As impossible as it seemed, the prisoners who had arrived at Pine Tree Camp aboard the Brazil Maru were once again being bombarded by their own military. They raced through the compound on stick-like legs, trying to avoid being crushed and, at the same time, collect the blessings they had missed for so long. Within a day a flight correction was made and the planes flew at greater altitudes so that the chutes would open properly.
The men in the camps had lost significant amounts of weight. Myers guessed he was down from his usual one sixty-five to around ninety pounds. One man in camp had lost 110 pounds, more than half of his body weight. Without a thought to the consequences, Myers watched the men gorge themselves on the newly dropped provisions just as they had done with the brown sugar aboard ship.
The military must have suspected the prisoners would have difficulty with the food. Soon new leaflets rained down, warning the prisoners not to overeat. After a protracted starvation diet, too much food too quickly could be fatal. Not all the men heeded the advice. When the Pine Tree Camp burial detail lay to rest their final man, he was a prisoner who died of overeating.
On August 27, Allied ships cruised into Japanese ports. American troops systematically went from camp to camp, liberating the gaunt, half-naked men. They arrived at Pine Tree Camp on September 1 and transported the prisoners to the Moji Harbor. There, the newly freed men boarded a small landing craft that took them out to the waiting hospital ship.
The POWs who were too ill or weak to walk were admitted directly to the wards for immediate treatment. Those who were ambulatory, including Myers and Tarpy, were taken to the decontamination ward. Their clothing was discarded and they took showers, the first they’d had in more than three years. The men were issued new clothing and examined by a medical officer to determine whether they could immediately begin the passage home.
Three years, eight months, and twenty-five days had passed since the Japanese first bombed the Philippines. Estel Myers was finally going home.
Five hundred miles northeast of the ship on which Myers was awakening to his first full day of freedom, the official surrender ceremony was taking place in the Tokyo harbor. The ceremony was scheduled for midmorning of September 2 aboard the 45,000-ton battleship Missouri. Scattered through the harbor were scores of other ships from the 3rd Fleet, American flags fluttering from them in the morning sun. The sailors aboard the ships were dressed in their whites; the Marines wore freshly pressed suntans.
An ordinary mess table draped in green baize cloth was set up on the ship’s forward quarterdeck. On the table lay two sets of surrender documents—one in English and the other in Japanese.
At 0800 hours, the ship’s band played “The Star Spangled Banner” and a detail raised an American flag, the same one that flew over the nation’s Capitol building on the day of infamy in 1941. Hundreds of enlisted men and officers were already assembled, including Lieutenant General Jonathan Wainwright and British Lieutenant General Sir Arthur Percival. At 0815, Admiral Nimitz and General MacArthur came on board, followed thirty-five minutes later by the arrival alongside the Missouri of a small American ship. The vessel carried Japanese Foreign Minister Mamoru Shigemitsu and General Yoshijiro Umetsu, the Supreme War Counsel, who had threatened suicide rather than take part in such a degrading ceremony. With them were seven generals and admirals and three men formally attired in top hats, morning coats, and striped pants.
At 0859, MacArthur stepped up to the microphone a few feet from the table and addressed those assembled.
“From this solemn occasion, a better world shall emerge out of the blood and carnage of the past.” He motioned for the Japanese delegation to come forward. At 0904, Foreign Minister Mamoru Shigemitsu signed the documents, officially ending World War II. After the Allies signed, MacArthur concluded the twenty-minute ceremony: “Let us pray that peace be now restored to the world and that God preserve it always. These proceedings are now closed.”
Minutes later, those aboard the Missouri heard a rumbling which quickly grew to a roar. A formation of nine B-29 Superfortresses took shape, followed by several more formations. Other Allied aircraft appeared—Avengers, Hellcats, Corsairs, Helldivers, Liberators, Flying Fortresses, Billy Mitchells—nearly one thousand in all. They roared over the bay toward Tokyo in a final display of military power.
