H-AGOM-LMerchant

Introduction

Leonard Merchant cropped from 1994 AGOM reunion photo

The following events did not happen in the order listed, but as recalled at this late date. The names are first names only, and then some may not be correct due to the fact that it happened some 45 years ago. This tale is true, even though I now wonder myself if it did actually take place. Some of you will no doubt wonder if I have stretched the truth. Do not doubt; strange things do happen. It is hard for those who have not had war time experience to realize that mother nature has her own ways of taking care of things.

1933 Sealy, TX to Panama Canal Zone

Let's take off in the life of one WW II enlisted man born March 9, 1914, in Sealy, Texas, who grew up in Austin. Joined the Army in 1933, Battery B, 12th Field Artillery, Fort Sam Houston, Texas. In 1935, sent to the Panama Canal Zone, 33rd Infantry, Company H, 4th Coast Artillery, Battery D and in 1936, to the 89th Quartermaster, Motor Repair Company.

1937 Sealy TX to Randolph Field TX to 19th BG March Field CA

In 1937, back home and trying civilian life (which did not take too well); no jobs and hard times. In October of 1939 I went to Randolph Field, Texas, and joined the 4th Air Base Group rebuilding engines then on to March Air Force Base (at that time it was March Field) with the 19th Bomb Group (Heavy) Headquarters & Headquarters Squadron.

Oct 1941 Albuquerque NM to Clark Field Philippines

The 19th Bomb Group was transferred to Albuquerque, New Mexico, and in October of 1941, to Clark Field in the Philippine Islands. After being told we would be home for Christmas (they did not say which one) we began to prepare for war. In November we dug fox holes, zigzag trenches, and gun mounts.

I was assigned to a new section within the squadron; telephones, I had training in field artillery and infantry, now we had to have our own telephones (Ma Bell was not in the Army at that time). Twelve men that other sections could do without were assigned to me; none had wire-splicing or pole-climbing experience. I showed them as I had been taught; taught them over and over again until they had it right. It was not long before others were asking to get into the section because we went to work at 0500 and quit at 1230 in order to beat the heat. We ate lunch and the rest of the day was spent swimming or sleeping, or doing what GIs do, goofing off. We got our work done and, after the work was done, we played. We were just a bunch of friends doing what we had to do. We played at work, we made a game of it and had fun. Remember, it was still peace time and we did not think a small nation such as Japan would dare to attack us.

But the start of war was upon us and we were the target of a small nation. Charles _____ made a statement that if the Japs did attack we would wipe their noses in it and send them home, saying we played harder than they fought. (I asked Charles in 1965 if he wanted to play with the Japs again and he said, "Hell, no!")

December 8, 1941, found the 19th Bomb Group, as it found other units of the U.S. armed forces -- unprepared. Not one unit thinking, "kill." Although we knew Pearl Harbor had been bombed and strafed and was in deep trouble, we did not realize that the same was in store of us that day also. We were bombed at about 1300, (1:00 pm)

When the Japanese bombers appeared, remarks were made, "look at that pretty formation -- a perfect flight of bombers that had just rolled off the assembly line, brand new shine and a big red ball on the side of each -- red ball hell, that's the enemy -- Japs!

By that time bombs were falling and the noise deafening. The sound of bombs bursting and the smell of cordite and burned powder -- the sound of shrapnel and of airplane parts flying through the air were not pleasant -- nor was the odor of burning flesh. The fighters came in, after the bombers were clear of the field, and strafed the barracks, the hangers, the B-17's, the buildings and the troops, the equipment, and anything that moved or looked like it would.

Aftermath of the first attack was a real eye opener. As a man with about five years of service and having been in the field artillery, infantry, coast artillery, quartermaster corps and now the Army Air Corps, I though I had a pretty good idea what war looked like; or I should say, what war was supposed to look like. Little did I know then that I would see continuous battle for the next three years and under the most trying of conditions. In the next three years there would be times when I could not move a leg or an arm, or even take a deep breath. To do so would have meant the end of my life. If I so much as coughed, moved a muscle or sneezed, the enemy would have noticed that I was hiding under the very log on which they were sitting. After they were gone, my muscles were so tight I had a hard time moving at all. It was necessary to move with caution (they might still be in the area) but move fast and be ready to fight at your best. It got to be second nature, to react to the slightest sound, shoot and look afterwards. It's strange what the body can be trained to do. Reaction to battle is to survive. You must react to the sounds around you and remember that there might be companions close by -- don't shoot your buddies! It was a place where no one wanted to be; but you were there, and you made do with what you had. Sometimes you were the only one there and it was up to you to get out of the way or you'd be pushing up daisies.

After 16 days at Clark Field, all military personnel were moved to Bataan and camped there. Let's go back to Clark; I missed some of the items that I want to talk about.

