The prisoners carved bats out of native wood, and a softball was produced by the Japanese. A diamond was laid out on the camp’s former inspection grounds, and two teams of players were drafted: one of army prisoners and the other navy. In the first game, the navy squad defeated the army team 3–1. The would-be blue-and-gold cheering section was as happy as the players.
Another game was scheduled, this time against a local team of Filipinos. Though the Americans lost 6–3, Barton hit his first-ever home run. A small Filipino band played “Onward Christian Soldiers” as he rounded third base and made it safely, incredibly, home, just seconds before the catcher tagged him. When Barton Cross crossed home plate he was as electrified as he was exhausted, hungry, and dirty. He laughed out loud and nearly burst into tears. The absurdity that this was actually one of the happiest moments of his life struck him full force.
The games lifted the spirits of all the players—even one they played against the Japanese guards themselves, which they elected wisely to lose. But playing ball burned precious additional calories not made up for at dinner afterward: a serving of rice and the occasional addition of a watery soup called lugao, with a few floating bits of yamlike camote. The games on top of their work details left the prisoner-players more famished than ever, and they realized with some sadness that the added energy playing ball required had to be factored into the cruel calorie math that determined survival. With a diet of fewer than 1,000 calories per day, they were all losing weight. Eventually, baseball at Cabanatuan was suspended for lack of participants.
10
A BROTHER’S BURDEN: THE SEARCH
THE DEMANDS OF BILL’S White House job grew exponentially during the first half of 1942, as did those at home, with Romie and toddler Adam increasingly wanting of his time, attention, and company. Bill did the best he could to balance the dueling claims for his primacy, not to mention those imposed by his mother, whose almost daily letters and telephone calls about Barton regularly refreshed his sense of urgency and feelings of guilt.
But replies to Bill’s persistent calls and letters about his missing brother arrived at their own unhurried pace. One came from an army nurse in Australia who had been evacuated from Sternberg Hospital just before Manila fell. Bill had recognized the old family friend’s name on the evacuee list. His letter expressed relief that she was safe, and then asked about Barton. Had she seen him after the Japanese attack on Cavite? Did she know his whereabouts?
She replied that in fact she had seen Barton: he was a patient at Sternberg! He had been wounded in the foot and leg, she confirmed, but was expected to recover. Bill was euphoric at this—then dismayed as she proceeded to explain that only army wounded and their nurses were evacuated to Australia before Manila fell. She didn’t know what had happened to either the navy patients or the naval medical staff.
By bits and pieces, Bill gradually assembled a fairly reliable composite of what had befallen Barton and where he was most likely being held. It was not intelligence he wanted to share over the phone or in a letter, so in early spring, he secured his first day of leave since war had been declared and booked a train for New Jersey. Helen’s and Arthur’s calls had grown more frequent and importunate, and he hoped this gesture would calm them. But his good intentions were preempted by an article in the Red Bank Register, their hometown paper.
ENSIGN A. B. CROSS THOUGHT PRISONER WOUNDED AT CAVITE WHICH JAPS HAVE NOW
Ensign A. Barton Cross Jr., son of Mr. and Mrs. A. Barton Cross, is believed to have been captured from a hospital near Cavite Naval Base after the fall of Manila. While there is strict censorship regarding such notices as far as the general public is concerned, it was revealed that during the attack and just before Cavite was abandoned, Ensign Cross was engaged on the dock in duties surrounding the submarine tender of which he was executive supply officer. As the fires raged on the wharves from enemy air action the 22 year [sic] old officer, a former classmate at Harvard of John Roosevelt, was supervising the embarkation of men and supplies when he was struck by a shell splinter.
Attempts are being made to trace Ensign Cross through the International Red Cross in Geneva Switzerland, but to date all efforts have been unavailing . . . General MacArthur and his Forces still hold Bataan and Corregidor, the island forts that guard the entrance to the harbor.
