During the complete quiet of roll call we all heard a long sustained salvo of guns, heavy guns, also planes and the rip of bombs. Kaito, who was lounging through roll call as usual, suddenly called out, “Dismissed,” and the entire 450 camp members burst into a din of joy, whoop and Oh Boy, chatter and laughter, as they flocked to the edge of the bank or down the steps to Baby House point. We rush out of the hospital to listen to the sound of battle, which is plain. All past sounds pale before this, which to our ears could be naval guns for landing forces. The spotters on the hill whistle off and on and later blow the all-clear. These signals are phoned to town, it is said, even as we did it four years ago. We are almost worn out already, dashing in and out full of thrill.
Natalie Crouter
(October 30, 1898 — October 15, 1985). Resident of Vigan and later Baguio in the Philippines. Interned by the Japanese with her family in Baguio, then Bilibid Prison in Manila.
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