November 25th and 26th- Panay Island - Libertad
We are enjoying the provisions we captured from the Japanese boat, especially the sake! On the 26th, we go to the weekly farmers' market. There are plenty of vegetables, some meat, and, improbably enough, Colgate toothpaste, Lifebuoy soap, and other American sundries which some Philippinos have managed to hoard during the occupation. That night, after the market has closed, the cockfights begin. The spurs they put on these cocks are razor sharp, and the loser is usually dead or at least well sliced up. As soon as a match is over we quickly go over to the owner of the losing cock and buy it to eat. It's pretty tough but if you boil and boil and boil it long enough its edible -barely. It may sound unappetizing, but if you eat nothing but rice morning, noon, and night (actually, since rice doesn't stay with you for long, we have to eat it five meals a day) you really get sick of it and any meat is a welcome change. The weevils in the rice don't help, either.  You try to pick them out, but there are just too many. A little sweet coconut milk helps.

November 27th - Panay Island - Libertad
Throughout our trek we try to get information about the rest of our crew, but no one knows anything, so it is with surprise and delight that we meet Perri, Mascetta, and Douglas just before noon on November 27th. They had followed exactly in our footsteps about a week behind us, so they knew about us, but we didn't know about them. Each of them has their own story of survival and rescue. We break out a bottle of wine to celebrate as they tell us their stories. Douglas, our ball turret gunner, had climbed out of the turret just before it fell out of the plane. He bailed out and delayed opening his chute to avoid becoming a sitting duck for the Zeros. Douglas spent three days in the sea. He took letters from his wife, wadded them up, and stuck them in his nose and ears to keep the water, out as he slept in his lifejacket. He saw many sailboats but did not trust anyone so he stayed clear of them. Eventually he made it to Guimeras Island where he met Javellana's men who put him on the road to Libertad.

Perri's story is the most harrowing. Galbraith, the left waist gunner, had been shot in both legs and was in critical condition. Perri helped him to bail out, but he was not heard of again. Perri, at the right waist gun, had received a serious wound in the forearm. He bailed out and survived the drop to the water, but he was losing a lot of blood. He was in the water for 30 hours, and was becoming delirious when Javellana's men picked him up around 4:00 PM the next day. They decide to take him to Dumangas, a small town just north of Iloilo on Panay. As they were approaching the shore, a Japanese patrol boat spotted them and signaled for them to halt for an inspection. The patrol boat is much faster than the little sailboat, but they are close to the shore and decide to make a run for it. Just as the patrol boat closes in, the sailboat crosses a sandbar and is able to take cover. It is a narrow escape.

They have no plasma at Dumangas, which Perri needed badly, but he was too weak to be moved. They kept him there two days, then began the long trek to Libertad where the US subs will have plasma and other medical supplies. All things considered, by the time I see him he actually looks in pretty fair shape.

November 28th to December 4th - Panay Island - Libertad
As more and more evacuees arrive, the little schoolhouse barracks is getting more and more crowded. We now have seven from the U.S. Army Air Force, five Philippine Air Force pilots (unbelievably all that remains of the entire Philippine Air Force), two other Philippines, and sixteen U.S. Navy pilots - a total of thirty men waiting for the "taxi" to Australia. One of the Navy planes - the TBM - carries a crew of two, which in part accounts for why we have so many. England is one of these second crewmen.

There isn't a lot of food and this large group is pressing the limits of the ability of the local economy to support us. The U.S. Army has a Philippino Master Sergeant named Garcia stationed at the top of a nearby mountain in touch with Australia. Each day Lt. Williams goes up the mountain and sends this message: "Hey, my men are sick! Get us out of here!" And each time Australia radios back: "Rescue imminent". Sure.

On Sunday we go to church in the morning. That afternoon we kill a cow and have roast steaks for dinner. What a feast! On the following day the cow becomes hamburger balls. We play pinochle all day and I get sick again with dysentery. On November 30th I am able to get a little medicine to help with the dysentery. We are all sweating out rumors of when the sub will arrive.

December 1st
I go to Patrin in the morning and get the compass the guerrillas had liberated from the Jap ship. That cost me a few ersatz pesos! That night I sleep in the schoolhouse in Patrin as it is raining and return to Libertad the next day. I make candy that evening using brown sugar patties and coconut shredded with a fork!

