The Rising Sun: The Decline and Fall of the Japanese Empire, 1936-1945 (Modern Library War)

by Toland, John

  On the evening of May 4 Homma stood above the little harbor of Lamao and anxiously watched landing craft carrying two thousand men and several tanks disappear in the dusk toward Corregidor. The odds were chilling; the assault troops faced at least seven times their number on the fortress island. They were to land in two waves on the north beach of Corregidor’s polliwog tail and push west toward Malinta Hill, where they would wait for reinforcements the following night. But in the darkness the erratic tides and currents pushed the small invasion fleet a mile off its course, and as the first boats approached shore they met devastating fire from two 75-mm. guns, saved for just such an emergency. Boat after boat was blown out of the water. The barrage became so intense that many of the invaders leaped from their boats too soon and were dragged under water by almost a hundred pounds of equipment. Less than one third of the entire assault force survived. They were led by their commander, Colonel Gempachi Sato, toward the east mouth of Malinta Tunnel.

  At midnight a Marine messenger raced into the tunnel. Six hundred Japs had landed! For three hours Wainwright remained in suspense. Then came news that a Marine AA gun pit, one mile from the tunnel, had been seized. The next message, moments later, was a radiogram from Roosevelt. He praised the defenders as “living symbols of our war aims and the guarantee of victory.”

  Just before dawn, five hundred untrained sailors—the last reserves—left the mouth of the tunnel and crawled up toward the fighting. Together with the Marines of Headquarters and Service Company, they launched an attack that completely surprised the Japanese, who were waiting for plane and tank support, and forced them to fall back on both flanks. But at ten o’clock the Americans could hear the ominous rumble of tanks.

  Once Wainwright learned that armor was moving against men with no antitank defenses, a nightmare flashed through his mind—a tank nosing into the tunnel and spraying lead at the wounded and nurses.

  “We can’t hold out much longer,” he told his staff. At ten-fifteen he ordered Brigadier General Lewis C. Beebe to broadcast a previously prepared surrender message. In a choked voice Wainwright said, “Tell the Nips that we’ll cease firing at noon.”

  To limit his own surrender to the four little islands in Manila Bay, he radioed Major General William F. Sharp, commander of all troops in the southern islands, releasing to him the rest of the Philippines.

  Guns were spiked, codes burned and radio equipment smashed. Wainwright wrote out his last message to Roosevelt.

  WITH BROKEN HEART AND HEAD BOWED IN SADNESS BUT NOT IN SHAME I REPORT TO YOUR EXCELLENCY THAT TODAY I MUST ARRANGE TERMS FOR THE SURRENDER OF THE FORTIFIED ISLANDS OF MANILA BAY.… THERE IS A LIMIT OF HUMAN ENDURANCE AND THAT LIMIT HAS LONG SINCE BEEN PASSED. WITHOUT PROSPECT OF RELIEF I FEEL IT IS MY DUTY TO MY COUNTRY AND TO MY GALLANT TROOPS TO END THIS USELESS EFFUSION OF BLOOD AND HUMAN SACRIFICE.

  IF YOU AGREE, MR. PRESIDENT, PLEASE SAY TO THE NATION THAT MY TROOPS AND I HAVE ACCOMPLISHED ALL THAT IS HUMANLY POSSIBLE AND THAT WE HAVE UPHELD THE BEST TRADITIONS OF THE UNITED STATES AND ITS ARMY.

  MAY GOD BLESS AND PRESERVE YOU AND GUIDE YOU AND THE NATION IN THE EFFORT TO ULTIMATE VICTORY.

  WITH PROFOUND REGRET AND WITH CONTINUED PRIDE IN MY GALLANT TROOPS I GO TO MEET THE JAPANESE COMMANDER. GOODBYE, MR. PRESIDENT.

  All American guns ceased firing. Wainwright waited for two hours, then drove east in a Chevrolet with five others to Denver Hill. They continued on foot past the dead and dying and were met near the top of the hill by a Japanese group. An arrogant lieutenant said surrender must include all American and Filipino troops in the archipelago.

  “I do not choose to discuss surrender terms with you,” said Wainwright. “Take me to your senior officer.”

  Colonel Motoo Nakayama, who had accepted King’s surrender, stepped forward. Wainwright told him he would surrender the four islands in Manila Bay. Nakayama replied angrily that he had explicit orders from Homma to bring Wainwright to Bataan for the capitulation ceremony only if he agreed to relinquish all his troops.

