Monday, May 24, 1943

Barracks nearing completion across the creek—no one has seen them yet! Well-driving machinery to be here this week from Manila. I know the postholes were finished today and will be enclosed with barbed wire in a few days—9 P.M. three Tribunes arrived this afternoon, May 20, 21 and 22. I’d say they were encouraging. Nothing new today. No one seems to know much about the plans for the camp, although the native workmen are building all the time. Things are taking shape—’tis said—but that is all anyone knows…


August 1,1942

Rejuvenation Training for the 1,400 POW here had been going on for over two weeks now under a Japanese Adm. team headed by Mr. Hamamoto with his impeccable Harvard English and American knowledge that impressed us. The majority of the POWs are definitely biased concluding that we were simply being “brainwashed.” I listened to every guest speaker and tried to understand what they were saying. That way I can determine not “who” is right but “what” is right. There are many subjects discussed relevant to an independent Philippines we expected in 1946.

This Training will terminate in about a week and I heard we will all be asked to serve the new Phil. Gov’t. under the management of Jorge Vargas.


June 30, 1942

Lifted my telephone, overheard a conversation:

“Don’t you recognize me?”

“Who… who are you?”

“Guess.”

“I can’t imagine. If you don’t tell me who you are, I will have to close the phone. I do not speak to strangers.”

“It’s me darling, it’s me. Teddy.”

“Darling… Teddy… you’re back… oh, I’m so happy.”

“I’m so happy too. I never dreamt I’d be able to hear your voice again.”

“Tell me how you are? Are you all right? Have you also got malaria?”

“Yes, once in a while. Had an attack yesterday. But let’s not talk about myself. How are you? Have you put on weight? Do you still play tennis? Can… can I see you tomorrow?”

“One at a time, Ted. Yes, I’m alright. I lost weight. And of course, you can see me tomorrow. First thing in the morning. And you’re going to have lunch with me. And by the way, bring Johnnie along, too.”

“Oh Johnnie… why, he… he…”

“Don’t tell me that Johnnie…”

“Yes… while on patrol… Please tell Nena. He told me that in case he doesn’t come back to tell Nena he was always thinking of her. He seemed to have a premonition.”

“How can I tell her that?”

‘‘That was his last wish.”

“Is there no chance of his being alive?”

“I’m afraid not, besides… oh, well, we had better talk about this in your house. Not over the telephone.”

I’ll wait for you tomorrow, then.”

“By the way, Mary … do you … do you still love me? Or is there someone else?”

I closed the phone. That would be eavesdropping!

 


June 28, 1942

Tears.

Tears of joy.

Mothers embracing sons as they walked out of the prison camp in O’Donnell.

It was the most touching sight ever seen in this country. The defeated troops have been allowed to return to their homes.

The Tribune carries the picture of a Filipino private with his USAFFE cap walking with a piece of stick on one hand, to support his thin body. On his haggard face, was a faint smile. He had done his duty to his country. His family surrounded him and his mother was supporting his left hand.

There were tragedies too.

Some boys died on the train on their way home. Release had come too late.

One mother arrived in camp very happy. She brought a jitney for her son. When his name was called, there was no son. The mother was worried. One soldier said: “He just died, madam.”

Even Japanese soldiers watching the meeting between parents and sons who had served their country shed tears.

War is blood and tears.

 


June 22, 1942

Shoreham Hotel.

Quezon returned from a conference with Secretary Ickes, whom he greatly likes.

He is getting more interested every day in composing ideas for his book, which I am glad to see. Today, he expressed his wish not to have any controversial subjects in this war story, but will save them for the biography he wishes to write later. He may insert Japanese atrocity stories of their invasion of the Philippines, but only “as told to him”–not as being of his knowledge true. This settles neatly a ticklish question of policy.

Quezon observed that Assistant Secretary of State Sumner Welles is more “effective” than our old friend Hull, and believes it best to sound him out first on any plans for the future of the Philippines.

Stated that he had told ex-Vice Governor Hayden that in his book he had been so kind about him that he felt he could say in criticism only that Hayden appeared to be an adherent of Governor General Wood–“You are still a Republican”–Hayden reddened. Quezon told him that the theory that Leonard Wood had “saved” Philippine finances was ridiculous. “If I had not stopped him, he would have thrown away assets worth three hundred million pesos in the Philippines.” Hayden replied “I suppose you mean the railroad, bank, etc.”

