "We do not want to fight you. It is the Americans
behind you that we are fighting. Why not stop fighting? Because you're in front, we have to
fight you to get the Americans in the rear. Give up this fight. We will not harm you if you come
to our lines."

Sometimes in the middle of a beautiful kundiman (a plaintive Filipino song), a woman's voice
would come in, saying "My sons, come home. Why do you waste your lives? Why do you want
us mothers always to be in tears? Can't you see that yours is a losing fight? Can you hold out
much longer against the stalwart sons of Nippon? Can you match your tender inexperience
against the veterans of China, the victors of Hongkong, the masters of Singapore? Why risk
your lives in the mountains where you have no shelter, little food, and no one to care for you?
Come home. Husbands, your wives need you. Come home and live for them. Fathers, your
children cry for you. Can't you see them in tears calling for you to come home? Sons, fathers,
and husbands, come home. We need you. We await you. Give up the useless fight which is
not yours and come home. We will be waiting, waiting in tears and anxiety, hoping you will
realize your mistake and come home to us. Come home."

These broadcasts created different reactions among the men. They had the worst effect on the
young men from the farms whose main concerns before the war had been limited to a nipa
shack and a small farm. These young men longed terribly for home. As I made routine
inspections along the lines they asked if the broadcasts were coming from their homes. They
thought their mothers really were talking to them. They took the appeals to be real.
Whenever these boys asked me about the broadcasts, I explained how the messages were
delivered by Japanese women speaking in Tagalog, that the whole thing was set up to turn
them into cowards. But I could tell that the broadcasts were affecting them badly.

The men from the suburban areas who had a greater knowledge of world events, who read
newspapers and had had contact with local Japanese artisans, waiters, and owners of
halohalo stores before the war; who smoked American cigarettes, adopted American fashions,
and liked the "talkies" were affected very differently. The effect of the broadcasts on these men
was negative. These people felt that the Japanese whom they considered inferior to them were
trying to fool them.

As I made my rounds, these men told me, "We know what we're doing. Who are those 'slant
eyes' to tell us what to do? They say they do not want to fight us. We've been wounded and
killed. If they really do not want to fight us, why don't they come through our lines without
shooting like hell?" To these men, it was "To hell with the Japanese, we're going to lick them
all."

The more intellectual among the Division, then, took the broadcasts for what they were:
insidious propaganda aimed to demoralize our troops so that the Japanese could achieve an
easy and swift victory. These men knew what the war meant; they understood what they were
fighting for. Although they were aware that the Japanese soldiers were superior in equipment,
training, and experience, they continued to believe that the most vital factor in a war was "the
man." And they believed that man to man they were superior to the Japanese. They did not like
war but they acknowledged that they were at war. They knew they were fighting not only for
their homes, their country, and all that they held dear. They were fighting for Christianity,
democracy, and decency as well. If they lost, what would there be to live for? More than ever
before, they became convinced that they had to continue to fight.

On the whole, the Japanese broadcasts were ineffectual. But the music that the broadcasts
sent our way was much appreciated.

CHAPTER 7

Retreat to Samat

0n 23 January 1942, at about 11:00 p.m., General Lim called his staff to a conference. After we
had crowded into his dugout, by the dim light of a flashlight he read us our orders for
withdrawal from our position in Abucay to a new, partly organized position in the vicinity of Mt.
Samat. The 41st Division was to furnish a covering shell for the withdrawal of all the troops
engaged on the line. The movement was to start at 7:00 p.m. the following day. Secrecy was
necessary.

After the conference, General Lim told me to go out early in the morning for reconnaissance.
All the unit commanders were ordered to assemble at the kilometer post at Km. 148 on the
PilarBagac road. It was about 3:00 a.m. when we finally finished. No one on the staff slept that
night. Everyone was busy with his thoughts and his belongings.

At about 8:30 a.m. on 24 January, General Lim, all the unit commanding officers, and I were at
Km. Post 148. We studied the map on which had been plotted our Main Line of Resistance
and the Division sectors. Then we climbed up to a point from which we could study the terrain.

After General Lim had answered all the questions clarifying the situation, the unit commanding
officers and their parties proceeded to make their own individual reconnaissance. General Lim,
Lieutenant Santos, Captain Webb, and I looked for a temporary place to stay at and found an
unoccupied nipa shack near a running stream. There, General Lim gave me further
instructions to apportion the 41st Division sector to each regiment, to fix limiting points on the
ground.

Proceeding to our Main Line of Resistance to determine our Division's limiting points, I met
with representatives of the Division's 42nd and 43rd Infantry regiments and traced the line on
the ground with them. The 41st Infantry which had been detached was not represented. Upon
completion of this work I reported back to General Lim.

"How do you think our men will take the withdrawal orders?" he asked, drawing a deep puff
from his ever-present cigar.

It was characteristic of General Lim to ask his staff for their thoughts on various matters. We
always gave him our honest opinion. I gave him mine now.

"Sir," I answered deliberately, basing my conclusion on observations during inspections I had

made on the Abucay Line where the men in their dirty khaki shirts and shorts or denim fatigue
uniforms and guinit helmets had stayed on, fighting. "I don't think they'll understand. They've
stopped the enemy in front of us; their morale remains excellent. It would be poor psychology
to withdraw them now. They'll begin to think we aren't winning and they may lose heart. They'll
think that after all the sacrifices they had made, they weren't good enough."

"I had the same thoughts," General Lim said, "but we have to withdraw. Do you know that
reports have come that the Japanese are now as close behind us as Guitol and Lourdes? If
they succeed in moving farther east, our Division could be encircled. Even now, we don't know
that the enemy isn't moving too swiftly for our withdrawal. If they get to the main road, they'll
cut us off completely. And after their losses in Abucay and Mabatang, they may be cruel."

I had to agree with him.

"In the organization of the ground on this new line," he continued, "we'll adopt the
recommendation that you made in Abucay regarding our system of foxholes. Let's work fast so
we have enough time to fully organize the ground. We'll try to stop the enemy again. If we hold
them long enough, we'll make the loss so great they'll regret their Philippine campaign."

The recommendation General Lim spoke of was a brainchild of mine born in the thick of battle.
Our Training Manuals and all orders based on them told of a defensive system revolving
around the individual foxhole. In Abucay, our defensive system, especially in the rice fields and
flat ground, had been designed according to the book; and our foxholes, tactical wires,
protective wires, the camouflaging of position and observation had been good. But our
communications were poor. On the Abucay Line, I judged our defensive system to be
inadequate.
The flask-shaped foxholes the men were assigned to presented a problem to me. It was true
that the foxholes served as an excellent cover from ground fire and airplane strafing and
provided an excellent place from which to shoot. If the foxholes were properly camouflaged,
the enemy could be deceived regarding their location.

But the flask-shaped individual foxhole did not allow the man in it to assume a relaxed position.
All he could do was stand or crouch. This was very tiring. Furthermore, it isolated the singular
man in it from all the others who shared a common fate with him.

At night when the men had to stay in their foxholes so they would not be surprised by sudden
enemy raids, they were actually locked in their foxholes. Unless they crawled out in the open to
move to the next cover, they had no access to their comrades. Alone in his foxhole in the dark,
the individual, soldier saw no one else and felt all by himself in the field of battle. That made
him lonely.

He heard the rustling of the underbrush, the slithering of snakes in the grass, the howling of
dogs in the distance, the inhuman cries of terrifying birds in the night. They were all
inexplicable to him in his foxhole. He got scared. Wishing to talk to someone, touch a friend,
and know that he was not alone, he was told to maintain silence. There was no way he could
communicate with his comrades.

The matter of feeding the men in their foxholes also presented a problem. Since we had no
field rations, food prepared in the company kitchens was brought to the front line by carriers
and distributed behind a defilade. The men went to the mess point, received their rations, and
ate under cover. This, too, was done according to the books. But this method presented
difficulties. There were innumerable times when the men went hungry for endless hours
because they did not dare to crawl out of their foxholes while the enemy shelled, bombed, and
strafed our position, usually just after dawn.

Furthermore, the food carriers who had to do their job in the midst of enemy activity also had
their problems. As they approached the mess point, enemy snipers in the trees would fire at
them. They would scamper for safety but some of them would be shot down and their precious
load would scatter on the ground. On the days that this happened, the men in their foxholes
went without food.

I considered the problems and sought to correct the situation. I decided that what we needed
was a shallow trench system that would connect our foxholes, foxhole-to-foxhole. The holes
were not to be connected directly, however, as connecting them that way would take away the
protection they offered from enemy shelling.

The shallow trench was to be dug, about four or five feet behind the foxholes, roughly parallel
to the line that the foxholes formed. Then from the trench we would tunnel under to each
foxhole, or dig an open trench and provide it with splinterproof and camouflage. We would also
extend the trench up to the mess point.

Using the trench, each lonely soldier in his foxhole could travel under cover to the next foxhole
to chat with a friend or smoke a cigarette. And when he wanted to rest, the connecting tunnel
would give him a place to recline even under shelling. Food likewise could be moved from the
mess point to the foxholes through the trench. And connecting the trench to similar trenches to
the corporal's position and platoon headquarters would create an expedient, efficient, more
protective network of communication.

Being convinced of the merits of my shallow trench system, I had given General Lim my official
recommendation accompanying it with the proper sketches. He had said he would forward the
papers to General Headquarters for favorable consideration. In the organization of the ground
on our new line on the PilarBagac Road, this system was now to be adopted for all the units on
the line.

Continuing my conversation with General Lim, I asked him a question that had gnawed at me
since the start of the war.

"Sir," I started, "the Philippines is a long way from the United States. Pearl Harbor is probably
badly damaged. The Japanese Navy is concentrating its activity in our waters. The U.S. Navy
is split into several fleets and the biggest of those are on the Atlantic. Don't you think the
Americans would simply give the Philippines up if this became necessary, then try to
reconquer it, or regain it by the peace treaty that ends this war if they are the victors?"

The question had bothered me because I knew that even if the Japanese had failed to land in
the Philippines they could have blockaded the country. Now, not only had they landed, they
were locked in a death grip for a decision with us.

General Lim weighed his words before he answered. For just a very short while, I was afraid
he would rebuke me for expressing my pessimistic thoughts but I had shared my views with
him on various other occasions and knew him to be a man who respected the other man's
opinion.

"The Americans may do that," he said, finally "I believe they'll fight it out here as long as
provisions last. I think that right now they're preparing Australia for a base. It's the only other
Allied territory in the Pacific they can use as a base. Shipping lanes to Australia have not as
yet been harassed. If the Philippines falls, Australia could be their base for operations.

It was midafternoon, 24 January now. The general told me to deposit his car with Captain
Chioco in Balanga and then to report to Major Domaoal to assist with our withdrawal to Samat.

My trip to Balanga was uneventful except for three enemy planes hovering above for a while.
In Balanga, at the office of the Division Quartermaster, I found Captain Chioco and his men
busily preparing move out. When, suddenly, the enemy started shelling the Quartermaster
depot, we ran for shelter. The Japanese dropped about twenty rounds, hit nothing, then
stopped.

“How's everything, Captain?" I asked, "Do you think you'll be able to withdraw your supplies
and equipment?"

“Yes," he said, "the troops will be on foot and we have enough trucks.”

That'll be better than our withdrawal from Batangas was, won't it?” I asked him.

Yes," he said, "the food and supplies we left in Batangas could sustained us for at least a
month. The civilians there certainly got a lot of food.”

Captain Chioco gave me the car I needed to take me to Abucay. My driver and I drove in the
midst of enemy shelling, with some shells bursting right behind us.

On the open road between Capitan and Abucay, we saw enemy planes bomb the sugarcane
fields of Hacienda Abucay. Six planes in three-flight formation came from the north. When they
were over Hacienda Abucay, the leading plane began to circle around followed by the two
planes in the column; then the second flight followed in similar formation. Completing a circle.,
the leading plane went into a 45-degree dive and was followed in rapid succession by the other
five planes. As it leveled off, it dropped its bombs. The others followed suit.

We saw columns of smoke and dust rise in the air as the bombs exploded. Then the planes
regained their altitude and went through the same routine. Alone in the air -- with nothing, not
even mental reservation to harass them -- those Japanese planes came, bombed mercilessly,
and left.

But this, I reflected, was the way it had been from the start of the war. Japanese planes would
fly serenely in the heavens, look down upon us, then bomb or strafe without resistance. Many
times, in utter despair as enemy planes bombed our positions, we had loudly exclaimed, “Oh,
for an American plane!” Many were those in the Division who believed that one American plane
could rout a whole bomber formation of Japanese planes. We attributed the debacle of Clark
Field and Nichols Field on 8 December 1941, for instance, not to excellent deliberate
Japanese bombing but to surprise attacks and fifth column activities. Never was it considered
an American shortcoming. Such was our faith in America.

My thoughts were brought to an abrupt end by an enemy shell hitting the little stream that cut
the Hacienda Abucay Road. We were crossing the bridge and were about fifteen yards away
when the shell burst into the stream. My driver's hand went unsteady and we almost went into
the stream but he righted the car and we drove safely on. We found much activity going on on
the Hacienda Abucay Road as Artillery batteries along the road prepared to move out.

Approaching the Balanga back road, I saw the 41st Engineers. They were packing their tools
and supplies, their explosives, barbed wire, pickets, picks and shovels.

It was quickly getting dark now and the shadows had become long and narrow. Suddenly, the
enemy started shelling the road. I waited for the shelling to die down to where the shells were
bursting only occasionally, then I resumed my trip to report to Major Domaoal.

At about 7:00 p.m., our withdrawal to Mt. Samat started. As I came in, fullyloaded trucks were
moving out on the outgoing traffic road. Only my driver and I were on the incoming one.

Arriving at our Command Post, I found everyone ready to move out. I reported to Major
Domaoal who had seen to it that all our records had been packed, bundled, or burned.
Together, we oversaw the withdrawal of the Command Post. We had everyone move out
before starting up the road ourselves.

Before leaving, Major Domaoal telephoned Major Magtoto, our Covering Shell Commander.
Magtoto's unit had been in the front lines since 25 December and had acquitted itself
creditably. Magtoto reported that the enemy was very active. He hoped the enemy would not
make a breakthrough too quickly.

The road was filled with motor vehicles now. They raised a great roar that the enemy could not
but have heard. Foot troops with their rifles slung on their shoulders moved in single column on
either side of the road laboring under their packs.

No loud commands were allowed. Commands or corrections on the march were passed on
down the line in low voices. The withdrawal was being executed in an unhurried manner but
the me i clearly were on edge.

To say that there is something unpleasant about moving back is to understate a very strong
negative feeling because to move back is to accept defeat, to admit failure. The orders to
move back can be clothed in subtle terms such as withdrawal, retrograde movements,
strategic withdrawals, or detachment movements; but to the man who has to move back it
simply means retreat. It means his effort was not good enough. The enemy was licking him.
Many a man in that column as he moved on with apparent unconcern had mixed feelings. Only
this afternoon, he was the peer of his enemy; tonight he was leaving the fight, turning tail, and
running back.

My driver inserted our car into the column and we moved out, too. I felt a pang of sadness as
the car moved on. That old Command Post that we were leaving had been good to us. It
protected us through shelling, bombing, and strafing. We lived in it for two weeks with no
untoward events. Only once when Major Campo, our G2, was wounded by enemy strafing did
its protection fail us.

In that Command Post, General Lim made some important decisions such as when he ordered
a counterattack when the 41st Infantry was pushed back for the first time. The counterattack
recovered the lost ground. The decision was most opportune, its execution truly psycho-
logically favorable. From that time on, after an enemy breakthrough at any point, local
commanders launched local counterattacks without awaiting orders.

In that Command Post, General Lim showed one and all that he had an iron will and a soft
heart. At night, during lulls in the fighting, he would telephone his unit commanders showing
them his concern, talking to them as though they were his sons. He would remind them that he
was depending on them to hold out. His unit commanders did not fail him. The enemy never
got through our lines.

In the Command Post, for the first time since the war started, the members of our Division staff
came to really know one another's ability as we exchanged opinions at staff conferences
among ourselves and with General Lim.

From that Command Post, General Lim directed the resistance of the 41st Division in Abucay
which with justifiable pride I say was the greatest battle in Bataan and hence of the Philippines
itself in this War.

But now, we were moving back. The greatest battle in the defense of the Philippines was
ended and our Division moving back. Could it have held further? Only time and later events
would tell. For now, all we knew was that we were moving back; retreating, withdrawing. It
made no difference what term one chose to use.

But there was one thing we were sure of and proud of. Abucay we knew was gone, and the
enemy had won. But they won their victory at a tremendous loss to them because of the
unfaltering way our men as a whole had fought for sixteen days in Abucay.

For sixteen furious days, our men fought single-mindedly while the enemy bombed and
shelled. Unrelentingly, they engaged savage veteran Japanese troops freshly sent in. For
sixteen days, they withstood enemy sniping. For sixteen days, they went almost without food.

They were clothed in nothing but their khaki shirts and shorts and blue denim uniforms. They
wore no headgear more protective than coconut helmets and their denim fatigue caps. But
they fought redoubtably. For sixteen days and nights without relief they took the worst, and the
most punishment the Japanese had dealt out thus far in the war. They took it all and meted it
out themselves.

Day and night when the Japanese attempted to break through our tactical wires, our men
mowed them down with wellemplaced machine guns. As more Japanese were sent to recover
their dead, each wave was likewise hit and their pile of dead grew as they continued to fall on
the dead they were trying to recover.

When the Japanese breakthrough at the 41st Infantry sector finally came, it happened not
because they had broken our wires, for this they continued to fail to do. They did so by using
their dead. Piling bodies, one on top of another, they stepped on their dead so they could jump
over our wires. Because they could not break our wires they circulated stories that our
protective wires were charged with electricity, that the earth in Bataan seethed and boiled
under their feet when they tried to break through.

For over two weeks of hell, our men were engaged in fighting so intense and constant that
those who were hit could not be attended to on the spot. Our chaplains, crawling to the
wounded, had to help our Medical Aid men tend to them. For over two weeks, the men
underwent enemy shelling that was so effective that the dead as they lay in the field where
they fell were hit again and again. It was not possible to recover the bodies fast enough. The
stench of death -- among the Filipinos and the Japanese alike -- was so great that for four or
five kilometers around, especially at night, it filled those who smelled it with horror and awe.

That, in summary, was Abucay, the culmination of the enemy's relentless, mighty, concerted,
and determined thrust to bend us once and for all. We who lived through it look back and see
in the once peaceful countryside the backdrop of a nightmare and offer a prayer for those
among us who fought and did not survive and cannot tell their story. We fervently hope that
history will declare that the sacrifice they offered at the altar of freedom was not in vain.
 PART THREE
SAMAT

CHAPTER 1

New Line, Old Trails

Thus, the 41st Division went on its withdrawal to Samat. Arriving in Balanga en route to Samat,
Major Domaoal and I found its plaza in total confusion. The foot troops which had taken the
back road had merged with the motor vehicles. There was congestion as the motor column got
tangled up with the foot troops. Because silence was required, horns could not be sounded.

The foot troops moved on slowly, their advance impeded by the trucks. It seemed the men now
realized they were moving back because the enemy was stronger. They all wanted to get out
as fast as they could, but they could not because the trucks were all around. The drivers of the
trucks must have felt the same way as the milling throng of solid shadows. Soon the column
could not move any farther.

Someone came to my car. "Is that you, Bert?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, recognizing the voice of Captain Narvaez, "Major Domaoal's with me."

Narvaez offered to give Major Domaoal a ride. The major accepted it.

"Yes, I'll go ahead with you, Narvaez," he said.

"Bert will have to stay and untangle this jam."

"What a crowd," Narvaez remarked." And this is an orderly withdrawal. No wonder a rout is so
disastrous."

Getting back in my car, I asked my driver William if he thought we could get through.

"It will be hard to do, Sir," he said. "The car in front of us can't move. There are just too many
people."

I told him to turn the engine off, and gave him the last pack of Camels from six cartons General
Lim had given me for Christmas.

I had started to doze off when all of a sudden I was startled by a loud explosion that was
quickly followed by another. The enemy was shelling the plaza. The crowd dispersed in all
directions and the plaza soon was empty. When the shelling stopped, the trucks started to
move again. I had William drive on, too.

Before long, we were on the open road toward Pilar. We continued on until we got to the
wooden bridge across the Tiawer River near Km. 148. At this point I had William leave the road
and drive into the fields to the right of us. I told him to stop under a mango tree and get some
sleep.

"Sir," William asked, "Why did we withdraw? We were holding the enemy."

"Yes, we were holding them, I said, "but they have penetrated from Natib and are now very
close to our rear. In fact, I don't know how long we'll be on this new line before we have to fight
again."

"Did the Japanese know about our getting out, Sir?" he asked, "Is that why they shelled us in
Balanga?"

I told him I did not think so; that I thought the firing by the enemy was interdiction fire.
Something they did periodically. If the Japanese has been shelling us, I said, they would have
kept on firing instead of stopping after two rounds.

As we sat talking, other cars came up and stopped. Trucks did too, unloaded and moved out
again, as our instructions were to turn all vehicles over to the Motor Pool on arriving at Km.
148. Before I knew it, I myself had fallen asleep. It was early morning when I woke.

I went to the river to have a wash. The sun was not up yet and the cool flowing water was nice.
I bathed leisurely and stayed in the water until I started to feel cold. When I got back to the car,
William had a breakfast of corned beef and bread all ready to eat.

Some men arrived while we were eating; we shared our breakfast with them. The men were a
little uncomfortable eating with an officer; I told them to help themselves to whatever food we
had. I knew they had to be hungry. All through last night I had ridden in my car. These men
had walked.

“Did you have a fairly easy walk?" I asked one of them. "No, Sir," he said. "It was easy enough
at first. After being in our foxholes continuously for days, it was nice to be able to walk again.
But after we got to Balanga, it became difficult. Because we'd had very little food these past
days, Sir, we got tired very easily. And in Balanga, we were shelled again. One of our trucks
was hit and many of our men ran from cover to cover, like I did, until we got to the bridge south
of Balanga. There, we reassembled and continued to walk again."

“Where's your unit now?"

“In the field over there, Sir," he said, indicating their location. "I asked for permission to leave.
to bathe and look for some food. Early this morning we passed some camote and sincamas (a
turniplike vegetable) fields. We dug up some to eat. Our officers allowed us to do so and they
ate some, too. We were all hungry and tired."

When we finished breakfast, I instructed William to report to the Motor Pool. He said goodbye,
then saluted. I returned his salute, extended my hand, and wished him luck. William had been
loyal brave, and respectful.

With one of the men who had eaten with us, I walked to where I had left General Lim the day
before. The General was up and dressed when I reported to him at his temporary Command
Post. He asked how the withdrawal had been. I told him what I had seen. He indicated that our
temporary Command Post was too close to the Main Line of Resistance.

"Go farther in and look for a good one," he said.

Major Domaoal notified me that he and Captain Chioco would also be looking that morning.
We decided to go together. We followed the Catmon Trail southward keeping our eyes open for
any site good for a Command Post. We wanted a place that was flat enough for convenience,
defiladed from the front and sides, accessible from the front, with exits to the rear. In that
mountain country, it was difficult to find a flat place wider than twenty feet except on the ridges.

Continuing to go deeper into the interior, we crossed the Catmon River at least twice. We
found old trails which the 14th Engineers of the Philippine Scouts had cut and blazed in earlier
years before the war during their annual maneuvers in Bataan. After years of disuse young
trees had begun to grow again on the trails.
We continued walking on the Catmon Trail and found that it deadended on a hillside. There
was no extension there. It became clear that our sector had no exits to the rear, just mountain
fastnesses, hills, and streams. If pushed back, we would have nowhere to go.

Major Domaoal, Captain Chioco, and I retraced our steps and continued our search for a better
Command Post until we came upon an intersection of trails going up a hill. On a big tree there
pointing to one of the trails was a sign that said "To Limay." On another tree was a sign that
pointed to another trail, "To Orion." Limay and Orion were nearby towns. As the most junior
and the youngest of the three officers, I was elected to go up the trails to investigate further.

First, I went on the Limay trail and after a steep climb came upon flat ground overgrown with
buho (a variety of bamboo) trees. I walked on the flat terrain for about twenty minutes and
found that it merged with a rough, wooded area covered with big trees and a dense
undergrowth. The trail was clear and apparently did lead to Limay.

Next, I made the steep ascent up the Orion trail. For a while this trail paralleled the Limay trail,
then it swerved away into a heavily. wooded area on rough terrain. Satisfied that Orion was not
very far away, I rejoined Major Domaoal and Captain Chioco.

The three of us decided that where we were, where the trails that led to Limay and Orion
converged, would make a good Command Post. The river bank around the area was flat for
about twenty feet along the river. To the left of the river, where there were two streams, was a
flat area of about fiftybyeighty yards.

The steep hillsides on either bank provided defilade on the sides. The stream bending at this
point and the steep bank provided some defilade from the front. It did not provide any real
defilade from the rear, but the trees were big and tall there and the underbrush lush. These
would provide a screen from aerial observation if we were careful with our tents and kitchen
smoke. The trails to Orion and Umay were our exits to the rear.

"Are you sure we can't be bombed there?" General Lim asked when we reported back.

"Atienza can give you an expert's opinion," Captain Chioco said. “He's the engineer."
"Unless those Japanese pilots follow the river," I said, "we'll be safe enough." We were to
remember that remark later on.
"All right," General Lim said, "we'll move there immediately."

We completed the transfer of our Command Post. We spent the rest of the day and the day
after building shelters for offices and for sleeping. Latrines were dug; benches and tables were
crudely made from green timber. Roofs were constructed using canvas shelter halves or buho.
By the afternoon of 27 January, we were established in our new Command Post by the
Catmon River. This was to be our home and headquarters for the next two months of the war.
The completion of the Command Post was very timely for the very next we were to direct
operations from there. Another business that needed our attention was the organization of our
new line. As details of the transfer of our Command Post were being taken care of, Captain
Ojeda and I -- walking from our right point -- checked machine emplacements, siting of
foxholes, and clearing of field of fire. Getting this kind of work done was not so difficult now.
After their excellent organization of the ground in Abucay the men could now be left to work by
themselves.

In Abucay, every detail had to be taught, every correction explained to them. Here, they
required little supervision by the officers. The men were in high spirits, too. Having had fresh
food and being unharassed for the first time since 8 January they were more at ease and
worked well.

Proceeding to the area of the unit that had been designated,as the covering shell for our
withdrawal, Ojeda and I learned that that unit had stayed up through the night and fought the
enemy till the early dawn when they had to disengage themselves and withdraw to our new
line. We heard a story of tense apprehension, courage, despair, but finally, of hope.

"Do you know that my S-4 Lieutenant Padialan was almost captured?" Major Magtoto, the
commanding officer of the covering shell unit asked us. He called Padialan and had him tell his
story.

"It was about 6:00 a.m.," Padialan recounted. "I was trying to withdraw the rest of our supplies
when it happened. Three of my men were loading the last truck when we were fired upon from
the woods in the draw to our right. I had everyone get on the truck and although the truck was
not yet fully loaded I told the driver to go, to take a chance at escaping through the woods to
the left. I knew that the trail there led to the Hacienda Abucay Road.

"Suddenly we were stopped by a squad of Japanese soldiers. We had to drop our weapons.
They came and searched us and asked for food. We had some canned goods that had not
been loaded. We showed the Japanese where those were.

"Then we noticed that as they busied themselves with the food, they stopped paying attention
to us. I figured that if we could run fast enough we could reach the thick woods and escape
through the trail. We hoped that as soon as we had passed the ridge, they would not find us.

"While the Japanese soldiers were opening the cans and chatting excitedly among
themselves, I signaled to my men to follow me and we ran. We had reached the woods when
the Japanese soldiers realized what had happened and they fired at us. We kept going until we
got to the Hacienda Abucay Road.
"Making sure that we were not followed, we took the back road to Balanga. In Balanga, we
joined the Artillery that was moving back. We arrived late last night. Sir, we thought we surely
killed. "

"You're lucky they were hungry," I said.

"You're lucky you had the nerve to take a chance," Ojeda added,

Later, as we were eating our packed lunches, Ojeda and I talked about our withdrawal to
Samat.

"Do you know," I said, "that a truck was hit by the enemy shelling in Balanga?"

"Yes, I was going to tell you about that," he said, "'It was our M.P. Company truck. About twenty
men were killed or wounded. Lieutenant Crisol got wounded, too. He's lucky he jumped into a
ditch and ducked. A shell fragment cut his left shoulder loop into two and nicked his neck just
enough to get him a Purple Heart. Another onefourth of an inch and his jugular vein would
have been cut," the surgeon said.

"Isn't it a coincidence," I said, "that of our staff only two should be wounded and both of them
should be from the G-2? You and I were on the Main Line of Resistance during the fighting
more than the G2 was. Neither you nor I was wounded. Nothing to show for the risks we've
taken," I joked.

"I'd rather be whole than wounded," Ojeda said. "You and I can tell our stories. Those who like
us will believe them. Those who don't won't, even if we had a wound to show them." I
appreciated what he saying.

The evening of 27 January, we had a nice dinner of wild chicken that some Negritos had shot
for us in exchange for cigarettes. We had made the deal on General Lim's instructions.

General Lim was always thinking of his men. I had heard that while he was in Baguio he
arranged to have a separate mess for his staff. While the officers of the other divisions there
ate individually his men dined together. While we were in Tagaytay, he looked after his men in
a similar fashion. He even brought his personal cook with him.

Early the next morning on 28 January taking my orderly along, I went to inspect the
establishment of the Outpost Line of Resistance by the 1st Battalion of the 41st Infantry in their
area. To get there our first job was to get ourselves across the Catmon River. We did this
jumping from stone to stone.

Going up a steep incline where the trail was narrow, we reached a waterfall. Its roar was like
music in the stillness of the forest. The water coming from a stream cascading about forty feet
down sent out a rainbow spray as it plunged foaming and frothing into the pool where we were.
It was beautiful to see. Laid against the monotony of huge trees and the thick underbrush
which was Mt. Samat, the waterfall was a welcome relief.

Arriving at the 41st Engineers camp on our way to our destination, I went in to say hello to
everyone at the Engineers' Command Post. I found Lieutenant Tinio, the Battalion
Commander, and his staff discussing work schedules. A new line meant new trails to be cut,
obstacles to be constructed, installations to be perfected, maybe land mines too. Engineer
tools had to be distributed, or requisitioned and drawn from Corps of Engineers depots. Tinio
sought my opinion and advice regarding some of his problems.

They were planning to improve the Catmon Trail, build bridges across the numerous crossings,
and reconnoiter for trails to the rear, he explained. The trail passing across Mt. Samat was too
steep; he was planning to construct another that would go around the mountain. He had very
good ideas, the result, I was sure, of effective reconnaissance work. With his men around him,
I commended Tinio for his initiative and foresight.

Commending a unit commander in front of his subordinates was something I had done many
times before. Subordinates need to have faith in their commander. To me, one way of
promoting this confidence is by having a neutral senior officer such as I, in this instance give
a favorable opinion of the commander in front of his subordinates. As Division Inspector
General, it was my job to see that assignments were accomplished smoothly. The case of the
41st Engineer Battalion which was my battalion when our Division was inducted into the
USAFFE was a personal matter to me. Having been the commanding officer of the unit, I
wanted to be sure the work the Engineers did turned out creditably.

On the day General Lim had called for me to say he was designating me as Division Inspector
General, he had asked if I could recommend someone to be the new Engineer Battalion
Commander. I recommended Lieutenant Tinio because I consider age and maturity important
to command.

Tinio had been a gentleman farmer and businessman before he was called to active duty. He
had run his business successfully. I knew that helped by the extremely able though younger
Lieutenant de Leon who had been my -- and would be his -- Executive Officer, Tinio would run
the Battalion successfully. My deductions about Tinio bore me out in Abucay where the
Engineer Battalion did good work, both as a construction unit and as Division Reserve.

After talking with the staff of the Engineer Battalion, I proceeded on my way to check the
Outpost Line of Resistance being established by the 1st Battalion of the 41st Infantry.

Passing Km. 148, my orderly and I had to cross the wooden bridge over the Tiawer River. I
noted that the bridge would have to be prepared for demolition to serve as an antitank obstacle
in case the enemy should succeed in bringing in tanks that far. We crossed our Main Line of
Resistance where the men were busy digging foxholes and machine gun emplacements and
camouflaging them. Then we waded across the Tiawer River, walked another kilometer
through a sugarcane field and a rice field, and arrived at our destination.

Captain Zobel, a cavalry officer who was a member of Philippine high society was the
Commander of the 1st Battalion of the 41st Infantry. He joined the Philippine Army around
1938 along with some others from his social class.

Throughout all the fighting in Abucay, Zobel's battalion had been on the Main Line of
Resistance. As I approached his unit, I remembered the day I had gone to visit his Command
Post to assess the situation in his sector following his unit's withdrawal due to heavy enemy
pressure, and our conversation then. By the nipa shack which was his Command Post I had
found Lieutenant Lino J. Inciong, his Executive Officer.

"What's new?" I had asked Inciong.

"We had to move out last night, Sir," he said. "The enemy shelling and infantry fire was more
than we could bear. It was the worst we'd ever experienced." I walked into the shack but Zobel
was not there. His orderly said he was under a tamarind tree and took me to him. I found Zobel
there, asleep, wrapped in his O.D. blanket. His handsome Castillian face was haggard and his
eyes had deep purple rings around them. His face which was usually closelyshaved had a
threeday stubble. Just there, he did not look like the "society top" that he was but like any other
soldier catching a nap away from the sound of artillery fire.

"Hello, Captain," he said weakly in a hoarse voice as he opened his eyes. "This is a hell of a
life."

"Yes," I agreed. I produced some cigarettes and offered him a smoke which he readily
accepted. He talked about the action they had just been through, of enemy shelling for more
than a week, of lack of food, of his men having to stay in their dugouts, of his running out
during lulls to check his line then running for shelter again. He spoke of his men getting
wounded and not being cared for fast enough, of the enemy's final attack, and his subsequent
withdrawal in the night. He spoke of the resistance still being offered on their Battalion Reserve
Line. I had let him talk, then I spoke of how because of his Battalion's sacrifices our Division
was being talked about favorably in the rear area, And I reminded him that perhaps the best
thing for him to do next was to reorganize his unit and launch a counterattack.

"Yes, we'll do that," he said, "Tell General Lim I am not beaten. I won't fail him."

As I approached Zobel now, I found him looking like his old self. Newly shaved, with his hair
well groomed, neatly dressed in freshly ironed khaki, leather riding boots, and doughboy cap,
he looked every inch the fine officer that he was. His selfconfidence and enthusiasm were
apparent. Smoking his pipe, he gave orders to his men who all showed their obvious respect
for him.

"How's your Outpost Line of Resistance coming?" I asked him.

"I'm just getting started," he said. "My battalion's covering the Division Sector."

He showed me the line he had chosen. It was quite good. We discussed how he could best
organize it.

CHAPTER 2

Remember Erlinda

On our way back to the Division Command Post, as my orderly and I were passing the bridge
across the Catmon River, we heard firing coming from the direction of the 42nd Infantry sector
about a thousand yards in front of us. The firing, unmistakably, was by Japanese rifles and our
own Enfields. I took it to be a patrol skirmish and did not pay much attention to it. Not for a
moment did I imagine that the firing could have been the work of entrenched enemy troops
who had preceded us to the Tiawer River.

When I arrived at our Command Post, I found that the other staff officers had already started to
come in. Captain Chong had been checking our telephone wires. Captain Ojeda had been
checking on the organization of the ground. Captain Campo had been checking on combat
intelligence work.

It was dusk now. We had dinner before it got too dark to see. .

We were sitting around our bunks when General Lim called us to a conference at his tent, the
entrance to which had been cleared of vegetation and furnished with benches for visitors and
our staff. Conferences of this sort actually was Standard Operating Procedure for our staff now.
As we sat in the darkness during these conferences, only by the light of our cigarettes did we
manage to make out one another's faces.

Routinely, General Lim would ask each officer what he had to report for the day. The rest of us
would listen as the reporting officers gave their verbal reports. A discussion of the reports
would follow after which General Lim would give his decision as to what action to take. The
officer concerned would then prepare the necessary orders or execute the general's decision.

During these conferences, General Lim handed out cigarettes and cigars freely. Once in a
while coffee was served. Because of these conferences, the staff developed better
coordination as the war wore on. And the general's stock of cigarettes dwindled nightly.
During the conference on the night of 28 January, the firing that I had heard earlier on while on
my way to the CP was reported by G2 and corroborated by others who were on the line. The
firing, the 42nd Infantry Command Post informed us, was an exchange of shots between our
men and Japanese soldiers entrenched on the banks of the Tiawer River. No one knew when
the enemy had gotten there, but because they had machine guns and were entrenched we
deduced that they had probably been there even before we arrived from Abucay two days
earlier. General Lim gave orders to drive the enemy out.

The next morning, the staff started to execute the general's order. The work of supervising the
organization of the ground was distributed among Captain Ojeda, his assistants, and myself.

We soon found out that the pocket to our immediate front where the enemy firing was coming
from was well entrenched with the enemy. For the next two days whenever we attacked,
losses on both sides resulted.

By the end of the second day of fighting, we judged by the volume of the enemy's fire that the
enemy had to be much more than a platoon. They were covering a sector with a width of about
four hundred yards and also were deployed in depth. A mere platoon could not do that.
After the third day of fighting during which our casualties were significant, we held a
conference in the front lines between the Division staff and the staff of the two regiments that
were on the line. We decided to counterattack. The enemy had to be pushed out immediately
or they would have time to reinforce and continue to harass our troops. Selected as leaders for
this operation were officers who had made a name for themselves in Abucay. The
counterattack was scheduled for the afternoon of 2 February.
At about 10:30 a.m. on 2 February, we received an important telephone message from Corps
Headquarters, "Air support available at 1:45 p.m. today," it said. We were jubilant. At last
airplanes were available again. Knowing that we had ceased to have any airplanes, if they
were now available, they had to be reinforcements from outside the Philippines. The air
mastery of the Japanese over Philippine skies, we rejoiced, would now be contested if not
wrested from them.

The telephone message was hastily transmitted to the front lines to raise morale. We did not
think we would need airplanes for the counterattack of the afternoon, but it was nice to know
that enemy aircraft would no longer bomb and strafe without interference.

About noon, out in the front lines, I asked the men who would be counterattacking how they
felt. Their answers indicated their morale was excellent. They would attack in the afternoon,
they said, knock the Japanese out of their entrenchment, and take a rest. To help keep their
morale up, I reminded them about airplanes being available at 1:45 p.m.

“Sir,” one smart soldier responded, "planes or no planes, we'll defeat the enemy this
afternoon." The rest of his group concurred.

At precisely 3:30 p.m., in the midst of heavy vegetation and on rolling terrain, preceded by
machine gun fire, our troops advanced on the enemy. There was furious firing. The enemy
answered back with effective machine gun and mortar fire.

At around 5:30 p.m., we noticed clouds of smoke rising from the enemy positions and we
noticed that the firing from there had become desultory and intermittent. This gave the men
heart and they pressed on until they got to the enemy line. They found out that the enemy had
retreated leaving their dead and wounded behind; some in shallow holes, others burning. Our
men pursued the retreating enemy for about a thousand yards then stopped and left the
enemy in flight.

Before it got dark, we gathered our men together, brought the wounded back, and hastily
buried our dead. "If the enemy does not back tomorrow, we'll give our men a more decent
funeral," the officerincharge said.

That night, our staff conference was livelier than usual as each staff officer who was present at
the attack related his story. Everyone was exultant that our men were successful in driving the
enemy out. Another reason for rejoicing was that now we knew: our men could depended upon
to take the offensive.

In Abucay, we had given them credit for defensive action. This new attack, while local in
aspect, was offensive; and the enemy who was reputed to prefer to die rather than retreat had
retreated. Surely, only a few of them must have been able to retreat for about a hundred and
ten bodies were left behind. Official G2 reports placed enemy strength at that encounter to
have been at least one company.

That night, we put the men on alert anticipating a counterattack by the enemy the following
morning. No attack came, then or the day after. Patrols we sent into the area beyond the
Outpost Line of Resistance reported no enemy activity.
Two days later, wanting to know for sure that the enemy had left the area, we sent out a strong
patrol to reconnoiter farther to our front, left, and right. It met with no resistance and came
upon evidence that the enemy had departed taking a westward route.

