PW-POW-JM

            Mercer  was in a veterans home when I received his story  from V. Chandler in ’93;  Mercer no longer remembered. DL

            After graduating from Duke University in 1940, I entered the Army Air Corps. Primary training started in Glenview, Illinois in July of that year. Basic and advance courses were completed at Maxwell Field in Montgomery, Alabama. I received my commission in March, 1941.

            My instructor in Advance School listed me for instructor work but the idea did not appeal to me. I wanted a different kind of flying experience and volunteered for foreign duty to get out of the job.

            We were told that the foreign stations had many of the latest planes and that we would get plenty of time and experience- At that time the war was something that was disrupting the lives of people abroad and many thought that it still couldn't happen to us.

            I arrived in Manila on May 8, 1941. We were prepared for a nice quiet vacation In the Philippines with an easy life and leisurely flying.

            There were twenty-eight pilots. One-half were assigned to observation and the other half to bombardment. I was stationed at Clark Field with the 2nd Observation Squadron. We remained until October and then moved to Nichols Field in Manila.

            Instead of the numerous new planes, we found some obsolete junk. There wasn't enough equipment in the islands to stage a decent parade. Pilots began pouring in, but no planes. I flew three or four times a week on sight seeing tours around the islands.

            The Life was almost too easy. I felt as though I was on a wonderful vacation. We were naive enough to think that the Yellow Peril was dime novel stuff and we would sit around the flight room and sing a song that started with, "the Nipponese came over here and caught us when we were drinking beer." In November we were told that war was possible soon. But we knew that the Jap Navy could be taken care of. We knew their planes and pilots were not too good and it did not seem to be a serious situation.

            Planes were on the way to us and 78 transports were expected to arrive in December.

            Pat Rafferty, a pilot with whom I had gone through flying school, and myself were living in Manila with a Spanish boy. Luis, Pat and I had a beautiful home with five servants. We had made many good friends in Manila. The going was easy and we were well pleased with life.

            Our tour of foreign duty was to last two years. We had trips planned around the islands and the Orient. The Christmas holidays were near and we had planned a week in Baguio, the mountain resort of the Philippines.

            It was December 7 and we were having an open house birthday party for Luis.

            A phone call came from the field late that night that disrupted our party and our plans.

            The Nips had hit Pearl Harbor and we were called to the field.

            December 8 I arrived at NichoIs Field at 1 a.m. Planes were warmed up and armament men were busy installing guns in many of the combat planes. We waited until 12 that morning for the first blow. Word came that Baguio and Clark Field had been bombed.

            Communication with Clark was disrupted by the bombing. Headquarters called for a flight to deliver orders and report on the damage.

            One of our observation planes, a shiny, aluminum and glass greenhouse with a top speed of 80 m.p.h., and no guns, was rolled out for my mission.

            I Confidently (naively would be better) took off. When I had gained altitude over Manila. columns of smoke were plainly visible 60 miles away -- Clark Field.

            I was soon to see the cost of the order not to fire until the first blow had struck the Philippines. That blow was practically a knockout.

            The planes had been up all morning on patrol but were down for refueling when the bombs hit.   Half of our B-17s and many ;other planes were destroyed that first day.

            The order which I carried to Col. Eubank called for the immediate bombing of Formosa by his B-17s. There wasn't a likeness of one left on that field. Returning to Nichols field I didn't feel so confident.

            I made my report at headquarters, but they seemed to think I was out of my head. They didn't believe what I had seen they did not want to believe it.

            Late that night the Japs raided Nichols. There wasn't much of an air war after that Most of the Air Corps became, combat infantry.

            As December passed, the Japs came on. Watching the pin map in headquarters, we kept wondering how it could be happening. They were coming fast and on Manila and the pins were getting closer together.

            On the evening of December 24, the evacuation of Manila started. I had but a few minutes to stop home and say good bye to Luis and friends -- and civilization.

            We boarded transports in Manila Bay that night and headed for Marivalles Harbor on the south tip of Bataan.

            Christmas day was anything but merry and the prospects for the new year did not make me any happier.

            My outfit was sent to the front as infantry. I remained there for a short while and was later transferred to Signal Hill with seven other pilots. We were observers again but we were doing our work from the ground. We had several points from which all of Bataan and Central Luzon could be seen. Our job was reporting all Jap air and sea activity to the air command. After the first two months we had another problem – food. That problem was never solved. During the last month, we became too weak to climb to our main observation post on top of Mt Bataan.

