Before the General departed later that afternoon, he confirmed that the 11th’s mission was to defend the five-mile stretch of coast along the Lingayen Gulf. For the final weeks of November, units of the 11th Infantry Regiment continued to drill and maneuver in the sweltering heat. Although it was no easy task, the indigenous soldiers of the 11th Infantry were coming together as a cohesive military unit. Finally, after three months of continuous training, Volckmann earned a three-day pass for Thanksgiving weekend. 20
Relaxing at the officer’s club in Baguio, however, Volckmann’s weekend was cut short by an urgent phone call from General William Brougher, the 11th Division’s commander. According to Brougher, every unit in the Philippines had been put on high alert and all weekend passes had been cancelled. Volckmann was ordered to return to his regiment that same day. With his weekend spoiled and not knowing why the alert had been called, Volckmann hastened himself back to Lingayen Gulf. Upon his arrival, he found no further news from either the Regimental or Division Headquarters. 21 Could this have been just another drill?
The Army was quite fond of conducting these “drills,” and Murphy’s Law stipulated that an officer’s weekend pass always coincided with one. However, the following morning, on Monday, 1 December, Volckmann learned that USAFFE Intelligence had detected a large Japanese naval convoy entering the South China Sea. 22 Volckmann hoped that the alert would pass without incident. Perhaps the Imperial Japanese Navy was on its way to Borneo…or Indochina.
CHAPTER 2
Rising Sun
Arriving at Regimental Headquarters on the morning of 8 December, Volckmann received word that Pearl Harbor had been bombed. By now, it was no surprise that war had finally come, but no one had anticipated a first strike on Hawaii. Volckmann himself could hardly believe it. Why would the Japanese attack Hawaii—over 4,000 nautical miles from Tokyo—when the Philippines were closer and presented a much easier target? Suddenly, it dawned on him: the entire Pacific Fleet was anchored at Pearl. Fearing the worst, he knew that the Japanese would terrorize the Pacific if unchecked by the U.S. Navy. 23
At 8:20 a.m., a mechanical murmur descended over the Regimental Staff Office. Barely audible at first, it grew steadily into a roar that rattled books from their shelves and sent wall clocks crashing to the floor. There was no mistaking that sound: the Imperial Japanese Navy Air Service had arrived. Running outside, Volckmann stood agape as he counted 60 Japanese bombers thundering overhead. Bypassing Regimental Headquarters, the warplanes continued their flight pattern southward over the horizon. Ten minutes later, the first of their bombs fell on the airfield at Camp John Hay. 24
The war had begun.
Minutes after the final bomber disappeared from view, the 11th Infantry received orders to occupy their five-mile stretch of coast along Lingayen Gulf. Five miles long and 150 yards wide, this area was larger than what a regiment could feasibly defend. All along the beach, enormous gaps dotted the defensive line. Although ammunition was no longer a problem, the regiment still lacked engineer tools. Thus, to build their defensive enclaves, Volckmann dispatched several parties into Dagupan and the surrounding communities to borrow any civilian equipment available. Items including saws, shovels, garden hoes, and pick axes were used to construct their redoubts. For lack of better building materials, the 11th Infantry made their shelters and pillboxes from wet sand and palm trees. 25
Volckmann was surprised by the men’s newfound sense of urgency. In fact, he had never before seen them work so efficiently. No longer did they have to be encouraged to dig their foxholes and trenches to the appropriate depths—the impending invasion was enough to motivate them. For the next three days, every man on the line worked beyond exhaustion. Occupying the beach with nothing larger than a .50 caliber machine gun, however, Volckmann knew that the odds were not in their favor.
Certainly, they could inflict some damage on the Japanese, but Volckmann knew that his men would eventually be overrun. In the best-case scenario, the regiment would have to face only a handful of landing craft and a few Japanese marines. At worst, however, they could be facing an entire naval detachment. A naval task force could take on any composition, but was sure to have at least two gunships, multiple landing craft, and close air support. Whatever the odds may have been, Volckmann worried more for his troops than for himself.
