|
Post by pdh54 on Aug 4, 2012 10:30:49 GMT 8
Hi everyone,
Found a new, very interesting book.
It is written by Staff Sergeant Jerome B. Leek in 1947. He was formerly with the Headquarters Battery, 60th CAC (AA) on Corregidor from the summer of 1941 til the end. He was a POW, at least at the end of the war, at Cabanatuan.
He writes about the day to day things that happened to him. I have not finished the book yet.
In a little while I am going to post his description of Corregidor as he arrives there,........but
John Eakin there is a snippet that you will probably find interesting.
The set up for this is that Leek, after volunteering to go over to Bataan to drive trucks, etc. to help, had just escaped from Bataan on April 9 by floating across the water to Corregidor on a bamboo pole in the company of two Filipina nurses. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ page 163
That afternoon I decided to run up to the battery to see what had happened while I was gone. As I walked into the Engineer's Tunnel or Middleside Tunnel, where the battery orderly room was now located, everyone just stared at me. Strangely, I wondered at their amazement. Finally, Sgt. Glaab asked, "Is that you, Leek?" I replied, "Yes, why? What the hell is the matter with everybody anyway? God almighty, you guys act like you saw a ghost." The First Sergeant answered,"We buried you about a week ago." I gasped, "You what?" His reply was, "I said, 'we buried you a week ago'." I asked, "Where am I buried?" Then he told me the story. The battery was shelled by the Nips one afternoon from Batangas. One of the shells lit in the first platoon's room, and came through the day room and kitchen below, exploding. Several fellows were wounded and a couple were killed; one of the fellows was identified as me. He was badly mangled, but various survivors of the ordeal said the dead man was me. So he was buried in the cemetery near Kindley Field, with my name on the cross, marking the grave. When he had finished, I answered, "Gosh, I wasn't even on Corregidor that day."
Then I told him of my requesting Capt Norton for Bataan duty - the trip across with Ensign Johnson, of the Navy, of the dinners I had coming in the states, of the your Lieutenant and private in the tent the morning the ammunition dump went up, of wrecking the truck, and of the two native nurses. When I finished, the First Sergeant growled, "Well, I'll be damned. Who in the hell did we bury at Kindley Field?" I answered, "The unknown soldier , I guess." ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
So the next questions are - Who was really buried at Kindley Field? Can we even figure it out today? Does Sgt Leek have a Death Card filled out for him? How could the dead soldier's absence not be noticed by someone in his unit or group?
Patty
|
|
|
Post by JohnEakin on Aug 4, 2012 21:56:26 GMT 8
Yes, very interesting, but not surprising.
In going through the X-files on unidentified remains I can understand how someone could die, say along the DM, and not be identified at war's end 4 years later. But so many cases are real forehead slappers - one has to ask how they could NOT know the identity.
Having been a young GI, I mean no disrespect, but just imagine putting a bunch of kids in charge of an ugly job they weren't trained for and really didn't want to do and you can kind of understand why there are 9,000 WWII remains worldwide. 3,744 of them are buried in Manila.
And while DoD advertises that they spend $100 million a year recovering remains from all wars using the latest DNA identification techniques, you can also understand why they don't want to open the Pandora's Box that is the unknowns. Lots of dirty laundry in there.
|
|
|
Post by pdh54 on Aug 4, 2012 22:36:31 GMT 8
But wouldn't someone have done something about the mis ID at the time?
Or were things just so crazy that week in May
|
|
|
Post by pdh54 on Aug 5, 2012 13:05:22 GMT 8
Corregidor GI by Jerome B. Leek 1947
page 205
A couple of night later, two young Americans were executed along the west boundary of the camp. Their 'crime' was that they had received some food through the prison fence from some loyal Filipinos. As the Americans were caught, the natives ran across the rice paddies west as Japanese guards fired in vain. The execution took place in plain view of everyone in camp. Immediately after the execution, Lt. (Henry) Lee came in our barracks, sat down, and wrote the following, which is a very good description of the horrible ordeal.
An Execution
Red in the eastern sun, before he died, We saw his glittering hair; his arms were tied. There by his lonely form, ugly and grim, We saw an open grave waiting for him. We watched him from our fence, in silent throng, Each with the fervent prayer, 'God, make him strong!' They offered him a smoke; he'd not have that; Then at his killer's feet, coldly he spat. He faced the leaden hail; his eyes were bare; We saw the tropic rays glint in his hair. What matter he stood facing the gun? We saw a nation's pride there in the sun.
