Blood Brothers | Page 9

they had apparently been

stocking up on food for several months, getting ready for this day. They
shared their Christmas dinner with us-our last warm meal.
Because the mountains were so rugged, we decided that tile nurses
should remain with the Jorgensens to share their fate, along with
several American miners' wives, who were joining them-to sit out the
war.
The Jorgensens still had telephone service to their friends in Baguio.
From them, we learned that many of the Japanese civilian prisoners,
whom we had interned at Camp John Hay, when liberated by the
Japanese-army, were putting on uniforms, private to colonel, and
joining the occupying forces. The invading army had government
money, already printed, when they arrived. When the Jap soldiers
presented their "play" money to the Filipinos in order to buy food, the
natives laughed and said, "No good in this country!" They soon learned
that it was backed up by the full faith of the Japanese bayonet. There
were many tales of Japanese treachery.
Yet, the Japs pretended to be friendly to the Filipino. They would say,
"Look the color of our skin is the same! We promise
you early liberation from the Americans, and in the near future, we give
your country independence." The Japs turned their hospitality and
hostility on and off like a faucet.
The Japs insisted that the natives take off their big straw hats and bow
deeply each time they encountered a Japanese soldier. This was not the
Filipinos' idea of independence and freedom. They'd had it much better
with the Americans. We later learned that in most every barrio,
especially in Mindanao, a Japanese store owner put on a uniform, when
liberated, and took charge of the barrio.
Christmas evening, we were informed that Manila had been declared an
"open city." U.S. troops were actively moving toward Bataan and
Corregidor. We also heard that seven thousand Jap forces had made a
landing at Lamon Bay, east of Manila. Major General George Parker's
South Luzon Forces were opposing the landing. It was estimated that

the Japanese had an invasion force of more than 150,000 men in the
Philippines. Rumors were that "Help is on the Way."
Dec. 26, 1941: Telling the Jorgensens and their lady guests, "Many
thanks, and the best of luck," we hit the mountain trail, climbing steep
paths to high passes and then sliding down the other side. At night we
slept near streams and awakened soaked with dew. After several hours
of sunshine we would dry out. We quickly learned of some new
inconveniences: ants, spiders, tics, mosquitoes, and sunburn. We were
invited to sleep in native huts, but the smoke from their open fires was
so strong-burning our eyes-that we had to move outside.
In three days we had reached a small village in the valley, Aritao.
Overhead a Japanese plane was observing our activities. We decided to
push on to Balete Pass, where we located a quaint hotel nestled in the
mountains. Here we could get food and lodging. Up to this time we had
been paying for any services received, but now with the money running
low, we realized we'd have to exist on the mercy of the natives.
In the hotel we met the American owner of the Red Line Bus Co. of
Tuguegarao, who was taking his Filipino family to Manila in a big
open truck filled with his belongings. He had room for ten soldiers.
Dec. 29, 1941: Early in the morning, our group, sitting amid the
baggage in the back of the Red Line truck, was cruising down the
highway toward San Jose. A car with a Jap flag on top passed us going
north.
Shortly, the Jap car was back minus the Japanese flag on top. It came to
a screeching halt as our truck had the road blocked. For a few seconds
the Japs and our medics just stared at each other probably expecting
gunfire. Nothing happened! My unarmed medics had the Japs
surrounded! I had my .45 pistol, but knew if I reached for it, we'd all be
mowed down. Stepping forward, I motioned the Jap car into the ditch
and around the truck. They accepted the escape route; in a big hurry,
they were roaring down the road.
We thanked the Red Line Bus family for the lift and instructed them,

"Turn around and get back up in the mountains. Best of luck!"
My medics and I climbed down a steep bank to the east, crossed over a
wide, rocky, river bottom keeping our ten paces between men-and
entered a thick jungle. Within ten minutes, several Japanese tanks
rumbled to a stop on the road, where our truck had been parked, turned
their machine guns toward the jungles and sprayed the area. Bellies to
the earth, we waited and prayed