Teodoro M. Locsin

(December 24, 1914 -- January 20, 2001). Journalist, novelist, short story writer, poet. At the time these diary entries were written, staff writer in the Philippines Free Press.

December 15, 1941

We all have our problems. A man I know is in love with a lovely girl –truly lovely– who is constantly sleeping with other men.

December 16, 1941

There was no alarm last night. In the morning the people got out of their beds, rubbed their eyes in the chill light of dawn

December 17, 1941

Still no raid last night. Soldiers, however, in a fanatical determination to enforce the blackout to the letter, kept firing shots in the air throughout

December 18, 1941

It was another raidless night –the fifth in a row. This morning Escolta was full of people again. Some were even buying. A few picked

December 19, 1941

No raid last night. Slept well. Rose early. U.S. Army headquarters confirmed bombing of Iloilo City yesterday. More than 30 planes participated in the raid

December 20, 1941

Still no raid last night. What’s happened to the war? One day, the wolf said to the jackal, my friend, let us attack the bear.

December 21, 1941

Today the fighting increased in intensity in Davao. The situation, said Army headquarters, “remained obscure”. There was patrol activity south of Vigan and north of

December 22, 1941

I am writing this under a small funnel of light in a blacked-out room. I can see a book, a pack of cigarettes, a pile

December 23, 1941

The war reveals the parasite, the non-essential man self-confessed. He who does not produce is regarded, with suddenly clear eyes, as an enemy. In peacetime

December 24, 1941

Today was bad. They bombed the city. I was in Wilson Building. I had a ringside seat. I saw the bombers —nine of them, in

December 25, 1941

Home all day. There was no work, and there was no place to go. At noon, waves of Japanese bombers circled and circled over the

December 26, 1941

We are now reconciled –there were six alarms today– to having an air raid announce breakfast, serve lunch and interrupt dinner. One wonders at the

December 27, 1941

All night last night the fire across the river continued to burn and the smoke roll across the moon-lighted sky. It made quite a picture,

December 28, 1941

Today in the papers the evidence of the enemy’s bad aim the day before. It was very bad, indeed. “Now, nobody is safe.” Among the

December 29, 1941

The war holds your problems in grateful suspension. You almost dread the coming of peace which will once more precipitate them. For the moment, they