Photo from livelytimes.com
The following article is about Ben Steele - the central character in the book, Tears in the Darkness by Michael and Elizabeth Norman. Ben Steele is now 94 years old. He is one of the only few remaining survivors of that catastrophic event in the history of the Philippines today-The Bataan Death March.
WWII POW uses artwork to counter dark memories
By Joe Nickell Missoulian Mtstandard.com | Posted: Monday, October 3, 2011 12:00 am
MISSOULA (AP) — Ben Steele remembers it all. He vividly recalls the faces of the dead and dying along the roadside as he marched with thousands of other American prisoners of war from the Bataan Peninsula to the city of Capas in the Philippines. He remembers the bits of fire-pit charcoal that he squirreled to his prison cell and used to draw pictures of his beloved Montana on the floor. He remembers the coal mines of Japan, and even his hazy visits to death’s doorstep.
Of course, it helps that he has pictures of those experiences from that dark period of World War II. But unlike today’s soldiers, who often travel through war zones with cameras strapped to their bodies, Steele’s photographic record is his sharp memory, and his pictures all flowed from his hand.
“I have very vivid memories of what went on, because it was a gruesome and difficult situation,” says Steele, at 94 one of the last remaining survivors of the infamous Bataan Death March in which Japanese soldiers forced more than 75,000 malnourished, exhausted, injured and sick American and Filipino prisoners of war to march more than 60 miles over the course of less than a week, leading to the deaths of thousands of prisoners.
“I have lots of images in my head,” Steele adds. “I could paint them for the rest of my life. I don’t have trouble recalling anything in there; I can recall dates in the camp that I can’t remember in my normal life since. I was impressed very deeply by it.”
Fame of their own
In the decades since World War II ended, Steele’s memories — translated to 11 oil paintings and 78 stark charcoal drawings — have taken on a fame of their own, not only because they are among the only images that exist of the march, but also because of their raw emotional power.
A number of the images were featured in “Tears in the Darkness,” a best-selling 2009 book about the march by Elizabeth and Michael Norman, which also features Steele as a central character.
Now, the vast majority of Steele’s images from the Bataan Death March are on display at the University of Montana’s Montana Museum of Art and Culture, where they have come to reside as part of the state-owned museum’s permanent collection.
“These images form such an important part of Montana’s cultural history,” said Brandon Reintjes, curator at the MMAC. “They have almost a mythic back-story to them, they convey such a powerful and important lesson in history, and they’re truly a reflection of a powerful artistic vision that I think inspires everyone who encounters them.”
Something of a miracle
Indeed, the mere existence of Steele’s paintings and drawings is something of a miracle. After entering the U.S. Army Air Corps at age 22, Steele found himself caught up in one of the first and most protracted land battles of the war in the Pacific, as U.S. and Filipino forces attempted to defend the peninsula of Bataan in the Philippines.
The 99-day battle ended with the surrender of 76,000 U.S. troops, including Steele. It was one of the worst defeats in American military history.
Steele survived the legendary Death March, and ultimately spent three-and-a-half years as a prisoner of war in the Philippines and Japan. Crippled by a combination of dysentery, pneumonia, malaria, blood poisoning and Beriberi, Steele came so close to death that he was read his last rites by priests on two occasions.
Drawing to maintain sanity
To maintain his sanity, Steele began drawing — first employing nothing but a charred stick on the bare concrete floor, and later on paper that fellow prisoners supplied him.
Reached earlier this month at his home in Billings, Steele said that those drawings literally saved him.
“I was awful sick and I thought I was going crazy, so I had to do something to occupy my mind,” he said. “So I started to draw on the floor.”
At first, Steele drew images of cowboys and mountain scenes from his home state of Montana. In an earlier interview with Reintjes, Steele described the depth of his longing for home during that time.
“I used to dream about Montana more than anything else, more than I did food — and I used to dream about food all the time,” he said.
Then, as other prisoners began to take notice of Steele’s pastime, they suggested he draw what he saw around him. So Steele began creating depictions of life in the camp - at first on the floor; then on paper, with pencils that were smuggled to him.
Steele was later transported to Japan, where he worked as a forced laborer in coal mines. During that time, he was kept too busy to draw.
In 1945, he was finally liberated. But his drawings were lost.
Drawings lost, then re-created
“When I went to Japan in ‘44, I left the drawings with a chaplain, thinking he would get out when the Philippines were retaken,” says Steele. “But when he did get out, the ship he was on was sunk by the American Navy, so the drawings went down in the China Sea.”
So, during his yearlong recuperation at a hospital in Spokane, Steele re-created the lost drawings and several paintings.
“I hated to lose those drawings, but I was lucky to get home in one piece myself,” he says today. “So it didn’t bother me all that much, and it gave me something to do during my recovery.”
Following his recovery, Steele pursued a degree at the Cleveland Institute of Art, where he studied with noted artists George Grosz, Hans Mueller and Clarence Van Duzer. After receiving teaching credentials from Kent State University and a Master of Art degree from the University of Denver in 1955, Steele became a professor of art at Montana State University-Billings.
Emphasis on realism
But despite all that exposure to the ever-transforming art trends of the 20th century, Steele continued to devote himself to a creative aesthetic that emphasizes realism, brutal as it may be. Over time, he created several more images from the Death March — images which he considers his most important works.
“I kind of felt an obligation to the guys who went through that, to illustrate what went on over there,” he says. “I wanted to tell the story.”
In that sense, Steele knows he is different from many World War II veterans, who on the whole were notorious for their reticence about speaking of what they had experienced on the battlefields of the Asian and European theaters.
But, he says, opening up about his experiences was an important step in his own life.
