March 10, 1945

The diary is not doing so well. The days dash by so quickly. It will be a month tomorrow since we in Pasay first saw those glorious paratroopers in our streets. Those husky, lusty boys, those wonderful lads. That had been a rough time, those days between the taking of Santo Tomas and the arrival of the paratroopers. A reign …

February 25, 1945

Sunday. A fine Pepys am I but events move too fast to record. The massacre of the white people in this town sounds unbelievable, but it is true. I don’t understand why it is being hushed up in press and radio reports. They really aren’t telling very much about it, and I think it should be broadcast to the entire …

February 16, 1945

I sallied forth today to stock up on food. The market is burned, but people are bringing in a few fish and eggs and vegetables and strewing it in little stands in the streets near the market place. I came sailing back down Park Avenue, happy as could be to have discovered a bit of pork, some papayas and some …

February 13, 1945

Yesterday was wonderful, both wonderful and sad. The Americans are here, but it seems it is not yet over. The battle in the center of town is raging—the walled city is in ruins, and the dead are beyond counting. The Japanese are fighting like animals, desperate animals. The whine of shells from towards town is hideous and the bullets of …

February 12, 1945

Monday. Weariness threw me last night and I gave up, with the story half told. We had some of the officers to dinner with us and poor Janson got a little male company—after all of us females questioning him and worrying him for so long! We asked so many questions, and so did they. What we all don’t know would …

February 11, 1945

Wottaday, wottaday, last night we fought fire all night. Janson spent the night on the roof of the servants’ quarters nearest the wall by the barrio, pouring water on the flying sparks. A bucket brigade from the well kept his wife and me plenty busy. We’d pass the pails up to him, and rush back for more. We were so …

February 10, 1945

This must be the 10th. If so, it’s Saturday. This has been a twenty-four hours without parallel. There was a real battle just beyond our wall between guerrillas and Japanese. A small child was killed by stray bullets. The guerillas succeeded in chasing the Japanese elsewhere, but we don’t know for sure how it all turned out. The arson squad …

February 9, 1945

Friday, 6 p.m. The bombing has been terrific all afternoon, and many more fires are burning in our neighborhood. The Japanese are loading their stores on pushcarts and moving to a house on Taft Avenue. They are all under full pack and camouflaged with leaves. They only need a tail to make one think of beasts of burden, or just …

February 9, 1945

I got up very early this morning after several sorties during the night to see what was doing. We all had a little sleep. Even our wounded Felie feels much better. I made us some early coffee, aided her to get dressed, and the morning started off well. A dozen planes went switching back and forth across the sky but …