On 10 December, the first elements of the Japanese Fourteenth Army landed near Aparri on the northern coast of Luzon. Simultaneously, another contingent landed at Vigan on the western coast, only 50 miles north of Volckmann’s sector. As the Japanese drew nearer to the Lingayen beach, Colonel Townsend, the Regimental Commander, was suddenly relieved of duty and reassigned to a “special mission” in Cagayan Valley. Volckmann never knew the details of this reassignment, but to relieve Townsend now made almost no sense; Townsend was a competent commander and he had certainly done nothing to warrant a punitive reassignment. Upon his departure, he announced that instead of receiving a new commander, he was relinquishing command to Volckmann. As a captain with only seven years experience, Volckmann was now in command of an entire regiment. He felt prepared for the job but wondered why USAFFE had reassigned Townsend so quickly. Ultimately, he feared that the 11th Infantry had been designated a “sacrifice outfit” and that USAFFE would not risk the life of a colonel in such a unit. 26
As the enemy closed in on Central Luzon, Division Headquarters (HQ) sounded retreat for all regiments in the Lingayen Gulf area. Meanwhile, General MacArthur defaulted on the infamous “Orange Plan,” and called for all ground units to make their way towards Bataan.* On Christmas Eve 1941, the 11th Infantry withdrew from the Lingayen beach. Around midnight on Christmas Day, the regiment crossed the Agno River at Bayambang. In his diary, Volckmann recounts an incident that he describes as the bane of every military commander. Before crossing the river, heavy machine gun fire ripped through the silence of the night:
Seconds after the machine gun firing, which came from the direction of the river, a wave of terrified officers and men (my regiment) were running away from the river. I drew my 45 cal. revolver and yelled to every American officer within hearing to drive every officer and man back to the riverbank. After a hectic time of what seemed to be hours, we managed to get the entire regiment back into positions along the river. I then found a bugler and ordered “Officers Call” sounded. When all the officers were assembled, I told them that was the first and last time that officers and men of the regiment would retreat without orders. I further made it clear that if ever again I saw an officer running to the rear or failing to do his utmost to stop his men from retreating without orders, I would shoot him on the spot. 27
Volckmann later found out that the machine gun fire belonged to a trigger-happy American tank crewman.
On 26 December, the Japanese hit the Agno River to the east and west of the regiment’s assembly area. With the Japanese now only one day behind him, he knew that time was running out. Although his natural instinct was to turn and fight the Japanese head-on, common sense told him otherwise: he had no idea what sized unit was behind him. At any rate, the Japanese were bound to have artillery support—a luxury he no longer had.
* The Orange Plan was the “doomsday scenario” for an invasion of the Philippines. It called for a last stand on the Bataan Peninsula.
The following day, Division HQ sent word that the regiment was to abandon all heavy weapons and continue southward to a rendezvous point at Paniqui. 28 Volckmann was livid. His men had been suffering from supply issues since the day the unit was activated—there was no way he was giving up any of their equipment now. They hadn’t even traded fire with the Japanese yet. True, his regiment may have been outgunned, but Volckmann knew better than to continue his retreat while combat ineffective.
Fuming over the Division’s latest order, he spied a railroad track running north and south through his position. Suddenly, Volckmann had an idea: if the regiment could not carry out the heavy equipment, then a locomotive certainly could. Pleading with HQ
, he secured a steam engine with seven boxcars to come in under the cover of night. Arriving shortly before midnight, every square inch of railcar was loaded to capacity. What could not fit on the train was loaded onto the regimental trucks. 29
At daybreak, the entire regiment arrived at Paniqui where they rejoined the rest of the 11th Division. Ironically, it was here that Volckmann discovered just how lucky his regiment had been. Of the four regiments that comprised the 11th Division, his was the only one still intact. 30 The remaining three, while still functional, had already taken a tremendous beating.
On 28 December, the Division settled into a defensive line astride Highway 13. Extending from the town of La Paz in the west to Zaragoza in the east, Volckmann’s sector lay over a three-mile stretch of road. Volckmann received orders from Division HQ to “hold a line north of the La Paz—Carmen—Zaragoza road until you are licked” (emphasis added). 31 The adjacent units operating with Volckmann on the line were the 21st Division, which was situated west on Highway 3, and the 91st Division (Philippine Army), that was to the east covering Highway 5 and the Carmen-Cabanatuan sector of Highway 13.
