November 2nd - Guimeras Island, The Philippines
We get up and have a big breakfast of, what else, scrambled eggs. Lt. Javellana then explains his plan. We are to be covertly transported across the bay to Panay Island. We'll land at a guerrilla camp on the southeast side of the island, just north of the city Iloilo - a Japanese stronghold. The guerrillas on Panay will then escort us 120 miles up the island to the small town of Libertad on the northern tip where American submarines land to resupply the guerrillas. There we hope to be evacuated.

About noon we return to the beach. There we find a fairly large sailboat capable of carrying ten to twelve men or a whole bunch of fish. From the smell of the thing it's usually fish, but this time it's four Americans. They put us down in the hold, throw tarps over us, and set sail for Panay. Thankfully, the crossing is uneventful and we arrive at the guerrilla base on the outskirts of Iloilo around dusk. The Japanese control the city but are hemmed in by the guerrillas who control the interior of the island.

There are about 100 guerrillas at the camp when we arrive. Food is plentiful around Iloilo and we have a good dinner. Then we are treated to a scene right out of a Hollywood movie. The guerrillas are planning to ambush a Japanese burial party out of Iloilo that evening. The planning is done in a mixture of English and Visayan, the local Panay dialect, but there is enough English in it for us to understand. The burial party will consist of four guards and an eight man burial detail. There will be about fifteen guerrillas involved in the mission. During the ambush, one group of men will jump out with their "Tuba" knives and slice the throats of the Japanese. This is a lot quieter than using guns and it saves precious ammunition. If the first group has any problems they will lay on the ground to allow the rest of the ambush party to finish off the enemy with rifles and BAR's (Browning Automatic Rifles). I heard later that the raid was a success. That night we stay in the house of Capt. Golez.

A word about the Tuba knife. It gets its name from a drink called "Tuba" made from the fermented sap of the palm tree and from personal experience, I must admit, it is an intoxicating beverage. They use these sickle-shaped knives to cut the tree bark and bleed off the sap, but obviously they have other useful applications in this war.

November 3rd and 4th -Panay Island The Philippines - near Iloilo

The next day we are put in the capable hands of Capt. Abrenica (a veterinarian by trade - not that we're feeling like animals) and ten other guerrillas who will escort us to Libertad. We leave before dawn. I am a little nervous on this trek because the guerrillas carry Thompson submachine guns over their shoulders pointing backwards and I am walking behind them trying to keep out of the line of fire. The machine guns are on full automatic and if one of these guys trips they would fire a dozen rounds before they can say "oops". We sleep on the trail and the next day walk through several small villages. It is market day and there is plenty of food to be had down here near lloilo. This will change, however, as we move north. We have somewhat reluctantly become celebrities. The women give us flowers as a sign of welcome, and everyone wants our autographs. Women stand fanning us with large palm fronds as we sit in the village square signing the peso notes, the wartime currency the Philippine resistance has printed.

November 5th and 6th - Panay Island at the HQ of Col. Chavez
We arrive at the headquarters of Col. Chavez about one in the afternoon. He commands the 61st Philippine Infantry Division on the island. He provides us with a letter directing anyone we may come into contact with to provide us with whatever support we may need. This "Lace Placer" as they call it is our Visa, Master Card and American Express all rolled into one, and it comes in handy. We are also provided with some of the local wartime money but are encouraged to bargain hard when making purchases so as not to inflate the currency.

We put our "credit card" to work right away and get Wylder a "Philippine Streetcar". This is a litter or sled pulled by a water buffalo and is used by the local people to haul their produce to market. We are all suffering from malaria, dysentery, or some other kind of ailment, and by this time I'm feeling pretty bad myself, but Wylder is fair skinned and not made for the tropics. After three days in the sun, he's really in bad shape. He rides off and on in the litter for a couple of days until he regains his strength. Speaking of strength, as big as a water buffalo is, it runs out of steam after about four hours of work and cannot work the rest of the day. As we wear out one water buffalo, we would trade it with someone who had a fresh one and continue on our way. It was sort of like the pony express - only no pony and no express.

We meet another American here who, with Wylder, Mix, Whitling, and me, brings our little group to five. This is Lt. Shackelford, a navy pilot, who is very impressed with himself. He is tall and thin, and as windy a young blowhard as you are likely to meet. He is convinced he is the best pilot in the Navy, but of course the fact that he got shot down doesn't make this claim sound very convincing. A memorable Shackleford line: "If the Japs would pay me more, I'd fight for them".