For Myers and the other men, their new freedom was similar to being awakened from a long nightmare, as if they were coming back from the grave. Since the Japanese were not bound by any of the conventions regarding POW treatment and had allowed practically no communication in or out of the camps, neither the military nor the men’s families knew who had survived and who hadn’t. As soon as they were able, the men sent word home.
Myers’ letter arrived at his parents’ home in Kentucky on September 16.
Dear Mother,
This is the first opportunity I’ve had in years to write and now that I have the chance there’s more than I can begin to write. If you want to know about me I’ll have lots of stories when I get there. I’m well and gaining weight very fast. After my little journey, which 1600 prisoners began and 300 survived, I weighed 104 pounds. I have gained enough strength and now I weigh around 140 so you can see how fast I’m coming back….
Is Norma married yet? I’m afraid to try to write to her because four years is a long time and a lot of water has passed under the bridge…. I’m leaving Japan today on a destroyer. The only time I’ll be happier is when I get home. It’s been terrible. How is dad and all? Does Iola have any more children? I hope to see you all very soon.
Lots and lots of love, Estel.
P. S. We weren’t allowed to have any pencils or anything in our possession so it’s been a long time since I did any writing.
The doctors on board the hospital ship began the task of healing the prisoners’ physical ailments without delay. Myers told the doctor examining him that during his more than three years of imprisonment he had suffered from dengue, ascariasis, chronic diarrhea, bronchitis, asthma, beriberi, pellagra, night blindness, malaria, and general malnutrition. He was still suffering from some of the diseases and had lingering aftereffects of all of them. When the doctor asked Myers if he had any particular complaints, Myers told him no. For a man who had suffered through the trials that Myers had, having no complaints seemed unusual to the doctor.
After the same type of interrogation of other former POWs and other incongruous answers, the doctors realized that the psychological ailments these men were suffering from would take much longer to heal than their bodies would. Each man reacted to his new freedom in a unique way, ranging from extreme elation to complete apathy. Some of the men couldn’t talk enough about their experiences, while others preferred to sort things out in their own heads.
With the help of a former POW who was a chaplain, the medical staff aboard the hospital ship was able to help those who needed it over the rough spots of repatriation. The priest advised them to treat the POWs by following two pieces of advice. First, he told them not to give the men any obvious sympathy. They needed someone to listen, not pity them. Secondly, he told the crew to give lots of tender, loving care. This, he said, had been missed the most.
For Myers, dealing with healing and the readjustment to freedom would be managed in the manner most familiar to him. Myers was a man with strong character and a positive outlook on life. His faith in God, his love of family, and his sense of duty and honor were the things he held closest to his heart. They were what sustained him through his darkest hours as a prisoner of war and nothing was more important. And now that he tasted freedom, he had neither the desire to discuss the past nor the wish to complain about the present. He was only interested in the future.
On October 6, 1945, the USS Catron sailed under the Golden Gate Bridge into the San Francisco harbor with about seven hundred fifty repatriated men. Among them was Estel Myers. They shed tears unashamedly as they looked through the misty sunlight at the sign on sho
re that read simply, “Welcome Home!” By Treasure Island, another sign read, “Hi Mates, Well Done!”
Myers had come full circle. When he had embarked from Treasure Island in April of 1941, he was a young man, fresh off the farm, eager to find his place in a rapidly changing world. Since that time, he had traveled a distance that was equal to the circumference of the earth. He had earned the friendship of many men and the respect of others. He had seen places unlike any his family could ever imagine.
But Myers had also seen the apocalyptic side of mankind. Death, torture, mutilation—these were only words to describe the acts he witnessed. In reality, nothing could describe what depravity roamed the black abyss of his captors’ souls. Estel Myers had looked into the belly of the beast and would be forever changed by what he had seen there.
