A burned baby, and a Corregidor veteran's story
Mar 19, 2024 13:59:14 GMT 8
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EXO, Karl Welteke, and 1 more like this
Post by Hounddog on Mar 19, 2024 13:59:14 GMT 8
It was 1984 or 1985, and I was probably 7 years old. Some friends had invited us to join them on a hike somewhere in Antipolo, to see a Japanese tunnel. It was either an old existing tunnel, or a newly discovered one, (I get older memories mixed up sometimes.) I definitely have a fragmented memory of visiting a Japanese tunnel after it was newly discovered in a road widening project, and we were told that during that opening, a crate of rifles had been found, and turned in to the Philippine military. Anyway, on the way to whatever our destination was, we stumbled onto what I didn't understand then but now know to be a crime scene. A woman had burned a baby. We saw the remains of it in the charred ground. I don't remember if the baby was alive or dead before it was burned, and I also don't remember all the details of the situation, but my faint memory, after someone explained it to our group is that the mother of this newborn baby didn't want it, so she killed it and burned the body. Or, she was insane and burned the baby alive. Either way by the time we got there she had already been arrested or taken away. Was it only hours before? Days before? This being the Philippines, the crime scene wasn't closed off yet and the human remains were in full view. It was terrifying as a young boy seeing this horrific scene, and learning that someone could do such a thing to an innocent baby. The memory stayed with me a long time, the sight of the bones and ashes, the smell of burned earth, the sickening thought of a child being burned to death.
Yet this memory later ended up helping me gain perspective on something important about the retaking of Corregidor Island in 1945. The human toll. At a church, somewhere in Vancouver Washington in 1993-1994, my dad introduced me to a man who had fought on Corregidor Island. Perhaps he had been a member of the 503rd? Unfortunately I don't remember. I was an awkward 17 year old at the time and sadly didn't ask him any detailed, mature questions. I remember excitedly blurting out something like "You were on Corregidor? That's so cool! I've been there, hiking and exploring, it's such an amazing place! What was it like when you were there?"
The man paused a moment before quietly replying "...well, we used a lot of flame throwers back then..." And right in that moment something clicked in the sensible section of my teenaged brain. I remembered the burned baby from a decade before. The grotesque remains of a charred human being. The ashes, the smell. The idea that someone could burn another human being alive. And then I got quiet, and just muttered "...oh." My memory breaks down after that. How I wish I would have asked this man his name, his unit, or just a single insightful question! I also regret not letting him know that Corregidor today is a peaceful place, lush green, solemn and quiet, far from the moonscape hell it must have been in 1945. But I believe I understood, in my own way, in that moment, a small fraction of what this man had experienced with the destruction of the Japanese on Corregidor. Flamethrowers and white phosphorus burned the enemy alive, or flushed them out from caves and foxholes, sometimes on fire, only to be gunned down with bullets, which was actually more humane than letting them burn to death. And this process likely repeated, again and again, for weeks. The American troops likely did their best to dehumanize the enemy, for their own sanity and to help them perform the job that needed to be done, but what a toll that must have taken on them. I was absolutely shaken by the sight of a burned baby as a child. Imagine seeing those Japanese soldiers, their bodies and clothing on fire? Hearing their screams? It must been horrific. In retrospect I feel so foolish for casually asking this man 'What was it like?' on Corregidor.
Yet this memory later ended up helping me gain perspective on something important about the retaking of Corregidor Island in 1945. The human toll. At a church, somewhere in Vancouver Washington in 1993-1994, my dad introduced me to a man who had fought on Corregidor Island. Perhaps he had been a member of the 503rd? Unfortunately I don't remember. I was an awkward 17 year old at the time and sadly didn't ask him any detailed, mature questions. I remember excitedly blurting out something like "You were on Corregidor? That's so cool! I've been there, hiking and exploring, it's such an amazing place! What was it like when you were there?"
The man paused a moment before quietly replying "...well, we used a lot of flame throwers back then..." And right in that moment something clicked in the sensible section of my teenaged brain. I remembered the burned baby from a decade before. The grotesque remains of a charred human being. The ashes, the smell. The idea that someone could burn another human being alive. And then I got quiet, and just muttered "...oh." My memory breaks down after that. How I wish I would have asked this man his name, his unit, or just a single insightful question! I also regret not letting him know that Corregidor today is a peaceful place, lush green, solemn and quiet, far from the moonscape hell it must have been in 1945. But I believe I understood, in my own way, in that moment, a small fraction of what this man had experienced with the destruction of the Japanese on Corregidor. Flamethrowers and white phosphorus burned the enemy alive, or flushed them out from caves and foxholes, sometimes on fire, only to be gunned down with bullets, which was actually more humane than letting them burn to death. And this process likely repeated, again and again, for weeks. The American troops likely did their best to dehumanize the enemy, for their own sanity and to help them perform the job that needed to be done, but what a toll that must have taken on them. I was absolutely shaken by the sight of a burned baby as a child. Imagine seeing those Japanese soldiers, their bodies and clothing on fire? Hearing their screams? It must been horrific. In retrospect I feel so foolish for casually asking this man 'What was it like?' on Corregidor.