A telephone message from Arthur was on Bill’s desk when he arrived at the White House that morning. After two weeks, with several phone calls and promises of follow-up in between, a letter from Bill arrived at Lilac Hedges:
The White House
Washington
April 2, 1942
Dear Arthur,
I am sorry about the blow from the Register regarding Barton. They must have pieced together reports (never assuredly accurate, by the way) from the Red Cross. I was, in fact, planning a trip to see you about this when you [first] called. I regret how matters unfolded.
Yesterday a casualty list came through and on it were the names of five officers left behind in Manila after the evacuation to Bataan and Corregidor. Among them were three in the Medical Corps and one in the Supply Corps. All of them were known to Admiral McIntyre, the Surgeon General, who is often here at the White House seeing after the President. Barton was not listed. Also, Barton’s name was not on the long list of dead that came in today from the International Red Cross—further confirmation that he is indeed alive.
I had the occasion to show these lists to the president and Admiral King and we discussed the possibility of sending our own doctors over there to tend to the wounded from Cavite, as well as a great many other related subjects. I hope to speak with you about this before the end of the week.
Everyone seems confident that it will only be a matter of weeks now before we get confirmed information (unlike that in The Register) that he is alive and in the hands of the Japanese, if not more.
Love,
Bill
But Bill’s words brought scant comfort:
Lilac Hedges
Oceanport, New Jersey
April 5, 1942
Dear Bill,
Thank you for your apparent efforts, but we continue to feel terribly depressed by the press accounts we read daily. Not just about Barton, but the Philippines generally. Clearly it is becoming another Dunkirk. At worst the situation may be the complete isolation of the Philippines and the Japs bomb the hell out of them from every direction.
Why are green men sent to the firing line? What of the wounded? Is this just another instance of Naval stupidity? We pray hourly for Barton and Benny’s safety.
Love, Mother
Enclosed in the envelope was an additional note from Arthur:
Dear Bill,
What I cannot understand is that there is no organization big enough to advise the world whether Japanese prisoners are being treated as human beings.
Another puzzlement is that, up to the present, the Navy Prisoner of War Bureau has never issued a statement. On the other hand, the Army bureau is listing personnel weekly. I cannot help but think they are functioning more efficiently.
It does point out to the layman very forcibly that the Army’s Colonel Bresee is really on the job. I know of an instance where the Colonel wrote and told a mother how to address letters to her son, in care of the Japanese Red Cross, New York City.
We become incensed with the Navy when we hear these things.
Trusting that this finds both you and your family well,
With Kindest Regards,
Arthur
The White House
Washington
April 9, 1942
My Dear Arthur,
You do the Navy an injustice when you assume the Army Prisoner of War outfit is functioning more efficiently than the Navy one. I have been in regular touch with Colonel Bresee since I very first heard of the attack on Manila, and he has had a chit on file in his office for months, reminding him to call me with any news of Barton’s whereabouts.
You see, the reports on all branche
s come through the International Red Cross in Geneva and funnel through Colonel Bresee. The Prisoner of War Board is a joint board, having both Army and Navy officers as members. Captain Jackson, whom I know quite well, is a Navy member and he also has a chit to call me the minute any news of Barton comes in.
What you say about the Army listing personnel weekly is true, but it just so happens that the Japanese have chosen to tick off their Army prisoners to Geneva before they get around to the Navy ones. There is nothing the Navy can do about this because we don’t control the Japanese—yet. Once more, please be assured that I am leaving no stone unturned to get the latest intelligence on Barton from any and all sources.
With Best Regards,
Bill
P.S. Colonel Bresee was very happy to hear that you think so highly of him.