On the spot where the enemy had resisted most strongly, we found what must have been its
Command Post and Quartermaster Dump. Stores of telephone wires, canned goods, bicycles,
clothes - some used and bloody were found scattered in confusion indicating that the enemy
had withdrawn in a hurry.

We found some shallow graves. Exposed in one grave in the incipiency of decomposition was
the bare leg of a Japanese soldier We exhumed the body and buried it deeper. We also found
posts that were painted white and marked with Japanese characters. These stood over loose
mounds of earth which we assumed were graves. W sent one of those posts to Corps G2 for
deciphering.

Scattered all over the place were papers covered with Japanese characters. We likewise sent
those that looked important to Corps G2 for interpretation.

We found numerous maps the most interesting of which was reprint of the U.S. Army War
Department's map of the Bataan area produced by the II Corps showing the disposition of
USAFFE troops in the II Corps Sector. It included our General Main Line of Resistance.

The first question the reprint evoked was: How did the Japanese get hold of a U.S. War
Department Scale 1:20,000 Topographic Map? The map that we came upon was not one the
Japanese could have captured in Abucay because it was printed on bamboo paper that must
have been manufactured in Japan. It also had been reproduced on a smaller scale. But it
contained all the marginal information, including the Harriman index found on 1:20,000 U.S.
War Department maps.

My initial conclusion was that the map had to be a reduced reproduction of our own map. The
Japanese possibly, had found copies of this particular map at Fort McKinley before coming to
Abucay; had it reproduced by photography or by having it copied by hand, and then reduced it.
But on second thought, I wondered: was it possible the Japanese had gotten hold of
confidential maps even before the war? Had they sent surveyors to Bataan to sketch the
terrain?

It was common knowledge that there were Japanese who had worked on lumber concessions
in Bataan long before the war started Many Japanese artisans had built charcoal kilns in the
mountains of Bataan. Were those artisans commissioned to make a map of Bataan?

If Japan had indeed had designs on the Philippines, they had to be interested in Bataan
because as early as the 1920s the . U.S. Army had held periodic maneuvers there.

My latter deduction proved to be the correct one when after our surrender the Japanese
displayed to us a map of Corregidor showing positions, tunnels, and other points. The map
showed all these important features written out in Japanese characters. They were designated
using Japanese names such as "Sakura Hei”.

Another question which our finding of the map evoked was: How did the Japanese know about
our Main Line of Resistance? Could they have guessed where it was from studying the terrain?
We considered it more likely that aerial photographs had been taken and the line roughly
sketched in.

Another interesting find made by our G2 at the site where the Japanese had resisted most
strongly was considered so important that we made it the theme of a propaganda piece that
we wrote and entitled "Remember Erlinda." This piece was sent to Corregidor and broadcast
verbatim by Colonel Romulo's "Voice of Freedom."

Probing around the place from where the enemy had retreated, our came upon a shallow
grave from which two pairs of women's feet stuck out one of which was pedicured. The bodies
were dug out and the grisly find revealed two young girls in their underclothes. One was young
and pretty. Her delicate hands and soft skin indicated she was from the middle class and had
been wellcared for. She wore a white chemise on which was embroidered the name "Erlinda."
The other was older but she, too, was young. Judging by her hands and feet, we guessed that
she was probably a servant or chaperon who belonged to a social class lower than Erlinda's.

Who were these girls? Why were they halfnaked? Why had they been shot in the back? Dark
and improper guesses troubled the minds of all who learned about the girls. Could the girls
have been part of the great number of evacuees who fled to Bataan from many points in
Luzon? Or were they local Bataan girls? That they had been captured and abused was never
questioned. As to their having been shot in the back, we guessed that the girls had probably
tried to escape from their tormentors in the night, been found out, and shot. But we did not
disregard the thought that the Japanese simply could have shot them in cold blood after
ravishing them

Then, as if to answer the questions in our minds, one of our soldiers searching into the clothes
of a dead Japanese soldier found among his papers a picture of a Filipino girl in meztiza dress
(a popular, dressy native Filipino ladies' attire) wearing a paste jewel crown and looking like a
May Day Queen. It was a picture of the dead girl, Erlinda. On the back of the photograph,
written in fine feminine letters was a dedication, "To my Album." It was signed, "Erlinda." The
word "Erlinda" was written in letters similar to the embroidered "Erlinda" on the girl's chemise.
On the lower right hand corner of the photograph were the photographer's name and address
which was Pasig, Rizal.

We reconstructed Erlinda's story as being that of a girl from the province of Rizal who had
relatives in Bataan. She either had been caught in Bataan by the war; or with her family had
evacuated to Bataan like many others who when it became clear that Bataan would be
defended had evacuated there to be behind the American lines rather than be caught in their
homes by the Japanese. The picture was probably taken when Erlinda had been a school
queen or a queen of the annual Flores de Mayo, a monthofMay festival very popular in Filipino
towns. Whatever she may have been, Erlinda was dead. She became a symbol of Filipino
womanhood, desecrated, insulted, injured by the savage invaders; one of many sacrifices laid
at the altar of freedom. We surmised that the dead soldier was the one who had caught Erlinda
and her companion; that he had kept the photograph as a reminder of what he considered an
adventure, a prize to show his friends.

The words "Remember Erlinda" became our war cry as we fought the enemy in our second
position in Bataan. "Remember Erlinda" made hearts leap, and blood boil and spring again and
again at the enemy who had despoiled and were despoiling Filipino womanhood

Following the composition of "Remember Erlinda," our G1 officer produced another piece of
propaganda designed to arouse our men to greater effort, to make them hate the Japanese
more than ever. The words for the piece were carefully chosen and the hatetheJapanese
theme laid thick. Among our men were some who still had not grasped the significance of the
war and still were asking, "What are we fighting for?" This composition was directed to them
especially.

Copies of the piece were sent to the front and to Colonel Romulo's Press Relations Office.
Frontline unit commanders were made to read it to their men. The men's reactions were
observed. As was expected, they were roused to hatred. Thus far, the more ignorant among
the men had been fighting mainly to defend themselves. Now they also saw themselves, the
whole lot of them in Bataan, as suffering privations for a nobler cause: upholding and
defending Filipino womanhood.

The reports we received of Japanese atrocities inflicted on Filipino womanhood were

numerous. They bordered on the incredible. But they were true.

I remember the case of a prominent Balanga family. Early in February, this family or what
remained of it came through our lines. There was the aged father, who was stooped, looked
defeated, but still displayed tangible signs of past prosperity and respectability; the aged
mother, who had become a nervous wreck; and their pretty young daughters. One had gone
raving mad; one was morose and silent; the prettiest of the three was halfconscious and
bleeding profusely.

They did not need to tell their story but the old man explained: "A group of about thirty
Japanese soldiers caught us as we were trying to run away from our dugout. After slapping me
and kicking me in the stomach, they tied me and my wife up. Then they abused my children.
Before my eyes, these girls whom I had reared in Christian chastity were abused brutally,
savagely, by those thirty Japanese soldiers. Please help us get to a hospital before my
daughter bleeds to death. "

Then there was the story of a civilian driver who had been attached to the 41st Engineers
because he owned a bus. We used his bus during our withdrawal from Batangas. He lost it
when it was bombed in Bataan. During our last days in Abucay, the man had disappeared.
When he reappeared in the middle of February, this was his story.

"After my truck was bombed, I was stunned, Sir", he told me. "I do not remember what I did
following the bombing, but I found myself in a house in Salian. In the family were an old man
who was a widower and his grownup daughters. They were good to me and I helped around
the house.

"One of the daughters was a widow who was on the family way. She was strong and helpful.
Her husband had been killed in the bombing of the civilian camp just behind our lines so she,
her father, and sister moved farther back to Salian. She took care of me when I was halfcrazy
after the bombing of my truck. The other daughter was unmarried. She was very good to me,
too.
"When our troops withdrew from Abucay, the family was not ready to move out. I helped them
get their things together. The next day, the time of the pregnant woman came. Her father and
sister could not help her.

"I knew about helping in childbirth because I had helped my wife in her four deliveries, so I did
what I could to help the woman. The child was stillborn. I buried it and marked the grave. That
day and the next, the woman was too weak to even sit up."

"The father and sister had left us to look for food in the forest. A group of people who passed
us said the Japanese were already in the town of Abucay. I carried the weak woman to a small
hut farther back and tended to her. Her father and sister never came back.

"For three days, I took care of the woman. I foraged, cooked, and fed her. She was very weak.
Although she insisted on getting up, I saw to it that she stayed in bed because I knew what
pains she had been through. I cared for her as though she were my own wife for I believed it
was my duty to do so. I have a wife and children in Rizal. They have not heard from me,
neither I from them since 23 December. They, too, need help. I am sure that if I help others
who are in need someone will help my family who also, certainly, must be in need of help. I
took very good care of the woman.

"One day, three Japanese soldiers came. I was at the well, washing clothes. Noticing them, I
ran to the house to make sure the woman was in bed, to make her look weak and sick which
she was. The soldiers questioned me. I told them that I was a farmer, that my wife was sick
and I was taking care of her. They looked at me and the woman. Then they repeated what I
had tried to tell them using signs. I nodded, thinking that they understood. They ate at the
house, laughed at the woman and me, then left.

"When they had gone, I prepared to move out. The woman could stand and walk a little and we
started out that afternoon. By night we were about two kilometers to the rear. The woman who
had trudged along was now too weak to proceed as she had started to bleed. We rested in the
forest that night. I did not sleep. I stood guard over the woman who by now I had come to
regard as a sacred, fragile thing that I had to save.

"In the morning, we started out again. Since she was very weak I carried her on my shoulders.
She was not very heavy but I was weak and sleepy so we progressed slowly. Toward mid-day,
a group of ten Japanese soldiers intercepted us and beat me up. One of them asked me some
questions in broken Tagalog. I answered and tried to make him know that the woman was sick,
that she had just given birth. The woman looked very pale as she lay on the grass.

"The Japanese soldiers laughed and beat me up some more then they tied me to a tree. Then
all ten soldiers raped that weak, sick woman. I saw her start to bleed. I saw her die with her
face distorted by pain, hatred, and humiliation. I heard the woman moan, then scream; then
her voice subsided into a whisper which ended in death.

"I kept trying to get free but I could not. When the ten soldiers had satisfied themselves, one of
them slapped and kicked me until I passed out. When I came to, it was broad daylight and I
was untied. Whether the Japanese released my bonds or a kind passerby untied me, I do not
know. As in a dream I saw the dead woman lying before me. I touched the cadaver. It was
cold. Rigor mortis had set in. Mechanically, I dug a grave using tree branches and my nails. I
buried the body, that body that I had taken care of for what seemed a very long time to me."

"If it had been my own wife, Sir," the driver finished, "I would not have been more careful.
Perhaps you cannot understand my feelings; I cannot describe them any better."

The man was in tears and was staring blankly when he finished telling his story. Having relived
the unpleasant dream, he was apparently trying to determine what else he could have done.
He was a defeated general, fighting his battle all over again in his mind, mentally conducting a
critique to find out what his failings were so that he might learn from them. I felt helpless. There
was not much I could say or do to console him.
 PART F0UR
INTERLUDE

CHAPTER 1

Tightening Defenses

Following our 2 February encounter with the Japanese, our sector remained quiet. We took
advantage of the lull to organize our sector in depth. The organization of the ground was
speeded up and improved. Differences in limiting points were ironed out. Where necessary, we
shifted our lines about to improve their field of fire. Our Outpost Line of Resistance was
organized as a permanent line of defense and manned heavily. We worked to make our
defensive position really strong.

Enemy artillery was busy everyday but there was no fresh infantry action. As days of
intermittent shelling left our positions pockmarked with shell holes but very few casualties, our
men became unmindful of the enemy's artillery. They had to be rallied continuously as
inactivity made them realize they were hungry, tired, and poorly clothed.

Since 29 January, our Motor Transport unit had become useless to our Division because there
were no roads to the rear from our position. Supplies had to be brought in from the rear by
pack mules trodding on foot trails too narrow and steep for motor vehicles. The 41st Engineers
were building a trail to the rear but with only one company and limited hand tools, the work
progressed slowly. The trail the Engineers were building was of primary concern to our Division
because the foot trails were not reliable. Moreover, the pack mules were not always on
schedule.

As we worked to tighten our defenses, the men in the front soon found themselves occupied
with yet another job. Looking for food became their new task.

Patrols sent out on reconnaissance usually did not encounter the enemy as the enemy in our
front apparently had withdrawn. These patrols came back with rice from rice stacks left by
fleeing owners; carabao meat from animals that had been abandoned by owners who had
evacuated behind our lines; fruits from orchards no longer tended; sugarcane from neglected
cane fields. The return of the patrols was awaited eagerly by the men of the units they
belonged to.

Our nightly conferences now had grown shorter for there was little to report from day to day.
Nothing of importance was happening. The frontline commanders had little to do in their
command posts and were out on the line very often.

On 10 February, orders for promotions for the Philippine Army contingent of the USAFFE were
published. Almost all of the officers of our Division were due for promotion. Third lieutenants
were performing the work of company commanders, ordinarily done by captains. First
lieutenants were serving as battalion commanders. Captains were doing the work of majors,
lieutenant colonels, and colonels. Lieutenant colonels were doing the work of full colonels.

The earliest promotions in our Division went to the regimental commanders of the 41st and
43rd Infantry. The Division staff which was made up of captains, except for the Chief of Staff
who was a major, looked forward to likewise being promoted to lieutenant colonel. The Table of
Organization showed that this was the rank their positions carried. But the promotions the
senior staff officers received were less than what they had expected. While many third
lieutenants were promoted to captain, almost all of the senior staff officers were promoted to
major instead of lieutenant colonel. We were not disappointed, however. Simply getting
promoted did make us feel good.

As if to offset our joy, another kind of order came, an order to reduce our already meager
rations of rice, the most important food item in the Filipino diet. Before the war started, the
average rice consumption per soldier had been 225 grams per meal. On 10 February, in order
to stretch our rice supply, our rice ration was reduced to about 100 grams per soldier per day. It
was not possible to do this without lowering the resistance of the men, let alone their morale.

Shortly after 10 February, General Lim instructed me to look into the details of the action we
had been through in Abucay and our last encounter on the Samat line. As Inspector General, I
was to recommend for citation those men who had been exceptionally gallant in battle. He said
he needed to do this for documentation and morale purposes. I knew what he wanted. He was
looking for cases like that of Private Dinio who early in January while on patrol had killed a
Japanese officer in handtohand combat.

Since not much activity was going on, I had the time to go into the matter of gallantry and
reward. On my inspections, I instructed our unit commanders to recollect and report to me
cases of gallantry in action that they had noted in Abucay, attested to by two uninterested
witnesses. Upon receiving the reports, I went about interviewing the men concerned.
About 20 February, from Corps G2, we received the unbelievable report that General Homma,
the commander of the 14th Army of the Japanese Imperial Forces in the Philippines, had
committed suicide on orders from higher authorities. The Japanese 14th Army's assignment
was to capture the Philippines.
We rejoiced at the news. We took General Homma's reported suicide to be a concession of
defeat by the Japanese. When we had to withdraw from Abucay, we had admitted defeat. Now
the leader of the Japanese Army in the Philippines, we thought, had just done the same thing.
We were joyful; we thought we had won.

I recalled what General Lim had said about defeat and the defense of the Philippines. We
might lose, he had said, but if we made the victory of the Japanese in the Philippines too
expensive, we in a sense would be winners, too. In school our history course had taught us
about Pyrrhic victories, but our young minds could not fully comprehend how one could lose
and win at the same time. Abucay became our object lesson. Now we began to realize what
being victorious in defeat meant.

The reported suicide of General Homma made us feel that in spite of our losses, we had won
in Abucay after all. The news was circularized and the men's morale soared high. With the
fighting spirit, fortitude, and enthusiasm that the men felt about 20 February, if the order had
been given for them to go on the offensive, they would have done so with great passion.

The men were convinced that they were good. "Let us have planes," they said. "Give us food,
and we will march out of these mountains. We will drive the Japanese away." But they never
marched out of Bataan except as prisoners of war for the planes never came and food when it
arrived came in smaller and yet smaller quantities.

Meanwhile, the Japanese papers we had captured at the Tiawer River Command Post on 2
February and had sent to higher G2 Headquarters had been interpreted. One of these proved
to be very interesting. It was a regimental order to a lower unit, probably a battalion in which
were embodied the operations to be undertaken on our new PilarBagac Line. The orders were
for the enemy to launch a strong attack on the western slopes of Mt. Samat, then to proceed
around the mountain and strike in a southeasterly direction toward Limay. A Japanese holding
force was to contain the units of our Division that were in the vicinity of Kapot near Balanga.

The recipient of the order, clearly, was the unit our Division had encountered. Their orders
would have been carried out had we not just days earlier, given up our old line in Abucay for
our new one.

Evidently, the Japanese troops infiltrating from Natib along the Abo River had noted our
organization of the ground on the PilarBagac Line even as the fighting in Abucay had been
going on. There had been an operation independent of, but coincident with, the Japanese
attack in Abucay. Our withdrawals and subsequent occupation of our new line and the fight that
took place there on 2 February had caught the enemy unprepared for so strong an opposition
that they had withdrawn.

Only then did we fully realize the keen foresight which General MacArthur had exercised when
he ordered our withdrawal from Abucay at the time that he did. Had the withdrawal been
delayed a mere day or two, when the Japanese attacked on the western slopes of Mt. Samat
on 23 January they would have met with little resistance. They would have been able to gain
easy access to Mt. Samat and Limay at the same time that they were making their frontal
attack on us in Abucay. As things happened, however, the Japanese were unable to trap the
41st Division in Abucay. They also failed to gain the heights of Samat on 2 February 1942.

Apparently, the Japanese tried to carry out fully the regimental order we found at their Tiawer
River Command Post for in the sectors of the 31st and 51st Division there was action as well.
These divisions had a sector in front of Kapot Hill. They too, had to fight Japanese soldiers
deeply entrenched in an irrigation ditch there. For three days, they fought the enemy furiously.

Because the ground was quite open, the men of the 31st and 51st Divisions were mowed down
when they charged. Their machine guns were powerless against the Japanese who kept
themselves entrenched in the deep Irrigation ditch. In that encounter, two battalions of the 41st
Infantry of the 41st Division which had been detached from us after our withdrawal from
Abucay bore the brunt of the fight. The men of those units had measured the ability of the
Japanese infantry in Abucay and were confident they could lick the enemy. But days of fighting
met with no success.

During the fighting, a battery of 2.95 mountain guns that had been attached to the 41st Infantry
was used. Normally, artillery was used behind the infantry and in positions masked from
enemy observation. "A battery seen," a Field Artillery axiom has it, "is a battery lost." In this
terrain, however, there was no way of hiding the artillery and still expect it to be of use. One of
the lieutenant colonels in command, overruling the battery commander's objection, decided to
use the artillery with, and even forward of, the infantry position.
He had the 2.95 mountain guns set in position completely visible to the enemy. As was to be
expected, they were met by enemy fire, including machine gun firing. They were not subjected
to shelling, however, probably because the enemy artillery had not been emplaced; and
because the enemy's closeness to the belligerent lines at eighty yards did not allow them to
use their 105s without risking their own troops.

Under enemy machine gunfire, therefore, our men emplaced their guns. Creeping on their
bellies, the cannoneers passed ammunition from behind and cut fuses. As soon as the guns
were loaded, they were boresighted on the enemy and fired. After half a day of this, the enemy
no longer replied. When our infantry advanced on the enemy position, they found only the
enemy's dead there. Whatever survivors there may have been had fled.
The 51st Engineers who saw action in this encounter made an interesting find at the deserted
Japanese Command Post. This was a document that to me should be remembered alongside
"Remember Erlinda." Among the dead Japanese, one of the men of the 51st Engineers came
upon a body on which was pinned a letter written on clean linen paper in a woman's delicate
and nervous handwriting. The letter was worded pathetically but hopefully. I do not remember
the exact words of the letter now. I burned my copy when we surrendered. But the letter was
substantially as follows.

"To Brave Filipino Soldiers:

Do not lose hope. Keep fighting. You are beating the Japanese who have found you too
strong. They are withdrawing out of Bataan to San Fernando. I know this because I was
with General Nagahista when he inspected the troops in Bataan.
I am a captive Filipina who has been serving General Nagahista. I am his servant and
more than a servant. You know what I mean.
We Filipino women are praying for victory. And by God's
will, we will win.
Lone Filipina Captive”

CHAPTER 2

Celebration

Tuesday, 24 February was General Lim's birthday. We attended Mass celebrated on a crudely
built altar at the Division Command Post. The chaplain wore the usual priestly vestments; we
had most of the traditional accoutrements of a peacetime Mass. The men and officers came in
neat uniforms or whatever clothes they had available.

Suddenly during the Mass, through the thick foliage, the drone of airplanes came to our ears.
We listened intently then forgot all about the Mass as the planes came diving down at us.
Everyone in the congregation went down on his belly, everyone except for the priest who
unmindful of the danger went on with his officiation. His action reassured us and slowly we
started to rise.

The planes left shortly after strafing in the vicinity of our Quartermaster Depot. The priest
finished the Mass. We greeted General Lim.

When some of the staff left to conduct their daily inspections, they planned their morning's
activities so they could be back in time for lunch for today being the general's birthday, there
was to be special lunch for the members of the staff. There was going to be chicken, we were
sure, as we had awakened to the crowing of cocks that had arrived the night before. We were
to have roast pig and the ration of hard bread that we received the day before.

Lunch was what we had expected. We had roast pig, Hormel ham, boiled chicken, sweet peas,
and
Australian jam. After lunch, we presented a short program for General Lim. He was in good
humor and dished out jokes. There was goodnatured bantering all afternoon.

Our merriment was heightened when later in the day we received a G2 report from the front
lines saying the Japanese had withdrawn. Since 2 February we had had one or two patrol
clashes. Today when our patrol went out, they encountered no enemy. Instead, they found a
message from the Japanese pinned with a stick to the trunk of a banana tree which said the
Japanese were temporarily leaving the USAFFE in Bataan to give the USAFFE time to think
about the war and to surrender. Soon, however, the message added, the Japanese would be
back to blast every inch of Bataan.

The message was brought to General Lim who laughed at it and said that as usual the
Japanese simply would not admit defeat. Whether he believed the message or not, he did not
say, but he ordered Capt. Chioco to send Quartermaster troops to the front and beyond. If
there were no Japanese there, Capt. Chioco's men were to forage for rice left in stacks by the
owners. Carabao meat, fruits, and chicken were also to be procured.

During our staff conference that night, because of the G2 report that the Japanese had
withdrawn, we did not feel the tension of previous conferences. We felt like we were in
maneuvers, instead of fighting for our lives in a war. Our discussion of problems and opinions
gave way to reminiscences and thoughts about the war in its earlier stages: of the Division
Staff School in Baguio; of Tagaytay, Batangas, and Abucay; of President Quezon and General
MacArthur. We felt that we would not be harassed from the front now. If we could manage to
procure food, our men would be wellfed. Procuring food did not seem to be a problem
anymore. Right in front of us was rice, harvested and sheaved, waiting to be threshed and
milled. Only a kilometer or so away, there was fish in the streams and fruit in abandoned
orchards.

The following day, a hundred of our Quartermaster troops crossed our Main Line of Resistance
and Outpost Line of Resistance to forage for food. Seeing this, others on the lines followed
suit. Beyond the Outpost Line of Resistance clear into NoMan'sLand they walked. The front
took on the atmosphere of a huge town plaza during a fiesta, except that the men walking
around wore khaki and denim instead of bright multicolored shirts, and they were dirty and
ragged. Even up to late in the afternoon the traffic did not stop. The Quartermaster men and
those in the front lines took shifts at foraging. They all returned with food to spare.

The foraging continued for about a week. With their positions organized the men spent but little
time improving them. They spent most of their time looking for food instead.
They threshed by foot or hand the rice they took from the rice stacks; then they pounded the
grains by hand using branches of trees molded into pestles. For mortars they used holes that
they dug in the ground and lined with cloth. The more resourceful among them contrived
another kind of mortar: captured Japanese helmets which they buried in the ground.
For the supply of meat, carabaos were shot, then their meat was dried on the barbedwire
obstacles. Soon the barbedwire fences were all completely hung with carabao meat. Tree
branches and rocks were also used for hanging the meat. The men continued their
procurement of food and stocked what they could gather in anticipation of the time when
enemy activity would resume and stop them from foraging anymore.

As far as food was concerned then, the situation at the moment looked rosier than it had of
late. As the days went by, however, our salt supply ran out and the carabao meat that the men
had collected spoiled.
Our rations which we continued to receive but in much reduced quantities became even less
and less. Cigarettes became a rarity. And our supply of medicine became fearfully meager.

During this period we sent patrols out in relays so that there was a patrol in each patrol area all
the time. Invariably, they reported no contact with the enemy. Consequently, the men on patrol
became more courageous and penetrated deeper into NoMan'sLand. To them there was no
question that the enemy had retreated at least to Abucay.
While the enemy did not send out its infantry, however, its artillery was busy and kept firing
intermittently at us even at night. But we had stopped paying attention to enemy shelling that
left shell holes but no damage to personnel. We also had come to score the enemy's bombing
attempts for they seldom hit their mark although the explosions did leave us temporarily scared
if they happened to fall close enough.

Soon, our freedom from enemy harassment ended. After a week of relative inaction, Japanese
patrols began to reappear in our front and patrol clashes resumed. To offset this, a sniper
company was organized by our Division.

To create the sniper company, volunteers were recruited from the different units of the Division.
From among the numerous men who volunteered two platoons were organized. The bestbuilt
men and those who looked the most willing to fight were chosen. They were given intensive
training in scouting, patrolling, and marksmanship, and they were given special clothing.

To distinguish them from the rest of the men who wore khaki and denim, the snipers were
issued olive drab mechanics' overalls. Each of them also received a steel helmet, something
that was issued to some of our officers but never to the men. Wearing their new distinct
uniforms, the volunteers began to feel a great sense of pride in belonging to the
newlyorganized Sniper Patrol Company.

The sniper company was a definite asset to our organization. I remember vividly an encounter
the company had which displayed the gallantry of its men and officers. It took place when a
section of the company went on patrol for the first time.

In proper patrol formation the men moved out. Just beyond the Outpost Line of Resistance
they came upon an enemy patrol. Receiving deployment orders, they fired on the enemy. The
exchange of shots that followed lasted for some time then the enemy withdrew. The patrol
reorganized and checked for casualties. Finding none, they continued their trek. Their orders
were to go out about four kilometers and to lead back with them a herd of carabaos that
reportedly was in the area, so that the Division could replenish its badly depleted food supply.
Soon, the patrol found themselves at the edge of the woods. Noticing no enemy activity in the
area in front of them, they were about to start back when the enemy from their right and left
opened fire on them. They deployed to meet the double threat, located the enemy, faced their
adversaries, and fired back. Judging by the volume of fire, they estimated that the enemy had
to be at least a company using machine guns, automatic rifles, and trench mortars or grenade
throwers. When the enemy started to close in, because the Japanese were superior in number,
the patrol leader ordered his squad leaders and the rest of the men to disengage themselves
and withdraw into the woods using the leapfrog method.

One of the squad leaders, checking his men, found someone whose leg had been hit by a
trench mortar shell and was so badly hurt that the could not be moved without the danger of
hemorrhage. He assigned two men to carry the wounded man, three others to cover the
withdrawal of the rest of the section.

The wounded man did not think it wise or practical to withdraw in his bleeding condition and
refused to be helped. He explained that bleeding as he was if he went back he was sure to die
on the way and two other men would have to suffer along with him. He would cover their
withdrawal with his automatic rifle, he said, and he wished them luck.

But one of the men would not accept the wounded man's decision. Because his wounded
comrade would not be dissuaded, he decided to stay behind with him. Another man
volunteered to stay with them. As the enemy soldiers were quickly creeping up to where they
were and time was pressing, the squad leader had to give up on what he considered the ideal
solution. Allowing the three men to stay behind, he ordered the rest of the group to move out.
Armed with three rifles, two of them automatic, the three men covered their comrades'
withdrawal. The enemy pressing closer found tough opponents in the three men. As the enemy
charged from right and left, they were mowed down time and again by the automatic rifles. The
afternoon drew to an end and in the gathering dusk when deep shadows play tricks on one's
eyesight these three men gave shot for shot. What they had hoped for no one can guess, but
through the dark they fought. In the meantime, the rest of the patrol sent for reinforcement.

Moving at night was against regulations. As soon as it was dawn, before any reinforcements
could arrive, the patrol which had disengaged itself by the leapfrog method the day before
went back to look for their three comrades. They found the wounded man dead, shot through
the head. The friend who would not leave him behind had a lot of bayonet wounds and also
was shot through the head. They found the third man with a nasty wound in the right leg lying
on his face. He was still alive but writhing in pain. The medical aid men quickly attended to him
but before he could be moved, he died.

The patrol also checked the enemy position and found bloody clothing and a lot of blood all
around. The blotch of blood nearest their dead comrades was only fifteen feet away indicating
that the three men had kept fighting and shooting at the enemy even at this close range. Their
efforts made the enemy withdraw in the night.

It was Major Fraser, the Sniper Company's adviser and instructor who told me about this
encounter a few days after it happened. Deeply grieved at the loss of the three brave soldiers,
he sat silently on his camp bench prior to recounting the story with great feeling. Concluding
the story he said, "I can't but feel sorry for those men. They were young and courageous and
they could have lived useful lives. But their death is no loss, for the memory of their gallantry
will stir other men to greater efforts. Sooner or later we're all bound to die. There can be no
greater death than that which is for one's neighbor and country."
CHAPTER 3

Interrogations

By March 1942, the war had started to tell on the 41st Division. True to their notice the enemy
was fairly idle since 2 February and had not taken any offensive. Only minor patrol clashes
were occurring. The enemy entrenched to our front were not doing anything to harass our
men. But our lack of food was now definitely a problem.

The men had practically eaten up what they had managed to stock up during the lull, and
many of them had become more concerned with the thought of food rather than the enemy.
But they were ordered to stay within our lines. With the exception of those who were sent on
patrol, they could not forage for food. As a result, reports of men deserting started to come in.

As Division Inspector General, I had to investigate these cases. I remember the case of a
sergeant from the Medical Corps who was arrested for having been AWOL for about ten days.
"I did not desert, Sir," he told me when I questioned him.

Interrogating a man about desertion anytime, anywhere is an unpleasant and difficult task
because the penalty for desertion is death. In the mountain fastnesses of Samat under
centuriesold trees whose branches spoke of age, maturity and wisdom, desertion was not
something one wanted to delve into. Not on a day such as 20 March 1942 when the sky was a
spotless blue and the sun's heat filtered cunningly through thick and verdant foliage and a
fresh breeze blew. It was a lot easier to forget about war, hunger, disease, and bloodshed; to
lie in the soft grass and think of more pleasant times before the war. But I had a job to do and it
needed to be done.

"Sergeant," I said to the Medical Corps man, "tell me why you went AWOL and had to be
arrested and brought back." With lowered eyes and a tinge of red burning beneath his burnt
brown skin, he gave me his explanation.

"I admit I went AWOL, Sir," he said, "but I never intended to desert. I was coming back when
the M.P.'s came and arrested me. I have no military witnesses but I have only the truth to tell. If
a witness is needed, the old man who owns the house where I stayed can bear me out.

"About 5 March while on patrol, we noticed the little house, the one in which I was later caught.
As we passed it, we asked the old woman who lives there for water to drink. She was kind and
she gave us some sweets.

"I asked her why she had not left to go somewhere else. She said she was too old to walk and
her husband, while stronger, was not strong enough to carry her. He would not leave her
behind. 'Besides,' she told us, 'this is my home, my farm. My grandfather started tilling it when
all around here was a forest. Then he left it to my father. It has been bequeathed to me by their
sweat. I will not leave it. I will die here. My two sons are soldiers also. They left in November
and I have not heard from them since. I want to fix the house up, fence it, and prepare food so
that when they come back I will have a home and food waiting for them. I will leave them this
farm. The war will end soon. They can then have a home and a farm and enough food to eat. I
have food here,' she continued. 'When you are hungry, come here and I will feed you. From
what I hear, you have no food in the mountains.' That, Sir, struck home.
"You are aware that we have little food. Maybe the officers have more food but we soldiers
have very little. You probably know that twelve men get one can of salmon a day to eat, and
three men share a handful of rice. We eat this and whatever else the forests give us. Fruits
which the monkeys have left; weeds, young leaves; even flowers, Sir. "

I knew all of what he was saying about our food condition to be true. On my routine inspections
I saw how haggard, hungry, and pale our men looked. As they dug and dumped, improved
their foxholes, camouflaged our positions, and piled their parapets higher in order to make
them more compact, they would ask me for cigarettes and beg for better rations. I was aware
that they had taken to picking weeds that they knew, or hoped, were edible. I knew that those
who went on patrols invariably hoped they would come to a farmhouse where there was food
and something to drink. I knew there were foraging parties in the rear who went through the
forest in search of fruits, seeds, vines, and tubers.

The foraging party from the 41st Engineers that went into the woods in search for food came to
my mind. Those men dug for wild tubers, plucked edible weeds, and finally came upon a
beautiful tree that had lusciouslooking fruits on it. Reflexively, they climbed the tree and
gathered the fruits. In their excitement, they failed to stop to wonder why the monkeys had left
the fruits untouched. There would, otherwise, not have been so many on the tree. The fruits
tasted good and they ate with gusto everything they could get their hands on. The result was
fourteen poisoned men. The Medical Corps succeeded in saving all of them, but the men were
very sick for the next two weeks. The sergeant I was interrogating continued to speak and
brought my thoughts back to the matter at hand.

"One day, Sir," he said, "One of my comrades was sick and I gave him my ration. I went
without food that day. I was able to mooch three cigarettes made out of duhat (a Filipino fruit)
leaves and onion skin paper. They served as my meals. Then I remembered the little
farmhouse, the good old woman, the chickens, and the sweets. I decided to go foraging alone.

"I asked my commanding officer for permission to go and get some food. He gave it to me. My
friend was sick, Sir, he needed food. He had beriberi and no medicine, no food. I was sure that
at the little house there would be food for me to eat and bring back to my friend. So instead of
going to the rear, I went to the Main Line of Resistance and beyond. I found the old woman
and her husband when I got to the house. They recognized me and asked if I had eaten; I said
no. The old woman gave me food. I had fried chicken, rice, and bean soup.

"I was glad to be in that house. It reminded me of my home. The old people reminded me of
my parents. To the front and left of the house is a rice field. The mandalas (rice stacks) there
have been left untouched since the harvest; the sheaves left unthreshed, and when the wind
blows the golden grains fall. Plenty of sheaves but no one to thresh and mill the palay. The
birds come in flocks to feed on it. And only two kilometers away, Sir, our men were hungry. It is
a pity, Sir. Birds and the wind spoiling human food, while our men had barely anything to eat.

"Before I knew it, night had fallen. I decided just to return to my unit in the morning. The old
people gave me a bed to sleep on and fresh pillow cases. It was the first time since the war
started that I had slept on a bed. As you know, Sir, we have had to sleep on the ground. Until
January I did not even have a blanket. That night, I slept like I used to before the war.
"In the morning after breakfast, when I was getting ready to leave, the old man gave me two
chickens and about three gantas of rice and some tomatoes and fruits to take back to my sick
comrade. Just as we were saying goodbye, the old woman came running in from the yard
saying Japanese soldiers were coming. She told me to remove my uniform and hide with the
old man in the bamboo grove. He did this every time a Japanese patrol came. The old man
and I picked up the chickens and food, and hid. The patrol came to the house and we could
hear the old woman trying to talk to the Japanese soldiers. The soldiers decided to have lunch
at the house. They took shifts at patrolling and left late in the afternoon. Early in the evening,
the old man decided it was safe enough to go back to the house. I slept there again that night.

"The next morning, the old man asked me to help him fence the yard before leaving them.
While I wanted to go back to our sector without further delay, I thought I would be considered
ungrateful if I did not help him. So, Sir, I stayed. It took us several days to put the fence up.
When the fence was finished, I told the old man that I would have to leave the next day. He
thanked me and told me that he would give me more food to take to my sick friend. Sir, it was
like being on a holiday. I ate much, and ate good food. It was just like before the war.

"The next day as I was leaving the old people's gate, one of our patrols came. I greeted them.
One of them asked if I was a soldier. I said yes. He wanted to know where my rifle was. I told
him I did not have one because I was a Medical Corps man. They turned out to be M.P.s and I
was arrested. I tried to tell them that I was not a deserter. They arrested me, anyway.

“I never intended to desert, Sir. I was going back in better health and spirits. If I had not wanted
to fight the enemy, if I had not felt that it was my duty to fight, I could have stayed behind on 24
December when we were withdrawing to Bataan. Walking across the fields in Lian, Batangas, I
could have separated from our men and gone back home. But I did not do that. It was not
because I was afraid that I went AWOL.

"In Abucay, Sir, in the midst of the fighting I attended to the wounded. My officers can tell you
about that. I had never disobeyed a single order. Even now, before I left to go to the old
people's house to look for food, I asked permission to leave our sector. I did what I thought I
had to do to live, and be of better service to my unit. And I wanted to get food for my friend.

"That is the truth, Sir. You can have me courtmartialed. They can put me to death, but I am not
a deserter."

A stenographer had been taking down the sergeant's story. I had it transcribed then I had the
sergeant sign the statement.

That afternoon, I felt very heavyhearted as I walked back to Division Headquarters. I often
walked the route easily enough. Today it seemed very long and tedious. Soon I was walking by
the cemetery. Even in the midst of the tensions and urgencies of war, it seemed pervaded with
peace. I remembered these words out of the Lord's Prayer. "Forgive us our trespasses as we
forgive those who trespass against us." And my mind came back to the grave decision I had to
make.

As I trudged along, I prayed. My job required me to make a decision, but who was I to pass
judgment on another man? It was true a courtmartial not I would decide the man's fate, but it
was I who had to decide whether he should be courtmartialed or not.
I wondered: Would the members of the court see this man's story as I did? Would all the
officers who might be chosen for the court martial know of the conditions on the front as I did?
Had they walked along the line in and out of enemy activity as I had? Our unit reports had
always said "Morale: Excellent." But was it really so?

I decided to sleep on the matter. The morning found me troubled still. I had checked out the
man's claim about having received permission to forage. It was true. I reread his testimony,
walked through the woods, and thought some more. I decided to see the prisoner again. He
was full of hope when he greeted me. I asked him if he was really not afraid to die. He
repeated that he was not. I asked him if he would prove it to me during our next skirmish with
the Japanese. He said he would. I made arrangements for him to be sent out as First Aid man
in the next patrol.

About 30 March, there was a skirmish in the sector of the 42nd Infantry. The sergeant
acquitted himself honorably. In the midst of the fight, he crawled to a wounded man, pulled him
behind a tree, and treated him. He saved the man. The next day I rendered my report: "No
case of desertion,"I wrote emphatically.

I saw the sergeant again later in Capas. He was at the hospital there, sick of dysentery. As I
approached him, he turned his head and said, "I'm glad you understood my story, Sir. It was
the truth. Now my parents will not have to be ashamed of me. I'll get well soon and maybe go
home." Two days later, he was dead.

His case was just one of various other desertion cases reported that turned out to be not plain,
simple and clearcut. Another example was the case of a private from the 41st Engineer
Battalion who was reported to have deserted about the first week of February but came back a
month later. He, too, was arrested and charges were filed against him.

"I understand you deserted," I said when I went to see him.

"No, Sir," he said, "I did not desert. It is true that I left my unit but as you can see I've come
back. I've been to Manila, Sir."

"You've been to Manila, and you came back?" I asked gently, truly surprised by his statement.

"Yes, Sir. "

"Tell me about it," I said. "I'm here to help you. I want the truth."

"When we came to this new line," the private said, "I was in a group that was sent to get some
barbed wire near the San Vicente River. We walked all night and went without food. When we
arrived there at about ten o'clock the following morning, our leader found out that the barbed
wire had already been sent near our sector. He ordered us to go back. All of us were tired,
sleepy, and hungry, but there was no food to be had. We arrived at our Engineers camp after
midnight. There we ate and slept.