In wartime, you see or hear the unusual. Although you listen for it, there are funny things going on all the time. In a camp the size of Clark, health conditions [deteriourated] they would not have been condoned in a peace-time encampment.

The Dining Hall was an Open Mess (so to speak); every rank ate together and all ate the same thing. The tents were for storage, headquarters, and for officers. Enlisted men slept in the open or in shelter halves. So you would pick a buddy and put two halves together. That was home; on the ground, wet or dry, it was home for the night.

The bathroom was a trench dugout, called a straddle trench. That's what you did, you straddled it. Waste was covered by kicking dirt over it, and when it was half full, it was covered with the remaining dirt and another trench dug.

When an air raid was in progress you took cover, you got into the cover trenches that were dug for that purpose. The dirt that was removed from the trench was piled up on the side of the trench. When the bombs started to fall, you took cover. Some walked in and sat down with their heads below ground level, some ran and jumped in feet first, some were really in a hurry and dived in head first.

Once Howard ______ was a little late and dived into the wrong trench! When the raid was over, and after seeing that a bomb had fallen where he had been standing, he remarked, "I'd do it again if I had to! "

The padre was in a the trench with Richard _________ and a dud fell between them. It did not go off. Later the padre said, "The bomb hit and I slowly walked away -- at about 40 miles an hour!" Richard was close on his heels.

I was in the Army Exchange a few days after the war started. The power plant had been hit the first day, and the freezer in the exchange was not working. The doors had been blown off and I saw that the ice cream had started melting. Knowing that it would soon spoil, I took eight different flavors to the Mess Hall (the cooking area). The Commanding Officer, Bertram _______, said, "Where did you get that ice cream?" I answered truthfully. He asked if I had paid for it, and upon telling him no, he said I was stealing. Nevertheless, he had his mess kit out and helped himself. That was the last ice cream I saw for three years. On to Bataan.

Christmas Eve - Clark Field to Bataan

The move from Clark Field to Bataan was made the afternoon and night of 24 December 1941. Black-out driving was necessary on roads cut into the sides of hills along the rivers. There were canyons that dropped off 16 ft, some 2,000 ft -- and no guard rails! This was the first time over such roads for all of us. I rode a motorcycle and led the truck convoy. It was as dark as the inside of a drum. I rode with my feet turned outward so that I could feel the grass on the side of the road and tell where the road was! We made it -- we parked and camped for the night.

The next morning, after little sleep, we went looking for the mess hall. We had no food since breakfast at Clark. The military is said to move on it's stomach, that you must have something in the stomach or you cannot operate. Not so. We did -- and many times. Once I went for four days and nights without food of any kind and three of those days without water. (Try that for losing fat!)

We found out the Mess Hall operators had forgotten to take food along -- all they had was sourdough bread and cans of grape jelly. For Christmas dinner in 1941, the men had a slice of bread with a spoon of jelly that was leveled off flat with a knife.

When air planes were sighted but not headed in our direction, my group did not take cover, we continued to work. We did not camp with the squadron, we preferred to locate some distance away. I sent Tracy ____ and Charles ______ back to Aqua Aqua for a stove and rations for my men. They brought back a stove and supplies for a 100 man mess: canned ham, sweet potatoes, peas, creamed corn, bread and jelly, and fruit cocktail for dessert.

As we were eating, Bertram ____ came by. We asked him to join us. He wondered where we had obtained the food. I told him that we got it from the same placed the Mess Sergeant could have gotten it. He said, "Oh, never mind, you'll never starve!" He ate without another word, thanked us and left. I never heard another word about the deal. He came by and ate with us a time or two after that.

We got our gear straightened out and, after a good night's sleep we were ready to go to work. Major O'Donnell came by -- he was Group Commander for the camp. I asked him where to place the telephones. He said I would have to split my section in half. I was to load the truck and two motorcycles on board a ship at Marvialles.

Dec 30 1941 Bataan to Mindanao

We were headed south to Mindanao -- Del Monte Pineapple Plantation, tropical breezes, sandy beaches, good food, and lots of rain. On 30 December 1941, we sailed out of Manila Bay and headed south.

Half way to Mindanao, off the coast of Midoroa, we were laying up under some trees along the cove, hiding out, so to speak. We were spotted by a Jap flying boat. After a few passes and looking us over very carefully, it made three bombing runs on us, dropping bombs that buckled some of the hull in the stern of the ship. We lost one man when he dived overboard -- the bomb concussion killed him. After the plane left we went on to Mindanao, arriving at Buguo the first day of 1942.

We camped on a plateau in Bukednon by the Del Monte Pineapple Plantation. Later we moved to Camp 10, around a warehouse of canned pineapple juice. We cut through the floor and got canned juice and drank it instead of water. It gave us the runs and we were sick for a few days. Too much of a good thing is bad.