“I didn’t talk about my experiences for years; and I have friends who won’t talk about it still,” he says. “But when I did all these artworks, it kind of opened me up because I had to explain them. It got me to talk about it very freely. I didn’t have any choice but to talk about it after I did the artwork. I think it helps you to talk about it. Some people ask me how I can draw that stuff, but it’s very easy because it’s so vivid in my mind.”
Copyright 2011 Mtstandard.com.
This is my wife and my own experiences as a child when war broke out in 1941. The war lasted until 1945. The photo shows General Douglas McArthur landing in Leyte liberating the Philippines from the Japanese invaders. Some photos and videos on this site, I do not own. However, I have no intention on infringing on your copyrights.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Ben Steele-A Survivor of the Bataan Death March
Yesterday, I posted my review of the book on the Bataan Death March, Tears in the Darkness. The protagonist in the book is Ben Steele, a cowboy from Montana who became a painter and Professor of Art after the war. In the first video, Ben Steele sketches and drawings are shown with his own description of the events. The next four videos are professional videos of the Bataan Death March up to the Raid of Cabanatuan-saving the prisoners of war from the camp in early, 1945 just before the end of the war. I hope you enjoy the videos.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Tears in the Darkness-My Book Review
I have just finished reading the above book. It is the story of the Bataan Death March and its aftermath. It was written by Michael and Elizabeth Norman in 2009. I recommend the book to all Filipino-Americans who are history nuts and to all who are history enthusiasts of the Japanese-American war in the Philippines (1941-1945). As a son of a former Filipino-American guerilla defender of the Philippines from the Japanese invaders, the book reminds me of my childhood fears as well as the valor and heroism of all the 76,000 Americans and Filipinos who died and survived from the first major land battle of World War II: the battle for the Philippine peninsula of Bataan. I have still nightmares remembering the sufferings of the Filipino and American prisoners from the hands of the Japanese two days after reading this book. But it was worth my time relieving history and the story of heroism and survival of one cowboy named, Ben Steele. The book describes in detail the 41 months of starvation, dehydration, hard labor, deadly diseases, tortures, murder and journey on "hell ships" of the Filipino and American prisoners of war to the enemy's homeland. Here's a short video of the book.
The following is one of the many reviews of this book when it was published in 2009. It was written by Dwight Garner of the New York Times on June 17, 2009. He titled it "Revisiting Wartime: 66 miles of Cruelty".
“Tears in the Darkness” is authoritative history. Ten years in the making, it is based on hundreds of interviews with American, Filipino and Japanese combatants. But it is also a narrative achievement. The book seamlessly blends a wide-angle view with the stories of many individual participants. And at this book’s beating emotional heart is the tale of just one American soldier, a young cowboy and aspiring artist out of Montana named Ben Steele.
This story begins in earnest on Dec. 7, 1941, the day the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. Japan had planned to attack American military bases in the Philippines, where the peninsula of Bataan lies, at the same time, but its bombers and fighter planes were delayed by fog, eliminating the element of surprise, Japan thought. But when its planes flew over, eight hours after Pearl Harbor, the American planes sat on runways, inexplicably, like sitting ducks. It was carnage.
Two weeks later Japan invaded the Philippines. The poorly trained and untested American and Filipino forces were overmatched; they eventually retreated into the mountainous jungles of Bataan for a brutal last stand, one that the Normans, who are husband and wife, describe as “a modern Thermopylae.”
After four months of intense fighting, the Allied forces — their ranks decimated by hunger, dysentery and malaria, and with no relief or reinforcements in sight — surrendered. “No American general had ever surrendered such a force,” the Normans write, “76,000 men, an entire army.”
The authors are sympathetic toward Ned King, the surrendering American major general, who was beloved by his men. (General King made it clear to his soldiers that he had surrendered, not they.) Mr. and Ms. Norman reserve their scorn for the initial Allied general overseeing Bataan, Douglas MacArthur, whom they accuse of not leading from the field and later abandoning his men there.
What is now known as the Bataan Death March began on April 10, 1942. Some 76,000 soldiers, many already close to death, were forced to walk 66 miles during the hottest season of the year — there were almost no buildings along the way, no trees, no shade — with little food and almost no water.
It was called a death march for a simple reason: if you stopped marching, you were killed, by bayonet or rifle. There were many other ways to die during the Bataan Death March; it was a spree of arbitrary brutality. For sport, Japanese soldiers fractured skulls with their rifle butts. Japanese tanks ran over men who fell. Good Samaritans who tried to help fallen comrades were beaten or stabbed. Men were forced to bury others alive.
To be on this march, one soldier said, was what it must feel like to “come to the end of civilization.” Some 11,000 died along the way to the ultimate destination, a prison camp.
What’s remarkable about this story, for Ben Steele and many others, was that it was just the beginning of the horrors that awaited them as Japanese prisoners of war. There are accounts here of train journeys in deadly, overheated box cars; of foul prison camps and hospitals filled with dying men; of being placed into the holds of transport ships like “pickles jammed into a jar”; of work details that were their own kinds of death marches. Many men who didn’t die simply lost their minds.
There are many Japanese voices in “Tears in the Darkness.” Mr. and Ms. Norman don’t excuse Japan’s actions, but place them in careful context. Japanese soldiers, they write, were the products of “a closed world of violence where men were subjected to the most brutal system of army discipline in the world.” These soldiers “had been savaged to produce an army of savage intent.”
Mr. Norman is a Vietnam veteran and formerly a reporter for The New York Times; Ms. Norman’s books include “Women at War: The Story of Fifty Military Nurses Who Served in Vietnam.” In this book they step back, at regular intervals, to explain dispassionately what it was like to undergo the experiences these men went through.
What are the physics of suffocation? How does a bomb blast actually kill a person? What exactly does lack of water do to a human body? “Tears in the Darkness” is a grim and comprehensive catalog of man’s inhumanity to man.