"Early the next morning, we were awakened and ordered to go to the front to get the barbed
wire. Because I was very tired, Sir, I was late for the formation. Our company commander got
angry with me. He asked why I was late. I told him I overslept. He bawled me out pointing out
that my companions managed to be on time. Then he told me that if I did not do my work
correctly, he would have me transferred to the Infantry and sent to the Outpost Line of
Resistance. I have no Infantry training, Sir. If I was transferred there, I was afraid I would get
killed. Besides, I like Engineer work and I have many friends here. So after we walked to
where the barbed wire was and distributed it, I did not go back with my squad. I went to Limay
instead.

"While in Limay I decided to go home to Manila. And so, Sir, I walked to Orion, and then to
Pilar. I did not meet any Japanese soldiers. In Pilar, I found some people in a civilian house.
They were good to me and they fed me. They were going by banca (a small, basic type of
Filipino boat) to Hagonoy to buy cigarettes and food to sell to our soldiers in Orion. I left my
uniform and rifle in their house and went with them to Hagonoy. From Hagonoy, I went to
Manila.
"In Manila, I proceeded to my parents' house. My father and mother were very happy to see
me. I slept there that night after telling them stories about Bataan. The next morning my
mother advised me to leave because Japanese M.P.'s were entering the homes of USAFFE
men in the area, arresting the men they would find. I left and went to my uncle's house in
another section of Manila and stayed there for five days. He acquired a residence certificate for
me.

"One day, while I was there, the Japanese issued orders that people should not come out of
their houses because an important Japanese officer was going to be passing by. Sentries were
placed on all street corners. The people peeked through cracks in the walls and slits between
windows. They said what they saw was a funeral cortege.

"While I was in Manila also, Sir, I saw many people slapped and beaten up by the Japanese
M.P.s. One day, I saw a young boy walk past a sentry. The sentry called him back. The boy
was frightened and he obeyed. The sentry came forward and slapped him alternately with both
hands. He kept on slapping the boy until the boy fell down. Then he kicked the boy. The boy
was bleeding but he got up. Crying and clasping his hands together, he knelt in front of the
sentry and begged the sentry to stop. The sentry kept on kicking him and then tied him up.
When a Japanese truck went by, the sentry put him on it and he was taken away.

"After spending five days in Manila, I decided to come back to Bataan. I had gotten healthier
and stronger and I was afraid I would be missed. I resolved to do my work well so that my
commanding officer would not be angry with me again. I said goodbye to my parents and went
back to Hagonoy. There I found a banca going to Bataan and rode in it. On the bay, we were
stopped by Japanese patrols who searched us, but they allowed us to go. After I had gotten off
the boat, I did not go on the road for fear of being caught by the Japanese. Although I was in
civilian clothes and had a residence certificate, I was afraid I would be made to work for them
like many others. So I walked into the woods through Abucay in our forward line. It took me
about seven days to get to Balanga. From Balanga I went to Pilar where I picked up my
clothes from the civilian house there. Then I came back here, Sir, and reported. And I was
arrested.

"That, Sir," he concluded, "is the truth."

The man's story was rather hard to believe so I asked him more questions.
"Are there Japanese soldiers in Abucay?" I asked.

"Yes, Sir, they are in a church emplacing artillery in the back where the Engineers had their
Command Post. They also have a supply dump in a warehouse in Salian. And they have many
trucks moving back and forth without any load."

"What do you mean without any load?" I asked.

"The trucks have canvas covers on them, Sir, but they aren't loaded. They move forward in a
convoy then return, also without any load."

"I knew truck movements had been observed by our G2 men at the Division Observation Point
on the summit of Mt. Samat. They had reported a lot of truck movements to the front from
Abucay. I began to see how the private's story could be true. I asked him if he could locate the
enemy's supply depot in Salian on the map. He said he could, and did.

"All right," I told him "I believe you but I'm going to have this checked. If you are not telling the
truth, I will have you tried for desertion."

I told our G2 about the enemy's activity in Abucay and Salian that the man had reported, and
requested that the points I had noted on the map be closely observed. After a few days of
observation, our G2 concluded that what the private had reported was probably true. I reported
this to General Lim who ordered our Artillery to fire on the points. The result of the firing was
favorable. A fire was started in the enemy's Salian dump and their artillery emplacement was
hit. Because wheels were seen flying in the air when our artillery shells exploded, we
concluded that enemy guns were hit directly as well.

With our successful firing in mind, I pondered the private's case. The Articles of War require
that for a man to be judged guilty of committing desertion, he must have been AWOL for ten
days and he must have had the intention to desert. On both counts, the private, clearly, was
guilty. But he had come back. To me, that act erased the intention to desert. And upon coming
back, he provided us with valuable information that gave our Artillery definite targets to aim at.
Should the man's action then still be condemned? As usual, I slept over the matter.

When I finally made a decision, it was that the private was not guilty. On top of that, I
recommended him for a commendation for the information that he gave us. He received the
commendation and was a valuable soldier from then on.

CHAPTER 4

"Piripino Rugao”

The Japanese entrenched in front of us continued to be inactive. Somehow, in spite of our

being adversaries, it seemed neither they nor we particularly cared to be fighting each other
right at the moment. Our men whose main concern now was food did not go raiding the
enemy. And as the Japanese were traveling in small groups our men received no orders to
attack them. The enemy positions were very close to our Outpost Line of Resistance. They
were so close that as they dug in and cut small trees for splinterproof our men there could hear
the impact of their picks on the ground and their bolos on the tree trunks.

As the days went by, it became apparent that the enemy had realized how close they were to
our lines. In the morning, the Japanese soldiers would taunt our men with shouts of "Piripino
rugao." "Piripino rugao" was their way of saying "Filipino lugao" (rice gruel). It seemed as
though they knew that because our rice supply was getting low, we had had to give up eating
boiled rice and that we now were eating thin rice porridge. They were rubbing it in.

Our men usually cursed the Japanese in return, but there was no firing. Even our patrols were
not fired upon by the Japanese. Once in a while, someone would get itchy fingers and fire a
few shots. Whichever side started it would be answered with machine gun fire by the other,
and then silence would follow and that would be the end of the fray. A few wellaimed hand
grenades thrown unexpectedly by either side could have been disastrous but this never
happened.

That both sides were avoiding any fighting was evident in other ways. The following is another
example.

In front of our right sector was the AboAbo River. Because it was the dry season it only had a
few feet of water. The lines the enemy's and ours on either bank of the river were about six
hundred yards apart. In the middle of the almost dry river was a freshwater well which the
civilians, in their evacuation to the rear, had dug. Our men had found it and were using the
water for drinking.

Every so often during the day our water carriers would go to the well to fetch water. The
Japanese who had also discovered the well were likewise fetching water from it.

One day while I was in that sector, noticing that there were four Japanese soldiers at the well
and they were not being shot at, I asked the officer in command for an explanation.

"The first time we fetched water from the well after the Japanese had occupied the opposite
bank," he said, "they fired at us but did not hit anybody. The next day they went to get water
and we fired at them. They waved at us and we stopped firing. Since then they have not
molested us when we go to get water. We do not molest them, either. As if by tacit agreement,
the water carriers from either side have been allowed to do their job." I found it refreshing to
know that even in war, man was not all animal, not all bloodthirsty and cruel.

And so no fighting went on at the well. There was to be no fighting in a number of forthcoming
incidents, either. There was this case, for instance, which was never officially reported; but did
happen. One day, one of our patrols came facetoface with a Japanese patrol. Our patrol had
not expected to encounter the enemy. Possibly, neither had the Japanese. When the
belligerent patrols came within ten yards of each other, both simultaneously raised their rifles.
But before either patrol could begin to fire, both bolted simultaneously to the rear. No fighting
ensued.

This incident indicated that our men's fighting spirit was waning. After showing fortitude,
endurance, gallantry, and courage in Abucay, these same men were starting to get soft.
Discouraging as this was, it was not hard to understand. Peaceloving and hospitable by
nature, the Filipino simply is not naturally cruel.

Incensed to boiling hate in Abucay; geared to feverish hate against the Japanese who had
invaded their sacred shores, sacked their towns, and laid waste their newly harvested grain;
our men had fought fiercely, opposed the enemy strongly, and killed. But right now the
Japanese. were not taking the offensive; they were not shooting to kill. It seemed that like us,
at this point in the war, they were occupied with just one thing: the business of simply existing.
That seemed to suit our men.
Then as if to reinforce the softening process that our men were going through, there appeared
in an issue of See You in Manila (a bulletin which was published regularly and sent to us from
Philippine Army Headquarters) a piece entitled "The Yellow Man Behind the Line." The poorly
conceived piece portrayed the Japanese soldier not as the savage, cruel, and hateful, enemy
that our men had gotten to know him to be; but as a mild, gentle, simple farmer whose
immediate concern was to stay alive, whose rations like ours were meager, and who like us
thought often of home.

Evidently, the writer whose composition was an excellent piece of descriptive literature had
intended his piece to tell our men not to fear the Japanese soldier because the Japanese
soldier was not a superman; he, too, had weaknesses and was homesick. Conceivably, this
effect may have been achieved in the rear areas, among the men who had not had contact
with a Japanese soldier and thought him to be superior, extremely courageous, fanatically
strong. Hopefully, they now thought otherwise.

But our frontline men were aware that the Japanese soldier was neither superhuman nor
overbrave. They knew that they had stopped him in Abucay. It soon became apparent that it
was on these men who had faced and actually beaten the enemy that the See You in Manila
piece had the most adverse effect. These men started to turn soft toward the enemy. An
attempt to suppress the piece was made, but it was too late. The damage had been done. On
one of my inspection tours, one man asked me, referring I was sure, to the piece, "Is it true,
Sir, that the Japanese soldiers trained only for two years and that before their training they
were farmers just like us?" I answered "Yes," noting that henceforth our G1 would have to be
more careful about distributing See You in Manila among our men.

In an earlier issue, See You in Manila had conducted a "See You in Manila Sweepstakes." For
one peso per person, our men could send in their guess as to when we would be marching
victoriously into Manila. Seven hundred guesses were received. The wildest guess had us
marching into Manila amid the applause of our grateful countrymen at as late a date as 24
June 1942. This indicated to us how enthusiastic and optimistic our men were in spite of their
hardships. It also suggested that their being so close to the fighting had probably distorted their
perspective. But the real explanation most probably was that we all had great faith in America,
and in what she could and would do for us.

Enthusiastic and optimistic as our men appeared to be, the job of keeping their morale high
became a primary concern. Whatever food we still had had to be budgeted. Gasoline had to be
rationed. Routine combat intelligence had to be conducted. Our positions had to be improved.
Our sick and convalescent had to be taken care of. And now, additionally, we had to take
concrete steps to keep our men's morale high. Moraleraising or counterpropaganda had
become a necessity because our men were starting to show an unacceptable indifference to
the enemy's activities now.

No longer were they paying the slightest attention to what the enemy was doing. Enemy
shelling and bombing had lost their horror for them. The swishing of an enemy shell hurled in
the air toward our lines no longer sent them scurrying for shelter. Instead they would follow the
sound and say, "I wonder what the Japanese are trying to hit now."

Enemy planes no longer disturbed them, either. The most they would do when an enemy plane
flew toward them was to go under a tree and watch the plane in flight. Only if the plane started
diving did they take shelter from it.

That our men were becoming indifferent to enemy activity became more and more evident, like
the day on which a gap between our 42nd and 43rd Infantry regiments was reported. The gap
had resulted from the reapportionment of our Division sector after our 41st Infantry was
returned to us following their exploits at Kapot Hill. Although the gap was in the Outpost Line of
Resistance, it was of great concern to us because our Division Outpost Line of Resistance had
not been organized according to our Training Regulations. The Training Regulations required
the Outpost Line of Resistance to be a lightly and thinly defended line with shallow squatting
trenches for the men to withdraw to on pressure. Our Outpost Line of Resistance was less
strongly manned but it was almost as fully organized as our Main Line of Resistance. A gap left
undefended there, if exploited by the enemy, would mean doom for the many troops on the
line. Major Ojeda, and I went to investigate the gap and see about plugging it.

Arriving at the Outpost Line of Resistance of the 43rd Infantry, we walked down the line and
found the men there looking like they were in excellent spirits. Almost everyone, however,
looked like he needed food and a smoke. We shared our cigarettes with them.

About where the limiting point on the line was, there was a deep ravine that wound to the left
and then turned right behind the 43rd Infantry's Outpost Line of Resistance. For some reason,
neither the 43rd nor the 42nd Infantry had covered the ravine. Although it was clearly in the
sector of the 42nd Infantry, the threat was to the 43rd Infantry. About eighty yards in front of
this point, some Japanese soldiers had entrenched themselves in one of four pockets fronting
the line. They were doing nothing, just staying there.
Ojeda and I indicated to the commander of the Outpost Line of Resistance of the 43rd Infantry
that he needed a stronger force at that point and assured him that we would have the gap
plugged by the 42nd Infantry.

Traveling to the Command Post of the 42nd Infantry, Ojeda and I discussed how the gap ought
to be plugged. As we studied the problem, we noticed the men around us moving idly about.
There was not much else for them to do; their position was already strongly organized. Hearing
the sound of the cutting of trees to our front, I asked Lieutenant Casanova, the commander of
the Outpost Line of Resistance of the 42nd Infantry, what it was all about. He said it was the
enemy, probably trying to improve their position. He paid no attention to it.

Just then, someone from our lines fired a shot. Major Ojeda and I looked up expecting to see
our men running for shelter to prepare to meet the enemy whose predictable reaction would be
to retaliate. As was to be expected, the enemy fired back, using a machine gun. Again, Major
Ojeda and I stopped talking expecting Casanova to assume command of his men, but
Casanova, who was then explaining his plan for plugging the gap, did not stop to even look up.
His men did not seem a bit concerned, either. They continued whatever they were doing,
seemingly oblivious of the firing.

"Why aren't your men taking cover?" I asked Casanova.

"The men have gotten used to it by now, Sir", he explained. "The Japanese have been in front
of us for about a week. Every once in a while we fire at them, sometimes they do the firing; but
there is never a fight."

"Aren't your men getting a bit reckless?" Major Ojeda asked.

"They have gotten used to not firing at the enemy unless they see them coming, Sir,"
Casanova answered.

We dropped the subject of the firing and resumed our discussion regarding plugging the gap.
Before we left, Casanova sent two squads to plug it. The plugging was very timely for just a
few days later there was fighting in that sector.

CHAPTER 5

The Devil's Workshop

And thus, our men became more and more indifferent about fighting the enemy. And there was
not a lot of other things they could do to occupy their time.

When they were given permission, they foraged for food. And they collected and accumulated
their pay. Since there was nothing much else to do, the majority of them took to gambling.
They played cards and dice, and other games they themselves made up.

One such game called for the bettors to pick any two objects, say two banana peels, and then
to place bets as to which of the two a fly would alight on first. Bets were completely unlimited.
The men bet money, cigarettes, anything and everything.

Earlier, gambling had been prohibited but the officers had a hard time keeping the men from
gambling so the regulation had to be relaxed. The men had to have something to do.

I remember how in Samat, I became a sharer in someone's winnings. Private Ortega, an

orderly of mine, one day brought me a pack of Regent cigarettes. At that time in Samat, they
were a luxury and getting them a bit of a miracle.

"Where did you get these?" I asked Ortega.

"Sir, do you remember the day you gave me a silver fifty centavo coin?" he said elatedly. "I
gambled with it and now I have about P500. Those cigarettes cost me fifty pesos. I bought
them from a civilian. Please accept them as a gift from me. I can afford it."

The men who did not gamble found other ways to kill time. Some of them read, but books and
magazines were scarce and it did not take long to read them. Others, to amuse themselves,
staged impromptu programs in the dark at night. We recognized that if we were to keep our
men from being swayed by Japanese antiAmerican propaganda, we had to find ways of
keeping them occupied.

The idle mind, it has been said, is the devil's workshop. How true that statement is where
propaganda, the constant bombardment with propaganda, is concerned.

Take some of our men on the line, for instance. Take an average soldier. When the war came
to the Philippines on 8 December 1941, he was totally unprepared for it. We took him to the
beaches to prepare for war and told him he was good; he could hold out on the beaches.
General MacArthur had said so; General MacArthur could not be wrong. Then the Japanese
had landed and they rolled the USAFFE over from all directions. Hesitantly, our man had to
accept the fact that MacArthur could be and was, in this instance, wrong. What a
disappointment for our man.

We took him from the beaches to Bataan. As he travelled, planes tanks, and artillery harassed
him. In Abucay, he fought the enemy with the attendant difficulties, privations, and sacrifices;
and he stopped them. He decided he could rightfully be proud of himself. But the enemy
penetrated our lines and we had to order our soldier back. Once more, he felt disillusionment.
"Now I'm good; now I'm no good" he floundered, plucking daisy petals of utter confusion in his
mind.

On our new line, before our man could be ready, again the enemy had attacked. He drove
them back. His estimate of himself went skyrocketing once more. Because he was good, he
expected a reward. For his efforts, he got instead reduced rations and other privations.

Following this constant excitement and changes from the heights of greatness to the depths of
smallness, our man now has become totally confused and weary. With nothing to do, nothing
worthwhile to think about, he has become a hypnotist's subject already in a trance.

Then, daily, let Japanese airplanes fly overhead bombarding him and his comrades with
leaflets that contain messages suited to the enemy's purpose, giving objectionable, slanted
answers to the questions troubling his mind. Our soldier has met a formidable foe in Japanese
propaganda.
At first our soldier lets the leaflets go untouched believing they are poison. But when he is
ordered by his superiors to leave the leaflets alone, his mind springs back to life and asks:
"Why should I not see the pamphlets?" When no one is looking, he picks up a leaflet and reads
it.

"Nonsense," he thinks, as he reads a list of 'historical facts' about American atrocities in 1898
in Caloocan, Samar, and other places where girls and women allegedly were raped, and men
and boys twelve years and older were killed. He does not believe this; he did not himself see it
happen.

Besides, he tells himself, his experience has been that Americans are not bad. Why, in his own
hometown he recalls, there was Mr. Dale, an old American soldier from Colorado who, after the
fighting between the Filipinos and Americans was over, married a Filipina and took up
residence in the Philippines. His three pretty and lively daughters brightened many a town
fiesta. Mr. Dale, he reminds himself, was good. He and other American soldiers could not have
done what the Japanese in their leaflets claimed. "The Japanese are wasting their time and
gasoline," he concludes. He tries to turn his mind to other things. But the Japanese are
persistent.

In one of their propaganda campaigns, the Japanese utilized Jose Rizal, the national hero of
the Filipino people, to their advantage. To catch the men's attention, on the cover of their
leaflets, printed in two colors, they showed Rizal's statue at the Luneta (a national park in
Manila) all dressed up in the Japanese military uniform. They then quoted from his works and
applied his teachings to suit their purpose. Their propaganda presented the Japanese as being
Rizal's friends, as being the Filipinos' benefactors. Our men read the excerpts from Rizal's
teachings, but ignored the Japanese' interpretation of them.

"Crazy," a lot of men said.

"Rizal would never have stooped to wearing one of those uniforms," one man remarked.

"What foolishness." said another. "If Rizal were alive today, they'd send him back to Fort
Santiago and instead of being killed the way he was by the Spaniards, he'd probably die from
being slapped and kicked and his head would be cut off with a sword."
"What do the Japanese think we are'? Children?" still another man said. "That's why I would
not want to be subjected to the Japanese if I can help it. They think we Filipinos are like them.
Well, we are not.

"They are told what to do and how to do it but they are never told why. All they know is that
someone higher up said so and they must do what has been ordered. Now they want us to
think the way they do, but their approach is bad. What Filipino can be ordered to do something
without his knowing why? But tell a Filipino why and let him be convinced about it and he will
die for you."

Later on, the Japanese started dropping leaflets in which President Roosevelt was the villain.
The leaflets were rendered in caricature. One showed him with a head that was a Japanese
artist's concept of death. In it, Roosevelt was pushing Filipino puppets toward the brink of a
river called "Death." The Japanese were shown trying to fight Roosevelt and pulling the
Filipinos up from the river. Other leaflets showed Roosevelt in various disguises and moods
but invariably they showed him hiding behind the Filipinos who the Japanese propaganda
material showed as being used as a bait against the Japanese.

In addition to their Roosevelt caricatures, the Japanese produced one in which Corregidor was
depicted as a skull. It showed Filipinos dying of hunger. In the distance, Bataan was presented
as a clenched fist crushing Filipino soldiers.

Our soldiers laughed at the caricatures. The leaflets helped us keep our sense of humor alive.
We found other uses for the leaflets. We used them for building fires and for personal needs.

Then, the Japanese resorted to dropping cigarettes from the sky. Our men were cautioned not
to touch the cigarettes, leaving them untouched on the ground to spoil. This was torture for our
men who now were all out of cigarettes and had no contact with civilians from whom they could
buy them.
USAFFE troops who were nearer the beaches could procure American and native cigarettes
from civilians who rode to Manila in bancas to purchase cigarettes. These civilians sold the
cigarettes to our soldiers at profiteering prices, usually P20 for a 20centavo pack of American
cigarettes and P10 for a 10centavo pack of native cigarettes. Yet the men on the beaches
bought them.
In our sector, the men had had to resort to making cigarettes from duhat and papaya leaves
which they chopped up and wrapped in any kind of paper they could find. The Japanese
propaganda leaflets became useful this way.

The dropping of cigarettes marked the enemy's departure from their former approach of trying
to get through to our men by appealing to the mind. They gave up dropping leaflets showing
how good the Japanese, and how bad the Americans, were. They now turned to appealing to
our feelings, to the hunger for food, home, and sex. Shifting from their earlier comparatively
refined manner, they now approached us crudely and savagely.

The Japanese began dropping leaflets reminding us of how little food we had, of how slim our
chances were of getting any more. What they were saying, of course, was true.

They used a language so simple and direct. One side of the leaflets showed a colored picture
of tempting fruits, vegetables, and wine. The other side contained the printed message. The
Japanese always ended their message by advising us to give up what they called our useless
fight so that we could go home and eat plentifully for, after all, they kept reiterating, it was not
the Filipinos they wanted but the Americans.

They dropped printed menus of the Manila Hotel, the Panciteria Antigua, the Maritima
Steamship Company; and on the menus they wrote in bold, red letters: "Don't you wish you
could enjoy this?"

This had a decidedly adverse effect on the men who were hungry. The sight of food even in a
picture, intensified by the mention of our hardships compared to what we could be enjoying if
we were not in Bataan, was something the men could not ignore. I also felt hungry when I
looked at the Panciteria Antigua's menu of choice Chinese dishes. Looking at the pictures, the
men must have felt their hunger extremely as they continued subsisting only on fruits, herbs,
grass, and flowers.

The enemy propaganda which appealed to our longing for home was also direct and graphic.
First, there were the leaflets that showed a letter from a tearful mother and contained her
poignant appeal to her son to return home. These leaflets had no pictures but they bore what
was supposedly the mother's signature.

Then the Japanese dropped a series of pictures of men and officers of the USAFFE who either
had been captured or had surrendered to the Japanese in the north. I recall the picture of the
sergeant who was shown enjoying a sumptuous feast with his family. His wife and children
were all smiles and so was he. Behind the picture was his purported letter calling us to
surrender.

Upon seeing it, one of our men who knew the sergeant exploded, "Why, the presumptuous
bum! Who the hell does he think he is, asking the USAFFE to surrender? I think the damn fool
surrendered and now he's turned proJap simply because they spared his life."
Another picture showed a surrendered, or captured, Filipino lieutenant who likewise had
allowed himself to be photographed and exploited. When the officers of our staff saw it, they
reacted angrily. The sergeant, they conceded, was a "noncom" and his shortcomings could be
overlooked by the commissioned officers, but a commisioned officer was expected to be more
disciplined, more willing to make sacrifices. A discussion of sorts followed.

"Why in hell did he permit his picture to be so exploited?" asked Captain Narvaez.

“Maybe he was made to do it," Major Ojeda said.

"But he should have had the courage to say no," Narvaez insisted.

"Suppose he was told that unless he allowed his picture to appear in the leaflet he would be
killed or imprisoned, could he have said no then?" Ojeda continued.

"Why not?" Narvacz said, "is not everyone here staking his life?

What if we die or are killed doing what we believe to be right? I would rather die than stain my
name and that of my posterity by allowing myself to be used by the Japanese in their
propaganda."

"You can say that because you're not confronted with the dilemma," Lieutenant Kalaw joined
in.
"Maybe so," Narvaez started to continue when we all heard a voice issue an order in the dark.

"Cut out the blah," it said. "You have work to do in the morning. Go to bed." It was General Lim.

Another piece of propaganda the Japanese dropped was a leaflet folded once over. On the
outside cover was a colored caricature of some sort. Inside was a twopage spread.

On the lower left hand corner was the picture of a dead American lieutenant. He must have
been dead all of a week when the picture was taken because his grisly face showed his skin to
be dark and taut over his sharp features. His lips were drawn tightly, baring his teeth

It was a morbid sight.

On the upper right hand corner was the picture of a pretty smiling Filipino girl dressed in a
balintawak (a native Filipino country woman's everyday attire) with a salakot (a widebrimmed
straw head covering used by people when planting rice) on her head.

The written message asked whether we would rather be deader than the soldier; or alive,
smiling, and flirting with the girl. The officers thought this was a lot of sensual trash but the men
were more gullible. Many of them cut the girl's picture out and pinned it up on their walls.

The Japanese used the appeal to our sexual hunger the most persistently. For about six weeks
unceasingly, they dropped a set of propaganda leaflets using this appeal. The whole series
was done in poor taste. I write about it here only to show the endurance and fortitude our
soldiers in Bataan displayed.
The leaflets were called A Ticket to Surrender. The instructions for surrendering safely were
printed in English and Japanese on one side of the leaflets. Anyone wanting to surrender was
to go forward into the Japanese lines to report there. On the other side of the leaflets
progressively were shown pictures of an attractive American woman in various stages of
undressing.
The first set showed just her face, artfully lighted. Our Signal Company Commander who was
a camera enthusiast appreciated the artistic qualities of the picture. The average soldier saw
only the pretty face.

The next set of leaflets had a larger picture of the girl showing not only her face but now, also
her breasts which were draped with a shawl. The shawl was worn low just above the nipples
and the lighting effect emphasized the full bosom.

The third set of the series gave a fullbody picture of the girl seated by a window reclining
against a pillar, her body draped from just above the knees. The next set showed the reclining
figure of the girl completely nude.

The whole series was a veritable striptease. And in the average Filipino soldier, who was not
used to seeing a woman undress in public, much less appear in the nude, it stirred a thrilling
sensation and aroused his sexual instinct. As a finale to the series, the Japanese dropped
leaflets showing a caricature of the sexual act.

It was gratifying that no reports were received of any of our men trying to surrender following
the enemy's Ticket to Surrender attempt. After this series, the Japanese continued to drop
other leaflets.

Thus did the Japanese pursue their pernicious propaganda activities; and our days dragged
into weeks. Outside of their propaganda campaigns, the Japanese confined their activities to
bombing, shelling, and minor patrol clashes. Meanwhile, our USAFFE troops had a lot more to
do.

About this time, reports were circulated among us that the Japanese had no more fighting
force left; soon we would take the counteroffensive, drive them out of Bataan, and march
victoriously into Manila. The men were kept busy preparing for this counteroffensive.

We heard rumors that a huge American convoy miles and miles in length and breadth was on
its way to help us; the biggest, vastest convoy America had ever put on the sea. The
newspaper account of an American news correspondent was quoted and in our mind's eyes
we saw the vast fleet of steel gray ships steaming toward us, their bows cutting the waves
sending up a multicolored spray while the sea foamed and frothed.

News was circulated as to how some of our USAFFE men had crossed over from Bataan to
Cavite, Batangas, and the Visayas to get food for us. As if to substantiate the news, we started
to get dried fish from the Visayas; fresh beef and pork from Batangas; and canned food
packed in the Philippines.

In our Division, we started training in offensive tactics. Where formerly the men had learned by
actual experience, how to hold a line, now they were taught how to make the enemy give up a
line. For three weeks, this training was conducted exhaustively. It was more difficult for the
men to learn to be the offensive.

They had to know a lot more about taking cover, creeping, crawling, crossing obstacles, and
other techniques. The corporals had to know how to have better control over their squads. All
the way up the line, this was true.

Officers, most of whom had very little or no training at all in offensive troopleading, had to be
trained. The Division staff held classes to teach our Regimental and Battalion staff officers their
particular jobs.
My assignment was to conduct training inspection and give instruction in engineering offensive
operations as well as infantry tactics. In addition, I was looking into reports of gallantry which
now had piled high on my desk.

Higher Headquarters was busy with inspections, too. General Valdes was reported to have
come to the front on inspection. Colonel Romulo also came. So did General Roxas who arrived
at our sector early one morning, had a few minutes' chat with General Lim, then proceeded to
greet cheerfully everyone he met. His presence was welcomed by all.

We had much respect for General Roxas who had trained in an officers' service school for
three grueling months before the war and never asked for extra consideration because of his
senior rank. Like the rest of us, he studied, drilled, and crammed; and then graduated.

To check the organization of the ground, General Casey made a thorough inspection of the
front lines. He rated the 41st Division as being the best organized in depth.

CHAPTER 6

Disease and Despair

While we continued our training activities, disease set in among the men who already were
suffering from lack of food. Thus, while our fight with the Japanese was at a stalemate and the
Japanese were not doing any real attacking, our troops were busy fighting another war
against hunger, disease, mental inactivity, and emotional strain.

Beriberi, malnutrition, and avitaminosis were rampant. Cases of poisoning from unknown wild
fruits and herbs, and ptomaine poisoning from canned goods saved after being opened were
numerous. Boils, itches, and other skin sores were common. And many men caught anthrax
from eating the meat of diseased carabaos. Those who were not actually sick were haggard,
had dark and white blotches on their skin, and their eyes wore a wandering look.

To add to the men's discomfort, flies were a menace and a nuisance. And mosquitoes, the
deadly anopheles, began to affect the men probably because of the scarcity of quinine. Malaria
became widespread. Men who were otherwise hardy all of a sudden would suffer a chill which
even woolen blankets could not stop.

Leeches were active in the damp vegetated areas. The men suffered much pain as eyes and
skin pores were attacked by leeches, which gained access through holes in the men's clothing
or through the eyelets of their shoes and leggings.
Bathing now had become a soapless affair and the men had to resort to using stone and sand
to scour their skins of grime and dirt. Lice abounded, and they were wanton.

Influenza, ordinarily a threeday fever, became fatal. Those that recovered took two to three
weeks to convalesce. Those who were wounded even slightly took a longer time getting well.
There were also cases of dysentery and typhoid. Some men suffered, additionally, from
edema.

To keep the sick from dying when medicine could not be procured, herbs and tree barks were
resorted to.
Dysentery was cured by drinking water in which the bark of the duhat tree had been boiled.
Other ailments were treated as best as possible with herbs.

Malaria was temporarily relieved by drinking water boiled with the bark of the native dita
(scientifically known as alstonia scholoris) which was a source of quinine. The difficulty was
that no one knew just what dosage to give so experiments were conducted.

Captain Villacorta, a Medical officer, gave his dita solution a commercial name. He called it
"Ditalimina".

"Why such a long name?" someone asked. "Why not merely 'Dita' or 'Ditamine'?

"Don't you see," he explained' "we want the world to know that this Division discovered the
correct dosage; hence, the name Ditalimina, for Dita+Lim+Ina; or dita sponsored by General
Lim of the 41st Division."

Even in the midst of all our problems, we tried to keep our sense of humor intact. But our
morbidity rate had risen from about 4 percent in Abucay to an astonishing 40 to 47 percent in
Samat by March 1942.

While the men fought hunger and disease, their minds stayed idle. There was nothing to do but
eat, if and when there was food; rest when they were tired and if allowed by their superiors;
and sleep whenever they could. The Japanese propaganda leaflets must have tortured many a
man as he lay awake in the dark at night.

The weaker ones among the men soon surfaced. Many men became sullen, morose, and
quarrelsome. Quarreling among the men became a problem to the officers. And I remember
many cases of men and officers despairing because of our situation, worrying about their
families, and being convinced at this point that there was no chance we could win.
 PART FIVE
THE FIGHTING RESUMES

CHAPTER 1

Bad News

15 March 1942 was significant to the officers and men of the 41st Division for two reasons.
First, it was made definite to us that no reinforcements from abroad were coming. Second, our
Division Command Post was bombed.

Early after breakfast on 15 March, General Lim announced that he was leaving the Command
Post to attend a conference General Wainwright had called. All USAFFE division commanders
were to be present. He told us to be back early at the Command Post from whatever we had to
do, as he would make important announcements upon his return. Going past my tent, he
instructed me once again to work on our recommendations for decorations for gallantry.

About midmorning, I decided to take time off for a bath.

"Won't the General be glad to know his staff spent the morning cleansing!" Lieutenant Feria,
our Assistant G1, kidded.

"Well," I responded, jesting philosophically, "it's just as good a thing to take a bath as it is to
read a magazine. I needed a break from writing up all those gallantry recommendations. And I
needed a bath!"

"How true," Major Narvaez, our Assistant G3 contributed, goodnaturedly. "Bert has just done
us all a big favor." He ducked, anticipating a slap on his broad back from me but I just smiled.

"The advantage the men in the front line have over us is having a Tiawer bath anytime they
feel like it," Lieutenant Tan added. The men in the front line were indeed on the Tiawer River.

The morning rolled on quickly spent as it was in both lighthearted banter and serious work.
Soon it was time for lunch. These days, lunch was not something we looked forward to. Rice
gruel, a piece of bacon, some jam, made up our regular menu. Today, following out meager
meal, we chewed the rag until Colonel Domaoal joined in. Borrowing Narvaez's favorite
expression, he said, "The trouble with us in this staff is that there is too much rigmarolling."
Everyone laughed.

After lunch, we all went to our tents. Some of the staff took a nap. Some had work to do. The
G3 group spent their time making a new lamp for our evening conferences.

The rest of us occupied our time with recreational activities. The G2 set read magazines I was
engrossed in True magazine's account of "the Rape of Nanking." Lieutenant Tan read in front
of my desk while he waited to have his hair cut. Lieutenants Santos and Banta went out to
shoot at birds and monkeys. All in all, the staff was enjoying a pleasant day.

Around 3:30 p.m., enemy planes passed over us. No one paid any attention to them. Having
enemy planes fly over us was nothing unusual. Had an American plane come flying over, that
would have been news.

Lieutenant Lara whose tent was just opposite mine on the trail lay down to doze off. My typist
continued to type my reports. The cook went to get us some coffee. Birds in the trees around
us were singing. No one minded the planes. After a while, however, the planes came back,
flew over us again, and then circled once. We took notice then.

"Bert," Captain Kalaw remarked, "those Japs must have heard you say this Command Post
can't be bombed. They seem to be trying to figure out how to do it."

"I believe what I said about that to be true, Teddy," I answered. "I drew a profile of this ravine,
and no bombs will hit us unless the planes follow the river. If they do that, it'll be just too bad for
us." I kept on reading about how the Japanese entered Nanking in 1937 and raped every
female they got a hold of in that city.

"Everyone take cover!" Major Ojeda shouted, as he noticed that the planes were diving.
Everyone else immediately took cover. I did not.
"Which way are the planes coming, Doni?" I shouted to Ojeda.

"East to west," he answered. That I was convinced meant we would not be hit. I went on
reading. We heard an explosion in the hilltops way to the east. I smiled complacently.

Tan ran over to me. "Take cover, Bert," he urged.

"Better take cover, Sir," echoed Sergeant Villanueva who had just entered our dugout.
Villanueva had just arrived from the hospital where he was treated for a bad heart. He was
shaking with fright.

"Don't worry," I assured them. I stopped reading to watch the planes.

There were two more explosions. Way to the west on the other bank of the river, the Japanese
had just bombed the hilltop. Their next step was obvious now. They were going to bomb along
the river, the only way I had said they could get at our Command Post. I prepared to duck.

Hearing the distinct swish swish swish of an oncoming bomb at close range, I jumped
headlong into the dugout and landed on top of Sergeant Villanueva who was shaking like a
leaf. "Take it easy," I told Villanueva. "Take it easy. Everything will be okay."

As I waited for the explosion, the words "Take it easy, take it easy" kept ringing in my ears.
Whether I uttered them or whether they just went clicking away in my mind, I cannot say. I held
my breath. Waiting was an eternity. Then the explosion came and our dugout shook. It shook
so much that the timbering split and the earth that had been dumped on top of it filtered down
on us through the timbering. "It looks like the end," I thought, as the loose earth started to pile
on us.

"Take it easy, take it easy," I repeated to myself, realizing that if we did not get out soon, all of
us would be caved in. We heard more explosions. They were a little farther to the north. And
we heard some strafing. They sounded even farther away.
Breathing deeply, I got up. I peeked out and could see nothing. Only thick smoke and dust met
my gaze. I stuck my head back into the dugout and tried to stop the loose earth from falling in
so rapidly. Already Villanueva's legs were partly covered by the falling earth. We had to get out
fast.

"Bert! Bert!" Kalaw shouted. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," I shouted back and stepped out of the dugout. Then I saw why Teddy was so excited. In
front of my dugout was a huge crater, its edge only about a foot from me! The hole in the
ground was about twenty feet across and eight feet deep. My desk was gone and Lara's tent
was hanging on the branches of a tree. Kalaw, Ojeda, and Narvaez whose dugout was the
closest to mine came running over. I essayed a smile. While they looked at the hole, I fished
Villanueva out. He was scared beyond description.

"That was close," Kalaw remarked.

"Those Japanese pilots must have known you said they couldn't bomb us," Narvaez added
jokingly. "See, they picked on you."

"If your serial number isn't up," I said philosophically, "it just isn't up." This was a philosophy
about death I had tenaciously hung on to from the time the war had started. Now it remained
unassailable.

Majors Chong, Montemayor, and Campo whose makeshift offices were farther down the
stream came up and joined us.

"How unfortunate, Bert," Montemayor kidded. "You didn't even get it scratch. I would have
enjoyed recommending you for a Purple Heart.”

"Will you pose For a picture, Bert?" Chong, our Signal Company commander, asked, while
focusing his camera. He took a picture of all of us gathered around the crater.

"If there's a medal for gypping death," Narvaez said, "Bert should certainly get one."

Captain Tinio, the Division Engineer, who had just joined the group was serious. "Bert, do you
know that if the bomb had hit just one foot nearer, you would have been caved in?" He was
right.

"And," someone else added, "if the bomb had exploded on top of the hill that same distance
from you, the hill would have come down in an avalanche and buried you."

Reflecting on these possibilities, I realized how close to death I had been and I suddenly
became frightened.

"Bert, you're as pale as a ghost," Doc Solidum, our Division surgeon, said. "Better have some
coffee. It'll help."

Kalaw went to see about getting the coffee. Returning, he reported, "The Japanese hit the pot.
The cook got hit by a rock."
"The General still has some rum, Bert," Colonel Domaoal, our Chief of Staff, said. "Let's get
you some."

We walked over to General Lim's tent where I drank half a glassful of rum. The liquid lining my
throat and stomach made me feel warm all over. Doc Solidum advised me to take a walk to get
my blood circulation back to normal. The others went to check on what damage had been
done to our Command Post and to share experiences regarding the bombing.

Colonel Domaoal, they found out, had cheated death by just a few seconds. He was lolling in
his bunk when the first explosion happened. Wasting no time, he had ducked into his dugout. A
large rock falling from the hill hit his bunk squarely and demolished it. If he had not ducked in
time, he would have been crushed. Lieutenant Santos' bunk also was hit by a rock and wound
up a wreck.

Shell fragments had ripped tents and blankets. Lieutenant Lara whose tent was thrown about
fifty feet up in the air and got caught on a tree barely had time to run before the bomb fell. My
desk had disintegrated as had my watch which was on it. So had my typewriter. Where other
bombs exploded, there were other big holes. The Message Center was filled almost
completely by the dirt that crumbled into it when a bomb exploded near it.

One bomb was a dud and it stuck on the hill just above General Lim's tent. The decision was
made not to explode it by dynamite as doing that would have caused an avalanche to fall on
his tent; but rather to simply fence it with barbed wire to keep people away.

Following Doc Solidum's advice, I walked up the hillside until I got to a trail, and walked and
walked until I felt tired. Then I sat down on a rock and rested. The afternoon had worn on by
now.

I lay down and gazed at the sky. All around were big trees in which birds were coming to roost.
A gentle breeze was blowing in from the sea. It was exhilarating and refreshing. There were no
people around, I was alone.

Lying down on the grass, I reflected again on how close to getting killed I had been. Suppose I
had been killed, would it have been glorious? Would it have been gallant? Would it have been
worthwhile? Would my children have been able to say their father died a hero because he was
killed in the war? The answer to all these questions had to be "no."

