In the fall of 1944, when MacArthur's forces were threatening to
retake the Philippines, the Japanese began to evacuate all healthy
prisoners of war to Japan, so that none could be liberated to assist
the invading army. The death of a prisoner by any means was considered
preferable to capture by the invading troops Japanese thinking).
"Hell Ships": The "hell ship" journey began at old Bilibid Prison.
December 13, 1944: Long before dawn, we were awakened by the ringing
of a large bell at the prison guardhouse. The day we had been dreading
for many months, had arrived; 1619 of us would depart from our
uncomfortable quarters and start a long journey to Japan. Thoughts of
riding on a prison ship filled us with apprehension; several prison
ships had already been sunk and many of our friends had been lost.
We lifted our emaciated bodies from the concrete floor, showered and
shaved in the dark; we didn't know when we might experience such
luxury again. We put our few worldly but worthless possessions into
our packs. Breakfast was the usual half-cup of lugao.
As the first light of day peeked over the high stone wall, we were
lined up with our baggage; we stood for hours as Col. Beecher, USMC,
our commanding officer, and a Japanese guard wandered through our
ranks-trying to get a head count. The guards, a rather ignorant group,
were completely puzzled by such a large number - 1619. Finally about
0800 hours, everything
seemed to be ready. Shouting and waving disabled prisoners filled the
windows and doors as our long line moved slowly through the gate and
dawn Rizal Avenue. When the line was about was quickly reversed and
hurried back into the prison: "Kura! Hully, Hully! Speeda! Speeda!"
We couldn't see any planes, but were kept in line far hours. Sweat
rolled freely dawn our faces and backs. Guards went among us, picking
up mosquito nets and tropical helmets: "Don't need in Japan!"
At 1100 hours, the long line moved slowly out the gate. Rizal Avenue
was crowded with saber, gaping Filipinas not the, happy-go-lucky ones
we had known before the war. Occasionally when hidden from guards,
they would give us a "V" sign. We dared not acknowledge it.
We could see "pity" on their faces as we passed dawn the streets, by
the Metropolitan Theater and over the Passig Bridge. The natives'
looked haggard and ragged. Most of them were on foot rather than
riding the usual caratellas or caramettas (pony carts). Many stores
were closed, boarded-up. Many homes showed signs of looting. Metal had
been removed from every available place-iron bars from windows,
manhole covers from streets taken to Japan far making armaments.
We went the long way through Luneta Park; we saw artillery and
anti-aircraft positions there and in the streets. It appeared that the
Nips would put up a good fight to retain the Philippines.
There were many ships in the bay-destroyers and cruisers as well as
transports. Same had been sunk; many were nearly submerged or listing
badly; yet others appeared to be unharmed.
Tugs and tenders moved briskly about the bay; derricks strained aver
damaged vessels. All in all, there was entirely too much activity far
a supposedly blockaded port!
There were many Japanese civilians, mostly women and children, milling
about Pier Seven. They were short and stocky, dark and expressionless.
Most of them were carrying cloth or straw bundles-their possessions.
They were being evacuated to Japan to avoid the battle far the
Philippines that everyone knew was coming.
As we arrived on the pier, we were divided into groups of one hundred
and ordered to "Sit dawn and stay in place!" The floor was filthy, but
the rest was welcome.
Oryoko Maru: By squirming around, I could read the name of
the ship, Oryoku Maru, on the bow painted over with gray as was the
whole ship. There was nothing to mark it as a ship carrying prisoners.
Winches were working rapidly, raising American-made appliances and
cars to the deck.
I discovered a water faucet nearby and eased over to it to fill my
canteen, only to be driven away by a jabbering guard. I was not
enthused about making a trip through MacArthur's blockade with an
empty canteen. However, I did get a good look at the ship. It was a
large, modern passenger liner with several big anti-aircraft guns on
the deck. The ship was not to be sunk without a good fight.
Pier Seven showed much evidence of heavy bombing, but was still
definitely usable. Just before dark, prisoners began to climb the
ladders to the deck. The aft hold was loaded first 719 prisoners.
Next, the forward hold with 718 prisoners.
Just as we, the remaining 182 prisoners were ordered into the second
hold (behind the forward hold), we were joined by seven additional
prisoners who had come from Fort McKinley, a few miles east of Manila.