  As yet General Homma had no idea that Corregidor wanted to give up. A report had come in that thirty-one boats had been sunk the night before, and the reinforcement wave would have to be canceled, since there were just twenty-one landing craft left. He knew he faced disgrace. Suddenly a staff officer burst in with the news that a white flag was fluttering over Corregidor. Homma was so relieved that he radioed Nakayama to disregard former orders and bring Wainwright to Bataan at once.

  At four o’clock in the afternoon Wainwright, leaning heavily on his cane, thin body bent, once more stepped on Bataan soil at Cabcaben. Two cars brought the party to a small house, painted blue, surrounded by a luxuriant growth of mangrove. The Americans waited on the open porch; to the south out in Manila Bay they could see Corregidor still erupting with shell bursts—the battle had apparently not ended as far as the Japanese were concerned. The general and his companions were given cold water and lined up for pictures by Japanese newsmen.

  Finally, at five o’clock, a Cadillac drew up and the barrel-chested General Homma, looking crisp and vigorous in his olive-drab uniform, stepped out. He welcomed the Americans. “You must be very tired and weary.”

  Wainwright thanked him and they all sat on the porch around a long table. Wainwright handed over a signed note surrendering Corregidor and Forts Hughes, Drum and Frank, the four islands in Manila Bay. Homma had some command of English but wanted his staff to understand the proceedings and asked an interpreter to read it aloud. His face was stony; he said he could only accept the surrender of all troops in the Philippines.

  “The troops in the Visayan Islands and Mindanao are no longer under my command,” Wainwright explained. “They are commanded by General Sharp, who in turn is under General MacArthur’s high command.”

  Homma flushed. Did Wainwright take him for a fool? He ordered his interpreter to tell Wainwright the Japanese had intercepted messages from Washington confirming Wainwright’s position as commander in chief of all Philippine forces.

  But Wainwright insisted that he had no authority over Sharp. Losing all patience, Homma banged the table with both fists. He faced his new chief of staff. “What should we do, Wachi?” Major General Takaji Wachi said he was sure Wainwright was lying. “In that case, we cannot negotiate,” said Homma curtly. “Let us continue the battle.” He turned back to Wainwright and informed him in a controlled voice that he could only negotiate with his equal, the commander in chief of all forces in the Philippines. “Since you are not in supreme command, I see no further necessity for my presence here.” He started to rise.

  One of Wainwright’s companions called out in alarm, “Wait!” There was a quick conference among the Americans. Pale, Wainwright turned to Homma and forced himself to say, “In face of the fact that further bloodshed in the Philippines is unnecessary and futile, I will assume command of the entire American forces in the Philippines at the risk of serious reprimand by my government following the war.”

  But Homma was too offended to accept the abrupt turnabout. He doubted Wainwright’s sincerity. Stiffly he told the American commander to go back to Corregidor and think the matter over. “If you see fit to surrender, then do so to the commanding officer of the regiment on Corregidor. He in turn will bring you to me in Manila. I call this meeting over. Good day.” He nodded and walked to his Cadillac.

  The distraught Wainwright had chewed the cigarette in his mouth to shreds. “What do you want us to do now?” he asked Nakayama.

  “We will take you and your party back to Corregidor, and you can do what you damn please.”

  The entire emotional exchange had taken place through interpreters whose translations had been vague. No one knew exactly what had been said except a completely bilingual newsman named Kazumaro Uno who had been raised in Utah. He sympathized with the plight of the Americans and explained to Nakayama that Wainwright was quite ready to surrender all the Philippines.

  Somewhat mollified, Nakayama said he would accompany Wainwright to C
orregidor and added, “First thing tomorrow morning you will go to General Homma with a new surrender and a promise to contact the other American forces in the Philippines.”

  Wainwright saw many campfires all over Corregidor and guessed that the Japanese had already landed reinforcements. He was led around Malinta Hill and introduced to the island commander, Colonel Sato. The tunnel had been cleared except for those in the hospital. Now Sato was preparing to attack the main part of the island, Topside. Immediate unconditional surrender to Sato was the only way Wainwright could save his men from slaughter, and in the feeble light he signed a document accepting all of Homma’s original demands. He felt drained of energy.

  It was midnight. Wainwright was escorted to the west entrance of Malinta Tunnel, past solemn groups of Americans and Filipinos. Some of the men reached out to touch his hand or pat his shoulder. “It’s all right, General,” said one. “You did your best.”

  His eyes filled with tears.

  Wainwright’s humiliation was just beginning. The following morning he summoned his operations officer, Colonel Jesse T. Traywick, Jr. The Japanese would fly the colonel to Mindanao so he could personally deliver a letter to General Sharp explaining the situation.