Later that day, around five, we hear our first news over the radio since we were shot down. We stay at Col. Chavez' headquarters for two days, resting up for the long walk to come. It has been almost a week since we were shot down and for the first time we get some clean clothes. Now we look like Hope and Crosby chasing Dorothy Lamour down the Road to Singapore!

November 7th to 9th  Panay Island  on the trail and at Mambusao
We leave Col. Chavez and his hospitable headquarters early in the morning. Over the next three days we travel a very long way - 32 kilometers (about 20 miles) on the 8th alone - all over rugged terrain. At night we camp on the trail. We clamber over bombed out railroad bridges, ford streams, and paddle across some fast moving rivers in dugouts. We arrive in the town of Mambusao, headquarters of the Philippine 66th Quartermaster Corps. We stay overnight.

November 10th to 12th - Panay Island - at Altavas and Batan
We leave Mambusao for Altavas before sunrise. On the trail we meet Col. Peralta, a bigwig in the Philippine military. We arrive in Altavas in the afternoon. There we meet Capt. Rosalez, a tall, impressive Philippine officer dressed in a fine uniform. We're in his office getting acquainted when he opens the window and shouts out "mobilize all the Tuba" which means, "break out the beer - the Americans are here and we're going to have a party." And we do. That day and the next we take it easy. We get to shower and shave, and even get some medical attention.

On the 12th, Capt. Rosalez is holding a court-martial in the schoolhouse. We are invited to watch. They are court-martialing a Capt. Peter Tombokon for surrendering his men and arms to the enemy. Surrendering your men is bad, but surrendering your arms is unforgivable. I ask Capt. Rosalez what they are going to do with Capt. Tombokon. He assures me that they are going to give him a fair trial, and then they are going to shoot him.

Later in the day I hear Col. Peralta, who owns a horse, asking Capt. Abrenica, the veterinarian, how to treat his horse's saddle sores. Abrenica tells him "oh use some carbolic salve". Peralta gives him a sarcastic look. "Yes, but we're in the jungle and I don't have carbolic salve. What is the jungle cure?" He is perturbed. Abrenica tells him to put some leaves under the saddle.

We leave Altavas around sunrise on the 12th and travel by dugout to Batan (not Bataan). We are welcomed with a big feast. Food is still plentiful in this populated part of the island. Later we hear that Capt. Tombokon had indeed been executed. We stay there overnight and the next day leave for Kalibo. Before we leave, Mrs. Peralta, a well-educated woman, is so happy to see Americans that she gives us a cake to take with us. She has just baked it and it's still too hot to frost, so somewhat apologetically she gives us the frosting on a banana leaf. It still tastes great.

November 13th to 15th - Panay Island - at Kalibo
From this point on we move mostly by water. We need to cut out some walking, as Wylder is still weak. We walk from Batan to the beach to get the sailboat. It is out in the bay when we arrive. Our Philippine escorts and us start shouting and signaling for the boat to come in, but the crew just ignores us. One of the guerrillas shoots a couple of rounds across the bow. That does it. The boat quickly comes to shore. It is a pretty good size boat. The owner complains that he can't take us because the boat leaks. Our guides tell him, " Then get down in the hold and start bailing". We set sail, and the boat does leak, but not so badly that bailing can't keep ahead of it. Throughout the trip the owner is passing up buckets of water and we are throwing it overboard.

It is dark when we arrive at the beach. The boat is too big to come in to shore, so a dugout is sent to take us in. We wade ashore in high waves and then walk 9 kilometers to Kalibo, a guerrilla stronghold where we reprovision and get some more local currency. It is a fairly substantial town with real two story buildings. Even though there is no glass in the windows, this feels like civilization after nothing but grass huts. As we walk through the street to meet the Philippine Major who will provide us with money, we get this eerie feeling. All the buildings are empty; it's like a ghost town.

When we arrive at the Major's offices, which are on the second floor of a two-story building, we see two men huddled in a large empty room on the first floor. They are shaking and look like they are in fear for their lives. Suddenly I realize that they are Japanese POWs - and nobody is guarding them. I quickly go back into the street and see an armed guard down the road. I go up to him and tell him about the two men in the room. He calmly tells me that, yes, they are Japanese, and, yes, he is their guard. It looks like pretty loose guarding to me!