For the next few days we had nothing to do. We played cards and loafed around. It was the start of the rainy season and did it rain! After getting the phones strung out and the switchboard in order, we relaxed and watched the Japs make photo recon runs over us. No bombs or strafing, just pictures.

Up until this time it was not too bad. Time marched on with little to do. We did not get the new airplanes from the states [as expected], no shipments of anything came in. We were left out to dry. A few B17s came in and took some of the fly boys out to Australia. Later some B25s came; they also left for Australia.

The Japs threw the works at us on the first of May and in a few days we retreated to Malblaylay, Venlince, and Maramag. May 10, 1942, was a black day. The surrender was on and we were told we would surrender. I for one was not going to surrender. After talking to others, I found that I was not alone -- others had the same thoughts, [go] to the hills and fight the guerrilla warfare as long as possible. If we did, it was rumored we would be classed as deserters. I had taken an oath to defend my country against all enemies and to obey all officers appointed over me. It did not say to surrender. When I thought about it, if the officers surrendered, then I would not have to answer to them.

May 10 1942, Surrender or take to the Hills

Older men told me of the hard times we would face. The terrible natives that lived in the mountains, the jungle with big snakes, the sickness, the bad water -- the food would run out. They said if the natives did not kill us, the jungle would. I didn't believe them. I had been in the jungles of Panama and knew I could live off the land, at least for a few months. We did some planning and we were ready to leave.

On 10 May 1942, we were awakened about 0400 and told to surrender our guns and bullets. No way was I going to do that. I told the men who were sleeping in the area, to hold on to their guns, we would be called for formation. At the formation, I asked if we would be given a chance to go into the hills. The answer: "I cannot be everywhere at once." I asked if we would be able to take the guns and ammo with us. The answer: "I have not counted them." I asked if we would be able to get some medicine. The answer: "See the medics."

As the ranking man of the group planning to go into the hills, I went to the medics and asked for medicines and bandages. My request was refused. I could see this was not going to be easy, so I started taking what I wanted -- of course, the 45 in my hand helped. After getting the stuff together, we started out. I had a map of the island that showed rivers and mountains as well as unexplored areas. (These would be well explored later -- by us.)

13 choose Take to the Hills

We were 13 as we headed for Bislig Bay on the east coast of Mindanao. Boy were we in for some hard going! The first three hours of the hike were not too bad. We came to a flooded river, the Pelangia. We unloaded the 3/4 ton truck onto our backs and drove the truck into the river. We were really on our own two feet, so to speak.

As we passed the house of a native family, we were asked to rest and have lunch with them -- a free meal in the making. We were served rice and eggs. The first natives we ran into and they spoke English! This was the family of Santos Cudal, a family of 14, all of whom were teachers. (I later lived with them for four months -- they saved my life.)

We continued on our trek heading east. I was leading when, about 15OO hours we met a patrol of Philippine scouts -- we told them that the surrender was on. They were headed down to get rations for the encampment at Numnum on the Tigue River, about two day's hike from where we were. We stayed that night on the river and the 2nd lieutenant asked us to accompany him back to his encampment.

When we arrived the next day we were greeted by two Americans who had been there for three days. The lieutenant in charge asked me what we should do. After discussion we decided to split up the bolts, guns, and ammo, bury them that night, and to release the men from service to go home, to surrender, or make it on their own. This was done.

[Was this the remaining weapons on Mindanao or were there also other forces?]

Another family who spoke English was growing rice, corn, and other food. They asked us to stay with them for a while. The natives built us a lean-to for shelter and a place to sleep -- we camped out in the hills of Mindanao. It did not take long for us to go through the food we had brought, making it necessary for us to live off the land and the natives. You should have seen the food. We had bananas, jack fruit, mangoes, papayas, guavas, comotes (like sweet potatoes), wild onions and tomatoes, along with wild pig, dog deer, wild chickens, and game cocks. With all the evacuees and our group of 15 bodies eating off the land, the food supply depleted in a hurry. We were not the only ones getting away from the Japs.

Charles ____, Dick _____, and Henry ______ surrendered. (They made it home in 1945.) Stewart ____ and Frank _____ left to try it on their own. The group was down to 10. Others left, leaving only five. Tracy ____ and I were asked to live with a local family who had 19 people living in one big room. That left Walter ____, Tony ____, and Erling _____ to live by themselves. The natives who had come from the towns moved on also.

There was less and less food, but so were our requirements; eventually the number of people was compatible with what the land could support.