Many others were on the way to join us, when their lead streetcar
conveniently left the tracks.
Our group, now 189, was composed mostly of medics and civilians. The
ship's cabins, dining rooms and parlors were crowded with several
thousand women, children and elderly Japanese civilians. We dropped
our packs into the hold and quickly descended the long ladder into
darkness hurried by the grunting guards and their "vitamin sticks."
There was not enough room for everyone to sit down. Our group of
medics crowded together in the center of the hold. The floor was
filthy, covered with horse manure. The stench burned our eyes; our
roof was the darkening sky. We were glad for its protection. The ship
was soon under way, moving smoothly and rapidly.
We were divided into groups of twenty. A representative of each group
was sent above to get small amounts of fish, rice and water. Our
latrine was a five-gallon can in the center of the hold; it was soon
filled.
Sleeping was difficult; we were awakened each time a neighbor would
move, because of cramps, numbed extremities or the urge to urinate.
December 14, 1945: Thursday - We were awakened at the first sign of
daylight. Three of us who had shared an interest in
a can of Spam saved for several weeks from a Red Cross package-debated
whether or not to eat it. We decided to save it for a suitable
emergency.
Our group representative went above to the kitchen for a bucket of
rice; he brought back bad news from the other holds which were more
crowded: "Some thirty prisoners had died from suffocation during the
night. Several, suffering from extreme thirst, had become crazed,
slashing and biting throats, arms and legs to 'suck' the blood. Some
men actually had to fight off their neighbors with a shoe or a club to
keep from getting murdered. Several frenzied prisoners tried to climb
the ladders and were immediately shot by the guards. Perhaps this was
a blessed relief from their tormentors."
Our representative also told us, "We are in a convoy of some seven
ships, a cruiser, destroyers and transports, loaded with troops
(probably sick and wounded). We were moving north along the Zambales
coast at about twenty knots."
About 0900 hours I heard planes; many of them; soon there were loud
blasts from the anti-aircraft guns on the deck above. The planes began
to dive. Faster and faster they whined. Then tremendous explosions!
They were attacking the other ships; they could knock us off at their
leisure.
Then bullets and shrapnel slashed and rattled through our hold- as
several food carriers were coming down the ladder with buckets of
rice.
One of these was my good friend, Chaplain Ed Nagel, a former
missionary in Baguio, shot through the thigh. With blood streaming
down his leg, he continued down the ladder carrying a bucket of rice.
"U.S. Navy planes!" he shouted.
There was no doubt now; our ship was the target, and we were sitting
on the bull's eye.
Motors continued to accelerate-then terrific concussions; the ship
quivered and was actually bouncing in the water. The air was full of
bomb dust and chips of rust; it was becoming difficult to breathe. We
tried to move toward the side of the hold and huddled close together.
My heart was pounding like a trip hammer in my parched throat; my ears
were ringing and my eyes were popping. I completely forgot how hungry
I was. Each prisoner was conversing with his God. I had quick visions
of my family they'll never know what happened to me. There'll be
no survivors to tell them. Will it ever stop?"
Many men were bleeding badly! There was much confusion, much moving
around. Everyone was trying to get in a safer place, to get bandages,
to apply pressure to wounds it was hopeless; everything was covered
with dirt and dust.
The planes were diving again, spraying their deadly missiles. (I have
neither the will nor the talent to describe the gory details.) "Would
this be the explosion that would blot out our existence?" Then it was
over! Complete silence!
Stunned, we moved into the center of the hold to get better air to
breathe and to thank God for surviving. We bandaged the wounded and
moved them into positions of relative safety.
But our quiet didn't last long! More planes! More anti-aircraft
blasts! More explosions! More concussions! More dust and dirt!
As a doctor, I had seen many people die during the previous sixteen
years. I knew that nature was usually kind to dying persons, supplying
stupor and coma to ease any pain. But I wasn't ready to die-I wasn't
even forty, when life is supposed to begin. We had buckets of rice,
covered with dirt and rust chips, but no one could eat.
Fifteen more times that day planes returned to attack our ship. Five
times the gun crews on the deck were annihilated and replaced with
fresh crews. There had been no lack of bravery on the deck. Officers
continued to wave their sabers at the pilots. During the last bombing,
fragments of rock flew into the hold; our ship had been beached on the
Zambales coast to prevent its sinking.
