Liberation from Internment
“Come and see the works of God: he is terrible in his doing toward the children of men.” (Psa. 66:5)
One day some duty, which I have now forgotten, took me to the gymnasium
in the lower part of the camp. A large number of men were
billeted there and on a cupboard beside one man’s cot these words were
written:
“Sept. 20 – Worst slop I ever tasted.
Sept. 21 – Sweetest music I ever heard.”
The sweet music was not the strains of some symphony orchestra nor the
march of a military band. That morning we heard the distant hum
of a flight of bombers. In the clear sky and bright sunshine we
spotted them away off in the distance, like a swarm of flies.
Later there was the boom of bombs bursting in the distance. There
was no doubt as to whose side they were on. To the dismay of the
Japanese guards, the internees cheered in the excitement of the first
sign of returning Americans. MacArthur’s famous words were
becoming a reality, “I shall return.”
They were just a day late for our 22nd wedding anniversary! That
evening as we sat outside our barracks and talked about the day’s
event, there was a brilliant flash of light. A few seconds later
the sound of a terrific explosion reached our ears. Someone had
the presence of mind to count the lapse between the flash and the sound
and calculated it would have been somewhere near Manila. We were
not sure whether it was an ammunition ship in the Bay or some large
ammunition dump.
Later on whenever American planes were spotted, the internees showed
their joy by waving, not handkerchiefs but sheets. This was very
annoying to the guards. Some internees were slapped for
this. So orders went out that whenever the air-raid alarm
sounded, all should go immediately to their barracks and remain there
until the “All Clear” sounded. This didn’t make too much
difference because by the time our camp authorities got the official
word of an air raid, it was almost over!
The food situation was steadily deteriorating and becoming more
critical. It was learned that the Japanese had a quantity of rice
stored in a bodega as a reserve for future emergency. The
Japanese guards had evidently been helping themselves and could not be
depended on. So the Commandant asked the camp committee to
provide men to guard the bodega, preferably missionaries. So
there arose the ironical situation of internees guarding the supplies
of which they were being deprived!
With blackouts every night, the evenings were spent by groups of people
conversing together. The favorite topic? Food! What’s
the first thing you want to eat when we are liberated? All kinds
of recipes were concocted and exchanged. Another topic was the
progress of the war. Where would MacArthur make his first
landings? In Santo Tomas Camp in Manila that was subtly announced
over the loudspeaker. A well known news announcer had evaded the
Japanese by using his real name instead of his radio name. He
announced the work details each evening. One evening he
concluded, “Don’t be late! But better Layte than never.”
What did the future hold for us? We weren’t even sure what was
happening in the present, let alone the future. Air activity was
increasing. Troop movements in the night were heard. Our
loved ones at home, scanning the newspaper, listening to the radio,
probably knew more about the war than we who were right in the midst of
it!
Everyone was speculating on the strategy of MacArthur. Americans
had landed on Mindoro and established an airbase at San Jose.
What seemed likely to us was the Luzon landing would be in Batangas to
approach Manila from the south. It seemed the Japanese had the
same idea for at night we heard traffic moving south. If this
should be the strategy we might expect an early rescue!
On January 7 in the small hours of the morning we woke up realizing
that there seemed to be unusual activity in the building where the
Japanese stayed, near the gate. Some of the American committee
were called to hand over records. The commandant and his staff
left before daylight. They told the committee that we would be on
our own. However, since there were thousands of Japanese troops
in the surrounding area, we should stay in the camp. At daybreak
the Stars and Stripes and Union Jack were hoisted on bamboo
poles. Someone borrowed Ken’s trumpet to play the national
anthems while everyone stood and saluted. That evening over the
loudspeaker we listed to some news—the Americans had landed at Lingayen
Gulf and were pushing south towards Manila. We even heard
President Roosevelt speaking from Washington.
We soon realized that in our excitement we were acting unwisely.
With Japanese troops in the vicinity it would be wise not to attract
their attention. After that, news reports were passed out more
discreetly. The Filipinos around soon learned that the Japanese
had left and began bringing in supplies. Promissory notes to be
redeemed after liberation were readily accepted. Immediately
there were three meals a day instead of two, more variety, and more
quantity. There is no doubt that this was of the Lord to
strengthen us for days ahead. With more food we got stronger and
instead of struggling around listlessly we felt like putting a little
more zip in our step. The committee opened the bodega and
distributed the rice, a quantity to each individual. There were
two purposes for this action. One, they feared that if the troops
heard about that store of rice they would confiscate it. Second,
it was to be kept by each family as a reserve in case of future
shortage. Another life-saving provision for many of us.
After six days, the Japanese staff returned, much to our dismay.
They evidently lost face and were no doubt reprimanded for leaving
us. Their strict and oppressive attitude was an indication of
this. One internee had sneaked out in the night to get food and
was crawling back under the fence. Apparently he misunderstood
the signals of his buddy on the inside because he was seen by the
guards and shot. For some hours the committee argued with the
Japanese about bringing this man to the hospital for treatment.