I remember Lt. Lee changing the last line several times before he left it as printed. Other version of the last line include: 'We saw the nation's pride die in the sun.', and We saw a nation's pride fall in the sun.' Finally he asked, "Why isn't it all right to write, 'WE saw a nation's pride there in the sun'?"
Page 211
The following poem, written by Lt. Henry G. Lee, very well depicts the men of Cabanatuan and their thoughts:
'PRISON CAMP REVERIE'
The right or wrong we cannot judge or know, We only see that here a few must pay A bitter penance, living day by day, Watching the years unfold, unused and slow. We only feel our fingers wax and wane, To suit the whim that guides our captor's hate. We only see the palsied hand of fate Grope blindly in the tangled threads of pain And leave this man untouched and that man dead. We only feel the dream fade at the test, The spirit quenched, the youth starved in the breast, The heart grown calloused and the once proud head Bowed low beneath the captor's iron hand. We only know our candle gleam of hope Glows in the darkness where our minds must grope, Lost and forsaken, through a strange gray land. My country - oh, my country - well we know, Each one a soldier trained, that sacrifice Is war itself, and someone must pay its price To cultivate the fields where victories grow. And we are sacrificed - perhaps to gain That little time that warded off defeat In those first awful months of swift retreat. If that be true, dare we begrudge our pain? And yet we talk in fear, for we can see Clear-eyed across the path the years have flown, Your failings and your sins which were your own, Your selfishness, your smug complacency, Your foolish bickering, your selfish lusts To fain your ends while others pay the price. The cautious hand that will not throw the dice 'Til they are loaded, and the foolish rust In each new demi-god who takes your mind And shapes it to his own false dream of gain. Your inability to see the pain, The bitterness, the suffering you find In your own life is only magnified In other lives around the wailing earth. You who regarded the accident of birth Not Humbly, but with boastful pride. And, still, we have out faith; faith in our might, Slow to arouse and still more slowly cooled. If faith moves mountains then our faith is tooled In each bright new weapon in our far flung fight, Our faith is echoed in the smudge dark sky That clouds your roaring cities; in the grains Of each ripe golden shock of prairie wheat; Our faith in the blood of weary men Who take the coral beaches again. For we have seen their brothers in defeat, For we have seen their brothers meet their end, Unsuccored on a jungled foreign shore; Nor did they question if their lives meant more Than that small plot of ground they must defend. My country - oh, my country - well we know That final victory will be your part, But, bitterness claws at the waiting heart, And, still the years go by, unused and slow.
Page 235
Lt. Lee handed me five poems he had written during his internment, 'An Execution', 'To the Philippine Scouts', 'Regretion', 'Vindication', and 'Under the Southern Cross'. I asked, "Sir, why are you giving me the poems?" He answered, "Leek, your chances are much better than mine. I know that if the Yanks ever get here, you will be here; you have consistently refused to give up. I am sure you will not now. If you make it, please convey these poems either to my mother or my father, Mr. or Mrs. Thomas R. Lee. The live at 1230 Milan Avenue, South Pasadena. Tell them you knew Henry in the islands; they will make you more than welcome. They are the grandest parents any boy could ever have hoped to have." Taking the poems, I said, "God willing, I will sure carry out your request. Probably, when I get there, if I do , I will find you already there." The young officer answered, "No Leek, I'm afraid the chips are down on me. But I am prepared, I am not afraid to die."
In the following excerpt, Leek in on board a ship on his way back to the States.
Page 264
As we sailed along the first afternoon out, Cooney and I sat in the big deck chair, gazing across the water and talking. Suddenly he asked, "Did you see the death list in Leyte?" I asked, "What death list are you talking about?" "The one with all the officers from Cabanatuan." I asked, "What officers? I didn't see any list. Where did it come from? How did the Americans get ahold of the list?" He replied, "Well, to answer your last question first. I guess the Nips gave the Americans the list somehow or other. Anyway, there was a lot of officers we knew: Col. Barr, Brady, Mitchell, Warner, MacNair, Peoples, Mack; Majors Bosworth, Glassburn, Julian, Somerville; Capts Wilcox, Darcy, O'Toole, Scrivenor, Smith, Rosenstock, Baldwin, Ames, Amos, Norton, O'Brien, Sccecina, Tiffany, McDonald, Curran, Carberry, Cleveland, Childers, Mussel; Lts. Ford, Swain, Roth and others, including the two Navy chaplains, Trump and Quinn.â" I asked, "You didn't see Lt. Lee's name on it? He left when they did." He answered, "Yes, his name was on it. And another you knew. Lt. Evans." I thought a minute, then I remarked, "Floyd, isn't that hell? If anything ever was, that is hell. Just think of those fellows, the finest bunch of officers ever together at any one time. And they are all dead. Man, there was genius among those men. Lt. Col. Mitchell, for instance. One of the most brilliant and refined men I ever knew, or ever expect to meet. And Lt. Lee; he must have really come from some swell parents. Which reminds me, when he left, he gave me five poems he had written, hoping that some day I would be able to deliver them to his parents in South Pasadena. In the mad confusion when the Rangers came in, I lost two of them, but I still have the other three. How true the words of one were when he wrote it, especially now. Want to hear it?' "Yes, what is the name of it?"