Letters and toll calls continued apace between the White House and Lilac Hedges, but Bill’s assurances failed to assuage Helen. She was soon to make matters even more difficult for her middle son. Angry and out of patience, she launched her own official inquiry into Barton’s status. Pleas from Helen Cross’s prolific pen began pouring into war-wracked Washington: to Red Cross officials, to Bill’s former boss at Naval Intelligence (already struggling to locate thousands of missing and captured), and to United States senators, including New Jersey Republican senator William Barbour:
Lilac Hedges
Oceanport, New Jersey
My Dear Senator Barbour,
It never occurred to me that I should ever ask your good offices in a personal way—however the enclosed clipping from the Red Bank Register will explain the grief which has descended on this family.
For three months we were not notified that our son Barton Cross was not with his ship—weekly letters have gone out as though to a ghost. Think also of our awful three months anxiety over him on a ship—a submarine tender loaded with explosives and unprotected—following its progress supposedly from Cavite to Darwin, to the Dutch East Indies—watching for sinkings, bombings. Now we read only “missing” opposite his name after being wounded at Cavite Dec. 10th—where or how he is now, I do not know.
Are our naval officers allowed to disappear like this?
Can you please find out for me if he is a prisoner of the Japanese as well as the following:
1. How does he live, since no paychecks have been sent out to him since his arrival in the Philippines?
2. Will they clothe and feed him properly?
3. Could or will he be exchanged as a prisoner of war, so he could go to Corregidor with MacArthur or to the safety of Australia?
Believe me, I am proud of my son, doing his duty on those blazing docks until struck down and removed to Sternberg Hospital. At 23 years of age, he met Hell unflinchingly. I have another son, an officer on that gallant airplane carrier which was at the Marshall Islands. So I know how to bear anxiety and grief.
I just want to know so that I may sleep again, if Barton is alive, if the Japs will feed him, if America cares about those prisoners at Cavite and Manila or is taking steps to find out about them.
Hopefully, and with appreciation of any reply you may send.
Sincerely,
Helen C. Cross
When his mother’s letter to Senator Barbour and others crossed his desk (first routed from Capitol Hill to the Navy Department, then to Bill for reply), Bill was more irritated than embarrassed—but plenty of both. He immediately placed a call to Lilac Hedges, demanding his mother explain her apparent end run around him. Did she really think this would generate better information than he had given her? Did she really think this was appropriate, making inquiry to a United States senator about one missing man with a war spanning the globe going on?
After listening patiently to his rant, Helen explained sweetly (“My dear boy,” she began) that she and Senator Barbour were old friends. Why would a little letter to an old friend upset him so?
Bill exhorted his mother to halt her letter-writing campaign, explaining what he would have thought obvious: that such unwanted attention could hurt him professionally, and would certainly not improve her store of information regarding Barton. Bill would have to reply to Senator Barbour, he said through clenched teeth, and with a workday that already spanned sixteen hours, such extracurricular tasks were not appreciated.
The White House
Washington
My Dear Senator Barbour:
The Navy’s Bureau of Navigation has forwarded me your letter of inquiry for reply. Ensign A. B. Cross is my half-brother, Mrs. Cross being our mother. You may be sure therefore that my interest in his case is more than an official one. I have gone to great lengths to gather any and all information on his case. The unfortunate facts are that Barton was wounded in the bombing attack on Cavite and we’ve had no further confirmation of his whereabouts. Our fear is that he is now a prisoner of war.
Mother seems to feel there was some dereliction on the part of the Navy in not having notified her that Barton was missing from his ship; however I believe you will understand that it was, and is, impossible for the Navy to keep in constant radio touch with the Asiatic Fleet, especially regarding individual cases. When on or about the 15th of February I finally received the roster of officers from the boy’s ship and found that he was missing, the Navy Department immediately took steps to try and find out what happened to him.
The Commandant of the 16th Naval District [the Philippines] conducted an investigation which confirmed that Barton had been wounded at Cavite and was treated in a hospital in Manila. The reasons he probably did not forward this information before he was quizzed by the Navy Department were,
1) That he may have assumed Barton went out on some other ship after the Otus departed, or,
2) He had a war to fight and had not the time yet to take up the case.