As the sun went down, we could feel the ship backing off the shore. By
watching the shadows rotate around the mast, we could tell that we
were headed to the west, out to sea. We wondered if the ship was fit
for further voyage.
Our food carriers, returning from the kitchen above, reported,
"All the other ships in the convoy are gone-probably sunk."
As we moved out to sea, we heard muffled explosions - depth charges
to keep submarines away.
After several hours the engines stopped and we drifted gently for some
time, and then the anchors were dropped. We could hear small boats
coming alongside. Wounded passengers were being taken off in the
darkness. A Japanese officer took several American doctors up on deck
to help the wounded. On returning, they reported, "The decks, cabins
and dining rooms are littered with
dead and dying. We had only candle light no medicines, no bandages.
Actually there was nothing we could do."
That night held all of the horrors of the previous night: groaning,
cursing, praying, screaming, and shouting of the wounded and crazed:
"Don't touch me! Oh! God, NO! Keep away from me! Don't kill me! Give
us air! Let us out! We need water!" and on through the night. The
unloading continued through the night. No one slept.
Dec. 15, 1944: The bright sunrise rekindled our apprehensions-" Are we
being left on board the ship to be bombed out of our miseries?"
We didn't have to wait long planes again closer and closer.
They were diving! This time there were no gun crews on deck!
"Now they can come in close for the kill!"
Deadly showers of bullets ricocheted through the hold. Tremendous
explosions shook the ship. Planked flooring off the hold fell into the
bilge, dropping many prisoners into the bottom of the ship; some were
hopelessly pinned down.
I prayed to God and asked for mercy, but felt that I had a poor
connection! Maybe He wasn't listening! He probably .had more important
things to do! My feelings were of complete submission-"What will be,
will be!"
Our doctors were frustrated! Wounds were covered with dirt blood
bubbling through the filth. No water available! We tore up clothing
for bandages, and hoped a miracle might help.
Large fires were burning in the stern of the ship where a bomb had
made a direct hit. We couldn't understand why Admiral Halsey's pilots
had not been informed that American prisoners were aboard the Oryoku
Maru.
It was disturbing to be bombed by our own Navy aviators "our friends."
Yet, I couldn't bear them any ill will. They obviously didn't know!
Mr. Wata, the diminutive and deformed Japanese interpreter, appeared
at the top of the hold, and shouted down, "Abandon ship! Remove all
clothing! Wounded must come up first! All of you leave ship!"
As the first fifty wounded reached the deck, back came the planes
strafing and bombing. Many of those reaching the deck were killed or
further wounded. In a few minutes we got a second opportunity to go up
the ladder. Knowing I would have to swim,
I removed my shoes and outer clothing; I discarded them with my
medical bag and "our" precious can of Spam. The rungs of the ladder
were very sharp and painful to my bare feet. By the time I had reached
the deck I was exhausted.
I was suddenly aware that three planes overhead were diving! I
believed I must get away from the ship and fast. I ran across the deck
toward the nearest shore and jumped off-just like in, the movies. Some
five decks below, I hit the water and descended about twenty feet; it
was a desperate struggle through oceans of green water to reach the
surface and God's good fresh air.
The planes were pulling out of their dives-they had dropped nothing.
They had spotted the waving prisoners in the water, circled around,
dipped their wings, and disappeared. I saw a piece of bamboo floating
in the water, pushing it; I slowly paddled toward shore, about
one-half mile away. Lt. Toshino and Mr. Wata, still on the ship, were
shooting prisoners possibly the "coup de grace" rather freely.
As we neared shore we were rounded up in a group in waist-deep water;
there we remained all day-shivering from cold and fright.
We were in Subic Bay, a large and beautiful harbor, and the site of a
large U.S. Naval base (Olangapo). We were surrounded with the jungles
and mountains of Bataan. Cy Delong and I decided we would climb up on
the sea wall and rest. As we were sitting there watching the group in
the water nearby, a Jap guard came out of the woods behind us, his
bayonet dripping with blood; he raised his rifle and put a shot
straight through Cy's heart, his chest spouting blood.
