June 22nd, 1946

Was called late this morning for shaving. For a time thought I had written too soon to Nena about manong to shave everyday thinking they might skip it this time. Unable to hold my curiosity I push the guard calling number, and one of them Came to explain that upon complaint of some damn Nazi they had decided to call us for shaving and bath one day from the top of the list down the next from the bottom upwards alternating that way was claimed more fair to everybody concerned. Didn’t want to dispute fairness to new arrangements—I am on top of the list but told guard it had always been that way from the beginning. He sort of sympathized with me and will start Nazi’s again for tomorrow for shaving so that Filipinos may start bath first day after tomorrow. We only are allowed to bathe Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Maybe the Nazi’s are already contaminating even the GI
guards.

Thursday afternoon when I came back from dinner, Toto’s, Nena’s picture had been blown away from its place on the wall and no amount of search could locate it anywhere in my room. I asked guards to see whether they could find it downstairs—-it must have been blown away out of the window during dinner time when door was open and strong wind was coming through door. Two of them went looking for it but could not find it. We decided it must have fallen on the ledge just outside my windows, but as these are barred we couldn’t see enough of the ledge from my window. Yesterday I asked both Tom and Harold the guards then to help look. They went up on the roof of the building and was able to see the picture——but as he had no ladder to fetch it tried an experiment which worked wonderfully———We dropped a pebble on the picture hit on an edge which made it jump off the ledge to the ground and afterwards retrieved it and gave it to me. He was just as happy his idea worked as I was to get my picture back. It is again on the wall this time more strongly glued, but not enough to spoil it when time comes to take it away for home.

They gave me “Time” of June 10th at 9:30 this am. Pretty early this time, though magazine had been ripped Open by the  ensors—Had to glue cover page together—-Nothing about the Philippines—no story about Roxas inauguration.

Showed Nena letter to Ossie on my way to shave. Returned it to me at beginning of morning exercise-—said it was best letter home written so far——It will make Nena immensely happy-—Said he wants to meet her as soon as we get back——said he could visualize how she and brothers and sisters would enjoy reading it——also her mother——Said Nena would cry over it—said you must have enjoyed writing it. There are two things there though Nena will (illegible) you about; (illegible) With the parenthetical insertion of “marital filial and the only one wife explanation.” Well I said that’s true anyhow. Asked Osias whether I should let Aquino see it also—Answered Yes by all means—Reference to Aquino does both families honor, so why not? Aquino also read letter-—said that’s the kind of letter I like to write to my own daughters—but probably our compadre Laurel would not appreciate the humor involved —would think it too frivolous contrary to set of monastic relationship he has with members of his family. As a result he has had the marriages of his boys so far and they were all escapades or elopements in fear of parental disapproval or opposition. Even the son here has already expressed some concern about the way his sisters are being brought up or are growing. Aquino said moreover letter would make Nena very happy—added however now Marylou for instance would also want to be written to. I said precisely left open chance to write to other girls by announcing with sufficient provocation will write to others too. Aquino likes Marylou best of all the girls after listening to her play the piano one time. He calls “mi morenita.”

Quite unexpectedly they called us out grass detail at around six pm. After I had already put off my shoes though was still dressed with socks on and was taking my after dinner exercise. Outside Steinmetz the guard made a little speech about the doctor wanting the grass pulled out and asking us whether we would like to continue with the work, but that if we did we must show a little action so that when the doctor comes around to inspect something had been accomplished. Otherwise they would put some other people on It. We all  answered we had no objection to carrying on and proceeded to pull grass in count. In less than half an hour we cleaned an area larger than what we had done two days in succession previously—the guards were happy—even Kindermann and Shimizu the laziest in the crowd did some grass pulling more consistently for the first time.

On way out to dinner gave compadre Benigno “Time” of June 10th as he said he could finish it during the night and I intended to sleep early today—as matter of fact went to bed before 7 pm.


June 19th, 1946

Rizal Day! Also Toto’s second wedding anniversary. We drunk our coffee to Rizal’s memory at breakfast this morning —- all five of us. But most of the conversation centered around Nena’s letter still with comments on the pictures she sent of the “mga apos,” as she calls them. Both Osias & Laurel Jr. were struck by Baby June’s commanding forehead — they said watch out for that fellow he looks. very intelligent, he will bear following when he begins going to school — he is bound to be somebody. Aquino thought June’s Junior brother was a girl who looked very much like his own, by the pictures at least. Laurel Jr. thought Nena’s Eddie was a very quiet sort of kid — yes I said & he looks very much like the Locsin’s perhaps the Vargas trace will appear later on as he gets older. Jr. also said Toto’s wife was very good looking & their baby looked very healthy and very much like her mother.

