" I WAS ON CORREGIDOR" BY AMEA WILLOUGHBY - 1943

[pdh54]

My kind of lady! ;D

[The Phantom]

Nice pictures of the hospital that is described in the book fots, trying to understand why they sent them into Malinta from the east entrance.
Perhaps the western entrance was receiving all the supplies being brought onto the island via the trolley system..........

How would the trolley get from the North Dock into west Malinta Tunnel? Around Skipper Hill going west to a switching location and switch gears and back into the Tunnel?
Don't think there could be any turning around unless they went to Topside.
No direct route to the tunnel from either South or North dock.

OK I pulled out the 1936 map for factual information as to how the trolley's could get their cargo into Western Malinta Entrance from both docks.

No direct route from either dock as I suspected.

Coming from South Dock they would have to switch over to the rails going up and around Skipper Hill by building # 284 (Storehouse and Art. cables), just below eastern side of Skipper Hill, on Bottom-side.

There are 2 sets of rails going around Skipper Hill.
There is a switching junction between these 2 tracks at the bottom of the hill just below #245, (NCO quarters) where the present day Hotel is located.
There is another switch between the 2 rail systems further up the hill, going west now, below and between buildings #244 and #242, (also NCO quarters on Skipper Hill's western end).

All rail lines coming from the North Docks can switch to either set of rails going around Skipper Hill at #284, (Storehouse and Art. cables).

[The Phantom]

Note in the picture with all the people how much cabling is going into the Hospital lateral.

What's all that for?

Is their water coming in under the floor?

The sewers also under the floor?

Yeah this lady really does give a realistic perspective of life in the tunnels that gives a different set of feelings as you walk though those whitewashed walls today.

[The Phantom]

More insight from Amea on life on Corregidor after her arrival on Christmas Eve, 1941.

" Christmas Day and our life on the Rock had both begun.

.......Corregidor is a rock, of course but is well wooded.

We arrived on the island at the end of the rainy season to find all the foliage lushly green.
But we soon learned that one of the greatest fears was of fire and the destruction of the protective camouflage afforded by the trees.
As week succeeded week without a drop of rain the green of the leaves faded to a drab olive green.
Dust eddied and whirled about eternally.

Each exploding bomb stripped the branches in a wide area around the crater it made, and the hidden guns stood out nakedly exposed.
Later on when the water supplies diminished, it was a nightmare to know that the entire island might be consumed by fire.


..................In peacetime the inhabitants of Barrio San Jose on Bottom-side had worked for the U.S. Army.

Sometime before war broke out all women and children had been taken off and access to the barrio's was strictly controlled as to the rest of the island.

All three levels had post exchange stores and were connected by twisting roads and paths.
Wherever you went, underground or on the surface, there was a tremendous paraphernalia of war, and, in huge storage vaults, incredible quantities of ammunition and supplies.

No space was wasted, every inch of Corregidor not occupied by some military target was crowded with human beings.
The majority of persons on the Rock were less lucky than we in that they didn't have the protection of the tunnels.
Kitchens, first-aid stations, and dormitories were set up under trees.

Underground, congestion was greater than on ground level.
From Malinta tunnel where we lived, the smaller laterals reached out like tentacles of and octopus, and subdivided into other laterals so bent and winding that it was no trick at all to get lost.

At first trucks drove through the tunnel with and alarming rumble
that was clearly audible in the laterals.
Later on when the shells were falling close to the north end (?)
traffic was diverted and piles of sandbags blocked both ends.
The tunnel was wide enough to accommodate 4 cars across when it was empty, but no one ever saw it that way.

At the east end, several tables and chairs clung to one side of the tunnel and these constituted the Officers Mess, with refrigerators and cook stoves backed against the opposite wall.

A forty foot beaver-board partition separated the officers mess
from the impromptu studio from which the Voice Of Freedom was broadcast daily.

For the rest of the tunnels 400 ft. length, the tunnel was lined on both sides with stacked crates of food, ammunition, and medical supplies.

NOTE: "FOR AWHILE, A GIANT POMPOM GUN WHICH THE NAVY HAD SALVAGED AND GIVEN TO THE ARMY, REPOSED NEAR THE WEST ENTRANCE..........."
(It ended up where?)

"Before it was set up on the hill directly above Malinta tunnel."

