by Peter Eisner
• • •
It was not clear whether the Japanese military command intended to distinguish at all between civilian detainees and military prisoners of war. The Tokyo High Command had issued a secret kill order in August 1944 that detailed plans for dealing with prisoners.
At such time as the situation became urgent and it be extremely important, the POWs will be concentrated and confined in their present location and under heavy guard; the preparation for the final disposition will be made.
The time and method of the disposition are as follows:
(1) The Time. Although the basic aim is to act under superior orders, individual disposition may be made in the following circumstances: (a) when an uprising of large numbers cannot be suppressed without the use of firearms; (b) when escapees from the camp may turn into a hostile fighting force.
(2) The Methods. (a) Whether they are destroyed individually or in groups, or however it is done, with mass bombing, poisonous smoke, poisons, drowning, decapitation . . . dispose of them as the situation dictates; (b) in any case it is the aim not to allow the escape of a single one, to amilhilate [sic] them all, and not to leave any traces.
Officials at the Palawan POW camp were among the first to follow through on the secret order. About 150 POWs, some of them from Cabanatuan, were left at Palawan; others had been shipped to labor camps. The men who remained were at work seven days a week completing a 1,500-foot airfield. They drove trucks, crushed coral for a base layer, and then poured concrete for the tarmac. It was slave labor under starvation food allowances, with no medical treatment and particularly harsh, vengeful behavior by Japanese soldiers. The POWs at Palawan also saw the formations of U.S. planes flying overhead and celebrated in silence. However, when B-24 bombers attacked the base twice in October and destroyed Japanese planes, the American reaction, though muted, was duly noted by the guards. The Japanese responded by cutting rations and treating the prisoners with more brutality than ever.
The American laborers were at work on the tarmac as usual on the morning of Thursday, December 14, 1944. Guards called them back to camp at noon and ordered them to take shelter because U.S. planes were reported en route for another attack. The men sought shelter in the log-covered trenches they had been allowed to build for themselves. By 2:00 p.m. the POWs were crowded into the trenches, awaiting word on the attack. Suddenly guards dumped gallons of gasoline into the air-raid trenches, which had only small entry holes at both ends. The commander, Lieutenant Yoshikazu Sato, then issued the order to torch the gasoline-soaked logs and the prisoners inside. A fireball engulfed them. A few of the men managed to crawl out, but they were bayoneted and shot. Several fought the Japanese on the spot and a few of the 150 POWs were able to evade their tormentors and dive into the ocean to swim for safety. One of those survivors was Private First Class Eugene Nielsen of the 59th Coast Artillery, who swam for nine hours, though wounded.
One shot hit me in the armpit and grazed my ribs. Another hit me in the left thigh, then another one hit me right along the right side of my head, grazing my temple. I think it knocked me out temporarily. For a short period, I was numb in the water; and I nearly drowned. Then I found a large coconut husk, bobbing around in the bay and I used it to shield my head as I swam. . . .
I came down to a place along the shore where there were a lot of trees and bushes in the water. I knew they were following me, so I went toward shore and splashed to make a little noise. I wanted them to think I was finally coming in. Then I abruptly turned around and went out just as quiet as possible and started swimming across the bay. They never shot at me again. Probably it was too dark for them to see me. I swam most of the night.
Filipino guerrillas plucked Nielsen from the surf and brought him to army intelligence officers on the island of Morotai. MacArthur received an immediate report on the Palawan massacre: He and all other officials reacted with revulsion and anger; the reality of what they faced became starkly present. The Pacific Command had not seen the Japanese directive to annihilate all POWs, but they had no reason to believe that Palawan was an isolated case. General MacArthur resolved to make the rescue of prisoners a high priority.