There was some confusion at the bath. Our #1 bathroom was said to be leaking, so I was asked to go take my bath in another room. I went to #3 where Osias usually takes his, the two Laurels always are together in #2. Osias & Aquino had not yet been called out, so that when later on they came Osias insisted on taking his bath in #1 saying he would guarantee not to spill the water on the floor & was taken up on his word. Aquino came to where I was—I had already finished bathing & was ready for my shave. Aquino usually takes his bath ahead of me as he does not immerse himself in the tub, but I do, so that when he came there still some soap in the water although I had taken good care to fill the tub up & let the water spill over so as to push off the floating soap suds that invariably wash off one’s body no matter how much he rinses himself before getting into the tub.

Nine-thirty & still no inspection in my room. Had been cleaning HIE since five-thirty in the morning, having taken down even the handbag that is on the roof of the W.C. & cleared off the dust — Also took out one of my tennis shoes for exercise in the afternoon which Osias & I do together these days —mostly bending & sitting up exercise to reduce the bulge on Osias girth and to try to arrest the growing pounds on mine. Probably they just told us there would be daily inspection so that everybody would start cleaning his cell.

The lieutenant himself finally came around at 9:45 said he was just looking around — dropped on me while I was looking at the snap shots that came with Nena’s letter. The lieut. looked at them too — Said “She is a very good looking girl —~ is he your son in-low?” referring to Toto. When I told him No, the girl is my daughter-in-law, the boy my son he remarked “Your son has very good taste.”

In casual conversation with Aquino at lunch I learned he referred to Toto‘s daughter, the picture where she is alone standing on a chair that reminded him of his own youngest.

Raining today — pair of morning exercise & all of afternoon indoors — While out, Pete said to go back to the rooms to fix up as there were visitors coming, true enough while we were at movies, a group of what looked like Chinese were inspecting. They passed by the messhall as the picture finished & we were beginning to file out, “Scarlet Street” with Joon Bermut. Story of a faithful elderly cashier — with a hen-pecking wife falling in love with a gold-digger in love with a young man. Ends up in the old man killing the girl when he surprises her talking in telephone with her young lover —old man runs away & police & others find the young man in the room with dead girl — He is tried & convicted of murder, is electrocuted but old man later become insane with remorse seeing visions of her & goes on the bum waiting to be tried & executed for two murders but nobody would believe him, even the police. Picture end with old man being shoved off a public park & still wandering around with his guilty conscience gripping him. I wonder who the visitors were? They must have been rather important or perhaps only part of American propaganda for their supposed humane treatment of prisoners — If only people knew that the Americans are holding us here for months without so much as an investigation, much less a trial.

Were taken out to pull grass, but only for a short time as it started to drizzle a bit & the guards did not want to stay out in the rain. Came back to the rooms before or about six and started to paste up on the wall between the windows in front of my desk pictures of Baby Jr. and his kid brother. Nena’s Eddie and Mameng’s Nena. Afterwards made an experiment which didn’t work out at all—-put some water into the little can of glue which was fast coagulating, stirred it up thoroughly and heated the bottom of the can but the glue and the water wouldn’t mix, the glue became too thin and not sticky at all so when Pete came in to bring Aquino’s reconstructed shirt from the girls asked him for some new glue and he promised to give a little after I had cleaned the can again of its miry contents.

Read until about nine-thirty. Before going to bed tried out the Japanese mosquito incense, but found it difficult to light the winding stick and keep it burning and smoking. So the night was full of mosquitoes again as usual. Wonder when they will bring in the mesh screens for my windows!

At morning exercise had a long talk with BaMaw about our conversation back in Oct. ’44 when he told me Marshall Sugiyama had told him Filipinos were not cooperating with Jap Army. Were on the contrary ferociously fighting back and helping the Americans, too many guerillas, and that we should be careful or expect some very bitter experience. This I told BaMaw was the constant background of all my speeches –had to make Jap feel, at least the civilians as the Army top level knew too much of what was going on, a certain sense of security, although a false one, I knew all the time, but to save the Embassy people first from any popular anti-Filipino reactions and try to help the people at home survive better. Asked him whether it would be possible for him to come to Manila to testify at my trial, if there was going to be any, although I rather think now the whole collaboration issue may be allowed to die a natural death eventually, I would arrange for his transportation back and forth and would be my guest in Manila if he came. Said he would be glad to consider as circumstances may command at the time.


