Due to his leg wound, Bogue was helped onto a horse to ease his suffering, while Mac was given an ornery water buffalo. As the group set out, Poyatos walked, leading Bogue’s horse to keep it from throwing him. This made their progress slow as they rode from the Puerto Princesa region deeper into the jungle. During the night, they passed dangerously close to Japanese patrols, at times within three hundred yards, but the Filipinos slipped them past each danger area without contact.
It was Christmas Eve when the group rode over the top of a hill and approached a Filipino village close to sundown. Mac watched his guides stop for a moment, and was amazed to hear them sing “God Bless America” in almost perfect English. He learned the ceremony marked their official crossing of some invisible line into the region the locals called the guerrilla zone.
“My friends,” Poyatos announced, “you are now in the free Philippines!”
Mac was unashamed of the tears that ran down his cheeks. A quick glance at Bogue showed him to be in the same emotional condition.
The Americans were greeted in the village that night by Manuel Palanca, the mayor of the Aborlan district they were entering. Palanca in turn introduced McDole and Bogue to Valentin F. Bacosa, an engineer of the Davao Penal Colony. Poyatos immediately headed back north to report to Paje that he had delivered the escapees to Bacosa, who would move them farther south through the Aborlan district toward Brooke’s Point. Their journey would continue again the next day after food and rest in the village.4
Although unknown to the two survivors at the time, their Filipino friends had discovered another of the escapees. Around 1730 on December 18, one of the patrols headed by Sentinani Moro had been out combing Puerto Princesa Bay. His men were disguised as fishermen, but their orders were to help any other Americans encountered. They came upon the floating corpse of an American, who had no form of identification on his body. Most likely they had discovered Don Martyn, who had not survived his escape swim with Bogue and company.5
Sentinani and his men hauled the body ashore to Camagong in the Iwahig Penal Colony, where Paje came to view it. He saw that the American escapee had been hit by machine-gun bullets in the chest and that he also had two bayonet wounds on both sides of his upper chest. Having duly informed the Kempei Tai of his find, Paje was notified several hours later that he could bury the American body. Paje ordered his men to give the fallen POW a proper burial in his colony’s cemetery.6
*
THE NAME NAZARIO Mayor carried considerable weight within Palawan’s guerilla network, and the six Americans guided to his home were undoubtedly impressed when the captain greeted them warmly in perfect English. Mayor was a muscular man who stood about five foot nine, with high, wide cheekbones, a broad forehead, and thick black hair, which he brushed back and parted down the middle.
Corporal Pablo Quiliop had been under orders to continue sailing the escapees farther south along the Palawan coast until they reached Mayor’s guerrilla headquarters at Brooke’s Point. Well ahead of McDole and Bogue’s party, Willie Smith, Gene Nielsen, Ernie Koblos, Ed Petry, Beto Pacheco, and Willie Balchus finally reached their destination on the afternoon of December 22. They concluded a full week on the run as they beached their crafts at Brooke’s Point and hiked several hundred yards inland to Mayor’s jungle dwelling.
Mayor’s family had long since abandoned its formal homes and had taken up residence in an abandoned, open-air house in the hills. The soldiers of fortune were armed with rifles and hand grenades, and possessed two-way radios for communicating with the U.S. Army headquarters at Morotai, located hundreds of miles away at Celebes.
Mayor’s children were amazed by the sight of the raggedy Americans. His seven-year-old daughter, Mary Anne, would never forget how the men looked. They were darkly tanned with many blisters on their skin from years of sun exposure, their hair was long, their beards were untrimmed, and they wore only hand-me-down, ill-fitting clothing provided by other Filipinos. Mary Anne thought of Americans as powerful, husky men, but these poor wrecks were walking skeletons, some barely weighing a hundred pounds.
Mayor’s wife, Mary, had no formal medical training, but she tended to the six as best she could, cleaning and wrapping their wounds. Robert Mayor, the oldest son at age fourteen, was particularly intrigued by how tall Willie Smith was compared to the average Filipino. Despite his injuries and condition, Smitty maintained a humorous demeanor, and he went out of his way to impress the children with his Texas twang. Mary Anne grew fond of Smitty because of the time he spent paying attention to the kids despite all of his personal hardships.