By now, U.S. Army Air Forces reconnaissance planes were taking photographs of the buildings at Cabanatuan. Naomi, Peggy, and Claire’s contacts had smuggled out messages earlier in the war that could produce a good map of the prison compound—they could point to which buildings housed the POWs, the prison hospital, guard quarters, weapons, and equipment stores. The same was the case with the other camps and detention sites. Old Bilibid Prison was in the form of a wheel hub and spokes; they knew where the prisoners were. Chick Parsons himself could describe Bilibid, Fort Santiago, and Santo Tomas. The latest intelligence gave an approximate count of the thousands of Americans held in Manila and its environs. The report on Palawan from Nielsen gave MacArthur a sense of urgency. “With every step that our soldiers took toward Santo Tomás University, Bilibid, Cabanatuan and Los Baños, where these prisoners were held, the Japanese soldiers guarding them had become more and more sadistic. I knew that many of these half-starved and ill-treated people would die unless we rescued them promptly.”
In from the Hills
Bataan, January 1945
BOONE’S GUERRILLAS had been champing at the bit to take the fight directly to the Japanese instead of staging hit-and-run sabotage operations. His Filipino commanders even countermanded standing orders in October to celebrate MacArthur’s return with a direct attack on a Japanese garrison. Though Boone was on Japanese intelligence radar, he remained elusive. With the return of U.S. troops, Boone was ready to launch attacks on long-identified targets. After MacArthur landed on January 9 at Lingayen Gulf about eighty miles north of his camp, Boone sent a team of engineers on a mission to destroy a major Japanese ammunition dump. The men moved in on some huts along the road close to the ammunition stores and encouraged a local farmer to use gasoline to set them on fire. The poor man was overenthusiastic and used too much fuel. The resulting fire killed the farmer and set off a chain reaction that blew up tons of bombs and ammunition with a thundering roar that echoed miles away back at Boone’s mountain hideout. His troops staged a series of operations throughout January and into February to support arriving U.S. troops.
On February 5, 1945, almost exactly three years after he lost contact with the regular army, John Boone, now with a field commission as a guerrilla major, walked into a U.S. Army command post and reported for duty. He immediately provided intelligence information on Japanese installations at the so-called Zig Zag Pass, a highway crossing in dense jungle through the Zambales Mountains where Japanese forces were making a last stand in Bataan. American troops were pinned down at Zig Zag, unable to break through a warren of Japanese defenses in the thick undergrowth, woven with tunnels, trenches, and pillboxes where they could pick off the invaders at will.
Boone used his knowledge of the area to avert disaster and provided intelligence that brought an important victory at Zig Zag. On the first day of fighting, without his help, U.S. commanders had been lured into the Japanese trap and four hundred Americans had been killed, as Boone put it, the result of “very poor judgment on somebody’s part.” The U.S. general in charge was stripped of his command as a result; Boone met with the new commander, Brigadier General William C. Chase, and provided detailed information about Japanese installations at the pass. “Overnight the division took on a new spirit and morale and fought that campaign very well.” Still, the fighting lasted for two more weeks. American troops killed an estimated 2,400 of the estimated 2,800 Japanese soldiers there and took only about twenty-five prisoners; the remaining Japanese escaped into the jungle. From there Boone’s forces continued south to fight remaining Japanese stragglers in Bataan and then moved into Manila for mop-up operations.
Meanwhile Boone had an irritating command problem back in the hills. His commanders said they would have preferred dealing with five-year-old Dian rather tha
n with Peggy. She had also proved to be difficult under fire. Boone had assigned her to run a medical operation at the camp of Colonel Victor Abad, second regiment commander in Bataan. Peggy was horrified one day when Abad asked her to administer a lethal dose of strychnine to a Filipina woman who he said had been found guilty of spying for the Japanese. Peggy refused on the reasonable grounds that she was a healer, not a killer. Abad just shrugged; his troops forced the woman into a grave-sized hole and an aide shot and killed her and her child with a single bullet.
Peggy immediately demanded that she and Dian be allowed to leave. It was a dangerous trip, but Abad agreed to send her to Frank Loyd’s camp, accompanied by an Aeta guide. They made it to Loyd’s camp with a letter of introduction after a rough trek through the jungle. Frank Loyd complained that Peggy never stopped talking and complaining. Besides talking incessantly, she griped about the lack of equipment and adequate nursing facilities and tended to berate the rough-hewn guerrillas she was working with.