'Under the Southern Cross' Here it is; -
'Westward we came, across the dancing waves, Westward to this outpost of our country's might Romantic land of brilliant tropic light Our land - - of bitter memories, and of graves, Under the Southern Cross.
Gaily we came, filled with the spirit of youth. Gaily we came, never fearing the thunderhead. Not knowing our hopes were lost - our dreams were dead, Until the sullen guns taught us the truth, Under the Southern Cross.
EASTWARD WE GO, AND HOME -- SO FEW, SO FEW, Wrapt in the tropic clay, our comrades sleep; The memories of this land are branded deep, And deeper still is lost the youth we knew, Under the Southern Cross.
"Isn't that a masterpiece." Cooney, sat thinking. Then he answered, "Gee, he sure put a lot of truth in a few words."
|
|
|
Post by pdh54 on Aug 18, 2012 23:27:17 GMT 8
Corregidor GI by Jerome B. Leek 1948 Highland Press
page 118 Chapter XI
This morning at breakfast, O'Toole, Gibbs, Broskowski, McKee, Parks, I and several of us sat eating peacefully, happily, listening as usual to one of O'Toole's boyhood experiences in the Bronx.
Suddenly, Seymour and Hansen rushed in excitedly, wildly exclaiming, "Hey, guys, the Japs bombed Pearl Harbor last night!" That statement seemed so far beyond our comprehension that it seemed like a weird fairytale. O'Toole continued with his big story, "Seymour, sit down and get something to eat. Your nerves are getting away from you." Seymour, a husky, fat young fellow, reddened in the face as he answered, "Dammit, O'Toole, it is the truth, the Japs bombed Pearl Harbor last night." O'Toole replied, "Seymour, we are men not boys. Boys like to hear fairy stories, ghost stories, and the like. Why not save your bologna for little boys?" Hansen spoke up, "O'Toole, it is the truth. We got it on the radios last night. It was Sunday night in Pearl Harbor our time; Sunday morning there." The New York Irishman laughed, as he waved his hand at Hansen, saying, "And you are as batty as old Seymour, here." Seymour answered, "Come on Hansen, let's eat at another table, to hell with him. You guys always want the news every morning, we give it to you. Then you say we are crazy, nuts, atty. To hell with you, we'll never give you any more news." O'Toole walked over and put his arm around Seymour, saying, teasing, "Willard, won't you please eat breakfast with us. We ain't sore at each other. However, I do think some radio announcer last night must have been drunk." As Seymour joined us at breakfast, the topic of conversation was the pros and cons of the fantastic news. Most everyone agreed that they couldn't possibly have struck Pearl Harbor. After all, our Hawaiian department was our supposedly strongest army of defense. There were four or five Infantry Regiments, four or five Coast Artillery regiments, to say nothing of the Army Air Corps and huge navy installations there. Surely, they did not hit Pearl Harbor; if the did, surely it was a slaughter of slant eyes.
As we sat debating the debacle, Sgt. Cooney, The Mess Sergeant, shouted, "Attention" As everyone started looking for the entrance, at the same time starting to rise, Captain Waid standing just inside the entrance, met our glance. The Captain, looking very serious and tired spoke, "At ease, men. Men, the Japs bombed Pearl Harbor last night. In the next few hours, a state of war will exist between our country and Japan. This morning everybody will remain at the battery until further notice."...........