            Help was always "on the way" to Bataan. I realized that if I ever got out of Bataan alive, it would be luck. The prospects were Slow death by starvation, slaughter by the Japs, or, possibly, prisoners of war.

            If death came, it would be an easy way out.

            I decided I didn't want death and began preparing myself for the hard way.

            If I did live, I would be a prisoner of the Japs and that would mean existence, not life. It also meant hardship.  I began to make a few mental adjustments and the one that aided me most in the years to come was "admit nothing to be a hardship."  The March started four days after the surrender. I left Bataan, determined that some day I was going to see home again.

            The MARCH was not an organized movement of troops: it was a herding of hungry cattle by sadistic Japanese.  Groups of 100 to 400 were leaving Bataan for a period of about ten days. Many of the men were suffering from malaria and dysentery and practically all were weak after three or more months of very short rations.  Seven Officers and myself left signal Hill April 12, four days after the surrender. Five of us entered O'Donnell prison camp on April 23. Four of the five have died in Jap hands since.

            Twice during those 11 days, we were given a small amount of rice and water by our hosts.

            We carried packs from Signal Hill taking what clothes, blankets and supplies we thought it would be possible to march with. Three days later, we were empty handed. What the Japanese hadn't taken we had thrown away. The Philippine hot season was on and traveling light was essential to traveling at all.

            Usually we marched all day sometimes without a stop. When we were given a break it was in the burning sun – never were we allowed in the shade. Many times we were left in dried up rice paddies for two or three days – so crowded that no one could lie down.

            Getting water and food were dangerous undertakings but by working together we managed most of the way. Eating sugar cane that grew along the route probably saved many lives.

            The men could stand thirst only so long – then regardless of Jap guards, they would break for a well, a muddy ditch, or anything that appeared to be liquid. I once quenched my thirst in a stagnant slimy pool that contained a dead horse and a dead Philippino. Sometimes the guards would let the men fall from the column to get water but often they would only let them get started. If you could not keep up with the column and had to drop out it was good-bye forever.

            The third day out I had to watch three Americans with bayonets at their backs, burying three Philippinos. One of the Philippinos was dead but the other two could still wave their arms in futile protest.

            After the first half of the distance was covered, we thought we could make the last days standing up. The following day a new group of guards accompanied us. We went the next 40 hours without food or water and marched steadily for the first 18 hours. The second day we were parched. Later that morning while passing through a town, Filipinos motioned us toward a rain barrel – two or us took the chance. While leaning over the barrel my friend was bayoneted through the back before the Jap could square away at me. I ran to the road and lost my self in the column. Later that morning another of our group went out of his head and was shot while running from the road.

            That afternoon one of the six remaining in our cooperative group collapsed from exhaustion. A guard was going to bayonet him but we picked him up and took turns carrying him on our backs. That did not last long – we were all too weak. Borrowing a blanket from another man in the column, we slung him on it and carried him eight miles into Lubao where we stopped that night.

The Bataan Death March

            That about finished us – we could carry him no further. We had to leave him at Lubao and later in O'Donnell, I learned from others he had been decapitated with those who were unable to walk from Lubao.

            The rest of the march into San Fernando is a hazy memory – and I'm glad it is.

            At San Fernando, we were "packed" in box cars for the trip to O'Donnell. After a nine kilometer walk from the railroad to the camp, we were given our welcome by the Japanese commandant.

            We again experienced the "sun treatment" for three hours while we waited for the welcome speech.

            Standing at attention, I heard part of his address – given by him and translated into English by his interpreter.

            "You are the enemies ... Japan will defeat the United States if it take a hundred years ... someday the war will be over ... do not try to escape of you and nine others will be shot ... The Japanese people --- " That's as much as I remember. My friends picked me up and brought me to after the lengthy oration was finished. We then took our first look at a prison camp. 

O’Donnell

            O'Donnell was filthier than any pig pen I have ever seen, but pigs usually get better food than we were given there.

            To say that we were crowded would be an understatement. For the first month there were two water taps to supply thousands of men and water for cooking rice was taken from a nearby river -- most the drinking water by necessity, came from the same source.

            There were two long, continuous lines around that camp for the two months that we were there. The most important one was the water line. Getting a, canteen of water was an all-day job and the line was a ways there -- 24 hours a day. That line was for life the second was for death. In two months 2,700 Americans and 29,000 Filipinos died at O'Donnell.

            There was a "hospital" but it was more appropriately called S. Peters annex. It was a place to go to die.

