THE ORANGE PLAN (WPO III)
Dee. 23, 1941 (my wedding anniversary): Finally, orders arrived from
USAFFE Headquarters in Manila: "ORANGE PLAN III IS NOW IN EFFECT!
EVACUATE CAMP JOHN HAY! PROCEED TO JOIN FIL-AMERICAN FORCES IN BATAAN!
MACARTHUR".
The Japanese forces controlled both roads leading from Baguio to
Bataan. The only available exits from Baguio were over rugged
mountains, some a mile high. The nearest road leading to Bataan that
still might be open was through Balete Pass, fifty miles to the
southeast.
I worried about feeding my medical detachment (two Army nurses and
thirty enlisted personnel) following along behind the companies of the
43rd Infantry of Scouts. I told Col. Horan that I would like my
detachment to be the "point" that would lead the way through to
Bataan. To my surprise, he seemed pleased and agreed. I told him, "I'm
ready to move out!" He answered,
"OK!"
Our medics quickly mounted hospital transportation and drove down the
southeast road into the valley, past the entrance to the Antomoc Gold
Mine and on to the end of the pavement. As we abandoned our vehicles,
we disabled them so the Japanese would be unable to use them. We then
placed our first-aid materials and my little medical bag on litters,
and started up the trail at a rather rapid pace. In the hot sun we
soon became exhausted and realized we would have to go slower and rest
frequently.
About three hours up the trail, we came upon Associated Press
Correspondent Clark Lee trudging along. Resting with him on the path
for a few minutes, we swapped stories; he reported: "Lingayen city has
been bombed! Many Filipinos are fleeing south through the central
plains with all their belongings. I came up to Baguio yesterday;
soldiers had dynamite boxes ready to blow the bridges on the
Naguillian Trail. I saw Major Ganahl and asked him what happened to
our North Luzon Forces. Joe answered, 'Hell! We are the North Luzon
Forces!"
We never saw Clark Lee again, but later learned that he found a
short-cut through St. Nicholas and Tayug to the central plain, where
he had a brush with the Japs on his way to Bataan. He proved an old
saying, "He travels fastest who travels alone!" He later wrote a very
interesting book about his experiences in the Philippines, "They Call
It Pacific."
Our two nurses were having difficulty keeping up with the troops on
the steep and often narrow trails. Our equipment was becoming too
heavy to carry; little by little, it fell by the wayside: litters, gas
masks, helmets, pup tents, tarps, blankets, mosquito nets, etc. As we
moved up the mountains, we noticed natives using mirrors to signal
planes. We didn't know whether they were trying to blind the pilots or
wave them away. Two more fatiguing hours and we reached the large
Lusod Saw Mill, operated' by the American Jorgensen family.
A soldier came running up the path; he shouted, "Col. Horan has had a
heart attack!" Back down the trail I went for about an hour, when I
found the colonel in agony beside the path. A quarter of morphine, a
swallow of whiskey and an hour's rest revived him enough to continue.
The Jorgensen family were gracious hosts; they had apparently been
stocking up on food for several months, getting ready for this day.
They shared their Christmas dinner with us-our last warm meal.
Because the mountains were so rugged, we decided that tile nurses
should remain with the Jorgensens to share their fate, along with
several American miners' wives, who were joining them-to sit out the
war.
The Jorgensens still had telephone service to their friends in Baguio.
From them, we learned that many of the Japanese civilian prisoners,
whom we had interned at Camp John Hay, when liberated by the
Japanese-army, were putting on uniforms, private to colonel, and
joining the occupying forces. The invading army had government money,
already printed, when they arrived. When the Jap soldiers presented
their "play" money to the Filipinos in order to buy food, the natives
laughed and said, "No good in this country!" They soon learned that it
was backed up by the full faith of the Japanese bayonet. There were
many tales of Japanese treachery.
Yet, the Japs pretended to be friendly to the Filipino. They would
say, "Look the color of our skin is the same! We promise
you early liberation from the Americans, and in the near future, we
give your country independence." The Japs turned their hospitality and
hostility on and off like a faucet.