  … You will therefore be guided accordingly, and will repeat will surrender all troops under your command both in the Visayan Islands and Mindanao to the proper Japanese officer. This decision on my part, you will realize, was forced upon me by means beyond my control.…

  Traywick was empowered to place Sharp under arrest if he failed to follow instructions implicitly. Wainwright broke down. “Jesse,” he said, “I’m depending on you to carry out these orders.”

  Wainwright and five of his officers were taken by assault boat to Bataan late that afternoon. At Lamao they were kept waiting for two hours but did receive their first food in two days, rice and bony fish. At dusk they started the tedious trip to Manila by car. Around eleven o’clock the party arrived at radio station KZRH and was met by Lieutenant Hisamichi Kano of the Propaganda Corps, who had been educated in New York and New Jersey. He greeted Wainwright affably and offered the Americans some fruit.

  Wainwright had difficulty reading the prepared speech, which was a combination of his letter to Sharp and Japanese interpolations, until Kano reworded it into more colloquial English. Shortly before midnight Wainwright, so gaunt that he looked almost like a skeleton, sat down at a small round bamboo table and began speaking into a microphone in a voice husky with suppressed emotion. He addressed Sharp directly, ordering him to surrender all forces. “You will repeat the complete text of this letter and such other instructions as Colonel Traywick will give you by radio to General MacArthur. However, let me emphasize that there must be on your part no thought of disregarding these instructions. Failure to fully and honestly carry them out can have only the most disastrous results.” He almost choked as he warned that the Japanese would continue operations unless the orders were carried out scrupulously and accurately. “If and when such faithfulness of execution is recognized, the commander in chief of the Japanese forces in the Philippine Islands will order that all firing be ceased.” He coughed and paused. “Taking all circumstances into consideration, and—”

  There was another longer pause. Wainright seemed unable to continue. The Filipino announcer, Marcela Victor Young, broke in and signed off. It was 12:20 A.M., May 8.

  Kano led the emotionally drained Wainwright and his companions to his office. He poured them drinks from a bottle of Scotch while the Americans tried to comfort their stricken commander.

  The speech was heard by Americans and Filipinos all through the islands. Was it really Wainwright talking? If so, did he have a pistol at his head? General Sharp didn’t know what to do. That morning he’d received a message from Wainwright relinquishing his command and now he was taking it back. He requested instructions from MacArthur. MacArthur in turn radioed Washington that he placed “no credence in the alleged broadcast by Wainwright.” His reply to Sharp went out at 4:45 A.M.:

  ORDERS EMANATING FROM GENERAL WAINWRIGHT HAVE NO VALIDITY. IF POSSIBLE SEPARATE YOUR FORCE INTO SMALL ELEMENTS AND INITIATE GUERRILLA OPERATIONS. YOU, OF COURSE, HAVE FULL AUTHORITY TO MAKE ANY DECISION THAT IMMEDIATE EMERGENCY MAY DEMAND. KEEP IN COMMUNICATION WITH ME AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. YOU ARE A GALLANT AND RESOURCEFUL COMMANDER AND I AM PROUD OF WHAT YOU HAVE DONE.†

  This message neither reassured Sharp nor clarified the situation. But it did leave the decision up to him, and he decided to wait for Wainwright’s emissary. Two days later, upon Traywick’s arrival after a harrowing trip, Sharp read Wainwright’s letter and concluded there was no alternative. He immediately ordered the commanders of the various islands to “cease all operations against the Japanese Army at once” to save further bloodshed, then radioed MacArthur: … DIRE NECESSITY ALONE HAS PROMPTED THIS ACTION.

  In Washington, General Marshall was reading a message from MacArthur:

  I HAVE JUST RECEIVED WORD FROM MAJOR GENERAL SHARP THAT GENERAL WAINWRIGHT IN TWO BROADCASTS ON THE NIGHT OF THE 7/8 ANNOUNCED HE WAS REASSUMING COMMAND OF ALL FORCES IN THE PHILIPPINES AND DIRECTED THEIR SURRENDER GIVING IN DETAIL THE METHOD OF ACCOMPLISHMENT. I BELIEVE WAINWRIGHT HAS TEMPORARILY BECOME UNBALANCED AND HIS CONDITION RENDERS HIM SUSCEPTIBLE OF ENEMY USE.

  But it was too late to prevent the surrender of all the Philippines.

  Their conqueror was in no triumphant mood. He was in disfavor with the Army General Staff; it had taken him too long to achieve victory. Moreover, General Count Hisaichi Terauchi, commander of Southern Army, was displeased with Homma’s lenient treatment of Filipino civilians. Homma had forbidden pillage and rape and ordered his troops not to regard the Filipinos as enemies but to respect their customs, traditions and religion. His defense was that he had been scrupulously following the Emperor’s instructions to bring enlightenment to Southeast Asia.