            But men were dying all over the camp. Sometimes the stench of a three or four day old corpse, of a man who had crawled under some building, would prompt the living to get him in the burial procession. Men would often keep a corpse hidden as long as possible so that they could draw his ration and eat it themselves.

            So many were sick and weak that no one could be of much help to anyone but themselves. When you could no longer help yourself your days were numbered.

            Finding Men to do some of the jobs about camp that had to be done was a difficult task. The living were too far gone to bury the dead -- it was a vicious circle.

            I saw men, weak from dysentery and tired of living, crawl across the floor of the hospital from the living side to the dead side to join those who would soon be buried.

            The Philippine Red Cross sent a trainload of medical supplies, clothing and food to the camp immediately after it opened, but the Japanese sent it back just as promptly.

            Getting enough food was not too difficult. There were so many men too sick to eat that those who did have an appetite could at least get full of rice. But plain boiled rice is not satisfying. You can eat It till you are stuffed and still not be satiated. Thirty minutes later you can eat your fill again. Many men decided they would rather die than exist on a rice diet -- they died.

            The prison camp life was not too complicated though. My one and only problem was survival. There are two sides to that problem, however. One is the physical survival and the other mental survival. The physical side was almost completely out of my hands it was up to the Japs and chance. The mental side was entirely up to me.

            That problem started with basic philosophy, or, what is reality. Do you see things as they are, or, are things as you want to see them?

            After the March, everyone, consciously or subconsciously took one side or the other. In our case It came under different names - pessimism and optimism.

            Good reasoning told us that the odds were overwhelmingly, against us and that our Chances of survival were slim. Some pessimists thought it would be too much trouble to exist and they began giving up and dying.

            I believe that life is worth live under any circumstances. I became an optimist.

            Liberation was never over six months away for me. When that time was up, I merely enlisted for another six. I kept my hopes as high as possible, thinking only of the life I had had and the life I was going to have.

            Others had various methods of maintaining inner peace and a mental balance but each was finding the way that was best for him.

            We couldn't help each other very much because we didn't have anything to give. The most I could give was a brighter way of looking at life and a desire to live.

            We were all fighting battles those first few months but in the fight against disease and the Japs we were powerless. The mental battle was for the will to live, to take the treatment in stride, to survive, to be able to live with yourself and with other men under conditions which dictated everyone for himself.

            After two months in that camp were we glad to move -- anywhere.

            On July 4 we went to Cabanatuan and joined the men who had been on Corregidor.

Cabanatuan

            Cabanatuan was set up as the main prison camp in the Philippines. When we arrived there in July of 42 the men from Corregidor were already occupying the camp.

            After a few days, Cabanatuan became a second O'DonneIl. Over ten thousand men were again packed into a small space with no adequate facilities. The grim reaper didn't miss a day and the O'Donnell death rate continued.

            In September it was merely a matter of statistics -- we would all be dead in six months unless conditions improved.

            Malaria and dysentery were taking their toll, unchecked by either food or medicine.

            I went to the "hospital" side of the camp in July with dysentery, fever. jaundice, beri beri, etc. My case was just one of many.

            If you lost the strength to get up and take care of yourself it was all over. Each morning someone came through the shacks asking the question, "How many died in this ward to night?"

            Conditions did not improve until November. An epidemic of diphtheria started late in October and the morgue had to be moved to a larger building. The Japs in charge of the camp were threatened and that made the situation serious. However, it wasn't relieved until friends in Manila sent enough antitoxin to inoculate the entire camp.

            Late in November the administration changed its policy and we were given more food. On December 25 we received a Red Cross box, some bulk food supplies and medicine. (We received about one-tenth of the shipment. They kept the rest and even had a couple of warehouses stocked ,with bulk rolled oats and cereals that they were using to feed their horses.) The camp changed overnight with the food and medicine. Men regained their self respect, they took pride in keeping themselves clean. The death rate slowed and then it ceased.

            The first eighteen months at Cabanatuan I spent in the hospital side. My weight during the first year averaged under 100 pounds. But the idea of death never occurred to me. It was something that happened to others. I was doing fine because there were always others living around me who were In much worse shape than myself.

            Forty-three was a good year. We had sufficient food to exist and sometimes enough to feel like living. It looked as though we were going to survive and we, had liberation to look forward to somewhere in our future.

            In October of '43, I joined the duty side of the camp. We had a 450 acre farm, or rather, we made one out of almost jungle land.