The Japs insisted that the natives take off their big straw hats and
bow deeply each time they encountered a Japanese soldier. This was not
the Filipinos' idea of independence and freedom. They'd had it much
better with the Americans. We later learned that in most every barrio,
especially in Mindanao, a Japanese store owner put on a uniform, when
liberated, and took charge of the barrio.
Christmas evening, we were informed that Manila had been declared an
"open city." U.S. troops were actively moving toward Bataan and
Corregidor. We also heard that seven thousand Jap forces had made a
landing at Lamon Bay, east of Manila. Major General George Parker's
South Luzon Forces were opposing the landing. It was estimated that
the Japanese had an invasion force of more than 150,000 men in the
Philippines. Rumors were that "Help is on the Way."
Dec. 26, 1941: Telling the Jorgensens and their lady guests, "Many
thanks, and the best of luck," we hit the mountain trail, climbing
steep paths to high passes and then sliding down the other side. At
night we slept near streams and awakened soaked with dew. After
several hours of sunshine we would dry out. We quickly learned of some
new inconveniences: ants, spiders, tics, mosquitoes, and sunburn. We
were invited to sleep in native huts, but the smoke from their open
fires was so strong-burning our eyes-that we had to move outside.
In three days we had reached a small village in the valley, Aritao.
Overhead a Japanese plane was observing our activities. We decided to
push on to Balete Pass, where we located a quaint hotel nestled in the
mountains. Here we could get food and lodging. Up to this time we had
been paying for any services received, but now with the money running
low, we realized we'd have to exist on the mercy of the natives.
In the hotel we met the American owner of the Red Line Bus Co. of
Tuguegarao, who was taking his Filipino family to Manila in a big open
truck filled with his belongings. He had room for ten soldiers.
Dec. 29, 1941: Early in the morning, our group, sitting amid the
baggage in the back of the Red Line truck, was cruising down the
highway toward San Jose. A car with a Jap flag on top passed us going
north.
Shortly, the Jap car was back minus the Japanese flag on top. It came
to a screeching halt as our truck had the road blocked. For a few
seconds the Japs and our medics just stared at each other probably
expecting gunfire. Nothing happened! My unarmed medics had the Japs
surrounded! I had my .45 pistol, but knew if I reached for it, we'd
all be mowed down. Stepping forward, I motioned the Jap car into the
ditch and around the truck. They accepted the escape route; in a big
hurry, they were roaring down the road.
We thanked the Red Line Bus family for the lift and instructed them,
"Turn around and get back up in the mountains. Best of luck!"
My medics and I climbed down a steep bank to the east, crossed over a
wide, rocky, river bottom keeping our ten paces between men-and
entered a thick jungle. Within ten minutes, several Japanese tanks
rumbled to a stop on the road, where our truck had been parked, turned
their machine guns toward the jungles and sprayed the area. Bellies to
the earth, we waited and prayed as the bullets slashed through the
forests. We continued to hug the ground for several hours until we
were sure the Japs had departed.
We moved deeper into the dense jungle, up an old trail. Suddenly, we
could hear crackling footsteps all around us we were surrounded! We
froze! I reached for my .45, hoping to get one of them before they got
us. Thirty pairs of eyes were focused on us. Large monkeys! As
startled as we were, they scampered off, chattering to themselves. I
examined my .45; the clip was gone; there was just one bullet left-the
one in the chamber. I would save that for myself if things got really
bad.
We continued on up the trail to the top of a mountain, where we could
get a good view of the central plain below. San Jose was in flames.
Across the valley, Clark Field was burning fiercely; two large columns
of dense black smoke from oil fires. There were also fires at
Cabanatuan, Manila and Cavite.
General Wainwright's withdrawing North Luzon Forces had blown many
bridges on their way south to Bataan. It was very evident that the
enemy occupied most of the central plain-and was apparently harassing
the natives. Many of the Filipino homes were in flames.
Toward evening, we sent a disguised medic back down the trail to find
a Filipino home and make some arrangements to get
food for the remnants of our detachment-five. We never saw the other
medics again.
