Five months have gone by since I last wrote, and so many things have taken place – too numerous for me to remember.
On June 21, 1943, the guerrillas entered the city at 2:00 a.m. burning many houses in La Paz and Jaro. Our house and vicinity was surrounded by guerrillas. One guerrilla shot out the light on our front porch! The Japanese started firing, and we all went downstairs and lay down on the floor while machine guns were firing all around us! This lasted for an hour before all was quiet again. For three nights the guerrillas came in during the night and left at daybreak. We are always on the alert. During these times, many people went to the churches to sleep. The churches here, as you know are very solid, with walls a meter thick built by the Spaniards many years ago. After this, everything was calm for the next eight months until February 11, 1944, the eve of Abraham Lincoln’s birthday. We had been asleep for a few hours when we were awakened at 11:00 p.m. by a volley of shots. We immediately went downstairs to the shelter – Roland grabbed his pillow and blanket and was the first one down. The guerrillas had entered Jaro and La Paz again and were setting fires to the homes. Fortunately, our house is isolated and far from the location where the fires are usually set.