..........All the officers were in conference in our battery: Col. Theodore Chase, the regimental commander, Lt. Col. Elvin Barr, Adjutant, Majors Thomas K MacNair and Gwinn U. Porter, Capts. Albert Wilcox, Albert Darcy, Arthur Waid, Richard Ivy, Willis Screivenor, and John O'Toole, and Second Lt. Jack Taylor.
Corporal Weingartner appeared in the squad room. He was saying, "Hey, guys, fall out in front. The old man has some orders to read" As we started out, Gibbs said, jokingly, "Take your gun with you. This is war. We might have to kill some Japs before we get back."
In formation, in from of the barracks, everybody stood silently, waiting to hear what the Captain had to say. Then he began, by first reading the special orders, which detailed many men from the battery for indefinite periods, SOME FOREVER. After reading the orders, he handed the papers to First Sgt. Sietler, and started speaking, extemporaneously, "Men, undoubtedly in a few hours, or possibly a few minutes, a state of war will exist between our country and Japan. Undoubtedly, in the crucial days, weeks, and months ahead we will be forced to face trying moments, moments of suspense and of agony. Our regiment bares an excellent war record, from past conflicts, It is my hope, the conduct of you men in battle will uphold the fine traditions of the Coast Artillery. Today we face facts, we are at war. Some of you will be in battle before others. Some of you will be killed, others will die from wounds and disease. But, when we lose a buddy, we must not pause, but push on. Fight like a man, and always be a sport, whether your are up or down. Fight to win, but fight clean. I would never want it said that an artillery man, and especially one of the 60th, did not always follow the rules of humanity and fair play. Men, our cause is in the right, surely God will guide us, and sometime we will hold our own little reunion on the docks in San Francisco. Until then, good luck, men, and may God less you."
It was a silent, sober faced group of men who retired to the squad room to start fathering up belongings, preparatory to moving. O'Toole was being sent to Batangas province, on a 'walkie talkie', along with Frank Bartus, Gibbs was being sent to C Battery, 60th , high atop the veritable powder keg of Morrison Hill, Bradley and Broskowski were both sent to the Corregidor light house as observers, Gallagher was sent to Bataan peninsula on a 'walkie talkie', Nelson went to Cavite province with a 'walkie talkie', Pulaski, McKee and I remained in the motor pool. However 'Red' Patoile and I were both detached to Battery Smith (F-59th) for rations and quarters. The reason for our detachment to this twelve inch gun battery, was so our trucks would be available to that battery, for transportation, in the case of emergency beach defense.
Other men remaining with the motor pool included, James Mock, David Kimball, Fred Troy, Guy Fealy, Clarence Miller, Walter Miller, Leslie Schultz, Milan Chorak, John Nichols, William Glaab, John Snellin, and Strother Nicely, besides Patoile, McKee, Pulaski and me.
About ten o'clock that morning, I stopped at Battery Way, to see Jobb and attempt to learn if there was any new 'dope'. Turning to me with his head 'phones on, he whispered, "right now it is hotter than hell at Clark Field." I whispered, "the Nips bombing Clark Field" He answered. "Yes, and from the reports, it sounds bad." I thought, 'Clark Field, just about one hundred miles away! Boy, our number is about up'.
Shortly after lunch, the air raid warning siren sounded. 'Trigger happy' men, manning the anti-aircraft guns, immediately 'got on' their weapons. Everyone was scanning the skies for enemy airmen, each hoping his gun would 'bag' the first Nip. Explosions were heard in the distance, as they vibrated against the Rock. Our navy yard at Cavite, across the bay, was receiving the brunt of the slant eyes' attack. The explosions continued with increasing ferocity. What would Sangley Point, where the navy yard and naval hospital, Canacao, look like after all this?
In the mid-afternoon the air warning siren was again sounded. As yet the guns of the Rock had not fired, as during the morning bombing of Cavite, the Nips had kept out of range of Corregidor. From high in the south-eastern skies, the deathly drone of 'Maytag washing machines' – could be heard approaching. Closer and closer they came. Men waited at the guns, nervously, 'itching' for the first shot, the first Nip, for enemy blood. Then the anti-aircraft guns started 'pumping' lead. There was D Battery,60th, out on Kindley Field, H Battery, 60th, at Battery Ramsey, C Battery on the Rock's hot spot , Morrison Hill, B Battery at Topside near Battery Wheeler, (C, 59th's position), and F Battery out in 'no man's land' at Topside. These were all 60th batteries. G, 60th, was across the north channel, on the Bataan peninsula. I Battery, 59th, was on its stationary three inch guns at Fort Hughes, and A Battery, Philippine Army was ready at Battery Morrison with its three inch stationary guns. The noise was terrific, ear splitting. The planes flew high, not releasing their loads. Anti-aircraft bursts could be viewed, exploding, spraying their shrapnel among the high flying Nips. One of the four planes seemed to be losing altitude. Yes, the other three were slowly pulling away from the apparently crippled plane. Now, the lead three were pulling away from their comrade, much faster now. Then the tail plane started gliding down, down. He was smoking profusely now. Slowly he came down, down. Then faster. Now he was just simply falling, tumbling! His final resting place was in the China Sea, between Corregidor's Monja Point and Mariveles, on the Bataan peninsula. Corregidor had scored! Some battery, or batteries, had been fairly successful in their first big moment. Eventually D Battery, 60th, received the credit for the first plane.