Epilogue
There was no doubt in the minds of the American military and the American public that the Japanese were responsible for a great many atrocities during the years of World War II. The difficulty came in determining which Japanese were responsible and to what level. Unlike their Nazi counterparts, the trials in the Pacific often took much longer and often resulted in the guilty parties receiving no sentence whatsoever. The debate continues over why this was so, impeding efforts to bring closure to this terrible chapter in human history.
In order to facilitate legal proceedings, the Allies created three classes of war crimes and corresponding war criminals. “A” Class criminals were tried by the International Military Tribunal of the Far East in Tokyo. They were the highest-ranking officials in the Japanese government who were found to have direct knowledge of acts of incomprehensible barbarism or to have directly ordered such acts. The Allies then developed a list of more than three hundred thousand “B” and “C” Class criminals, stopping only because they realized they had to stop somewhere. In the end, only fifty-seven hundred were actually tried, the proceedings taking place in the areas where the crimes occurred.
The trials began shortly after the surrender was officially signed. On September 15, 1945, General Tomoyuki Yamashita, the “Tiger of Malaya” and the man from whom General MacArthur retook the Philippines, was sentenced to death by an American military court in Manila. MacArthur procured Yamashita’s seven-hundred-year-old fighting sword and had it sent to West Point for display.
The prime “A” Class criminal was General Hideki Tojo, who had served as prime minister, war minister, and home minister during the war. On September 16, 1945, weeks before his trial, he attempted suicide but failed. He recovered from his wound and was sentenced to death by hanging. The sentence was carried out on December 23, 1948.
General Masaharu Homma, the commander of the Japanese troops who captured the Philippines, was classified as another “A” Class criminal. He was executed by a firing squad in April 1946, a date that ironically corresponded with the date of the fall of Bataan four years earlier.
The two men responsible for the horror aboard the Oryoku Maru, Enoura Maru, and Brazil Maru were found guilty of multiple war crimes. On May 9, 1947, Lieutenant Junsabura Toshino, the ships’ commander, was sentenced to death by hanging, while Shusuke Wada, the nefarious interpreter, got life imprisonment at hard labor.
The man who signed the surrender documents aboard the Missouri, Foreign Minister Mamoru Shigemitsu, was sentenced to seven years’ imprisonment.
The final fate of Emperor Hirohito was by no means satisfactory to many Americans, who believed that as the chief of state of Japan he should have been tried, found guilty of war crimes, and subsequently executed. Following Japan’s unconditional surrender, General MacArthur oversaw the occupation of the country for six years. During that time, the Emperor saved himself by agreeing to the de-deification of his position. In other words, Hirohito remained as emperor but surrendered his divine powers. Neither did he have any political powers, but took the position of a mere mortal figurehead. Since he had never exercised his powers as emperor in any way, political or divine, many have been left to wonder how fitting a punishment this was for a man whose country made 59,167 men and women prisoners of war, of which 23,559 died.
Hirohito and his family became the subjects of human-interest stories, in much the same way other royal families’ lives are reported. He renewed his interest in biology and was published several times on the subject. On January 7, 1989, Hirohito died of cancer at his Imperial Palace, at the age of eighty-eight.
The saddest epilogue to World War II was the difficulty the ex-POWs have had in putting their lives back together. These men and women lost all of their innocence and a great deal of their hope. The nightmares they lived on foreign soil followed them home to their own bedrooms and remained with them for the rest of their lives.
Statistics abound detailing how many of our troops made it and how many didn’t and what the percentage of survivorship works out to be. There were 23,317 Americans in all branches of service in the Philippines when the war broke out. About one thousand were killed in action. Four hundred, mainly men of the 19th Bombardment Group, escaped to Australia. That left 21,917 to become prisoners of the Japanese. At least 12,195 died as POWs for many reasons, but starvation was the primary cause of death for the great majority. The 9,732 survivors were repatriated. But what that 42 percent had lived through during the war was only the beginning of their trials.