I wasted no time in jumping into the water and losing myself in the
group.
Twice during the afternoon, Navy planes returned and bombed the ship
with incendiaries-producing intense fires and many explosions.
Tennis Court: Toward evening, we were ordered to come ashore, each
four prisoners to carry a wounded man. Dripping wet, we were herded
through the forest for about one - half mile to a large tennis court
on the naval base.
A count showed 1,340 survivors. We had lost 286 men. Again, there was
not enough room on the court for everyone to sit down. As the sun went
down it became very chilly. There was nothing to eat all day.
Even though it was a great relief to be off the ill-fated Oryoku Maru,
nobody slept. The concrete surfaces became harder and harder as the
hours wore on. The mosquitoes became very enthusiastic about our bare
arms and legs.
Dee. 16, 1944: The warmth of the sun felt good. We improvised a
hospital at one end of the court. We tore up clothing for bandages and
broke up pieces of wood for splints. Many prisoners had serious burns:
faces were swollen and blistered, eyes were closed by edema, and lips
were puffed and cracked. Men who had swallowed oil were retching and
vomiting. Some had inhaled fumes and were coughing uncontrollably.
Fortunately the open air therapy was good for burns. Many survivors
were covered with oil; a very real problem.
My friend Ed, the chaplain, in spite of his painful wound, quickly
sized up the situation. He obtained a bar of soap, a safety razor and
some cloth and water. Ed spent the day washing faces and shaving
beards, trying to bring comfort to his patients.
The pleasant sun of the morning turned into a blistering heat in
the afternoon; there was no shade. Again, no food!
The Japs were jittery themselves; they were thoroughly unhappy over
the frequent bombings of the ship. We got blamed for the bombings, so
no food!
The night was cold with occasional rain. Croupy coughs developed in
all sections of the court. I felt I was growing thinner by the hour;
my bony prominences were making an effort to poke through my skin.
Prisoners were extremely restless and angry; they kept up a constant
chatter all night. The guards became very annoyed and threatened to
shoot into the court. "Be quiet! Ve vill shoot in the dalk!"
Dee. 17, 1944: One sack of raw rice for 1340 prisoners-averaged out to
four teaspoons per person. The night was very cold. I couldn't get my
mind off the clothing, medical bag and Spam that I had abandoned on
the ship. Three patients died during the night. The count was now
1,337.
Dee. 18th: Everyone had eye irritation; one sack of raw rice. A truck
load of worn-out Japanese summer underwear arrived. As usual there was
not enough to go around. Two died. The count was now 1,335.
Dec. 19th: The Oryoku Maru rolled on its side and sunk out of sight,
ending the periodic explosions. One sack of rice, many croupy coughs.
Bitter cold night-prisoners can't sleep. Much chattering; guards
furious kept threatening to shoot. Two died. The count was now 1,333.
Dec. 20th: A Marine officer's arm was becoming gangrenous; Lt. Col.
Jack Schwartz amputated the arm with only a jack knife and no
anesthetic. The marine lived only a few hours before giving his last
sigh of relief. One sack of rice. Three deaths. The count, 1,330.
Thirty trucks arrived; 681 prisoners were put on the trucks bound for
the jail in San Fernando, Pampanga. Now there was more room to lie
down. No sleeping; many hacking coughs.
Dec. 21st: The thirty trucks came back; our remaining group 648 - were
put aboard for the trip to San Fernando. I got a good look at the
Olongapo Naval Base as we passed through; it h d been completely
destroyed. One death today. The count - 1,329.
A very hot and dusty trip. We were afraid the U.S. planes might
discover the large clouds of dust raised by our convoy. We arrived at
an empty theater, which offered cover and some protection from cold
and mosquitoes.
Dec. 22, 1944: Received five sacks of cooked rice two cups each a
real treat.
"They are probably fattening us up for who knows what!"
Toward evening, Mr. Wata, the Jap interpreter, entered the theater and
inquired, "Who is too sick or too disabled to continue journey to
Japan?"
He asked our medics to select fifteen disabled. We thought we were
doing the fifteen disabled a favor, and actually envied them. They
would be going back to Bilibid in Manila.
Wata took the prisoners away in a truck supposedly to Bilibid.
