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Post by fots2 on Aug 1, 2012 13:21:10 GMT 8
okla, I was wondering about that too. They had already been through a lot and did not know what they were soon in for. That would be more than a little depressing I would think. We can read history all we want but can only imagine what individual guys and gals were feeling.
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Post by The Phantom on Aug 3, 2012 5:49:24 GMT 8
good shot fots. At first I thought the patients sitting by the wall were on the concrete wall that is there partially today, but on closer examination you can see they are all in chairs of some sort. At least 2 guys standing in the entrance way are in pajamas, another has his shoes tied and hanging over his shoulder. Sandbags on the street, maybe to spread on the tar to get to the mess area across the street without picking up shoe fulls of tar?
I see camouflage above the entrance against the wall. All certainly speaks to the author's description.
The flat area that was a mess area then, across the road today has a series of unmarked concrete structures 3 ft. wide and 5 ft high, that used to hold information about President Quezon.
There was a statue of him there. The statue of President Quezon and the statue of the Filipina that was once on a hill at the crossroads leading to east Malinta tunnel entrance, and to the road on the north side of Malinta going past this hospital entrance, was also moved to the Philippine Monument below Water Tank Hill and Battery Denver.
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Post by The Phantom on Aug 3, 2012 6:21:33 GMT 8
" In spite of it's hazards, the hospital outlet provided the only recreation for many of those on the Rock.
And the relaxation was never complete since one had to keep an ear cocked for the sound of planes, and to be ready to make a quick dash to the tunnel.
These quick dashes were nearly as terrifying as the bombs. For the entrance to the tunnel was narrow, and was made even narrower but piles of sandbags around which one had to turn sharply to get inside.
One had also to remember that, once inside, there was a reserve generator to be avoided, marked, "KEEP OFF--DANGER--2000 VOLTS". ( Fots, another Generator to note in the tunnel complex.)
Packed together in a crowd and pushed along without volition, one lost all power of independent action.
Guards shouted, "Take It Easy!" to the people who were still trying to get in, and "Keep Moving ", to those already inside, but it was still an unpleasant experience, particularly for the convalescent soldiers on crutches.
In time we all became used to these dashes for the tunnel.
There was one day, though, when a 500 lb bomb landed just 20 yards beyond the opening.
Bursting on the hill opposite, it made a gigantic crater, stripped all the surrounding trees of foliage, and caused a concussion of air that rocked the people in the tunnels and laterals.
This bomb got the lighting system and plunged the tunnel into an inky darkness.
It sounded to us as if the bomb had landed right at the entrance to the outlet.
There were no outward signs of panic, but the general feeling of being trapped was almost tangible. " Get into the laterals! Lie down on the floor, and take it easy!" came the strong confident command.
Down the main corridor through the obedient crowd, and lighting their way by flashlight, the panting stretcher bearers hurried their burdens to the surgical lateral."
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Post by The Phantom on Aug 17, 2012 6:00:48 GMT 8
" There were times when it seemed that the covered figures who were brought in on stretchers were better off than we were: they seemed to at least have found rest and peace.
The bearers brought one soldier past, his blond head lying face down on the stretcher. Both of his legs had been blown off at the calf, and the bones showed white and sharp like sticks. He made no sound.
The speed of readjustment after each raid was amazing. Instantly the work of repairmen began and of preparing for the next visitation. The wounded were cared for, food prepared, debris cleared, electric wire restrung. In an almost unbelievably short period of time it was almost as if there had been no raid.
The destruction of Battery Geary was barely mentioned, although of course everyone knew about it. If the bomb that had demolished it had made a direct hit the shelter could have withstood the blow, for it had been built with that contingency in view. But the bomb hit at the edge, and the whole shelter collapsed on the men inside. It was all the worse for us to think that the hit had been a fluke.
On The day after our first bombardment, the 30th of December, President Quezon was inaugurated for his second term. The inauguration was broadcast as taking place on "unoccupied territory".
That unoccupied territory was the clearest space at Malinta tunnel on Corregidor. And since the ceremony was so simple, so informal, it had an emotional depth that such occasions often lack.
The benches and tables had been moved to one side of the Officers mess.
( As previously described by Mrs Willoughby, this means the ceremony took place at the EAST entrance to Malinta Tunnel, where the Officers mess was located.)
" A canvas awning and tree branches sheltered us from the sun;rough planking leveled and hid the trampled earth.
