The Unsurrendered

By Joyce Shaughnessy

The voices in this book are those of the 260,000 Filipino and American men and women who made up the partisan group called The Unsurrendered in the Philippines during WWII. This historical romantic novel revolves around guerrillas who fight to bring the American Army to victory in 1945.
Jacob, an American secret agent, and Carla, a Filipina, join other partisans in 1941 to fight behind Japanese lines.

The American forces capture the Philippine Islands after the Japanese destruction of Manila. In Manilas sprawling ruins lay the bodies of more than 100,000 Filipinos who were massacred at the hands of Japanese soldiers. It is estimated that one out of twenty Filipino citizens died during the Japanese occupation.

The Unsurrendered is the last book in a trilogy called The Pearl of the Orient. The first is A Healing Place, and the second is Blessed Are the Merciful, Our Forgotten Soldiers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781479761746

Joyce Shaughnessy

Joyce Shaughnessy lives in Midland, Texas with her husband, Dennis, a physician, and a cocker spaniel. They have two married daughters and four granddaughters. Joyce is a lover of all things Filipino and WWWII. They own a large library of books, both classic and contemporary.

Book preview

THE UNSURRENDERED

Joyce Shaughnessy

Copyright © 2013 by Joyce Shaughnessy.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2012923053

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4797-6173-9

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4797-6172-2

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4797-6174-6

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.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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Contents

Chapter One      Amando

Chapter Two      Carla

Chapter Three      Jacob

Chapter Four      War

Chapter Five      Carla and Jacob

Chapter Six      Corregidor

Chapter Seven      The Swordfish

Chapter Eight      The Unsurrendered

Chapter Nine      The Resistance

Chapter Ten      Fertig

Chapter Eleven      Spyron

Chapter Twelve      Trapped

Chapter Thirteen      The Journey

Chapter Fourteen      Fort Santiago

Chapter Fifteen      Luis

Chapter Sixteen      Philippine Regional Section

Chapter Seventeen      Ray Hunt’s Guerrillas

Chapter Eighteen      Macarthur Returns

Chapter Nineteen      The Drive to Manila

Chapter Twenty      Tragedy in Manila

Chapter Twenty-One      Manila Massacre

Chapter Twenty-Two      A New Home

Notes

References

FOREWORD

The Unsurrendered revolves around an American secret agent and the Filipina who loves him. Actual historical figures are also represented, and I have endeavored to remain true to the nature of those individuals in the portrayal of their actions, thoughts, and conversations.

I chose to write about WWII specifically in the Philippines because it is a symbol of both tragedy and hope in the heroic human spirit. That heroism is embodied by the two hundred sixty thousand Filipino-American women and men who fought in the Philippines behind Japanese lines.

This story is not intended as an indictment of today’s Japan or the Japanese people. The historical events represented are true. As much as we would like to rewrite history, it is foolhardy to do so. Mankind must never forget the implications and tragedies that warfare brings to all of us no matter the perpetrator. I hope that I have represented the catastrophe which happens in war, both in the lives lost and families displaced.

The Unsurrendered is an historical romance novel. It is the third in a series presented as a trilogy, The Pearl of the Orient. The first two books are A Healing Place and Blessed Are the Merciful, Our Forgotten Soldiers. Each can be read separately or as part of the trilogy.

Living in a world free of war may seem an impossible task, but I believe that the way we choose to lead each of our own lives should be with love, honor, and faith. My hope is that the reader will recognize this recurring theme in all three books.

Joyce Shaughnessy

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The Filipina guerrilla pictured on the front cover is an actual photo of a female Luzon guerrilla who is credited with killing seven Japanese.

Among others, the following persons are actual individuals who appear in this book:

General Douglas MacArthur

Brigadier General Richard Sutherland

Lt. General Lewis Brereton

Philippine President Manuel Quezon

Philippine Colonel Ruperto Kangleon

Lt. Commander Charles Chick Parsons

Colonel Wendell Fertig

Captain Ray Hunt

Emigdio C. Cruz, MD

Professor Henry Roy Bell

Mr. Lee Clark

Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival and the success of liberty.