February 25, 1943

Shoreham Hotel.

Quezon says that when he first came to Washington as Resident Commissioner he, like most Filipinos, believed that when they saw an American man and woman out driving together, whom they knew not to be married to one another, they were sexually intimate. This was the old Spanish idea. But when he got to Washington and made friends with American girls, he soon found out the truth as to our views on the sexes–he was delighted, and when he went back to the Philippines, he convinced them as to the real American situation in these matters.

This conversation arose from an amusing incident–he was at his desk writing a letter to a well-known Washington hostess–a widow, but still young. She had recently entertained him in her house at a diner a deux. This was the first and only time they had met, and she terrified him by stories of the spying of the various secret services which, apparently, has always gone on in Washington. She told how, during the last war, she had warned Bernard Baruch, then a most important official, that she knew there were six police dictaphones in “his” house. He thought the statement ridiculous, but went home, made a search and found six of them–two under his bed! He was so furious that he went at once to President Wilson and resigned his office. The President finally calmed him down. Well, this lady, in return for some orchids which Quezon had sent her after the dinner, wrote him a rather empresse letter–a little coy and pleasantly familiar. He was struggling with his English vocabulary in writing his reply and asked me to help him. I read his letter and told him that it wouldn’t do at all–his phrase: “I was to find that, as the Spanish say, you carry your heart in your hand”–I protested that it was dangerous for a statesman to write such a letter–if a third party found it, use might be made of it. He jumped as if he had been shot–he was only trying to be polite. He explained that the phrase above quoted meant in Spanish only “sincere” or “virtuous” but I again objected that in English “virtue” meant not the old Latin sense of the word, but only referred to sex! He was horrified, entirely rewrote the letter in uncompromising phrases and thanked me rather effusively for saving him. He made a great story for his family out of this!

Quezon, Andres Soriano, Secretary of Finance and myself in conversation. More talk on news from the Philippines, which comes from Colonel Peralta, chief of guerrillas in Panay, through MacArthur in Australia, from time to time, and also, in bits, from returned travelers like Consul Willoquet, etc.

George Vargas, altho head of the government commission under the Japanese is not trusted by them. He is always attended by Japanese “aide-de-camp” when he goes out; Japanese officers live in his house. His wife confessed to Willoquet who saw her alone, that they are not free agents.

Quezon thinks the Japanese have disposed of Manuel Roxas by a feigned airplane accident. Soriano thinks that they have taken him to Japan to hold as a hostage. When Quezon was in the tunnel at Corregidor, he thought he was dying, and wanted to go back to Malacañan. Roxas begged him not to do so. Later when the time came for Quezon to leave Corregidor to join to MacArthur in Australia (an event which was not then anticipated), Manuel Roxas begged him with tears in his eyes not to go from Corregidor. He exhorted him to “think of your fame.” Roxas followed Quezon to Dumaguete, and went with him to Mindanao, though he did not wish to leave Wainwright at Corregidor. Refused to leave Mindanao and joined General Sharp’s forces there. Sharp was ordered by Wainwright from Corregidor, when the latter fell, to surrender explaining that the Japanese would not give any terms to those on Corregidor unless all the military forces in the Islands also surrendered themselves. So, to save the men and women on Corregidor, Sharp and Roxas came in and gave themselves up to the nearest Japanese command. (NOTE–later–Roxas and Commander Worcester, U.S.N.R. fled to the mountains of Bukidnon). General Paulino Santos and Guingona, [who were not in the army, are in Mindanao. They have “gone over” to the Japanese.] Quezon says that Guingona was with him when Vargas’ co-operation with the Japanese was mentioned in Quezon’s presence, and, as Quezon says, when he heard no adverse comment upon Vargas’ action, being a “bright fellow” (Q.), Guingona followed suit. Quezon expressed a desire to know what Guingona had done with the four million pesos of Philippine currency he took to Mindanao to pay the army there–“if he kept it for himself…” I protested vigorously that nobody who knew Guingona could believe such a thing possible. Quezon agreed. “But,” I said “I have now heard you say twice that–if he kept it for himself.” Finally we agreed that he had probably burned the money, as his instructions required.

Soriano asked if he could bring the Spanish Cabinet Minister of War (Bergdorfer?), who is now in Washington, to call on Quezon tomorrow morning? Soriano said B. was an anti-Nazi, and had remarked that Quezon’s fame was now great in Spain. Quezon replied that he could squeeze in a half-hour for the call from B. “which should be long enough if I don’t start making speeches–which I always do!”

