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August 4, 1944

I went to Santo Tomas yesterday with Dorothy’s pass for renewal. Saw old Mrs. G. who looks so ill. Her husband is still in Fort Santiago. The Japs renewed her pass without question. I had to wait at the entrance gate while the guard took my case up to the ofice. I dropped a note behind the bench on which I was sitting and saw feet slowly walking on the other side of the fence. A hand reached to pick up the note and I knew it would get to the rightful person.

If the internees were even getting fair war-prisoner treatment, we would not be so dreadfully uneasy. But they aren’t. Several more cancer cases have been sent out to the Philippine General Hospital. I went to see them a day or two ago and they told me what is really happening. The Japanese are trying to break down their morale by starvation and petty vexations, such as frequent roll calls, undignified labor assignments, surprise inspections. They may starve them, but American morale will not break.

It was sad to learn of Quezon’s death. As I took a look at the bay the other day, full of dilapidated dirty ships, the filthy streets, the famed luneta fenced off with barbed wire, the foxholes, gun emplacements, trenches and all the awful evidence of war, I thought how tragic it was that Quezon could not live to bring Manila back to her old glory.