            The Japs do everything the hard way and they took delight in instructing us in their methods. Although we raised more than enough for our needs on that farm, the Japs would give us but a set vegetable ration and let the rest rot.

            We had a library for the first eight months of '44. During that time I lived to read. For awhile I could occupy my mind with something besides introspection and retrospection - I lived a life as far from that camp as books could take me.

            Till late in '44 there weren't many milestones in camp life. Every day was like yesterday and every tomorrow would be like today. In December of '43 we received another Red Cross box. Various details were continually leaving camp, going to airfields on Luzon and going do Japan.

            To the east of us was a high range of mountains with a predominating peak over which the sun started its daily journey. I had often dreamed of seeing the first American planes coming with the morning sun and shining as brightly as they passed that peak.

            For many it was a dream of a dramatic entrance for the planes we had waited so long to see.

            On Sept. 21, 1944 we were working in the rice fields of our farm and the sun came up as usual but with it came a sight that made three years of waiting worth while.

            Directly over our dream mountain came a large flight of dive bombers and weaving, fighter escort. They were directly over us on their way to Clark Field and they didn't have "fried eggs" on their wings!

            Then to the north and south appeared other flights. That day our hopes of seeing the sky "black with planes" came true also our desire to be recaptured in the Philippines seemed to be certain of fulfillment.

            We had waited a long time for that battle and it was a pleasure to see a different expression on the Jap faces.

Bilibid

            After the raids of September 21 and 22, we knew that the offensive against Luzon had begun.

            I had managed to stay off all details leaving for Japan and now, with the continuous raids, I felt certain that it would be almost impossible for the Japs to get us out of the islands.

            Late in September, 30 Dutchmen came into our camp they had been enroute from Singapore to Japan and were the few survivors of a Jap transport that had been bombed off Luzon. Their ship was one of a convoy of four and all had been sunk in a few minutes. Their story was not a pleasant one and convinced us that the worse place we could be was in a Jap ship on the China sea.

            A 1,800 man detail had left camp in August and we knew that they were still sitting in Bilibid Prison in Manila while the Japs awaited a chance to get them out. We felt safe.

            A 1,600 officer detail, the last that could leave Cabanatuan, was alerted on Oct. 10 but could not be taken to Manila as the raids were heavy.

            But on October 17 we finally left for Bilibid. Manila Bay was then littered with bombed ships and our hopes of staying were still high -- if only the raids would continue.

            When we arrived at the Prison, the detail of 1,800 preceding us had left. They were transported on four ships and had been torpedoed in the China Sea -- four [persons] had survived.

            But a few days later our morale soared from the depths to a new high -- the first landing had been made at Leyte. We relaxed they couldn't get us out now.

            Food had been scarce the last few months at Cabanatuan but In Bilibid we were back to the early days. Our ration amounted to a cup of rice twice a day. We all lost weight and became weak in two months. But It didn't matter as long as we could stay in Manila, watch the battle we had waited to see and be back in American hands in a few. months -- we could make it.

            The Navy's carrier-based planes would raid Manila constantly with the longest break being four days. The bay was kept clear of ships and our hosts had their hands full.

            It was fun to be awakened early in the morning to the sound of the air raid sirens. We wanted to hear that siren, to see the dive bombers coming down all around us and to hear the strafing as the fighters came in low and riddled objectives in the city-it was music to us.

            On December 1, the music stopped and their was an agonizing silence for 13 days. we were worried but consoled ourselves with the thought that something big was a few days off.

            On December 12 at 7 p.m. the Japs told us that we were to leave at 4 o'clock in the morning. It was almost defeat to us. -- our impossible was about to happen.

            This called for a fast rationalizing on my part. Okay we were going to leave and wouldn't be retaken in the Philippines, but maybe we would be sunk at sea and picked up by the Americans -- if that doesn't happen, I just hope we will make Japan. Perhaps conditions there will be a little better -- time is going much faster now, six months in the earlier days seemed like eternity but now it is just a short wait. The progress of the war is accelerating and maybe we won't have to wait in Japan too long. All right let's be off, I'm ready to go, but let's make it.

Oryoku Maru

            On December 13, 1944, we marched to the docks. The 13-day lay off had given the Japs a chance to bring in ships and we saw seven afloat In the bay. At six that evening we boarded the Oryoku Maru. a second class passenger liner with a 22 knot speed.

            Now if only that 'something big" we had previously hoped for could wait just a few days more.

            Japanese civilians were on the top decks of the ship when we went aboard. Our group split up into three holds. Being a passenger ship, the holds were more like the closets of a small bungalow.