|
|
|
Post by pdh54 on Aug 25, 2012 10:18:41 GMT 8
Corregidor GI Jerome B Leek (Picking up close to where I left off on the previous entry:)
Page 124 The Sergeant came back first. As he stood by the truck, looking over its contents, I said, "Congratulations Sergeant, on your battery bagging the first Nip" He turned, growling, "Congratulations, hell. If we hadn't a had a whole raft of recruits on the guns, we'd a got them all. But that is the way it is. What the hell have we out here anyway? Nothing -- not a d**n thing. What the hell we going to do if we get a gun knocked out? The ordnance ain't got a d**n thing to fix anything with. Ain't their fault, it's them d**n dumb politicians in Washington arguing there won't be war, when the handwriting on the wall says otherwise, and actually so d**n dumb you sometimes wonder if they don't believe it themselves. That's what they are doing while we sit out here and rot. Sure we'll give them yellow bellies hell. They'll pay plenty for these islands. An American can fight like a bastard when he gets mad, and boy, everyone out here is going to be plenty mad one of these days when he comes to the realization he is out on a limb out here. That is the price we must pay for our citizen population tolerating certain hypocrites, in sheep's clothing, in Washington. Now I know I shouldn't talk like this, but d**n it, it is the truth, and it makes me so d**n mad every time I think about it. What the hell have you in that truck, anyway" "Rations" "Oh, yes, those kids will be here in a minute. They been cleaning up the guns. Just kids, most of them. They ought to be home, going to school. But, no, they are out here doing a man's job. Here they come now." That was Dewey Brady. He knew then we were fighting a losing battle, but each day, until death, his superior courage and leadership gave his men the spirit to fight on against an entire nation. A couple of days later the first Nip prisoners were brought to Corregidor, to be quartered in the Middleside guardhouse; their rations were alternated daily among the various batteries. Approximately thirty of them had been posing as innocent fishermen in Manila Bay, surrounding Corregidor. Japanese planes continued bombing Manila and Cavite regularly. Practically every night Navy men from Cavite would come to Corregidor for supplies and equipment. The enemy bombings had depleted their stores...................... .............Manila's port area was practically wiped out. The Army and Navy Y in Manila had received a direct hit, killing thirty-eight civilian girls, who were employed there. Manila was continually bombed, wantonly and brutally, regardless of whether or not military installations were in he immediate area. Cavite was receiving the same thing. The Navy Yard had been thoroughly leveled. The Navy hospital, although plainly marked, had been destroyed.......................... ..............The Manila Tribune, and other sources, brought news of the fighting in the North. We had lost many of our fine young airmen, among whom was Colin Kelly. News came that south of Lingayen Gulf we had lost the biggest portion of the 192nd Tank Battalion, a national guard regiment that had recently arrived from the states. (They were composed of National Guard companies from Illinois, Wisconsin, Ohio, and Kentucky). This meant only one thing; the Japanese ground troops were pushing towards Manila. Clark Field was evacuated; we had suffered terribly there, losing many planes and men. The situation looked bad. Japanese ground troops were constantly pushing south. The Navy yard at Cavite was a thing of the past. Manila was in ruins. Our air force consisted of five or six P-40 planes, and two old 'blue geese', P-35's. And a whole nation was pushing against us, while ours apparently did nothing. On Corregidor, December 23rd was the last day on which three meals were served, and the last day many Americans ate three American meals in one day. When I use the term 'meals', I am referring to good old army 'chow' not Japanese rice and radish leaves................. (According to Leek's time line this next entry is for December 27).................The next day Sgt. Starr told Fealy, Troy, Kimball and me that we would to to the North Mine Dock to wait until boats loaded with personnel from Manila came in. Then we would report to General MacArthur when he stepped on the