Blood Brothers | Page 9

Japs insisted that the natives take off their big straw hats and bow deeply each time they encountered a Japanese soldier. This was not the Filipinos' idea of independence and freedom. They'd had it much better with the Americans. We later learned that in most every barrio, especially in Mindanao, a Japanese store owner put on a uniform, when liberated, and took charge of the barrio.
Christmas evening, we were informed that Manila had been declared an "open city." U.S. troops were actively moving toward Bataan and Corregidor. We also heard that seven thousand Jap forces had made a landing at Lamon Bay, east of Manila. Major General George Parker's South Luzon Forces were opposing the landing. It was estimated that the Japanese had an invasion force of more than 150,000 men in the Philippines. Rumors were that "Help is on the Way."
Dec. 26, 1941: Telling the Jorgensens and their lady guests, "Many thanks, and the best of luck," we hit the mountain trail, climbing steep paths to high passes and then sliding down the other side. At night we slept near streams and awakened soaked with dew. After several hours of sunshine we would dry out. We quickly learned of some new inconveniences: ants, spiders, tics, mosquitoes, and sunburn. We were invited to sleep in native huts, but the smoke from their open fires was so strong-burning our eyes-that we had to move outside.
In three days we had reached a small village in the valley, Aritao. Overhead a Japanese plane was observing our activities. We decided to push on to Balete Pass, where we located a quaint hotel nestled in the mountains. Here we could get food and lodging. Up to this time we had been paying for any services received, but now with the money running low, we realized we'd have to exist on the mercy of the natives.
In the hotel we met the American owner of the Red Line Bus Co. of Tuguegarao, who was taking his Filipino family to Manila in a big open truck filled with his belongings. He had room for ten soldiers.
Dec. 29, 1941: Early in the morning, our group, sitting amid the baggage in the back of the Red Line truck, was cruising down the highway toward San Jose. A car with a Jap flag on top passed us going north.
Shortly, the Jap car was back minus the Japanese flag on top. It came to a screeching halt as our truck had the road blocked. For a few seconds the Japs and our medics just stared at each other probably expecting gunfire. Nothing happened! My unarmed medics had the Japs surrounded! I had my .45 pistol, but knew if I reached for it, we'd all be mowed down. Stepping forward, I motioned the Jap car into the ditch and around the truck. They accepted the escape route; in a big hurry, they were roaring down the road.
We thanked the Red Line Bus family for the lift and instructed them, "Turn around and get back up in the mountains. Best of luck!"
My medics and I climbed down a steep bank to the east, crossed over a wide, rocky, river bottom keeping our ten paces between men-and entered a thick jungle. Within ten minutes, several Japanese tanks rumbled to a stop on the road, where our truck had been parked, turned their machine guns toward the jungles and sprayed the area. Bellies to the earth, we waited and prayed as the bullets slashed through the forests. We continued to hug the ground for several hours until we were sure the Japs had departed.
We moved deeper into the dense jungle, up an old trail. Suddenly, we could hear crackling footsteps all around us we were surrounded! We froze! I reached for my .45, hoping to get one of them before they got us. Thirty pairs of eyes were focused on us. Large monkeys! As startled as we were, they scampered off, chattering to themselves. I examined my .45; the clip was gone; there was just one bullet left-the one in the chamber. I would save that for myself if things got really bad.
We continued on up the trail to the top of a mountain, where we could get a good view of the central plain below. San Jose was in flames. Across the valley, Clark Field was burning fiercely; two large columns of dense black smoke from oil fires. There were also fires at Cabanatuan, Manila and Cavite.
General Wainwright's withdrawing North Luzon Forces had blown many bridges on their way south to Bataan. It was very evident that the enemy occupied most of the central plain-and was apparently harassing the natives. Many of the Filipino homes were in flames.
Toward evening, we sent a disguised medic back down the trail to find a Filipino home and make