Before a few benches and chairs arranged in neat rows, there was a plain wooden table at which sat the High Commissioner, General Mac Arthur, vice president Osmena, and chief Justice Jose Santos.
At one side stood a small portable organ. The sober gathering was ringed with Filipino and American soldiers standing erect and silent.
President Quezon raised his arm and accepted the responsibility of the presidency for it's unpredictable future.
We were to busy to pay any attention the next day to it being New Year's Eve until the evening. Mrs Sayre had brought with her from Manila a fruit cake that had come all the way from Georgia. Our celebration took place long before midnight. It had to because all lights were to be extinguished and all conversation to cease by 10:00 P.M.
In the Mess Hall we gathered around our table under the glaring lights and each of us had a morsel of the cake and a sip of ginger ale out of one of the last bottles on the Rock.
The festivities over we wondered out of the mouth of the tunnel for a breath of fresh air. The men were grouped around the portable organ joking and singing. The mellow air stirred a little and the laughter of the men was healing to hear.
The soldier at the organ was good.
He wandered pleasantly from old favorites to some of the broad Army parodies, and then switched imperceptibly to "God Bless America".
Here and there a voice joined in. Then more and more voices until the sheer volume made you shiver. None of us had ever heard that song sung like that.
It was 1942."
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Post by The Phantom on Aug 23, 2012 5:54:50 GMT 8
The food okla..............Rusty Nail in hand.........
" Breakfast and dinner bore a close resemblance to each other. At the beginning we had eggs and butter, and dishes made with eggs. That didn't last long. Butter occasionally appeared in lieu of jam. Sometimes there was neither.
Raisins were popular with the Army. They were our only fruit and were served stewed and still hot on account of the ants.
Then there were the Army canned rations, one can of which is supposed to give a soldier everything he needs for health. Made of a meat base, it contained cereal, soy bean, and cod liver oil, and looked a lot like dog food.
We had dried coconut shredded almost to a fine powder. Like pickles on an American tables, the coconut reposed in a dish ready to be eaten at any time and sprinkled on anything.
On Dec. 7th an inter-island steamer loaded with dehydrated coconut en route from Fritz Worchester's drying plant in Zamboanga was to be transferring it's cargo to a ship in Manila for the U.S.
With the opening of hostilities no trace of the ship and cargo, representing an investment of many thousands of dollars, could be found. Dean C. Worcester had arrived on Corregidor at the last possible minute in December. But within a day or two he could guess what had happened to his shipment of coconut.
There was so much of it on the island that the power plant where the chilled meat was kept was "sandbagged" with dozens of sacks of dessicated coconut.
The portions of food on the Rock was designed for active soldiers, and not for comparatively inactive women. But I was always a little hungry.
Breakfast was served at 7:00 AM and dinner at 4:00 PM. By 2:30 or 3:00 PM one had a distressingly empty feeling in the stomach. But by dinner time appetite seemed to have vanished completely.
it was then a matter of duty to do something with the gargantuan plate of rice, canned sauerkraut, and weenies that was slapped down under our noises. The thought of the time lapse between meals usually led one to eat more than was normally comfortable.
Our seats were stools that swung out from the tables lining one side of the mess lateral. To pass by the convalescents who were seated at the first half dozen tables was enough to take away ones desire for food. In the harsh light their faces were gaunt and woebegone, and they looked touchingly young in the shapeless hospital pajamas. The leg cases stood their crutches behind them against the wall.
the Quezon's, the doctors and nurses, and ourselves occupied the remaining tables.
For me that mess lateral was associated with more tortured noise than any other single aspect of the siege. The boys who collected the men's dishes and cups in to the little carts did it with a great clanging and banging. The scraps were dumped into huge repulsive looking kettles. cutlery and dishes of food were shoved and pushed the length of the tables.
Monster fans were to keep the air in circulation, but it was invaribly hot and smelly in the lateral. and to be able to be heard over the whirling of the fans we almost had to shout."
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Post by sherwino on Aug 23, 2012 15:14:37 GMT 8
They were lucky with those stuff than those who were in Bataan ration.
My grandpa used to tell me that oftentimes they had to content themselves with rice and and a few drops of spent cooking oil during the hostilities.
But I guess the overall situation makes one lose his/her appetite even if the rations were the current MREs.