I was thirtyone years old. Was I afraid of dying? The answer to that also had to be "no." I had
always believed that the matter of when I should die was not in my hands but in the hands of
God, the good God that I trusted and who I believed made each one of us for a particular
purpose and who directs the minutest detail on earth.

If He had wanted me to get killed today, I thought, I would have gotten killed. But He let me live
through the bombing. He had a reason. The thought went thumping about in my head.

It was twilight now. I walked back to the Command Post. General Lim had not yet arrived when
I got there. Engineer troops were busy building a bridge across the crater near my dugout.
That was easier to do than filling it up.
It was dark when General Lim arrived. He was surprised to see the bridge. We told him what
had happened in his absence. "We're going to have our conference shortly," he said after a
while. "There's something important we have to discuss."

At about 8:00 p.m., the members of the staff started arriving at General Lim's tent. We sat
down on the crude benches outside. While waiting for him to come out, we helped ourselves to
his cigars and cigarettes and chatted some more about the afternoon's bombing.

"Bert," Colonel Chioco said in the dark, "it surely looked like your serial number was up today.
I'm beginning to believe your serial number theory."

Before I could say anything, Lt. Feria interjected, "But I'm sure it hung on almost to the index
needle, trembled for a while, and then decided to come down again."
"Yes, sir," I said to Colonel Chioco, "but like the old people say, you can't get rid of bad weed...”

“... or good people." Ojeda broke in. "I knew you'd say that," he continued, kiddingly, so I
finished the sentence for you," We all laughed.

Just then, we saw General Lim's cigar emerging through the tent's flap. We stopped talking.
This was one way we showed him our respect. Earlier in the war, we had observed proper
military decorum by getting up at attention and saluting him when he arrived, but he had since
instructed us to stop doing that especially when we were by ourselves and it was dark. When
there was a visitor at the Command Post, we still had to accord him all the usual visible forms
of respect.

"Be seated, gentlemen," he said, seating himself in his easy chair. "What do you have to report
aside from the bombing this afternoon?" Then suddenly, he said, "Atienza, I thought you said
we could not be bombed."

"That I did, Sir," I answered. "I said we could not be bombed if the planes flew across the river.
I also said that if they followed the river, then we could be bombed. Today's bombing proved
my statement.”

"Yes, I remember that," General Lim said, "and the Japanese must have G2'd that you had
said it. They chose to bomb you." Everyone laughed.

"But now, gentlemen," he continued seriously, "let's skip your usual reports. Anyway, I know
Campo will say 'Nothing, except . . .' and give a full hour's report. Ojeda will give me a lot of
bull. Someone else will say 'Nothing in particular."' We all laughed again. The general knew us
well.

When General Lim spoke again, he did so gravely.

"Today," he said, "at a conference with all of his division and sector commanders, General
Wainwright surveyed the war situation. I'll give it to you briefly."

He paused and puffed on his cigar as if to prepare us for what he was about to say, then
choosing his words carefully, he proceeded.
"As we know," he said, "Singapore is gone and so is Hongkong. The Japanese Navy is active
in and around Philippine waters. A few days ago, part of it was trapped in the Macassar Strait
and there was a naval battle in the Coral Sea. The Japanese are definitely trying to get to
Australia now. They want to have unhampered communications from Formosa to the southern
regions. But they will go to Australia before attacking the small islands piecemeal.

"If they can get a base in Australia, they will have naval control of the central and southern
Pacific. Then they will be able to protect Japan from naval bases thousands of miles from
Japan proper. For all we know, they could be operating in the Aleutians so they can use those
islands as a protective base first and as a springboard to Alaska later. They know the northern
waters well because of their deepsea fishing. "

General Lim paused again. We sensed that he had bad news for us. He was usually direct and
outspoken. He did not have to stall unless what he had to tell us was unfavorable.

"The convoy we've been expecting to reinforce us, it seems, is not coming," he said. "It has
been diverted to Australia, to be sent here later on. How much later, we do not know. In the
meantime, we definitely know now that we cannot expect immediate help. We will stay in
Bataan for as long as we can hold out; and wait."

He stopped talking; none of us said anything. Each of us was struck by the impact of the news.

We had all been awaiting reinforcements. Having fought for more than three months now, we
knew that with the forces that we had we could not expect to beat the Japanese. But we had
thought that help was coming, and our hopes had been kept high by our expectation of a
convoy coming straight from America to help us. Wasn't the Philippines, after all, the only U.S.
possession involved in the war? How often we had uttered this thought in our minds.

General Lim must have read our minds for when he continued, he said, "It's difficult for you to
see the necessity of preparing Australia because you think of the Philippines as being the
important thing in this war. You can't be blamed for that because this is our country. But we
have to see the larger picture.

"Look at the map," he said, flashing some light on it and pointing the different places as he
spoke. "You will notice that the Philippines is only a small part of the Pacific. It's too close to
Japan. We're within Japan's protective periphery. Japan will try to take the Philippines at all
cost because to them the Philippines in American hands is a close threat to Japan within its
own defensive sphere. For the Americans, the Philippines in American hands if all the other
Asian countries were in Japanese hands would be difficult to hold. U.S. will prepare Australia
as a base and operate from there. When Australia is ready, America can come to the
Philippines and then proceed to Japan proper.

“Help yourselves to cigarettes," he said after a while. We knew he was done. "But don't take
any with you," he added, "We don't have much left and I want to give the men on the front
some, too." He apparently wanted to change the subject. We pursued it no further.

The conference then became an exchange of stories about rumors and estimates of the
situation. Campo reported hearing explosions within the Japanese lines. "They sounded like
artillery," he said, "but what would the Japanese be shooting at, if not us? Yet no shells fell
within our sector."
"They must have been shooting at civilians who have taken up arms," someone commented.

"Or at fighting troops who were cut off in the north and have become guerrillas," someone else
volunteered.

"Or it could be that the Japanese were blasting trees to make a trail for troop movements,"
Tinio, the Division Engineer, said. His estimate was probably the correct one. Other topics
came up, but the night was getting late.

"That will be all," General Lim finally said. "I don't want you to circulate the news of our
probably not getting reinforcements right away. Our men should not know about it just yet. We
have no way of knowing when reinforcements will come." Saying that, he bade us good night.

Back at our bunks, Narvaez said to me, "You see, Bert, you've been too optimistic. I've been
telling you all along that help would not come soon. We'll have to fight it out here until our food
and ammunition are gone. Then we'll either be killed or have to surrender, or become
guerrillas."

"Oh, I don't know about that," I said. "As it is, we don't know definitely that help won't come on
time. I think we have enough food and supplies for another couple of months. Before we
consume that, help could come.
"You're being optimistic again," he said. "Be realistic about this thing. All right, so we have food
and ammunition that will last us some time. How about medicine? The men have gotten very
weak now. Soon the rains will come. Can we hold out long in the rain with only the shelter that
we have?"

"We're used to the rain," I said, firmly. "Besides, aren't we having shelters built for the men and
our supplies?"

I continued arguing, but I had to agree with Narvaez. Things would be getting more and more
difficult. As I kept talking, I got more and more irritated. In my heart, I had dark doubts about
our situation but time and again I tried to push them out by using my mind. And here Narvaez
was convincing me of the futility of our struggle; something I had feared all along.

"Okay," I said, stubbornly, "supposing help does not come soon, what then? We'll fight it out
and be killed. We've staked our lives this far. If we do finally get killed, we will have died for a
worthy cause."

"I'm afraid we'll be sacrificing for nothing," he said. "Thousands of our men will be killed, or
wounded and permanently crippled. How about their families? What about their future? If we're
going to lose anyway, why keep up a useless fight?"

"That's defeatist talk, Julio," I said. "You should not talk that way."

"I was talking to you as a friend," he said. "You know that I would never talk like this to anyone
else. Have you heard that I've been anything but an optimist among the men? I know the
principle for which we're fighting. If you die fighting, I'll die by your side."
We ended the conversation. I tried to fall asleep. But sleep would not come. General Lim's
announcement and Narvaez's observations were troubling my mind. I analyzed the situation
from many angles. They all converged at one point and that was death.

To me, there were four possibilities. One, if help did not come and the Japanese attacked as
they did in Abucay, with our men in their present condition which was worsening daily, we
would be driven back. Two, if help did come and the Japanese attacked, we would have to
fight as best as we could until reserves were sent to relieve us. It was doubtful that the newly
arrived reinforcements would be committed without additional training in jungle warfare. But,
even so, would they be able to hold? Three, if help did come and the Japanese did not attack,
we would have to attack. Conceivably, we would wind up in the lead again. Four, if help did not
come and the Japanese did not attack, then we would have a stalemate; but we were getting
weaker every day. We would waste away in the wilderness.

Of these four considerations, one and four were the most probable. Starvation and disease
stared me in the face.

Should we surrender? My Filipino pride revolted at the idea. To surrender meant to be

subjugated. Better to die than to do that!

What if we were captured? That was not as bad as surrendering, but what would come after
that? Death? Why not? General MacArthur's words came to my mind. "Only those are fit to live
who are not afraid to die.” Besides, I contemplated, not every man is privileged to die for his
country. Some men are born to live for their country, others to die for it. Evidently, we, like our
national heroes Rizal, Bonifacio, and del Pilar had been chosen to give up our lives for our
country. So be it, I thought.

The next few days dragged on. To us who knew about the improbability of reinforcements, the
days were even more dreary. But we performed our duties as efficiently as before. In front of
the men we were enthusiastic, optimistic, encouraging. Among ourselves, we worked sharing
the discouragement that came with knowing that our efforts were almost useless.

Prior to 15 March, we had been sustained by the one hope that help would come. We looked
forward to the day when we would rise again, attack, and win. Now that hope was gone. But
we carried on, nurturing the hope that General Wainwright could have been wrong, that help
somehow would come; soon.

Eagerly, we read G2 reports from Philippine Army Headquarters whose operatives in Manila
sent information as to what was happening there. Some of the reports were good. They told of
the Japanese generally behaving themselves in Manila except for slapping incidents; of
Japanese soldiers deserting because they refused to go to Bataan. Some of the reports were
bad. They told of the formation of an Executive Commission composed of Filipinos that would
run the government. They told of the difficulty of getting food.

Because we had collected quite a bit of money by this time, the question of disposing of it
came up. In addition to having accumulated our regular pay, we had received the three
months' advanced pay that President Quezon had authorized. Also, as of March 1942,
members of the Philippine Army in the USAFFE became entitled to U.S. Army pay and
allowances in addition to what they were receiving from the Philippine Army.
We had the option of drawing our pay, or not. Those who drew theirs were permitted to deposit
their money with the U.S. Army Finance Officer. In return for it, they received U.S. Treasury
Warrants. Some hoarded their cash but most of the men collected their pay and found ways of
spending it. To help the widows and orphans of the 41st Division, General Lim started a mutual
aid fund. The money we collected was deposited with either the Philippine or the U.S.
Treasury.

CHAPTER 2

Gallant Acts

I spent most of the days that followed investigating cases of reported gallantry. I could no
longer remember exactly how many of the men of the Division that we recommended were
cited and awarded medals for gallantry. My firm belief is that the whole 41st Division should
have been cited for its work in Bataan.

One of the first men who was cited for gallantry in action in Abucay was Corporal Bustamante.
He died a real hero's death.

Bustamante was in command of a squad of the 41st Infantry that counterattacked the enemy in
Abucay. The squad in concert with the rest of the platoon it belonged to had steadily
advanced on the Japanese who were tenaciously holding their ground and throwing artillery
and infantry into their defense.

The platoon had to advance by crawling on open rice fields as enemy machine gun fire was
incessant and enemy artillery shelled them as they advanced. They kept crawling until they
came to the dikes in the field, which kept the water contained in the paddies during the
planting season.

From dike to dike, they crawled. Their advance was slow, painful, risky; but it was the only way
they could go. They were also putting into practice something they were taught early in the
war: advancing by rushing was disastrous if the enemy was only a hundred yards or so away.

When Bustamante's squad had advanced to about fifty yards from the line, he ordered his men
to assault with bayonets. As they got up charged, an enemy machine gun opened fire on them.
Bustamante commanded his men to go down but two of them were hit. Bustamante himself
was unhurt but his rifle was hit and rendered useless. He estimated the situation, tried to
locate the enemy machine gun, and spotted it on the edge of a sugarcane field.

Shouting to his assistant to take command of the squad, he started crawling carefully toward
the machine gun that was spitting hot lead on his platoon. Bustamante carried no weapon. He
had left his wrecked rifle behind. He had no grenades. He did not even have a knife. All he had
were his hands and wits to depend on. But he had imposed upon himself the mission of getting
the Japanese machine gun and he was going to do it.

His squad waited as the machine gun kept firing. They saw Bustamante crawling and knew he
meant to save them for the bayonet assault that he had ordered. They must have prayed for
him.

Bustamante kept on crawling. Evidently, the Japanese machine gunner did not see him for the
gun continued to be trained on the platoon a hundred yards away. Bustamante got to within
twenty yards of the machine gun. Still, he was not shot at. He paused, then with one sudden
leap, he ran mightily toward the machine gun.

The machine gunner saw him then and tried to shift his fire, but it was too late. Bustamante
had gotten to where he wanted to be; he kicked the machine gun out of action. Two of
Bustamante's men who had followed him covered the rest of the Japanese machine gun crew
with fire, then stayed down.

In that open field in the midst of artillery firing and small arms fire only Bustamante and the
Japanese machine gunner were not down. Bustamante must have stunned the Japanese
soldier when he hit him squarely in the face for the Japanese soldier's face started bleeding.

The Japanese machine gunner went down, but he got up again and they wrestled. Bustamante
disarmed the Japanese of his bayonet and kept hitting him whenever he could. The Japanese
soldier retaliated using judo. Even when they both were bleeding, the two kept fighting.
Bustamante's men cheered their leader.

Then out of the sky, death poured down on the two men who with bare hands were fighting to
the death. An enemy shell hit them almost directly and killed them both. Bustamante died, but
he accomplished his mission. Heartened by the heroism of their comrade and leader, the
platoon resolved to avenge him. With one great battle cry, the rest of the platoon charged with
bayonets to victory and regained their line. Bustamante was awarded a Distinguished Service
Cross, posthumously.

Sergeant Macatangay's case, which also took place in Abucay, was just as heroic and colorful.
This was during the thick of the fighting in Abucay when the Japanese had kept attacking for
days on end and our men had kept repulsing them. On one of those days, the Japanese attack
had been especially furious. As the Japanese charged, our machine guns mowed them down
but they kept coming. Our guns had been emplaced so as to cover every arch of the tactical
obstacles with fire. Whenever the Japanese soldiers got to about one meter from the wires,
they were shot at. And as they came, they fell. Our Artillery also fired at the enemy up to as far
back as their line of departure, but the attacking Japanese soldiers had continued to come on.

Macatangay was in command of a machine gun section. All day, his two guns had fired on their
final protective lines. The right gun had the left sector of fire and the left gun had the right. They
fired in crisscross fashion, each gun protecting the other.

As the fighting continued, the enemy's artillery took its toll of Macatangay's men. First, his left
gun was left with an incomplete crew, then the right gun's crew was hit by the enemy's artillery.
Macatangay decided to man the right machine gun himself.

All of a sudden, his left gun was silenced, shattered by the enemy's artillery. Macatangay kept
his right gun going. When the Japanese noticed that one of Macatangay's guns was out of
action, they started to run forward. But Macatangay's gun had jammed and would not swing.
There was no way he could hit the oncoming enemy on his right.

He kept his gun going while he studied his next move. Meanwhile, about sixty of the enemy
had advanced to about fifty yards from the wires to his right. For a very short while, he must
have hoped someone would cover his right. Then, realizing that there was no one could help
him, he decided he was not going to be assaulted without doing anything about it.

Before anyone realized what he was doing, Macatangay lifted his machine gun from its
relatively safe emplacement, staggered with it onto the open field, and there exposed to all
kinds of enemy fire, he set his gun. In Victor Maclaglen fashion, he loosened his gun and
swung it freely, catching unaware the oncoming enemy from the right. Then steadily, he fired
until that threat was mowed down.

Staying in the open field with no camouflage, no splinterproof, exposed to enemy sight and
fire, he covered with one gun the sector of two, swinging his gun where the enemy was most
active. Did he think of death? He most probably did. But the thought of death did not deter him
from doing what he felt he needed to do. He was out to stop the enemy; he did it in the best
manner he could think of, irrespective of the danger that it involved. Soon, the enemy called it
a day.

Macatangay's case is a glowing example of the bravery many men of the 41st Division
displayed throughout the fighting in Bataan. For heroism, Macatangay was awarded the
Distinguished Service Cross. The most beautiful part of his story is that he lived through it all.

This next case of a machine gun crew in Abucay is another example of the gallantry of the men
of the 41st Division.

The men were doing their job when their gun emplacement was hit directly by an enemy bomb.
The bomb knocked everyone down, wounded two of the men slightly, and buried in the gun pit
the machine gunner and his assistant who were firing away at the assaulting enemy. Seeing
this, the remaining crew all of them acting as one decided that their comrades had to be
rescued.

As soon as they had recovered from the shock of the bomb, in spite of enemy artillery and
infantry fire, everyone including the two who were wounded dug into the pit with whatever
tools they could get their hands on and frantically tried to save their two buried comrades.
While shells rang and exploded all around and machine guns shot at them, they kept digging
until they were able to drag out the two men unconscious, but still alive.

The gunner was not breathing but had a pulse. One of the men applied his lifesaving
knowledge successfully. Then all of the men who were unhurt tended to the four who had been
hurt, carrying or guiding them to the Battalion Aid Station.

The gun was gone, but the whole crew was safe. All of the men who did not get buried in the
gun pit had risked their lives to save the two among them who were completely helpless. It was
a case of' collective gallantry. What was even more noteworthy was that the men performed
their act of gallantry on their own initiative, without being directed by a leader.

In the encounter at our new PilarBagac line, other gallant acts were reported. Some cases
stand out. There was for instance, the case of Lieutenant Adolfo E. Castillo.

The particular fight Castillo was in for which he was cited lasted for about four days. On the
fourth day of the fighting, the advance troops of a company of our 43rd Infantry were stopped
effectively by an enemy machine gun that was wellemplaced in the ground. They could not hit
it with either rifle or machine gun fire.

The men had one trench mortar but all of the rounds they had fired had been duds.
Grenadethrowing was not a possibility, either. There was, however, a shallow ditch that led
from our position toward the Japanese machine gun and ended about forty yards to the right of
it. But the approach to it was covered by the Japanese machine gun.

Several of Castillo's men tried to get to the ditch and from there to the machine gun, but time
and again they had to turn back as the enemy fired on them. Finally, someone succeeded in
getting to the ditch. But he was wounded and lay there helplessly.

Some of the men tried to run for him but they all failed because they could not expose
themselves to the enemy's machine gun for more than just a few seconds. Lieutenant Castillo
decided to do the job himself.

Castillo ordered his men to keep firing at the Japanese machine gunner to lure the fire away
from him. His men who were behind a dune decided to play a trick on the Japanese machine
gunner. Staying behind the dune, some of them placed their helmets on their hands, then
raised them up for the Japanese to see. To make sure the Japanese machine gunner saw
them, they fired into the air. Their ruse worked. The Japanese gunner shifted his gun and fired
at them. Taking advantage of the situation, Castillo ran like mad until he got to the wounded
man.

He tried to drag the body out but found he could not do so. So he heaved the wounded man
onto one shoulder and unmindful of the machine gun which could have hit him ran as fast as
his legs could carry him. Somehow, he did not get hit. He had barely reached cover when he
collapsed from carrying his heavy load. For his gallantry, Lieutenant Castillo was awarded the
Silver Star.

But the ditch was still open. And the Japanese machine gunner was still firing. Encouraged by
Castillo's gallantry, some of his men volunteered to throw grenades at the machine gun.
Corporal Mojica and Sergeant Robles, the subjects of the next case I will relate, were chosen
for the job.

Taking some grenades with him, Mojica rushed to the ditch but had to get down when the
machine gunner opened fire. He crawled as fast as he could and managed to get to the ditch
unscathed. Crawling through the ditch, he finally got to where he could throw his grenades at
the enemy. He started throwing them.

The Japanese soldiers noticed this and two of them started crawling toward Mojica with their
bayonets. Seeing them, Sergeant Robles grabbed some grenades and ran toward the ditch.
He also managed to get there unharmed although the Japanese machine gun was trained on
him. When he got to within throwing distance, he threw a grenade which killed the two
Japanese soldiers crawling towards Mojica. Then he joined Mojica, and together they threw
grenades at the machine gun.

They hit the machine gun pit squarely, killed the whole crew, and put the gun out of action. A
great cheer rose from our ranks. Without waiting for orders, the rest of the men assaulted the
enemy position and got it. Mojica and Robles were each awarded the Distinguished Service
Cross.

Another reported case of gallantry that stands out in my mind was the case of the private
whose cheeks were pierced with enemy rifle fire.

As soon as the man's commanding officer saw what had happened he ran to him and ordered
him to take cover and then go back for treatment. But the man shook his head. This was a fight
to the death, he said, and he was not yet dead. Wounded he was; but he could still use his eye
and weapons. He was going to go on fighting.

When the order to assault was given, he charged with his bayonet with the rest of the men.
After the assault, he was found lying on the ground having collapsed from loss of blood. He
was awarded the Silver Star.

Still another example of gallantry was the case of Lieutenant Casanova.

I had known Casanova before the war as a medical student who had gotten a reserve
commission as a third lieutenant in the Infantry. At the Infantry School at Camp Murphy, he was
my student in Musketry, Map Reading, Field Fortifications, and Defense Combat. Enrollment at
the Infantry School was open only to regular officers of the Philippine Army so being assigned
there as a student officer was a distinct privilege. Casanova's performance during his duty
training was excellent. In Tagaytay, I was glad to find him in the 41st Division.

In Abucay, Casanova was very useful to his battalion commander He always knew what work
needed to be done and why. When the enemy started attacking, Casanova's company held its
position. Throughout all the fighting, his company held its original line and never gave up an
inch. Casanova was cited and awarded the Silver Star for this.

During our first encounter on the PilarBagac Line, Casanova again displayed courage and
gallantry. After three days of fighting, Casanova's company was ordered to attack. They drove
the enemy out during the last two days of the fighting in their sector.

Later, Casanova's company was assigned to man the Outpost Line of Resistance of the 42nd
Infantry. His company held until they were finally pushed back by the enemy on 30 March, just
before the Japanese succeeded in finally taking Bataan.

CHAPTER 3

Japanese 105s

During the latter part of March, the enemy became active again. Corps G2 reported much
activity on Bagac Bay and Subic Bay. The enemy apparently was landing troops in both
places. Our own Command Post reported the movement of enemy motor columns and foot
troops from San Fernando, Pampanga to Balanga, Bataan, although we did not see them
come forward from Balanga.

There were frequent artillery duels and enemy planes bombed and strafed daily. Then one day,
in the distance, way beyond the range of our artillery, the enemy floated an observation
balloon. We understood why. We had Mt. Samat, but the enemy did not have a good natural
observation post from which they could monitor our new line.

Mt. Samat, which was visible to the enemy from the north, gave us a commanding view of the
rolling plains to the north up to Pampanga, to the west, and to the east up to the sea. We had
at least five observation posts on its peak from where we could observe all enemy movements
closely. Whenever enemy soldiers came within our artillery range, they were shelled.

One night, we observed the headlights of some seven hundred trucks moving from the north
way beyond our artillery range. "They seem to be really preparing for a great offensive,"
General Lim remarked.

The day the Japanese floated their observation balloon, I was inspecting the Regimental
Reserve Line of the 42nd Infantry. Although foxholes and machine gun emplacements had
been dug and some tactical wires had been strung there, the Regimental Reserve at that late
date was not yet satisfactorily organized.

The Outpost Line of Resistance, the Main Line of Resistance, and the Battalion Reserve Line
were organized and ready and would have offered the enemy stiff resistance had they
attacked. But because our men were hungry, weak, and sick, and because of other reasons as
well, it had not been possible to bring the Regimental Reserve line to the same condition.

As I walked down the line just a few minutes after the balloon had risen, I noticed four of our
men walking down Trail 29 toward the forward lines. They had just come out from the
concealment of some big trees when the whining of shells made them scurry for cover.
Scarcely had they found cover when four shells burst in rapid succession where they had
been. The men were not hurt; they resumed their march.

That shelling meant two things to me. First, that the observation balloon was indeed very
useful to the enemy and our slightest movement from now on would be detected. Secondly,
that the enemy very probably had a great stock of ammunition or they would not have wasted
four shells on four men.

I was making these deductions when Colonel Fortier arrived and asked about the Regimental
Reserve Line. He was as concerned about the matter as I was. We went under a big tree and I
pointed the line out to him. It was easy to pick it out in spite of the vegetation because it
followed a ridge.

Colonel Fortier suggested that we could improve the position by moving a part of it forward on
an open slope. I objected explaining that there was very little concealment on that slope as it
was overgrown only with grass and dwarfed shrubs.
"That observation balloon would see our men working and that would be just too bad." I said,
and proceeded to tell him about the incident concerning the four men.
"Our men will just have to be careful, that's all," he said. "And they can work at night." He did
not seem to think much of the observation balloon. I satisfied myself with the thought that I had
informed him about it. "Come with me," he continued. "Let's walk down the line together. "

We arrived at the slope after a while. He proceeded to give me his idea of how to organize the
position. Suddenly, we heard the sound of exploding shells. He stopped talking and listened.
The sound of the shells came closer. We ducked for cover just in time. Smoke and dust filled
the air. Dust and small stones fell on me where I lay. Then, there was silence.

"Colonel Fortier," I shouted, "are you all right?"

"I'm all right," he said. "Those goddamn fools! "

Thus did he and I become witnesses to how hungry for action the Japanese 105s were.

Those days in March then were full o' action and our sagging enthusiasm started to come back
to life. The staff was keyed up to a proper pitch. Work was resumed on the line; foxholes were
improved and better camouflaged. Everyday, the officers went out to make sure our men and
positions were ready for the push that we expected soon. The enemy's activities on Bagac
Bay, their troop movements from the north, the increased activity of their artillery, their bombing
and strafing all pointed to just one thing; they were warming up for the championship game.

As a final grandstand play, the Japanese dropped leaflets on one side of which was printed a
request to anyone who found one to deliver it to General Wainwright. On the other side was
reprinted a message to General Wainwright as CommanderinChief of the U.S. Forces in the
Philippines (USFIP) advising him to surrender for the Japanese were good and ready to attack
Bataan. He was given up to 22 March after which, the message said, the Japanese would feel
free to launch their attack, and bomb and shell every inch of Bataan. The original message
was dropped somewhere near the headquarters of the Philippine Division.

As action loomed, our men lost their listless looks. Gambling was given up for work. Officers
when they went on their inspections were greeted cheerfully by working, sweating men.

The future looked bright enough but we had some real problems. For one thing, the number of
our men who were sick remained high. It was true that it had gone down from forty to thirty
percent, thanks to the skill of our medical officers; but thirty percent was still a high figure. In
addition, our food supply and quality had not improved; and the men soon realized that a
body can be hungry or work hard, but not be hungry and work hard at the same time.

Still, enthusiasm and optimism carried the men along. They recalled how carlier, as they had
fought the Japanese, they had become convinced that the Japanese, man to man, were no
match for them. They were emboldened.

They did not know that the possibility of our being reinforced was small, if not completely gone.
Neither did they know that the Japanese had landed reinforcements. They did not know that
for every one hundred of our men on the line, only seventy were fit to fight. And not only were
the other thirty not fit to fight; they had to be helped.
The men who were sick were no less enthusiastic. These men who had been trying to keep
barely alive became determined to get well soon. If there was going to be a fight, they were
going to be in it, they said. They were not going to be burdens to their comrades.

Changes in the enemy's activities became noticeable. While the enemy still did not attack
outright, the exchange of gunfire became more frequent. The daily morning greeting of
"Piripino Rugao" had stopped. We guessed that new troops probably had relieved the ones
who had been more friendly. Or that possibly the old troops simply had been ordered to overtly
hate the Filipinos anew.

Our Outpost Line of Resistance was busy. Lieutenant Casanova was still in command of the
Outpost Line of Resistance troops of the 42nd Infantry. Lieutenant Powers, an American
mestizo, was in command of the Outpost Line of Resistance of the 43rd Infantry.

The 41st Infantry had no Outpost Line of Resistance as the terrain to their front was difficult to
defend. Instead, hourly patrols kept the 41st Infantry regimental commander informed of
enemy activity to their front. Requests for artillery fire from the Outpost Line of Resistance
were given priority. And orders were issued to relieve all the sick men on the line.

Our estimate was that the Outpost Line of Resistance would be able to hold the enemy for a
while. The men there had orders to hold the line. If pressure from the enemy should become
too strong, the men of the Outpost Line of Resistance could be withdrawn to the Regimental
Reserve Line. The Main Line of Resistance would then take over the fight until the Regimental
Reserve Line had to be given up. Within that time it was hoped help or reserves could be sent
forward.

CHAPTER 4

Initiative

By 26 March, it had become normal for our Artillery, especially at night, to fire at the enemy
troops immediately in front of our Outpost Line of Resistance. In the 43rd Infantry sector, the
Outpost Line of Resistance had good observation posts such as trees, from which to observe
the effect of our artillery fire on the enemy.

The 42nd Infantry sector, however, because it was very close to where the enemy was, did not.
Lieutenant Casanova, displaying his usual valor, decided to do something about the situation.

Casanova knew the terrain in front of his position. He had reconnoitered it before organizing it.
He knew where the enemy pocket was. But he could not, nor could anyone else, observe the
effect of our artillery fire on the enemy.

Our Artillery knew where the enemy position was located and assumed a shot within a hundred
yards of it to be a direct hit. But they had no way of actually knowing. Casanova wanted to
know. One day, he decided to find out.

For several nights, when the darkness itself was enough to scare the ordinary man, Casanova
taking a telephone and a lot of wire with him crawled to where the enemy was. He would crawl
as close as he could to where they were until he could actually hear them talking. Then he
would telephone our Artillery to ask them to fire. Each time, he observed the effect of our
Artillery's shot and then told the artillery men how far from, or near, the enemy it had fallen.

One night, Casanova decided he wanted a direct hit on a machine gun nest in front of him.
Telephoning our Artillery from his position close to where the enemy was, he asked for a
fiftyyard change in the range of fire. This was unusual and Major Alfonso Arellano, the Artillery
officer at the Fire Direction Center, told him so.

Fifty yards is too small a change," Arellano said, "I'll come down one hundred yards."

“That would be short, Sir," Casanova replied, "by about fifty yards.”
“What do you expect the Artillery to do'?" asked Arellano. "Hit the machine gunner directly on
the head? If we hit that machine gun within fifty yards, it'll be gone. We considered our last two
shots direct hits. "

"Yes, sir," Casanova said, "but if you hit fifty yards too short again you'll hit me, too, directly.
Your last two shots fell just to my rear here. "

"What the hell!" Arellano roared. "Are you that close to the target?"

"Yes, sir," Casanova said.

"I'll be goddamned!," Arellano said. "All right, we'll go down fifty yards".

"A fiftyyard change in range!" Arellano told me later. "Either that man Casanova has a lot of
nerve or he didn't realize he had become part of the target."

Arellano gave Casanova four rounds of artillery fire. Casanova reported direct hits on the
machine gun.

"How did you know the target was really being hit?" I asked Casanova later. "It was dark and
the vegetation in front of you was very thick."

"I heard the Japanese soldiers groan and shout as they got hit, Sir," he explained.

"Didn't you know that you yourself could have gotten hit?"

"I knew that, Sir," he said, "Some of the shots sprayed me with soil and stones. But unless that
machine gun was directly hit, it was going, to remain a menace to me and my men. So I took
my chances."

There was a soldier for you, I thought. He took his chances. And why not? Isn't life after all a
series of taking chances? From birth to death, one takes chances and either makes good, or
fails.
"Initiative" was the Army's term for one's willingness to take chances. If one was not willing to
take a chance, he had no initiative

If he was willing to take chances, he had initiative.

When one had initiative, he was either good or bad, depending on the results of his actions. If
he took a chance and succeeded, he was patted on the back and commended. If he failed, he
got a calling. down, or was categorized as being "Class B."

On the battlefield, taking chances is most critically needed. But often on the battlefield, one
does not have the time to study a problem or a situation and make the "best" decision. One
has only a little time to estimate the situation, make a decision, execute it vigorously, and hope
it turns out right.

When Casanova of the 42nd Infantry attempted to disable the Japanese machine gun, he took
his chances, and succeeded.
He was patted on the back.

The men in the 43rd Infantry sector were busy using their initiative as well. One night, for
instance, when they were raided by the enemy who had located their Outpost Line of
Resistance, they took their chances. In the darkness of the night, having been alerted that
enemy soldiers were creeping stealthily like animals through the brush intending to charge
them in their foxholes, the men decided to come out and wait for the enemy in the open. When
they heard the first twigs break, they fired. When the enemy charged, they fought them at
close range with cold steel.

About 30 March, at night, the enemy made a real push on our entire Outpost Line of
Resistance. It was a local attack that presaged bigger things.

14S
 PART SIX
THE JAPANESE ATTACK

CHAPTER 1

A Promotion

On 31 March 1942, General Lim called for me.

Lately, he had been looking like he was feeling low but today he seemed to be in high spirits.
Ever since the middle of February when he had gotten sick with malaria a recurrence, he
thought, of the malaria he had contracted five years earlier he had been having chills every
afternoon. The meager diet we were getting was also beginning to tell on his health.

I supposed there were moments, too, when he got really lonely for his family. I remembered
the night Mrs. Lim spoke to him via Radio San Francisco. She had been in the United States
since August or September 1941. He must have been touched to hear his wife's voice again
and overjoyed to know that his family was well. But knowing they were so far away must have
made him very lonely.

Reporting to General Lim, I found out that he had called for me because he had a question. In
his usual straightforward manner, he asked, "Can you run an Infantry regiment?"

"Yes, Sir," I answered without hesitating. I was an Engineer officer, it was true, but I was also a
graduate of the Infantry School. I had as much Infantry training as the regimental commanders
of the 41st Division and the other Filipino divisions. I felt that in Abucay I had proved that I
could use my wits in the thick of combat. I had no doubt that I could do the job.

"That's all I wanted to know," General Lim said and he dismissed me.

I left the general feeling a little disappointed. Was he playing a joke on me? I put the interview
out of my mind and proceeded to conduct my inspections.

My immediate job was to see that the Main Line of Resistance was properly prepared to meet
the enemy attack which we were expecting shortly. I found our men there feverishly improving
their positions. The sick were being evacuated to the Battalion Command Posts so they would
not be an obstacle to the movement of the troops or a mental hazard to their unit commanders.

About midafternoon, our Main Line of Resistance was ready. The 41st Infantry in our left sector
had a beautiful field of fire and positions which, we were convinced, would stop the Japanese
infantry. In anticipation of a tank attack, the broad level ground to the front had been planted
with land mines. All approaches to this sector were covered.

The central sector, held by the 42nd Infantry, was a line on the south bank of the Tiawer River.
It was carefully camouflaged and sheltered, with field of fire clear. Everything was set up so
that the enemy would have a hard time crossing the river and to put a heavy toll on their men.

The 43rd Infantry sector on the right was equally well prepared, but the level ground on its front
was thickly grown with low shrubs we had tried to clear as best we could without giving our
position away. The banks of the Tiawer River there were not as high and steep as they were in
the sector of the 42nd Infantry. The river nonetheless provided an obstacle.
I noted that on the whole, this line was better prepared than our line in Abucay had been,
although in Abucay we could see the enemy from a further distance as they came to attack.

When I arrived at the Command Post of the 3rd Battalion of the 42nd Infantry, Lieutenant
Colonel Magtoto, the battalion commander, congratulated me. He said I was being groomed to
be the Regimental Commander of the 42nd Infantry.

“How did you know?" I asked.

He said he had heard about it.

I proceeded to the Division Command Post. There, I was greeted by Major Ojeda who said,
"You're lucky, Bert. You're going to get a command. The general has decided to assign you as
regimental commander of the 42nd Infantry."

“Who told you that?" I asked.

“Colonel Domaoal,” was his reply.

I went to see Colonel Domaoal, and asked him about it.

“It's true,” Colonel Domaoal said. "You know the general. He considered all the officers of the
42nd Infantry, and then the staff. He went over all the names asking me for my comments as
he did so. When he came to your name he said, 'I think Atienza will fight, don't you?' I said
'Yes.' He decided right then and there. Better go to him. He wants to see you.”

“It's good that you've come," General Lim said when I reported to him. “I'm assigning you as
regimental commander of the 42nd Infantry. I'm convinced you can run an Infantry regiment but
I wanted to get your own reaction so I asked you if you thought you could do the job. I'm glad
you said yes. "

I sat, listening and thinking. For an Engineer to be assigned as Division Inspector General as I
had been was unusual enough and I was enjoying the work. Now I was being assigned to
command an Infantry regiment. It was a distinct honor.

The general continued, "How much time do you think you'll need to get to know your staff?"

"One week, Sir," I said.

"That's good enough for me," he said. "Tomorrow I'll assign you as Regimental Executive
Officer. After seven days, orders will be issued making you Regimental Commander."

"Yes, Sir," I said, and prepared to leave. General Lim motioned for me to stay and offered me a
cigarette which I took and lighted.
"Atienza," he said, "you have served our Division well, both as Engineer Battalion Commander
and Division Inspector General. Now I'm giving you the opportunity to command an Infantry
regiment. Few Engineer officers will ever be given that chance.
"In the Army as in other fields of life, one rises to the top not merely because he is good. Many
good men never rise because they are not given the opportunity to rise. I am giving you that
opportunity. I'm making you a regimental commander not merely because I like you personally.
I do not play favorites. But I know you will do the job well. I trust you and know you will not fail.
Do your best. Make a name for yourself."

He paused again. I waited.

"Someday," he continued, "we, the older officers, will pass away. We may not even survive this
war. You younger men will take our place. I would like to see the officers of this Division make
good. After the war, I would like to see you people lead our country. I would like to live long
enough to see it happen. If I survive the war, I will stay in the Army and continue to serve only
enough to see that those who justly deserve it for their work in Bataan are duly rewarded."

He stopped, puffed on his cigar, stood up, and stared in the distance. His eyes were filled with
a look of longing, of wanting to carry out what he had just described. He looked like an
architect seeing in his mind's eye the thing he wanted to create already completed, a thing of
beauty.

I wanted to say something but could not. General Lim was not given to long speeches. He was
usually curt and direct. Now he seemed to want to put into words his innermost thoughts. Here
was the greatest Filipino soldier telling me his plans not only for the war but also after it. I was
honored. I did not think it my place to comment. It was enough that General Lim had confided
in me. I just sat and waited, my cigarette burning short between my fingers.

After a while, he faced me and said, "All right, you know what I expect of you. Go and do it."
He extended his hand. I grasped it firmly, wanting so much for him to know that I understood
and was not going to fail him. In that handclasp I hoped I could convey what words could not. I
saluted him, said, "Yes, Sir," one more time, then turned to go. After I had gone a few steps, I
heard him say, "Good luck, Bert." I did not turn back. My eyes were welling up with tears.
I went to my tent, packed my things, and got ready to report to the 42nd Infantry Command
Post. Captain Narvaez came and said he and I might as well go together. He had just been
assigned as the Executive Officer of the 3rd Battalion of the 42nd Infantry. The other staff
officers joined us, congratulated us, and wished us luck.

The next morning, before I left, Colonel Domaoal wished me luck. Major Ojeda gave me a can
of condensed milk that he had saved. I would need it, he said, because milk was not being
rationed anymore. He also gave me some cigarettes. Lieutenant Santos came and gave me
some cigarettes also and a can of Hills Bros. coffee. I was overwhelmed. I knew how they both
treasured their food.

On Wednesday, 1 April 1942, before lunch, I started out for my new assignment. We were into
Holy Week now. Holy Thursday and Good Friday were coming up. It was extremely hot.