When the commandant gave consent it was too late—the man was
dead. Another man was shot on the suspicion of trying to escape.
The news that had circulated in the camp convinced the Japanese that a
radio was hidden in the camp. They cut off the electricity (that
was before transistors and battery operated radios). Dr. Nance at
the hospital demanded that they have electricity there to preserve what
few medicines remained. Actually the radio was there too!
One day we were ordered to leave our barracks and line up on the
road. For hours we stood in the hot sun while the guards began to
search our quarters. The internees remonstrated that they should
not search our rooms while we were not there. Finally, they had
to give in because many of us simply returned to our barracks.
The Japanese were told they could go ahead with their search but we
would stand outside and watch. Actually it was a bit amusing to
watch. The partitions were of “sawali” (woven bamboo split very
thin). The guard lifted a homemade paper motto to see what was
behind it! Nothing but the thin partition!
There were further cuts in the rations. People were dying of
starvation. It was necessary to give some men a bit extra so they
would have strength to dig graves. Twice I served as a
pallbearer— the simple coffin was carried to the grave on a small
handcart used to haul garbage! One for whom I thus served was an
elderly Presbyterian missionary, Mr. Blair, who had spent many years in
Korea and was caught in Manila by the exigency of war. The other
was Dr. MacGill, also a Presbyterian who had served in Lucena and had
done a great deal in the revision of the Tagalog Bible. Another
old friend for whom I acted as pallbearer was Leslie Wolfe of the
Disciples, Church of Christ. He was also a Tagalog scholar and
died a few days after we were liberated.
Increased war activity all around us convinced us that the situation
was very critical. It was reported that American forces entered
Manila on February 3, 1945, and headed directly for Santo Tomas
Camp. Unfortunately, after their liberation, the Japanese shelled
those university buildings and some were killed and others
wounded. From our camp we could see towns burning. The
Japanese were furious that after all their propaganda the Filipinos
still were welcoming the returning Americans.
Finally, the Japanese said that no more rice was available and we were
given a final ration of “palay” (unhusked rice). Our doctors
warned us not to eat it without removing the husks. With the
delicate condition of our stomachs it would probably be fatal.
Was that what our enemies hoped? There being no rice mill people
tried various ways of removing the husks. We took small blocks of
wood and rubbed these vigorously over the “palay” on a rough table and
then fanned away the chaff. It took most of the day to prepare
enough rice for the day. Clearly it was time to begin using the
reserves which had previously been issued to us. One dear sister,
an elderly missionary with a small appetite brought some of her rice to
us. She wasn’t so optimistic about the return of the Americans
and felt we were unwise in using up our supply. However, the Lord
had showed her she should share with us.
The afternoon of February 22 a number of missionaries felt the
emergency called for a special time of prayer. Food supplies were
almost exhausted. In our family there was just enough for two
more meager meals the following day. After that, what would we
do? Trust the Lord, for our times are in His hands. Shortly
after the prayer meeting, our hearts were cheered by the sight of U.S.
bombers attacking places around the camp. We could actually see
the bombs falling from the planes. Waking up during the night, it
seemed quieter than usual—what could that mean? While we
recognized the possibility that we would not get out of that experience
alive, we didn’t really think that would happen. We were
confident that the Lord would take care of us, and rested on His
promises that He would deliver us.
At dawn on the 23rd of February we were up to get a fire going under a
tin can in which was half of our remaining rice. We could get
that going before roll call at seven o’clock when we would all line up
on the road to be counted. However, word came that roll call
would be later that morning. After our rescue we heard that the
Japanese had plans to turn machine guns on us when we lined up for roll
call. One or two of the internees had managed to slip out of the
camp a day or two before. Through contact with Filipino guerillas
they got in touch with MacArthur’s headquarters about the desperate
plight in the camp.
Just about seven o’clock planes flew over the camp and something was
falling from them. First thought—they are dropping food
supplies. But no—those are paratroopers. Then what
excitement! One of the planes, after dropping his load, swung low
over the camp and on the fuselage in big letters we saw “RESCUE.”
A couple of years later when I told this story in the southern U.S. an
ex-G.I. came to me after the service and told me he was the one who
painted that word. He was ordered to paint the word but never
knew until that evening which rescue it was.
Then everything broke loose! Excitement made us oblivious of the
danger from flying bullets. Len dashed in and said, “Put the rest
of the rice in that pot!” We crouched low and fanned the little
fire. Being police deputies Ken and I were ordered to go through
the barracks and tell people to lie down in their barracks. It
was an exercise in futility—people laughed at us! Anna and Rose
ran hand in hand to the front of the barracks to see an American
soldier. We didn’t know they were called G.I.’s or why. One
of them shouted, “Get in there and lie down, you are flirting with
death!” An old man in a neighboring barracks patted a machine
gunner on the back and cheered him on.
Guerillas cut the barbed wire fences and poured in from all
sides. The paratroopers’ jump was their signal for action.