Lord Halifax had given Quezon a luncheon. This was the day after Quezon’s first appearance upon the Pacific War Council. Halifax said to Quezon at luncheon: “I liked your remark to the press.” Quezon said he liked Lady Halifax better than he did her husband. She had told Halifax after luncheon: “You’d better have a talk with President Quezon–You may learn something.”

Mrs. Quezon who was then present with us, had just attended a luncheon given for her by Mrs. Sayre. Sayre is about to resign as High Commissioner. She told Mrs. Quezon that there had been a broadcast from Manila in May arranged by the Japanese. In it an American lady told how the American civilian prisoners at Santo Tomas in Manila were allowed to establish their own form of government; had their own entertainments and their own schools for their children. Exercise was allowed daily in Santo Tomas grounds etc. She then added that their chief concern was that they had no milk for their children–at this point a Japanese spokesman interrupted and said: “That is the fault of the Americans for destroying all supplies before we arrived.” I asked Mrs. Quezon if it was true that they had destroyed all the food supplies before going to Corregidor, and she replied “Of course.”

I then asked Quezon further about his famous luncheon with the Japanese Emperor in 1937–whether the Emperor had offered him any “special treaties” (n.b. this was one of the questions recently submitted to Quezon by the Cosmopolitan). He said “no.” I asked him whether Ambassador Grew’s annoyance with this whole affair had not changed the United States Government’s attitude toward Quezon for a time. He said not; that President Roosevelt and Secretary Hull were all right, but that he might have had some enemies, like Stanley Hornbeck, the “Far Eastern expert” in the State Department. Denied that the State Department had interfered to spoil his subsequent trip to Mexico; that the Mexican President had sent him his gorgeous $500,000 train,–“like a hotel” to convey him to Mexico City.

Told the story of his shift in plans during his escape to Australia in going from Dumaguete by speed boat with Lieutenant Bulkeley across to Mindanao. Wainwright had wired him that there were five Japanese destroyers in the straits, and it was inadvisable to go now–better to postpone. But Colonel Soriano together with Major Fernando of the Philippine Army Air Corps had just spent several hours in one of those old planes off Negros waters. They had sighted only one Japanese destroyer, which at 6 p.m. had gone off towards the Sulu Sea. So, after midnight, when he and his family, having received Wainwright’s warning message, had gotten nearly all the way back from Dumaguete to Bais (20 miles), Soriano caught up with them in the dark, and he and Bulkeley advised Quezon to turn around again and take the chance of getting across that night to Mindanao. Quezon accepted.

To an enquiry as to whether Mrs Quezon ever expressed her opinions about such decisions on this dangerous voyage; he replied: “Never; she always did just what I decided.” I then enquired how he had felt about the possibility of his capture by the Japanese? He said he did his best to avoid capture, but he always felt that if taken by them, they would treat him with every consideration, and probably put him right back in Malacañan.

He added that he thought Chief Justice Jose Abad Santos had gotten caught by the Japanese in Cebu. (N.B. they shot him there).

Exchange of cables between Quezon in Corregidor and Roosevelt: Quezon advised him that he was in grave doubts as to whether he should encourage his people to further resistance since he was satisfied that the United States could not relieve them; that he did not see why a nation which could not protect them should expect further demonstrations of loyalty from them. Roosevelt in reply, said he understood Quezon’s feelings and expressed his regret that he could not do much at the moment. He said: “go ahead and join them if you feel you must.” This scared MacArthur. Quezon says: “If he had refused, I would have gone back to Manila.” Roosevelt also promised to retake the Philippines and give them their independence and protect it. This was more than the Filipinos had ever had offered them before: a pledge that all the resources and man power of United States were back of this promise of protected independence. So Quezon replied: “I abide by your decision.”

I asked him why he supposed Roosevelt had refused the joint recommendation of himself and MacArthur. He replied that he did not know the President’s reasons. Osmena and Roxas had said at the time that he would reject it. Roosevelt was not moved by imperialism nor by vested interests, nor by anything of that sort. Probably he was actuated by unwillingness to recognize anything Japan had done by force (vide Manchuria). Quezon thinks that in Washington only the Chief of Staff (General Marshall) who received the message from MacArthur in private code, and Roosevelt himself, knew about this request for immediate independence.

When Quezon finally got to the White House, Roosevelt was chiefly concerned about Quezon’s health. Roosevelt never made any reference to their exchange of cables.

Quezon added that, so far as he was aware, the Japanese had never made a direct offer to the United States Government to guarantee the neutrality of the Philippines, but many times they made such an offer to him personally.