In the end, though, “Tears in the Darkness” is a book about heroism and survival. All along you are glued, out of the corner of your eye, to one story, Ben Steele’s. If you aren’t weeping openly by the book’s final scenes, when he is at last able to call home and let his family know that he is still alive after more than three years “missing in action,” during which time this thin young man lost 50 pounds, then you have a hard crust of salt around your soul".
Note: I purchased this book last week, hard bound for $6.95 ( bargained price) from Barnes and Nobles. It is also available on line on Amazon new or used.
Monday, August 13, 2012
My Childhood Experiences during the Japanese-American War in the Philippines
Battle of Correjidor and the Bataan Death March
War is a terrible thing to happen. Few among us have heard the stories of civilians in the war zones. I saw and lived the anxieties and horrors of the Japanese-American war through the eyes of a child. This article (Part 1) received the ViewsHound Gold Prize of $50 in 2011. ViewsHound is now a defunct writing site formerly based in UK.
Life in the time of war is a difficult experience for a child. All school and play activities are interrupted. Survival amidst the chaos becomes a paramount goal in life. Our family had to uproot ourselves from the comfort of home and move several times to the hard life in the countryside. We had to avoid the conflict and the bombing in the city.
We chose a life of peace and quiet away from the invading Japanese troops. Due to the language barrier, the Japanese instilled order and dominance of the conquered using fear, by hurting or killing innocent civilians, resulting in the rise of the resistance movement. For every day that passes, there was the dream of peace, but during the lengthy war period, one had to expect the worst before anything good happened.
Before the war started, we lived a comfortable life in our home in the city of Jaro, Iloilo located in the central Philippine island of Panay. My father had a dental practice and we had our farm landholdings around the province. It was 13 days before my 7th birthday when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in Hawaii in the morning of December 7, 1941.
On that evening, Japanese planes had taken off to attack several targets in the Philippines, which was then an American colony. It was the start of the Japanese invasion of the Philippines, and the reign of fear was about to begin.
I was in 2nd grade at the Jaro Elementary School when Japan started bombing the bigger cities of the country. When we heard the terrifying news, my parents became concerned for our safety and decided to get out of the city, a possible bombing target.
They chose to move to our farm in the small town of Barotac Viejo, Iloilo, my mother’s ancestral town 60 kilometers north of Jaro. It was a time of panic, chaos and fear over what was to happen in the city. We were about to leave our cherished home and anxiously head to the unfamiliar and unknown.
Within a couple of days all the essential items we could bring were already packed. All the furniture and the huge and heavy items were left behind. My mother had all her china and silverware buried in the backyard for safekeeping.
We found out later that our house was bombed and totally destroyed. All the furniture were either destroyed or stolen. All the china and silverware was dug up and stolen. Despite the losses, we were grateful that we made a wise decision and survived unharmed.
For a short period we settled in a small farm house of our tenant in a remote district of town. As the war progressed, we were informed that the Japanese forces had penetrated most of the big cities in the country and were starting to occupy smaller towns. My father was a captain and dental officer of the newly organized Philippine guerrillas, an underground resistance movement to fight the Japanese. As a precaution, he decided to move our family a second time, to the jungle in the interior of Panay Island.
We had to walk for three days through the woods of the jungle, cross over numerous creeks and climb over mountains with the help and guidance of our farmer tenants. Our trek ended and we settled in a hidden valley lined by a creek with clean running water. Our tenants built us a hut for shelter made of bamboo and nipa palm, an outdoor kitchen and a dining area.
They used a bamboo cart pulled by a water Buffalo to bring us supplies of rice, salt, sugar and other spices regularly. In the valley we cleared the land to plant vegetables, corn and sweet potatoes. We also raised chickens and ducks for eggs, pigs for protein and goats for milk.
One of the scariest events while living in the jungle was when our pig livestock were preyed upon by a python snake measuring about 30 feet long. It was pitch black at night when we heard our two pigs squealing out loud in fear. My father instructed our helper to inspect the pig pen using a kerosene lamp. He saw the snake strangling one of the pigs. He struck and killed the python using his machete and a piece of wood, sadly, our small pig also died. That whole week we had protein in our meals. It was proof that the jungles of Panay are inhabited by dangerous pythons.
We had no pet with us. I chose the chickens and the goats to become my pets. I raised one of the chickens; it slept with me, got attached to me and kept trailing me wherever I go. My mother tolerated my unusual pets because I had no peers my age aside from my younger brother.
To continue with our education, my father home schooled us together with two of my older cousins. For four hours each day we were taught arithmetic, spelling and history. We were lucky to have brought with us a few books on Philippine and US history. Whenever our tenants brought us food supplies, they would update us on news about the status of the Japanese occupation.
Late in the war when the Japanese brutality and atrocities appeared to have stopped, we moved again from the jungle to a seaside village. We stayed at the house of another tenant. My father warned us not to talk to any stranger, and if asked, to avoid giving our real last name of Katague and instead provide an alias which was Katigbak. There were unverified rumors that the Japanese had a list of names of all the guerrillas, which might have included my father. Some traitor Filipinos worked as spies for the Japanese by pinpointing the guerrillas in exchange for favors.
One day, we saw a platoon of uniformed Japanese soldiers armed with guns and bayonets passing by our village. My brother and I watched them march while hiding in the bushes. I knew their brutal reputation towards the natives, and I was afraid of us being seen and getting in trouble. I was relieved that nothing happened and they continued with their march to the next village.
A terrible incident happened to about 30 of my maternal relatives while we were living in the jungle. They were similarly hiding and living in the jungle on a mountain ridge next to us. They were killed by the Japanese soldiers who discovered and penetrated their location with the help of the spies. A handicapped relative in a wheelchair was spared. During the massacre, she fell on the creek and must have been left for dead. She lived to tell the tragic story. This is only one example of many atrocities that was committed by the Japanese to the Filipino civilians.