Rock. After that, we would drive the General and is family, and other military personnel to their proper destination. I was indeed nervous over 'having to face' the General; I had heard so many reports and rumors about him. Tense, quiet, and nervous, we four waited on the Docks, as the little inter-island ship approached. The native captain glided his little ship into the docks, expertly. It was packed with army personnel -- refugees from Manila. The gangplank was thrown down. In the gathering darkness, General Douglas MacArthur, very erect, walked onto Corregidor's north mine dock. We four privates stood at attention, saluting the Army's number one soldier. The General returned our salutes as he said, looking at me, on the extreme end, "Men, this is war, forget the military courtesy. In other words, forget the saluting. We have much more important things on our minds" As Mrs. MacArthur, a diminutive lady, came forward, followed by an elderly Chinese amah (nurse) and their only child, little Arthur, the General asked of me, "Soldier, you are driving us?" "Yes Sir," as I showed them to the Sedan As we were driving towards the General's quarters Mrs. MacArthur leaned over from the back seat, asking, "Soldier, what is your name?" I replied, "Leek, ma'm. L-e-e-k." She answered immediately, "Oh, I know that. I heard you report to my husband. I mean your first name, your nickname. What do all your friends call you?" I answered, "Ma'm, my given name is Jerome, but I am commonly know as Jerry" Her rapid fire answer was, "Well you are Jerry to me from now on" (I always was. Many times in the dark days we witnessed together, I delivered foodstuffs to their quarters. The General's wife, who was Miss Jean Faircloth of Murfreesboro, Tenn., before her marriage, had a lovely personality. Many times I thanked God that our cause was led by the fine couple, who so well exemplified the democracy we were striving to preserve -- General and Mrs. MacArthur.) (I didn't realize Mrs. MacArthur was from just down the road from us here in Mount Juliet TN)
The word 'damn' was changed automatically when I pasted this entry here.
|
|
|
Post by okla on Aug 26, 2012 3:34:26 GMT 8
Hey Patty....Your narrative mentioned Captain Colin Kelly being among the airmen lost in the early fighting in December of 1941. I have posted somewhere, earlier, the fact that at one time the OIC in charge of the Ops/Intelligence section where I was assigned was Colin Kelly's roommate at Westpoint. This officer was "only" 38 years of age and a full Bird Colonel with not a little of time in grade. Approx six or seven years later, after my Discharge from the military, while viewing one of JFK's briefing sessions i.e., the Berlin crisis on TV, I see my former section Commander standing immediately behind John Kennedy, sporting the stars of a Brigadier General. Wonder what Colin Kelly might have been by that time??? Just thought you might find this little tidbit interesting. Cheers. Postscript....I note that Chad has been an infrequent "poster" of late. Hope his health,etc is passing muster.
|
|
|
Post by pdh54 on Aug 26, 2012 7:07:24 GMT 8
Okla, you always add such interesting bits of info....Thanks......You can keep reposting observations even though you made them before. Remember a bunch of us are new to the site and haven't seen those posts before, and they add to the current thread you are posting on so........keep it up! I like them. Patty PS Chad is fine. he's just been working a lot and the few days he has off, the grass has been growing wildly so he's had lots of yard work. Not much down time lately.
|
|
|
Post by pdh54 on Sept 6, 2012 11:21:24 GMT 8
Corregidor GI Sgt Jerome B. Leek
page 129
At eleven o'clock, the morning of December 29th, I was driving a Dodge truck, heavily loaded with food supplies, from cold storage in Bottomside. Two Filipino civilians rode on the truck to unload the rations at the various batteries. The air raid warning siren sounded. One of the natives called, “Air raid, Joe. Many Japanese planes, Joe. We take cover, Joe.” I called back. “To hell with them. We ain't taking cover.” The Filipino screamed, “But Joe, many Japanese planes, Joe.” I continued driving. The truck was making so much noise, grinding its way up the long grade to Middleside that I could not determine just where the raiders were until the terrific deafening explosion at Middleside.