President John F. Kennedy

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Bible, 1 Corinthians 13:13

The purpose of life is to be useful, to be compassionate. It is, above all, to matter, to count, to stand for something, to have made a difference.

Anonymous

CHAPTER ONE

AMANDO

AMANDO AWA RAN through the jungle trail surrounded by green bushes and high grass with the ease and grace befitting most of the boys of his Moro tribe of Mindanao in the Philippines. At fifteen years of age, he stood straight and tall but instinctively felt danger lurking somewhere around him. He hid in the stalks of bamboo beside the trail because he had heard a curious far-off growl similar to a large cat. However, it came from a distant place so far away that he decided he was not in immediate danger.

Amando emerged from the bamboo, and with his bare feet making no sound, ran again with the grace of a leopard. He carried a bolo knife for cutting cogon bushes and bamboo. It was also used to kill any enemy who threatened his village. It was worn around his waist and attached to his colorful skirt as a symbol of his maturity. The bolo or kampilan had been ceremoniously presented to him this year after the teaching of how to use it when he was only fifteen. He was now considered a man, not a boy, in his tribe.

Amando was comforted by the busy chirping of the hornbill and the maya birds. He never liked to think of danger around his village. He had lived with his grandfather, mother, her widowed sisters, and his younger brother and sister for as long as he could remember. His father had died when he was first walking, and families were always close in his tribe. His grandfather was not only the oldest male in his family but the most respected tribal elder because he was the grandfather of the rice. It was he who conducted the rituals and chanted incantations over the rice fields at night to ensure a good harvest.

Amando stopped at the stone set outside the village. If it remained in the same position, all was well in his home. He could also hear the noise of playing children who had learned to be quiet if an enemy raiding party were close by. Even the dogs were slain so they couldn’t give away the village’s position. It meant that the elders did not hear the threat of anything.

As he grew closer he could also smell the good cooking of the old women, so he assumed all was fine. Soon he was among the bahay kubo, which were the thatched houses of woven, split bamboo banded together by tree strings with dried coconut leaves or cogon grass. Amando’s kubo stood higher than any other, befitting his grandfather’s standing in the community. Each house was surrounded by vegetables and medicinal herbs. Amando Awa, his brother, father and grandfather were all fishermen as Amando’s son would be some day. They kept many important things in their kubos away from roaming animals, like food and medicinal herbs. Their boat and the oars were hidden away under cogon grass on the shore.

His grandfather was sitting on the porch, and before entering his kubo, Amando held his palms together and bowed respectfully to his grandfather, muttering the usual Moro greeting, Assalamu alaykam, or peace be unto you. His grandfather slightly bowed his head, and with his palms together, muttering in return, Wa alaykum assalam, or and upon you be peace.

As Amando entered his house, he smelled the comforting aroma of robust coffee cooking in the bukbukan. He noticed his younger sister, Alaiyah, playing with a lizard that was climbing on the wall. When she turned around and saw him, she broke into a smile so broad that he instantly felt love. She idolized her older brother, and he adored her although it was beneath his maturity to show it.

The peace and tranquility Amando had felt when he entered his house was interrupted suddenly by the growling he heard earlier. It seemed to grow much louder and closer. Amando hurried outside on his porch and saw vehicles coming down the center street! That had been the noise, not an animal. This was worse, much worse! Dogs howled and children screamed and sought safety in their houses. There were at least a dozen vehicles, and soldiers jumped out, their swords and rifles drawn!

Amando’s brother appeared at his side with the rifle that the Spanish commissioner had given their grandfather so many years ago. A soldier pointed his gun at the boy and fired a chatter of shots. His brother collapsed in a pool of blood. Amando unwrapped his clothing and tried to stem the flow. All around him, the village erupted into women’s screams, the crying of children, the barking of dogs, and the chatter of the Japanese weapons, which spit death about them in any direction they were aimed!