When General MacArthur landed in Leyte on October 1944, it was the happiest day for the Filipinos, the Americans were back to save us from the Japanese tyranny. The Japanese troops started to retreat and surrender. The chance for peace in the Philippines was welcomed with excitement. The schools were planning to reopen. There was no more need to live in hiding and in fear, and to lie about one’s name. We were able to live free from the oppressors.
From the seaside village we moved to another district much closer to town where we built a bigger house. At the back of the property was a hill, and on a clear day, from the top of the hill you could see the nearby island of Negros. We used it as an observation hill where we could watch the Japanese and American planes flying and then fighting each other. My brother and I witnessed two planes attacking each other, with one plane being blown to pieces and burning as it fell from the sky to the sea between Panay and Negros islands. It was a thrilling dogfight show to watch, although we never found out the victor.
When school reopened, we were required to take a test to determine which grade level we would qualify for. I passed the test for a 4th grade level. I was merely in grade 2 when war broke out. In short, I completed six grades of elementary in only four years of schooling. In class, I was two years younger than most of my classmates. I was thankful for the result of my father’s patience in home schooling us while living in the jungle. At last we were able to go back to our school, new home, and live the life of what was left of my childhood years in peace.
References and Interesting Reads: 1. Behind Japanese Lines: An American Guerrilla in the Philippines by Ray Hurst and Bernard Hurling 2. Return to the Philippines ( World War II) by Rafael Sternberg
War is a terrible thing to happen. Few among us have heard the stories of civilians in the war zones. I saw and lived the anxieties and horrors of the Japanese-American war through the eyes of a child. This article (Part 1) received the ViewsHound Gold Prize of $50 in 2011. ViewsHound is now a defunct writing site formerly based in UK.
Life in the time of war is a difficult experience for a child. All school and play activities are interrupted. Survival amidst the chaos becomes a paramount goal in life. Our family had to uproot ourselves from the comfort of home and move several times to the hard life in the countryside. We had to avoid the conflict and the bombing in the city.
We chose a life of peace and quiet away from the invading Japanese troops. Due to the language barrier, the Japanese instilled order and dominance of the conquered using fear, by hurting or killing innocent civilians, resulting in the rise of the resistance movement. For every day that passes, there was the dream of peace, but during the lengthy war period, one had to expect the worst before anything good happened.
Before the war started, we lived a comfortable life in our home in the city of Jaro, Iloilo located in the central Philippine island of Panay. My father had a dental practice and we had our farm landholdings around the province. It was 13 days before my 7th birthday when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in Hawaii in the morning of December 7, 1941.
On that evening, Japanese planes had taken off to attack several targets in the Philippines, which was then an American colony. It was the start of the Japanese invasion of the Philippines, and the reign of fear was about to begin.
I was in 2nd grade at the Jaro Elementary School when Japan started bombing the bigger cities of the country. When we heard the terrifying news, my parents became concerned for our safety and decided to get out of the city, a possible bombing target.
They chose to move to our farm in the small town of Barotac Viejo, Iloilo, my mother’s ancestral town 60 kilometers north of Jaro. It was a time of panic, chaos and fear over what was to happen in the city. We were about to leave our cherished home and anxiously head to the unfamiliar and unknown.
Within a couple of days all the essential items we could bring were already packed. All the furniture and the huge and heavy items were left behind. My mother had all her china and silverware buried in the backyard for safekeeping.
We found out later that our house was bombed and totally destroyed. All the furniture were either destroyed or stolen. All the china and silverware was dug up and stolen. Despite the losses, we were grateful that we made a wise decision and survived unharmed.
For a short period we settled in a small farm house of our tenant in a remote district of town. As the war progressed, we were informed that the Japanese forces had penetrated most of the big cities in the country and were starting to occupy smaller towns. My father was a captain and dental officer of the newly organized Philippine guerrillas, an underground resistance movement to fight the Japanese. As a precaution, he decided to move our family a second time, to the jungle in the interior of Panay Island.
We had to walk for three days through the woods of the jungle, cross over numerous creeks and climb over mountains with the help and guidance of our farmer tenants. Our trek ended and we settled in a hidden valley lined by a creek with clean running water. Our tenants built us a hut for shelter made of bamboo and nipa palm, an outdoor kitchen and a dining area.
They used a bamboo cart pulled by a water Buffalo to bring us supplies of rice, salt, sugar and other spices regularly. In the valley we cleared the land to plant vegetables, corn and sweet potatoes. We also raised chickens and ducks for eggs, pigs for protein and goats for milk.
One of the scariest events while living in the jungle was when our pig livestock were preyed upon by a python snake measuring about 30 feet long. It was pitch black at night when we heard our two pigs squealing out loud in fear. My father instructed our helper to inspect the pig pen using a kerosene lamp. He saw the snake strangling one of the pigs. He struck and killed the python using his machete and a piece of wood, sadly, our small pig also died. That whole week we had protein in our meals. It was proof that the jungles of Panay are inhabited by dangerous pythons.
We had no pet with us. I chose the chickens and the goats to become my pets. I raised one of the chickens; it slept with me, got attached to me and kept trailing me wherever I go. My mother tolerated my unusual pets because I had no peers my age aside from my younger brother.
To continue with our education, my father home schooled us together with two of my older cousins. For four hours each day we were taught arithmetic, spelling and history. We were lucky to have brought with us a few books on Philippine and US history. Whenever our tenants brought us food supplies, they would update us on news about the status of the Japanese occupation.