The next day it continues to rain all day. I go to the farmers market and buy few things. When I return I'm on KP again and wash dishes. That night it's back to the cockfights. I win ten pesos. I'm also up all night with dysentery. The following day the skies clear and MSgt. Garcia has good news - the sub is to be here tomorrow! My spirits are lifted! I have not yet met Garcia, but I understand from Lt. Williams that he has real coffee, so, with some of my strength returning, I decide to climb the mountain to visit him and see if I can get some.

We haven't had real coffee since we were shot down, and we've gone to some real extremes here to satisfy the craving. We take rice and roast it over an open fire on a piece of corrugated tin that the Philippinos use for roofing on their huts. Once it has been thoroughly roasted we pound it into a powder (or as close to it as we can get), put it in a cup, and add hot water. It tastes terrible if you take it straight, like I do, but if you add brown sugar and coconut milk, which you can get at the market, it's passable. The Philippinos won't touch the stuff.

December 5th and 6th - Panay Island- Libertad
In the morning, following the instructions we receive from Australia, we tack a large sheet up between two trees as a signal to the submarine that the coast is clear. I wash my clothes in preparation for the trip. That night the entire group loads up in about a dozen dugouts and paddles a short way offshore, waiting for the submarine to appear somewhere in the bay. We wait and wait. Finally we realize that the sub isn't coming and so head dejectedly back to shore. The next day we are told that the sub will pick us up that evening, so we run through the same routine. This time, sure enough, just at dusk, the conning tower breaches the surface not far from us. We would all shout and cheer if we could.

Later we hear that the sub was there the first night, submerged and watching through the periscope as we got into the dugouts and paddled out in the bay. They wanted to watch us some more, however, to make sure it wasn't a trap and we weren't under duress. They watched us all the next day as we went about our business, bathing in the ocean and playing cards. They were convinced.

Soon dugouts surrounded the sub. We are in our skivvies, having left our uniforms with the guerrillas. Uniforms are a precious commodity to them, and it is a small enough token of our appreciation for their saving our lives. The U.S.S. Hake's Captain briefs us before we go below decks. He says that the crew has been submerged in Tokyo Bay for the past month and that they are on edge. With the added people and close quarters, there is likely to be friction. He will stick up for his crew and asks us not to make any demands on them.

We take his message to heart, but as we begin to go below we find just the opposite. The crew, however tired, welcomes us with open arms. Each crew member stands next to one of us. If the shoulder height matches, the crew member takes us to his locker where he provides us with blue dungarees and some of the most comfortable sandals I've ever worn.

I am startled shortly after getting below decks by a big commotion. The crew is beating the crap out of one of the Navy men who had been rescued with us, Rudy Velle. Maybe the Captain is right after all, but later I find out that the crew has known Rudy since he was on the "Gunnel", a sister ship to the Hake which is also based at Freemantle.

Several months before, Rudy had been on the Gunnel when it had to make an emergency dive. As he was running for the hatch, the gunner swung the deck gun around to secure it and accidentally knocked Rudy into the water. The gunner didn't notice this and the Captain didn't realize he was missing until the head-count. They resurfaced and conducted a search but couldn't find him. Meanwhile, Rudy was a strong swimmer and had made it to a nearby island where the guerrillas put him on the underground railroad to Libertad. The crew thought he was dead and when they found out he was alive; they couldn't contain their delight and just pounded him silly.

We also have two Philippinos with us, Olivar and a fellow we called "Doc". Olivar had a bad leg amputation and is going to Australia for corrective surgery. I'm not sure why Doc is here. Physically he seems OK.

December 7th - Aboard the USS Hake
On board the sub, we are affectionately known to the crew as "the refugees". The mess hall is not very big, so we eat in shifts. When it is our turn to eat, the following message comes blaring across the intercom: "Chow down for the refugees!"

Initially, I am housed with the crew amidships. After a short while, though, I trade spots with Olivar and Doc who are bunking in the forward torpedo room. As the front of the boat breaks against the water you get a little side-to-side shimmy, which was making both of them seasick. I have no problem with it. I sleep on the torpedo skids. These are sort of like long, skinny hammocks that the torpedoes ride in until they are used. The Hake is coming off a three month cruise and doesn't have any torpedoes left. They place a pad on the skid to make it a little more comfortable. Compared to a bamboo floor, it's a Sealy Posturepedic.

Our route takes us down through the Sulu Sea and the Makasa Straights between Borneo and the Celebes and right past Balikpapan - or what is left of it. From there we continue south through the Java Sea and through the Lumbok straights, east of Java. From there it is open Ocean all the way to Freemantle.