The men of his tribe were taught how to use the bolo knife against any enemy. Amando immediately stood, picked up his bolo, and readied himself to fight. A soldier put his arm around Alaiyah, putting his sword to her throat! Amando could see a trickle of blood running down her neck. The soldier motioned for Amando to drop his bolo, so he did in order to save his sister’s life. Then the soldier slit his beloved Alaiyah’s throat, and her precious blood spilled into the earth as she took her last breath! Allah, why? He heard a moan and realized that it had come from his own throat.

The soldiers were grabbing the women and girls and taking them into the huts to rape them. Then they turned their attention to the boys. Amando watched in horror as his cousin was thrown on the ground and held by the arms and legs. The soldiers laughed as they pulled his legs apart and cut his sex away. The soldiers then forced the boy’s mouth open and pressed the boys’ private parts into it.

For the first time he heard a deep and sorrowful groan. It was from his grandfather, who was made to watch the seeds of his children spill as blood in the ground. The soldiers held him as he watched many young men castrated in the same manner, and Amando thought that he might be sick.

Suddenly, the soldiers grabbed his arms and threw him onto the ground. They held him cruelly against the bamboo porch! His mother and sisters screamed and ran inside. Even as the soldiers were restraining him, Amando could see many dead women and children in the dirt among the houses and many women being carried into their homes to be raped. One of the soldiers spread his legs apart, and Amando thought to himself that he would grab the sword from him, not to kill the soldier but to kill himself. He would show the soldiers how a true Moro warrior died.

The sword came down and the other soldiers held his arms so that he couldn’t grab the sword, and he felt it cut his body; but for some reason, he felt the soldiers suddenly loosen their grip on his body. One of the Japanese leaders pulled Amando up by his arms. He put his hand on his neck in a sign of friendship, and for the first time, Amando cried. The soldier’s kindness destroyed the boy’s resolve more than any amount of cruelty could have done. The soldier took his wallet out of his trousers and showed him a picture of a boy about his same age and pointed at the picture and at him. Amando guessed that he thought they must look alike. The soldier pushed him away to make him leave. When he didn’t leave, the soldier slapped him on his buttocks and made him go.

Amando ran down the same path he had been on earlier in the day, when everything was normal in his world. He didn’t know how long he ran, but he finally stopped. His empty stomach retched many times. He swore he would never forget what the Japanese had done to the tribesmen and family in his village! He would never forget the face of the man who had made him leave his village or of the one who had killed his Alaiyah! Amando promised himself that he would bring vengeance against the cruel foreigners. Never in his life had he seen such violence from one human being toward another. He would make them pay for what they had done!

He ran some more and finally collapsed on the ground. He lay like a naked baby upon the breast of the earth. Insects crawled across his body, even a snake slithered across his back; but he lay still, his heart beating in his chest. He must rest until he had the strength to continue his walk down the trail. Then perhaps he would find someone else who hated the foreigners as much as he. Revenge would be his reason for living. He had lost his family and the rest of his tribesmen. He would find someone. He just felt it in his saddened and angry heart.

CHAPTER TWO

CARLA

CARLA, TWENTY-ONE, WAS sitting in history class in Tokyo on March 25, 1936, when she looked around suddenly self-conscious. She sat at the front of the class where she normally sat, but all of the other students had moved to the other side of the room. Suki and Kita, the two students with whom she shared her lunch hour every day, were glancing at her anxiously. Why were they all on the other side of the room, and why hadn’t she noticed earlier before the class was half over?

Suddenly, Professor Hatachi stopped lecturing and told everyone that class was dismissed early that day. All of the Japanese students rose and walked quickly into the hall. Professor Hatachi asked one of the students to close the door.

He said, Carla, I need to talk to you. I cannot believe you haven’t noticed most of the students avoiding you. Have you?

Just starting yesterday when classes were over. What’s happening?

Professor Hatachi studiously began to clean his glasses, obviously avoiding her eyes. He finally said, It’s because you are foreign, Carla, and they have been told by those in authority to not only mistrust anyone who is a foreigner but to avoid him as well. It is the thought control bureau. I’m sure you must have read about it.