It appears that Justice Frank Murphy presented to Roosevelt the plan for the recent announcement that Roosevelt has already recognized the Philippines as possessing the attributes of an independent nation by putting Quezon on the Pacific War Council and asking him to sign the United Nations declaration. Murphy then told Roosevelt quite heatedly that he disapproved the decision to make Hitler the No. 1 enemy, and concentrate on him to the disadvantage of the Pacific area. Roosevelt took Murphy’s objections in good temper and told Murphy to “cool off.”

Somehow, the conversation turned back to Dr. Dominador Gomez. Quezon described him as a pure Malay type, but very big and a tremendous orator in the Spanish style, who swayed his audiences as he pleased. He had been a colonel in the Spanish Army. Was elected in 1907 as a delegate to the First Philippine Assembly. The election was declared void by the Assembly because there was no proof that Gomez was a Philippine citizen. Another election, and Gomez was returned by an even larger majority amid tumults and mob fighting. So they let him in!

When Quezon was Resident Commissioner in Washington he had occasion to make some uncomplimentary remark about Gomez. Quezon, traveling homewards, got to Shanghai on the steamer where he received a letter from Gomez challenging him to a duel. On arrival in Manila Quezon received a visit from the famous Colonel Blanco, also formerly a colonel in the Spanish Army in the Philippines and founder of the Macabebe Scouts, who appeared as Gomez’s second to challenge Quezon and asking who his second would be. Quezon replied: “I shall appoint no second. I do not wish to fight a duel with Dr. Gomez. But you may tell him this: ‘I give him leave to shoot me any time he sees me. Also tell him that any time he comes within one metre of me, I shall immediately shoot him.'” Shortly afterwards, Quezon attended a burial in Manila. With him were his cousin Miss Aurora Aragon–now Mrs. Quezon and Mary Buencamino. They knew about the challenge and were horrified to see Dominador Gomez standing near Quezon and all the more so since Gomez had his hand in his side pocket! Mrs. Buencamino slipped right behind Gomez and stood there to grab his arm, but Quezon pushed right in front of him to look down into the grave. Gomez drew out his hand from his pocket, but produced only a pocket handkerchief to mop his face!

Quezon then told of his marriage to Miss Aragon in Hong Kong in 1919. I (the present writer) was on the Ocean (Pacific) en route for New York when I received a radio from Quezon. “Married Hong Kong.” I went down to Dr. Oñate’s cabin to wake him, and demanded that he should tell me who Quezon had married. He was afraid to commit himself and it was a half-hour before I could get out of him the guess that it was Quezon’s cousin, Miss Aurora Aragon.

The marriage was secretly decided on when Quezon and Miss Aragon were in Hong Kong. Quezon sent his a.d.c. to the American Consul and requested that he should ask the Governor to waive the required 10 days residence, which was done. When the guests and the principals had met in rickshaws at the civil marriage bureau, Quezon turned to Luis Yancko and said: “Do you know why we are gathered here? I am going to be married right now!” Yancko’s mouth fell open with surprise and he stammered “but to whom?” Quezon replied: “To this young lady who stands beside me.” “But, but that’s impossible” said Yancko (meaning because they were within the degrees of relationship prohibited by the Church). “Impossible–how do you mean?” “Well” said Yancko “not impossible but improbable!”

Yancko gave them a beautiful wedding breakfast at the leading Hong Kong hotel.

At lunch today Mrs. Quezon and General Valdes were describing the discomforts of life in the tunnel at Corregidor. Mrs. Quezon got tired of waiting in line before support to get her shower, so she would wait until 2 a.m. and bathe then. Soon others discovered the way, and they began standing in line in the middle of the night. No curtain hung on the alcove which contained the shower. After the heavy bombings, the water main was broken, and for two weeks they had not only to bathe in salt water, but also to cook their rice and make their coffee in salt water, which entirely upset their stomachs.

Colonel Velasquez, a West Pointer, who was in the front lines at Bataan and Corregidor, was recently at the military school at Fort Benning, Georgia, where he says he made himself rather unpopular when the meals were discussed by saying: “Sometimes we may have to go hungry for a long time.” Velasquez told me he thought a campaign like that in Tunisia was necessary to harden the American troops, who were now overfed and thinking and talking all the time about their three big meals a day. He said he thought our American troops were pampered.