The men and officers that I met on my way to the 42nd Infantry Command Post seemed filled
with some kind of merry excitement. A carryover I wagered, from the Holy Weeks of their
childhood, when on Holy Thursday and Good Friday – like all Filipino children - they must have
been told not to be mischievous and rowdy; but the rest of the week was pervaded by a quiet
happiness that burst into great rejoicing on Easter Sunday.
I remembered how when I was a child, very few people walked on the streets on Holy
Thursday and Good Friday. Even housewives who on other days would have been doing their
marketing and other chores that took them outside the house stayed home and sang the
pasion, a recounting in song of the passion of Christ. As I grew older and times changed,
people became less concerned about being restrained on those two days. Even so, they
remained relatively inactive. We hoped the Japanese would be as indisposed to activity during
the next two days as most of us were.

Arriving at the Command Post of the 42nd Infantry about lunchtime, I reported to Colonel
Lizardo, the regimental commander. I had known him both officially and personally for
sometime and had learned to respect him. He received me warmly and appreciatively then
showed me my quarters, a palm frond shack with a buho floor which I regarded as being quite
acceptable considering the circumstances.

After lunch, I greeted the other staff officers of the regiment. Captains Abeleda (S1; Personnel)
and Barrenengoa (S3; Operations) I knew from my college days. Lieutenant Sevilla (S2;
Intelligence) and Captain Leuterio (S4; Logistics) I knew well from Tagaytay.

I greeted the other officers of the regiment also; as well as some of the men, some of whom I
had come to know in Tagaytay and Abucay. I found that I knew almost all of the regiment's
company commanders.

Then I spent some time getting reacquainted with the 42nd Infantry's three battalion
commanders. Two of them, Lieutenant Colonel Salazar of the 1st Battalion, and Lieutenant
Colonel Magtoto of the 3rd Battalion were higherranking than myself. The commander of the
2nd Battalion was Major Rillo.

Colonel Magtoto had been my instructor and later, fellow instructor at the Reserve Officers
Staff School. Major Rillo had been my student at the Infantry School. I had never served with
or under Colonel Salazar, but I knew him.

To get acclimated to the unit, I spent part of the day going through regimental files, looking at
orders issued long before then. I also talked with Lieutenant Colonel Atkinson, the regimental
instructor, and Captain Kramer, his assistant. As I assessed the officer composition of the 42nd
Infantry, I knew that by working together we would do well what was expected of us.

The next morning, with Barrenengoa and Sevilla, I went to the Main Line of Resistance to look
the men over. We were expecting action and I was glad to see that the men who were not sick
were enthusiastic. They said they were prepared for the worst. They sounded like they meant
it. Barrenengoa, Sevilla and I stayed on the line and had lunch with Rillo whose men had
caught some wild chickens.

That afternoon, Lieutenant Colonel Atkinson was relieved as unit instructor of the 42nd Infantry
and replaced by Colonel MacDonald. MacDonald was a likeable person with a ready and
cheerful smile which the staff officers appreciated.

The night of 2 April was a moonlit night. Spending it in the forest was an enchanting
experience. Barrenengoa and I were talking, smoking, and appreciating the moonlight when
Sevilla and Leuterio came up. They said they had not smoked real cigarettes for some time. I
sent around the pack Ojeda had given me. I was giving Barrenengoa some of Santos' Hills
Bros. coffee and Ojeda's condensed milk saying we might as well enjoy these, too, when the
telephone rang. It was for me.

"Hello, Cavalier," the voice at the other end of the line said. "Congratulations. With you,
Salgado, and myself as regimental commanders, it'll be all young blood in command of the
41st Division's regiments." It was Colonel Cruz, the regimental commander of the 41st Infantry.

"Yes," I said, acknowledging his remark. "And I hope I'll be able to keep up with you and
Salgado. You two are good."
"Did I hear my name mentioned?" another party cut in. It was Colonel Salgado, the regimental
commander of the 43rd Infantry. Somehow either Chong, the Division's Signal Officer; or
"Banta," our Regimental Signal Officer, had connected the Regimental Command Posts in a
conference call. "I'm glad the three of us will be fighting together," Salgado continued. "I won't
have to worry about my flank."

"And that leaves me with little to worry about with you to my right, and Fidel to my left.” I said.

“Listen, you two,” Cruz announced. “Do you know what Zobel heard over his radio?”

Salgado and I listened intently. We were always eager for news from abroad. Every rumor
brought us fresh hope. Some wise guy at Division Headquarters described the state we were
in this way: The only thing that was keeping us going, he kidded, was our sense of humor.

Zobel heard," Cruz continued, "that a Negro Division has landed in Mindoro and will be landing
in Luzon soon. Other contingencies, the report said, have landed in Cebu and Panay and are
busy fighting now. Won't it be good when they get to Luzon? Then we'll be able to go on the
counteroffensive and the Japanese will have to fight on two fronts.”

"But why land, of all places, in the Visayas?" I asked. "Luzon is the important point."

"We don't know the strategy," Salgado offered. to run the war,

After an exchange of strategical opinions on how we said good night but not until Cruz had
said, "Bert, I'm inviting you to lunch tomorrow. I'll have shrimps from the Pantigan River."

"Good, I'll be there," I answered.

"How about me?" Salgado teased.

"Let me ask you next time," Cruz said. "This is to celebrate Bert's promotion." Salgado thought
that was fair.

Barrenengoa who had been standing by had poured steaming hot coffee into various canteen
cups and now was adding the condensed milk. I told him and the other officers who were
around about the rumored reinforcements.
"It can't be true," someone said.

"But then again, it could be true," said another.

"If reinforcements are coming," someone else said, "they better come before the rains. If they
come too late, we'll all die of pneumonia, rheumatism, and malaria."

"That is, if we don't decide to take the counteroffensive, reinforcements or no reinforcements,"

somebody else added. "General Wainwright is reputed to be a courageous and aggressive
man. He might just decide to take the offensive."
We spent the night chatting, exchanging views, and telling stories; then finally bade one
another "Good night" and "See you tomorrow." If only we could have foreseen what tomorrow,
the day after tomorrow, and all the other days after tomorrow would bring.

CHAPTER 2

Good Friday 1942

April 3, 1942. This was tomorrow. It was Good Friday. The sun rose early and bright, its darts
dispelling the morning gloom in the forest with a thousand spears of light. Somewhere a wild
rooster crowed and woke me up with visions of a hearty, tasty chicken breakfast.

I got up, went to the brook that ran through the 42nd Infantry's Command Post, and washed my
sleepy eyes awake. I passed the regiment's S4 dumps and found Captain Leuterio having an
early morning cup of rice coffee. I had a cup, too. It warmed my body and jerked me out of my
sleepiness. Breakfast today was to be our usual rice gruel seasoned with salt. jerked me out
my sleepiness

The main item on my agenda was to see about the portion of the Regimental Reserve Line
that Colonel Fortier wanted us to prepare in a hurry. However, Col. Lizardo gave me
instructions to stay in the Command Post where I found things to attend to.

About 8:30 a.m., while Barrenengoa, Kramer, and I were talking,the enemy started shelling.
Believing we were beyond the range of the enemy's fire, we paid no attention to it. But we
could hear the intense shelling on the Main Line of Resistance.

A telephone call from Major Ojeda quickly brought us into the range of the enemy's activity. A
3inch navy gun and crew, he said, were being sent to the 42nd Infantry. The gun was to be
used as an antitank weapon to cover the bridge over the Catmon River.

Suddenly, a shell burst on the forward slope of the ridge fifty yards in front of us, which
afforded us defilade. We took cover in Kramer's dugout as shell fragments came raining down.
Then other shells fell close to where we were. The shelling on our lines kept coming thick and
fast. While the shells were falling, enemy planes in threeflight formations hovered above and
bombed.

After about thirty minutes of shelling and bombing, I called up the front line battalions of the
42nd Infantry and ordered them to prepare for an attack. The shelling, I concluded, had to be a
preparatory barrage. I knew that the enemy fired artillery on targets of opportunity but never as
much and as fast as they were firing now.

For the past half hour, they had been firing at the tremendous speed of about five explosions
per second.

I noted as I listened that the shelling was confined to the sectors of the 42nd and 43rd Infantry
of our Division, and to the 21st Division sector to our right. I called Colonel Cruz of the 41st
Infantry to find out if he was being shelled. He said he was not but his men were in readiness
for an attack. I called Colonel Salgado of the 43rd Infantry. He said his sector was being torn to
pieces. I called our frontline battalions and they said they were ready but the shelling was very
thick. Colonel Magtoto on our Regimental Reserve Line said his line was being shelled, too.

Then the shelling closest to us stopped, allowing us to climb out of the dugout. It was nice to
be out in the open again. Colonel Domaoal called to find out what was happening in our sector.
I continued to keep in touch with our frontline units by phone.
Soon, the enemy shelling in our sector started anew. We ran for shelter. Colonel MacDonald,
Captain Kramer, 'Lieutenant Captain Barrenengoa, and I shared the colonel's dugout. I brought
my indispensable telephone with me. The shells were failing very close, fragments hitting as
close as the entrance of our dugout.

Toward noon, Colonel Salazar, commanding our regiment's 1st Battalion, called up from his
Command Post to report that enemy planes had dropped incendiaries on the Main Line of
Resistance and that the dry grass and buho there had caught on fire.

"What are you going to do?" I asked him.

"We'll stay," he said.

Major Rillo of our 2nd Battalion called to report that his Main Line of Resistance on the Tiawer
bank was also in flames due to incendiaries.

"What do you plan to do?" I asked.

"We'll stick it out, Sir," he answered. "We can't withdraw, anyway. The shelling is uniform, from
the MLR to the RRL."

I called Colonel Magtoto of our 3rd Battalion. He said his Regimental Reserve Line was being
hit very fast, with their foxholes directly hit.

"Any casualties?" I asked.

"So far, few," he said, "as I have ordered my men out of their foxholes into defiladed assembly
areas from where they can counterattack when ordered:"

"Do you think the enemy will attack soon?"

“Yes, I'm sure of it,” he replied.

I called Division Headquarters to let them know what was happening in our area.

"What do you plan to do?" Ojeda asked.

“We'll stick it out," I said. I asked Ojeda if he had any information from our observation post.

"They've observed at least seventeen batteries firing on our sector and part of the 21st
Division's on a twokilometer front. The batteries are close," he said.

"Why doesn't our Artillery fire back continuously, too?" I asked.

"They do," he said. "Arellano shoots like hell until the planes come, and then he has to stop.
He has orders not to fire when planes are around."

"We're in a fine pickle," I said. "The enemy artillery blasts us at will. Our artillery does not even
need the enemy's artillery to silence it. A few planes, and our guns are silenced."

"But what can we do about it? We have no planes," Ojeda said. "Oh, yes, we do," I said, in a
desperate attempt at humor. "Didn't you see them this morning?"

"No. Where?”

"Over us. They're camouflaged to look like Japanese planes."

"You're kidding," Ojeda said.

" No," I said, "and to complete the deception they are now bombing and strafing our positions,
even burning our MLR."

"Go to hell," he said and hung up.

Colonel MacDonald, Barrenengoa, and Kramer were smiling when I hung up the phone.
"That's the spirit," the Colonel said. "As long as we keep our sense of humor, we can't be
beaten." But after lunch, Colonel MacDonald said, "Our boys are taking a beating."

It was true. And after all the shelling and the bombing, there had to be much damage by now. I
thought about the men in the foxholes. Those foxholes had splinterproof. Ordinarily, the men
crouching in them were safe from shell fire and even bombing and strafing unless foxholes
were hit directly. But what must be happening to the men in their foxholes now that all around
them the buho and dry leaves were burning? I was greatly concerned.

Early in the day, I noted from our regimental S1 Captain Abeleda's strength report that our
regiment had an effective strength of about 1,400 men. Of these only 379 were not sick or
convalescing. We had only 379 to man a regimental sector!

Yesterday, when I went to see the men who were sick and lying down in their grass bunks, I
found them too weak to even walk. What was happening to them now? I made sure the
commanders concerned had gathered them to some safe place as Colonel Magtoto had done
with his Regimental Reserve Line men.
I called Colonel Magtoto again. There was no change in the situation in his sector. I called
Colonel Salgado of the 43rd Infantry. He said he had lost contact with his frontline units. "It's
getting bad," he said. "While the enemy continues to shell and burn our positions, we have no
way of knowing what's happening. It's getting really bad.”He sounded desperate. I hung up
before I started feeling that way, too.

Thus far, I still was feeling no differently from the way that I normally did. I had been through all
sorts of fire on earlier occasions and had managed not to get inordinately excited. But today,
the volume of shelling and bombing was a hundred times greater, a thousand times more
accurate. And here I was, in relative safety while the men out in the field were dying, roasting,
being mutilated beyond recognition as they waited for a letup that would not come.

I knew the men could fight, but just now there was nothing to fight. All they could do was stay
in their foxholes, needing fresh air but getting only acrid vapors and scorching pellets of steel.
Above them, the air continued to be punctuated by explosions and filled with fire and dust.

I tried to think of other things and my mind settled on today. From somewhere in my mind, I
retrieved this passage which I had read and liked. It went roughly like this: "Yesterday is but a
dream, tomorrow only a vision. We have only today. So live this day that every yesterday may
be a pleasant dream and every tomorrow a vision of hope. "

Live today, my mind repeated. It seemed we did not even have today.

My mind wandered back to the men in their foxholes; and I wished that they and all the rest of
us somehow could survive today; that we somehow could see it become tomorrow. But I knew
that if we did, never would it be a pleasant dream. Never could it be anything but an unending
nightmare.

Today was Good Friday, I continued reflecting. On this day, two thousand years ago, Christ
suffered and died for humankind. Were we to suffer and die today? God, no! I protested; not
yet.

A loud explosion jarred me out of my musing. It was about 3:00 pm. now. The shelling had not
abated.

"Shouldn't the enemy be attacking with their infantry now?" I asked Colonel MacDonald.
"They've been shelling for six hours."

"Yes, I expect that to happen anytime now," he said. "I don't know why they haven't yet; but I'm
sure they haven't, or they would have lifted their artillery by now."

I heard someone calling for me and I shouted, "Here!" A messenger, flushed and sweating all
over, handed me a message from Colonel Salazar who had tried to get me by phone but could
not. Salazar's message said his whole sector was afire and the smoke would not clear. He had
withdrawn his men to the Regimental Reserve Line close to his Command Post. I reported this
to Colonel Lizardo then called Division Headquarters to inform them of the situation. Ojeda
said he would give me the orders for our regiment as soon as they were issued by General
Lim.
After talking to Ojeda, I called our Division's Observation Post and got Sergeant Arvisu. Arvisu,
the son of a physician, was a student at the Ateneo, the Jesuit college in Manila, and was a
champion collegiate debater. Like many of his contemporaries, he was called to the colors
because of his ROTC training. One day in Abucay when the Division Observation Post was
bombed and shelled, the Division Command Post asked for reports. They found 1hal all the
men there had taken cover or withdrawn. All but Sergeant Arvisu. He had stayed to observe
what was going on; and his vivid reporting of the enemy's activity was made the basis of
operations iii the counterattacks that we subsequently launched.

Today, Arvisu was at his post again.

"Hello, Teddy, what do you see out there?" I asked.

"The buho on the MLR is burning and the fire in the center has crept up to the south, Sir," he
said. "But I can't see much else. The whole area's covered with smoke and dust."

I asked him to observe closely enemy troop movements in front of the 42nd Infantry and to let
me know as soon as he noticed anything unusual.

It was about 4:00 p.m. now.

As I was talking to Colonel Lizardo on the phone giving him the information I had received from
Arvisu, the operator cut in. It was Major Ojeda with our regimental orders from Division
Headquarters. Our orders were to move all of our men back to the Regimental Reserve Line
and to hold it at all cost. I hurried to send the orders out to our three front-line battalions.
I called for three messengers. They each were to take identical messages to Colonel Salazar
of the 1st Battalion, Major Rillo of the 2nd Battalion, and Colonel Magtoto of the 3rd Battalion. I
told them theirs was a very difficult and very important j ob. On their success in delivering the
messages depended the defense of our regiment. They said they understood their missions,
saluted, then went on their way.

When I had gotten out of the dugout to write the orders that I had given to the messengers, the
shelling in our vicinity had actually abated slightly. Then I decided to stay out longer. Colonel
MacDonald, Kramer, and Barrenengoa came out, too; to stand, walk around, and get some
fresh air.

After what seemed to be a long time of waiting, the messengers started to come back one at a
time. Colonel Magtoto and Major Rillo acknowledged receipt of the messages. I still had to
hear from Colonel Salazar.

As I waited, someone who had just arrived at our sector said enemy tanks had crossed the
Taiwer River and were firing at our withdrawing troops.
"Who told you that?" I asked him.

"The 43rd Infantry men, Sir, who are now moving back on the Catmon Trail," he said.

I sent Barrenengoa to verify the moving back of the 43rd Infantry on the Catmon Trail. He
returned after a while and reported it was true.

Things were really happening now, I thought. If enemy tanks had indeed come in, it was time
to prepare for the worst. I only hoped the bridge over the Catmon Trail had already been
demolished. If not, in less than an hour, the tanks would be in our Division Command Post.

I called Arvisu at the Observation Post. He had just seen the tanks.

"I was just going to call you up, Sir," he said. "I've just seen the tanks, five or six of them.
They're moving south on the PilarBagac Road on the approach to the bridge. They're firing as
they advance."

I called Colonel Lizardo to ask if we could move our Regimental Command Post to the rear, as
it was too close to the Regimental Reserve Line where the fighting would be. He agreed.

Wanting to know what our next move would be, I called Ojeda at Division Headquarters.

"We'll wait for orders from Corps Headquarters," he said.

That we were moving back to a rear Command Post had to be relayed to the staff and the
other officers of the 42nd Infantry. I sent runners out. Soon, our men and officers were busy
packing papers and clothing. I packed my musette bag. If we had to withdraw in a hurry, I was
prepared to leave all my things behind except for my papers and notes, and an extra set of
clothing.

All of a sudden, I was surprised to see a band of our men streaming into the Command Post.
"What's going on?" I asked the officer who was leading them. The man was supposed to be in
the field, but here he was.

"No more, Sir!" he said. "All is gone! We're licked!" His eyes were ablaze and he was waving
his arms frantically about, gesticulating like a windmill.

I watched him closely.

There's no use anymore," he said. "No more." His eyes looked wild and frightened, his hair
was disheveled, his clothes were torn and burned in places. "No more, sir, " he kept saying.
"All is gone."

I could perceive what the man had been through. He had been through fire and steel and his
nerves could no longer take it. I had no doubt there were others like him for we had been, and
were, going through some indescribably difficult days. But it was demanded of an officer to be
in control of himself, at least in front of his command.

"Shut up!" I ordered him.

"No more, Sir. No use, I tell you," he kept saying.

The man had to be stopped before he demoralized everyone in the Command Post. I had to
think fast.

I drew my .45 out and pointing it at him, said, "Shut up or I'll slug you." The man made no
attempt to draw his gun.
"No more, Sir! What's the use?" he said. "You can kill me if you want to, but there's no use
anymore. We're beaten."

I knew I was not going to shoot one of my own men. He needed my help and I wanted to help
him. But I had to stop him from raving any more. I put my pistol away and I slapped him. He
wheeled about, stunned and jarred.

Then he stood up, shaking his head vigorously as if trying to get a hold of himself. I waited.

'I'm sorry, Sir," he said, seemingly recovered.

I was sorry, too, I told him; but I had to do it. I took him by the arm, sat him down,and talked to
him. He related what had happened in his sector. He told about the horrible punishment his
men had had to take, so far, this Good Friday.

The shelling, he said, had made his men take cover in their foxholes and dugouts and they had
stayed there, chatting or smoking, waiting for the shelling to stop. At first they had taken the
shelling to be one of the enemy's usual whims. In the relative safety of their foxholes, they had
paid no attention to it especially since the shelling had started on the Battalion Reserve Line.
They waited for it to stop. But when the shelling persisted and no letup came, his men became
alarmed.

When the shells started falling directly on theMain Line of Resistance, they had stayed
crouched in their foxholes. When the enemy planes started dropping incendiaries causing the
dry leaves and bamboo to burn, some of the men had lighted their cigarettes on the burning
bamboo. It was kind of fun, a change from the monotony of the past month. But when the heat
increased and they found their surroundings all ablaze, they started to run out of their foxholes,
into the shelling. Better to die by a shell fragment quickly, they thought, than to stay in their
foxholes and slowly but surely be roasted to death like pigs.

Then they ran back to the Battalion Reserve Line, but the Battalion Reserve Line was gone.
Where it had been, they found only a lot of pockmarks on the even face of the earth. They
stayed in those craters hoping they would not be hit. But some of them did get hit.

After a while, they found themselves getting burned alive again as the fire from the Main Line
of Resistance spread on to the lush underbrush in the Battalion Reserve Line and beyond.
Once more, they had moved back, away from slow hell fire to what appeared to be certain
death; once more through a rain of steel, this time to the Regimental Reserve Line which they
hoped would be a refuge. Getting there, they found the Regimental Reserve Line gone also.
They found just another bunch of pockmarks where it had been.

All in one day then, the demoralized commander and his men had gone through a whole
gamut of sensations. A thousand times they heard death roaring from far away, becoming
louder and coming nearer and nearer. A thousand times, they saw death strike their friends,
who had fought and lived with them, They saw those friends get scattered into bits; flesh and
blood splashing in all directions; human limbs flying to perch on the limbs of trees.

A thousand times, they smelled death, its mantle of destruction ever perceptible, audible, and
visible as with fire and steel it tried to smother them. They smelled death as it enveloped them
in pungent gunpowder mixed with the smell of freshly dug earth as in a cemetery, with the
scent of freshly cut trees, the odor of burning leaves and wood, the stench of burning clothes,
leather, and flesh.

A thousand times, they felt death as it drew closer and closer to them, its breath now cold, then
hot; its talons clawing at their heads and shoulders tearing their flesh and clothes; its fury
battering them now to the right and then to the left. They saw, heard, smelled, and felt death,
and yet they were alive. No wonder the hapless commander had broken down.

In an attempt to help him recover himself, I asked him in a friendly, personal tone, "Are you
willing to stake your life on another try at defending the RRL or whatever line we may have to
hold?"

He looked at me understandingly with eyes that were clear. Taking my hand, he said "Sir, I feel
ashamed of myself. You've known me under better conditions. Of course, I'll do that if that is
what you want.”

I want it not for myself, but for the regiment, the Division " I said, wishing I did not have to ask
him. But I felt it had to be done if he was to vindicate himself. Giving him my hand, I wished
him luck then watched him gather his men about fifty of them who willingly obeyed him.
Composed again, he marched them out of the Command Post to go to the Regimental
Reserve Line.
CHAPTER 3

Another Withdrawal

By now, it was clear: if our Division was going to keep alive the men we still had, it was
necessary to withdraw again. This was certainly true of the 42nd Infantry Regiment which I
was shortly expected to be in command of. I was not sure that we could keep our men under
control when we executed the withdrawal, but we were going to do our best.

I called Division Headquarters. All excited, Ojeda answered the phone.

"Orders have been issued," he said. "Your regiment is to cover the withdrawal of the 43rd
Infantry which is now withdrawing along the Catmon Trail. Then you will withdraw with your lst
and 3rd Battalions. Your 2nd Battalion will be attached to Cruz's 41st Infantry. You'll withdraw
your regiment to the vicinity of the Artillery Command Post on Trail 64 where you will
reassemble and reorganize your men. You'll receive further orders then."

After talking to Ojeda, I called the Observation Post.

"The tanks have crossed the bridge, Sir, and have stopped," Arvisu said. "Behind the tanks are
three columns of infantry, walking. It seems they met with no opposition as they walked
through the RRL because they have kept their columns and their arms seemed to be slung."

I wrote down the orders for our withdrawal and called for six messengers. The six men who
reported had their packs on their backs and looked like they were ready to withdraw to the
rear. Not yet, I told them; we were not withdrawing yet. We still had work to do.

"I want you to deliver these messages to our battalion commanders and then report back to
me," I said. "These are the orders for their withdrawal. All of them are on the RRL. They do not
know yet that we are withdrawing so it is very important that they get these orders."

The men listened but looked uncertain. They looked at one another as if expecting someone to
protest. No one did. As I had done with the messengers that I had sent out earlier, I told these
messengers how important their mission was, then asked if they had any questions. They had
none. They saluted and left in pairs.

I called Colonel Cruz to find out what was happening in the sector of his 41st Infantry. While
our unit, the 42nd Infantry, and Colonel Salgado's 43rd Infantry had been shot at all day by the
enemy, his, he said, had not.

A little later, Colonel Salazar of the 1st Battalion of our regiment arrived with his staff. His
whole battalion had withdrawn from the Regimental Reserve Line; they were now on the
Catmon Trail moving back. I told him to organize delaying positions on the Catmon Trail.

I went to see Captain Leuterio, our regimental S4, and found him ready to move back to our
new Command Post. I asked him to have Sevilla send someone to guide me to its location as I
was going to wait for the messengers to return.

After Leuterio had left with his officers, men, and supplies, I sat down, all by myself. The
shelling had died down considerably.
It was about 5:30 p.m. now and the shadows of the forest had started to lengthen. I burned my
books since I could not take them with me. Besides, I did not need them or my Training
Regulations Manuals any longer. From them I had learned the fundamentals of war but it was
from the hardships of experience that I had learned actual defensive combat.

After the excitement of the day had died down in me and the hot day had changed to the
relative cool of early evening, I felt tired. If this had not been wartime and we were not
withdrawing to the rear of the enemy artillery I would have enjoyed a nap. But now all I could
was think about it as I kept my ears open for shells that might come too close.

I wondered where Colonel MacDonald, Kramer, and Barrenengoa were. I wondered where
Sevilla had located a new Command Post for us. I did not know if Division Headquarters had
withdrawn so I called the up. They had.

As I waited for the messengers, and for Sevilla or some of his men, to arrive, I could hear the
tramping of feet on the Catmon Trail slowly dying. I wondered where the messengers were.

Did they fail to deliver the messages? Or did they deliver them and then get killed on their way
back? Salazar, I knew, had withdrawn to the Catmon Trail. But were Rillo and Magtoto and
their men still on the line?

If Colonel Cruz, as ordered, had attached Rillo's battalion to the 41st Infantry, then Rillo and his
men would not be on the line anymore. But Colonel Magtoto would be.

It was getting dark and still no messengers had come. The shelling had not stopped.

Suddenly, there was a burst of fire from our machine guns on our Regimental Reserve Line.
Enemy rifle and machine gun fire answered it. Our Regimental Reserve Line was in contact
now, I was sure.

If that was true, the men who were there probably would not be able to withdraw. If Rillo's
battalion had in fact joined Cruz's unit then only Magtoto's men would be on the line, fighting
by themselves.

The exchange of fire lengthened. The enemy, it seemed, had decided to fight into the night. I
decided not to wait any longer. Just then, Sevilla came running into the Command Post,
flushed and excited.

"Sir," he said in a hurry, "why are you still here?"

"I was waiting for the messengers I sent out, and for you or your men," I said.

"You're the only one around here now," he said. "Everybody has gone back and the RRL is in
contact."

"Where's Colonel Salazar?" I asked.

"He's organizing delaying positions on the Catmon Trail," Sevilla said. "His first position is near
the 43rd Infantry's CP."
The 43rd Infantry's Command Post was barely a kilometer away. No wonder Sevilla was
excited. It was about 6:00 p.m. now and dusk had started to gather in the forest, but the sky
remained bright with the last rays of the setting sun.

Sevilla and I started on our way. As we hit the Catmon Trail, a new burst of enemy machine
gun fire came to our ears. A man came limping up from the front. We took him with us. Once in
a while, we stopped to listen to the shells as they came down, ducking when they hit the trees
close to us.

"How goes it, Colonel?" I asked Colonel Salazar when we got to his first delaying position.

"I have three lines," he said. "I have two others behind this one.

"Let's hope the enemy does not attack tonight," I said.

"They can come for all I care. I'm ready for them," he said.

Sevilla and I proceeded to the 43rd Infantry's Command Post and found Colonels Lizardo and
MacDonald there, as well as Barrenengoa and the other officers of the 42nd Regimental staff.
We had just decided to move back to Trail 64 before it got dark when we heard a shell coming.
The 42nd and 43rd Infantry staffs ran for shelter under some big trees. Four loud explosions
came but no one was hit. Then another four shells burst among us. It caused only slight
physical damage but how it hurt our morale.

Sevilla, Barrenengoa, and I got our 42nd Infantry men together and posted them in three
additional delaying positions. The shelling seemed to be following us. I did not feel safe until
we got to the Division Quartermaster Camp which was well defiladed against enemy artillery
from the front. There, I found Colonel Chioco, our Division Quartermaster, who was busy with
his withdrawal.

"Everyone has left," he said. "We have a lot of stuff to move back. We'll probably work the
whole night. What has me worried is how to move back the rice that I had milled from the palay
(unthreshed rice) we gathered beyond the OPLR. We have about a hundred cavans still
stocked up. If no more trucks are sent up, I'll have to leave them here. It'll be such a waste."

Barrenengoa, Sevilla, and I moved on to Trail 64. About one kilometer back of the
Quartermaster Depot, we were hailed from the darkness by Colonels Lizardo and MacDonald.
They asked if we had anything to eat; I said no. Colonel MacDonald produced some canned
goods. We were hungry and tired and ached all over. We ate and decided to wait with them
until all our troops had come through.
So far, only the remnants of the lst Battalion had come, We had about two hundred men on the
Catmon Trail on delaying positions. The sick and the wounded who could not be expected to
fight were a few hundred yards behind us.
fro
Earlier, on the trail, I had met some Engineer officers, Lieutenant Frondoso reported that he
had a company ready to blast down trees to create tank obstacles after our men had all come
through.
It was dark now, the moon lighted the night. Colonels Lizardo and MacDonald, Kramer,
Barrenengoa, Sevilla, Leuterio, and myself stretched out on woolen blankets on the ground
under the trees and talked and chatted while we waited for sleep to come. Noticing some men
moving forward in column with their arms slung, I called to one of them and found out that they
belonged to the American 33rd Infantry.

"Are you moving forward?" I asked him.

"We've been ordered to, Sir," he said. "Are you from the 41st Division, Sir?"

"Yes," I said.
"It's no good, Sir," he said. "Your men are moving out and we're moving in. Like my
companions said, 'If the 41st Division couldn't stop the Japs, how can we?'”

"You'll be O.K.," I said.

About 10:30 p.m., I saw some American "noncoms" going by. Sergeant Kassel, one of the
instructors of Major Rillo's 2nd Battalion was among them. I inquired about how badly the men
were hurt.

"I don't really know, Sir," he said, "but I'm sure they took quite a beating. That Japanese
artillery was firing to beat the band. The trees that were on the lines were stripped of their
leaves and branches. A lot of the bamboo burned to a crisp. The men had to run like hell to the
rear. It was all the same on the MLR, BRL, and RRL. But some of the men were still on the line
when I left at about 8:30."

1 asked him if Rillo and his men had gotten out. He said they had; they joined Colonel Cruz's
41st Infantry. That told me Colonel Magtoto's men were the ones that were on the line as late
as 8:30 p.m. Maybe they were still there.
Magtoto must have never gotten the message I sent him, I thought. If his battalion was still on
the line, someone had to go and fetch them. They could not be sacrificed.

I thought about sending Sevilla or Barrenengoa but it did not seem sporting. I had learned
about it first and it was my job to see that all our units got out. I decided to go back myself. I
informed Colonel Lizardo then started out.

A soft breeze was blowing as I walked and the bright moon lighted my way. Suddenly, I heard a
whistle but paid no attention to it. There was another whistle. I kept on walking.

"Stop, goddamn it, or get blasted to bits!" someone yelled in the darkness.

I stopped walking then, just in time; just before a great tree fell across the trail about fifty yards
in front of me. Another whistle blew, then someone said, "O.K., you may move on now." From
out of the darkness someone ran out toward me.

"Goddammit!" he said angrily. "Don't you know what you're doing? Didn't you hear the
whistle?" Then, recognizing me, he apologized. It was one of the Engineer boys.

It was all right, I told him. He was doing his duty, I was not paying attention. I continued on my
way.

As I approached our Quartermaster Depot, I heard Colonel Lizardo calling. "I'll walk with you
up to the old Command Post," he said.

At the Quartermaster Depot, we saw boxes and bundles being loaded onto carabao carts
which were moving out. In the shadows, the men of the 33rd Infantry were moving around.
Passing the area where our men on delaying positions were posted, I called to them to see if
they were still around. They were well hidden in the bushes.

When we got to the third delaying position, Colonel Lizardo decided not to proceed to the old
Command Post but to send a squad to fetch some things he had left there. They walked part of
the way with me.

At Colonel Salazar's foremost line, I found the men there in readiness. Colonel Salazar
seemed to be asleep.

"Asleep, Sir?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm tired," he said.

“Aren't you afraid you might be surprised by the enemy?" I asked. I could not help admiring his
nerve. Beyond him was No Man's Land in which just a short while ago he had experienced
hell. Now, from the dark forest in front, the enemy could move in and surprise him. They also
could move down on the ridge to his left or from the other bank of' the Catmon River. But there
he was, relaxed, seemingly unworried.

I asked him if Magtoto's unit had passed through yet. He said they had not. The squad still with
me, I continued with my mission of reaching Magtoto to tell him to withdraw.

At the fork near the old Regimental Command Post, the squad, except for one man, left me to
conduct the business Colonel Lizardo sent them to do. With the one man, I continued on.

As we were about to cross a ridge, we heard the tramping of feet. I signaled for him to take
cover. We crept up to the crest from which we saw troops about a hundred and fifty yards
below us coming up the trail. We waited. I told the man he was to shoot only after I had shot
first.

Soon, the troops were just fifty yards away from us, moving noiselessly except for the tramping
of their feet. I stayed close to the ground. Could it be the enemy moving up? I could not tell.
Could it Magtoto's unit? I waited. Then, the troops were so close that we could hear them
speaking in whispers. To our relief, they were not speaking in Japanese. As they drew up, I
stopped the leading man.

"What unit is this?" I asked.

"3rd Battalion, 42nd Infantry, Sir."

It was Magtoto's unit.

“Is Colonel Magtoto here?" I called to the column.

"No, sir." It was Casanova who answered. He came up.

"Where's Colonel Magtoto?" I asked him.

"He's not here, sir," he said. He was not in his CP when we passed there. Neither was his staff,
so I assumed command. I have a strength of only about two and a half companies including
the Machine Gun Company here. We've lost many men. We had an encounter early in the
evening but the enemy has moved back. One of our MGs got burned because of the
incendiaries."

I told Casanova to proceed to Trail 64 then I retraced my way back to the old Regimental
Command Post. On the fork near there, the squad rejoined me, their mission accomplished.

I was glad that at last the 3rd Battalion had gotten through. But how about Magtoto? Could he
have been killed? Maybe he had joined Colonel Cruz's unit. What about his staff? My work was
not done.

I went back to Colonel Salazar and told him I would see about his unit being relieved, since the
33rd Infantry had had enough time to prepare their positions for the night. "Do that," he said, "I
want to sleep . "

I went to where Major Holmes, the regimental commander of the 33rd Infantry, had his
Command Post. Picking my way carefully past many forms on the ground, I found him under a
big tree. I told him about the advisability of my withdrawing my men from the Catmon Trail now
that his troops were ready.

"You can have them recalled then," he said. He sent his messenger to deliver the orders to the
front line.

I chatted with Holmes for a while until I saw his men moving back below us on the trail. Then I
wished Holmes luck and bade him good night. I never saw him again.

I caught up with Colonel Salazar and found the squad that had gone to the old Command Post
for Colonel Lizardo with him. I asked the squad leader if they had seen anything unusual at the
old Command Post. They found a pile of burned books and papers, he said; and two dead
men.

When Sevilla and I had left the Old Command Post to go to the new one, there were no dead
men there. I wondered who the dead men could be. Did two wounded soldiers crawl up to the
Command Post and die there? Could the dead men have been two of the messengers I sent
out?

Colonel Salazar, the squad, and I walked to the Artillery Command Post on Trail 6 in silence.
We looked for a place to lie down and sleep on. I picked a flat rock on the stream and soon
was asleep. Thus did 3 April, Good Friday 1942, end for me.
 PART SEVEN
RETREAT

CHAPTER 1
Getting ReOrganized

I awoke before dawn on 4 April 1942 and found some of the men already cooking in individual
canteen cups on the bank of the river. Their cooking fires dotted the gloom with a hundred
bright points as the blackness of the night changed to dark gray then into light. I sat up, rubbed
my eyes, and was about to get up when it occurred to me that the persons I wanted to see
today were probably still asleep. The murmur of the brook as it rushed onward was nice to
sleep to. I lay down and soon was asleep I again.

I slept until I was roused by a soldier who said Colonel Lizardo was looking for me. Following
him to where Colonel Lizardo's tent was, I noted that it was just three yards away from where I
had slept. In my extreme tiredness the night before, I had failed to notice it altogether. I
reported to Colonel Lizardo who was having coffee with Colonel MacDonald.

"Here, Atienza, have some coffee," he said, handing me a halffull canteen cup. After sleeping
on a cold rock, it felt really good to have some hot coffee.

I informed Colonels Lizardo and MacDonald about what had happened the night before. About
Casanova's having brought the 3rd Battalion in because Colonel Magtoto, it seemed, had
disappeared; about the two dead men at our Old Command Post; about my having had
Colonel Salazar relieved by the 33rd Infantry.

"We're going to have a busy day today," Colonel Lizardo said. "Better get our men together
and get them reorganized."

I was about to go when Colonel Fortier; Colonel Lewis, the 43rd Infantry's regimental adviser;
and Colonel Salgado, the commander of the 43rd Infantry, and his staff arrived. Colonel Fortier
outlined our work of reorganization and designated assembly areas for both the 42nd and 43rd
Infantry regiments.
After the conference, I ordered Leuterio, our regiment's S4, to get some breakfast cooked for
our men. To Barrenengoa and Sevilla, I gave orders to get the men to the vicinity of Trail
Junction 64and 6 where we were to reorganize our units.

On the trail, I found Casanova distributing some milk and canned pineapple juice to his men. I
told him to gather his battalion together and move under cover to our assembly area.

It was about 7:00 a.m. now and the sun was hot. I went to check with Leuterio about breakfast
knowing the men would be hungry.

Suddenly, enemy artillery burst on us. There were twelve shots on the first burst. The men ran
for shelter behind trees and rocks and on the reverse slope of the river bank. I sought shelter
on the slope toward the river.

Our artillery answered the enemy. The artillery duel lasted for a while creating a lot of noise,
dust and smoke, and felling branches off the trees. Some of the men got hurt; our Medical Aid
men attended to them.

The artillery contest caused much confusion and excitement among the men. As some of them
found some form of shelter and gathered behind it, others ran there, too. Before long, as many
as a hundred men would be crouching together under a tree, each thinking it was his own
personal cover. There was much pushing and jostling as the shells hit objects around them.
Then, some of the men would decide to go somewhere else and everyone would follow. The
men never stopped moving from one cover to another and therefore most of the time were
exposed. It was a wonder not more of them got hit.

The river bed became filled with men moving away from the target. As the men sought shelter
there, they managed to find some defilade from the artillery shelling, but they forgot about the
enemy planes. They were mercilessly reminded when six planes started to dive into the river.
As the men tried to get out, the planes dropped their bombs splitting the air and splintering
rocks and trees. When the planes were done many men lay dead.

From where I was, under a fallen tree on the slope toward the river, I watched everything
unfold. I saw the river turn green as trees got strewn all across it. Men lay here and there in the
river, thrust under the fallen trees. It made me sore and sad when a bomb fell right smack into
the bunch of canvas in which Leuterio was cooking breakfast for the regiment. The rice gruel
got scattered on the river.
Our Artillery as they had been ordered to stopped firing when the enemy planes came over.
Then it became a solo act by the enemy's artillery. After the planes left, I slid down into the
river. Then following the river I tried to get to the intersection of Trail Junction 64 and 6. I met
Captain Castillo of the 43rd Infantry along way.

"Have you gathered your men?" I asked. This was their assembly area; he was the regiment's
S3.

"Not yet, Sir," he said. "We were getting together when the planes came over. We lost quite a
number of men." He pointed to the corpses in the river.

This shelling by the enemy actually was not something that was happening anew. The enemy
had never stopped shelling. Today, they were pouring lead into the 21st Division sector as fast
and furiously as yesterday they had done on ours.

Going up the slope on the bend of the river, I found some men from our regiment walking
toward Trail 6. I walked with them. Near the intersection, I met Major Ojeda.

"What next, Doni?" I asked him.