  But what exercised Terauchi most was Homma’s suppression of a propaganda pamphlet describing the exploitation of the Islands by the Americans. Homma told Terauchi to his face that the Americans had never exploited the Philippines and that it was wrong to make such false statements. “They administered a very benevolent supervision over the Philippines. Japan should establish an even better and more enlightened supervision.”

  Homma’s insistent tolerance left Terauchi more resolved than ever to send an adverse report to Tokyo from his headquarters in Saigon. It also provoked a small but influential group of his own subordinates, those under the influence of Colonel Tsuji, into secret retaliation. In Homma’s name, they sent out orders countermanding his liberal policy.

  Homma had no knowledge of this until two days after Wainwright’s surrender. Major General Kiyotake Kawaguchi, commander of Japanese forces in the Visayans, burst into Homma’s office, his ten-inch Kaiser mustache bristling. He accused Homma of having authorized the execution of Chief Justice José Abad Santos and wanted to know the reason why. Santos had been captured on Negros Island with his son and brought to Kawaguchi’s headquarters on Cebu in April, on the evening Bataan fell. Santos was willing to work with the Japanese, and Kawaguchi had radioed Manila a recommendation that he be given a position in the Laurel “Quisling” government. The answer was unexpected: HIS GUILT IS OBVIOUS. DISPOSE OF HIM IMMEDIATELY.

  This was an outrageous betrayal of bushido and the Emperor, and Kawaguchi had thrown a staff officer from Manila named Inuzuka out of his office for insisting on the execution of Santos’ son as well. Then he wrote a letter to an old friend, Major General Yoshihide Hayashi, Military Administrator of 14th Army, reiterating why the two Santos should be spared. Two weeks later Kawaguchi received another dispatch from Manila. It ordered him to deliver the two Santos to the Davao garrison commander on Mindanao for immediate execution. The indignant Kawaguchi responded by crumpling up the message.

  But it was followed by the persistent Inuzuka, who had come to make sure that the executions take place. Kawaguchi summoned the two prisoners and told them he had done his utmost to s
ave their lives but was now forced to execute the elder Santos in the name of the 14th Army. “I promise to protect your son, so don’t worry,” he told the father.

  Santos said he had never been anti-Japanese. “I appreciate your kindness toward me and my son and wish glory for your country.” He stilled his son’s pleas for mercy; they could only embarrass the general. “When you see Mother, give her my love. I will soon die. Be a man of honor and work for the Philippines.” Santos was taken to a nearby coconut plantation. He declined to be blindfolded and crossed himself just before the shots of the firing squad rang out.

  Homma was dumfounded to learn of Santos’ execution from Kawaguchi. He, too, had had high regard for Chief Justice Santos and appreciated his friendship for Japan. He remembered approving Kawaguchi’s original request for clemency and had ordered Hayashi to take care of the matter. Mortified, he told Kawaguchi, “I regret very much what has happened.”

  The following day Kawaguchi confronted Hayashi. “What a keshi-karan [shameful] thing you did!” he burst out. “I trusted you as my classmate.”

  Hayashi was defensive; Homma had already admonished him. “But,” he excused himself, “Imperial Headquarters was so insistent about the execution of Santos.”

  “Whom do you mean by ‘Imperial Headquarters’?”

  “It was Tsuji.”

  Homma’s reprimand had little effect on those staff officers determined to carry out Tsuji’s policy of revenge. Several weeks later when General Manuel Roxas, former Speaker of the House of Representatives, was captured on Mindanao, a message came from Manila ordering the local commander, General Torao Ikuta, to execute Roxas “secretly and immediately.” It was authorized in the name of Homma and stamped by Hayashi and three staff officers.

  On Bataan, Ikuta had refused to shoot prisoners without a written order, but even though he had one this time, he found himself incapable to act, and turned over the responsibility to his chief of staff, Colonel Nobuhiko Jimbo, a balding man with glasses and a Tojo mustache. As a Catholic, Jimbo was tormented while he drove Roxas and another high-ranking captive, a governor, toward the execution grounds. Throughout the hour-long trip past hemp fields and coconut groves, the governor begged for his life. He was an administrator, not a soldier; he had always co-operated with the Japanese and should be treated differently from General Roxas. His voice became so hysterical that Roxas patted his shoulder and said, “Look at the sampaguita.” He pointed at clusters of delicate white blossoms, the national flower of the Philippines. “Aren’t they beautiful?”