We could hear the big guns booming on Bataan and Corregidor, 125 miles
to the south. We located a hunter's lean-to and camped there for
several days. We grew accustomed to the many strange noises in the
jungles: birds, monkeys and many other animals, but were having
trouble with the ants, spiders and mosquitoes. Camping in the tropics
was quite different from camping in the States. In the Philippines
every square inch of soil has its menagerie of insects. One of the
things I feared the most was being eaten to death if I should be
unlucky enough to be wounded.
Each night I thanked God for sparing my life. Our American medic, Al
Roholt, carried a pocket New Testament. Within several days each of us
had read through it.
We quickly learned that we couldn't eke out an existence in the
jungle. There was too much competition. The birds and animals were
extremely mobile and agile, getting to any available food much quicker
than we could.
The Japanese cavalry and infantry were making daily trips up and down
the highway. They entered houses along the road and slapped the
Filipinos, demanding, "Where are the Americans?" The natives remained
loyal and gave them no information.
Peeking through the bushes at the Jap units going by, I began to
wonder why and how studying medicine had gotten me into such a mess.
We had plenty of time to just sit and reflect: We knew the Japanese
had designs on U.S., British, French, and Dutch possessions in
Southeast Asia. We knew the War Plan Rainbow 5-assumed the Philippines
were defensible. We knew the Philippines were not scheduled for any
reinforcements, and that its early loss was expected both in the U.S.
and in Japan.
It had become quite obvious that the Japs had made landings wherever
they chose, and were proceeding to Bataan with very little resistance.
We knew that Gen. MacArthur had from 12,000 to 15,000 American troops
and about the same number of well-trained Philippine Scouts (P.S.),
but the remaining 100,000 Philippine Army (P.A.) troops had less than
three months training, and their weapons were for the most part
obsolete (World War I vintage).
We had lost much of our aggressive power before the U.S. (Congress)
declared war on Japan. We hoped that most of our
troops could get through to Bataan. We could hear the big guns
rumbling on Bataan; we hoped they were ours, not the Japanese.
The Japanese cavalry continued to move up and down the highway every
day-keeping it open for their purposes. Each squadron of cavalry had
several Filipina girls following along on horseback. Natives told us,
"Those young girls were seized from their homes along the highway by
the Japanese." Then the Filipino families moved their homes back into
the jungles from evacuation camps.
The Red Line Bus family sent a guide down from the mountains to lead
us to their camp. As soon as it became dark, the five of us started to
work our way north, up the rocky river bottom, I in my shoes wrapped
in gunny sacks, the soles being completely worn out.
In several hours we were in their evacuation camp. They seemed happy
to see us and we were delighted to see them. They lived in a large,
open shed in a camp containing one-hundred Filipino families. They
were quite well situated beside a small river; they had dug a well in
the river bank for their drinking water. They had their own flock of
chickens. We were lucky-we ate well for a few days. They had a small
radio, capable of getting news from Corregidor and San Francisco. From
it we learned that the Japs occupied Manila.
Gen. Wainwright's troops were pouring into Bataan from the north, and
Gen. Parker's, from the south. They were trying to establish a
defensive line across the base of the peninsula. The Japs were putting
out much propaganda such as "Asia for Asiatics" (which really meant
"Asia for the Japanese"); and "The Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity
Sphere."
We began to hear new terminology from Bataan, such as SNAFU (Situation
Normal, All Fouled Up!). There seemed to have been many snafus. Our
pilots had received many planes from the States prior to the war that
needed Prestone in order to fly. Nowhere in the Philippines could they
find any Prestone. Some pilots had to fly planes that had Swedish
instruments. Four out of five hand grenades were failing to explode.
There was only one rammer rod for fifty-four tanks.
The evacuation camp teniente (town lieutenant) kept me busy every day,
visiting the sick in camp. My medicines were rapidly being consumed.
I finally located an old, smooth tire; I cut the rubber in the
shape of the soles of my boots, and patiently sewed them to the
uppers; my boots were now good for another hundred miles.