            Since Bataan and the March, I had seen a lot of death, starvation, thirst, struggle, brutality, murder and life as it shouldn't be lived. But it was only preparation. a conditioning, or callusing, for what was to came. I had fought for tranquillity and peace of mind, had rationalized to keep my illusions and see things as I wanted to see them. I had become so callused that the fate of others had no emotional effect. I prepared myself for everything but death. Death I never feared but I wanted strength so I wouldn't fear life.

            The first night at sea we were all struggling for room and air. I was in the bottom of the forward hold against the anchor, chain compartment. The planking above my head was so low that I couldn't sit up and we were jammed in so tightly that no one could lie down. Darkness was nearly complete but I could look forward about 30 feet and see the light entering from the hatch. Eight hundred were packed in that hold. The last men down had to stand at the base of the hatch cutting off the' natural air supply to the others. It was stifling hot and there was not enough air to go around. The ventilating system wasn't working. No one slept that night.

            At dawn the following morning the AA guns on deck started barking. Then came the roar of motors and the sound of strafing that only two days ago would have been music to our ears. The ship sounded like a cross between a boiler factory and an insane asylum. "Tranquillity, stay with me now! There's nothing you can do but sit here and take it easy -- if we're sunk maybe you'll get some fresh air and a bath."

            The strafing continued and the four AA guns and many smaller weapons on top deck were rocking the ship -- two dead Japs fell from their guns down in our hatch. No bombs were dropped that raid. The planes were transversely strafing the top decks and none of the lead hit our hold.

            The noise ceased and we breathed again but knew that only the first attack had been weathered.

            They came back -- they came back and repeated the performance seven more times before night. On the eighth attack, three bullets hit our hold, one came in right beside me and lodged in a beam by my shoulder. It left a clean round hole which let in some light and -- air! The action was over for that day, but not for the night.

            We had one cup of rice and no water since we left. That day was rough but that night was hell. A thermometer couldn't have survived in that heat. Men were going mad -- sucking for air that wasn't there, praying for water they couldn't get, fearing the death that had made it's introduction that day.

            Screaming men were quietly murdered, some were drinking blood or urine to quench their thirst and becoming even more thirst crazed. One hundred men died of suffocation on the boat that night and the dawn promised no change from insanity to sanity.

            Something had to happen or we would all be dead -- one way or the other in a few days.

            During the night the ship had been put into Subic Bay, north of Bataan. The dead Japanese civilian had been taken (all had been slaughtered in the day's raids) ashore and we and a few guards were the only occupants of the ship.

            Dawn again brought the drone of planes. There was a long burst of machine guns and a quaking shock as a bomb hit the aft hold. We settled to the bottom in shallow water. When that flight left the guards told us to come out of the holds and swim to shore. As the first men reached the deck and started scrambling down the sides of the ship, another flight appeared.

            Evidently recognizing the occupants, the flight rocked their wings and flew off. Thirteen hundred of the sixteen came off the Onyoku that morning and enjoyed the finest swim of their lives as they headed for the Olongapo shore, clutching rafts and boxes.

            I had but one thought -- "well that's over with. Now we'll go aback to Bilibid. They can't try that again."

Olongapo

            When we swam ashore in Subic Bay, we had the feeling of victory -- the Japs had lost their chance to get us out. We would now go back to Bilibid and wait for the "Yanks and Tanks."

            Most of us stepped on the beach with little or no cloths, but no one was too concerned we were glad to be alive and on Philippine soil.

            The survivors were taken to Olongapo and billeted on a tennis court. It looked like the old "sun treatment" again and it was.

            I won't go into the details again but this was the general picture: Thirteen hundred men with hardly any clothing, on one cement tennis court -- in the blazing sun -- one spigot of water to supply the group -- no food for the first three days -- two tablespoons of raw rice a day for the second three days. I know how a holiday turkey feels now only he was stuffed and basted and I wasn't.

            There were no dull moments the first three days. The dive bombers and strafes plastered the installations all around us within less than 100 yards. They were diving directly over us and we could watch the bombs, tracers an rockets pass our heads. Empty cartage cases were raining on us and we found it rather hard to dig a foxhole in that cement.

            Again we were hoping that the raid would stop so they could take our cooked bodies back to Bilibid.

            After six days, the trucks came and we felt like celebrating as we again traveled the road out of Bataan in San Fernando.