After living with the Banagws for three months, I contacted malaria fever again. I was weak and lost so much weight I was not able to care for myself. (I was 208 pounds when the war started and at this time weighed about 160.) The family loaded everyone on bamboo rafts and down the river we went. I was on one by myself and they were on a larger one. While rounding a bend in the river, my raft got stuck on the bank and I could not free it my myself. The other raft passed me and went on down the river. I was stuck there for some time and it was starting to get dark. I heard a noise on the bluff and called out. A small child looked down and saw me and reported to others that an American was down in the river. The child's brothers and sister came and freed the raft and led me around to the lower bank. They put me on a caribou cart and took me to the home of Santos Cudal. I had malaria, dysentery, and black fever. I weighed about 100 pounds and it was not long until I was down to about 85 pounds. I was unable to walk and I could only crawl for a few feet. I thought I would surely die in the hills of the Philippines.

But the Cudals gave me different kinds of native medicines. I would drink burned rice, powdered to make a thick mush and it took care of the dysentery. A hot liquid of some kind broke the black fever. They took the bark from the senconua (quinine) tree, beat it to a pulp and made it into tea. I had to drink it four times a day but it took care of the chills and broke the malaria fever. With good food and loving care, I was soon on my way back to health. I weighed about 110 pounds, fighting weight, but I felt good and even helped round up some water buffalo and we had meat in camp.

Speaking of meat, one day on the Tigue River I was asked to shoot a wild cock, a pretty bird, red and black, with a huge comb. I had not used a gun for a long time and did not want to shoot and miss the bird, so I said we needed to save the bullets for the Japs. The thought of having meat in camp encouraged me to try. I pulled out the pistol, and at a distance of about 50 feet, I fired and blew the cock's head off. The boys ran and got it. Later the natives all said not to fool around with me, or I would blow their head off. Word soon got around that the Texan could really shoot; something that I was later to regret. But that's another story.

One day, after staying with the Cudals and getting my strength back, I was talking to the family down by the river and we saw a Jap patrol. I was trapped. If I fought they would not only kill me but they would also kill the Cudals. We stayed where we were and the Japs came to us. A Filipino was leading them, and as the two Japs could not speak English, the native had to do the talking in Monobo, the native tongue. They talked so the Japs could not understand what was being said. I could understand some of it, but not all. I just kept quiet. Then he asked to see my pistol. I thought this was the end of the line. I unloaded the gun and handed it to him. He looked at the barrel and smelled it. I had not used it for a while and there was no powder smell. He handed it back to me and asked if I was on my way to surrender. I told him no, I was hunting medicine for my sick friend in the mountains and that I was leaving for the hills now. He talked to the Japs and they left me standing there. I was speechless. Needless to say I left the area at once.

Back to the Tigue River. A native school teacher (he had a short leg) overtook me on the trail and asked me to his home. I stayed three weeks with him and then went back to the Palongia River, upstream.

I heard a rumor that there were Americans living about three day's hike. I arrived at the small town by the river. Yes, Americans were near, but well hidden. After having food and corn coffee, I was led to the Americans. They turned out to be from my old squadron, the 19th Bomb Group. We stayed together for a while and heard, by the grapevine, that guerrilla warfare had started down on the highway. We took off for the highway and found the rumor to be true. [What month was this?]

A Moro, Pendwn by name, a Datu (leader) of the Moro Tribe, had killed a few Japs and taken control of a few towns and highway. Joining with a man of this type was a new way of life for all of us Americans. A Moro will not eat pork and will only eat with his left hand because he cleans himself with his right hand. A Moro is Mohammed and as a rule will not talk to a Christian. I have never seen a left-handed Moro. Pendtwn had a chief of staff who was a Mestio, a half breed. He was part Philippine, part American. When he was introduced to us in the Mess Hall, he remarked that he was ashamed of the American blood that flowed in his veins. When he said that, I was ready to kill him, but Ken hit my arm and that would have ruined the shot. He lived, but he knew that his days were numbered.

Later he had me report to him after I had been in the guerrilla hospital. I had stepped on a poison bamboo sliver on the trail and a native doctor had treated it with herbs and hot water. It took about two weeks to get the poison out of my system and the swelling down enough to walk. When I went back to the duty area, which was the Motor Pool, he asked where I had been. I told him not to question my whereabouts, that I was an American and proud of it. His bodyguards had stepped in back of me and were holding guns to my back. When I objected to such treatment, he had his men take my gun and put me in jail.

A few days later, when word got to Pendtwn, he had me released and I was assigned to work with the native chaplain. I found my old motorcycle and sidecar in the hills; I brought it down and got it running. The chaplain had me take him to the hospital and other places. Often he would call me and then keep me waiting in the area for him, only to come tell me he was sorry, but was not going anywhere after all. This got to be a pain in the rear end and after it happened a few times, I thought it was their way of punishing me.