Boone sent Peggy an irony-tinged note. “I am very sorry to hear of the inconvenience and unnecessary hardship caused you recently during the Jap general raids. This trip to the camp of Colonel Loyd must have been hectic.” He assigned her to a civilian aid station away from his troops. “I can arrange for you to take charge of one of these Aid Stations in an area where the better class Filipino will evacuate and I am sure your supply line and other such problems would cease to exist.”
Boone had one final bit of news for Peggy. They all knew that Claire had been held for several months at Fort Santiago, along with Ramón, but no word had gotten out about what the Japanese planned to do. When the sentencing period was over, the possibility had existed that they all would be killed. Claire, at least, had survived. He added a note in capital letters: “I AM SURE YOU WILL BE ELATED TO HEAR THAT MRS. PHILLIPS IS REPORTED ALIVE IN WELFAREVILLE [the women’s prison at Mandaluyong]. This report came from Father Lalor but no details.” At the same time, it had become nearly impossible to obtain food and medicine shipments from Manila. Claire had not been the only supplier, but she had been the first contact point. Messengers had attempted to find a source of supplies but were “unable to procure either money or medicine.”
A Race Against Time
Lingayen Gulf, Luzon, January 1945
ON JANUARY 26, 1945, Major Robert Lapham, a guerrilla leader operating in the hills alongside John Boone, Frank Loyd, and Ed Ramsey, made an urgent trip to the new U.S. Sixth Army command field headquarters near Lingayen Gulf. General Krueger’s Sixth Army—which in October had landed at Leyte with the help and advance work of Chick Parsons—now had redeployed at Lingayen Gulf. Krueger’s forces were the northern portion of the vise that was squeezing Japanese resistance, with the Eighth Army, led by Lieutenant General Robert L. Eichelberger, moving up from the south.
Lapham, long supported by Parsons’s supply and intelligence operation, covered the region around Cabanatuan. He sought out Colonel Horton White, the Sixth Army’s chief intelligence officer, to provide emergency information. He warned that the remaining POWs at Cabanatuan were in grave danger and faced possible execution as American forces advanced. White reported this immediately to General Krueger and noted Lapham’s long service in central Luzon and his ability to monitor the POWs. Krueger agreed that they had to move quickly to rescue the prisoners. U.S. forces were expected to fight their way to the vicinity of the camp within days. Eugene Nielsen’s chilling story of escape from the mass murder at Palawan had produced more than anger and revulsion—the military knew the consequences of waiting.
They decided to organize a rapid rescue operation and designated Lieutenant Colonel Henry Mucci as the leader. Mucci was the commander of an elite special forces team, the Sixth Ranger Battalion, a highly trained unit that was aching to engage and employ its skills to the best possible use. Mucci and his subordinate officers Captain Robert W. Prince and First Lieutenant John F. Murphy were accompanied by the Sixth Army’s intelligence unit, a total of 121 U.S. Rangers. Joining them were several Alamo Scouts and Filipino guerrilla units. The final strike force of 370 men launched its mission on January 27, fearing all the while that any security leak or delay could lead to the killing of the remaining Cabanatuan prisoners. The team included a doctor and medical staff, combat photographers, and support personnel. The Alamo Scouts left first as an advance team and moved onward to the village of Platero, along the Pampanga River about three miles from the POW camp.
Mucci’s men—traveling without identification or insignias—faced not only chance discovery by Japanese patrol but also the possibility that the Huk guerrillas, their reluctant allies against the Japanese, would be hostile. The Rangers moved first to the town of Guimba, where they met up with a guerrilla leader, Eduardo Joson, who had worked with Lapham’s guerrillas. Before dawn on January 29, they forded the Talavera River and reached a staging point on the outskirts of Cabanatuan City. There, another guerrilla officer, Juan Pajota, reported that a Japanese division of eight thousand men or more was within five miles of the POW camp. Despite pressure to move quickly, Mucci decided to hold off the rescue mission for twenty-four hours.