During raids the entire tunnel was a mass of sweating humans.
All day and all night exhausted men slept in relays, hunched up on packing cases or portable cots, under slits of eerie but supposedly healthful blue light."

[chadhill]

Interesting! I see that Mrs. Willoughby noticed the 1.1 inch pom-pom gun. There has been some recent commentary and speculation about that gun on another forum (please forgive me, EXO) that may interest our members here. Scroll down about 20% to member Nelson's post: HOUSTON'S SEARCHLIGHTS AND QUAD 1.1 INCH AA and go on from there. There may be some evidence that the gun arrived at Corregidor via Mariveles instead of directly from Cavite, as has been widely thought:

www.network54.com/Forum/594514/thread/1320819381/De+Ruyter%27s+Illumination+Capabilities

[The Phantom]

It's hard to tell the date Mrs. Willoughby saw the 'gigantic Pom Pom gun' in the western end of Malinta, maybe it's presence there was why they entered Malinta from the eastern end........

The comments were interesting reading Chad. I would assume a North Dock arrival based on the location of a crane big enough to take the pom pom off it's transport.

It must have been interesting getting them in place on top of Malinta based on their final resting place.
..........................................................

" The laterals which sprung from the main body of the tunnel, under low archways were marked variously-----'Subsistence,' 'Harbor Defense, 'Communications,' 'Hospital,' and so forth.

We lived in the hospital lateral, which was about 1/3 the diameter of the main tunnel.
From it, still other numbered laterals were labeled 'Surgical,' 'Dental,' 'Clerical,' and 'Dispensary.'

Metal screens draped with sheets partially hide the activity in these laterals from the general traffic passing through the lateral.

In addition to the laterals given over to medical work, there was a mess lateral, and sleeping laterals for the doctors and nurses, and ourselves.

The hundred- yard length of the main hospital corridor was broken by 2 slight bends.

All the available wall space between the laterals which was not filled by parallel rows of double Decker beds was fully utilized: at one end by 2 barber chairs, which were invariably always occupied, a couple of storage shelf units for personnel belongs; then came a mimeograph machine and stacks of paper, the chaplains desk and his library of books for the men, filing cases and 2 refrigerators near the dispensary, cases of medical supplies and canned food.

It was not difficult to see above or through the chinks in the rusty metal screens which cut off the ladies laterals from the main Hospital Corridor.

And whatever one saw was a distinct contrast to the drab Hospital surroundings in which Khaki and gray dominated.
The ladies lateral was far from orderly, but it was definitely nonmilitary and cheery.

On the T-bar towering above the double-Decker beds, we hung coat hangers we had brought with us, and these were covered with slacks and dresses.
Over the head and foot rails we draped our underwear, laundry, and bath towels.

..............It was lucky we were not required to keep our belongings in footlockers under our beds like the men were.
But the result was that the ladies lateral looked like an oriental bazaar.

Through some laterals great fans fans sucked in fresh air and supposedly drew off the stale, but they were not always effective.
The tunnel had a heavy smell.

By the time the air reached our sleeping quarters it was a distinct blend of strong disinfectants, anesthetics of some sort or other, cooking and stale food, blood of the wounded, and much warm humidity, never quit clean.

At least twice a day cement floors were swept and mopped by the sanitary squad, who used a disinfectant so strong that it vanquished all other odors and brought tears to your eyes."

[The Phantom]

" At the hospital outlet (northern hospital tunnel entrance, still there today) there was a small level space though which a steep road ran up the hill to a patch of blue sky, and down hill to a glimpse of blue water.

Facing the outlet, directly ahead, another hill sheered up precipitously.
On this small plaza there was a lean-to kitchen well camouflaged with branches, and a mess for the hospital personnel and convalescents.

Chairs and benches were grouped along both sides of the road.

Here too was a RADIO.

All day long, between raids, and during most of the night, soldiers, convalescents, nurses, and Doctors forgathered here for a breath of fresh air and a smoke.

When KGEI from San Francisco or the Voice of Freedom were on the air, this bulge in the little road was so crowded that trucks coming down the hill could hardly get through.

Before sunrise cooks would be busy in the kitchen, the firelight touching their intent faces with an orange glow.
While the Filipino boys dished up their rations from enormous kettles the line of men would form up and stand patiently in the early light of dawn.

Groups of night nurses in twos and threes gathered there wearily to smoke a cigarette before going off duty.