We learned that the Japs took the prisoners to the local cemetery,
forced them to dig their own graves, and then bayoneted them, so they
fell in the graves. A most miserable night.
Dec. 24th: Sunday - About 0900 hours, we were marched down the street
barefooted and in rags to the railroad station. The Nips enjoyed
prodding and goading us especially in front of the Filipinos to show
the superiority of the yellow race. We arrived at a very badly damaged
station. There were ten
small freight cars with an engine at each end standing on a siding;
131 prisoners were crowded into and on top of each car. There was
barely room to stand in the cars; it was stifling; it was difficult to
breathe the hot air; in fact there wasn't enough air to breathe.
It took nearly eighteen hours to go the one hundred miles north to the
end of the line at San Fernando, La Union. On the way, I passed out.
When I came to, I found myself lying on the floor with prisoners
sitting on me. Fortunately I had found a crack in the floor through
which I could breathe.
Dee. 25, 1944: Monday - We arrived at the station about 0300 hours
after much thirst, hunger and misery. There were several dead on the
floor of each car. We spent the remainder of the night on the gravel
terrace about the station. Most prisoners had dysentery, so the area
was soon filthy.
As the sun rose, we were lined up and marched through the streets.
Japanese soldiers, hanging out many windows and doors, were laughing
and joking as they spotted us odd characters passing by. We were taken
to a school yard. The school house became our hospital. Every survivor
was extremely weak. We were given a half cup of cooked rice for our
Christmas dinner.
About 2000 hours, as we were settling down for the night, we were
routed out for tenko (counting) - 1,308.
We then marched several miles to the beach. No one volunteered to help
us medics carry the sick and wounded. We dug holes in the sand for
windbreaks, and huddled together for warmth. It was too cold to sleep!
Dee. 26, 1944: About 0500 hours, we were divided into groups of one
hundred, and each prisoner issued a rice ball. As usual, there wasn't
enough to go around.
Our groups were taken one at a time out into Lingayen Gulf to bathe.
It was very pleasant while it lasted. The beach soon became very hot.
We received three teaspoons of water to drink. Two died. The count -
1,306.
Dee. 27, 1944: In a series of short marches, we crossed a small
peninsula to a pier. Six large transports were anchored in the gulf.
There were fourteen sunken vessels visible above water.
Landing barges were bringing about fifty Japanese soldiers at a time
to the beach with many boxes of ammunition. The barges then came over
to our pier to take on some fifty prisoners.
High waves made it very difficult to get on the barge; I had to jump
down about ten feet onto the bouncing front deck. I was surprised that
my "toothpick" legs didn't buckle under the jolt. We started out to a
transport with a No.2 on the stack, the Brazil Maru. An air raid
alarm sounded!
In the confusion our landing craft was directed to an empty transport
marked No.1, the Enoura Maru. We were soon up the long ladder, and put
in the forward hold; then we were divided into groups of twenty.
This time there was plenty of room and an abundance of fresh air, but
it was very cold.
On the level above us were hundreds of sick and wounded Japanese
soldiers returning to Japan. They were dressed in army caps, long
white gowns, g-strings, and field shoes. No food; no water! But the
Jap soldiers were eating their regular meals three times daily. Steel
decks very hard! Unable to sleep.
Dee. 28, 1944: Thursday-Under way at dawn! Again, no food; no water;
Jap patients getting three regular meals on time. A few prisoners were
trying to trade jewelry for food. Most of us had nothing to trade.
Manure and flies were very bad.
When I attempted to stand, I blacked out. One died; we wrapped him in
a straw mat, had a brief religious ceremony, and then slid him over
the side. The count, (?) 1,305.
Col. Harold Johnson, our C.O., prohibited all trading with the Japs! A
civilian gambler from Manila ignored his orders and obtained rice and
candy for his friends. Angry prisoners scattered the rice and candy
into the darkness.
December 29, 1944: Raining. Prisoners fought each other, trying to get
their cups and mess gear under the drippings from the hatch covers to
catch a few drops. Two spoons of rice.
