Below is his short autobiography, written many years ago. He had a sharp mind till the end. He was the one who introduced me to the Bible. He was always curious about spirituality and I remember him taking us from one church to another. He finally found his "home church" in a small church plant where I attended Sunday School for the first time. I will forever be thankful to him for not accepting the religion of the masses, but looked for the truth on his own. I'm glad he found it in the Bible, which has changed so many lives in our family.
I SURVIVED THE BATAAN DEATH MARCH
AND CONCENTRATION CAMP
by MGM
Originally Written on 24 June 1997
Revised on 10 November 2008 and 11 October 2010
I began my first military training in the Philippine Army between 1939 and 1940. Then I enlisted in the 12th
Signal Company, Philippine Scouts (Army of the United States) at Fort
William McKinley on February 1941. After the
recruiting period, I was promoted and acted as a specialist. Together
with five company mates acting as a team, we were put on a special
detail, at Fort Stotsenberg, We were assigned as
switchboard operators.
Several
months later, the Japanese Air Force suddenly sneaked into, and
attacked, Pearl Harbor in Hawaii, USA, and then bombed Nichols Field and
Clark Air Base in Pampanga, Philippines. World War II began.
Our
team was assigned in the First Philippine Corps under the direct
command of Commanding General Wainwright. In the
midst of intense fighting and bombings, we forwarded to Pampanga,
and stayed four or five days, then proceeded to a town in Tarlac.
After two days, we went to Alcala, Pangasinan, and stayed there longer.
After that, we retreated to our last stand, Bagac, Bataan.
Then
the surrender was announced. We heard thunderous noises and explosions
all over on the eve of the surrender. We later learned that the USAFFE
destroyed and demolished all the war armaments and materials so that it
will not fall into Japanese hands.
On
April 9, 1942, we (Filipino and American soldiers) surrendered.
Thereafter, we all became prisoners of war. We were then transported
and converged at Mariveles, Bataan. The following day, April 10, around
9:00 a.m., we began the infamous Death March to San Fernando, Pampanga,
which is about 120 miles. During the march, any troops who fell behind
were executed. The Japanese soldiers randomly beat the prisoners, and
denied them food and water for many days. One of their tortures was
known as the sun treatment. The month of April in the Philippines is
one of the hottest months. Therefore, the prisoners were forced to sit
in the sun without any shade or water and anyone who dared ask for water
was immediately executed. On rare occasion when they were given any
food, it was only a handful of contaminated rice.
With
feelings of uncertainty, coupled with apprehension and anxiety, I
marched with hundreds of prisoners of war. We marched continuously for
days, with no water, no food, and in the intense summer heat. There
were numerous American GIs – I do not recall the precise number, but I
believe there were thousands of Filipino and American GIs. There were
hundreds of Japanese soldiers; a few of them rode the bikes; some of
them carried a long horse whip which they used to beat the marching
soldiers, especially the weak and the disabled, mainly aimed towards the
American GIs who were not used to the intense heat, the lack of food
and water and fatigue.
On
several occasions, I had painfully witnessed Japanese soldiers beat on
American GIs without any provocation. Any prisoner who lagged behind
the line was either shot or bayoneted. Some comrades, both Filipinos
and Americans, were just too sick to go on, fell and were bayoneted to
death, some were forced to dig their own graves. We then decided to
march shoulder to shoulder to assist the more feeble comrades, mostly
American GIs. At night, we slept where we were allowed to stop. (When
the prisoners were allowed to sleep for a few hours at night, they were
packed into tight enclosures that they could barely move. Those who
survived collapsed on the dead bodies of their fellow prisoners.)
Despite my thirst, hunger and total physical exhaustion, I felt strong,
mentally and emotionally.
When
we reached the town of Guagua, Pampanga, we were allowed to drink from
the faucets along the roadside. For the first time in days, I tasted
the cool, refreshing, sweet water. I had never appreciated water as I
did then – it just felt good and satisfying.
When
we reached another town, civilians tried to offer us food. Although
the Japanese soldiers prevented them from doing so, somehow some of them
did manage to give us panochita (sweets made of sugar can). We grabbed
them like hungry dogs. I was able to grasp about two pieces which
provided a much-needed nourishment. Then we reached a sugar plantation
with tall sugar canes. We were allowed to gather some. I managed to
get a little piece and ran back in line for fear of being reprimanded
and consequently beaten up.
From
the day of surrender, the prisoners of war would be harshly beaten and
killed for the slightest or no reason at all. Even officer status did
not provide protection. First the troops were searched. Any prisoner
found with Japanese souvenirs was executed immediately, because the
Japanese believed the soldier must have killed a Japanese soldier in
order to get it. Many soldiers had found these items, such as money and
shaving mirrors. Their own personal property was usually stolen as well.
After
several days of marching, we reached San Fernando, Pampanga. We were
then ushered to the railroad station and loaded into a packed caboose
like the proverbial sardines. I stayed near the door of the caboose so
as to be able to get a little bit of air. We all felt sick; some were
very weak from hunger and physical exhaustion; others were dying. For
only a brief part of the march would prisoners be packed into railroad
cars and allowed to ride. Those who did not die in the suffocating
boxcars were forced to march about seven more miles until they reached
their camp.
When
we reached Capas, Tarlac, we rested for about half an hour, and then
began the trek to the concentration camp, Camp O’Donnell, about eight
miles. It took the prisoners over a week to reach their destination.