I told Fred that I knew of a place about three days away where we could join up with an American colonel and be with our own kind. So he and I loaded up the sidecar and hit the road. We only rode for about 15 miles and again the river stopped us. We left the motorcycle and hit the trail on foot. Near dark we saw a bamboo shack and when we climbed the ladder to the house we found an elderly woman. She asked us to enter. She cooked us eggs and rice and we stayed all night. The next morning we ate breakfast of more rice and eggs and left. Two days later we were in Talakag, reporting to Col. Bowler. [What month was this, was this your first teaming up with other american forces?]

I was assigned to getting trucks and engines running and making alcohol from the tuba juice of the coconut tree blossom. The natives climbed the trees, cut the blooms that would have been coconuts, and caught the juice. When the juice is about ten hours old it is sweet and, if you can stand the smell, it will make you drunk. If left too long, it will turn to vinegar. After 24 hours it can be distilled to make alcohol; it is strong enough to burn in place of gasoline. We had to modify the carburetor jets to use the coconut juice and soon had the trucks and busses running. A generator that charged our batteries for radios, powered a gristmill for grinding corn meal. We used the coconut oil for crankcase oil and anything that needed oiling. We later found that we could distill the oil to a finer degree and use it as diesel fuel; but you had to keep the engine warm all the time or the oil would solidify and then you would have to build a fire around the engine to turn the coconut oil back to a liquid.

Later, after Col. Grinstead took command of the area and Col. Bowler had been promoted, I worked to build a water wheel that turned a car generator to charge the batteries, saving fuel for other trucks. I also helped to build a dam that could pipe water to the town through bamboo poles. Sections were burned out of the bamboo to form a pipe. It was also used to clean the house's, relieving natives from having to carry water from the river to the house. We had a clean town.

Grinstead asked me to go to the beach and make salt. It was a two-day hike to the beach and it would take a few more days to make the salt. We put the sea water into bamboo poles that had been split open and laid on the beach. The sun dried the water and left the salt. The salt was poured into a pot and boiled dry. This process caused the salt to form a hard disk and we wrapped it in banana leaves. When we had a sufficient number of disks, they were tied in a basket and loaded on a water buffalo.

One day, while putting sea water in the pole, I looked up and stared into the barrel of a Japanese rifle. The Japs had been on patrol, saw me, and approached before I knew it. I was a prisoner of war. The Japanese officer assigned two of his men to take me to the town of Cagegan, a two-day hike.

As we walked along the road, I thought, now what the hell, if I let them get me into prison camp, I would be tortured, beaten, and beheaded. Why not make a break for it. By slowing my steps and letting the rear guard catch up to me, I could time it right and get his rifle, put him off guard, knock him out, and shoot the one in front before he knew what happened. It was this, or go down without a fight. After a few times of slowing down and having the rear guard poke me with his rifle, I reached behind and caught the barrel and pulled it hard. It caused him to fall. I had his rifle, I shot him and then shot the other Jap who was about 50 feet in front of me. I got my gear and pistol from him and took off for the jungle. Needless to say, I did not stay in that area.

I made tracks back to the hills. After two days, and meeting new natives, I found out that the patrol had returned to the city and left the area. I went back to making salt. When I returned to Talakag I had about 50 pounds of salt. The salt was given to the people of the area in return for the rice and corn we ate.

Having been commissioned a 2nd lieutenant and assigned the job of transportation and repair officer, I kept the trucks and engines going. [Was this a field commission by Grinstead?] I was not asked to make more salt.

In October of 1942, I was asked by Grinstead to take a fellow American to headquarters so he could be sent to Australia via submarine. The American had been drinking tuba excessively and chasing women, and he had caught a few of them. We went to the area where I had been with the guerrillas at the beach and talked with them. I got two young men to take us by boat across the bay to the headquarters area. The American and I laid down in the boat and banana leaves and rice was thrown over us. Just our faces were uncovered. We went 16 miles across the bay by manpower and paddle. We passed a patrol boat with Japs and natives in them and even called out to them that we were headed for the far side of the bay. After about three hours, we reached shore. We got out of the boat and the men headed back home.

We walked down the road as we would have done at home. After about a mile something told me to hit the jungle. We did, but it was too late. The Japanese patrol had seen us and opened up with machine guns and rifles. I was hit in both legs, but Leo was okay. We stayed in the jungle and made good time. We broke free after about three hours of hiding in the deep brush. We stayed until morning and at daybreak, we saw a native boy about 11 or 12, and called to him. He pretended he did not hear us and went on his way. This told me that we were not in friendly country. After waiting about 30 minutes, we started to head back to the road but the boy called to us that the area was full of Japanese, for us to stay put, we were in a good hiding place. So we waited until dark and the boy came closer and started singing a song, "Stay down and don't move till I come home." What the hell. I didn't make sense at first, but after thinking about what he was singing, it was good sense. After dark he called and said that the Japs had left. He took us to a shack, it was his home. He told his mother that we were hungry and that he had told us to stay hidden. She said that he was very brave and that he would lead us to the Americans in the next town. By this time my legs were hurting and I was afraid of infection. The boy's mother bathed my legs in hot soapy water and put coconut oil on them -- no medicine. After two days we went on to the town and met with Clyde Abbott; from there we went by sailboat to headquarters and reported to the commanding officer, Col. W. W. Fertig.