Late in the war when the Japanese brutality and atrocities appeared to have stopped, we moved again from the jungle to a seaside village. We stayed at the house of another tenant. My father warned us not to talk to any stranger, and if asked, to avoid giving our real last name of Katague and instead provide an alias which was Katigbak. There were unverified rumors that the Japanese had a list of names of all the guerrillas, which might have included my father. Some traitor Filipinos worked as spies for the Japanese by pinpointing the guerrillas in exchange for favors.
One day, we saw a platoon of uniformed Japanese soldiers armed with guns and bayonets passing by our village. My brother and I watched them march while hiding in the bushes. I knew their brutal reputation towards the natives, and I was afraid of us being seen and getting in trouble. I was relieved that nothing happened and they continued with their march to the next village.
A terrible incident happened to about 30 of my maternal relatives while we were living in the jungle. They were similarly hiding and living in the jungle on a mountain ridge next to us. They were killed by the Japanese soldiers who discovered and penetrated their location with the help of the spies. A handicapped relative in a wheelchair was spared. During the massacre, she fell on the creek and must have been left for dead. She lived to tell the tragic story. This is only one example of many atrocities that was committed by the Japanese to the Filipino civilians.
When General MacArthur landed in Leyte on October 1944, it was the happiest day for the Filipinos, the Americans were back to save us from the Japanese tyranny. The Japanese troops started to retreat and surrender. The chance for peace in the Philippines was welcomed with excitement. The schools were planning to reopen. There was no more need to live in hiding and in fear, and to lie about one’s name. We were able to live free from the oppressors.
From the seaside village we moved to another district much closer to town where we built a bigger house. At the back of the property was a hill, and on a clear day, from the top of the hill you could see the nearby island of Negros. We used it as an observation hill where we could watch the Japanese and American planes flying and then fighting each other. My brother and I witnessed two planes attacking each other, with one plane being blown to pieces and burning as it fell from the sky to the sea between Panay and Negros islands. It was a thrilling dogfight show to watch, although we never found out the victor.
When school reopened, we were required to take a test to determine which grade level we would qualify for. I passed the test for a 4th grade level. I was merely in grade 2 when war broke out. In short, I completed six grades of elementary in only four years of schooling. In class, I was two years younger than most of my classmates. I was thankful for the result of my father’s patience in home schooling us while living in the jungle. At last we were able to go back to our school, new home, and live the life of what was left of my childhood years in peace.
References and Interesting Reads: 1. Behind Japanese Lines: An American Guerrilla in the Philippines by Ray Hurst and Bernard Hurling 2. Return to the Philippines ( World War II) by Rafael Sternberg
My wife's Childhood Experiences During the Japanese-American War in Marinduque-Part 2
Model T-Ford 1930 stolen by the Japanese Invaders from its owner in Boac.
My first article on this subject is my own personal war time experience. This new story, Part 2, is about the personal experience of my wife, Macrine, during the Second World War in the Philippines. In comparison to my adventure-filled wartime story, her experience was confined within the city, although both reflected anxiety, pain and tragedies.
Macrine and her family resided in the town of Boac, Marinduque, the capital of the small and lovely island province in the middle of the Philippines. She was a typical islander who had most of her relatives including her grandparents living nearby or in the next town. Some individuals such as her aunt Blanca moved to Manila for work.
Unlike the larger cities of Manila, including my hometown of Iloilo, Boac was spared from any aerial bombing by the Japanese invaders. Life during the war period in the sleepy small town seemed normal, except for the presence of the Japanese troops stationed in town.
She was only 6 years old when the Japanese military invaded the Philippines. She was studying in first grade at the Boac Elementary School. Her family did not leave their home. They stayed in town and had interaction with the Japanese forces who occupied Boac for almost 14 months, from the middle of 1942 to early 1944.
Macrine was the oldest daughter of Bernardo Jambalos, Jr., a certified public accountant and Elena Decena Nieva, a science teacher. Her younger sister was then 4 years old. Her paternal grandfather, Bernardo Sr. was a successful businessman who owned and operated several fishing boats. They resided in the coastal village of Laylay about 10 km south of downtown Boac. He had nine children, five boys and four girls.
Her father was the oldest of the five boys. During the war, he continued his practice as a CPA to support his young family. He did not join the guerrilla or resistance movement organized by the locals. However, his four younger brothers were active members in the movement against the Japanese.
The guerrillas had their hideout in the interior of the island. To avoid detection by the enemy, they made covert visits to the town regularly to obtain their food and supplies, and to gather news update about the war. There were some minor encounters between the Japanese and the guerrilla forces, but not as destructive and violent as the war incidents in my childhood island of Panay.
Macrine's maternal grandparents also resided in the town of Boac and were actively involved in the local politics. Her maternal grandfather Juan Morente Nieva was the first governor of Marinduque. During the Japanese occupation period, her uncle was the mayor of Boac. The local officials cooperated with the occupying forces in Boac to keep the peace and order.
The presence of the invaders on the island was unnerving to the local Filipinos. The Japanese were unpredictable and when they felt the need, they would unjustly punish or torture innocent civilians. They established their headquarters in the local elementary school while school was in session.
The Japanese occupation in Marinduque did not meet a lot of resistance from the poorly armed local Filipino guerrillas. The Japanese tried to maintain normality by allowing the schools and businesses to remain open. Macrine and her schoolmates were allowed to attend school. They learned a few Japanese words and strangely, a Japanese military song.
Macrine's aunt Blanca Decena Nieva was the older sister of her mother. She was single and strikingly beautiful with her mestiza looks inherited from their Spanish ancestors. She had been a hospital nurse for two years before the war. She joined the Philippine army as a nurse and was based in Manila shortly after war was declared.
After the Japanese military attacked Pearl Harbor on December 8, 1941, they invaded the American controlled Philippine islands. There was an initial aerial bombardment by the Japanese to cripple the Filipino and American forces around Manila and the major cities of the country. Soon it was followed by the landing of Japanese ground troops. There was combat in the streets between the invaders against the Filipino and American troops.