            But we stopped in San Fernando. One group went to the local jail and another to the theater. It wasn't an overnight stand -- we stayed four days. Probably waiting for a train, we thought. We were right. The subway guards went into action and we were again stacked into the miniature Filippino box cars about 135 to a car, and there wasn't room for one more. The overflow was perched on the roofs. I don't know which was worse, melting and exhausting inside or frying on top.

            But the ride wouldn't be too long to Manila. We were some time getting started and when the train did get under way it was in the wrong direction. Mania was south we were headed north. Where? To Baguio no doubt, where the Nips would, make their last stand.

            We left early in the morning and arrived at our destination, Damortis, at midnight. We had no food or water that day and were standing, packed so tightly that it was impossible to even sag.

            Most of the men were at that stage where they didn't care -- if they lived through it all right, if they didn't, what the hell, it was beginning to be a lot of effort and if they ever got us on another boat at Lingayen we would be lucky if anyone got off.

            We arrived at Damoric Christmas eve and the following morning our stocking was filled with ships lying at anchor in the port. We weren't going to Baguio -- we were headed for Japan -- Japan or bust.

            We stayed in the school house yard Christmas day and moved to the beach that evening.

            That night, the following day and night we sat on the beach. We were sweltering again and that water looked good -- in a way. A couple of men tried it but with the usual results.

            Early the following morning we were taken to a Jap transport from which they had been unloading horses the previous day.

            The ship got under way soon after we were tucked away in one of its three empty hold. The first day our, while hugging the Luzon coast a poorly aimed torpedo padded a few feet astern of us and made a dent in the shore line.

            A few days later we anchored in Takao, the southern port of Formosa.

            When we had anchored in Takao, they took us all on deck, split the group in two holds and loaded some salt in the bottom of the middle hold. I had started down the ladder of the forward hold but it looked dark and wet and I decided to go back to the middle one again.

            The third day in the harbor, there was an air raid as a B-29 looked over the shipping. If we did not leave now we were in for it again.

'           We didn't leave,

            It wasn't a long ordeal the next day, however. There was only one raid and about four passes made at our ship. We could hear the bombs hitting other ships around us and we could tell when we were the target as the AA fire from our boat became intense. There were a few staffing passes and then a 500 pounder blew a hole in the forward part of the ship. Planking fell on us and fell from under us. Men fell 30 feet to the bottom of the hold. some were killed by falling hatch cover and some by lead. We considered ourselves lucky when the report came from the forward hold. Over 250 never knew what hit them and about the same number were seriously wounded. The ship kept afloat and the raid was over but we felt the trouble had just begun.

Ship to Japan

            The condition of the center hold was bad enough. We piled the dead in one corner and made an attempt to straighten out the debris. The wounded were placed together in another "Saint Peters Annex". We could do nothing for them and. knowing the Japs, expected no help.

            We were still a long distance from Japan and freezing weather and exposure were ahead of us. The wounded would have been better off dead because their death was almost certain and it would be a slow agonizing one under the worst conditions.

            I wouldn't care to describe the forward hold too clearly. Bodies and parts of bodies were piled to one side -- 250 critically wounded men with no one to help them a gaping hole in the side of the ship and the hatch covers blown off -- a freezing night ahead of them and probably another raid tomorrow.

            The Japanese did nothing for two days -- just ignored us. We wondered if they would move us to another ship or just let the pile of corpses become complete.

            On the third day they allowed the dead to be removed. Two barges were loaded and the bodies taken ashore and cremated. Some Japanese medical men came aboard. They looked down into the forward hold and walked away. They entered our hold and painted a few cuts on the less seriously wounded.

            We realized that there would be a few more days in that harbor -- one way or another -- and if we heard another gun go off we would be listening to 'taps'.'

            The afternoon of the fourth day after the raid we were transferred to another ship. It left early the following morning in a convoy. Next stop Japan, we hoped. (I have seen pictures in a Navy Journal of that harbor I taken later that same day. We had left with three hours to spare.)

            How we survived the coming winter weather after three years of sickness and anemia in the tropics, after weeks of starvation and breaking ordeals, I didn't know. But if I could only reach Japan alive, somehow I could see the rest through.

            We left Takno on January 14 and during the next 16 days our number was halved. The Ship went off course twice to tow crippled transports to base islands in the Okinawas. The convoy was attached by a sub off the Okinawas and we could again hear the deck guns barking -- it wasn't a pleasant feeling.

            Each day it became colder. Many of the men had nothing but shorts the first part of the trip and as others died there was a scramble for what clothing they had. There was ice on the decks and we were immediately below them. The hold resembled a refrigerator.

