Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Historical Monuments
Historical Monuments
Historical Monuments
GROUP 6
MEMBERS:
OLEGARIO, ELLYNNE
Policy makers realized that Manila, which would serve as the nation’s front door to the
business markets of China, India and Malaya, needed a face-lift to help attract industry and reflect
America’s growing global status. To spearhead that transformation, the U.S. recruited famed
architect and municipal planner Daniel Burnham, who over the course of his career helped cities
such as Chicago, San Francisco and Cleveland. He oversaw the renovation of the National Mall in
Washington and designed Union Station. Burnham saw great potential in Manila with its vast
natural resources, old Spanish churches and the ancient walled city of Intramuros, the 160-acre
historic heart of Manila, built soon after the city’s founding in 1571.
“Possessing the bay of Naples, the winding river of Paris, and the canals of Venice,”
Burnham wrote in his plan, “Manila has before it an opportunity unique in the history of modern
times, the opportunity to create a unified city equal to the greatest of the Western World with the
unparalleled and priceless addition of a tropical setting.”
In the four decades leading up to World War II, Manila developed into a small slice of
America, home not only to thousands of U.S. service members, but also employees of companies
like General Electric, Del Monte and B.F. Goodrich. Often called the Pearl of the Orient, the city
boasted a great quality of life with department stores and social clubs, golf courses and swimming
pools. “Manila is by far the most beautiful of all cities in the Orient,” declared the New York Times
in 1932. “From the top of the University Club it seems half hidden in a canopy of trees, green
everywhere, a city within a park.”
On the eve of World War II, one of Manila’s most prominent residents was none other than
Gen. Douglas MacArthur, who lived with his wife and four-year-old son in the penthouse atop the
luxurious Manila Hotel. Like his father, Douglas MacArthur’s life was intertwined with the
Philippines, where he had served often throughout his career. “In this city,” he once said, “my
mother had died, my wife had been courted, my son had been born.” For MacArthur, the son of a
career officer who had spent his life pinballing around the world, Manila was the closest thing he
had to a hometown. More than just the MacArthur’s enjoyed it. “To live in Manila in 1941,”
remembered CBS news correspondent Bill Dunn, “was to experience the good life.”
But the good life ended on Dec. 7, 1941, when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and
invaded the Philippines, launching the United States into war. Hoping to avoid a bloody battle in
the capital, MacArthur declared Manila an Open City and evacuated his forces to Bataan and the
fortified island of Corregidor. For MacArthur, this was far more than just a strategic retreat. He
was abandoning his home, forced to reduce his entire life into the contents of two suitcases.
Japanese troops fanned out through the capital in January 1942, rounding up the thousands
of American civilians and interning them at the University of Santo Tomas, a 50-acre school just
north of the Pasig River. MacArthur endured 77 days in the tunnels of Corregidor, before escaping
under the cover of darkness on March 11, 1942, in a torpedo boat with his family and staff. For
the general, it was an agonizing event, forced to leave behind thousands of Filipino and American
soldiers, troops who had trusted him and would soon face the Death March followed by years in
Japan’s notorious prisoner of war camps. Upon reaching Australia, MacArthur made a public vow:
“I shall return.” That promise would drive him as the days turned to weeks and then years.
Between Japanese demolitions and American artillery, Manila was being destroyed from
the inside and out. Men, women and children retreated below ground, where conditions inside
cramped air raid shelters deteriorated as the hours turned to days. Bunkers built to house a single
family at times held multiple. With so many bodies pressed together, the air inside stagnated and
the heat soared. Austrian Hans Steiner, in a letter to his mother, recounted his experience. “We
lived like dogs,” he wrote. “All around us there were fires and explosions; it was the best
imagination of hell one could get.” In his diary, Santo Tomas internee Robert Wygle described the
parade of wounded who came to the university in search of help. “They are so far beyond
recognition that, in many cases, one can’t tell whether they are men or women, boys or girls, dead
or alive.”
On March 3rd 1945, 29 days after American troops rolled into the city, the Battle of Manila
finally ended. The fight to retake the Philippine capital had resulted in the deaths of 16,665
Japanese, the near total destruction of Admiral Iwabuchi’s forces. In contrast, MacArthur’s men
suffered 1,010 killed and another 5,565 wounded.
Civilians bore brunt of the horror with an estimated 100,000 killed, many of those
slaughtered by the Japanese. The dead were often so disfigured that relatives had to identify them
through clothes, cigarette cases and key chains.
Those who found remains were the lucky ones. Others would have no resolution, a
sentiment best captured in a letter by Santo Tomas internee John Osborn. “With a heavy heart full
of pity, I have, during these recent days and weeks, observed the searchers, the seekers after lost
loved ones. Daily have they gone out the España Gate hoping to find some trace of relative or
friend to change the dreadful uncertainty to certainty, though it be the certainty of death. First they
visit the site of the old home, now probably but a heap of ashes and broken walls. Then to the
homes of relatives and friends for news of the lost. Finally they just walk the streets looking at the
dead, who are today numerous.”
Over the city of Manila hung the awful stench of the dead. Worse than the smell,
remembered Major Chunk Henne, was the taste of death, which settled on the tongue. “No amount
of spitting,” he recalled, “could clear it away.”
The battle for Manila had destroyed 613 city blocks, an area containing 11,000 buildings,
ranging from banks and schools to churches and houses. More than 200,000 residents were left
homeless. Beyond the structural losses, were the cultural ones, from historic churches and museum
paintings and statues to priceless literary works. And, of course, the economy was in shambles, a
condition best described by A.V.H. Hartendorp: “The manager of one of the Manila oil companies,
in speaking of the rebuilding of his plant, stated that he would have to begin again at the beginning
with a land survey.”
Amid this sea of destruction, MacArthur returned to the Manila Hotel to find his home in
ruins. Gone was his vast personal library, his father’s Civil War mementos, his son Arthur’s baby
book, a loss that crushed Jean MacArthur. “You wanted to know about my apartment at the hotel,”
she wrote in a letter to a friend. “Of that, as well as everything else almost that I know in Manila
is gone.”
Nearly a half century after the battle, survivors formed an organization, the Memorare
Manila 1945 Foundation, dedicated to preserving the story of the civilian sacrifices during the
city’s liberation. To memorialize those killed, the organization erected a statue in Intramuros of a
weeping mother cradling a dead infant, surrounded by other dead or dying figures. The inscription
provides a powerful epitaph: “This memorial is dedicated to all those innocent victims of war,
many of whom went nameless and unknown to a common grave, or never even knew a grave at
all, their bodies having been consumed by fire or crushed to dust beneath the rubble of ruins,” the
inscription reads. “Let this monument be the gravestone for each and every one.”
The monument was unveiled on February 18, 1995. It is located at the center of Intramuros,
in Plaza de Sta. Isabel at the corner of General Luna and Anda Streets. It was constructed mainly
through the efforts of the Memorare Manila 1945 Foundation Inc., a private, non-profit
organization founded by the civilian survivors of the Battle of Manila and their descendants.
LAWS
There were no laws implemented nor in relation to the Memorare Manila 1945.