The doctor cleansed my wounds once again, he put salve on them, and bandaged them. He said not get them wet for two days. When I removed the bandages, a hard crust had formed and the wounds were sealed over. I never had any trouble with them.

After reporting in, I was asked if I would stay and take over transportation. That very month we unloaded 40m tons of supplies from the sub Narwhal. This was done at a pier under lights with a 30-piece [Philippino] band [dressed in white suits] playing. The crew of the sub thought we were crazy, but we were able to outwit the Japs -- and, it was fun. I ate bread and butter on the sub and had to rush top side to heave. My stomach was not used to the rich food -- but, I went back and ate some more. It was like cake to me. The crew of the sub gave us anything we wanted. We were just thankful that they would take a trip of this sort to bring us supplies.

This group of Americans were from all branches of service: the Air Corps (Army, at that time), Army, Marines, Navy, and some civilians. We had just about anything that could be called a trade, or in military terms, a specialty. Oh yes, I must not leave out the Corps of Engineers. We made bullets from brass curtain rods and used blasting powder for the charge. We blew up a few guns before we found the right amount for the casings. We saved all the shell casings and reloaded them, using match heads for caps. We dismantled bombs for the powder that was in them And dynamite from the mines until we got in a fresh supply by sub. We built boats -- from row boats to 40 footers. We recovered bunker fuel from the S.S. Moyon, the boat that we used to leave Bataan. Gas and oil was given to us by the subs. The subs even brought boats that were sealed against the hull of the sub. The sub brought us medicine, ammunition, guns, pistols, machine guns, one inch cannons, radio equipment, batteries, some uniforms, jungle boots, and hammocks. Hammocks were death traps in fighting areas, although they did a good job of fighting off the insects. We were used to the insects after sleeping on the ground for any length of time. They brought some candy and canned goods, some newspapers, magazines, and cameras. Why the cameras, I don't know. Cigarettes and tobacco were brought in and used in trading for food with the natives.

We did not need beer or whiskey, as we made our own -- we had tuba, wine, pungnasae, basase, and rice wine that would really get you wound up if you didn't use it wisely. We ate monkey, snake, water buffalo, wild boar and pig, wild birds, and fish if we could get them. The food was plentiful, but we missed a lot of meals. Sometimes we ate dry corn for all three meals. When rations were low we got down to two and sometimes one meal a day and, of course, there were days when we dreamed of food but did not have any. We lost weight that was hard to replace and we lost strength with it.

We tied bombs to water buffalo and headed them in the direction of the Japanese barracks. We made cannons out of three inch water pipes and used black powder and broken bits of cast iron, bolts, nuts, and rocks for the shrapnel. It worked. Anything we could use against the Japs was legal as far as we were concerned. When we got plastic explosives, and after we learned to use them, the natives would take the plastic and fuses and swim out at night and attach them to hulls of ships that were tied to the docks. The charges were placed against the hull well below the water line and it would blow a hole in the hull, sinking the vessel. At one time, the Japs had four sinking ships that had been tied to the dock in a row. The natives were brave and took big chances to get even with the Japanese. The Filipinos went to great lengths to safeguard the Americans while, at times, jeopardizing the safety of their own families. Natives of the Philippines did not want rewards for helping the Americans who refused to surrender, they just wanted help in killing the Japanese. They wanted to be shown how to make gun powder, how to shoot a gun, and how to ambush from a trail. Ambush, however, was one thing the natives could do better than the Americans -- the Moros were the best.

Some other things that come to mind ...

During the time on the Tigue River when I was with the Baganaw family shortly after the surrender (when the army had buried the guns and ammunition), a native Manabo woman came running into camp saying "Nippon su Namnam." She was excited and out of breath and said it over and over. We could hear the rifles and shouting going on and the family thought it was the Japs. We left in a hurry and moved further up river. After three days the area was quiet, the shooting had stopped. We checked out the situation and found that the Manabo had dug up the guns and ammo. They didn't know how to line up the sights, but one of the younger men had been in the Philippine Army and taught them how. They became very good at shooting but by that time the ammunition was running low and they used the guns only for hunting. While they had ammo it was not safe to walk around the area. As it was, every so often a stray bullet would whistle through the forest and we did not know who it was meant for.

The woman who ran into camp that day was wearing only a piece of cloth wrapped around her hips. Her breasts were flopping up and hitting her in the face and her mouth was red from chewing beetle nut. She was breathless from running and trying to show she has excited so that we would leave the area. They wanted to get the guns and ammunition that the army had buried. It was a sight!