            We laid, spoon-fashion, 24 hours a day to keep as warm as possible. Our ration was a third of a cup of rice twice a day and three ounces of water per man. Three days we received but one meal and the water was frequently salty.

            Seven hundred and sixty five men were dying at the rate of 25 to 35 a day. Some men whom I thought had the best chance of surviving died suddenly, others who had been nearly dead many times before and who now wore the mask of death kept on living. There was no correlation of the deaths to any factor.

            We were crowded when we left Takao but when we reached Japan we were taking turns in my group laying on the ends of the keep-warm -column.

            With the ration we received from the Japs none of us would have lived. But the cargo of salt loaded on the boat that was bombed in Takao turned out to be sugar --sugar that gave us the warmth to fight exposure. The ship we transferred to also had a hold of sugar. Some died from eating it and others lived but without it we would have all gone.

            There was an ever-present pile of corpses in the hold. Usually they would take the pile out daily and throw them over the side. Sometimes it was a two or three day accumulation. It was seldom that I could recognize any of them. I wouldn't have recognized myself had I had a mirror.

            The 16 days from Formosa seemed like eternity and when we finally docked I felt that at least I had made Japan.

            It was snowing January 29, the day we debarked. The Japanese had us come on deck where we were given some clothes and told to change into them -- there. I was too numb to feel anything. (Later when we reached our camp I found my weight to be 95 pounds but I never believed my bones could weigh that much.)

            Just for fun the Japs turned a hose on one man while he was changing his clothes. That made the total to go ashore in Moji 493.

            We walked off that ship; if you couldn't walk and no one could help you, you didn't leave.

            I never saw a bleaker, colder looking place as I did that morning. There were no chimneys and no smoke was visible. "What do they do for heat", I thought. I soon learned -- they didn't. We were taken to a large empty building and given some food. I don't think I will ever enjoy food as much as I did then.

            That experience paled any horror story that I had ever read or heard. The uglier details have been left out as I don't think they should be written. It was mass, slow murder and I think the Japanese were surprised to see as many skeletons go ashore in Japan as did.

            But death continued with us and before we left the building that day about 30 more died. To go through that trip and then die! Since I had paid that high price I was going to live if they fed me anything at all.

            We were segregated into four groups. Three of the groups going to different camps nearby and the fourth one going to a hospital. With my knowledge of Japanese hospitals I decided to stay out of that column. I was in a group of 193 that went to a Fukuoko prison camp.

            "If I can only get inside a building and get warm maybe I'll see the spring and cherry blossoms".

*O*

            I thought of many things as we left Moji for our first camp in Japan. Would the treatment be any different here, how would the food be, (if we get something three times a day it would be the first time in four months) Would there be Red Cross supplies and medicine, would the buildings be heated, could we acclimate ourselves to winter weather, how much longer would we have to wait and how many of us would see it through?

            Our first luxury in three years was the train ride to the camp in Fukuoka -- coaches! It not only made the ride easier but it boosted our morale no small amount. It was a good beginning; perhaps conditions were better here.

            The camp had been constructed recently and was occupied by 600 American, English and, Dutch prisoners. They were not working on outside details at that time and many of them spent their days waiting on us.

            Most of our group being too weak to walk had to be carried from the train to the camp. We were placed in new huts in groups of 54 and given six kapock and cotton blankets. The huts were low and the floors flush with the ground; they were made of box wood and cardboard with sliding wood panels for doors and windows and there was no heat.

            Most of us slept double for added warmth, sticking our heads from under the blankets only to reach for our bowl of rice. We couldn't get warm and our weight couldn't gain. What food we received went for heat and it wasn't even enough for that.

            The second night there we were given one small Red Cross box for every three men. It helped but it was the first and only Red Cross box we saw in Japan. The camp had a warehouse of Red Cross medicine, wool clothing and other supplies but while our group was dying for the lack of them they remained in the warehouse.

            Dysentery was serious again as it had returned to most of us on the boat trip. But the new threat was pneumonia.

            The first month there the Japanese left us alone and let the camp personnel do what they could for us. After that the Japs took a hand in our welfare. They had some queer ideas about health and decided to add to our well being by seeing that our doors and windows were kept open from eight in the morning till four in the afternoon. Just to keep the huts aired out, I suppose, and give us fresh air.

            We remained in that camp three months. We had heard that we would stay there only until we were well enough for travel again.