“It was not that I apprehended personally ill treatment from the Japanese” said Quezon; “What made me stand was because I had raised the Philippine Army–a citizen army–I had mobilized them in this war. The question for me was whether having called them, I should go with this army, or stay behind in Manila with my people. I was between the Devil and the deep sea. So I decided that I should go where the army did. That was my hardest decision–my greatest moral torture. I proposed by cable to President Roosevelt that the United States Government should advise the Japanese that they had granted independence to the Philippines. This should have been done before the invasion and immediately after the first Japanese attack by air. The Japanese had repeatedly offered to guarantee the neutrality of an independent Philippines. This was what they thought should be done.” Quezon is going to propose the passage by Congress of a Joint Resolution, as they did in the case of Cuba, that “the Philippines are and of right out to be independent” and that “the United States would use their armed forces to protect them.”

When asked by Shuster to try to describe his own frame of mind when he was told at 5:30 a.m. Dec. 8 of the attack on Pearl Harbor, Quezon said he had never believed that the Japanese would dare to do it; but since they had done so, it was at once evident that they were infinitely more powerful than had been supposed– therefore he immediately perceived that the Philippines were probably doomed.

In Washington the other day, he asked the Chinese Ambassador whether the Japanese had not fooled all the rest of the world by pretending to be weak. The ambassador just laughed. Quezon says that if consulted, he would have advised the Chinese to take a leaf from the Japanese book on cunning. The Japanese had been checked in their expansion plans three times, (after each of their three successful wars), by the concert of Great Powers–each time they “bowed their head” and submitted. Finally, after waiting nearly half a century, their chance had come, and they took it. So, if the Chinese, at the time the “China Incident” broke had pretended to submit, then allowed themselves to be armed and trained by the Japanese, they would only have had to wait their chance.


April 30, 1942

Submitted to Mrs. Escoda the following list embodying the urgent needs of war prisoners in accordance with wishes expressed by officers and men now in Capaz.

I. FOOD

A. Organization: N.F.W.C., Girl’s Scouts, etc.

B. Necessary items: 1, rice; 2. mongo; 3. salt; 4. sugar, panocha; 5. camote, cassava, gabi; 6. lime, calamansi; 7. galletas, biscuits; 8. bananas, papaya, mangoes, guavas—any kind of fruit in season; 9. coffee, tea, ginger; 10. milk; 11. salted eggs.

II. MEDICAL SUPPLIES

A. Organization: Department of Health

B. Necessary items: 1. quinine, iodine, mercurochrome; 4. disinfectants (kreso, lysol, bichloride); 5. alcohol; 6. muslin for bandages; 7. tape; 8. cotton or kapok; 9. sulfathiazol.

III. CLOTHING

A. Organization: Women’s Committee

B. Necessary items; 1. undershirts, shirts, shorts, sweaters, socks; 2. blankets; 3. shoes, slippers; 4. towels.

IV. FINANCE

1. Personal solicitation. 2. Contribution in kind.

V. TRANSPORTATION

A men’s committee to take charge of arrangements for trucks, jitneys, etc., to transport personnel and supplies.

VI. UTENSILS

1. Cooking; 2. forks, knives, spoons, pans, bottles; 3. pitchers, basins; 4. rake, shovel, pick, brooms; 5. empty cans for glasses; 6. tissue paper; 7. empty gasoline cans for water and water wagons.

VII. DISTRIBUTION

1. Bureau of Health; 2. Women’s committee. 

VIII. FIELD WORKERS

Field workers operating under groups in charge of distribution are to be limited to Bureau of Health doctors, nurses, social workers There must be a strong, aggressive, efficient leader.

IX. GENERAL SUPPLIES

1. fuel; 2. cigarettes; 3. matches

The chief consideration is time. Relief must reach the camps with as little loss of time possible if more deaths are to be averted. Average deaths per day according to more accurate reports are over five hundred.

The Japanese are still very strict. They do not permit visitors. They prohibit relatives from sending food and medicine to the captives.

There is a rumor that one of the staff officers of the Japanese Army called Gen. Homma’s attention to the inhuman treatment accorded Filipino and American war prisoners. Gen. Homma was said to have answered: “Let them die, to atone for the thousands among us that also died.”

Today’s Tribune shows pictures of Recto, Yulo and Paredes drinking a toast with Japanese staff officers in a Malacañan reception.

Teofilo Yldefonso, world-famous breaststroker, several years Far Eastern Olympics’ record holder, died in Capaz. He was wounded in Bataan. In the concentration camp, gangrene developed in his wounds. No medicine could get to him. He died in a lonely nipa shed.