Their makeshift home at the temporary Mayor residence was no four-star hotel, but it was a far cry from the life the POWs had become accustomed to. They were tended to and fed, and allowed to finally catch up on their rest. The Americans were also pleased to be introduced to a man familiar to them, Thomas Loudon. The elder Spanish-American war veteran had arrived on foot at his son-in-law’s home at Brooke’s Point shortly ahead of the six escapees.
They learned that Loudon had made his own escape from Puerto Princesa with a walking cane one night in December shortly before the massacre. He slipped out from under the watchful eyes of the Japanese guards and silently moved out of town. Despite being seventy-three years old, he made his way alone across the rugged Palawan landscape, over the mountains, and to the west coast residence of Dr. Flores at Caruray. Captain Mayor soon received intelligence of Loudon’s escape and journeyed to Caruray to take charge of his father-in-law and lead him back to the family he had not seen during his long detainment by the Japanese.7
Smitty was familiar with Loudon. He had seen the older gentleman standing on the streets of Puerto Princesa when the POWs filed out to work at the airfields, and when they were escorted back at night. Loudon had never shown any emotion when the Americans strolled past him, but Smitty felt that the silver-haired gentleman looked more American than most of the locals.8
Mayor’s guerrillas sent word that two other Americans had been rescued and were making their way south toward his company’s camp. He had his men send communications via radio to General MacArthur in Australia, then waited to hear news of what he was to do with the escapees.
*
PEDRO PAJE SIMPLY had to lie.
Sergeant Deguchi’s Kempei Tai unit was scouring the Puerto Princesa region for answers regarding rumors of escaped Americans. He had received intelligence that the assistant director of the Iwahig Penal Colony and his men had found POWs who escaped the massacre. Paje was ordered to report to the Japanese military police substation at Irawan, where Deguchi and an interpreter interrogated him.9
Paje insisted he knew of no such reports; his men had found no living Americans since December 14. Deguchi continued to press him. The Palawan Underground Force had moved nine escapees in the past ten days from the Puerto Princesa area toward Brooke’s Point, making it difficult for Paje to deny everything. He suddenly remembered the body his scouts had turned up near the Iwahig shore.
“We did find one American,” he said, “but he was dead.” He related how his men had carried the body ashore to Camagong, and how he had properly reported the discovery to the Kempei Tai. “This must be the report you received about us finding an American in our colony.”
Deguchi acknowledged that the colonists had indeed offered up the escapee’s body after it was found. He allowed Paje to depart their headquarters and return to Iwahig.
Paje knew that he had just barely escaped Deguchi’s office with his life.
*
IT WAS CHRISTMAS night 1944 when McDole and Bogue finally saw Joe Barta again. He rode up to their huts on horseback, a blanket draped over his rail-thin body. As he was helped down, he moaned to Mac, “I’m hurt real bad.”
That afternoon, McDole and Bogue had reached the village of Aborlan, where another guerrilla team was waiting to continue guiding them along their journey. They bedded down in huts to rest and were disturbed at one point by the engine drone of a low-flying aircraf
t. Mac figured it was likely a Japanese plane scouring the coastline for any signs of Palawan camp escapees.10
That night around 2000, McDole heard a sudden commotion and excited voices. He slipped out of his hut to investigate. Barta had been brought into Aborlan by the busy Lieutenant Poyatos, who had hurried back to fetch him from Malinao Station. Barta’s ruptured scrotum had caused him considerable pain throughout the horseback ride. Mac lifted the blanket and saw that the flesh had been ripped open, his testicles exposed and maggots squirming in the raw, bloody wound. Barta explained that he’d lost sight of Bogue and the other swimmers during the night of December 14, and how he had eluded Japanese patrols until falling from the tree and severely injuring himself. His body showed the effects of the ten days he had since spent wandering the jungle until he had been discovered.11
The guerrilla scouts helped carry Barta into one of the huts, where McDole soaked the nasty wound in a purple medicine solution offered by the Filipinos. He cleaned out the infected area with soap and extracted the maggots, counting fifty-two by the time he had finished. Then he tried to remove the remaining dirt and grime and covered Barta’s wound with dried brown leaves—another trick the Filipinos had taught him.12
As McDole was finishing his work on Barta, one of the scouts entered the hut and announced that other Palawan Massacre survivors had passed through the village just days before. Bogue and McDole asked if they remembered any of the names, in response to which the scout produced a scrap of paper. He read the names of Edwin Petry, William Balchus, Ernest Koblos, Eugene Nielsen, Alberto Pacheco, and Willie Smith.