The delay allowed further development of a complex rescue-and-retrieval operation that depended also on the support of civilians. Guerrillas took every conceivable precaution, down to the detail of telling civilians in the vicinity to muzzle all dogs and to pen their chicken flocks far from the road to avoid alerting the Japanese to unusual movements. Meanwhile the one-day postponement allowed for new surveillance of the POW camp—guerrillas monitored troop movements inside and nearby, and Mucci’s Rangers reviewed maps, including the location of prisoner quarters, and chose attack and firing positions on the perimeter of the camp. The final plan was to establish guerrilla roadblocks on the main Cabanatuan road—including one at the bridge near where Naomi had often brushed her hair to signal to Mr. Threatt when she had delivered messages and supplies for the camp.
The Rangers and the guerrilla units left Platero at 5:00 p.m. with the attack on the camp planned for 7:30 p.m. The guerrillas planted a bomb charge at the bridge that would be detonated fifteen to twenty minutes after the attack; that would block reinforcements from the Japanese division up the road. Guerrillas dug in on the periphery to shoot individual Japanese troops who might try to ford the river or come in from the opposite direction on the highway.
One additional detail had been called in ahead of time and worked perfectly. About forty minutes before the rescue assault, a futuristic P-61 Black Widow fighter plane buzzed the camp in two passes at two hundred feet to distract Japanese soldiers while the Rangers slithered into place on their bellies over an open field on the other side of the highway. Neither the prisoners nor the Japanese had seen a plane like that before—seeing the modern double-tail three-man fighter was about as strange as seeing a flying saucer. Murphy’s unit took extra time to cross under the highway and circle around to the back of the camp while Prince’s unit waited in place. Murphy gave the signal to open the attack at 7:45 p.m. The Rangers pulverized guard towers, shacks, and pillboxes and then charged through the gates in less than a minute; using their detailed maps, they moved toward the POW quarters.
They encountered 513 startled, disbelieving POWs. Many of these hollow-eyed men had been the original defenders at Bataan and Corregidor and had survived the death march more than two and a half years earlier. No longer among them were Mr. Threatt, Captain Tiffany, and Colonel Mack—all had died on hell ships or in camps in Japan. Long gone were Jack Utinsky, John Phillips, and the thousands of men who died at Cabanatuan or Camp O’Donnell. Colonel Arthur Shreve, who had survived the attack on one hell ship, was now en route to a labor camp. Major Dwight Gard, the Portland man who had been corresponding with Claire, had also survived a hell ship and was at a labor camp in Fukuoka, Japan. These remaining prisoners were left behind because they were for the most part too sick or weak to work.
Mucci’s Rangers led the men out
the front gate and loaded them onto waiting oxcarts. All were skeleton thin; most were barefoot and wearing only G-strings. The Rangers managed to get them clear of the camp and to the banks of the Pampanga River within forty-five minutes.
The surprise attack was a devastating victory. In the process, about 220 Japanese Army prison guards were killed; Pajota’s guerrillas destroyed four tanks and blocked and killed hundreds of enemy troops who tried to cross the blown-up bridge on his side of the roadblock. Joson’s contingent faced little problem on their side—the guerrillas provided rear support as the Rangers led the sickly POWs north to safety in a train of fifty-one water buffalo carts. The POWs arrived at an American field hospital at Guimba the following day, January 31, at midday. None of the prisoners was hurt during the rescue—one died of a heart attack, another of a lingering illness along the road to safety. Two American soldiers died, and four were wounded; no guerrillas were killed, but twenty of Pajota’s guerrillas were injured.
The rescue was a prototype for lightning operations beyond Japanese lines to rescue prisoners and detainees. General MacArthur ordered Major General Verne D. Mudge, division commander in the 1st Cavalry Division, to race ahead to Manila. A series of “flying columns” would cross Japanese lines to liberate Santo Tomas, Los Baños, Bilibid, and, not least, the women’s prison at Mandaluyong that housed Claire and her cell mates.
Liberation
University of Santo Tomas, Manila, February 3, 1945