The terrain on which the 11th Infantry found itself was far from ideal. Almost the entire area surrounding La Paz and Zaragoza consisted of rice paddies that had been drained from the previous harvest. Aside from the intermittent bamboo groves, the regiment had no other means of concealment. The main approaches to Volckmann’s area came from the north: one road from Victoria to La Paz, another from Carmen to Cabanatuan. The regiment’s second battalion covered the Victoria-La Paz route while the third battalion was detached to the 91st Division to cover the area around Carmen and Zaragoza. The first battalion was held in reserve at Barrio Caut, just south of La Paz. This configuration seemed ideal for the time being: the regiment occupied an area that would not overstretch its manpower and there were two whole divisions on either side of it. The other regiments of the 11th Division took up defenses elsewhere in the area.
Volckmann was convinced that the Japanese’s most likely avenue of approach would be the road from Carmen. General Brougher, the 11th Division commander, met with Volckmann on the evening of the 30th. After inspecting the regimental defenses, Brougher confirmed that the 91st Division was responsible for the Carmen-Cabanatuan road. Before leaving, the General made it clear that the regiment was to “hold the line at all costs.” 32 After a brief meeting with his battalion commanders, Volckmann determined that everything was in good order and turned in for some rest. But what he awakened to the next morning infuriated him.
At daybreak, Volckmann was startled awake by the sound of heavy machine gun fire. What startled him even more was that it sounded so close. Jumping to his feet, it sounded as though his 3rd battalion had made enemy contact around Carmen-Zaragoza. Because 3rd battalion had no wire or radio communications, Volckmann hopped in his command car and drove to their sector. En route, Volckmann wondered why 3rd battalion would be engaged in such heavy fighting. His prediction that the enemy would arrive on the Carmen-Cabanatuan road proved correct, but the 91st Division was to assume the brunt of the assault. From what he could deduce, it sounded as though 3rd battalion was fighting alone. Upon arriving at the battalion command post, he found that the battalion was indeed alone. The 91st Division had withdrawn earlier in the night without informing anyone! Volckmann’s 3rd battalion had been attached to the 91st Division and yet no one, not even a runner, had been sent to inform them of the move. By the looks of the situation, Volckmann determined that the 91st Division’s absence had allowed the Japanese to move further south, bypass Cabantuan, and hook around to catch 3rd battalion in the rear. 33
Volckmann scrambled to get reinforcements to the beleaguered 3rd battalion, but Companies A and L were completely cut off and all attempts to make contact with them had failed. The 1st battalion, still in reserve at Barrio Caut, was ordered to launch a counterattack but was decimated by heavy Japanese fire before it could make any progress. To make matters worse, the Carmen-Zaragoza Bridge had been blown up amidst the confusion, thus denying the battalion its primary escape route. To stem the tide of confusion, Volckmann ordered what remained of 3rd battalion to form a defensive firing line on the bank of the La Paz River. This would provide at least some protection for the regiment’s only remaining withdrawal route. 34
Volckmann’s entry for 31 December records the battle in exquisite detail:
A tank platoon in my area, but not under my command, withdrew and … ordered the engineers to destroy the [Carmen-Zaragoza] Bridge. This prevented me from moving my reserve by motor [trucks] to counterattack the Japs in an effort to save Companies A and L. I ordered a platoon of the reserve to move by motors to the bridge east of Zaragoza with instructions to repair the bridge.
As my men began repairing the bridge from one end, the Japs began repairing it from the other end. Giving this idea up, I returned to the west side of Zaragoza where I met Capt. Robinson with one company of the 1st battalion. After giving him the situation, I directed him to counterattack in the direction of Carmen [east]. A lieutenant, with his platoon of tanks, was parked along the road. I asked him if he was interested in joining the 1st battalion in a counterattack. He agreed to join.