Mac smiled broadly. “My God, Smitty made it!”
*
NAZARIO MAYOR TREATED his new American friends to several celebrations during their convalescence at Brooke’s Point. The local families prepared great meals for the holidays, which helped the men regain some of their lost weight. On Christmas Eve, Sergeant Placido made doughnuts, and the entire group enjoyed midnight services conducted by the priest. On December 29, they enjoyed a Catholic wedding ceremony, after which a bull was butchered and alcohol flowed freely. Smitty enjoyed the good food but found that his weakened stomach could not handle the booze.13
The food and festivities helped lighten the serious danger that the Americans still faced from Japanese soldiers patrolling Palawan. Mayor and Placido continued their communications with MacArthur’s Australian headquarters, and by January 1, 1945, they had received encouraging word that efforts were under way to evacuate the first party of American survivors.
The guerrillas received instructions to build large bonfires on the beach the next night to help guide in a Catalina PBY flying boat. If the crew spotted the signal fires at the proper distance, they would land before dawn and pick up the survivors. Spirits soared among the Americans. They waited eagerly at the edge of the jungle the next night as Mayor’s men built the fires. They soon heard the drone of engines, and aircraft slowly buzzed about the point, circling to inspect the area in the darkness.
A short while later, the PBY and its escorts moved on. During the next two days, the men experienced both excitement and despair as other American aircraft probed about their area night and day. The signal fires blazed as instructed each evening, leaving the men to wonder what was wrong. Had they spotted Japanese forces close by, or were the sea conditions judged too rough for safe landing?14
Carlos Placido’s radio crackled to life on January 5 with another update from Australia. The men were to be ready the following day, when another flying boat would be sent in around noon to attempt a daylight pickup. The guerrillas were to set their signal fires on the beach and be prepared to move their evacuees to the aircraft if the wind and sea conditions permitted.
The men were waiting once again after daybreak on January 6, 1945, three weeks since the Palawan Massacre. Koblos, Petry, Nielsen, Balchus, Pacheco, and Smith listened with tempered optimism as the morning hours ticked by. Waiting with them was the elderly Thomas Loudon, as Mayor had decided to send his father-in-law out in company with the Americans to offer intelligence on the guerrilla network on Palawan. Loudon would be killed if the Japanese caught him now.
It was long after the noon hour before the men heard the familiar rumbling of engines approaching. It was a massive PBY from the 18th Army Air Force, piloted by Captain Clarence L. “Solie” Solander. His Playmate 42 had departed Morotai Island at 0505, rendezvoused at 1110 over the Sulu Islands with an escorting B-24, and set course for Brooke’s Point. At 1250, Solander sighted seven men signaling from the beach. The plane landed minutes later and taxied close to shore. One of the crew crawled out onto its wings and began shouting. The man’s words faded away with the engine noise, so Nielsen and Pacheco swam out to the flying boat. Solander asked how rocky the bottom was near shore before he chanced bringing his plane into the shallows. The men shouted back that it was just sand, so Playmate 42 pulled close in.15
Eager airmen helped the six escapees and Thomas Loudon into the PBY. Solander remained at the shore’s edge long enough to obtain intelligence from Mayor’s guerrillas about the disposition of Japanese troops on Palawan and also learn that three other rescued Americans were a short distance away. The captain promised that he would help make arrangements for them to be rescued soon. His escorting B-24 still maintained a vigil overhead.
The plane took off at 1335 and searched the coast for three more escaped prisoners reported to be in the vicinity. But the search was negative, so they departed for Morotai, arriving at 2005. En route, Nielsen was handed a pair of size-twelve shoes—the first proper covering on his feet in three years.16
When they arrived over Morotai, they gazed down at hundreds of bombers and fighters that dotted the vast air base. The escapees compared it to their small but heroic air force in the days of Bataan and Corregidor. In the many months since the Japanese had taken the men captive in 1942, America’s ramshackle military had morphed into the most powerful fighting force in the world. Morotai, they learned, was but one of many new airfields established across the Pacific as America’s efforts to retake the Philippines had progressed.