I must have appeared excited, for he asked, smiling, "Why are you so excited, Bert?"

"Am I?” I said. "Well, maybe it's because I saw our breakfast get hit by a bomb. Now the men
will have to go without breakfast."

"Here, take these," he said, handing me a can of condensed milk and a can of corned beef
hash. "You need them."
"Yes, but what about you?" I asked; then remembering, I said, "Oh, yes, you people at Division
Headquarters have a lot of food."

"Not now," Ojeda said, "but I can spare these. Because we had no trucks, we had to leave a lot
of food and cigarettes behind when we got our orders to withdraw. We also had to leave in a
hurry. The CP was shelled directly just as I was leaving."
"What's the next move?" I asked.

"You're to reorganize. The old man's at General Capinpin's 21st Division CP right now. I'm to
report to him when we have reorganized so we can plan where to put our line up."

At Trail Junction 64 and 6, 1 found Colonel Lizardo and some of our men. We looked for a part
of the stream where the banks were steep and high so we would be protected as we
assembled. While the battalion commanders were getting their units together, Colonel Lizardo
and I sat down behind a rock and waited. We had two messengers with us, sitting behind a
tree across the stream from us. They were to deliver messages and orders from us to our
troops as this became necessary to do.

Suddenly, as though the enemy knew our every move, we were shelled again. Three shells fell
on the stream quite close to us. When the shelling stopped, I got up to see how our men were.
They had scattered all over the place as before and had taken shelter as best they could.
Casanova's men, and the men of the 1st Battalion that Barrenengoa was trying to reassemble,
were all over the place again.

When I rejoined Colonel Lizardo, I found the two messengers who had waited with us sprawled
dead on the ground. The rock Colonel Lizardo and I had sat behind for shelter was chipped in
a hundred pieces by the flying bomb fragments. I thanked God we were still alive.

Colonel Lizardo and I moved out. We noted that while our men were assembling once again,
their faces now showed wild, furtive glances and they seemed to be obeying orders by instinct.
Yet we reminded ourselves that the important thing was that the men could still be ordered to
act.

At about 10:00 a.m., we were shelled again on the trail. Again, the men took cover wherever
they could. I lay down on my stomach behind a tree trunk.
During a lull, I got up and found myself with some of our Division Headquarters troops. I called
to Doctor Alberto. He said they, too, had been ordered to go along Trail 6. I saw Captain
Chong, our Division Signal Officer. His orders were to establish a Message Center on Trail 6.

Then Colonel Salazar, the commander of our 1st Battalion, came limping up. He was bloodied.

"You got hit, Colonel," I said solicitously, noticing that his thigh had been ripped several inches
and his left side had an ugly wound.

"Yes," he acknowledged, smiling, "two minor wounds. I'm looking for a doctor to give me first
aid."

"Wait here," I said, and got Doctor Alberto to come over. He found the colonel's wounds which
were bleeding profusely too extensive for first aid.
"We'll have to have these stitched up," he said. "I'll bandage them, Colonel, then, we'd better
get you to a hospital quickly."

We waited for a car and had Colonel Salazar taken to the hospital. I never saw Colonel
Salazar in Bataan again.

I went back to the assembly area where our work of reorganizing was going on. I wished the
shelling would stop if only for an hour so we could finish our job.

I walked among the men and tried to be cheerful. Casanova was moving among his men, too,
being his usual energetic and enthusiastic self although many of his platoons consisted of just
a squad or so now

Suddenly, hell broke loose again. Planes bombed then strafed us. Once again, the men
scurried all over the place, but this time leaving the stream bed plainly empty.

Like numerous sheep scared by some big animal, they huddled together under the trees. They
cowered and pressed close together as if contact with another body could give them new
strength, new courage; as if by doing so they could warm their chilled nerves.

Then came the groaning of the wounded awaiting help. But while the planes were
maneuvering, diving, strafing, and leveling off, the rest of the men, including the Medical Aid
men, had to remain under shelter. Those who were but slightly wounded crawled or crept to
shelter by themselves. The more seriously wounded had no recourse but to wait. Sadly, I had
to acknowledge that we were now no longer a team working together. As each man became
the target of the enemy's bombs and bullets, it was now every man to himself.

Finally, the planes left. I felt disgusted, disappointed, and discouraged. Disgusted that we could
not finish our work of reorganizing without interruption; disappointed that enemy planes and
artillery that looked and sounded to us like tin toys should be allowed to deal out death;
discouraged that we could not fight back. In spite of all the odds, however, we persisted in
believing that if the enemy infantry came now, we could fight them and beat them again.

The roar of planes started to be heard again. When no planes came, we picked up from where
we had left off and resumed reorganizing. A messenger from our G3 came looking for me. He
had the orders for our regiment.

Our orders were to move back some more along Trail 6; Major Ojeda was to guide us to our
assembly area. The orders were a relief to me. Perhaps now we could get to a place beyond
the enemy's artillery and finally get our reorganizing done. I ordered our commanders to move
up along Trail 6. Colonel Lizardo and I walked ahead along Trail 6, and came upon Colonel
Salgado of the 43rd Infantry who was having a lunch of raisins. We had a couple of mouthfuls
of his raisins, drank a lot of water, then moved on. After walking about two kilometers, we
caught up with Colonel Domaoal. We all sat down and rested, then walked together from there.

Colonel Domaoal said that the 41st Division was to assemble at Trail Junction 6 and 8 beyond
the range of enemy artillery. He figured we had about three days to reorganize before the
enemy artillery could be moved up.
"That's assuming the 33rd Infantry and the 21st Division can hold," I said. "What if they don't?"

"That's a good question," he said. "The 33rd Infantry and our Engineers are the only ones left
on the Catmon Trail. Let's hope they can hold. The 21st Division is being battered right now.
Tanks have been moving east on the PilarBagac Road. The men of the 21st are having a hard
time holding their lines. But the enemy has not advanced along the Catmon Trail."

I asked Colonel Domaoal where General Lim was. He said the general had gone ahead to the
assembly area with Colonel Fortier.

Colonel Lizardo, Salgado, and I continued to move on. It was hot and dusty. The lush growth of
trees and vines which completely covered the road in many places offered some relief. We had
left the shelling behind but we could imagine what punishment it was dealing the 21st Division.

Soon, we found ourselves in an open space that was quite elevated. Off in the distance, we
could see Manila Bay; blue, calm, and serene. The cool breeze that blew on our face was a
real consolation.

At about 4:00 p.m., we came upon Ojeda who was sitting on a rock, eating rice gruel and
condensed milk. We sat down and ate with him.

"Hey, Bert," he said, jokingly, "I gave you some food. Don't eat too much now."

His remark made me remember that in all the confusion, I had lost the milk he had given me. I
searched for the corned beef hash and discovered I had lost that, too.

"We'll have a bit of time to give the men's nerves a rest," Ojeda said. "Then we'll either put up a
defensive position here or go back to Samat depending on how the enemy attacks. If the 33rd
Infantry and 2st Division are not pushed back today, we'll probably be able to go back.
Otherwise, we'll put up a defensive position here."

Ojeda took us to our assembly area. We found the Service Company busily clearing places
there for our staff to lie down on. Leuterio had fsound a good place in a ravine. I told him to
draw rations right away so the men could eat as soon as soon as they arrived.
After a while, I went on Trail 6 to see if our men were coming in. Barrenengoa and Sevilla were
there waiting. Barrenengoa had determined the area for each battalion and he and Sevilla
were waiting to guide the men.

Later in the afternoon, the men streamed in. They were a sorry-looking, sweating, tired,
haggard lot. They came dragging their feet.

Returning to our assembly area, I joined Colonels Lizardo and MacDonald who were having
their places fixed for the night. They had changed clothes and looked comfortable. As the three
of us were tired and everyone seemed engrossed in his own thoughts, we did not talk to one
another. I waited for Barrenengoa and Sevilla to come to tell me that the men had been
distributed. Then, being very tired, I went to sleep.

The next morning, 5 April, the sun was way up in the sky when I awoke from a very refreshing
sleep. The rest of our staff who also had just gotten up looked rested. Leuterio sent us some
rice gruel for breakfast.

I instructed Barrenengoa and Sevilla to check on our two battalions, then I went down the trail
where I found more men coming in. Some of them were from the 33rd Infantry; many were
from the 21st Division. Some men from the 21st Division told of the terrible beating they had to
take the day before.

I proceeded to Trail 8 and found our Division Message Center and Quartermaster Depot. I also
found Major Ojeda who said he was just leaving to see me.

"Why?" I asked.

"To show you the general line to be defended," he said. "We will definitely put up a defense
here."
Ojeda brought out the map on which he had traced the Main Line of Resistance for our
Division. He said my regiment, the 42nd Infantry, was to put up a defensive position generally
on a ridge to cover Trail 8. The 43rd Infantry to the right of us would cover Trail 6.

"If the enemy pushes hard enough, they'll ultimately come to these two trails," he explained.
"We'll stop them here."

I went back to our assembly area and reported my conversation with Ojeda to Colonel Lizardo.
Then I went to sleep. It must have been about 3:00 p.m. when I awoke feeling hungry. I bathed
in the stream, shaved, then went to see Leuterio.

"Canned peaches!" I said when I saw them. "Where did you get those?" I wondered, as I knew
that as early as the middle of February we had stopped receiving peaches.

"Why ask questions?" he said cheerfully. "You know me. I've had these since Abucay. I've been
keeping them for good friends."

I asked him if we had received rations for the men. He said yes. He also said the men had had
breakfast and lunch.

After talking to Leuterio, I wandered among the men to find out about state of their morale. I
found many of them sleeping or just lying down, resting. Some were chatting. Quite a few were
laughing boisterously. Some were singing. As a group, they were looking rested and fairly
composed, I thought.

I talked to some of them, saying pleasant things. I asked how they were, if they had eaten and
were satisfied, if they had recovered from their walk, if they would fight some more. They gave
encouraging replies. They were rested they said; had been satisfied for the first time in three
days; and yes, they would fight.

"If those Japanese infantrymen had come, we would have licked them, Sir," some of them
said. But they hadn't, and we had no one to fight.

Others among the men were less enthusiastic.

"We're willing to fight, Sir," these men said, "but as long as we do not have planes, we'll just
have to withdraw again. The enemy planes don't do very much harm but they help their artillery
to observe the fire, and their artillery is powerful. But, Sir," they added quickly, "if we're ordered
to fight, we'll fight. We're not cowards."

I went to see the sick and the wounded and tried to cheer them up. As I sat down and chatted
with them in an effort to comfort them, I found them to be like little children hanging eagerly on
to my every word. I felt sad and sorry for them. From Tagaytay to Batangas and then Abucay,
these young men had been energetic and enthusiastic. Now they were battling disease even
more than they were the Japanese; and they were losing.

I shifted my attention back to the men who could fight. Having found them apparently rested,
rather contented, and eager to redeem their pride, I felt some contentment, too. There was no
reason to doubt that they would fight again. But if the enemy should succeed in amassing as
much artillery on our small sector as they did on Mt. Samat, I could not envision the troops that
could stand it.

I had learned from Major Campo, our Division G2 that by the afternoon of 3 April, our G2 unit
had counted at least nineteen batteries firing at us. Rounding that up to twenty batteries, that
meant a hundred guns were firing on a sector that was about 1,500 yards wide; one hundred
guns firing away at will with nothing to stop or harass them, except for our Artillery which could
fire only when enemy planes were not around.

It was about 4:30 p.m. now. On my way back to the Regimental Command Post, I heard a lot
of firing in the distance. The 33rd Infantry, I was sure, had come to grips with the enemy. I
doubted that we would have enough time to organize our new position now.

That evening, my orderly woke me up with a message from Colonel Domaoal. Colonel
Domaoal was calling the Division's regimental commanders to a conference. I roused Colonels
Lizardo and MacDonald, then the three of us went down to Division Headquarters which was
located in a ravine on Trail 8. Walking in the dark, we took care not to step on the sleeping men
nor to sprain our ankles on the loose rocks.

At Division Headquarters, we found General Lim, Colonels Fortier and Domaoal, and Majors
Campo and Ojeda gathered around a lamp, talking. Colonels Salgado and Lewis arrived about
the same time we did. General Lim's face was serious, so vastly different from the jovial,
beaming face we were accustomed to. His gaze was intent.

The telephone rang. General Lim answered it. It was General Lough. From General Lim's
answers, we gathered orders were being given for him to send men on Trail 6 to defend
something, probably the Artillery. He hung up, then addressed us.

"This afternoon," he said, "our Artillery was attacked by the enemy. With our remaining men,
we will defend the Artillery tomorrow." He paused and looked at us.

"Are your men fit to fight?" he asked Salgado of the 43rd Infantry. "No, sir," Salgado replied.

“Why?"
"They haven't recovered yet."

General Lim puffed on his cigar.

"Atienza, how about your men?"

"They'll fight, Sir," I said of the men of the 42nd Infantry.

"How do you know?"

"I was with them this afternoon, Sir," I said.

General Lim stopped again, deep in thought, then he continued. "I know that many of our men
have lost their arms, or have arms which are damaged. Salgado, how many men do you have
that you can properly arm?"

"About two hundred, Sir,"

"How about you, Atienza?"

"About a hundred and thirty, Sir."

"Why so few?"

"We've lost a lot of men, Sir,” I said, and Rillo's battalion has been detached. Our strength
report today showed only three hundred and eightynine men, two hundred and fifty of whom
are sick."

"About three hundred men is what we have then," he said. "They'll do. They'll defend the
Artillery in the morning.” Having made that announcement, he left.

Ojeda, Salgado, and I planned the attack for the morning. The 43rd Infantry men were to take
the lead while the 42nd Infantry men were to follow. We were working out our plans when we
heard a commotion caused by the arrival of Major Arellano; Colonel Villaluz, the Chief of Staff
of the 21st Division; Colonel Oboza; and Captain Tinio.

"Why, Arellano?"Colonel Domaoal asked.

"We had to abandon the Artillery and withdraw our men, Sir," Arellano said. "The enemy was
too strong. They captured the 21st Division CP, then attacked us in the night."

"We were pushed out," Colonel Villaluz added. "We had to pass through the enemy line in the
dark and were fired at by the enemy. They hit and killed our driver. We left the car and walked."

General Lim came out of his tent to ask about General Capinpin, the commanding general of
the 21st Division.

"He would not leave the CP even when the enemy infantry was shooting into it," Villaluz said.
"Was he captured?" General Lim asked.

Villaluz did not know.

I asked Tinio, the commander of the 41st Engineers, what had happened to his battalion which
we knew had been on the Catmon Trail with the 33rd Infantry. He told of how, ready for action,
his men were attacked from the peak trail of Mt. Samat after the Japanese infantry troops
attacked the 33rd Infantry.

The attack on the Engineer's Company "A" under Captain Deacosta was very sudden, Tinio
said. There was very little firing before the enemy attacked with bayonets. Deacosta was
wounded.

Company "B" under Captain Alcasabas was attacked simultaneously from Trail 64. The men of
that unit had thought the troops coming up were 33rd Infantry men until they heard them
speaking Japanese. They had fired then and were subjected to enemy mortar and grenade
firing. After a while, they were rushed by the enemy from the ravine to their left and Alcasabas
had to withdraw. Subsequently, Tinio had to order the entire battalion to withdraw.

"Where's Deacosta?" I asked.

"I don't know what happened to Company A," Tinio said. "But one of their men caught up with
us. He said the company was massacred.”
General Lim listened to the withdrawing officers' accounts, then gathered his regimental
officers again to revoke his original orders.

Instead of defending the Artillery, we were now to retake it. If by the time we were on our way
the enemy should have already proceeded along Trail 6, we were to organize delaying
positions on it.

Colonel Salgado suggested that we be provided with some tanks in case the enemy had tanks.
Even if our tanks did not actually fight, they would raise the spirit of our men, he said.

Colonel Fortier called up Corps Headquarters and asked for tanks. He was promised one
3inch antitank gun with a selfpropelled mount.

As we were moving out, General Lim asked me if I was bringing up the rear the following
morning. I told him I was.

"I want you to keep me informed of what's happening at all times," he said. "You have a difficult
job to do. Do the best you can. "

Shortly before 2:00 a.m. on 6 April, I arrived at the 42nd Infantry's Regimental Command Post
and sent for the regiment's battalion commanders. As a group that included Colonels Lizardo
and MacDonald, Barrenengoa, Sevilla, Leuterio, and Casanova, and myself, we discussed the
dawn's work and planned our attack hoping we would not be surprised by the enemy before
we even moved out.

We estimated that we had about 180 pieces of arms, four machine guns, and enough
automatic rifles. We would use 110 to 150 men. The sick men who were not going out were to
stay in the camp under a medical officer.

At 2:45 a.m., after synchronizing our watches, we disbanded.

At 4:30 a.m. I called Colonel Salgado. His troops had started to leave. I had assigned
Barrenengoa and Sevilla to the 1st and 3rd Battalions, respectively. They had already left. I
proceeded to Trail 6.

At 5:10 a.m., the head of our lst Battalion column was on its way. I went ahead of Colonels
Lizardo and MacDonald to the Trail Junction which was only about eighty yards from our
Command Post and watched the men as they filed past me in the semidarkness. The sun had
just started to lighten the skies to the east and I could see their faces but indistinctly. I could
not tell whether they were enthusiastic or discouraged. But there was no straggling as they
moved and I was not disheartened. I wagered they probably were anxious to redeem the good
reputation that they had earned in Abucay.

At about 5:40 a.m., the tail of the column passed the Trail Junction. There was light now; the
sun had topped the distant hills. Colonels Lizardo and MacDonald had joined me. The three of
us followed behind the column. The 3inch antitank gun with the selfpropelled mount that Corps
Headquarters had sent us followed behind as well.

I wanted to know how far ahead the 43rd Infantry was so I caught up with the column then sent
a messenger forward to find out. The tail of the 43rd Infantry was about 300 yards in front of
our column's head.

Colonel Salgado and I talked about the possibilities of the day. We were sure we would have a
great deal of work to do for the enemy surely knew by now that there no longer were any
USAFFE troops in the vicinity of the Artillery, or in the 21st Division sector. We figured the
enemy probably was moving up along Trail 6 by now.

I walked about two kilometers farther, and found our men resting. I went up to the head of our
column and saw that the men of the 43rd Infantry were resting, too. I went to see Colonel
Salgado and his staff.

When we received the report that all was clear for two kilometers ahead, the 43rd Infantry
started out again. Our column followed. It was about 7:30 a.m. now. After going another
kilometer and a half, the column stopped again.

Taking Barrenengoa with me, I proceeded to where Colonel Salgado was to find out why. We
found two trucks loaded with men some of whom were wounded.

Captain Jones, the instructor of the Artillery Regiment, explained that with a platoon he had
gone back to the Artillery before dawn wanting to retake it. The enemy had fired at them about
one kilometer south of the Artillery position. They exchanged shots, but overpowered they had
to come back. He said the enemy was coming up. He suggested for us to wait right where we
were.

Salgado and I discussed the matter and decided to organize delaying positions where we
were. Then I returned to the 42nd Infantry Command Post where Sevilla, the battalion
commanders, and I planned our actions. We decided to put up four delaying positions to be
manned by a platoon. I called Division Headquarters and reported what we had decided to do.
Then we waited for developments at Colonel Salgado's Command Post.

After a while, I went ahead to our foremost line and found our men in readiness. They had set
up their machine gun and taken positions behind trees and rocks on both sides of the trail.
Lieutenant Valeriano was in command.

Trail 6, where we were organizing our lines, was twelve feet wide and was on the side of a hill.
To the left, the hill rose, wooded and thick with underbrush. To the right was a wooded ravine
that went about sixty feet down. Alongside the trail, we posted our men, some facing the trail,
some facing the ravine, others ready to shoot upward toward the hillside.

"Hello, Doring," I called to Lieutenant Valeriano.

"Yes, Sir," he smiled, acknowledging my greeting.

"Will your men fight?" I asked, fully aware that on 3 April, they had also been the first line on
the Catmon Trail.

"They'll fight, Sir," he said. "Look at them." His men were always eager for the fray.

"You'll have a while to wait as the 43rd Infantry has five lines in front of you," I said. "If you're
committed by the withdrawal of the line immediately in front of you, be sure you don't hit the
withdrawing 43rd Infantry men. If you withdraw, clear the road so you do not obstruct the line
behind you."

"Yes, Sir," he answered, then went to his men to remind them about how to withdraw.

I went down to our other delaying lines to observe the men and to give the same instructions.
The men seemed to be all right.

At Casanova's line, which was the last line, there were about fifty men. Casanova said he had
picked the bravest of his men for this line as it was the main event, as in a boxing card.
Working with him were Lieutenants Malantic and Balagtas, two courageous officers whose
combat records were remarkable.

Satisfied that our men had been properly disposed along the trail, I went back to our Command
Post and reported the matter to Colonel Lizardo.

CHAPTER 2

Stampede at Trail 6

About noon of 6 April, we heard firing on our front. The 43rd Infantry, we knew, had met the
enemy. I went ahead to the first line of our 42nd Infantry, and reminded Lieutenant Valeriano to
keep his men cool. They had good positions, I said, but it could be a bloody fight. I told him I
was depending on him to stop the enemy long enough for me to send more men in, if this
became necessary. He said he would do his best.

His men did not seem to be excited about the firing. Some of them continued to smoke. Some
just sat leisurely around. One or two did grip their rifles. I walked along the men and talked to
them. They said they would stick it out unless artillery was used on them.

"Don't worry about that," I told them. "The enemy cannot bring their artillery in just yet."

I proceeded to the next lines and exhorted the men there similarly, feeling confident that
Valeriano's men would fight even if only long enough to allow our next position to be prepared.

I called Ojeda to tell him that the 43rd was already in contact, then went back to Colonel
Lizardo to apprise him of the situation. All of a sudden, we heard the tramping of running feet
from the front. The 43rd was withdrawing in confusion, I thought.

Calling to Barrenengoa to follow me, I ran toward our foremost line to make sure our men did
not run, too. Just beyond our third line, I ran into the 43rd Infantry men who were running back.
I sought out an officer and found Lieutenant Powers. In Samat, Powers had been reliably
courageous. I asked him why the men were running back.

“Sir,” he said excitedly, repeating what the 41st Artillery and the 41st Engineers earlier had said,
"the enemy has a very strong force. They used mortars on us. They attacked from the ridge,
the trail, and the ravine. The men just can't fight anymore."

I met other 43rd Infantry Officers. Captain Castillo, who in Samat had been awarded a
decoration, was also moving back. He told the same story. As he was in charge of operations
for the 43rd Infantry, I suggested that he gather his men who were now running or walking as
fast as they could to the rear, and to reorganize more lines behind the lines of the 42nd Infantry
so as to delay the enemy's move. He said he would and rallied his men together.

I walked on. All of the men of the 43rd Infantry were running now, glancing back excitedly as
they did so. They filled the trail, each wanting to get away before the others.

I went to see Valeriano so he would not feel all alone.

"Are you ready for the enemy, Doring?" I asked.

"We are, Sir," he said.

To Valeriano's machine gunner, in a voice loud enough for the others on their line to hear, I
said, "Are we going to run back, too?"

"No, Sir," he shouted back, smiling, patting his machine gun stoutly.

I reminded the men who had said they would fight if artillery was not used on them that the
enemy was not using artillery and therefore I was counting on them to fight. They grinned in
response.
"O.K., Doring," I said finally, "you know I'm depending on you. I'll be on the next line. Let us
know if you have to withdraw."

I moved back to our second position and stayed there keeping my telephone handy. The 43rd
Infantry men that Castillo had rallied attached themselves to our lines. I hoped they would try
to redeem themselves.

Soon, we heard the machine gun on Valeriano's line going. The enemy answered with rifle fire
and grenades. There was a steady exchange of fire for about fifteen minutes. I called Ojeda
and told him that our first line was in contact and that the 43rd was reorganizing behind our
lines. Then I reminded the men on our second line to remain steady.

A messenger from Colonel Lizardo came saying the Colonel wanted to see me. I hastened to
report to him.

Before reaching the bridge in front of Casanova's line,, which was our fourth and final line, I
heard the sound of running feet coming from the front. Hell, I thought, our first line has
withdrawn too soon.

I turned and looked back. I was wrong. There about fifty yards away from me were the men of
our first, second, and third lines. About a hundred of them!

Only a few minutes ago when I had left them, they had seemed ready and willing to fight. Now,
what I saw was a horde of wildeyed men scared to paleness, who were throwing down their
arms and pushing one another to get ahead.

I positioned myself in the center of the trail; raised my arms; and at the top of my voice shouted
for them to halt. The leading men stopped, but only for a split second. The men behind them
pushed on and soon the stampede was on again.

I saw that it was useless to try to stop them. I stepped aside, sought a tree, and hung on to it.
The men ran past me without looking right or left. Their eyes did not seem to see. Like wild
animals scared by the hunter's shot, they were running away as fast as they could, as far away
as possible from the danger of death, and woe to anyone or anything that was in their way.

After the first surge had passed, I noticed Valeriano walking back, his eyes down, his helmet in
his hands.

"Doring," I called. He looked at me and came up

" I don't know how it happened, Sir," he said. "The men were steady for a while. We fired as
the enemy about a squad of them turned on to the trail. We wiped that squad out. As more of
them came, we kept on firing. Then the enemy started firing with MGs from the ridge and the
ravine. Still the men stayed good and steady. Then grenades and mortar shells fell on us. Sir, I
think the enemy was using mountain guns. When the shells started falling, the men lost their
nerve and ran back. All I know was that soon the other men were running back, too. I'm sorry,
Sir." As kindly as I could, I told him to join Casanova.

The enemy, at this point, generally still were firing from a distance but their troops, we could
tell, were drawing ever nearer. There was nothing to stop them now.

I walked on disheartened and went to Casanova's line. Casanova met me. I asked him if his
men were on the line. He said they were.

"Hold them there," I told him. "We'll put up a last stand here. We have to hold the enemy until
Division Headquarters can withdraw."

I went over to one side of the trail and sat down. What was the use, I thought. Between the
42nd and 43rd Infantry, we had about three hundred men. Most of them had run back. Was
this the 41st Division? Were these the men who fought so valiantly and well in Abucay? They
were not cowards. They proved that in Samat as well. But they had run back, away from the
fighting. Why?

Then I remembered that the men had said they would stick it out unless artillery was used on
them. There was my answer. Here was a case of mass shellshock. Under rifle fire, machine
gun fire, and grenades, the men had remained steady. But the sound of mortars - so similar to
artillery fire was too much for them.

We had a group of men, already suffering from shellshock individually. All bunched together,
they had reacted in the same frantic way to the stimulus of the shell sounds. And in one bound,
they acted like scared wild animals; they who comprised the majority of the only men fit to
fight.

I was sure they would fight again; but not now, not in the immediate future. They needed rest.
They needed medical care. They would have to be relieved. Other men would have to do the
fighting now. Things would never be the same.
"Sir, why are you crying?" I was startled out of my thoughts by someone's voice. Crying, he
said. Was I crying? My eyes were wet. Yes, I was crying.

"Oh, I'm tired," I said.

He produced some toffee which he knew I liked. "Better have some of these and forget about
the mess," he said.

I took the toffee and ate it automatically. Then I recognized Lieutenant Palileo of the Engineer
Battalion.

"Where's your unit?" I asked.

"At the junction of Trail 6 and Trail 44," he said. "We're holding a defensive line there to stop
the enemy on Trail 44."

And so, we of the 42nd Infantry Regiment of the 41st Division, waited for further developments.
About noon, I was talking to Ojeda on the telephone and was about to tell him that we were
trying to reorganize our lines when out of the clear sky, nine planes came and dove to our rear.
They're bombing Division Headquarters, I thought.

Our telephones went dead. Explosions loud and shattering rent the air. The trees around us
shook and shuddered. We waited for more bombing, more explosions. But for the time being,
no more came.

I called Ojeda again. When I got connected with Division Headquarters, I heard a conversation
going on and recognized General Lim's voice. He was saying, "Don't worry, General, we have
delaying positions on Trail 6." 1 decided I could not wait.

"Sorry to cut in, General," I said.

"Who's this?" he asked.

I identified myself and told him that all the delaying positions on Trail 6 were gone. I explained
what had happened and said I was putting up one last line to try to hold the enemy.

"Hold that line until you get orders from me," he commanded.

I went over to where Casanova was. We walked down the line together. The men on
Casanova's line were familiar to me. They had been very courageous in Abucay and Samat. At
this point in the fighting they still looked tough. I hoped they would hold, at least, till orders from
General Lim came.

Casanova, Malantic, Balagtas, and myself were taking charge of the line. Lieutenant Ibanez
from the Engineers, who earlier in the day had asked to be allowed to join us as we put up a
fight, was there, too. He had a squad with him. Altogether, we had thirtyfive men and six
officers on the line. We were ready.

Presently we heard automatic rifle fire from the ravine that was to our right about two hundred
yards ahead. Then we heard rifle fire on the trail, a lot more of it.

As the firing drew nearer, I geared myself for battle. I cocked my steel helmet forward, cocked
my pistol, felt for my first aid pocket. The men went down on their bellies behind rocks and
trees. The other officers moved to where the men assigned to them were, and likewise
crouched and waited. Then we heard firing from the ridge to our left. Here's where we start
fighting, I thought.

My telephone rang. It was Ojeda calling to tell us that Division Headquarters had received
orders for the 41st Division to withdraw.

The orders for my regiment were to move back on Trail 6 and to stay on the line we were
holding until relieved by a company of the 57th Infantry of the Philippine Scouts that was
coming up.

The firing we were hearing especially from the ravine kept coming nearer. We could tell the
enemy was just ahead of us now. Mortar shells falling on the hillside across the bridge caused
small rocks to fall on the trail. The men, though visibly alarmed, stayed in their places.

"Steady," I told them, "Steady. Hold your fire." They paid attention.

Ibanez came up to me. "Sir, the enemy advancing in the ravine might encircle us," he said. "If
you'll allow me, I'll take my squad down into the ravine and intercept them."

It was a good idea and my admiration of Ibanez's courage went up several points. I asked him
if he was sure he wanted to do that. He assured me he did.

The machine gun firing in the ravine became steady but it did not advance. As we waited, no
enemy appeared on the trail or the ridge. Stand by until I tell you to go," I told Ibanez.

We waited. Why didn't the enemy troops come now if they wanted to fight, impatiently I
thought, instead of scaring us with a lot of firing? For it moment, very briefly, I allowed myself to
think of firecrackers. But I knew Valeriano and his men had actually killed enemy soldiers on
the trail, and we were far too close to the enemy to indulge in such a silly thought.

The rifle shots on the trail continued to come nearer. They were mingled with grenade
explosions now.

"Steady," I told myself.

"Steady," I cautioned the men.

I had Ibanez send a man back on the trail to see if any friendly troops other than the Engineers
were coming.

"Steady," once more I said to the rest of the men.

The men pinned their eyes on the trail, the ridge, and the ravine, whichever of the three
happened to be their sector of fire; and we waited. But while the firing kept drawing nearer, still
no enemy soldiers appeared. Mortar shells, however, were falling into the stream bed now,
very close to us. I wished we had splinterproof to protect us.

The sun was hot. In the distant trees, a bird cooed clearly. Ibanez came up to me saying,
"Shall I go down the ravine now, Sir?"

"Not yet," I said. "We'll wait for your messenger.”

Soon the messenger came back and crawled up to me.

"There are Philippine Scouts on the trail, Sir," he reported. "They said they are to defend the
Trail Junction."

That told me the troops we were expecting to relieve us had arrived.

"They are in position on the trail facing the ravine," the messenger added. "They also have an
MG pointed toward us."

"Did you tell them we're here?" I asked.

"Yes, Sir. I talked to the American lieutenant," the messenger said. "He said we better be
careful when we withdraw."
That indicated to me that the officer thought our orders were to stay and withdraw under
pressure instead of after being relieved by him and his men. I told Casanova to take charge of
the line we were holding while I went to straighten things out. And I told lbanez there would be
no need for him to go into the ravine now.

After straightening things out with the American lieutenant, I sent the messenger back to
Casanova with the order to withdraw our men. Then I went up to the Scouts' machine gunner
and told him that the men would be withdrawing up the trail; he was to hold his fire. I stayed
with him so I could identify them.

The enemy's firing was extremely close now. Some bullets that hit the trail threw up puffs of
dust on the trail bend just sixty yards away from us. Mortar shells falling on our side of the
stream were hitting the trees on the hillside causing leaves and small rocks to fall on us.

Soon, I saw the men coming. "Steady," I cautioned the machine gunner.

When the men came up to the machine gun, their drawn faces lightened. I drew a deep breath.
We had been spared. I assembled the men, checked them, and marched them back to Trail
Junction 44 and 6 where I had Casanova move ahead with them.

CHAPTER 3

Moving Out

With the entire 41st Division preparing to withdraw, I went to the 42nd Infantry's Command
Post to gather my things. Then, taking my orderly along, I proceeded to our 3rd Battalion's
bivouac area to make sure everyone there had gotten the orders to withdraw.

On my way, I heard firing by the Philippine Scouts soldiers who were on Trail 6 about a
kilometer away, and I heard the enemy's answering fire. On the ridge to my right, enemy small
arms and mortar fire kept going.

When I got to the 3rd Battalion's bivouac area, I found the place empty. Leuterio's Command
Post was likewise deserted. At the 1st Battalion area, I found six sick men. I told them to come
with me.

We followed the ravine and saw where the bombs the enemy had dropped at noon had fallen.
There were at least four places that were badly hit. I wondered about casualties.

At Division Headquarters, we found abandoned boxes of sugar, ham, beans, and cigarettes.
The place, it was clear, had been evacuated in a hurry.

Back on Trail 6, we came upon troops moving south. Men from the 33rd Infantry, the 21st
Division, our 41st Division they were all moving back. Only the Philippine Scouts were moving
forward.

Everywhere, as the men and I walked, we passed unavoidable sights such as an abandoned
truck that had fallen into a bomb crater; and corpses, such as a corpse's head that got split into
halves, the face cut in such a way that its profile lay on the ground like a cameo amidst blood
and brains. Whenever we got to a clearing we hurried so enemy aircraft would not spot and
strafe us.

Continuing our walk, we came upon Colonel Magtoto.

"Mag, what happened?" I asked. “We thought you were captured on 3 April."

"I joined Cruz's outfit that night,”he said, "and rejoined the Division only this afternoon."

Magtoto joined me; we kept on walking. There no longer was any organization now. Men and
officers moved back individually, the sick with the able.

Late in the afternoon, Magtoto and I caught up with Colonel Lizardo, Sevilla, and some of our
regimental staff. Later, we came upon Colonel Salgado and his staff who were walking, too.
We made plans to organize our units.

Suddenly, planes came flying over us, diving and strafing at something about a hundred yards
ahead. We ducked into the bamboo clumps around us. I found myself with some Division
Headquarters troops, by the side of Lieutenants Tan and Lara.

“Remember how the three of us were all together also when our Division CP in Samat was
bombed?" I asked Tan.

"Yes," he said, "let's hope we're as lucky this time."

We stayed down as the enemy planes were not done with their business. One came back and
dropped bombs which caused the bamboo to the right of the trail to burn. Other planes
returned to do more diving and strafing, coming down as low as about fifty feet to do their job.

One of the planes came down really low so that I could see the pilot in it. And I saw the bomb
leave the bay. When it exploded, loose earth sprayed the area and the men who were close
fell. Other fiftypound bombs followed that one.

How long we stayed where we were, at the mercy of a string of planes manned by pilots on a
bombing and strafing spree, I do not know. Their movements were so regular and mechanical.
I imagined planes as being attached to a conveyor belt leaving at just the proper point to dive
and drop their bombs on us.

The bombs would fall on one side and we would huddle together from them; then another
would fall on the other side and we would creep away from there, too. I heard one officer tell
another to go somewhere else, not to stick with him. "Your luck might be bad," he said. "I don't
want to share it."

Finally, the planes left. I breathed normally again. None of us was hurt although there were at
least eight bomb craters around us in a small space of about twenty meters. We attributed our
good fortune to poor Japanese marksmanship.

Colonel Magtoto and I came out of our bamboo shelter and got back on the trail. We saw the
wounded being treated by the Medical Aid men. In the bamboo clumps, three fires were
burning. We continued walking.

Toward dusk, we came to a trail junction where a guide told the men of the 41st Division to
take the right trail and the men of the21st Division, the left. The men of each division were to
proceed to the end of their respective trails. Colonel Magtoto and I took the trail we were
assigned to which was Trail 18.

Before it got dark, we came upon men we recognized from our Division. We assembled as
many of them as we could; organized them into a marching column; and then, with them,
moved on. As other men came up, we had them join us. We walked into the night.

Our walk on our designated trail brought us to some nipa shacks where civilians were busy
cooking native sweetmeats. We allowed the men to stop and get something to eat.

At about 10:00 p.m., the moon rose and lighted our way. We had no idea how much farther we
had to go. The trail seemed very long.

In the distance, we saw a high mountain which I assumed to be Mt. Mariveles. Fires were
burning on the face of it. The trail we were on skirted it.

We passed a deserted bivouac area where embers were dying on cooking fires. Where the
men who belonged to this area were, we did not care to know. All I knew was that we were
walking because our orders were to get to the end of Trail 18. My movements were automatic
as were those of everyone else in the column. I supposed their minds were filled with similar
thoughts. No one spoke.

Coming upon flat ground, we decided to rest. Some of the men fell asleep on the wet grass.
About an hour later going by how the moon had moved in the sky Colonel Magtoto and I got
the column up and proceeded again.

We continued walking until in the first hours of the morning we finally got to what we thought
was the end of Trail 18. The place looked like a deserted bivouac area. We picked out shacks
to go into, lay down, and in exhaustion welcomed sleep.

The sun was bright when I awoke on 7 April and discovered that Lieutenant Munsayac, the
Mess Officer of the 1st Battalion of our regiment, had bunked with me in the shack that I had
picked. I considered myself lucky for he had some cooked rice.

I looked around the area and noticed some of our Division's Engineer officers. I also saw
Colonel Salgado and Colonel Lizardo; Leuterio, Barrenengoa, and Sevilla, and others from our
regiment. I estimated about four hundred 41st Division men in the area. I guessed the rest of
the men of our Division had taken the trail to the left.

The night before, Colonel Magtoto and I and the men in our column had skirted Mt. Mariveles.
As I looked back at it now, it stood tall and majestic, and so far away. We had travelled a great
distance.

After greeting Colonels Lizardo, Salgado, and Magtoto, I walked down the trail where I met
Captain Rufino who told me where we had slept was not the end of Trail 18. The trail end was
where Division Headquarters was, still a little farther ahead.

I continued walking and found General Lim at the Command Post of the 202nd Engineers
having coffee with Colonel Fortier. He looked fresh and cool.

"What happened yesterday after you told me about the stampede?" he asked.
I told him about the ensuing disaster on our 42nd Infantry lines. He was thoughtful for a
moment, then he addressed Colonel Fortier.

"As I told you yesterday, Fortier," he said, "the men have not recovered from the shock of 3
April. They should be allowed a few days' rest with good food, away from the fighting. Then
they can be reorganized and they'll fight again."

Turning to me, he said, "Better have your men rest here."

Toward noon, our Quartermaster truck arrived and rations were issued. We ate, then went to
sleep again. Awaking at about 4:00 p.m., I went to the stream to bathe. The stream was filled
with men and officers who were bathing. I shaved, put on fresh clothes, and felt fit again.

I walked among the men with words of greeting for them, and went to Colonel Salgado's shack
where we exchanged stories and impressions. Then, Sevilla and I went to the trail where the
sound of rifle fire coming from a distance continued to be heard.

About a kilometer from where we were, planes strafed then bombed what I later found out
were our antiaircraft batteries. The enemy never stopped their activity for any length of time.

Then what looked like a platoon of American soldiers passed through our bivouac area. They
were sweating and their faces were flushed. The look in their eyes reminded me of our men on
the Catmon Trail.

Captain Reyes of the Motor Transport Company arrived with two trucks for transporting our
sick who could not walk. While the enemy planes continued their activity, rifle firing also kept
coming at us from along the trail. We gathered our sick and loaded them onto the trucks. Many
who were not sick tried to get onto the trucks but were shouted down. They and all the men
who were sick were assembled made ready to move to Trail 20.

It was late in the afternoon now, 7 April. We decided to wait until dark before we moved out but
put the men in column, in readiness to move at one signal.