The residents of Manila panicked amidst the bombings and the fire fights in the city. Many civilians were caught in the crossfire. On the first few days of the Japanese occupation of Manila, Macrine's aunt Blanca became a victim of the Japanese forces. She was shot and died from a Japanese machine gun fire at the doorstep of her apartment.
Blanca and her maid fled from their apartment building. They heard about the arrival of the invading soldiers and the ensuing conflict. They realized they had to evacuate to a safer place. She could have survived had she not returned to her apartment to retrieve her jewelry. Her maid survived unharmed to tell the tragic story to the Nieva family.
When my future mother-in-law learned of the violent death of her sister, she was distraught, angered and devastated with the loss of a loved one. She vowed that she would never forgive the Japanese for the tragedy that befell her sister. She wanted to avenge the loss, but first the family had to grieve for the passing of Blanca.
At the latter part of the war, Filipino and American forces started arriving on the island to support the guerrillas. The Japanese forces were retreating, surrendering and on the brink of defeat in Marinduque. Two Japanese soldiers who chose not to surrender were cornered hiding in the attic of the school, where the local Japanese garrison and prison camp was located.
They were shot dead by the Filipino guerrilla forces. Their bloody bodies were paraded in the town square for everyone to see. My future mother-in-law had her revenge realized. She was one of the many civilians who kicked and spat at the remains of the two soldiers.
Her hatred for the Japanese continued through the rest of her life. She stuck with her vow and never forgave them for killing her only sister. When my mother-in-law was still alive, during social events she avoided mingling at the same table where a Japanese person was seated.
A second incident which affected Macrine, and which she vividly remembers to this day, involved the harassment and torture of her grandfather Bernardo. One summer day, a squad of armed Japanese soldiers went to his home looking for him. They suspected him of helping the resistance movement and took him away to be punished for the alleged charge of insurgency.
They tied his hands by his back and took him to the sea where they let him stand in the water up to his waist. Later in the afternoon, the tide had risen and the water level was up to his neck. He was left standing in the water under the sun for almost the whole day without food or drinking water.
There were four other civilians being punished at the same time. They were similarly suspected of rebellion by aiding the guerrillas. They were all cruelly punished with their hands tied on their backs, exposed to the hot summer sun, while standing in the sea water waiting for the high tide to possibly drown them.
Macrine's grandfather was eventually saved from dehydration and possible death from drowning. The local officials arrived and intervened on his behalf. They conferred and convinced the Japanese troops that he was not involved with the resistance movement, but a respected entrepreneur in the community. The other four civilian men were not released from their agony until they almost drowned. The high tide was already above their heads.
The Japanese troops were not aware that four of his sons were in the resistance movement. There was a an occasion when he was entertaining his unsuspecting Japanese visitors in his living room, while at the same time a group of guerrilla fighters including his four sons and their comrades were in his kitchen. They were securing food, rice and other supplies to bring to their mountain hideaway.
Macrine's experience of the Japanese-American war was not as traumatic as mine. Her family never fled from their home and stayed in town, versus my experience of moving several times including staying in the jungles of Panay to avoid the conflict. The Japanese occupation of Boac, Marinduque was more peaceful and uneventful compared to the bombings and firefights in Manila and my own hometown of Iloilo.
The death of her aunt by machine gun fire and the punishment of her grandfather were the two incidents that she intensely remembers from the war. However, today, she informed me that the horrors of that war are almost gone and just a haze in her memory. Time eventually heals the trauma of war slowly, if not completely.
My first article on this subject is my own personal war time experience. This new story, Part 2, is about the personal experience of my wife, Macrine, during the Second World War in the Philippines. In comparison to my adventure-filled wartime story, her experience was confined within the city, although both reflected anxiety, pain and tragedies.
Macrine and her family resided in the town of Boac, Marinduque, the capital of the small and lovely island province in the middle of the Philippines. She was a typical islander who had most of her relatives including her grandparents living nearby or in the next town. Some individuals such as her aunt Blanca moved to Manila for work.
Unlike the larger cities of Manila, including my hometown of Iloilo, Boac was spared from any aerial bombing by the Japanese invaders. Life during the war period in the sleepy small town seemed normal, except for the presence of the Japanese troops stationed in town.
She was only 6 years old when the Japanese military invaded the Philippines. She was studying in first grade at the Boac Elementary School. Her family did not leave their home. They stayed in town and had interaction with the Japanese forces who occupied Boac for almost 14 months, from the middle of 1942 to early 1944.
Macrine was the oldest daughter of Bernardo Jambalos, Jr., a certified public accountant and Elena Decena Nieva, a science teacher. Her younger sister was then 4 years old. Her paternal grandfather, Bernardo Sr. was a successful businessman who owned and operated several fishing boats. They resided in the coastal village of Laylay about 10 km south of downtown Boac. He had nine children, five boys and four girls.
Her father was the oldest of the five boys. During the war, he continued his practice as a CPA to support his young family. He did not join the guerrilla or resistance movement organized by the locals. However, his four younger brothers were active members in the movement against the Japanese.
The guerrillas had their hideout in the interior of the island. To avoid detection by the enemy, they made covert visits to the town regularly to obtain their food and supplies, and to gather news update about the war. There were some minor encounters between the Japanese and the guerrilla forces, but not as destructive and violent as the war incidents in my childhood island of Panay.
Macrine's maternal grandparents also resided in the town of Boac and were actively involved in the local politics. Her maternal grandfather Juan Morente Nieva was the first governor of Marinduque. During the Japanese occupation period, her uncle was the mayor of Boac. The local officials cooperated with the occupying forces in Boac to keep the peace and order.