1800 hours - Blasts of large guns on the deck. We crawled off the
wooden planks on to the steel deck. Depth charges were exploding on
each side of the ship for a thirty minute period. Then there was
enthusiastic clapping by the Japs on the upper deck. It was announced:
"Japanese Impeliar Navy has sunk Amelican submaline!" Banzai/ Banzai/
Banzai/
At 2000 we dropped anchor. There was a full moon. Pens, rings and mess
gear were being traded for cigarettes or water. It was a very cold
night.
Hips and spines were becoming extremely sore-attempting to poke
through the skin.
December 30: The sea was very rough. Our empty ship,
floating high, pitched and pounded. Half cup of rice; several spoons
of water.
2000 hours - shelling and depth charges for half hour. During the
night a Japanese soldier fell from the upper deck into our hold killed
by the fall. This added much to the usual confusion. Intermittent
depth charges all night as our ship dashed and pounded across the open
sea toward Formosa.
Dee. 31, 1944: Sunday-No food; half cup of water! Col. Johnson told
Mr. Wata: "If we don't get food, we will all die!"
Mr. Wata responded: "Evelbody must die! This is no time for
sympathy!"
The sea was very rough and very cold! During the night we entered a
land-locked harbor-Takao in Formosa. It was New Year's Eve! The old
bewhiskered rabbi and farmer, Aaron Kliatchko died. The count, (?)
1,304
Jan. 1, 1945: We dared to think that things might get better in
"forty-five." We began to hear, "Still alive in 'forty-five!'" Issued
five moldy "hardtack" type biscuits.
The prisoners were now like animals in a cage begging for food and
cigarettes. The Japs couldn't understand how the Americans could
expend so much energy jumping for cigarettes, when they were
supposedly very weak. Three-quarters of a cup of water (a real treat).
Bitter cold. We were extremely hungry, thirsty and cold. Our bodies
were very sore and we were unable to sleep.
Old John "The Thief," died. The count, (?) 1,303.
Jan. 2, 1945: The harbor was surrounded by high, snow covered
mountains; we were in southern Formosa. The Japanese patients were
taken out of the holds; their areas were fumigated by American
soldiers-hoping to get something to eat in return for their work.
Col. Johnson again requested food. Mr. Wata answered: "United States
submalines sink arr Japanese food ships! Vely solly!"
Many prisoners continued to scramble around the hold grabbing for
cigarettes thrown down from the deck above; they were more addicted to
tobacco than food. Their prancing around made it more difficult for us
to convince the Japanese that we were hungry and thirsty.
Received two-thirds cup of rice and one teaspoon of dried fish. No
water! A bitter cold night! Much coughing! Some prisoners were acting
crazy; doing weird and unpredictable things. An officer was assigned
to guard the stairway so none of these crazy
persons would try to escape and cause an incident.
Jan. 3rd, 1945: 0800-There was an air-raid alarm! It was followed by
rapid firing from the deck for about two hours; much running about on
the deck above. Several planes flew low over the harbor probably
observing. No food; no water!
When I tried to stand, I blacked out! Many prisoners were coughing,
and suffering from cramps and dysentery. It was a very cold night. The
Japs worked all night loading the ship.
Jan. 5: In the evening, as we were trying to get to sleep, several of
us were showered with 11 liquid, which tasted like battery acid. "What
were the Japs up to now?" The liquid proved to be the contents of a
latrine bucket; the prisoner, carrying the bucket to the deck, was so
weak, he spilled it. When we asked the guards for some sea water to
clean ourselves off, they just laughed.
I volunteered to take guard duty at the stairway so I wouldn't
freeze to death.
Jan. 6th: It was bitter cold! We were still barefooted and wearing the
summer clothing received at the Olongapo Naval Base in the
Philippines. The guards were shivering in spite of heavy overcoats. No
food; no water!
We were taken up on deck, then down a long ladder to scows and moved
out into the harbor. Some prisoners were grabbing dirty and rotten
vegetables floating in the filthy water. Some even filled their
canteens with sea water.
In a few minutes, our scow pulled up to transport No.2, the Brazil
Maru. We were soon up the ladder and put in the second hold with the
other prisoners - all 1,273 of us. We were told that there had been
thirty deaths on the Brazil Maru. We were divided into groups of
twenty. Again it was very crowded; much confusion, much cursing.
Half cup of rice; a quarter cup of thin cabbage soup. A miserable
night.
