The Lost Child of Wwii: My Life During the Great War

By Leonida Clarete Watson

Let me take you back to the earliest childhood memory that I have of my father. Growing up in the province of Pampanga, just outside of the city of Porac, we didnt have a lot of money. We lived in a small village just south of the province in a small hut. Like many families back then, we made do with what we had and struggled just to get by like everyone else at that time. My father was in the Philippine Army, and he would be gone for weeks at a time, sometimes months at a time. But I always knew when he returned home because I would awake to a bunch of grapes on my pillow. I would smile as I awoke and whisper, Daddys home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 28, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543439830

Book preview

Copyright © 2017 by Leonida Clarete-Watson.

Library of Congress Control Number:         2017911695

ISBN:                  Hardcover                             978-1-5434-3981-6

                             Softcover                               978-1-5434-3982-3

                             eBook                                    978-1-5434-3983-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Rev. date: 07/25/2017

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 1

I love family reunions. I look forward to them every year. I think it’s because I love being surrounded by family—the laughter and chaos that only the closeness of a family can produce, filling the house with echoes of my children and now with my children’s children as they energetically scamper from room to room producing piercing screams and laughter as they play. My heart fills with happiness and delight as I sit back and watch silently, soaking in the blessings God has bestowed on me.

But at night, as I sit at my dining room table drinking my hot tea and when all the little ones are down in a deep sleep, exhausted from the long day of play, and the house becomes still and quiet, my mind takes me back to the horrible days of my past. I try to shake the feeling and desperately try to focus on what I have today—my lovely home, my family, and my loving husband—but it’s part of me, and it has made me the strong, confident woman I am today. I ultimately give in and relive the pain of my own childhood.

My name is Leonida, but people just call me Nida. I grew up in the Philippines during the great war of my time. I had a loving father who adored me. He was my protector and teacher. He was my rock, my hero, my father. He made me feel safe, and he shaped me into the person I am today. Without his love and teachings of what is right, I strongly believe that I wouldn’t have what I have today. I may be overstating him a bit; my last memory of him was when I was only four years old, yet even at that young of an age, he captivated my imagination with his stories. I remember walking with him when I was even younger; I guess my earliest memory was from when I was as young as two years old. He was my inspiration and my hope, and he was taken from me when I was just four years old. I watched with tears in my eyes as he was killed at the hands of the Japanese for safeguarding some Americans by hiding them in a cave. I will never forget his last words to me. "Be strong,