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Post by The Phantom on Aug 24, 2012 2:20:06 GMT 8
Your so right about the differences in food stuffs from Bataan and Corregidor Sherwino.
Before Bataan fell even more foodstuff was moved over to Corregidor.
Not to mention the issues that came to light when food sent from Corregidor to its soldiers serving on Bataan, was discovered on trucks by regular troops serving on Bataan...........when compared to their subsistence levels, it was a buffet not seen on Bataan for months.
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Post by The Phantom on Aug 24, 2012 2:53:28 GMT 8
Sherwino, her next statement speaks to your comment.
" We were alive and we were being fed--well fed. We thought of the men in their fox holes on Bataan and we ate up our rice gratefully."
"Knowing everything that went on, Mrs Quezon was the source of most of our information.
She told the story of Filipino store keeper in Miramonte.
Miramonte faces the South China sea near San Fernando, La Union. Here was a resort, Long Beach, and the proprietor also ran a small store, and had among other supplies, a stock of whiskey.
This Filipino was a man of resource and enterprise who was not stampeded by the knowledge that the Japanese were closing in, and that they might at any minute bang on his door. He remembered how fond the Japanese are of Whiskey.
Instead of pouring the stuff on the ground as many people were doing to keep it out of the hands of the enemy, he took each bottle off the shelf and poured off a small quantity.
From his stock of medicines and drugs he selected a bottle of LYSOL, carefully adding a little to the contents of each bottle of whiskey, re-corked the bottles, and set them neatly back on the shelf.
Then he fled."
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Post by The Phantom on Aug 24, 2012 3:43:53 GMT 8
' We heard somewhere that there was a stockade full of Japanese prisoners doing the laundry. We were loudly critical of their labor, as sheets were a muddy beige color with assorted tears and deeper tan spots.
We knew the prisoners would not have been allowed to dry anything outside. Jan White was the only one to have anything good to say about the sheets stating that they had almost got the blood stains out.
Eventually we had to revise our ideas about the Stockade and the laundry. It turns out that there were no Japanese in the Stockade: they were Koreans, who had been brought to the Philippines by the Japanese to help "colonize."
However, as soon as the Japanese gave them arms, the Koreans deserted to the American side.
From Bataan they had been brought to the Rock, and they were supposed to make themselves useful by doing the washing."
( The first I heard of Koreans on Corregidor in 1942. One can only guess their treatment after the surrender........)
"Then during one of the raids, the Japanese got the water tank on Topside, which made life much more difficult.
It put an end to laundry and showers, and even drinking water became so brackish even coffee couldn't hide the taste.
We were allowed one glass of water for morning ablutions and an occasional bowlful at night.
Now to the heat of the tropics and the humidity of the tunnel, we had added the discomfort of living in sweat soaked clothes. Various skin troubles appeared, especially prickly heat.
With yearning we gazed at the sparking blue green water lapping at the tiny beaches of Corregidor. We begged persistently to be allowed to go swimming. But in all but one place, there were mountains of barbed wire to negotiate.
Also the shark nets had been broken, so we would have had to stay in the shallows or risk attack from sharks, barracudas, and sting rays.
On one entire flank of the island the water was covered with viscous black oil from bombed ships.
There was also the bombing and shelling to consider, since concussion is far worse in the water than in the air.
As if that was not enough there were the Marines. Every inch of shoreline was guarded against invasion by a thick belt of Marines.
And every moment when there was no raid and no other duty, some of them swam.
Naked and boisterous, they shouted and splashed, while every one of us envied them. Their presence put an end to any idea we had of taking a swim.
The great day came when another well was put into operation. We took showers, washed our hair, and did a little laundry too. The sudden general cleanliness gave rise to a number of jokes.
"Everyone knows that a starving man must not eat too much too quickly, nor a man dying of thirst drink his fill. Without due thought then, this poor fellow, stripped, turned the shower full on and stepped under.
He died of shock."
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Post by The Phantom on Aug 28, 2012 1:49:48 GMT 8
" Of all the branches of service on the Rock the Marines were the most reckless. One Marine uses to apply regularly for weekend leave. Bataan was the only place to leave to, so there he went, into the thickest, trickiest jungle, where snipers lay in wait for stranglers under cover of incredibly careful camouflage. But this Marine turned the tables on the Japs. After a weekend of picking off snipers he would return to Corregidor in high spirits. He seemed to regard these expeditions as the same kind of sport as squirrel hunting back in Kentucky."
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