The presence of the invaders on the island was unnerving to the local Filipinos. The Japanese were unpredictable and when they felt the need, they would unjustly punish or torture innocent civilians. They established their headquarters in the local elementary school while school was in session.
The Japanese occupation in Marinduque did not meet a lot of resistance from the poorly armed local Filipino guerrillas. The Japanese tried to maintain normality by allowing the schools and businesses to remain open. Macrine and her schoolmates were allowed to attend school. They learned a few Japanese words and strangely, a Japanese military song.
Macrine's aunt Blanca Decena Nieva was the older sister of her mother. She was single and strikingly beautiful with her mestiza looks inherited from their Spanish ancestors. She had been a hospital nurse for two years before the war. She joined the Philippine army as a nurse and was based in Manila shortly after war was declared.
After the Japanese military attacked Pearl Harbor on December 8, 1941, they invaded the American controlled Philippine islands. There was an initial aerial bombardment by the Japanese to cripple the Filipino and American forces around Manila and the major cities of the country. Soon it was followed by the landing of Japanese ground troops. There was combat in the streets between the invaders against the Filipino and American troops.
The residents of Manila panicked amidst the bombings and the fire fights in the city. Many civilians were caught in the crossfire. On the first few days of the Japanese occupation of Manila, Macrine's aunt Blanca became a victim of the Japanese forces. She was shot and died from a Japanese machine gun fire at the doorstep of her apartment.
Blanca and her maid fled from their apartment building. They heard about the arrival of the invading soldiers and the ensuing conflict. They realized they had to evacuate to a safer place. She could have survived had she not returned to her apartment to retrieve her jewelry. Her maid survived unharmed to tell the tragic story to the Nieva family.
When my future mother-in-law learned of the violent death of her sister, she was distraught, angered and devastated with the loss of a loved one. She vowed that she would never forgive the Japanese for the tragedy that befell her sister. She wanted to avenge the loss, but first the family had to grieve for the passing of Blanca.
At the latter part of the war, Filipino and American forces started arriving on the island to support the guerrillas. The Japanese forces were retreating, surrendering and on the brink of defeat in Marinduque. Two Japanese soldiers who chose not to surrender were cornered hiding in the attic of the school, where the local Japanese garrison and prison camp was located.
They were shot dead by the Filipino guerrilla forces. Their bloody bodies were paraded in the town square for everyone to see. My future mother-in-law had her revenge realized. She was one of the many civilians who kicked and spat at the remains of the two soldiers.
Her hatred for the Japanese continued through the rest of her life. She stuck with her vow and never forgave them for killing her only sister. When my mother-in-law was still alive, during social events she avoided mingling at the same table where a Japanese person was seated.
A second incident which affected Macrine, and which she vividly remembers to this day, involved the harassment and torture of her grandfather Bernardo. One summer day, a squad of armed Japanese soldiers went to his home looking for him. They suspected him of helping the resistance movement and took him away to be punished for the alleged charge of insurgency.
They tied his hands by his back and took him to the sea where they let him stand in the water up to his waist. Later in the afternoon, the tide had risen and the water level was up to his neck. He was left standing in the water under the sun for almost the whole day without food or drinking water.
There were four other civilians being punished at the same time. They were similarly suspected of rebellion by aiding the guerrillas. They were all cruelly punished with their hands tied on their backs, exposed to the hot summer sun, while standing in the sea water waiting for the high tide to possibly drown them.
Macrine's grandfather was eventually saved from dehydration and possible death from drowning. The local officials arrived and intervened on his behalf. They conferred and convinced the Japanese troops that he was not involved with the resistance movement, but a respected entrepreneur in the community. The other four civilian men were not released from their agony until they almost drowned. The high tide was already above their heads.
The Japanese troops were not aware that four of his sons were in the resistance movement. There was a an occasion when he was entertaining his unsuspecting Japanese visitors in his living room, while at the same time a group of guerrilla fighters including his four sons and their comrades were in his kitchen. They were securing food, rice and other supplies to bring to their mountain hideaway.
Macrine's experience of the Japanese-American war was not as traumatic as mine. Her family never fled from their home and stayed in town, versus my experience of moving several times including staying in the jungles of Panay to avoid the conflict. The Japanese occupation of Boac, Marinduque was more peaceful and uneventful compared to the bombings and firefights in Manila and my own hometown of Iloilo.
The death of her aunt by machine gun fire and the punishment of her grandfather were the two incidents that she intensely remembers from the war. However, today, she informed me that the horrors of that war are almost gone and just a haze in her memory. Time eventually heals the trauma of war slowly, if not completely.
The American-Japanese War in the Philippines-Part 3
Rape Victims during the Japanese-American War in the Philippines, 1941-1945
The first article in this series is my childhood war time experiences in the island of Panay, and the second article is my wife's childhood recollection of the war in the provincial town of Boac, Marinduque, Philippines. This third article is my cousin's story and memories of the war. She was 17 years old at that time. Her story was not directly communicated to me, but told to me by my mother.
In the summer of 1943, the Japanese had occupied the small town where my cousin resided with her adopted parents. My cousin, let us call her Linda (not her real name) was an abandoned child. Her mother was a native Filipina but her Dad was a Caucasian American. She was a beautiful teenager because of her mixed ancestry. Unlike the typical Filipina teenager, Linda was fair skinned in complexion, which she inherited from her father. She was abandoned by her Dad when she was only 4 years old. Her poor mother was not able to financially support her, so she was given for adoption to the older sister of her mother. Linda's aunt and uncle were farmers and lived in the barrio about 10 km from the main town of Barotac Viejo, Iloilo.
When the Japanese invaders occupied the town of Barotac Viejo, Linda's adopted family did not leave their farm. Once a week the family would walked to the market in town to buy their food supplies as well as sell some of their farm products (fresh vegetables, fruits, and hens' eggs).