In the full morning the rough mess tables and benches served the people who made the bandages and dressings.
Over the blaring noise of the RADIO, we would shout back and forth
at each other and at the passing soldiers and workmen.

Under a tree near by, hung a large canvas bag of drinking water.
Around it were always a band of men, pausing for a second before going on to their jobs.

If there was a measure of relaxation on the little road at the Hospital outlet, there was also more often than not a kaleidoscope
excitement in the hazards of the one way traffic.

Trucks, tractors, and cars of all kinds appeared at the top of the hill, slowed down as they drew level, and racketed down the rest of the decline, disappearing at a sharp bend at the bottom.

They were all veterans, lacking a fender or two, part or all of their tops, windows, and windshields.
They were punctured with machine gun bullets and shrapnel holes and crusted with dirt.

There was one giant tractor whose deafening noise we could recognize before it came into view on its monster treads, a funnel sticking up the back belching smoke.

The driver had bright red hair and looked to be 7 ft tall; his expression matched the forbidding appearance of the tractor.
We would watch it as it swung wide from the top of the road to the very edge, then at the last instance it would serve back again with a roar, barely missing the opposite back.

( Like the current tour buses!)

" It bore down on us and we made plenty of room.
that redheaded, scowling man was the only driver who didn't shoot a greeting as he passed.

In January Tar was poured on this stretch, from the curving top of the hill to the level outside our entrance.
The idea was to lay the dust.

But during the interval of the tarring of the road and sprinkling of the sand on top, the road, became one long skid.

When we collected at the tunnel mouth that day we refrained from sitting down, on the theory that it would be easier to jump to safety from a standing position.

Even the posting of a guard at the top of the hill to bring all cars to a dead stop helped very little.

Some of them did the whole stretch sideways, or they would bang into the bank and manage to stop dead before attempting the decent to the bottom.

Once two vehicles followed each other so closely that the first was stationary on the level when the other, a mammoth truck with 12 wheels, started down sideways.

To us who watched, it was a slow motion picture of an accident about to happen.
The truck driver sized up the situation and calmly turned into a skid, righting his vehicle.
Promptly the truck swung to far in the other direction.
I held my breath and waited for the crash.

Then, with split second timing, the truck passed the other car with not an extra coat of paint to spare and rumbled imperturbably down the hill.

Next came a truck load of Filipino's, five of them crowded next to the driver, while in the open back, 30 men stood tightly packed together.
We could see their expressions of fear when they first felt themselves sliding on the slippery roads.
They made no sound until the driver had regained control of the truck, when they burst into a babel of talk and laughter.

Then came a load of Marines in a battered Ford.
A brown and white pekinese sat proudly by the driver.
Slithering from side to side, with whoops, yells, and joyful profanity, they passed us and were out of sight.

One day when there was, incredibly, no bombing, no shelling, and no tar on the road, we heard shouts and tearing, crashing noises from all over the hill and we wondered, 'what now?'.

Suddenly, around the bend at the top, two runaway mules thundered, dragging behind them, a heavy garbage wagon.

Just in time they slew around the curve, and bore down on us with pounding hoofs, ears lad back,and eyeballs rolling.
We scattered fast.
The driver stood up like Ben Hur, impotently tugging and pulling at the rains.

BUMP, CRASH, BANG, and they were past.
We dashed to the center of the road and watched to see whether
they would make the curve at the bottom of the hill.

At the last moment the driver jumped clear.
But the 2 mules, followed by the wagon, and the garbage, sailed up and over the wall."

( Not the last time Enlisted Mans beach at that turn would see a load of garbage thanks to Manila's trash washing ashore there.)

[The Phantom]

I know someone who found a fork in the creek, below that flat area, by the hospital tunnel entrance.

Undoubtedly a fork from that hospital mess described above from all those years ago.
Good for him, lots of history in that fork.

That small flat location always does feel intriguing every time I visit.
Now even more so, with flying mules in the area..........

[fots2]

Phantom,

A photo to go with your text. Here is a look at the little flat area outside the North Hospital entrance taken April 13th, 1942.






Thanks for posting these excerpts.

[okla]

Hey Fots...April l3, 1942....Time, she is a-runnin' out on these poor folks, unless that last Submarine(s) or PBY(s) took some of them South. Bleak days, indeed.