I went to town with Jerry to hunt for bread but there was none so we’ll get along on rice and hotcakes now and then. Flour cannot be bought at the moment.
Carl has organized a “spotting system” for siren signals on approaching planes with about ten American men from the Chinese Language School which has closed with others by government order. In the middle of the night when it grew cold I thought hose men and phoned Carl in the morning who said they surely would like mufflers and warm socks if we had any. So I gave out wool to the British women to make socks and Balaclavas (head and neckpiece combined). They are expert knitters, have completed all their projects and were only too glad to work.
I it astonishing how quickly one adjusts to circumstances. I don’t mind being downtown in a raid half as much as I did. On the way home [from town] Jerry and I had to duck into a culvert. We could hear the roar of planes clearly overhead.
Jerry is now head of coordinating the phone system of alarms.
Another astounding thing is how fast time goes. It doesn’t seem a week since the first bombing. Actual living is simple tor we have dispensed with doilies and other formalities. Meals are easy to cook, but it takes longer to do anything and transportation is so shot that everything is difficult.
While I was waiting at the Shell Station, one of the Filipino boys brought me an exquisite Magnolia bloom, its fragrance appreciated a thousand times more after hiding behind stone pillars with eighteen planes overhead.
We have a light in our shelter now. One more cross-section, the “raise” to give ventilation and a rear exit—then it will be complete. Jerry will be relieved to have the emergency outlet ready.
There are many stories flying around—one good tale about some Igorot mountaineers bringing in Japanese trussed up in nets like animals. Tough on the captives.