Quezon has started work again on his book. Has rewritten the foreword. Warner Bros have offered to make a film of it. Much talk with Bernstein about terms and arrangements. Quezon does not think that Morgan Shuster has been careful enough in editing the English of his ms. He evidently wishes to be thought letter-perfect in English. He says he now wants to finish the book–can’t do it in Washington–too many interruptions. Requests me to go off with him for 20-30 days and work with him on the book.


June 2, 1942

More deaths in O’Donnell.

A mother heard her son was badly in need of medicine. She begged the authorities to let her see her son. After several days, her pleas were granted. She arrived in the prison camp with a doctor. When she saw her son, the last had just closed his eyes.

People are angry at Filipino high officials. Why don’t they make strong representations with the Japanese authorities? Why don’t they say bluntly, frankly, sternly that if as the Japanese claim, they are our “liberators,” then why don’t they free our sons and brothers and fathers and friends from the concentration camp?

My wife’s cousin broke into the house late last night with tears in his eyes. He received a crumpled sheet of paper from his son in camp. The boy was asking his father for medicine. He was very ill. My wife’s cousin wanted to find out if I could secure a permit to bring medicine for his son. “Surely,” he said, “there is nothing wrong in sending medicine to a dying son.” I brought him to Mrs. Vargas. She will try to use her influence. But maybe, it will be too late. I feel it in my bones.

A man came to the house this morning begging for alms. He was pale and thin and unkempt. He extended his hands tremblingly.

“Please, sir, can you give me some money? I would like to buy some medicine, sir.” His whole body was shivering.

I noticed his eyes. They seemed to be gazing nowhere. His eye sockets were yellow. But his eyes were piercing, penetrating and yet they looked dazed, unearthly.

I looked at his feet. They were swollen and his ankles were bandaged by black, dirty rags. They were feet that had walked and ran and had been soaked in mud and water.

He spoke haltingly, hesitatingly: “Sir, I am hungry. They did not want to give me food in the house over there. They told me I am strong enough to work. Please, sir, could you give me some food?”

This man, I thought, was no ordinary beggar.

“Who are you? I asked

He did not want to answer.

“Do not be afraid” I assured him.

And he told me his story.

“I was a soldier in Bataan. I escaped and walked through the mountains and the fields until I reached Manila. But when I arrived in my house, my family was no longer there. I do not know where they are. I cannot reveal to people that I am a soldier. The Japanese might arrest me.”

And then he opened his shirt. He had six wounds in his body. He was awarded the silver star for gallantry and the purple heart for his wounds.

I stood before the young veteran. Before me was a Filipino hero.

 


May 4, 1942

Mr. Fukada thinks I should organize a group to visit wounded Japanese soldiers in the various Army hospitals in the city. He said: “If you help Japanese soldiers, the High Command may permit you to also help Filipino soldiers.” Told this to my wife. She will refer the matter to Mrs. Vargas.

Mr. Isagii, assistant of Col. Uzaki, wants the price of rice in Parañaque investigated. I wonder why.

Planes have been active the whole day. Japanese aerial superiority has given them the initial advantage in this war. KGEI claims American factories are now geared for large-scale production of bombers. The men in the work-shops are just as important as the men in the front. Time is an essential factor in this war. If the Japanese are not able to entirely drive the Allies out of Asia, the Allies will in due time drive the Japanese back to the Japanese mainland. American production, her factories and workmen are playing a decisive role in this total war. The Japanese claim that fighting spirit will give Japan victory. The future alone will tell which holds the key to victory: Spirit or Production?


April 11, 1942

All Manila is quiet. Sad. I can feel the loneliness in the streets. A woman reading the Tribune in a newsstand burst into tears. Her husband was a soldier. The boy who skates on the pavement near the entrance to my office was sitting on the sidewalk, dejected. His elder brother was a soldier.

Met Mrs. Gruet. Her eyes were red and swollen. Her son is also in Bataan.

Lolita was weeping the whole day. She asked Mrs. Vargas by phone if the news about Bataan was true and Mrs. Vargas could not speak clearly because she was crying, too. Her son is also in Bataan.

My barber inquired if I could ask the Japanese in my office what treatment the Filipino soldiers would receive. Would they be concentrated? Released? Killed? He was worried about his three sons. He gave them all to the Army.

The Japanese in the next house are singing, drinking, shouting.

In my house, everything is quiet. I can hear my daughters mumbling their prayers…

Uppermost on our minds was my son, Philip. What has happened to him?