Helped ashore and moved to the 155th General Hospital for evaluation and treatment, they were swarmed over by Army physicians. After years of being surrounded by Filipinos and Japanese of smaller build, Smitty was in awe of the countless tall, husky Americans working the base. He and his companions were kept in one end of the ward, away from other patients, for security measures.17
Doctors treated the gunshot wounds of Nielsen and Pacheco, and tended to the badly broken left arm of Ernie Koblos. In the next few days, they would perform surgery on it to wire the bones together. Koblos was disappointed that the wounds and surgery had ruined the dragon tattoo on his arm, but he was pleased that the doctor was at least able to pull the dragon back together.
The morning after they arrived, Smitty wandered the U.S. base. He found two Japanese prisoners of war being held in a stockade, with a tent for their home. He was disturbed to see the conditions they were allowed to live in, complete with radios and good food—in sharp contrast to his treatment as a prisoner. He wanted to approach the prisoners to talk to them, but he was cut off by two armed soldiers who informed him that contact with the POWs was prohibited.
Senior army officers arrived that afternoon to begin the process of interrogating the seven Palawan escapees. A general promised the Americans that they would be well taken care of and that he would provide anything they needed. As each man told his story, intelligence officers from the Army’s G-2 branch took careful notes on what had happened at the Puerto Princesa camp. The news was disturbing. Since the Japanese had ordered a complete annihilation of the U.S. prisoners held there, the same treatment could likely be expected for thousands more POWs being held throughout the Philippines.
The intelligence was flashed to General MacArthur, who was preparing another strike in his campaign to retake the Philippines. Two days later, on January 9, 1945, the invasion of Luzon commenced in Lingayen
Gulf. It involved 164 ships, 3,000 landing craft, and some 280,000 American troops who swarmed ashore with relative ease only a hundred miles north of Manila. Just as he had on Leyte months earlier, MacArthur—clad in a khaki uniform and wearing his signature Ray-Ban sunglasses—made a well-photographed return as he splashed ashore.18
MacArthur’s forces, armed with the intelligence from the Palawan escapees, would soon put plans in motion to reach other POW camps near Manila before the Japanese could kill the men held in them. The first raid took place on January 30, sixty miles northeast of Manila at Cabanatuan, where U.S. Army Rangers, Alamo Scouts, and Filipino guerrillas liberated 513 American and Allied prisoners. MacArthur sent the 6th Army’s 1st Cavalry Division—seven hundred men with a tank company and a battalion of 105mm howitzers—to smash through the gates of the Santo Tomás prison camp after sunset on February 3 to effect the release of two hundred more hostages. The following day, the 1st Cavalry freed another eight hundred military prisoners being held ten blocks away at Bilibid Prison.19
Encouraged by these successes, MacArthur’s forces began planning a raid to liberate another two thousand POWs being held at the Luzon prison camp of Los Baños, located forty miles farther south of Bilibid and deep within Japanese-held territory. Conducted on February 23 by a joint U.S. Army Airborne and Filipino guerrilla task force, the raid involved recon teams, paratroopers, and amtracs that crashed through the main gate. Considered one of the most successful rescue operations in modern military history, the Great Raid on the Los Baños camp resulted in the liberation of 2,147 Allied and civilian internees.
The first six men out of the Palawan camp had helped save more than thirty-six hundred other POW lives. But five of their fellow Puerto Princesa survivors were still praying for their own rescues.
*
THE JOURNEY OF Mac McDole, Joe Barta, and Doug Bogue through the Aborlan region encountered lengthy delays. Barta’s wounds slowed their progress, and during that time, McDole was seized with another attack of malaria. A high fever consumed his body, sapping his ability to handle much food. His skinny frame shed another two pounds until he had dwindled to a 118-pound walking skeleton. The Filipinos moved the three escapees south until they finally reached Captain Mayor’s guerrilla camp at Brooke’s Point on January 7, 1945—just one day after the successful pickup of the first Palawan Massacre survivors.
As Good As Dead Page 25