At
the camp, we were allowed to rest for a little while. One of the
Japanese officers tried to communicate with us in broken English and
managed to tell us what we were supposed to do. They had us classified
into groups, I think about ten in all. I belonged to Group 8.
We
were then sent to our barracks, an elongated hut made of bamboo and
nipa (coconut) leaves. We were not fed for a few days; many died in
delirium, moaning and uttering the names of their loved ones until their
last breath. Those who died were then piled in front of our barracks.
The air was polluted with foul odor; the sight was unbelievably
pathetic and unbearable; it almost felt like hell itself.
Although
some of the wealthy citizens in the town donated medicine, rice, sugar,
salt and some animals, such as carabaos, pigs, and chickens, for our
consumption, we were only provided with a handful of rice and salty
soup, with no meat, once a day. The officers who were in charge were
corrupt, heartless, self-serving and selfish, almost like no conscience
at all. The dying continued -– almost 300 or more Filipinos and American
soldiers died everyday.
We
were all assigned duties around the Camp. One of the unpleasant duties
I was assigned to was the burial detail. My partner and I wrapped
corpses with Army official blankets, strapped them on a bamboo poles,
and carried them on our shoulders to the cemetery which was two long
blocks or more away from our Camp. In a common grove, 25 dead were
piled sideways to accommodate more. It was sickening.
All
of these, tripped with fear and trepidation of what the future might
hold and the lack of nutrition, made me physically weaker; but,
surprisingly, my willpower to live had never been stronger. One thing
we never forgot to do was to pray. There were quite a bit of us who
felt that the Hand of the Almighty was upon us and somehow believed that
we would get through it all. I was right. the Lord never abandoned
me.
I
was also assigned doing various duties like cutting grass, hauling
water from the well to the Camp, and repairing buildings around the Camp
gate. Then, one day, I found out that the Commanding Officer of Group 1
was my first cousin, Col. Dumlao. I approached him and
requested that I be transferred to his Group. He assigned me to
kitchen patrol. For the first time in months, I had enough food to eat,
although the menu was the same once a day – rice and soup. I was also
able to take a bath for the first time since I was incarcerated. It
felt refreshingly good.
On
the fifth month, we finally heard the best news that a prisoner of war
could possibly hear. The enemy was releasing some of the prisoners. At
about the middle of August, my cousin, Col. Dumlao, sent for me and
informed me that he was to be released soon. He said that the sick and
the bedridden were being released first, but that I should not worry
because I would be included in the second batch. He then talked to his
junior officer, Maj. Maranon, and asked him to take care of me.
On
August 30, 1942, almost five months later, I was freed at last. There
were not enough words that could have expressed my elation and relief.
The night before I was released, I was told that I had to memorize some
Japanese verses, and that I better be prepared to answer twenty
questions or more. I stayed up all night learning how to count in
Japanese, and memorized Japanese phrases. I was able to answer their
questions, and was allowed to leave the Camp – which was hell for
hundreds of us for almost five months.
When
I was finally released, I was emaciated, malnourished, afflicted with
malaria, ulcer and other stomach problems, but I was alive and felt very
blessed that God Almighty allowed me to survive the ordeal, married,
and raised a family. This experience confirmed my belief in the
greatness of Our God.
Although
it was a day of celebration for us, it was sad to note that some of the
prisoners did not even make it to the City. Somehow the sight of food
was just too much temptation, and instead of taking it slowly, they ate
in a hurry and ate much until they passed out and died.
When
I reached the City of Manila, I was treated at the Philippine General
Hospital. It took some months before I regained my strength. When I
felt stronger, I joined the ROTC Guerilla. When Liberation from the
Japanese came, I reported to the U.S. Army Military Control, reenlisted,
and served until I was honorably discharged on June 30, 1946.
I
do not know how I survived the war and its atrocities, but I did. The
Lord had plans for me and I want to thank Him for sustaining me. I
would also like to thank my cousin (who has passed away) who helped me,
and for the numerous and countless comrades to whom I shared the most
difficult and harrowing experience of my life. Most of them perished. I
honorably and respectfully salute them!!
After
the war, I took advantage of the U.S. GI Bill of Rights, pursued a
college as a teacher, and graduated in March 1950. While in my third
year in college, I fell in love and married.
My
wife, who passed away in July of 2008, and I were married for 60
years. We are blessed with seven children (one boy died at age 3) and
raised six (5 girls and one boy). They are all wonderful, healthy and
intelligent children, pursued their college education and their
respective careers, some of whom decided to become stay-home mothers and
raised their children. My youngest daughter graduated from the
University of the Philippines with a degree in education, and by the
Grace of God was able to start her own school. I have seven
grandchildren. The oldest grandchild graduated from UCLA
in Los Angeles, California. She and her
husband and three daughters (my great granddaughters) are serving the Lord in Croatia,
Europe.
Two
granddaughters are nurses; two are teachers; one majored in computers; the second to the youngest is in college studying to be an architect; and, the youngest is
in high school. I
would like to continue to thank my children and grandchildren for
making my life complete. I am a born-again christian, so I am ready to meet my Creator and Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.
Thank
you LORD for everything! I am truly blessed that You have allowed me
to go this far; it has been a great earthly journey. With contentment
and peace of mind, I am enjoying my life now with my loved ones. I am
ready to go home to my mansion you have prepared for me to be with You
forever and ever!
For
God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten son that
whosoever believed on Him should not perish but have everlasting life. John 3:16.