Tracy _____ was with me during the events of this story. Now everyone wonders why, when we greet each other we say, "Nippon su Namnam! "

After about two months, the food was not so plentiful, the rice and corn were not growing to keep up with the demand. A deluge of grasshoppers hit us just when the rice was about ready to be harvested. Grasshoppers blocked out the sun, they covered everything that was edible. They covered our beds and floors. In three days it looked like bare ground that had never been planted. Food was brought in from other areas. That was the beginning of the end for that particular area.

After I left Pendtem and joined Col. Bowler, I was called to the command post and told that Col. Andrews [what was the problem with Andrews??] had asked that I be disarmed while he passed through the area. (In 1974, at a reunion in Seattle, Col. Bowler told this to me.) Bowler let me meet him at headquarters and I had him stack his arms. The ammo was put in a box and was placed on a bus. We loaded the whole she bang and took them through Talakag and down to the ferry and unloaded them as fast as we could. Andrews never got a chance to shoot me from ambush. He was later sent to another island and our paths never crossed again.

I learned how to play mah-jongg in the islands. I also learned the native language fairly well although some of the first words were taught on the fun side. I would be told to say a few words and told that they meant one thing when actually they meant something else. One evening, while playing mah-jongg with a man and his wife and sister, I let out a phrase that I had been told meant shucks, or damn. To my surprise, the man of the house was ready to shoot me right then and there. I had said very bad words in the presence of his wife and sister. At first I did not know what had set him off. I told him that I only meant to say that I needed a certain piece or card and thought I was not going to get it. All of the others spoke English, but I was trying to use my newly learned knowledge of the native tongue. I never used those words again.

Living the life of a guerrilla was rough, but never as rough as the POWs had it. Returning to the trail from a trip when we were trying to locate buried cans of gas, I passed within 500 yards of the Casishng POW Camp. With the help of a BC scope of 50 power, I was able to see some of my imprisoned friends. Later I sent a letter into the camp offering to help, if any of my friends wanted to try to escape. I went into detail of how and where to meet; it did not work. One of the Americans got word of it and he led a patrol of Japs out to the area where we were supposed to meet. There were 12 in our group and about 50 well-armed Japanese soldiers were being led to our meeting place. We did not make contact!

When fighting behind the lines, you had to realize that if you were caught they knew you were a spy, a saboteur, or whatever, and your head would be cut off. After they beat the daylights out of you and questioned you until they thought they had the truth, you would be beheaded. It would take place in front of the villagers - - the enemy liked to show how they treated people who fought from the hills. This was always in the back of your mind. You lived with it at all times.

We had to realize that we were constantly on the spot. We had to be very careful. After a while we would hear things that would not normally be heard. A careful step. A twig snapped. Then there was pure instinct. We didn't get jumpy, we got careful. We lived by our wits.

It got so that I would wake up if someone walked very softly; but if they made a lot of noise, it didn't bother me. I slept in a native hut one night, and the man of the house tried to remove the gun from my hand while he thought I was asleep. When he touched the gun, I pulled the trigger. He never tried that again. I stayed at his house three more weeks. He had respect for me and knew that I would shoot him if he tried it again. Living with the natives in the mountains was not like living with people who were wise to the American way of life. The natives have respect for you and will try to talk you out of a gun, but not try to disarm you. At least none tried it on me.

The human body can take a lot of abuse -- little food, water, and rest. The food we had was edible at times; other times not palatable. Once we drank water from a stream; it was clear and good tasting. About 100 yards upstream, partly around the bend, we found a bloated, dead horse lying in the stream with blow flies and maggots galore. We lost what we had eaten a short time before.

Muddy water can be very tasty if you have not had water for two days. If you take the time to boil it, the muck will settle, and the water will be clear and drinkable.

Food was sometimes a bit hard to stomach. A monkey that has been drawn and cleaned looks like a human, and if roasted on a spit, it looks even more human, as though someone were burned alive. It is good eating, though a bit tough. Water buffalo is also tough and it must be roasted well; it is more crisp than tough. Game chicken and wild pigs are very good; but the deer that bark like dogs are not so good -- the meat was stringy to me. Horn-bill birds are about as tough as you can get and still be able to eat it. I boiled a few for a whole day and they were still not tender. Snakes are good and taste somewhat like chicken. When I had a few of them it was a treat.

When we heard of a wedding to take place 50 miles or so down the trail, off we would go. We knew that food would be plentiful and at least two days of eating would hold you over until the next big party. The Americans were always welcome; it was an honor for them to have you stop by and eat.