The Japanese were about to take their usual morning physical exercises,
arms piled at the side. They didn’t have a chance to fight nor to
escape. As we hurriedly ate our rice, amphibious tanks were
rolling into the camp. They had come across Lake Laguna de
Bay. They were supposed to evacuate the women and children, but
men too climbed aboard. Our barracks monitor tried to preserve
some semblance of order, but that only delayed us from getting on to
the tanks.
Grabbing a suitcase each we went to an open area; and I tried to
persuade Anna and Rose to climb aboard, but they wanted us to all stay
together. The soldiers shouted “Women and children only!” but
when I saw priests in their robes climbing on I was disgusted.
Perhaps their robes qualified them! A newsman got hold of Ken,
got his name, and the name of his grandmother in Buffalo. She
would be notified. Ken told him about the rest of us, but the
news report only mentioned Ken. So for ten days Anna’s folks
thought that only Ken was left alive.
We were told to start walking out of the camp. A G.I. threw us a
chocolate bar which we shared among the five of us. How good it
tasted! Along the road Filipinos gave us some bananas and raw
eggs which we ate as we trudged along. Some people too tired to
carry anything just left suitcases on the side of the road. There
was a typewriter sitting there! An officer urged us on, “Please
try to hurry!” He took my suitcase and carried it for me to speed
up the movement. Thousands of Japanese troops were in the
vicinity and we were miles from the American lines. At the main
Manila south road some soldiers directed us to go on towards the beach.
Later we learned that the original plan was to take out as many as
possible in the tanks across the lake. The rest would march north
on the main road and shielded by troops and guerillas would fight their
way back through the Japanese lines to the American forces.
However, the amphibs made such good time and met so little resistance,
they offered to return to the beach and pick up another load.
As we stood on the beach and waited, Japanese shells were bursting only
a short distance away. One internee had hoarded a jar of brown
sugar and he was going down the line offering everyone a spoonful—the
first sugar we had tasted in months. A famous LIFE photographer
was taking pictures, but somehow I never made the pages of that
magazine. Later on I tried to obtain some of those pictures from
news agencies. I got some, but none were of ourselves or our
friends. Also, I was able to get an army film of the rescue and
for a fleeting moment there we were standing together just before
starting off for the beach. It was only excitement that kept us
plodding along on that three-mile hike.
After a while the amphibs returned and we boarded them. The
baggage was left behind—it would be brought later if they had
room. It really wasn’t worth much but we did get it. Some
of the amphibs were fired on as they went across the lake to a point
near Calamba which was then behind American lines. As we waited
on the beach a Filipino sold me some cooked rice at an exorbitant
price. But never mind; we were free, safe, well, and all
together. Soon trucks came to take us to Bilibid, a penitentiary
at Muntinlupa. The former occupants had either been released or
escaped. All along the way Filipinos cheered “Mabuhay” and made
the victory sign. By late afternoon of that thrilling day we
pulled into another prison, but this one with the Stars and Stripes
flying overhead. Even though I was not then an American citizen,
there was a thrill in looking at that flag.
I quote from a news item dated February 24 which appeared in a Buffalo
paper: “Striking from the sky, by land, and over water in enemy
territory at dawn Friday, American troops and Filipino guerrillas
brought freedom to 2146 in the civilian internment camp at Los Banos. .
. . Only two of the captives were wounded in the brief battle at the
camp and in the running fight with snipers which followed. Two of
the rescuing force were killed and two wounded . . .’Nothing could be
more satisfying to a soldier’s heart than this rescue.’ said Gen.
Douglas MacArthur. ‘I am deeply grateful. God was certainly
with us today.’ ”
The military authorities had estimated that rescuing 75% of the
internees under those conditions would be considered a successful
mission. The rescue was 100%, and with a very small number of
casualties. Two days later the chaplain conducted a thanksgiving
service for both the internees and the rescuing forces. We
certainly had a great deal for which to be thankful to the Lord.
Of course we were thankful to those men who risked their lives to save
us. The chaplain said that when the call was made for a dangerous
mission, the whole group volunteered. But after paying due
respect to the bravery of soldiers and guerrillas and the precision of
the planning, we have to recognize the truth of MacArthur’s words, “God
was certainly with us today.” One fellow told me that he had
never been in action where everything went so much according to plan.
My bed that Friday night was a hard metal bunk—no telling how many
criminals had slept there! I picked up my Bible and read Psalm
66; it seemed as if it had been written for that special
occasion! “He turned the sea into dry land: they went through the
flood on foot.” David never dreamed about amphibs! “Thou
hast caused men to ride over our heads; we went through fire and
through water: but thou broughtest us out into a wealthy place.”
Would we ever forget those planes, the paratroopers dropping into our
midst? Yes, I know this is eisegesis and not exegesis, but it was
real comfort to me that night. “Come and hear, all ye that fear
God, and I will declare what he hath done for my soul. . . Blessed be
God, which hath not turned away my prayer, nor his mercy from me.”