Before long, we realized that we could not wait for dark as the firing by the enemy was getting
closer very quickly. We organized the column into an advance guard formation of which I was
to be the guide.

We had no compasses that worked; I let the North Star guide me.

We walked through some fields for some time then came to the woods part which was burning.
Hearing what sounded like rifle fire, we stopped walking. Listening more intently, we concluded
it was only the sound of bamboo splitting due to the heat. We hurried as the fire could cut our
advance.

After a while, we heard footsteps in the dark. We also heard voices speaking softly. I stopped
the column. Could it be the enemy? I crept forward slowly until I could make out what the men
were saying. They turned out to be Division Headquarters troops who had started ahead of us.
We joined them and continued our trek to Trail 20.

When we got to Trail 20, we found no other troops there. We kept going in a hurry. How much
farther we walked from there, we had no way of telling. Then, at last, we saw Constabulary
Division men under the trees and felt relieved. When I heard Ojeda talking to someone, I knew
we had finally arrived at our destination.

"Doni," I called to him in the dark.

"Bert? Where are you?" he said.

I moved toward the sound of his voice.

"Where is your unit?," he asked.

"Right behind me, along with the 43rd Infantry and some Headquarters troops," I said.

"Better have your men rest here," he said.

I had the column stay on one side of the trail to rest then I joined some officers from the Corps
of Engineers. They were eager to know how fierce, and where, the Japanese were because
they were going out to meet them.

"You are?" I asked, incredulously, fearful for them. At this point in the fighting, when things
were working up to a climax and coming to a head, I felt it simply was too late for any of our
troops to go out and prepare a position, much less occupy and defend it.
I heard Major Torres of the Corps of Engineers talking and recognized his erect figure in the
dark. I greeted him. We shook hands. It was his battalion that was moving out. But no one, he
said, could tell him where the enemy was.

Major Torres used to be the Chief of Engineers and had been good to me. I was sorry for him. I
was sorry for anyone who had to go out now to meet the enemy. All I could do was wish him
luck. I could not see how any of our units could stop the enemy now, the enemy that was far
stronger than we had imagined.

Since their attack on 3 April, with artillery and planes, the enemy had succeeded in rolling us
back everyday, at every turn. The mere inertia of attacking had become their decided
advantage and their attacks had gained a momentum that was hard to face. They had
succeeded in pushing back our troops who were more experienced at fighting. I could not see
how anything but a miracle could make our untried Corps of Engineers troops stop that
steamroller offensive now.

I saw Colonel Jalandoni, the commander of the Philippine Constabulary regiment that was
moving out. He likewise wanted to know where the enemy was, but I could not help him. In the
distance, the enemy artillery kept blasting away.
 PART EIGHT
SURRENDER

CHAPTER 1

An Earthquake in Bataan

The following morning, after ascertaining that our men were where they should be, I was
having breakfast with Colonel Domaoal at Division Headquarters when he said, "Let's see
what the general has decided. He had not made a decision up to last night."

As we were walking over to the general's bunk, we were joined by Majors Campo and Ojeda. A
messenger met us and said the general was calling a conference.

When everyone he had called for had gathered around him, General Lim started. He looked
troubled, as though he had been thinking all night and had not slept at all.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I have called for you because I have a problem and cannot make a
decision. I want your advice."

He directed our attention to the map, showed us where we were, where the enemy was
reported to be, then he continued. "Colonel Fortier has advised me to put up a defensive
position on the south bank of the Lamao River. I say the men are not fit to fight. What do you
gentlemen think? Ojeda, what do you think?"

"I do not believe the men can fight just now, Sir," Ojeda answered. "They need to rest."

General Lim asked the rest of us what we thought. Everyone agreed with Ojeda.

"Now," General Lim continued, "if our men cannot fight and need to rest, where shall we go?
The enemy will be here soon. I am not sure they can be stopped anymore. They have been
winning and their morale is high."

Several officers offered suggestions as to where to go. I suggested that we move to what I
called "the farthest point of supply."

"What do you mean by "farthest point of supply'?" Colonel Fortier asked.

"A point that's as far away from the fighting as possible but which is accessible so supply trains
can reach us," I said.

"Why?" General Lim asked.

"You'll pardon me if I say this, Sir," I said, "but I've been in the fighting since 3 April. I feel that
at the rate the enemy troops are advancing, there is no way we can stem their advance. In the
next couple of days, there is bound to be a decision. When that time comes, it will be better to
be in front rather than in the rear of the enemy line."

I paused. I had voiced the helplessness I had been feeling for the last few days. These
helplessly anxious days when to the tune of bombing and shelling and the staccato of machine
gun and mortar fire we had had to keep moving back; when stopping to rest, to reorganize,
time after time we were found out by the enemy and battered by bombs and shells that we
could not fight; when moving endlessly back seemed to be the order of the day.

I continued speaking. That stampede of three hundred men on Trail 6, 1 said, was no accident.
It was the natural outcome of trying to make the fatigued, shellshocked, nervewracked human
body do more than what it could.

It was the result of making men who had endured hardships beyond the limits of human
endurance endure even more. It was the sum total of more than one hundred days of hunger,
disease, privation, and sacrifices; of sleepless nights; of constant fever-pitch activity, sudden
inactivity, then sudden feverpitch activity once more; of being tortured by lethal mosquitoes and
other forest insects, besides.

Even rocks crack due to constant change from hot to cold, and cold to hot again, I said; and
maybe the flesh in us, in our men, was still elastic, but the spirit, I believed, was near the
breaking point. A machine gun aimed by an American officer at our men to stop them from
rampaging on Trail 6 had failed to stop them.
If on meeting the enemy, our men should run away and refuse to fight anymore, what would
we do, I asked. Would we have to fire at them ourselves to keep them fighting? Could we stop
the enemy then?

I stopped talking, concerned that General Lim and the others might misunderstand me. But I
had said what I thought; and I knew I had seen more blood, torn flesh, and frightened eyes
than all of the rest of that group put together.

Everyone remained silent. We waited for the general to speak.

"I've heard your opinions," he said finally, "I'll issue orders later."

At about 10:30 a.m., we received orders to withdraw to Km. 182. Our whole Division, with the
exception of the 41st Infantry which had been detached, was to go there. We estimated we
would be there by evening.

At about 11:15 a.m., with the firing in the distance continuing, we started to move out. The
battalion commanders were instructed to keep their men together, but not to march them in
column so as not to attract enemy planes. The men were to move individually, although
battalions were to stay together as much as possible.

By 11:30 a.m., the tail of our column had not yet started to move when trucks loaded with our
wounded men came up from the nearby ford. The men told us to hurry as they had been fired
at by the enemy on Trail 6, only about a kilometer away from the river. We left in a hurry.

Where the trail was wooded, we would hurry without having to worry about concealment, but in
the open spaces we had to keep some distance between the men. We paid no attention to
dust or sore feet. We were moving away from something worse. Just an hour after we left, we
learned later, the Japanese arrived at the ford.
As we kept moving, we did not meet any enemy troops. But planes, occasionally, dove at us
on the trail.

At about 12:30 p.m., after what seemed to be a long time during which we met other units
going in the same direction, we arrived at Trail 26, our first destination on our way to Km. 182.
There I caught up with Casanova and Sevilla and their men. Trail 26 took us through forest and
open fields, over bridges and fords, past deserted bivouacs and civilian houses, past some
tanks, and then at last, to where we could breathe freely.

I felt tired, hungry, and thirsty. In spite of the two pairs of socks that I was wearing, my shoes
seemed to be chewing my feet. My stomach seemed to be eating up my intestines and
disgorging them all at once. I had a smarting pain in my insides that even smoking could not
allay. My throat felt like dry leather choked because of the dust. So as not to get fatigued too
quickly, I drank water but sparingly.

And thus, we hurried along to nowhere. I did not know where the trail led. I did not know the
country. All I knew was that I wanted to get to where I could rest, and I was getting too tired to
get there.

As we walked, whenever we passed some coconut groves, we bought coconuts if the owners
were around. The men, though tired from walking, climbed the straight branchless trunks to get
at the coconuts, drink the refreshing coconut water, and eat the luscious coconut meat to
soothe their hunger and thirst.

The sugarcane fields that abounded in the area were abloom. Like locusts, the men went into
the fields to help themselves to the sugarcane. We had not had food since the night before and
to us food in any form was very good.

While we were going over the Real River, we once again witnessed the bombing of our anti-
aircraft batteries by enemy planes. The planes – three of them – kept coming. Our anti-aircraft
batteries kept belching fire at them. We were glad to note that while columns of dust and
smoke mushroomed in the fields whenever planes unloaded their deadly cargo, our batteries
remained unharmed.

This was not the case with our men's morale. Our men were walking with us all right, but
straggling was the order of the day. They moved individually, with each man's state of physical
fitness, mental attitude, and will to live dictating the pace and manner in which he moved.

Many men walked on not caring to duck when enemy planes came overhead; not minding
whether they walked in ankledeep dust, knee-deep water, or on hard round pebbles. Their
eyes wore a tired, distant look as they moved on like robots, not caring where to or why.
Loaded with their belongings and using their rifles as carrying poles, they were walking south
because others were walking south and it was better to join the crowd than to walk alone.

Still on our way to Km. 182, we came to Cabcaben where the Philippine Constabulary Division
Headquarters was situated. We stopped at a nearby stream and washed our faces, hair,
hands, and necks which were covered with dust and sweat paste for we were walking in the
heat of a noonday April sun.
I thought of walking over to the Command Post to say hello to some of my friends who were
there but on second thought did not. I knew they would ask me questions about our
encounters and the movements of the last few days. I did not feel like talking about them. It
was bad enough to go through the experience. To recount it now would be to relive it all over
again. And if they asked why we failed to hold, I did not want to have to try to explain.

“Why?” People – especially those who had not been in battle – will ask why a line broke, why
the men withdrew, why they fell and died. And they will ask these questions of the men who
survived the fight. Men who, though worn out with fatigue, starved almost to death, racked with
disease having been through fire and hell, had held on; determined to win, or die. Men who
had faced the enemy's bullets, shells, bombs, and the cold steel of the enemy's bayonets; but
by some strange stroke of Fate had survived.

As I write now, I would tell those who ask “Why?” I would tell them this.

Those among us who did not survive – they, too, fought and held; and when pushed back
drove forward again to try to regain lost ground. On orders, they like those of us who lived
had to withdraw because the enemy, disdainfully we had to admit, simply was too strong.

But our comrades who did not survive, they, too reorganized to hold a new line. They, too,
attempted one final, desperate, futile effort to win the fight. But we were fighting a fight we
could not win.

We survived but they did not. We had to leave them on the battlefield, dead or dying. If they
who died could rise to answer "Why? " I think they would curse their destiny and ours. They
would rise, and with their ghostly hands smite those who question "Why?"
After freshening up at the stream near the Constabulary Headquarters, we resumed our walk.
Finding a clump of bamboo trees, we lay down on the ground beneath them and rested. In the
distance, we could see many men walking toward Little Baguio, a thickly wooded elevation.

The sky was clear. Little white fleecy clouds floated by in ever changing forms. A refreshing
light breeze blew in from the sea. It felt good being able to lie down on my back on the thick
grass, with my shoes off and my toes feeling the breeze. It was nice to be able to look up,
somewhat leisurely, at the distant blue; to rest my eyes on the cool green of the grass; to have
the sound of artillery far behind.

It felt good to be able to hear again the chirp and hiss of the insects that moved about and the
twitter of the small birds in the branches above; to smell the scent of grass, flowers, and trees
mingling together as they should in the fields and in the forest, unadulterated by the odor of
smoke and gunpowder. It was nice to know that while I rested under the trees, if only for a little
while, I was not exposed to harm. As the birds made music and the breeze played on my arms
and feet and face, I felt the soothing balm of sleep come on.

I was awakened by Sevilla telling me we had better move on as a lot of trucks were racing
toward Little Baguio and a lot of men were running down the road. Arriving at Little Baguio, we
found much confusion as trucks, men, and animals moved hurriedly about while planes
hovered overhead. We continued on.

At what was formerly the hospital area, now a bunch of charred, ruins, we found Colonel
Lizardo. Taking my orderly along, I proceeded ahead of the group to Km. 182.

Darkness had descended when we saw a bus coming our way. We got on it. It was Captain
Tinio who opened the door for us.

As the bus rolled along, we passed Mariveles and its airfield, now nothing more than a flat
expanse in the dark. And we noticed burning buildings in what we later learned was the naval
base.

When the bus got to Km 182, the final destination of the 41st Division, it stopped. Tinio,
Panlilio, and I got out. In the darkness we could see nothing that resembled an assembly area.
All that we could see on either side of the road were wide fields of grass.

Farther off, we noticed the silhouette of trees. It turned out to be a clump of mango trees. We
found some 41st Division Headquarters troops there, along with various supplies and some
food.

Tinio, Panlilio, and I had something to eat, then we went to sleep. It was only 8:00 p.m., but we
were very tired.

I was so tired I could not pay any attention to the fires that were burning just a hundred yards
away. And only fleetingly before I fell asleep did I notice that up in the sky, a million stars were
winking at one another as if to say, "What poor creatures earth men are, moving all the time
from birth to death; going where?"

I had just fallen asleep when a chill woke me up. Thinking it was the night wind, I buttoned my
shirt collar up and put on my khaki cap. But the chill grew worse.

Tinio woke up. I asked him if he was cold. He was not. He felt my brow. "You're burning with
fever," he said, and wrapped his towel around me. Shaking all over, I knew it was malaria.

Suddenly, we heard the sound of unending explosions. It was worse then the sound of artillery.
Off in the distance, a huge fire broke out and blazed, reddening the sky while the explosions
kept on going.

"They've exploded the ammunition dump," Tinio said knowingly.

Then, just as suddenly, the earth shook violently. An earthquake rocked the ground where we
stood. One final, angry convulsion on Bataan by God, I pondered; one final, outraged protest
to the heathen horde from an alien land who had come to our placid, peaceful, verdant
Philippines to despoil it.

That earthquake was a fitting finale to the continued, incessant quakes in the blood and minds
and hearts of the men of the 41st Division who for one hundred and five days in Bataan lived in
a land of horror, desolation, devastation, and death drenched in blood and tears. Who for one
hundred and five days, passed through a hell of fire and steel, of indescribable torture of body
and soul; of poignant injury and privations of all kinds; of cold and heat, hunger and thirst; of
death constantly and unwaveringly staring them in the face. Who for one hundred and five
days fought unstintingly for life and hope; but lost.
CHAPTER 2

Facing The Consequences

The next morning, I awoke with the sun beating on my face. Tinio had awakened earlier. We
walked over to the Headquarters of the Philippine Army on the Pinkian River noticing the men
of the 41st Division who arrived during the night.

Seeing some chickens, we thought of food. We had not tasted chicken for more than two
months and now imagined chicken roasting over an open fire dripping with fat. After ordering
chicken for lunch, Tinio and I had breakfast. Several officers joined us.

"Sir," one of them said to me, "I've heard that the Japanese are in Cabcaben and that the
Philippine Army is going to surrender."

"What do you think the Japanese will do to us if we surrender?" another asked. I said I did not
know.

Someone else attempted to answer the question. "Doesn't International Law say soldiers are
to be taken prisoners when they surrender?" he asked.

"They'll probably kill us all," someone else added.

I did not like the topic of conversation. I excused myself and left the group. I saw some officers
whom I had not seen since the start of the war. We greeted one another and chatted.

Then I saw it. Someone came, carrying a white blanket hoisted onto the end of a long pole. It
was the white flag of surrender. So we were really surrendering, I thought, sadly. The game
was over. We had played with high stakes and played the game well and it was interesting
while it lasted. But now it was all over and we had lost.
A quotation by Grantland Rice came to my mind. It went something like this. "When the one
Great Scorer comes, he will ask not if you won or lost; but how you played the game." The
thought gave me some consolation. We had lost, but we had done our very best. It just was
not good enough.

We had no idea what would happen to us after surrendering. Would we be massacred when
the Japanese came? Would we be taken prisoners? We had no way of knowing.

Soon, we received the order to surrender all arms at a specified spot in the camp. I felt a pang
of pain as I surrendered mine. That act, to me, was the final gesture of the fight. Already, two
huge piles of arms had formed.

But so, what next? So many times earlier as we fought the Japanese I had asked the question
of myself and others. I found myself asking it again, now. What about the aftermath? There
were questions I had to resolve.

As a division, we were surrendering. But were we, each of us, individually, free to do what we
felt we had to do?
As I saw it, we had two choices. We could await the conquerors, give ourselves up; and suffer
the consequences. Or we could take to the mountains, engage in guerrilla activities, fight the
enemy further until the Americans could come back; and suffer the consequences. Which did I
want to do?

I had no doubt that our surrender in Bataan would be nothing more than an interlude in the war
of the Philippines. Neither did I ever think that America would lose the war. In the beginning, I
had wondered if America would give the Philippines up but had become convinced that it
would not. For now, however, with Bataan in Japanese hands, Corregidor would be reduced to
ashes, for Corregidor was vulnerable to ground firing from only one spot, Cabcaben.

One thing was clear. With Bataan gone, the Philippines would go. I wondered what I should do.

I was faced with a monumental dilemma. On how I solved it would depend the future course of
my life. I thought of General Lim. Would he run away or :give himself up? I decided to see him.

I found him sitting in a chair with his head bent down, thinking. He looked up as I came in.

"Yes, Bert," he said cordially, "what's troubling you?"

"Are we surrendering, Sir'?" I asked.

"Yes, the USAFFE in Bataan is surrendering. General King has gone to negotiate for truce."

"I'm troubled, Sir," I said, "and have come for advice. I've always considered you as a father. I
ask you now for a father's advice."

"What is it?"

"If we are surrendering, Sir, would you advise me to surrender or to run to the mountains?"

"I'll tell you this," he said. "When we finally surrender, it will be on orders from USAFFE
Headquarters. With that order, you can do what you wish. You will have to study the matter,
then make a decision. If you surrender, you surrender on superior orders. If you run to the
mountains, you assume responsibility for your action. Whether you choose to surrender or run
away, I will neither hold it against you nor give you credit for it."

He paused. I could see that he was probably pondering the matter himself. I thanked him and
left.

I felt better having communicated with General Lim, but I was still troubled. Sitting on a rock
near a stream, I thought some more.

If I surrendered on orders, would it, even so, seem dishonorable? Would it be shameful? Could
I continue to hold my head up and say I did not lose face when I surrendered?

What about the enemy? Would they stand us against a wall and shoot us? Would they send
us, their prisoners, to some prison camp for the duration of the war? For how long would that
be?
Would they treat us, like they said, as friends and after a while send us back home? Home. For
the first time since I arrived in Bataan, I had the time to think of my home, wife and children.

Would I see them again? Would I again have the pleasure of hugging my four little girls? And
what about my wife? On 24 December, I had left her in Silang, a town near Tagaytay, where we
had lived for only a month. How was she? She was with child when I left. Surely the Japanese
had been through Silang. Was my family well? Were they alive? Since coming to Bataan I had
had no news of home nor had I even thought of my family. Would I live to be with them again?

Supposing I ran to the mountains. I had lived in the mountains for three months and had
managed. I could continue to live in the mountains. But would that be honorable? Or
shameful?

If I ran away to the mountains, could I finally go home? Maybe it would not be too hard to be a
civilian again. Maybe I could change my identity. Maybe I could go back to Silang. And when
the Americans came back, I could join them again.

I got up to walk around our assembly area. At the group of shacks where the American unit
instructors had bunked together, I saw a familiar face. It was Colonel MacDonald. He looked
up and smiled at me.

"You seem troubled," he said. "And I can guess why. You're trying to figure out your next
move."

"Yes, Sir," I said, "to surrender or run away.

"What do you plan to do?"

"I'm stumped, Sir." I replied.

"You should have no trouble deciding," he said. "You're a Filipino. If you surrender, the
Japanese may treat you better than they would treat us Americans. If we Americans are willing
to surrender, you Filipinos should not be unwilling to do so. Theres nothing dishonorable about
a surrender. Besides, you will surrender on orders. It will be just like withdrawing. Withdrawing
without orders is disgraceful, but withdrawal under orders is discipline. And if you run away, will
the men think of you as being brave or cowardly? Will they not say you were afraid to face the
consequences of the war you were a part of? Don't let it trouble you. Surrender is honorable. "

I kept quiet. He continued, "This won't last long. We'll be receiving help soon and then we'll be
back in harness again."

I smiled, acknowledged his optimism, thanked him for his advice, and walked on. But I was still
at a loss for a decision.

I walked through the woods greeting the men that I recognized, not minding the thousands of
others who were moving about. Someone called to me. It was Major Panopio, a nice elderly
man who had been Quartermaster at Camp Murphy and to whom I had been quite close. How
greatly he had changed! Lean and athletic at Camp Murphy, he now was thin and his hair was
gray. I went up to him.

"I know what you're thinking about, Bert," he said. "Don't think too much. And don't run to the
mountains. If you do that, even if you should get home you'll be a hunted man,. That will be all
right if the Americans can come back right away. But if they take a long time, how will you live
then?

"Let's say you get back home and you've changed your name. You cannot change your face.
Your friends and enemies will recognize you when they see you and before you know it, the
Japanese will have caught you.

"If you go to a place where the people don't know you, because of your being new there, the
people will be attracted to you. If there are proJaps among them, you'll soon be questioned. If
you're found out, you'll be killed. Would you like to live the life of a hunted man? Would you like
not being able to show your face in the streets?

"And are you afraid to face the consequences of the war? We fought; we lost. Let's face the
conquerors as bravely now as we did when we met them in battle."
I noticed tears welling up in his eyes and that moved me for certainly Major Panopio was not
crying because of me. I guessed that he probably had been troubled, too, and had himself just
made a painful decision. When he spoke again, he said, "Don't be a fool. Don't run to the hills."

I thanked him, walked away, and finally made my decision. I would surrender and face the
consequences.

As I resumed walking, a plane flew over us. No one ducked. No one took cover. Were not so
many white flags flying in so many places where we were, white flags signifying that we were
surrendering?

The plane circled once then dove at us, strafed, then left. About two hundred and fifty men in
that closely packed congregation were reported killed.

"And suffer the consequences"I muttered to myself. Supposing the enemy refused to accept
our offer to surrender. Supposing those savage killers who since 3 April had been relentlessly
stalking their prey should want to kill some more. Would they, now that their prey was at bay,
allow it to sit down, to be tamely chained? Or would they embark on a program of shooting us
down savagely, mercilessly, as they had done just now?

Would they make us stand and fight to the death while they held all the weapons? If they
should choose to do that, then we were helpless for there was no way we could move back
anymore. We were hemmed in by the sea on three sides; they, the enemy, were on the fourth.
But if this was what they should want to do, I resolved I would fight to the end.

I sought my orderly and asked for some clean clothes. Then I went to the stream and bathed,
cleansing myself of the dirt that had collected during the past two days from dust, sweat, and
river mud. It was nice to feel the stream passing over my body. It was nice to think that I was
cleansing myself of the dust of battle for whether I liked it or not, the Battle of Bataan was over.
After bathing, I walked around the camp observing the men gathered there. A bunch of officers
were engrossed in a game of poker. I envied them the ease with which they were taking the
surrender.

Generally, the men of the 41st Division looked rested. They sported a color of deep burnt
brown due to exposure to the sun but they looked better than they had looked in Samat and on
Trail 6. They had bathed and were looking neat unlike the way they had looked a few days ago
when they had been a disheveled mess. Their eyes looked more alive and contented, no
longer like the eyes of wild animals held at bay, glaring and frightened.

As the men sat and chatted or smoked, they seemed to be comfortable, collected, at ease.
Surrender to them meant only one thing: the end of hostilities. It was easy to understand their
feeling of wellbeing. Now they would be free from the uncertainty, the fear, the disease, and
the hunger that had been their lot since 24 December 1941.

Gone into the past were the uncertain days of battle. Gone the unalleviated fear that grips all
men in the face of uncertainty of the future, and of death. Gone the fear of diseases that had
overtaken us in the Samat wilderness. Gone the hunger that had scraped and eaten into our
insides.

The sick and the weak were not with us. They were probably wandering about somewhere in
the wilderness, or lying dead in a nook or corner somewhere in Bataan, their corpses
bleaching under the sun until some kindly soul could bury them. The men who were around
appeared to be reasonably recovered from the hardships they had endured during the past few
days. Whether or not they were really well, only time would tell.

Some of the men were concerned about their money and valuables. Should they hide them?
But where? Would not our captors come and take them? Jewelry, money, watches, and pens
were a special problem. Even extra clothes were a problem.

The day wore on while we waited. After being served lunch by the Quartermaster of the
Philippine Army Headquarters, the men slept.

That afternoon, I stopped to see the American instructors of our Division who were in a group
by themselves. Colonel Fortier was asleep. Colonel Lewis was sick with malaria. What a
change he had undergone since the last time I had seen him! He had been husky and robust,
but now was pale with purple rings around his sunken eyes. His cheeks were sunken too.
When dusk fell, things continued as they were. Nothing pertinent to the surrender as yet had
happened. Night came brightened by the many lights that shone where the men had gathered
in groups under the trees. Pokerplaying had become more popular. Three new sets were
playing now.

Some of the men were rolling dice. In some places, the men were singing. The camp tonight
was no war bivouac. It seemed more like a picnic site.

At about 7:30 the next morning, I went to the 43rd Infantry bivouac and chatted with Colonel
Salgado and his staff. We had nothing to do but wait. We talked about the future.
"I wonder what would be a good job when we get home," someone said.

“When we get home!” someone else said. “When do you expect to get home? We'll be war
prisoners until the war is over. We'll probably be made to work at war preparations.”

There were other questions, answers, speculations.

“Where will we be imprisoned?”

“Tokyo, maybe, so we cannot escape.”

“I hope we're interned around Manila. Camp Murphy or Quezon City would be a good place. I
have my family there and it will be easy to escape.”

“Tagaytay would be a healthy place for such a camp. We'd enjoy staying there.”

“Why worry about a job right now? Our pay's accruing. Even if we surrender and don't draw
money while we're interned, we'll be earning. And we can borrow money payable after the war.
But we'll have to get busy and strong again so we can start working for a living.”
Colonel Salgado broke up the session with a question to his orderly. “Is the pig ready?” he
asked.

“We're dressing it, Sir,” his orderly replied.

“What pig?” I asked Salgado.

“You'll see,” he answered. “Stay for lunch. We're having roast pig.”

“I don't believe you,” I said.

“Stick around and see,” he said. “Cavalier, don't you know where we are is a piggery?”

I told him I would be back for lunch.

Toward noon, I started back for Salgado's place. I found Ojeda and Kalaw there sitting on a
couple of rocks, chatting.

“What's the next move, Doni?” I asked Ojeda.

“Nothing yet,” he said. “We're to stick around till the Japanese come and take us away.”

“Do you know where to?”

“I've heard we'll be registered somewhere then sent home.”

“You're kidding,” I said.

“No, that's what we heard. It sounds too good to be true.”

As we were talking, we heard the sound of trucks approaching and got up to see what was
going on. A convoy of them loaded with Japanese soldiers arrived led by a car.

Two Japanese officers came out followed by a Japanese civilian. The officers looked very
young and were clean shaven. They wore woolen uniforms and boots. One had aiglets across
his shoulders. The civilian was in khaki shirt and pants and wore a Hawley trooper helmet.

Then, a platoon of Japanese soldiers came running up and encircled the officers. They took a
ring formation facing the outside and held their rifles with bayonets fixed on guard.

Someone called for General Lim. General Lim came out and went inside the circle. He sat
down on the trunk of a fallen mango tree facing the officer with the aiglets who had seated
himself likewise. The civilian who was the interpreter remained standing.

As we had been pushed back by the bayonets, we could not hear the conversation between
General Lim and the Japanese officer but we saw how the Japanese officer would say
something which the civilian would interpret and then General Lim would respond. The
conference lasted for about twenty minutes then General Lim got up. The Japanese officers
did, too, then got into their car. The soldiers who made up the circle of fixed bayonets moved
back to their truck. General Lim went back to his tent.
 EPILOGUE
THE WALK HOME

After the surrender of Bataan on 9 April 1942, those of us who surrendered were assembled in
different groups in Mariveles and its vicinity. After two or three days kept under guard, we were
told to walk home. I was assigned to the group which included Major Ojeda and Colonel
Chioco and his men.

Our group was ordered to "walk home" on 12 April. We were ordered to leave all equipment
and extra clothing behind. Thus, stripped of all that we had except for the clothing we had on
and what money, jewelry, and whatever else we could keep in our pockets, hands, and
mouths, we started out. Thrown in with the other groups, we formed a continuous column of
haggard, wan, and defeated men.

All along the way as the column walked, we were harassed by Japanese soldiers who
incessantly came up to us and asked for clothing and money.

Asked, did I say? "Robbed" was the word for it. They would stop us, then using unmistakable
signs, ask for our money, rings, watches, fountain pens, knives, flashlights, and whatever
gadgets we had that they fancied. Anyone who signaled "No" was slapped or kicked wherever
the Japanese soldiers chose to hit him. We learned to hide what we had in the linings of our
uniforms and underwear.

On the first night of our walk, some of us decided to rest near the roadside where we thought
there were no Japanese soldiers. Major Ojeda, Lieutenant Lara, Sergeant Villanueva, and I
grouped together. In the dark, we sensed the passage of other men walking out of Bataan.

Major Ojeda had secreted a small can of Spanish sardines. The four of us shared it. Lara had
a little bit of water in his canteen. We drank that.

All of a sudden, a light was flashed on our faces. We were startled by a loud "Kurrah!" Then
two Japanese soldiers advanced and stood before us with their bared bayonets pointed at us.
"Kurrah! Kurrah!" they said again. Not knowing what they wanted, we stood up. One of the
soldiers frisked us while the other kept his bayonet pointed at us.

There was not much to search us for.

All I had that was of interest to them was my pocketbook, in which I had my Army identification
card and pictures of my wife and children. It was one of those pocketbooks with a hidden
pocket. In the pocket I had a five hundred peso bill and the General Orders citing me and
awarding me the Silver Star for gallantry in action in Abucay.

Ojeda had a pen.

The others had nothing.

The Japanese soldiers took my pocketbook and Ojeda's pen, our last remaining material
possessions in Bataan.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

GENERAL RIGOBERTO J. ATIENZA

General Rigoberto J. Atienza was the 13th Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces of the
Philippines. He served in the Armed Forces for thirty years from 1936 to 1966 with honor,
distinction and brilliance, earning respect and admiration for his achievements during the years
of war as well as the years of peace.

General Atienza was born on January 4, 1911, the second of five children of Buenaventura
Atienza and Ponciana Joaquin. He was an outstanding student and campus leader. At the
Manila South High School, he graduated valedictorian of Class 1929. In citywide competitions
among Manila's public high schools, he won the gold medal as best debater and the silver
medal in oratory, and he was the captain of his school's Preparatory Military Training model
company which was adjudged the best in military drill competitions.

Atienza obtained from the University of the Philippines in 1934 the degree of Bachelor of
Science in Civil Engineering. He was the president of the Board of Management of the
"Philippine Collegian," the university paper, and its news editor. He was a varsity letterman in
basketball and, together with his friends, founded the Tau Alpha fraternity of the College of
Engineering. For two years after graduation and after hurdling the board examination, he
practised as a civil engineer.

While at the University of the Philippines, Atienza completed the advance course in the
Reserve Officers Training Corps (ROTC), qualifying for a berth in the Reserve Officers Service
School (ROSS) in Baguio, where he graduated in 1936 at the top of his class in academics.

It was on 1 October 1936 that Atienza began his military career. Starting out as a 3rd
lieutenant, he was integrated into the regular force as a 2nd lieutenant in 1938. Since he was a
civil engineer, Lieutenant Atienza was given charge of major constructions in Camp Murphy,
Zablan Field and Camp Claudio until 1940.

In 1941 Atienza graduated with honors from the Infantry School, Philippine Army at Camp
Murphy. In September of that year he was promoted to captain and appointed Division
Engineer, 41st Division, Philippine Army and Commanding Officer of the 41st Engineer
Battalion. Shortly after the outbreak of World War II in the Philippines on December 8, 1941, he
was appointed Inspector General of the division.

The exploits of Atienza during World War 11 with the 41st Division of the Philippine Army under
the command of Brigadier General Vicente P. Lim, and later as a HuntersROTC guerrilla, for
which he received medals, decorations and citations are well recorded in the annals of
Philippine military history. They tell of his courage, leadership, coolness under fire; intelligence,
sound judgment and initiative.

Atienza's courage and leadership in other actions at Bataan earned him the Philippine Gold
Cross, the Distinguished Conduct Star, the U.S. Silver Star, and the Philippine Legion of Honor
Medal, among others. These medals and other decorations given the General for his heroic
feats during the war, as well as the numerous military reports, invariably cite his gallantry and
outstanding performance.
In strongly recommending Atienza for the prestigious U.S. Legion of Merit award, Colonel
Malcolm V. Fortier, Infantry, U.S. Army (who was Senior Instructor and Adviser to the 41st
Division, Philippine Army), was to write in April 1946:

"Lt. Col. (then Major) Rigoberto J. Atienza, C.E., P.A. during the period November 17, 1941 to
April 9, 1942 acted in the capacities of Division Engineer, Division Inspector, and during the
last week in the capacity of Executive Officer of one of the Infantry Regiments of the 41st
Division, P.A. He was placed in the last position with the idea of stepping him up to command
that Infantry Regiment.

"As Division Engineer, this officer's services were of the greatest value to the Division.
Indefatigable in energy, he was all over the Division front, giving advice and supervising the job
of defensive organization. His work in organizing the beach, Abucay, and Bagac-Pilar positions
was outstanding.

"Company officers had little or no idea of defense organization. Without individual intrenching
tools and a knowledge of organization, work there would have proved insurmountable without
the excellent advice and help of Lt. Col. Atienza.

"When it was found that the men, in isolated 'Spider' foxholes, did not resist as well as they
should, it was Lt. Col. Atienza who developed a system of intrenching that brought the men in
close companionship and increased their ability to resist considerably. This svs1ein of
intrenching was most favourably commented on by Brig. Gen. Casey, USAFFE engineer, on
his visit of inspection of the front lines

“Because of the unusual intelligence, general knowledge warfare, coolness under fire,
indefatigable energy and high qualities of leadership of this officer, Brig. Gen. Vicente Lim
(Commanding the 41st Div., P.A.) and I had agreed in the last week of action to place Lt. Col.
Atienza in charge of one of the Infantry Regiments of the Division and he would have become
so, in fact, had the action lasted a few days longer.

"For the exceptional and meritorious services rendered by Lt. Col. Rigoberto J. Atienza, I
strongly recommend him for the Legion of Merit and definitely state that th is recommendation
would receive the wholehearted support of Brig. Gen. Vicente Lim, were he alive today.”

Colonel Fortier, in concluding his recommendation which could well serve as a quick summary
of General Atienza's exemplary achievements in Bataan, said: “This officer is one of the finest
Filipino officers I came in contact with.”

The U.S. Legion of Merit was thus conferred on then Lieutenant Colonel Atienza.

Recognizing his merits, his superior officers progressively promoted him in the course of the
war in Bataan, to increasingly higher positions of responsibility. In February 1942, two months
after the outbreak of the war, Captain Atienza was promoted to major. On 1 April 1942 he was
assigned Regimental Executive Officer of the 42nd Infantry Regiment of the 41st Division.
General Lim had told him that after a few days, orders would be issued making him
Regimental Commander. But by then, the war in Bataan had ended.
Of the 41st Division, which fought courageously against overwhelming odds in Bataan,
General Carlos P. Romulo said, "To me this division of Filipinos are the greatest heroes in the
Battle of the Philippines." Of Atienza, General Lim said, "In this war, I know of no other officer
as loyal as Atienza, nor one with so colorful a war record."

With the surrender of Bataan on April 9, 1942, Atienza was among the thousands who endured
the Death March to Capas, Tarlac and subsequent incarceration at Camp O'Donnell in Capas.
Upon his release in July 1942 he joined the underground resistance unit organized by General
Lim. After Lim was captured off the coast of Mindoro, Atienza transferred to the HuntersROTC
guerrilla group of Colonel Terry Adevoso.

As Operations Chief of the HuntersROTC, Atienza served with distinction especially in the
guerrilla attacks on Japanese forces in Batangas, Laguna, Cavite, Rizal and south Manila.
Performing with the same courage, leadership and intelligence of his Bataan days, Atienza
was once again to receive awards for his pursuits as a guerrilla.

In January 1945, he coordinated the rendezvous of guerrillas with a reconnaissance party of

the U.S. Sixth Army at Balaytigue, Nasugbu, Batangas. He provided the Americans with vital
information on possible landing beaches, enemy strength and installations which contributed to
the successful landing of the U.S. Army's l1th Airborne Division at Nasugbu.

After the Balaytigue rendezvous, Atienza worked on plans to coordinate guerrilla action against
Japanese garrisons in the southern Luzon and southern Manila areas. The wellcoordinated
and executed guerrilla action neutralized enemy efforts to interfere with the advance of the
U.S. 11th Airborne Division from Nasugbu to Manila.

Atienza also played an instrumental role in the successful guerrilla raid on Muntinglupa, Rizal
and the liberation of internees from the Los Banos, Laguna internment camp in February 1945.
He joined the amphibious group, supervised the operations by the guerrillas, and stayed in Los
Banos until all the internees had been safely evacuated to Binan. During the battle for
liberation, Atienza was attached to the U.S. 11th Airborne Division and skillfully directed a
successful attack against wellentrenched enemy troops in a prominent ridge in the vicinity of
Bagumbayan, Rizal.

For his actions as a guerrilla, Atienza earned the Distinguished Service Star, the Military Merit
Medal and the U.S. Bronze Star.

Throughout his career, General Atienza drew inner strength from prayer and an unwaivering
faith in God. In his book about the war in Bataan, he relates that in the midst of war on
Christmas Day 1941, “I found myself praying for strength; for courage and fortitude to
overcome the hardships that war was sure to be bringing upon us. I prayed for peace, justice,
and love of fellowmen; for the grim determination to preserve for our progeny our rightful
inheritance of a proper place under the sun." In another instance, after a close brush with
death on 15 March 1942, he pondered, "Was I afraid of dying? The answer to that had to be
'No' I had always believed that the matter of when I should die was not in my hands but in the
hands of God, the good God that I trusted and who I believed made each one of us for a
particular /purpose and Who directs the minutest detail on earth."

After the liberation, Atienza in April 1945 returned to the formal army with the rank of major. He
was sent to the United States to attend the course on Combined Arms at the Command and
General Staff College in Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. There he topped the group of fifteen
senior AFP officers who took the course with him.

On his return to the Philippines in 1946, he was appointed Assistant Chief of Engineers and
concurrently Commanding Officer of the Engineer Service Battalion (ESB). The next year he
was made Executive Officer of the 1st Infantry Training Regiment, in addition to his duties as
Commanding Officer of the ESB and the Emergency Combat Battalion. In January 1949 he
was promoted to lieutenant colonel and Deputy Chief of Engineers, AFP, concurrent to his
assignment as Commanding Officer of the ESB.

He was named Assistant Chief of Staff, G4 (Logistics), GHO AFP at Camp Murphy in
September 1951. In 1954 he served as Chief of the Planning Group, Office of the Chief of
Staff, AFP and then as Assistant Commandant, Command and General Staff School at Fort
McKinley.

In 1957 Atienza was promoted to full colonel. He was by then Chief of the SEATO Affairs
Office. He represented the Philippines in the SEATO Military Advisers meetings that were held
in Canberra, Bangkok and Manila. He also headed the Philippine delegation to the SEATO
Council of Ministers meetings and attended international conferences abroad.

In 1958 Atienza, regarded as one of the best informed AFP officers in Philippine and
international military affairs, was appointed the first secretary of the PhilippineU.S. Mutual
Defense Board upon its organization. He attended the 4th Advanced Management Program in
the Far East, conducted by Harvard University, held in Baguio in 1959. In recognition of his
ability as a tactician, he was appointed Assistant Chief of Staff for War Plans (G5) in 1960. He
caused the completion of studies on the AFP's mobilization capabilities and formulation of AFP
mobilization plans, the codification of war plans, and the production of original studies and
researches towards the qualitative and quantitative development of the defense establishment.

As AFP action officer on matters affecting the PhilippineU.S. Mutual Defense Board, he
contributed immeasurably to the development of PhilippineU.S. mutual defense plans.