It was a little risky to live with the Moros; they did not take to the Christian way of life. But if you knew a Datu, that was different. If the Datu liked you, it was okay to stay with his friends; but it was not okay to even look at the women. Stay clear of them. The men are real fighters and will try to outwit you on everything. It is best to leave them alone and have nothing to do with them. If it is necessary to deal with them, it is best to use rough language and act tough, then they respect you. If you live their way of life and have respect for their customs, everything is okay.

When living with the natives, it was important to do things their way and not tell them that they were doing things wrong. It was accepted practice that the natives relieved themselves of bodily wastes when and where they were. When we were first with the group, we did the same; but the next day we would dig a trench, use it, and cover it with dirt. When the trench was full we moved to a new location. The natives saw that the flies were not as bad, and they started doing the same thing; they even showed it to other natives.

By draining small water holes along a stream where the mosquitoes were hatched, we got rid of most of the insects.

With sign language, we would tell them what we would do and also show them. Then they could understand. They also liked us for showing them a better way of life. Had we told them to do it our way, "no non non." That would never make friends.

Carrying water some distance in a bamboo tube was the native way. To make it easier, I made a trough of bamboo tubes split in half. I cut the divider out, overlapped the ends, and let it slant a little. This brought a stream of water to the house and was a boon for the women.

You can live in the jungle if you are able to hunt and find fruit that grows in the area. You have to learn, as we did, about edible things that are at your feet. I did not know that a vine growing in the trees carried drinkable water -- I went thirsty for days trying to find water. You have to learn that anything a monkey eats is okay for a human to eat. You also learned that although some of the things you ate did not taste good, they were good for you and you could survive on it. Mud cat fish tastes like mud and looks like mud even after you cook it; but it fills the belly. Comote is somewhat like sweet potatoes, only stringier and not as sweet. Bread fruit that grows in trees can be eaten raw or cooked -- somewhat seedy and bitter at first, but you can get used to it. Bamboo shoots, young and tender, taste like crisp turnips when raw; they can be cooked also.

There are a lot of ways to eat coconut: raw, boiled, fried, roasted, you name it -- it's good. I liked to make breakfast of it. First you open the eye and save the milk. Grate the meat and cook it to a golden brown in a skillet. Save the oil that comes out of the coconut meat for later use. Put the cooked meat into the coconut shell without the holes and pour on the milk. Presto, breakfast cereal. It was not Post Toasties, but very good, and good for you. Now for the oil. Use it to keep your guns oiled and to prevent rust; to oil your boots or anything that needs oiling. It also helps sores to heal and can be used to fry eggs, bananas, or anything else you would fry.

Cooking rice is easy. If you don't have a pot, don't worry. Use a green bamboo tube. Cut off one closed end and put in rice and water. Set the tube in the fire and when the rice is boiling in the tube watch it carefully. When the green bamboo tube starts to burn remove it from the fire. Let the rice steam for a while. To eat, just slit the bamboo tube down lengthwise and eat from the tube. It's hot and, if you had a few wild onions to put in when you started, you will enjoy. Corn can be cooked the same way or roasted in the shuck.

Comotes are best boiled in water. Put some of the comote leaves in the boiling water and have a vegetable. The curl part of fern tips are also good veges, raw or boiled. Boiling food is the best way to cook in the jungle.

Monkey meat can be roasted or boiled. It is tough but, again, it is filling. Snakes, oh boy, what a fine meal they make. A boa or a python, what's the difference -- not much. They are both good, but I prefer the python. The meat is white and not too sweet. Toast over an open fire on a stick. Again, a little coconut oil is fine.

Grasshoppers boiled in water with a little ginger root makes a fine meal. They were plentiful on the Tigue River in 1942 and they were good. Sounds like a wonderful dish in a high price restaurant in France; actually it was the Philippines in 1942.

Termites that crawl out of the wood are roasted on a stick and they pop like popcorn. Taste something like popcorn, too.

A wild chicken or game cock is good. Just draw it and wash it out. Fill the cavity with rice, ginger root, and wild onion, and rub mud in it's feathers until you have a mud ball. Dig a hole and build a fire in it. Yes, put the mud ball on top of the live coals and build a fire on top. After about four hours, remove the top fire, ashes, and mud ball. Break open the mud ball, the feathers and skin will come off and leave a nice baked chicken. Remove the rice and enjoy.

Hard corn -- crack the corn between two rocks, it will cook better. Do this in a bamboo tube or, if you are lucky enough to have a five-gallon gas or oil can use that. Put it in the open fire and stir at it a few times while cooking. Again, a wild onion or bamboo shoot is good with it.

There are many things that you can eat if you are hungry enough, but it is best if you eat them before you are too weak to be able to find and prepare them. Fresh fruit is available most of the time -- bananas, papayas, guavas, jack fruit, mangos, avocados, bread fruit. Some things may not sound good, but a hungry stomach does not know it. Eat to live.