First raid on the Rock—unknown number of HBs and 13 DBs—How many HBs shot down-one to No. 1 gun of James. From then on raids at same time of day; day in, day out—Me lying in the pit spotting planes, chewing tobacco, unconcerned and Minnis and Aprai down there on a visit—Thank goodness Ramsay wasn’t there—the timid soul in person. Mona-seaplane, airplane, M and C sea-jap shooting at own floating pilot-nine dog fights “Blue Goose.” Made sgt. Wheeler No. 3 was hit—wanted volunteers for crew to take it over—yes, I would—Yaeger, Knisley, Mason, McKinney, Jaks, Jaegers, Parks, me-Parks, the only one of the original crew, and McGovern. The place was wrecked—Tyko, Judgill, and Kelly dead—everyone else hurt or scratched up or frightened to death. Lots of work but finally everything in shape—short on water but Battery Wheeler feeds fair-better than cracked wheat-rice and Vienna sausage are delicious. What is the matter with Marviles [Mariveles]? The dry dock is gone—there goes the ammunition ship—Three PTs going out the harbor—The damn japs must have sneaked in and sunk them (the drydock and ammo ship.) Looking through the glasses at the ammo ship when she went up—one big blast and absolutely nothing else—a few smoking embers on the shore and a little oil burning in places where she was—the air blast trying to hit them (our own boats leaving but returned without orders.) Why don’t we fire on the long streams of trucks and men going up the roads behind Mariveles? Why? Why? Why?—Bataan has fallen-boats coming around from tip of Cochina firing at them—God they must be soldiers trying to escape from Bataan to the Rock—No identification of them—We can’t take any chances—boat landing at Mona—three soldiers and a Pino escaped from Bataan—answer to Why? Why? Why? U.S. PWs in with the japs so can’t—terrific artillery from Bataan—constant air raids—plenty of action—Geary blows up—pieces as big as flat cars in the air-barrels of 12” mortars on the golf course. Thank God only 12 men killed—actually prayed due to very close bombs—only three planes—watched them—pits-ammo-water down back-ground quivering-dust fumes—McKinney and I caught in barrage and bombing going to James after watching 155s firing—two rounds a gunout—literally smothered by the counterfire coming in—tough game but so far so good—took a few seconds rest in a hole where excavating a dud bomb taking place—what a place to do so–.50 ammo hit—salvage and test fire .50s, 30s, BARS, rifles, pistols, everything for beach defense. O.K. except pits don’t allow enough depression—remedied—Photo Joe—sausage balloon

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