Post by chadhill on Sept 17, 2010 8:02:39 GMT 8
In June 1986, while based at NAS Cubi Point, a fellow squadron mate and I sailed out of Subic Bay at sunrise one morning in a zodiac. The zodiac was a small rubber raft with an outboard motor on the back, and it could only make a few knots. Our destination: Quinauan Point, more than twenty miles down the western coastline of Bataan.
Bataan was a home then to the NPA, the New People's Army, and the communist group was not on the friendliest of terms with US military personnel. Our commanding officer probably wouldn't have allowed us to make the trip, so we didn't ask. Our nervous wives agreed on the condition that we return by sundown, or they would notify the Squadron Duty Officer that we were overdue, who would then notify the CO. A real career-ender, if you can guess. But we accepted the terms.
The trip to Quinauan took five hours, longer than we had figured. In fact, on the return leg we were so low on gasoline that we had to refuel in Bagac. The endless Bataan coastline was so irregular that I doubt I could have found Quinauan in those pre-GPS days had I not previously flown over it and photographed landmarks. It was very easy to see how the Japanese in 1942 could have become so disoriented, and lost, along the coast at night.
The trip to Quinauan had unfortunately taken so long that we agreed we could stay no longer than one hour, in order to meet our return deadline. We anchored the zodiac at the prominent NW point on Quinauan. My friend Keith dove underwater to look for fish and shells, while I hurried south down the beach to try and find a way to climb up the cliffs to the top.
A few hundred yards down the beach I came across a statue that resembled a solemn, meditating Japanese angel. I thought of the Japanese soldiers that had jumped off the cliffs 50-75 above my head, and of the scores of bodies found on this beach. As I continued on, I kept looking up the cliffs, searching for the caves that the Japanese had made their last stands in. But the angle was so steep and there was so much growth I couldn't see any.
About halfway down the western side of the point I found a way to climb the cliffs to the top. On top, there was none of the jungle that the wartime accounts spoke of, only a few trees, bushes and tall grass. Fortunately, I was there at the end of the dry season or the grass might have been over my head.
Regrettably, I only had about 15-20 minutes left to spend probing around on top of Quinauan Point. I walked inland about 100 yards or so, and then turned to head back up to the prominent NW point where Keith and the zodiac were. Along the way I found a few crude, rusted metal bar objects that I did not recognize. I did not see any foxholes, but there were a couple of washed out places that might possibly have been the 40 foot trenches some accounts mention. Too bad there was not time to walk further inland.
As we sailed away, I noticed a strange looking area in the cliffs on the western side of Quinauan Point. It is hard to describe, but the area looked like it may have been a collapsed, concreted-over or plastered-over cave opening.
Here are some prints I have lifted from the VHS camcorder I carried that day. Sorry about the quality, but I thought it might be worth sharing here.
P.S.--Yep, we made it back by sundown...
Bataan was a home then to the NPA, the New People's Army, and the communist group was not on the friendliest of terms with US military personnel. Our commanding officer probably wouldn't have allowed us to make the trip, so we didn't ask. Our nervous wives agreed on the condition that we return by sundown, or they would notify the Squadron Duty Officer that we were overdue, who would then notify the CO. A real career-ender, if you can guess. But we accepted the terms.
The trip to Quinauan took five hours, longer than we had figured. In fact, on the return leg we were so low on gasoline that we had to refuel in Bagac. The endless Bataan coastline was so irregular that I doubt I could have found Quinauan in those pre-GPS days had I not previously flown over it and photographed landmarks. It was very easy to see how the Japanese in 1942 could have become so disoriented, and lost, along the coast at night.
The trip to Quinauan had unfortunately taken so long that we agreed we could stay no longer than one hour, in order to meet our return deadline. We anchored the zodiac at the prominent NW point on Quinauan. My friend Keith dove underwater to look for fish and shells, while I hurried south down the beach to try and find a way to climb up the cliffs to the top.
A few hundred yards down the beach I came across a statue that resembled a solemn, meditating Japanese angel. I thought of the Japanese soldiers that had jumped off the cliffs 50-75 above my head, and of the scores of bodies found on this beach. As I continued on, I kept looking up the cliffs, searching for the caves that the Japanese had made their last stands in. But the angle was so steep and there was so much growth I couldn't see any.
About halfway down the western side of the point I found a way to climb the cliffs to the top. On top, there was none of the jungle that the wartime accounts spoke of, only a few trees, bushes and tall grass. Fortunately, I was there at the end of the dry season or the grass might have been over my head.
Regrettably, I only had about 15-20 minutes left to spend probing around on top of Quinauan Point. I walked inland about 100 yards or so, and then turned to head back up to the prominent NW point where Keith and the zodiac were. Along the way I found a few crude, rusted metal bar objects that I did not recognize. I did not see any foxholes, but there were a couple of washed out places that might possibly have been the 40 foot trenches some accounts mention. Too bad there was not time to walk further inland.
As we sailed away, I noticed a strange looking area in the cliffs on the western side of Quinauan Point. It is hard to describe, but the area looked like it may have been a collapsed, concreted-over or plastered-over cave opening.
Here are some prints I have lifted from the VHS camcorder I carried that day. Sorry about the quality, but I thought it might be worth sharing here.
P.S.--Yep, we made it back by sundown...