One day, a platoon of Japanese soldiers saw Linda. They admired her beauty, snatched her from her parents and she disappeared for over an hour. Linda's parents were delirious with anxiety but were helpless and scared for Linda's life. About two hours later Linda joined her parents at the town market. She was in tears and told her parents that four Japanese soldiers had raped and assaulted her. She was told that if she were to tell anyone what happened, they would kill her and also her family.
This incident was kept secret by the family because of fear of retribution from the Japanese. But rumors in the area spread that the Japanese soldiers had started to rape young girls, and sometimes even older women. With these rumors circulating around, most of the young women in town would disguise themselves as older women in public so the Japanese soldiers would not be tempted to rape them. Other families forbade their daughters to leave the house and hid them in the barn or the outside buildings when they heard that the Japanese soldiers were coming to their village.
Meanwhile, in a related event in the next town, a few of the Japanese soldiers had cohabited with the local women. My mother had a distant relative who was a rich widow in this town. Words had circulated that this widow had been seen entertaining a Japanese officer in her home. The widow had five children, four girls and one boy. In this town there were numerous natives who were friendly and cooperated with the Japanese. They were called collaborators. Some acted as spies or as double agents (giving information to both the Japanese and the local guerrilla resistance forces hiding in the mountains).
The next year (1944), my mother's distant relative gave birth to another girl. The baby looked more Japanese than Filipino. She did not hide this fact and she gave her youngest daughter the same love and attention as her older siblings. The Japanese officer was very kind to the family, giving them gifts and extra food.
By the end of the war, her child was almost a year old when the Japanese were defeated and surrendered to the Filipino-American forces that liberated the island. Today, this girl is now a grandmother and still feels very insecure regarding her looks. She looks very Japanese and has no physical resemblance to her other four sisters.
By pure coincidence, I met this lady a couple of years ago during a Filipino-American party in Southern California. She married a Japanese-American citizen who was in the Japanese-American interment camp during the war when he was a boy. They have three children and two beautiful grandchildren residing in the Los Angeles area.
Meanwhile, Linda grew up to be a very beautiful woman. She got married to a local man and raised six children. Five years ago she died, at the young age of 71. I never spoke to Linda personally, but I saw her one day visiting my mother. Her physical appearance and demeanor did not show that she was at one time a rape victim of the Japanese invaders.
The first article in this series is my childhood war time experiences in the island of Panay, and the second article is my wife's childhood recollection of the war in the provincial town of Boac, Marinduque, Philippines. This third article is my cousin's story and memories of the war. She was 17 years old at that time. Her story was not directly communicated to me, but told to me by my mother.
In the summer of 1943, the Japanese had occupied the small town where my cousin resided with her adopted parents. My cousin, let us call her Linda (not her real name) was an abandoned child. Her mother was a native Filipina but her Dad was a Caucasian American. She was a beautiful teenager because of her mixed ancestry. Unlike the typical Filipina teenager, Linda was fair skinned in complexion, which she inherited from her father. She was abandoned by her Dad when she was only 4 years old. Her poor mother was not able to financially support her, so she was given for adoption to the older sister of her mother. Linda's aunt and uncle were farmers and lived in the barrio about 10 km from the main town of Barotac Viejo, Iloilo.
When the Japanese invaders occupied the town of Barotac Viejo, Linda's adopted family did not leave their farm. Once a week the family would walked to the market in town to buy their food supplies as well as sell some of their farm products (fresh vegetables, fruits, and hens' eggs).
One day, a platoon of Japanese soldiers saw Linda. They admired her beauty, snatched her from her parents and she disappeared for over an hour. Linda's parents were delirious with anxiety but were helpless and scared for Linda's life. About two hours later Linda joined her parents at the town market. She was in tears and told her parents that four Japanese soldiers had raped and assaulted her. She was told that if she were to tell anyone what happened, they would kill her and also her family.
This incident was kept secret by the family because of fear of retribution from the Japanese. But rumors in the area spread that the Japanese soldiers had started to rape young girls, and sometimes even older women. With these rumors circulating around, most of the young women in town would disguise themselves as older women in public so the Japanese soldiers would not be tempted to rape them. Other families forbade their daughters to leave the house and hid them in the barn or the outside buildings when they heard that the Japanese soldiers were coming to their village.
Meanwhile, in a related event in the next town, a few of the Japanese soldiers had cohabited with the local women. My mother had a distant relative who was a rich widow in this town. Words had circulated that this widow had been seen entertaining a Japanese officer in her home. The widow had five children, four girls and one boy. In this town there were numerous natives who were friendly and cooperated with the Japanese. They were called collaborators. Some acted as spies or as double agents (giving information to both the Japanese and the local guerrilla resistance forces hiding in the mountains).
The next year (1944), my mother's distant relative gave birth to another girl. The baby looked more Japanese than Filipino. She did not hide this fact and she gave her youngest daughter the same love and attention as her older siblings. The Japanese officer was very kind to the family, giving them gifts and extra food.
By the end of the war, her child was almost a year old when the Japanese were defeated and surrendered to the Filipino-American forces that liberated the island. Today, this girl is now a grandmother and still feels very insecure regarding her looks. She looks very Japanese and has no physical resemblance to her other four sisters.
By pure coincidence, I met this lady a couple of years ago during a Filipino-American party in Southern California. She married a Japanese-American citizen who was in the Japanese-American interment camp during the war when he was a boy. They have three children and two beautiful grandchildren residing in the Los Angeles area.
Meanwhile, Linda grew up to be a very beautiful woman. She got married to a local man and raised six children. Five years ago she died, at the young age of 71. I never spoke to Linda personally, but I saw her one day visiting my mother. Her physical appearance and demeanor did not show that she was at one time a rape victim of the Japanese invaders.
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