My first stop was at the Engineer's mess, just a few yards short of Middleside. A bomb came screaming down, to strike the front part of the building, blowing over half it away. I drove by the wrecked building to the rear, which was a mass of shattered, burning timbers and piles of cement blocks. I always heard lightening never strikes twice in the same place, so I felt perfectly safe here. Just then, an American civilian engineer, a man about fifty years of age, came stumbling through the mass of wreckage. He was bleeding profusely. My first thought was to get him in the truck, and drive like mad for the hospital. As I left the truck and rushed toward him, he fell in a heap. I felt for his pulse. His chest and stomach were badly torn and cut, his eyes bore a chalk like glaze, the pulse beat was gone. He was dead, dead when he was walking. I thought to myself, 'Those god damn yellow slant eyed bastards,' as I started back toward the truck. Then I remembered something of the Christian principles taught me by my mother in childhood. Returning to the still warm body, I knelt down, making the sign of the cross. Then I repeated,
'Acknowledge, O Lord, Thy creature not made by strange gods, but by Thee the only living and true God; for there is no other God beside Thee, and none that doeth according to Thy works. Make glad his soul, O Lord, with Thy presence, and remember not his old sins and excesses which wrath or heat of evil desire may have aroused. For although he hath sinned, he hath not denied the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost, but hath believed, and hath a zeal for God, and hath faithfully adored the Creator of all things. May the heavens be opened to him. May the Angels rejoice with him. Into Thy kingdom, O Lord, receive Thy servant. May St. Michael, the Archangel of God, prince of the heavenly hosts, receive him. May the Holy Angels of God come forth to meet him, and conduct him to the heavenly Jerusalem. May the blessed Peter the Apostle, to whom were given the keys of the kingdom of heaven, receive him. May St. Paul the Apostle, who was counted worthy to be a vessel of election, receive him. May St. John, the chosen Apostle of God, to whom were revealed the secrets of heaven, intercede for him. May all the holy Apostles, to whom the Lord gave the power of binding and loosing , pray for him. May all the Saints and Elect of God, who, in this world, suffered torments for the name of Christ, intercede for him, that loosed from the bonds of flesh, he may attain unto the glory of the heavenly kingdom, through the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Into Thy hands, O lord, I commend his spirit. O Lord, Jesus Christ, receive his spirit. Holy Mary, pray for him, Holy Mary, Mother of Grace, Mother of Mercy, do thou defend him from the enemy, and receive him at the hour of his death. Come to his assistance, ye Saint of God, come forth to meet him, ye Angels of the Lord, receiving his soul, offering it in the sight of the Most High.'
Making the sign of the cross again, I arose and walked back to my truck. That was my first experience with sudden, violent death, but it was a long ways from being my last............
….........................Corregidor was now receiving its baptism of fire and destruction. Bombs were fairly raining on the Rock, each coming with its deathly, sickly, weird, screaming, whistling noise. Rocks, dirt, gravel, splinters, grass, everything was flying through the air now. Each bomb came with a drone which made you think surely your number was on it.
A huge roll of black smoke appeared east of us, in the Kindley Field area. D and M batteries of the 60th must be catching hell out there. One of our largest oil dumps had been hit. Then I realized how a mouse feels when caught in a trap, as Sgt Strobing stated to the world on May 6, 1942.
The nearby machine guns of Capt. Smith's A Battery were rapidly and constantly beating out a challenge to the yellow marauders...........
….......About three o'clock that afternoon, the enemy gave us a brief respite to the terrific pounding. Then the Harbor Defenses of Manila and Subic Bays surveyed the extent of the first bif scale bombing. The station hospital was in ruins, although it had borne a huge cross on the roof, plainly marking it as a hospital. Battery Way, the 60th's communications center, was a mass of wreckage. An ordnance ammunition warehouse, at Topside, which contained one million rounds of thirty calibre ammunition was erased. The oil dump at Kingley Field was gone. Bombs had torn away several pipes, releasing several thousand gallons of drinking water, highly valuable stuff in that hell hole. Among the personnel who lost their lives this day were Willard Seymour (China Grove, North Carolina) and Willard Hansen (Lansing Michigan), both of Headquarters, the tow fellows who had brought their battery the first word of Pearl Harbor.
That night radio station KFEQ, San Francisco, broadcast to the world that Corregidor was under a slight air raid that day in which no damage was done. But we on that forsaken place knew better as we watched over the empty bay, watched for ships that couldn't come in.
|
|
|
Post by pdh54 on Sept 6, 2012 11:25:33 GMT 8
I think Sgt Leek is a wee bit disgusted with the response of the US Gov to their predicament.
More of the 'Europe" first thinking or were we just not logistically able to do anything for these men?
Patty
|
|