When we get to the Major's office I tell him about the incident and my concern. He says "Ah yes, two Japanese courier pilots shot down. They won't run away. I have been offered many pesos to let them escape. You see, the people hate the Japanese and would readily kill these men. I have, in fact, been offered money for a finger or hand." Pretty grisly, but when you understand what the Japanese did to the Philippine people when they invaded, it is understandable. When they first invaded, they would go around to the towns and call a town meeting. When the townspeople were all convened, they would open fire with machine guns and kill them. This was to reduce the civilian population so that more food would go to the Japanese army.

The Major resupplies us with pesos, but again we are warned not to spend too freely as they are trying to keep this wartime currency stable. So, we bargain for our purchases - toothbrushes, soap, etc. With the guard's permission, Wylder and I get acquainted with the two Japanese POWs. We decide to have a little fun with them. In the morning we instruct them to take some white rocks and line a path to a certain building. Then we go about our business. Later in the day we return and say "No, no, no! Not there! Over there - to this building!" This is your basic training harassment. Actually we felt kind of sorry for them. They weren't real combatants, just courier pilots. Later we found out that they had been shot. The story was they were shot trying to escape. Not likely.

November 16th to 19th  Panay Island - On the beach; at Pandan and Patrin
We leave before sunup to walk 9 kilometers back to the beach to get another sailboat, but it's not there so we have to camp that night on the beach. The next day we manage to commandeer a sailboat, but this takes awhile, so we get a late start. As we are boarding the boat, Wylder, who is still feeling pretty bad, takes a misstep and falls in the water. The last thing I see is his straw hat floating in the water where he went in. Remembering that he doesn't swim, I first grab his hat, then reach in the water and grab him by the hair to pull him to the surface. Then we all help pull him out. This has not been an easy trip for Wylder - or for any of us for that matter.

We sail to Naba, and then walk to the town of Pandan where we stay the night. The next day we walk to the town of Patrin where we meet several American naval pilots who are also being ushered to Libertad with the help of the guerrillas. We have lunch at the Major's house, and then go to the beach to catch a sailboat to our final destination - Libertad. There is no wind, however, so we stay the night in Patrin.

November 20th - Panay Island - at Libertad
There is a good wind today and we sail uneventfully the rest of our long journey to Libertad. It's been 20 days since we were shot down. At Libertad we meet about eight more navy pilots who have been rescued by the Philippine guerrillas. There is a large schoolhouse, which serves as pretty good quarters. The ranking American is Lt. John Williams, one of those unusual career naval officers. He is a nice fellow and knows his stuff. He is in command of the Americans here in Libertad.

November 21st to 23rd - Panay Island - at Libertad
It rains all day on the 21st and we lay around in the morning. In the afternoon we each get ten pesos to buy food for Thanksgiving and go around to the Philippines' homes to buy their chickens and other food. The next day I do KP duty to help prepare for Thanksgiving dinner the next day. Later I go swimming and that evening I get sick again with a high fever. Dysentery, malaria, and diarrhea are taking their toll!

Thanksgiving day arrives and we have pooled our resources to buy a pig and five chickens, which we roast over an open fire. Unfortunately I'm too sick to partake. Lt. Williams feeds me two soft-boiled eggs. The next day, I'm well enough to eat some meat left over from Thanksgiving.

November 24th - Panay Island - at Libertad
As more men arrive every day, from Bataan, Corregidor, and elsewhere, the schoolhouse barracks is getting a bit crowed, so Wylder, Whitling, and I decide to sleep out in a thatched hut on the beach. It's on ten-foot stilts to keep the snakes out, and has the usual split bamboo flooring. The spaces between the bamboo shafts are wide enough to see through. This provides the Philippine homemaker two domestic advantages. First, refuse falls easily through these large cracks so the hut is kept clean without a lot of effort. Second, the chickens know about this and live underneath the hut where they feed on this "manna from heaven" and fatten themselves for the homemakers' future meals.

There are lots of guerrillas around and near the beach. It encircles a small cove and is an ideal spot for a boat to take cover. Early in the morning on the 24th, around daybreak, a guerrilla climbs the ladder, and reaches in. He grabs my leg to wake me up. "Sir" he says (the guerrillas called us all sir), the Japanese are landing on the beach". That wakes me up! I say to Wylder and Whitling: "Hey, where are we? We're on the beach. Let's get the hell out of here". So we scamper down the ladder and head for the main building to alert the others.  Then I say to Wylder and Whitling: "Wait a minute. How many Japs are there? Lets go see." Whitling and I go back to the beach and Wylder goes on to give the alarm.