Jan. 7, 1945: We started a hospital on the upper deck and moved some
fifty dysentery cases into it. The Japs gave us some dysentery
medicine-looked like pellets of gunpowder. Flies were very bad. Four
died! Tenko (?) 1,262.
Jan. 8th: Hatch covers were moved above us admitting dazzling light
and extreme cold. All prisoners were moved off from the lower deck;
about 473 into the forward hold, and about 789 on to the upper deck of
our hold; again it was very crowded.
Thirty-seven English and Dutch prisoners were taken off the ship-to be
transferred to a P.O.W. camp in Formosa.
Winches lowered many sacks of sugar into the lower hold. Mr. Wata
warned us, "If you touch any sugal, you vill be hollibly shot!"
Jan. 9th, 1945: At daybreak, we heard many planes followed by
anti-aircraft fire in the distance. Very soon, planes were overhead!
There was panic in our hold. Men were trying to get off the wooden
planks on to the steel decks. A young captain stood up and shouted,
"Everybody stay put! You are as safe in one place as another!"
A direct hit produced a blinding and deafening explosion nearby; a
tremendous orange flash followed by pandemonium.
Hatch covers above came crashing down into the bilge, dropping many
prisoners thirty to forty feet below. There were screams, cries,
groans, and oaths! The air was filled with dust and dirt. Wounded were
soon being dragged into our improvised hospital; many with fractures,
shrapnel wounds, all covered with dirt.
Just as we were getting the wounded cases moved into the hospital and
the dysentery cases out, back came the planes. When it was over we had
lost several of our doctors. Col. Riney Craig, Major Mack Williams and
I were the only doctors still active. We removed the clothing from
thirty dead to give to those still living. No food! No water! Open
hatches aggravated the bitter cold night.
Jan. 10, 1945: We worked on the wounded all morning. In the afternoon
my attention was called to a shrapnel-made gash in the forward
bulkhead of our hold. I looked through into the forward hold and
witnessed the most horrible sight of my life.
There were three hundred mangled Americans piled some three deep the
result of a direct bomb hit. At the sides of the hold, a few wounded
were sitting and standing dazed and motionless. The Japs had no
compassion at all they would not let us enter the forward hold to help
in any way.
Jan. 11, 1945: Finally, two days after the bombing, several masked and
white robed Jap soldiers gallantly descended the ladders into our
hold, and painted mercurochrome on minor wounds. They would not look
at the serious wounds.
The Japs wound not enter the forward hold. Only God knew what
suffering was going on there. Jap laborers pounded wooden
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wedges into the holes in the sides of the ship. Water in the forward
hole was up to the flooring.
The night was bitter cold; my feet had lost all feeling. There were
endless groans and screams from the wounded and crazed.
Jan. 12, 1945: Forty-five bodies in our hold were tied to lines to be
lifted to the deck. I can never forget the grotesque positions some of
the bodies assumed as they were raised. Then the winches lifted 150
bodies out of the forward hold and placed them on a scow beside the
ship.
One cup of rice! No water! Not even rice for the survivors in the
forward hold.
Jan. 13, 1945: 150 more bodies winched out of the forward hold. We
heard that the dead were taken to a Chinese cemetery near the beach
and cremated.
In the afternoon, our sick and wounded were raised on ropes. The rest
of us climbed the long ladders and sat on the deck waiting our turn to
get on a small platform to be lifted; twenty at a time; then dropped
at a dizzy speed to a small scow.
There were many dead on the scow; among them, my old guerrilla
chieftain, Col. Everett Warner, of Pikesville, Md., who had died just
as he predicted, "Like a rat in a hole!" It made me ill to look at my
good friend his face was covered with large blood blisters but I
wanted that one last look. I had always had much respect for this
dedicated soldier, a Freedom Fighter!
Enoura Maru: We were quickly taken over to the ship we had been on
earlier No. 1, the Enoura Maru and were soon pulling each other up the
long ladder. We were all placed in the same hold just aft the
superstructure.
Ed Nagel, John Shock, Cary Smith, and Wade Cothran were crowded into a
very dirty bay with me; it was filled with coal dust. We huddled next
to the coal containers to preserve any warmth in our bodies.
One-quarter cup of rice; no water!
Thirty bodies were quickly piled up by the stairs after being stripped
of their clothing to be used by the living. The count, (?) 924.