The sub travels mostly on the surface. That's because it can only make about four to five knots underwater but can make about fifteen on the surface. Also, the batteries used for underwater travel have a very limited range. As a result, we are exposed to enemy aircraft surveillance and attack. Shortly after our departure from Libertad we have our first encounter with the enemy. The Captain sounds the emergency dive siren. It sounds like this: "AH-OOO-GAH! AH-OOO-GAH! AH-OOO-GAH!" The way it echoes inside that tin can makes your blood run cold.

The purpose of an emergency dive is to put as much water between you and the attacker as possible as fast as you can. The sub turns its nose steeply downward and I hang on to whatever I can. The first fifty feet are the most dangerous. At two hundred feet you're pretty safe. As we are in this fast, steep dive I hear a loud metallic "clank" as something hits the outside of the sub and bounces off. Moments later there is a HUGE explosion which rocks the sub violently. "Oh great", I think. "Did I survive all this just to get blown up in this metal coffin? I hear the Captain's voice come across the intercom: "Check all stations for leaks". Good idea. There are a few more explosions, but they are farther away. Then it is over as quickly as it began. We survive, but the enemy now knows we're here and knows where we're headed, so they can prepare an attack later in our trip.

Later I discuss the attack with a guy in the forward engine room. He sees how shaken I am. "Don't worry", he says. "If they had had our depth right, that first can wouldn't have bounced off us. It would have blown up when it hit us". How reassuring.

The sub must keep a lockout on deck whenever it is on the surface to check for enemy aircraft and ships. During the trip I get to spend one hour at lookout. How great it is to get outside and see the sun! A few days later another plane shows up and we are depth charged again, but this time it is not nearly as close or harrowing as the first time.

On a sub there are many more people than sleeping places, so we all take turns, a process the Navy calls "hot-sacking" because the sack is still hot when you hit it. As for meals, we are happy to find anything that looked like food. The dining table seats six to eight and has a ridge around the sides to keep food and dishes from falling off as the sub pitches and rolls. There is always coffee and cocoa available. I am drinking cocoa each day before going to bed until I realize the cocoa has even more caffeine than coffee. The caffeine does help me learn to play double deck pinochle on the roving card table during the trip.

The bathroom or "head", as the Navy calls it, is a very interesting affair. It is a very small room that accommodates one commode. Wastewater is expelled out of the belly of the sub below the water line. The water exerts considerable inward pressure so the toilet setup must be charged with enough air pressure to force the waste out. There are several valves that must be turned in the proper sequence for this to work. If this sequence is not followed, the waste can be blown back into the compartment at a very energetic velocity. Unfortunately it happened to our Philippine friends, Olivar and Doc, whose grasp of English is not sufficient for them to avoid this, well, unpleasant experience. They are down there for at least an hour each time cleaning up.

We can shower as much as we like, however we must use salt water because fresh water is scarce. We found that with green Palmolive soap we could almost lather up!

We pass through the Makasa Straights uneventfully. There is a strong tidal flow (ten to twelve knots) in the Lumbok Straights and so we must make our passage when the flow is with us, otherwise with the current against us, we will barely make headway. Also we must cross on the surface, even though it's almost a certainty that the enemy is waiting for us, because our speed must exceed the speed of the current in order to maintain rudder control. If we went through submerged at four knots we would tumble along like so much debris. Since we are making the passage in the middle of the night, the only advantage we have is the cover of darkness. We do come under some half-hearted enemy fire on the way through, but not enough for us to bother with our little four-inch gun. Apparently the Japs are distracted with bigger fish.

A day out of Freemantle, the base sends out a small fast ship to meet the sub with fresh milk, lettuce, and MAIL for the crew. This includes orders for promotions of some of the crew. Two guys made CHIEF. They are summarily tossed in the drink - clothes and all. Remember they have been fighting constantly for about three months in the enemy's back yard blowing up ships, sneak attacks, etc.

We arrive at Freemantle around noon on December 20th. It is a beautiful day and we get a royal welcome. As we cruise into the harbor, all the "refugees" are standing on deck and a Navy photographer takes our picture. The base commander gives us all a welcoming speech. At the end of the speech, however, he cannot resist this opportunity to pointedly say: "now maybe you flyboys won't be so eager to drop bombs on our submarines". We "flyboys" have strict orders to bomb any sub we see. The problem is that our subs have IFF and some of our eager pilots don't check it.

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