I was standing up on the front seat of a Bren Carrier [small utility vehicle similar to a tank] looking down the narrow road toward Zaragoza, watching the progress of the 1st battalion counterattack when I noticed some men dash across the road about 150 yards up. I assumed they were our men but, a few seconds later, my Bren Carrier was plastered with machine gun fire. Automatically, I dropped down into the seat of the Carrier and, at the same instant, my rear gunner opened up with his machine gun. The muzzle of the gun was only inches from my ear and I thought my eardrum had been broken. As soon as the Jap machine gun opened up on us, the tank lieutenant scrambled into his tank. He had no more than shut the turret when a Jap anti-tank gun put a round into the tank…the turret flew open and the lieutenant jumped to ground. The next Jap anti-tank round took the lieutenant’s leg off.
Seeing there was no time to organize the counterattack from this point, I ordered K Company [third battalion] to withdraw to the west bank of the Zaragoza River and take up a defensive position astride the road facing east. I then drove the Bren Carrier down the narrow causeway, zigzagging as much as possible in hopes that the Jap antitank gun would miss. The Japs tried hard, but luck was with me—I made [it to the] La Paz [River]… 35
While organizing the new defensive line, Volckmann’s position was suddenly hit by artillery fire. Terrified, he found himself diving for cover into the nearest ditch. As he lay in the muddy wallow, he witnessed the shell bursts flying overhead. Fiery shrapnel landed only inches away from his body—truly a horrific sight. Hugging the ground, his bones rattled with every thunderous explosion as shell after shell pounded the banks of the La Paz River. 36 With every fire adjustment, the rounds inched closer and closer. When it appeared as though the next barrage would blast him from his hole, he poised himself to make a run for it. But just then, the firing stopped. Volckmann could not figure out why but he had no time to sit and wonder; he had to get his men out of there.
In addition to the artillery nuisance, the 11th Infantry had to contend with an increasing number of enemy dive-bombers. While taking cover from another artillery salvo, he received orders to withdraw to Concepcion. Volckmann acknowledged the order, but knew better than to withdraw right now, for it was still daylight. Any movements now would expose what remained of his regiment to the Japanese aerial patrols. He was certain that if General Brougher were aware of the circumstances, he would agree on a nighttime withdrawal.
Despite uneven odds, the regiment held the lines and inflicted heavy losses on the Japanese trying to cross the La Paz River. At nightfall, the 11th Infantry broke contact and moved out of La Paz toward Concepcion. In the last 24 hours, Volckmann had lost over 300 of his men. Yet, in spite of his tragic losses, he was proud that his regiment had fought valiantly under so many handicaps. By th
is time, most of the men were without shoes. The uniforms they had been issued the previous summer were tattered and torn, some to the point where they were no longer wearable. Their rifles were only marginally better. Over 500 had broken extractors, and those riflemen who had to contend with this used bamboo rods to push out the expended cartridges. The process was time-consuming but necessary considering that the regiment had no spare parts. 37
Over the following week, the 11th Infantry continued its withdrawal towards Bataan. On New Year’s Day 1942, Volckmann ushered in the New Year by ambushing two Japanese columns. While occupying their next defensive position on Mt. Arayat, the first column of Japanese troops came through the adjacent road at about 4:30 in the afternoon. Because they had no forward security elements ahead of their column, the Japanese obviously did not expect to find any resistance around Mt. Arayat. The machine gun teams Volckmann had placed at choke points in the road took care of the Japanese column in short order. A few minutes later, another column came into the regiment’s sector, this time along a railroad track. These troops, too, had no security elements. Just as they had done with the previous column minutes before, the 11th Infantry cut them down in a blaze of gunfire.
By 2 January 1942, the 11th had moved into the town of Guagua. Volckmann was ordered to make this his next defensive enclave. After conducting a reconnaissance of the area and issuing orders to battalion commanders, he began planning for the next withdrawal. It was to be his routine for the rest of the campaign: withdraw, defend a predetermined area, trade fire with the enemy, break contact, and withdraw again—at least until he reached Bataan.
Mike Guardia Page 3