Our mother has asked you a great many questions as to how Barton is living, how the Japanese are treating him, possibilities of exchange etc . . . None of these questions have answers at present.
The Prisoner of War Division, working in conjunction with the International Red Cross, is doing everything it can to find out about conditions among our prisoners of war. The Japanese have forwarded them very little information, but all of which I have forwarded to our mother. You may rest assured that I shall make such information as I may be able to gather available to her.
As you know Mrs. Cross has another son in the Navy besides Barton and myself, and I have also written him about this matter since he is on duty in the Pacific and may be able to turn up additional information. I have also written to the Commanding Officer of Barton’s ship.
Respectfully Yours,
William C. Mott, Lieut. Cdr.
Weeks passed before Joel Newsom, captain of the USS Otus, replied to Bill’s inquiry. Finally, in mid-May, Captain Newsom sent his findings after consulting the ship’s log of December 10, 1941, to supplement his recall of events that difficult day:
Submarines
United States Asiatic Fleet
USS Otus (AS20)
My dear Lieutenant Mott:
I have purposely delayed replying to your letter of March 17 until the latest information from Manila was received. Now that Corregidor has fallen, further delay is useless. As you say, our departure from Manila on December 10 was somewhat hurried.
Newsom proceeded to explain that Admiral Hart had ordered Otus—one of the Asiatic Fleet’s few critical submarine tenders—to sortie immediately after damaging bombs glanced her starboard side during the Japanese air attack. In the confusion and haste, Newsom couldn’t account for why Barton had turned up missing.
Persons who left Manila after we did but before it fell, stated definitely that Barton was in a Manila hospital with shrapnel wounds. I cannot confirm whether he reported to the Submarine Tender Canopus, nor has anyone I can locate seen him since he was in the hospital. It is known, however, that the hospital was not bombed. There is a possibility that upon recovering and finding all naval vessels had evacuated Manil
a, he escaped to join the guerrillas in the mountain country, as some did. You are the best judge of that possibility. I sympathize with you in your uncertainty . . .
I regret I cannot give you more encouraging news of your brother. He was a grand shipmate and an excellent officer. There is no doubt in my mind he is a prisoner of war. From meager reports received, the Japanese are treating their officer prisoners of war better than we might expect from that nation, but reliable information is scarce, at best.
Next came the news that Canopus had been sunk during the siege of Bataan. After weeks of hoping that Barton had made his way to it, now the family spent the next several weeks praying that he hadn’t, even as they braced for the ship’s manifest and casualty report. When the lists finally arrived in June, Barton was not on either one.
Throughout the spring and summer of 1942, Bill reviewed every scrap of intelligence from the Philippines—which had narrowed to a trickle since the termination of all radio traffic at the fall of Corregidor. Even so, while Barton was still listed as missing, Bill felt sure that Captain Newsom’s intelligence was spot on: that Barton was wounded at Cavite, treated at Sternberg, and taken prisoner after Manila fell.
But where was he now? There was a measure of hope in one of Captain Newsom’s references, that perhaps Barton had “escaped to join the [Filipino] guerrillas in the mountain country, as some [Americans] did.”
This burgeoning guerrilla resistance movement had been confirmed by other sources, but Bill was frustrated by the few and erratic details available on these widely dispersed bands of unsurrendered American and Filipino military. All that was known so far was that guerrilla groups were organizing in isolated centers throughout the islands. They were made up of American officers who had fled to remote hill and jungle communities and banded with armed, resistance-minded Filipinos who knew the terrain. This much was known because some had set up clandestine shortwave radios and were attempting to relay to the world what was happening in the Philippines. These crude broadcasts were first thought to be Japanese feints but had since been authenticated; they were being picked up in Australia as well as at receiving stations as far away as San Francisco. Their repeated requests were for arms, food, and other supplies that would help them resist the Japanese.
The Jersey Brothers Page 13