In March 1962 Atienza was promoted to brigadier general, serving first as Commanding
General, IV Military Area, P.A., and concurrently Commander of the 6th Infantry Division, and
then as Commanding General of the IV Philippine Constabulary Zone, all covering the
MindanaoSulu area. During this period, he effectively stepped up the drive against smuggling,
loose firearms, and. other forms of lawlessness. At the same time he enhanced public relations
within his area of command and brought back civilian respect and confidence in government
troops.

Finding in the persistent Muslim problem an intriguing challenge to his leadership, Atienza
made a penetrating study of Filipino Muslim psychology analyzing details of relevant incidents
dating as far back as 1902. His research on "Maratabat" was published as a scholarly
document in the AFP Quarterly in 1963. He was one of the first military leaders to recognize
that the solution to the persistent peace and order problem in Muslim Mindanao did not rest on
the use of arms alone, but in the understanding of the history and culture of the Muslim
Filipinos. Applying this knowledge, he effected a decline in the rampant killings in the
MindanaoSulu area.
In September 1963, General Atienza moved from Mindanao to Nueva Ecija as he assumed
command of the 1st Infantry (Tabak) Division, P.A. in Fort Magsaysay, the only combatready
division at that time. Here he did not confine his undertakings to the military sphere. He
established a pilot AFP Civic Action Center Program for disseminating socioeconomic
concepts in the rural areas. He initiated a massive upland rice project and a fiveyear economic
program for the division. He is thus regarded as one of the early exponents of the
socioeconomic role of the Armed Forces in Philippine progress.

In June 1964, General Atienza was appointed Commanding General of the Philippine Army. He
revitalized the ground defense stability of the Army through constant command exercises and
valuation of its operational readiness status. With keen imagination and foresight, he instituted
long and short range measures to better prepare the Army for employment not only in war and
land operations, but also in the expansion and development of the country's economy.

Toward the continuing program in the rural areas, he directed Army engineers and technical
men in the pioneering work of building much needed roads, bridges, waterworks, prefabricated
school buildings and other essential constructions to provide better living conditions for the
masses.

In January 1965 Atienza was promoted to Major General and AFP Vice Chief of Staff, while
concurrently holding the position of Commanding General of the Philippine Army..

Atienza brought to his peacetime assignments the same extraordinary administrative skill,
depth of intelligence, and sensitivity that had marked his wartime career.

On 13 July 1965, General Rigoberto J. Atienza was appointed Chief of Staff of the Armed
Forces of the Philippines.

On assuming the highest position in the military organization, General Atienza laid down five
guiding principles: humaneness and fairness; maximum efficiency at minimum cost; valid
standards of performance; continuity of effort; abiding faith with our country and our people,
and in God.

After he was sworn into office, the new Chief of Staff said: "We must be able, by social action,
to participate in the various tasks of nationbuilding. We must be able to build more roads,
fabricate and set up more school buildings, conserve our forests and other natural resources,
penetrate farflung communities and bring the government closer to them, rush succor to
calamitystricken areas. We must be able, by professional military competence, to prepare for
war, combat smuggling, eradicate lawlessness, train the youth for better citizenship, prevent
and fight subversion, and thus make this land of ours a better place to live in for each and
everyone. The Armed Forces can accomplish its mission only if everyone realizes that only our
best is good enough for service to our country."

As Chief of Staff, General Atienza set a strong example of diligence, efficient service and
dedication to duty. The men in uniform respected and willingly served their leader, for he was a
man of discipline who marked his leadership with justice, firmness and kindness.

On 22 January 1966 General Atienza retired from active military service due to ill health. Upon
his retirement he was appointed Senior Military Adviser. On 8 October 1966 General Atienza
died of cancer.

In his lifetime the general received the praise and admiration of many. The Armed Forces of
the Philippines called him one of its most brilliant and best informed officers. He is held in high
esteem for his lifelong pursuit of excellence and commitment to the finest traditions of the
military service.

In the course of his military career, General Atienza was awarded 31 personal and unit medals,
decorations and citations for gallantry in action in Bataan and its it guerrilla, for meritorious
service, and for campaigns in which he participated. Posthumously he was elected to the Allied
Officers Hall of Fame by the U.S. Army Command and General Staff College at Fort
Leavenworth, Kansas. The 51st Engineer Brigade camp at Libis, Quezon City bears the
name."Camp General Rigoberto J. Atienza" in his honor.

The general is survived by his widow, Eugenia Suarez Atienza, who was in his Class of 1929
at the Manila South High School and who obtained her degree in Pharmacy from the Philippine
Women's University. The living children are: Zenaida (married to David Clymer), Eloisa
(married to Victor Lim), Herminia (married to Renato Ilano), Rosalinda (married to Balbino
Hernando), Rolando (married to Maria Luisa Albert), and Josefina (married to Feliciano
Salvaña). Three children predeceased the general.

General Atienza is well remembered for his humane leadership, discipline and concern for
justice. Softspoken and unassuming, he was a scholarly peaceloving, deeply spiritual man,
with a passion for excellence. To his children and to the officers and men under his various
commands, General Rigoberto J. Atienza left as a legacy the guiding principle which sums up
his philosophy of service, and of life itself: "Only your best is good enough for your mission."

Based on the official biography of General Rigoberto J. Atienza prepared by the Office of
Military History, Armed Forces of the Philippines.
 ROSTER OF OFFICERS

41ST DIVISION, PHILIPPINE ARMY

Brigadier General Vicente Lim Commanding General

Major Tomas Domaoal Chief of Staff

Division Staff

Captain Mamerto Montemayor G1

Third Lieutenant Estanislao Feria Assistant G1
Captain Isagani Campo G2
Third Lieutenant Patricio Lara Assistant G2
Third Lieutenant Leopoldo Alicbusan Assistant G2
Third Lieutenant Jose Crisol Assistant G2
Captain Dionisio Ojeda G3
First Lieutenant Julio Narvaez Assistant G3
Second Lieutenant Teodoro Kalaw Assistant G3
Captain Juan Chioco Quartermaster
Captain Jose Montelibano G4
Second Lieutenant Andres Tolentino Assistant G4

Special Staff

Captain Jacinto Chong CO, 41st Signal Company

First Lieutenant Antonio Gutierrez CO, Headquarters Service Troops
Captain Leon Nazareno CO, Headquarters Company
First Lieutenant Francisco Reyes CO, 41st Motor Company
First Lieutenant Ernesto Rufino CO, Quartermaster Service
Company
Captain Faustino Turla Veterinary Officer
Captain Saturnino del Rosario Finance Officer
Second Lieutenant Adriano Ballesteros Ordinance Officer

General's Personal Staff

Second Lieutenant Ernesto Santos Senior Aide

Third Lieutenant Bienvenido Rillo Junior Aide
Third Lieutenant Vidal Tan, Jr. Junior Aide

Officers of Service Units

Third Lieutenant Rigoberto Agustin

First Lieutenant Antonio Banta
Third Lieutenant Conrado Diez
Third Lieutenant Guillermo Antonio
Third Lieutenant Luis Gala
Third Lieutenant Luis Gaerlan Jr.
Third Lieutenant Galicano Luansing
Third Lieutenant Vicente Liwag
Second Lieutenant Zacarias Logan
Second Lieutenant Asistio Navarro
First Lieutenant Enrico Nazareno
First Lieutenant Maximiano Nuqui
First Lieutenant Adolfo Racasa
Third Lieutenant Jaime Saguindan
Third Lieutenant Jose Vargas
Second Lieutenant Jose Valdes

41st Engineer Battalion

Captain Rigoberto Atienza Commanding Officer

Second Lieutenant Cipriano de Leon Executive Officer

Battalion Staff

Second Lieutenant Gregorio Bejasa S-1

Second Lieutenant Cipriano Viloria S-2
Third Lieutenant Mariano Abella S-3
Third Lieutenant Esteban RosalesAssistant S-3
First Lieutenant Wiffrano Oreta S-4
First Lieutenant Conrado Mata Battalion Surgeon
First Lieutenant Manuel Galvez Assistant Surgeon
Second Lieutenant Inocencio Cruz Liaison Officer
First Lieutenant Saturnino Nolasco Dental Officer

Officers of the Battalion

First Lieutenant Romulo Alcasabas

Third Lieutenant Cecilio Asuncion
Second Lieutenant Joaquin Davila
Second Lieutenant Domingo Deacosta
Third Lieutenant Primitivo Dominguez
Second Lieutenant Simeon Fermin
Second Lieutenant Januario Frondoso
Third Lieutenant Eliodoro Habana
Third Lieutenant Fernando Jocson
Third Lieutenant Jaime Kamantique
Third Lieutenant Eugenio Palileo
Third Lieutenant Gregorio Rivera
Third Lieutenant Jose Valeriano
Third Lieutenant Jesus lbanez
Third Lieutenant Jose Opinaldo
 41st Medical Battalion

Major Hospicio Solidum Commanding Officer

First Lieutenant Miguel Flores Executive Officer

Battalion Staff

First Lieutenant Mariano Cardenas S1

First Lieutenant Cipriano ElizagaQue S2
First Lieutenant Gabriel Ladislao S3
Captain Alejandro Cortes S4
First Lieutenant Tomas Nazario Assistant S4

Officers

First Lieutenant Manrique Camus

First Lieutenant Ceferino Cayco
First Lieutenant Aguedo Celis
First Lieutenant Iluminado Cruz
First Lieutenant Jesus Duque
First Lieutenant Leonardo Kabigting
First Lieutenant Casiano de Leon
First Lieutenant Juan de Leon
First Lieutenant Pablo de Leon
First Lieutenant Sergio Mendoza
Second Lieutenant Angel Navarro
First Lieutenant Angel de Rama
First Lieutenant Felipe Roque
First Lieutenant Gregorio Samala
First Lieutenant Tahimik Sayoc
First Lieutenant Lorenzo Yuson

41st INFANTRY REGIMENT

Lieutenant Colonel Silvino Gallardo Regimental Commander

Captain Fidel Cruz Executive Officer

Regimental Staff

First Lieutenant Wenceslao Bayron S-1

Third Lieutenant Pacifico Agcaoili Assistant S-1
Second Lieutenant Demetrio Pozon S-2
Second Lieutenant Ramon Reyes S-3
Second Lieutenant Jose Guevarra Assistant S-3
Second Lieutenant Dominador Cuevas S-4
 Special Staff

First Lieutenant Pedro Lasig Chaplain

Captain Arternio Rocamora Headquarters Commandant

Battalion Commanders

Captain Jacobo Zobel Commanding Officer,

First Battalion
First Lieutenant Delfin Argao Commanding Officer,
Second Battalion
First Lieutenant Cornelio Mariano Commanding Officer,
Third Battalion

Officers of the Regiment

Third Lieutehant Simeon Abastilla

Third Lieutenant Francisco Aguila
Third Lieutenant Rigoberto Agustin
Third Lieutenant Bonifacio Alvarado
Third Lieutenant Domingo Alvarez
Third Lieutenant Bienvenido Asinas
Third Lieutenant Presciliano Barro
Third Lieutenant Leonardo Batanes
Third Lieutenant Artemio Bautista
Third Lieutenant Jeremias Bautista
Third Lieutenant Antonio Bello
Third Lieutenant Nicanor Bernabe
Second Lieutenant Henry Bernardino
Second Lieutenant Jose Borromeo
Third Lieutenant Benjamin Bueno
Third Lieutenant Nicolas Calanog
Third Lieutenant Virgilio Celis
Third Lieutenant Flaviano Cervantes
Third Lieutenant Gavino Colocado
Third Lieutenant Lino Cosico
Third Lieutenant Laureano Cosio
Second Lieutenant Pedro Cresencia
Third Lieutenant Alberto Cruz
First Lieutenant Primo Davila
Third Lieutenant Ramon Diaz
First Lieutenant Fidel Deluna
Third Lieutenant Jose Deona
Second Lieutenant Pedro Dimagiba
Third Lieutenant Andres Dimani
Third Lieutenant Gaugerico Dimaranan
First Lieutenant Alfredo Dimayuga
Third Lieutenant Federico Dioso
Third Lieutenant Pastor Escano
Third Lieutenant Angel Galang
Third Lieutenant Fernando Galves
First Lieutenant Benito Gongon
Thitd Lieutenant Feliciano Gonzales
Third Lieutenant Pablo Guinto
Third Lieutenant Sabas de Guzman
Third Lieutenant Salvador Habana
Second Lieutenant Lino Inciong
Third Lieutenant Claro Jeciel
Third Lieutenant Francisco Jocson
Third Lieutenant Federico Lapuz
Third Lieutenant David Laureaga
Third Lieutenant Eladio Lawas
First Lieutenant Jaime de Leon
Third Lieutenant Andres Liberato
Third Lieutenant Ruben Libunao
First Lieutenant Gregorio Limjuco
Third Lieutenant Fructuoso Luna
Third Lieuienant Medardo Malabanan
Third Lieutenant Modesto Maligalig
Third Lieutenant Macario Manginat
Third Lieutenant Vicente Manuel
Third Lieutenant Venerando Manzo
Third Lieutenant Jaime Marcelo
Third Lieutenant Mariano Ernesto
Second Lieutenant Gregorio Melegrito
Third Lieutenant Cornelio Melendres
Second Lieutenant Patricio Melga
Third Lieutenant Loreno Mendoza
Third Lieutenant Julian Mercado
Third Lieutenant George Mesa
Third Lieutenant Martin Navarro
Third Lieutenant Federico Orpilla
Third Lieutenant Limneo Platon
Third Lieutenant Mariano Paz
Third Lieutenant Alfredo Poblete
Third Lieutenant Generoso Quimpo
Third Lieutenant Gregorio Recio
Second Lieutenant Fidel Reyes
Third Lieutenant Abraham Samson
Third Lieutenant Miguel San Juan
Second Lieutenant Salvador Santos
Third Lieutenant Mariano Sealtiel
Third Lieutenant Nicolas Tafalio
Third Lieutenant Roberto Tamisin
Third Lieutenant Amado Tangul
Third Lieutenant Ricardo Velasco
Third Lieutenant Benjamin Villacruz
Third Lieutenant Luciano Yatco
Third Lieutenant Rafael Zagala
Third Lieutenant Jaime Zandueta
Third Lieutenant Jose Zuno

42nd INFANTRY REGIMENT

Lieutenant Colonel Claro Lizardo Regimental Commander

Captain Valentin Salgado Executive Officer

Regimental Staff

First Lieutenant Leandro Gaspar S-1

Second Lieutenant Teotimo Sevilla S-2
Second Lieutenant Felix Eusebio Assistant S-2
Second Lieutenant Jorge Barrenengoa S-3
Second Lieutenant Julio Leuterio S-4

Special Staff

Captain Geronimo Reyes Regimental Surgeon

First Lieutenant Jose Bautista Dental Officer
Captain Gerardo Dominguez Headquarters Commandant

Battalion Commanders

Captain Maximo Rodrigo Commanding Officer,

First Battalion
Captain Artemio Rillo Commanding Officer,
Second Battalion
Captain Amado Magtoto Commanding Officer,
Third Battalion

Officers of the Regiment

Third Lieutenant Mauro Ablana

Third Lieutenant Dalmacio Alvez
Third Lieutenant Alvin Balagtas
First Lieutenant Amado Balderama
Second Lieutenant Mario Buan
First Lieutenant Restituto Bumban
Third Lieutenant Manuel Cariño
Third Lieutenant Francisco Casanova
Third Lieutenant Marciano Dedal
Second Lieutenant Brigido Esquejo
Third Lieutenant Juan Fandialan
First Lieutenant Lucendro Galang
First Lieutenant Benjamin Garcia
Second Lieutenant Lucilo Garcia
Third Lieutenant Simeon Garcia
Second Lieutenant Mario Guinto
Third Lieutenant Ireneo Iturralde
Third Lieutenant Rogelio de Jesus
Second Lieutenant Alejandro Kamatay
Third Lieutenant Jose Lapinid
Third Lieutenant Francisco Macaraeg
Third Lieutenant Nicolas Malantic
Third Lieutenant Teodoro Mascardo
Third Lieutenant Perfecto Mendoza
Third Lieutenant Pedro Morales
Third Lieutenant Dalmacio Mulingtapang
Third Lieutenant Rustico Nazareno
Third Lieutenant Jose Nuñez
First Lieutenant Eugenio Pacifico
Third Lieutenant Raymundo Paredes
First Lieutenant Jose Paulino
First Lieutenant Benito Perez
Second Lieutenant Mariano Perlas
First Lieutenant Eufrenio Rodriguez
Third Lieutenant Felimon Salcedo
Third Lieutenant Jesus Samonte
Third Lieutenant Teofilo Salazar
Third Lieutenant Vidal Tan
Third Lieutenant Manuel Tolentino
Secorid Lieutenant Senador Valeriano
First Lieutenant Cresencio Villaflor
Third Lieutenant Julian Villena
Third Lieutenant Alfredo Vita

43rd INFANTRY REGIMENT

Lieutenant Colonel Emmanuel Baja Regimental Commander

First Lieutenant Jose Rodriguez Executive Officer & S1

Regimental Staff

Third Lieutenant Primitivo Ramirez S2

Third Lieutenant Antonio Encarnacion S3
First Lieutenant Florentino Buenaventura S4

Special Staff

Captain Jose Villacorta Regimental Surgeon

Captain Jose Pura Finance Officer
Captain Teodoro Vera Chaplain
First Lieutenant Jose Eleazar Dental Officer
Second Lieutenant Lucio Ledesma Signal Officer
Third Lieutenant Claro Cordero Gas Officer
Captain Rosendo Baltazar Headquarters Commandant

Battalion Commanders

First Lieutenant Salvador Kabigting Commanding Officer,

First Battalion
First Lieutenant Demetrio Mendoza Commanding Officer,
Second Battalion

Officers of the Regiment

Third Lieutenant Sofronio Alix

Second Lieutenant Eliseo Asistio
Third Lieutenant Bartolome Auditor
Third Lieutenant Benjamin Bacosa
Third Lieutenant Eulogio Balba
Third Lieutenant Melecio Balita
Second Lieutenant Juan Borbon
Second Lieutenant Antonio Castrillo
Second Lieutenant Manuel Collantes
Third Lieutenant Amado Cordova
Second Lieutenant Paterno Dagumbay
Third Lieutenant Ceferino Dans
Second Lieutenant Venancio Daquigon
First Lieutenant Anatalio de la Cruz
Second Lieutenant Ciceron de la Cruz
Second Lieutenant Celso Dimacali
Third Lieutenant Rosendo Dulay
Third Lieutenant Rosauro Eleazar
Third Lieutenant Gabriel Fokno
Second Lieutenant Domingo Gabitan
Third Lieutenant Roman Guico
Third Lieutenant Arsenio Guinto
Third Lieutenant Lucido Guinto
First Lieutenant Francisco Infantado
Second Lieutenant Gaudioso Ilem
Third Lieutenant Juan Inciong
Third Lieutenant Zoilo Jalandoni
Second Lieutenant Restituto de Jesus
First Lieutenant Augusto Kabigting
Third Lieutenant Eladio Llarena
First Lieutenant Indalecio Magsino
Third Lieutenant Bienvenido Mafialac
Third Lieutenant Virgilio Manalo
Third Lieutenant Benjamin Mangubat
Third Lieutenant Macario Manginat
Third Lieutenant Amado Mansano
Third Lieutenant Marcelino Morales
Third Lieutenant Maximo Novilla
Second Lieutenant Enrique Octavio
Third Lieutenant Benjamin Panaligan
Third Lieutenant Rafael Perez
Second Lieutenant Nestor Potenciano
Third Lieutenant Henry Powers
First Lieutenant Teofilo Rama
Second Lieutenant Conrado Ramirez
Third Lieutenant Salvador Ramirez
Third Lieutenant Policarpio Rodrigo
Third Lieutenant Jose Rubio
First Lieutenant Jose Villa Salud
Third Lieutenant Benjamin Santiago
Third Lieutenant Blas Selina
Second Lieutenant Projecto Setias
Second Lieutenant Amado Soriano
Third Lieutenant Jose Sulit
Third Lieutenant Roberto Taleon
First Lieutenant Manuel Tinio
Third Lieutenant Jose Toledo
Third Lieutenant Agripino Valderama
Third Lieutenant Alfredo Valando
First Lieutenant Jeremias Vinluan
Third Lieutenant Demetrio Yco

41st FIELD ARTILLERY REGIMENT

Lieutenant Colonel Arnado Martelino Regimental Commander

Captain Alfonso Arellano Executive Officer

Regimental Staff

Third Lieutenant German Wambangco S1

Second Lieutenant Ernesto de Leon S2
Third Lieutenant Mariano Robles S3
Third Lieutenant Manuel Reyes S4

Special Staff

Captain Felino Reyes Regimental Surgeon

Captain Vicente Bajar Dental Officer
Captain Jesus Viado Chaplain
Third Lieutenant Luis Rivera Jr. Motor Officer
Third Lieutenant Doroteo de Leon Ammunition Officer
Third Lieutenant Justo Rosales Reconnaissance Officer
Third Lieutenant Juan Medalla Chemical War Officer

Battalion Commanders

First Lieutenant Felipe Pilapil Commanding Officer,

First Battalion
Second Lieutenant Leandro Lonzame Commanding Officer,
Second Battalion
Second Lieutenant Marcelino Santos Commanding Officer,
Third Battalion

Officers of the Regiment

Third Lieutenant Lauro Albano

Third Lieutenant Pio Abarro
Second Lieutenant Jacinto Alejandro
Third Lieutenant Sixto Alhambra
Third Lieutenant Maurillo Almeda
Third Lieutenant Buenaventura Alvero
Third Lieutenant Francisco Ambas
Third Lieutenant Felipe Aurelio
Third Lieutenant Emiliano Balbago
First Lieutenant Jose Bayan
Third Lieutenant Benjamin Bayhon
Third Lieutenant Claro Bueno
Third Lieutenant Crispin Capinpin
First Lieutenant Hermenegildo Carifio
Third Lieutenant Francisco Crespo
Third Lieutenant Feliciano Cuevas
Third Lieutenant Buenaventura Fernandez
Third Lieutenant Jose Fragante
Third Lieutenant Pablo Francisco
Second Lieutenant Gaudencio Gaddi
Third Lieutenant Edilberto lbasco
Third Lieutenant Raul Inocencio
First Lieutenant Delfin Jaranilla Jr.
Third Lieutenant Marcial Lakandula
Third Lieutenant Deogracias de Leon
First Lieutenant Lorenzo Manzano
Third Lieutenant Lorenzo Mariano
First Lieutenant Arcadio Maturino
First Lieutenant Geminiano Montinola
Third Lieutenant Felimon Montoya
Third Lieutenant Ruben Montoya
Second Lieutenant Socrates Monzon
Third Lieutenant Bienveaido Parcero
First Lieutenant Felicisimo de la Peña
Third Lieutenant Emiliano Raquidan
Third Lieutenant Avelino Reyes
Third Lieutenant Clemente Rivera
Third Lieutenant Jose Rosales
Third Lieutenant Felipe Saavedra
Third Lieutenant Arturo Sorongon
Third Lieutenant Dominador Sorongon
Third Lieutenant Alfredo Teodoro

___________________
As of 8 December 1941
Index

ABCD powers, 4
Abeleda, Capt., 150, 155
AboAbo River, 53, 58, 93, 107
108
Absence Without Leave, 100, 103,
107
AWOL see Absence Without Leave
Abucay, 18, 23, 30, 33, 36, 49, 56,
64, 67, 69, 7682, 87, 9293,
106107, 110, 114, 122, 131,
133, 136, 138, 147, 150, 157,
176,180,186
Abucay Battle Line,34, 64
Advance Division Command Post, 13
Alcasabas, Capt., 179
Aleutians, 128
Allied territory in the Pacific, 66
American atrocities, 18, 98, 114
American Infantry Officer, 9
American lieutenant, 188
American plane, 67
American rule, 25
American soldiers, 2425, 115, 193
American(s), 25, 6061, 66, 114
115, 202, 205
America's war, 34
America's fight, 31
AntiAmerican propaganda, 113
Arellano, Maj., 143144, 179
Army War College, 9
Articles of War, 107
Artillery, 15, 76, 107, 143, 155,
171, 180
Batteries, 68
Definite targets, 107
Emplacement, 107
Field, 58
Shells, 107
Artillery Command Post, 162, 169
Artillery Regiment, 181
Arvisu, Sgt., 157
Asiatic peace, 4
Atimonan, 16
Enemy landings, 12
Atienza, Gen., 178
Atkinson, Col., 150
Atlantic, 66
Australia, 66, 128
Avenida Rizal, 19

Bagac Bay, 139, 141

Balagtas, Lt., 182, 187
Balanga, 5, 7, 26, 30, 33, 44, 67,
68, 70, 76, 77, 92, 106
Balayan, 2, 14, 21
Beaches, 8
Routes, 8
Balintawak, 118
Bangcal, 2728
Banta, Lt., 124
Barnett, Maj., 13
Barrenengoa, Capt., 150, 154, 158,
163, 165, 175, 176, 181
Bataan, 1314, 18, 22, 34, 36, 50,
69, 70, 74, 8487, 92, 105106,
114, 116119, 132133, 173,
203204, 207
Bataan, Battle of, 49, 206
Bataan Training Center, 26
Batangas, 12, 10, 13, 1517, 21,
24, 33, 67, 96, 119
Beaches, 6, 8, 11
Withdrawal from, 87
Battalion Aid Station, 39, 136
Battalion Command Post, 146
Battalion Reserve Line, 36, 38, 42,
56, 139, 160, 162
Battalion staff, 120
bolos, 20, 31, 108
Bonifacio, 131
Bosch, 12
BRL see Battalion Reserve line
buho, 7475, 154157
Bustamante, Cpl., 133, 134

Cabcaben, 202, 199

Airfield, 58
Calaca, 2
Calamba, 2
Calatagan, 78, 14
 Beaches, 8
Routes, 8
Caloocan, 114
Camouflages hangers, 5
Camp Keithly, Lanao, 10
Camp Murphy, 56, 20, 22
Campo., Maj., 10, 69, 128, 125,
177, 196
Canlubang Sugar Estate, 10
Capas, 104
Capinpin, Gen., 172
Capitangan, 67
Casanova, Lt., 112, 143, 182, 185, 188
Casey, Gen., 120
Catmon River, 75, 77, 81, 167
Catmon Trail, 168, 175, 179, 182, 193
Castillo, Capt., 136137, 171, 183
Cavite, 1011, 119
"Cease Firing", 53
China, 4, 61
China Sea, 26
Chinese campaign, 50
Chioco, Capt., 10, 34, 67, 7475, 96, 127
Chong, Capt., 10, 81, 125, 173
Christmas Day, 1941, 1417, 23, 26,72
Christmastime, 15
Clark Field, 5, 20, 68
Colorado, 115
Command Post, 33, 51, 5354, 58, 60, 6869, 74, 79, 81, 84, 106, 123124, 126128, 139, 147,
154, 157, 164,182, 199
Command Post of the 42nd Infantry, 150
Corps G2, 84, 92, 139
Corregidor, 85, 203
Crisol, Lt., 77
Cruz, Col., 154, 163164, 166, 168

Deacosta, Capt., 179

Del Pilar, 131
Distinguished Service Cross, 12,
138
dita, 122
"Ditalimina", 122
Division Command Post, 26, 33,
58, 81, 95, 123, 137, 147
Division Headquarters, 25
Division Inspector General, 13, 78
Division Observation Point, 107,
 111, 157
Division Reserve, 59, 78
Divisional Staff School
Baguio, 9, 96
Domaoal, Maj., 9, 13, 59, 6768,
72, 7475, 123, 126, 147, 154,
174, 178, 196
Donio, Cpl., 18, 39, 4041

Enfield, cal.30, 7
Enfields, 81
Engineer Battalion, 46, 7879
Engineers Command Post, 78
England, 4
Erlinda, 8586
Europe, 4
Executive Commission, 132
Executive Officer, 7879

Far Eastern Fleet, of,

America, 4
Britain, 4
China, 4
Dutch, 4
Federated Malay States, 12
Feria, Lt., 127
Filipino,
Common man, 2021
Common masses, 20
Lieutenant, 117
People, 20
Soldiers, 7, 20, 24, 34, 116, 119
"Filipino lugao", 107
Filipino(s)
21, 28, 61, 70, 109, 115, 116, 205
Fire Direction Center, 143
lst Battalion of the lst Infantry, 77,
79
lst Regular Division, 22, 36
41st Division, 8, 10, 13, 19, 2425,
33, 36, 57, 69, 120, 136, 146
41st Engineers, 4849, 68, 101
41st Engineer Battalion, 25, 78, 104
41st Engineers Camp, 78
41st Field Artillery Regiment, 3
41st Infantry, 5, 56, 77, 94, 111
41st Infantry of the 41st Division,
93
42nd Command Post, 181
42nd Infantry, 3, 5, 43, 111112,
138, 139, 144, 147, 157, 163
42nd Infantry Command Post, 82, 149, 153, 190
42nd Infantry Regiment, 33
42nd Infantry's Regimental Command Post, 180
42nd Regiment, 184
42nd Regimental Staff, 165
43rd Infantry, 3, 15, 111112, 136, 145, 147, 164, 181, 184
43rd Infantry Command Post, 42
43rd Infantry's Outpost Line of Resistance, 111
43rd Regiment, 111 51st Division, 33, 58
51st Engineers, 94
57th Infantry, 39, 46, 56, 187
Flashshaped foxhole, 6465 Formosa, 128
Fort McKinley, 6, 84
Fortier, Col., 5960, 115, 140, 153, 170, 175, 178, 180, 193, 196, 207
Fortune Island, 11
Foxholes, 13, 33, 38, 49, 57, 64, 66, 79
France, 4
Fraser, Maj., 99
Frondoso, Lt., 165

G2, 69, 77, 85

Headquarters, 92
Intelligence, 6
Men, 107
Reports, 50, 95
General Headquarters, 66
General Main Line of Resistance, 84
General Officers' School, 9
Gozar, 12
Grantland Rice, 202
Guagua, Pampanga, 22
GuaguaPorac line, 34
guinit, 7
guinit helmet, 20, 24, 64

Hacienda Abucay, 29, 33, 43, 57, 67

Hacienda Abucay Road, 24, 33, 46, 56, 69, 78
Hagonoy, 105106
Harriman index, 84
Harris, Lt., 3, 46
Heroism in Bataan, 41st Division, 134137
Holmes, Maj., 168
Homma, Gen., 92
Suicide, 92
HongKong, 128

lbañez, Lt., 187188

Ilong Castila, 1
Infantry School, 138
Interlude, 90

Jalandoni, Col., 195

Japanese, 20, 28, 70, 73, 83, 107, 109, 111115, 117119, 121, 129, 131, 137, 139, 150, 177,
194, 202203
Japanese
atrocities, 87
bombers, 12
bombing, 68
guns, 105s, cal., 27, 53, 139140
government, 21
landing boats, 7
mountain climbers, 30
navy, 66, 128
officer, 106, 209
patrol, 6, 97, 106, 109
pilot, 75
planes, 3, 11, 19, 21, 6768
propaganda, 114, 116, 122
soldiers, 28, 48, 76, 82, 8889, 103, 109110, 132, 134135, 144, 208209
Japanese Imperial Forces in the Philippines, 92
Johore, Straits of, 12
Jones, Capt., 181

Kalaw, Lt., 25, 2729, 118, 124125

Kapot, 93
Kassel, Sgt., 166
King, Gen., 203
Kra, Isthmus of, 12
Kramer, Capt., 150, 154, 158, 163
Kraut's Hotel, I
Kuala Lumpur, 12
kundiman, 61
Kurusu, 4

Laguna,10
Laguna de Bay, 1, 2
Lake Bombon, 4
Lake Taal, 13
Lamao River, 196
Lara, Lt., 124, 126, 191
Las Piñas, 18
Lemery, 2, 5, 11, 14
Leuterio, Capt., 153, 163, 176
Leuterio Command Post, 190
Lewis, Col, 170, 207
Liaison Officer, 13
Lim, Gen., 910, 13, 2526, 40, 46, 54, 5960, 6364, 66, 69, 72, 7475, 78, 8082, 91, 107, 120123,
127132, 146148, 157, 178, 180, 187, 193, 196, 203204, 209 Limay, 93
Limay trail, 75
Little Baguio, 200
Lizardo, Col., 150153, 157, 164, 170, 172176, 178, 180, 182184, 191193, 200 Looc, 5, 14
Louisiana, 12
Luneta, 115
Luzon, 8, 85
airfield, 5

Mabatang, 23, 15, 30, 43, 48, 58, 64

Mabatang Battle Line, 35
MabatangNatibMoron Line, 36
Mabatang Trail, 2526
MacArthur, Gen., 8, 12, 5950, 93, 96, 114, 131
MacDonald, Col., 154, 157158, 163164, 170, 181, 204
Macatangay, Sgt., 134135
Magtoto, Maj., 6876, 147, 150, 154, 158, 163164, 166, 190193
Main Line of Resistance, 2526, 33, 3639, 42, 51, 56, 63, 74, 79, 85, 96, 111, 117, 142, 146,
147, 153, 160
Malantic, Lt., 182, 187
Malaria, 121
Manila, 11, 14, 17, 19, 105106, 116, 132, 208,
Bay, 23, 25, 175
Hotel, 117
Open City, Jan. 1, 1942, 36
Manlimas, 12
Mariveles, 200
Mass, 15, 21, 23
Mata, Lt., 3
Mauban landing operations, 11
Mauban, Tayabas, 22, 36
Medical Aid, 70
Medical Corps, 100, 102103
Message Center, 59
Mindoro, 10
M L R see Main Line of Resistance
Mobilization, 3
41st Field Artillery Regiment, fully mobilized
41st Infantry, partly mobilized
42nd Infantry, fully mobilized
43rd Infantry, on paper
Mojica, 317318
Montelibano, Capt., 10
Montemayor, Capt., 10, 125
"Morale: Excellent", 104
Motor Pool, 74
Motor Transport Unit, 13
Mt. Mariveles, 192
Mt. Natib, 2529, 33, 35, 53, 58, 73
Mt. Samat, 63, 68, 71, 77, 93, 100, 107, 113, 179, 186, 191, 206
Line, 91
Last withdrawal, 66, 77

Nagahista, Gen., 94
Narvaez, Capt., 117, 123, 125, 130, 149
Nasugbu, 78
Beach, 18
Nasugbu, Batangas, 1314
Nasugbu, Bay, 5, 11
Nayda, 18
Negrito
Community, 27
Houses, 28
Negritoes, 77
New Line, Old trails, 72
New Year's Day, 1942, 33
Nichols Field, 56, 68
nipa, 192
nipa shacks, 23
Nomura, 4

Oboza, Col., 179

Official G2, reports, 83
Ojeda, Capt., 10, 13, 27, 2930, 33, 59, 7577, 8182, 111112, 117, 124128, 155, 157, 162, 172,
175176, 184, 187, 194, 196
Old Command Post, 168, 170
Old Negrito's war philosophy, 27, 30
Oreta, 5354
Orion, 105
Orion trail, 75
Ortega, Pvt., 113
Outpost Line of Resistance, 36, 39, 77, 80, 90, 100, 108, 111112, 138, 142, 145 reported no
enemy activity, 183

Padialan, Lt., 76
Pagbilao bridge, 12
Palawan, 10
Palico, 5, 8
Palileo, 186, 201
Pampanga, 19, 34
Pampagueñas, 22
Panciteria antiguas, 117
Panopio, Maj., 205
Parañaque, 6, 18, 36
Parker's headquarters, 13
parols, 15
Pasig, Rizal, 86
pasion, 149
Pearl Harbor, 34, 50, 66
bombed by Japanese, 3
Perez, Lt., 22
Philippine Army, 4, 54, 79, 91, 132, 138, 202
Corps of engineers, 5
Deputy chief of staff, 9
41st division, 2, 9
41st engineers of the 41st division, 3
training camps, 20
Philippine Army Headquarters, 109, 132
Philippine Constabulary, 9
Philippine Constabulary Division Headquarters, 199
Philippine Division, 5860
Philippine Islands, 8
Philippine hardwood, 24
Philippine revolution, 10
Philippine Scouts, 9, 25, 56
Philippine skies, 20, 82
Philippines, 4, 8, 2425, 28, 66, 113, 115, 119, 201, 203
falls, 66
Pierce, Col., 30
Pilar, 73, 105
PilarBagac Line, 93, 136, 138
PilarBagac Road, 63, 66
Pinkian River, 202
Primary Training planes, 12
"Piripino rugao" 107, 142
Plaza Goiti, 19
Plaza Lawton, 18
Post Office building, 18
pula, 23
Purple Heart, 77
puti, 23

Quartermaster of the Philippine Army Headquarters, 207

Quezon Pres., 96, 132
Quiamson, Maj., 17

Real River, 199

Rear Command Post, 59
Regimental Command Post, 167, 168, L71
Regimental Executive Officer, 148
Regimental Reserve Line, 46, 56, 139140, 142, 153154, 156, 160161,164
Regimental staff, 120
Remember Erlinda, 81, 8586, 94
Remember Erlinda propaganda, 85
Retreat, 69
Retreat to Samat, 63
Reyes, Capt., 193
Rillo, Lt., 40, 150, 154, 158, 163, 164, 166, 178
Rizal, 10, 18, 115, 131
Romulo, Col., 120
Roosevelt, Pres., 4, 115
Roxas, Gen., 120
RRL see Regimental Reserve Line
Rufino, Capt., 193
Russia, 4

Sabayan, River, 56
Saint, Capt., 33
"Sakura Hei", 85
Salakot, 118
Salazar, Col., 150, 154, 157158, 163164, 168
Salgado, Col., 152, 154, 156, 163, 170, 174175, 180181, 192193, 207208
Salian, 25, 87, 106107
Samar, 114
Samurai, 4041
San Fernando, Pampanga, 2223
San Pablo, 12
Santa Cruz bridge, 19
Santiago Point, 5, 11
Santos, Lt., 63, 124, 126, 149
Sariaya, 12
Scare tactics, 5051
School for Reserve Commission, 10
See You in Manila, 109110
Sevilla, Lt., 150, 164165, 176, 191, 200
Shipping lanes to Australia, 66
Signal Company Commander, 118
Signal Message Center, 58
Silang, 2, 17, 204
Singapore, 128
Sniper Patrol Company, 98
Snipers, 48
Solidum, Maj., 10, 126
Southern Luzon, 13, 35
Spain, 25
Tyranny of, 20
Spaniards, 115
Spanish rule, 2425
Standard Operating Procedure, 81
Steele, Col., 59
Stotsenberg, 5
Subic, 139

Taal Vista Lodge, 1

Taal volcano, I
Tagalog(s), 2728
Tagaytay, 13, 1617, 77, 96, 138, 150, 208
Cantonement area, 3, 17
Talisay, 1
Tan, Lt., 123124, 191
Tarlac, 34
Tayabas
Beaches, 36
3rd Battalion, 147, 149
31st Infantry, 25, 33, 35, 53, 59
33rd Infantry, 170
Tiaong, 12
Tiawer River, 73, 79, 8182, 1123,
147,158
Tightening Defenses, 90
Ticket to Surrender (leaflet), 118-119
Tinio, Lt., 3, 25, 4849, 5354, 126, 130, 179, 200202
Torres, Maj., 194
Triangulation Point, 26
Training Regulations, 111
21st Infantry, 49

United States, 25, 66

Army, 9, 33, 56, 85
Finance officer, 132
Declaration of war, 50
Navy, 66
Treasury warrant, 132
United States Armed Forces in the Far East, 9, 12, 36, 50, 56, 78, 84, 91, 106, 114, 116117,
119, 123, 132, 181, 203
United States Military Academy West Point, 9
USAFFE see United States Armed Forces in the Far East
USFIP see U.S. Forces in the Philippines
U.S. Army War Department Map, Bataan area, 84
U.S. Forces in the Philippines, 141
U.S. War Dept. Scale 1:20, 000
Topographic Map, 84

Valdez, Gen., 120

Valeriano, Lt., 182185
Verbatim, 85
Verde Island Passage, 5, 11
Villacorta, Capt., 122
Villamor, Jesse, 12
Villaluz, Col., 179
Villanueva, Sgt., 124
"Voice of Freedom", 85
Volunteer, 13

Wainwright, Gen., 123, 128, 132, 141, 152

War Comes to the Philippines, 3
War Plans Division, 9
Webb, Capt., 63
West Point, 9
William, 70

Zablan Field, 5, 12
Zobel, Capt., 79