Physically, more former POWs suffer from tuberculosis and cirrhosis of the liver than their peers who were not prisoners. They have a higher than normal incidence of cancer and heart problems. Their general state of health is average at best. They suffer from a laundry list of psychological difficulties. Studies of “prisoner of war syndrome” have shown it to be progressive and unpredictable. The long-term effects of starvation, malnutrition, maltreatment, disease, and mental stress can manifest themselves at any time. It is an unfortunate state of affairs that these men and women, who gave so much at the most pivotal point of the twentieth century, have had to live constantly with the consequences of their sacrifices.
As soon as Myers arrived back on American soil, he phoned his family from the naval base in Oakland, California, to let them know he was on his way home. A train took him from Oakland to Chicago, and another took him from there to Louisville. Since all POWs were automatically given a one rank promotion, Myers arrived home as a Pharmacist’s Mate First Class. In early November, he was honored along with other veterans in an Armistice Day parade in Louisville, and then reported to the naval hospital in Memphis for more examinations.
The hospital found him “mentally and physically qualified to perform all the duties of his rate” and recommended that “he be returned to full duty.” He continued the prescribed rehabilitation and on March 13, 1946, was honorably separated from the Navy. Myers was awarded the American Theatre Medal, the Victory Medal, the Asiatic Pacific Medal, and the American Campaign Ribbon. He was presented with three bronze stars for “meritorious service as a Hospital Corpsman” during the hell ship ordeal. James Forrestal, Secretary of the Navy, made this commendation on behalf of President Truman on January 18, 1947:
Myers made every effort possible to alleviate the suffering of his fellow prisoners and sustain their morale, despite his own intense suffering. Stouthearted and courageous throughout this perilous voyage, Myers by his outstanding fortitude and self-sacrificing devotion to his fellow men, served as an inspiration to all prisoners on board and upheld the highest tradition of the United States Naval Service.
His military chapter closed, Myers began rebuilding his personal life. As happened to many of the POWs, the girl he had left behind feared him dead, and married someone else. Myers met another woman, married her soon after, and their family grew to include seven children. His interest in medicine had been piqued during the war. He became a chiropractor and built a practice in the Louisville area.
Myers’ spirit was willing, but like so many former POWs, his body had been weakened by years in Japanese prison camps. He developed bronchial difficul
ties one damp Kentucky winter, and the problem grew worse each year. Finally, in 1959, he packed up his family and moved to the sunshine and dry air of Phoenix, Arizona.
Although surrounded by his own family as well as those of his brothers Ken and Orville, Myers’ physical problems continued. He suffered one heart attack and then two more, finally developing lung cancer. On September 12, 1973, Estel Myers died after suffering his fourth heart attack. He was fifty-three years old.
Friends and family alike marveled that despite the horrors he had experienced, he never complained about his lot in life. They remembered him having a ready smile, always being willing to help out a fellow human being. Myers wasn’t a hero or a celebrity; he was more than that. He was a good man, one of the thousands who, between 1941 and 1945, made unfathomable personal sacrifices for a good cause.
After Myers’ death, a letter surfaced that he had written to his children several months earlier. In it he listed what he felt would help them live happy and successful lives—things undoubtedly learned from his own life’s experiences:
Believe with all your heart in God, country and family. Be truthful. Be loving, patient and forgiving with your spouses and children. Give an honest day’s work in whatever you do. Believe in the Golden Rule. Be loyal and honest to your country; be a good American and thankful that you are one. I love you all. Remember papa.
Gallery
LEFT: Estel Myers in 1922, at twenty months of age. (Courtesy of the Myers family) RIGHT: The Myers children, 1929. From left to right: Estel, Orville, Iola, Ken, and Bert Jr. (Courtesy of the Myers family)
LEFT: The Myers family, 1937. Estel, age seventeen, is on the far left. (Courtesy of the Myers family) RIGHT: Estel and his dog, Pos, taken in 1941 just prior to Estel’s being shipped off to Shanghai. (Courtesy of the Myers family)
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