            After two and a half months, I was able to get in a vertical position and walk about the camp. I did some work in the camp garden to regain some strength.

            We received some news of the war while in Japan, from smuggled papers. A week after we had arrived one of the men in camp came in with a paper and read the account of the Philippine landing. We learned that six days after we left Lingayen Gulf the Yanks had landed there. Later we heard of the landings on Iwo and Okinawa. They were coming fast and our hopes were high.

            Air raids started In our area late in April as the B-29s hit nearby objectives. They were a beautiful sight to us as they left their vapor trails in blue sky. To the Japanese they were terrifying they had been led to believe that their homeland was safe from attack.

            On April 26 the Japs marched us from camp; we were leaving but what was the destination?

            One hundred and thirty-nine of us left. Fifty-four small boxes' of ashes remained behind.

            One of the other groups that we left at the docks on arrival in Japan joined us and we learned from them about the other sections. Our percentage of deaths was the lowest; the other groups had lost about half and in the hospital group nearly all had died.

            The men remaining had a good chance of coming out alive now that the weather was warmer. If only the next camp was not too bad and if we did not have to see another winter as prisoners of the Japanese.'

            We marched to the docks at Fukouka and boarded a fast passenger ship which ran between Japan and Korea. We were going to Korea. At least we would be out of the combat zone.

            The trip across was made at night and we docked at Fusan on the southern tip of Korea, the following morning. Another train ride and we arrived at our new camp in Jinsen, Korea on the night of the 28th. This we knew would be our last camp, the worst was over. How much longer would we have to wait?

*O*

            Our new camp and the treatment we received there surprised us. For the first time during our imprisonment we were treated like human beings.

            There were only 178 men in the camp. A maintenance crew of 20 Englishmen were there when we arrived. For the first time we got along well together and with the Japanese. Our food ration was the smallest we had received in any camp but it was supplemented with one small Red Cross Box per man each month.

            We thought we were well off. There was work to do but this time under our own supervision. A small farm started by the previous tenants required maintenance. To give those of us who were still too weak for farming a chance to keep busy the Japs started a sewing detail. Cheap work garments made at a nearby factory came to us for finishing work.

            Early in the Philippines we were plagued with body lice: later the bed bugs took over and swarmed about the huts. When we reached Japans we renewed our acquaintance with the lice but were also introduced to fleas. The last month in Japan sleep was almost impossible and in Korea we found no relief from the jumping, sand fleas.

            In Korea we were completely cut off from news; the only thing we heard the first few months was that the ship which carried us to Korea was sunk on the return journey the following day. We had no rumors and we seldom discussed the possibilities -- just waited.

            On August 9 there was an air raid in Jinsen and that day and the next, an airfield nearby was bombed. We could see the planes the second day but could not identify them. On the eleventh we had our first news: the Russians were in the war against Japan and had landed in north Korea. (this from a Korean guard). I thought, "What could happen to us now?"

            On the afternoon of August 15, the Japanese officers and guards were seen huddled about their radio in headquarters. Something big was up and we wondered what could be so important. The next day a Korean guard let us in on the big news and the following morning the Japanese Commandant told us, officially, that the war was over.

            For three years and five months that was the day we had been looking forward to, the day we had struggled to live for: there it was. But we didn't celebrate or shout or do anything we hadn't done for the past few months. I had the feeling of a let-down. of having finished a tremendous job. The strain was over -- I had made It.

            Late in the month, B-29's came over on three successive days and dropped us supplies in 50- gallon drums. They were supposed to come down with chutes but they didn't! Our camp wasn't any wider than the wingspread of a B-29 and to say that we were bombed would be an understatement. One man had his leg badly broken when a drum fell on him but miraculously he was the only casualty. For the first time since the war started I was genuinely scared. We wanted food but we didn't want to be killed by it. They thought there were 2,000 men in our camp and dropped adequate supplies for that number. One hundred and seventy five men tried to eat it all but had to give up.

            Early in September a Japanese interpreter who had accompanied us from Fusan to Jinsen, on the move from Japan, came into camp and told one of the men this story: When the Russians landed in Korea the Interpreter from our camp was sent to Seoul, the capital and headquarters in Korea, to find out what was to be done with us. The Russians were expected to reach Jinsen on August 20. We were not to be retaken. We were to be shot on August 18.

            The Atomic Bomb had saved us by two days!

            On September 6 the Americans landed at Jinsen; while they were coming in we were going out. I thought that soon civilization, the United States and HOME would be something more than a memory or a dream.