Jan. 14, 1945: Sunday - At dawn, we moved out of the harbor in a
convoy of six or seven ships. Everyone had dysentery. The latrines
were two boxes hung over the side of the ship. Only two persons were
allowed on the deck at a time. Many were too weak to climb the stairs.
The floor soon became filthy, making walking in bare feet very
unpleasant.
Our ship zigzagged generally north at a speed of about eight knots.
One-quarter cup of rice; no water! Another thirty prisoners died.
Toward evening, medics carried the bodies to the deck; after a short
service by the strongest chaplain, the bodies were slid into the sea.
The count, (?) 894.
Jan. 15, 1945: The night had been extremely cold; I had lost all
feeling in my feet. I had no desire to freeze to death; in fact I had
volunteered for the Philippines because I enjoyed warm weather. We
were all becoming extremely dehydrated; urination became very painful.
One cup of rice; no water (4th day). The count, (?) 864.
Jan. 16, 1945: Several inches of snow on the deck. Some men were
.going down into the hold to get sugar. It was very difficult to
swallow the sugar without water.
Cursing and stealing were now a way of life. Anchored all night. The
count, (?) 834.
Jan. 17, 1945: I was bitter cold; we were hibernating-huddled close
together-not moving any more than necessary; we were saving our
energy. One-quarter cup of rice; no water (6th day): Usual deaths. The
count, (?) 804.
We were very discouraged; we believed the end could not be far away.
Anchored all night!
Jan. 18, 1945: Very cold! The sea has turned muddy (? Yellow Sea). We
were passing many barren, mountainous islands to the starboard with an
occasional lighthouse. One-quarter cup of rice; twelve teaspoons of
water. Anchored at night. Thirty-two died. The count, (?) 772.
Jan. 19, 1945: We were underway at dawn-for three hours then stopped!
We were alongside a large transport badly humped up amidships. It had
been torpedoed! Many Jap soldiers were standing on the deck in their
overcoats, shivering.
We spent most of the day waiting while seamen attempted to get a cable
aboard the stricken vessel. Finally underway making only three knots.
One-half cup of rice; twelve spoons of water. Many have died. The
count, (?) 740. Anchored at night. Very cold! Brrrr!
Jan. 20, 1945: Moving north all day very slowly. Major Kirchner, an
Army medic, died in the next bay (he had had a leg broken during the
bombing of January 9th). Thirty died. The count, (?) 710.
January 21, 1945: Sea has turned green. Zigzagged generally
north. The cable to the crippled vessel snapped; we drifted for hours
while seamen spliced it. One cup of rice; several spoons of water.
Usual dead. The count, (?) 680.
Jan. 22, 1945: Monday - Moved north for ten hours towing our
albatross. Major Wade Cothran died in his sleep-next to me. I was able
to get his sweater, a big help in keeping the cold out. Usual deaths.
The count, (?) 650.
Jan. 23, 1945: Extremely cold; had been snowing all night. Col. Shock,
Dental Officer, died in our bay. He had been very bitter. He thought
the doctors had not given him the proper care. He could not have been
more right! Other friends dying: Cmdr. Josses, USN medic, Maj. Horace
Greely, Capt Kornblum, Army dentist. The count, (?) 620.
Jan. 24, 1945: Snowing and bitter cold. The ship was making very poor
time; life was slowly ebbing away.
Jan. 25, 1945: Extremely cold! Col. Fred Saint of the Army Engineer
Corps died. He had been wounded in the Jan. 9th bombing. One-quarter
cup of rice; six spoons of water.
Jan. 26, 1945: Coooold! Many have died! There were only three
chaplains alive of twenty-three starting the trip. The medical service
had completely evaporated. Major "Mac" Williams was the only medic
still on his feet.
We passed another convoy going south. One-quarter cup of rice; no
water! The count, (?) 555.
Jan. 27th: Anchored all day! Any chance of survival is slowly slipping
away. I was so weak, it was impossible to move around. Snow covered
islands around us were beautiful. One-quarter cup of rice; six spoons
of water. The count, (537).
Jan. 28th: We were underway at dawn; many depth charges had been
dropped during the night. One-quarter cup of rice; no water! The
count, (?) 517.