When we get back to the beach we can see the boat at anchor about 300 yards out. I estimate that it is about 40 feet long and it's loaded with 50-gallon drums of gasoline. They're stacked all over the deck and tied down with chains. It looks like the ship has a crew of about 20. A small boat has been lowered and two sailors are rowing a third man with a briefcase to shore. They are obviously oblivious to our presence and under the illusion that Panay is under Japanese control. The guerrillas are all lined up and hidden behind a rise with their rifles aimed at the small boat. As soon as the man with the briefcase steps out of the boat to wade to the shore, the guerrillas open fire and mow them down.

This alerts the crew on the large boat and they quickly begin to weigh anchor to flee. The guerrillas have opened fire with their small arms, but the weather is calm and the water like glass, and I can see that the rounds are falling harmlessly short. The ship is slowly beginning to make headway. I notice a guerrilla next to me with a Browning automatic rifle. As luck would have it, it takes the same ammunition used in Wylder's .30 caliber machine guns in the bombardier's compartment on "Li'l Jo", and we have the ammunition we retrieved from the wreck. I quickly put together a clip of bluenose (incendiary) rounds, take the BAR from the guerrilla, load up the clip, and take aim. With the barge at long range, I put an arch on the rounds by aiming well above my target. As I begin to fire on automatic I drop the nose of the weapon, hoping one of the rounds will get the right distance.

I am not disappointed. An incendiary round manages to hit the target. There is a slight rumble and then suddenly the entire barge goes up in one great explosion. The ship and the water around it are enveloped in flames as the burning gasoline spews everywhere. The few Japanese who survive the explosion are diving off into the water. The entire village has turned out to watch. They and the guerrillas are cheering (need I say again how much the Philippinos hate the Japanese?). All the Americans from the schoolhouse barracks are there too. It's become quite a crowd. Call me crazy, but after about an hour, as the flames die down on the ship, Vern England (one of the U.S. Navy survivors) and I challenge each other to see who can get to the Japanese flag on the barge first. We strip and dive in.  I win the race, climb on what remains of the still smoldering ship, which by now has grounded itself, grab the flag, wave it in victory to the approving crowd on the shore, and dive back in for the swim back. As I wade ashore, Wylder comes up and, as if he is holding a g-string, hands me a pair of shorts so I won't be so indecent.

After another hour passes and the flames on the boat are completely out, Wylder, Whitling, and I go to another part of the cove, recruit four guerrillas, and get hold of a barge on which the seven of us begin to pole our way back out to the wreck. We want to salvage whatever provisions we can, for the guerrillas are chronically short of supplies of all types. About halfway out we see a Japanese officer who has survived the inferno floating in the water. He has no flotation gear. We steer over to rescue him. The others are poling as I take a line and throw it over the side for the man to grab on to. The barge has about five feet of freeboard. As I'm leaning over waiting for the man to grab the rope, he pulls out a short sword, perhaps two feet in length, and takes a swipe at me. He's nowhere near close enough to hit me. This is just a symbolic gesture of defiance to the last. His sword harmlessly strikes the rope, which I drop as I turn to get a carbine. In a few seconds, all seven of us are lined up taking aim at this fellow. "OK" we are all thinking, "if you want to die, buster, we'll help you". But no one shoots. None of us has the stomach to shoot an unarmed man. The officer resolves the dilemma for us by committing hara-kiri on the spot. As his sword punctures his lungs, he loses the air that keeps him afloat and sinks quickly to the bottom of the cove with his sword buried deep in his body. I am very disappointed. I really wanted that sword.

We reach the ruins of the boat and immediately fan out looking for provisions and whatever else we can salvage. Lots of rice and sake! We don't want to stay long so we don't clean it out on this trip. It's not going anywhere. I want the ship's compass, a beautiful thing about 4 inches around, made of brass with delicate Japanese characters engraved all around and a floating needle to maintain true course in the worst of weather. It is securely attached to the boat, however, and I can't get it loose. Later the guerrillas come back and get it.

Back on shore the Japanese survivors who reach land spread out in all directions around the cove. One makes it to shore pushing, of all things, a cask of sake - which the guerrillas liberate and which we later enjoy very much. The guerrillas round up the few survivors, force them to dig their own graves in the sand, and then shoot and bury them. I witness two such executions. In the end there are no Japanese survivors.

Continue Story