The news from Bataan was bleak: "Front line troops were having
difficulty getting any food. The rations had been cut in half because
of the thousands of refugee Filipinos fleeing to Bataan along with the
troops. Many soldiers were becoming so weak they could hardly hold
their rifles. Hospitals I and II were filled with sick and wounded.
On Jan. 26, 1942 a communiqué from San Francisco was received on the
radio: "The first American convoy carrying U.S. troops has finally
arrived safely in Ireland." We in the Philippines were being
completely abandoned. However, it seemed that England would now be
able to fight to the "last American!'"
Arrangements were being made by the teniente for a group of Filipinos
to go over the mountain to the east of us, to hunt and get food for
the camp. I was asked to go along. We started early the next morning.
At each little village we would come to, the teniente called out in a
loud voice: "Ahhhhhh-Pooooooo! Ahhhhhh-Poooooo!" letting the natives
know we were friendly.
By evening we had reached the next valley, where I was informed it was
the place where Pres. Theodore Roosevelt and Governor General Leonard
Wood had hunted many years before.
I remembered that Gen. Wood had visited our high school, Dr. Nicholas
Senn H.S., in Chicago in 1920 and talked to our ROTC classes. I was
greatly impressed. Gen. Wood was a doctor (Harvard), who had won the
Medal of Honor riding in Roosevelt's Rough Riders in Cuba. He then
became Gov. Gen of Cuba at the turn of the century and helped Major
Walter Reed conduct his great research, leading to the control of
yellow fever. Later he became the only American medical officer to
ever become the Chief of Staff of the U.S. Army. I'll never forget how
he limped into the auditorium. Rumor had it that he had a wooden leg.
The Filipinos built a fire and soon had our evening meal ready.
As we ate, we could hear deer barking in the mountains, sounding like
a dog barking. I had never before known that deer made any kind of a
noise. As night approached and a full moon appeared over the
mountains, each Filipino selected a suitable cobble stone for use as a
pillow. I was satisfied with my small bundle of clothing.
Next morning we were up early, and in several hours had bagged a deer
and two wild boars. In the afternoon we hiked
several miles to the southeast to a river near Carranglan, where the
teniente threw in a stick or dynamite to stun the fish. Then we all
jumped in to capture several of the stunned fish. Each time I came up
from a surface dive, all of the Filipinos were laughing.
I asked the teniente, "What is so funny?" He replied, "It is your
butt, sir! None of us had ever seen a white butt before, sir!" I was
pleased to hear their laughter and was soon laughing myself. None of
us had had much to laugh at during the last couple months.
The cargadors (baggage carriers) had quite a struggle carrying the
game and fish on their backs over the mountain. I was amazed at their
strength and endurance, hour after hour.
We could hear the rumbling of the big guns on Bataan like distant
thunder. The evening radio reported a heavy artillery duel; also that
MacArthur had received an ultimatum from Gen. Homma, "Gen. MacArthur,
you are doomed! I order you to surrender!"
The next day we learned from Filipinos coming down from the north that
"Guerrilla groups are forming in the Cagayan Valley!"
Again we thanked the Red Line Bus Co. family for their hospitality and
courtesies. Traveling at night, because the Japanese occupied the
roads during the day, we were able to reach a small detachment of
soldiers guarding Balete Pass. We spent several hours, learning about
the troops at Bambang, Bayombong, Bagabag, and Jones.
The following day we made the long, hot and dusty hike to Bambang,
where we found a platoon of soldiers; they had destroyed several large
bridges across the Magat River to keep the Japanese cavalry from
making their daily excursions. The soldiers informed us that Major
Warner was the C.O. of the Guerrillas. Warner and I had to make a
survey of Camp Hay after the first bombing, looking for "duds" (bombs
that didn't go off). We found one dud that had brass fins on it made
out of an old T Ford radiator. We could still see the Ford imprint on
it."
After a good night's rest in a real bed, and a native breakfast, we
were off to Bagabag and Jones on the old dilapidated truck that must
have had 300,000 miles on it. We were soon passing through rice and
tobacco fields in the fertile Cagayan Valley.