Today’s Tribune carriers a front-page item in bold type entitled “Correction” which gives an idea of Japanese mentality. The story follows:

“In yesterday’s editorial we made a mistake using the words ‘His Imperial Highness’ instead of ‘His Imperial Majestry.’ We hereby express our sincere regret about the matter.”

The Japanese soldier is not merely fired with patriotism. He is also inspired by a religious motive. The Emperor is his god.

Philip’s intimate friend, Johnnie Ladaw, was reported killed in Bataan, two hours after surrender. He was machine-gunned by a tank. Johnnie was No. 3 national ranking [tennis] player. He defeated Frank Kovacs of the U.S. at the Rizal court several months before the war.

When I look at our tennis court, I seem to see him. He was always smiling. Maybe he died smiling…


April 21, 1942

Capas, Tarlac

F.C. Camp

Joined the grave-detail. We buried those that died this morning. Some of the graves yesterday were not dug deep enough. The bodies buried yesterday have been unearthed. The sand here is clayish because the cemetery is too near the river.

One of the boys we buried had a little piece of paper in his pocket. We opened it. It was the copy of a citation awarding him for exceptional bravery in an attack in Bataan.

(later)

Most of the boys in the camp are very depressed. They feel that “it will be a long time before we are released.”

Many are disappointed with our leaders in Manila. “All they know is to give speeches and make promises!” “Why don’t they resign from their posts if the Japs do not want to release us?”

Personally, I don’t think we will be released until all resistance in the islands has ceased. The Japs are afraid that when we are strong enough, we might start trouble again. Besides, they want to make up for the thousands of Japs who died in Bataan. The more among us that die here, the better for them.

(later)

Collecting impressions of everyone here about Bataan. It will make a book someday. Am also listening to everybody’s experience during the long walk from Bataan to this prison camp.

Apparently, the Japs gave every barch more or less the same kind of treatment, although some groups got very much worse treatment.

Consensus is that at least 15,000 died during that bloody march. Japs bayoneted men who could not keep up with the pace. Very little rest was given. Some were shot for trying to escape.

For example, there was an old soldier who took off his shoes because of blisters. Suddenly, one of the Japs clubbed him on the head. A relative of the clubbed man charged at the Jap. Both fellows were tied to a tree and slowly tortured. Their shouts could be heard by all those around, but no one was allowed to look.

Someone said that in Orani, everybody was searched. One fellow was found with Jap money in his pocket. The Jap soldier said in broken English: “Why you have Jap money? So maybe you take that from dead Jap soldier! O.K… Now you die!” And he was bayoneted in the lungs. According to the one telling the story, the Jap money was given by a Japanese officer who bought the boy’s watch.

After such exchange of stories, everybody ends the conversation with the remark: “Someday we will get even, someday.”

Very few boys in camp think that Corregidor will be able to stand. Quite a number are disappointed at America. They ask: “Where is the convoy she promised?” The great majority believe, however, “in due time, when American factories get going, Japan will be beaten.”

Must stop writing. It’s getting dark. We have no lights here.

Two boys are humming a duet. Kundiman again. I like kundimans. They are soft, plaintive, full of feeling, lonely, very lonely.

They have stopped singing. Somebody in the group is weeping. I wonder why.

(later)

Just ate another camote. Superb.

[diary does not resume until September 21, 1944]


February 16, 1942

Martial law is severe, ruthless. It knows no leniency. Three British internees were made to dig three graves and then they were executed in the Santo Tomas concentration camp as an example to all other internees. The Britishers tried to escape.

It is hard to argue with the Japanese. This morning’s Tribune carries a news item from the Manila Defense Command advising civilians of Manila to cooperate with the sentries and approach them in a friendly manner. “The advice,” says the Tribune, “has been given because civilians run away when sentries approach them.” Everything has been twisted. Now it is the civilians at fault. Black has become white.

Reminded Supervisor Noya of the suggestion I made at the Rice Growers Meeting last Saturday that out of the 1 1/2% milling tax paid by producers and merchants which is equivalent to .0975 if rice costs 6.50, 3 centavos be set aside for the operation of the NARIC. Mr. Noya will take the matter up with the Japanese High Command as he believes the proposition will further help to stabilize the finances of the corporation.

The British forces in Singapore have unconditionally surrendered. It must have been a bitter, humiliating experience for the Britishers. Is this the end of British imperialism?

Saw a Japanese officer and a white girl enter a side door. He was old; she was young. Such is life.