He continued to avoid looking directly at her, and for some reason, it infuriated her more than anything else. He had always been so kind toward her, and he had always seemed content. His entire demeanor had suddenly changed. Now he seemed impatient and irritated.

Yes, sir. It was so ridiculous that I thought everyone I knew would also think it was absurd.

Perhaps, but it is not the Japanese way to question authority. I am talking about the power of the Kwantung Army and the emperor himself, who is in favor of it.

But what about the 2-26 incident? I thought that the emperor told everyone he was not in favor of the Kwantung Army’s policies of aggression.

Carla, if there is one simple fact about the Japanese you must grasp, it is that we believe that Emperor Hirohito is the son of god. He is not wrong, has never been wrong, and may change his mind whenever he chooses.

He said, "I am setting a document on my desk. You may pick it up, take it home, and read it if you wish. I have no control over your hands. However, if your hands do not pick it up, it could cause me much difficulty. Carla, I will not expect you in my class tomorrow or even in my country."

Professor Hatachi’s dark brown eyes finally looked directly into hers. They seemed filled with both profound sadness and pity. Carla, I am afraid that our two countries are now sworn enemies.

Professor Hatachi walked out of class and left Carla astounded by everything he had said. She was shaken but picked up the paper and stuffed it into her pack, slung the pack over her shoulder, and walked out of the building. Carla buttoned her coat against the cold wind and rain that suddenly hit her face. She retrieved her bicycle from the lot, and as she rode home, she became even more frightened.

There were demonstrations out on the street. Tokyo was always horribly crowded, but it was worse this time. Traffic was at a standstill, even foot traffic. There were soldiers marching in the street. There were people singing the national anthem, waving Japanese flags, and saluting the soldiers as they passed. It had an almost surreal quality to it.

The Kempeitai, or the Japanese police, were walking around looking very important, wearing their armbands, and brandishing pistols by their side. Carla noticed one of them glancing her way. He sneered very nastily at her. She suddenly felt chills on her arms.

Carla pedaled faster, suddenly afraid for her own safety. She jumped off her bike once she reached her apartment, fumbled for her keys, hurried inside, and immediately locked her door behind her. Carla tried to calm her nerves but found it hard to do.

The telephone rang, startling her. She ran over and picked it up, hoping to hear a friendly voice on the other end.

She said, "Oh, hi, Kathy, did you see all of the demonstrations on the streets and hear all the talk about it? It scares the hell out of me! Even in class, everyone was acting as if I were vermin. I can’t believe it."

I’ve only seen what I’ve witnessed from the window. Bill told me to stay home with the boys today and to close the curtains. I’m taking them home to the UK tomorrow, Carla. Bill called me earlier and said that everyone at the British embassy was saying that the Kwantung Army has grown too strong in this country for us to be safe here. Carla, Bill has been swamped with getting a lot of scared Brits out of the country. We are afraid of being assassinated. He said that if you decide to go home, to go to the American embassy first. Don’t talk anymore over the phone unless you absolutely have to. Do you understand what I just said?

I shouldn’t even call my father?

No. Just go to the American embassy first. If you can’t make it, go to the British embassy. Don’t call anyone. Stay off the telephone. Go in person. Got it?

Okay. I can’t believe this is happening.

The line went dead in her hand and Carla suddenly realized that Kathy had already hung up the receiver!

Kathy was even scared to talk on the telephone. God, what had she gotten herself into?

Then she made her decision.

Carla went into her bedroom and packed only necessities for about five days in one small bag that she could sling over her shoulder.

Then Carla got out the two small safes her father had given her. She remembered what he had said before she left Manila:

Carla, I want you to sit here with me for a while in the study where we will not be interrupted. I don’t want you to discuss this with anyone, especially not your mother. It will only frighten her.

Carla almost cried when she thought how much her father had been scared of her going to Tokyo, and she hadn’t even listened. Now look at her, cowering inside her apartment. But she calmed herself as much as possible and did everything he had told her to do. Carla remembered her teachers telling her at school that she had a quick mind like a steel trap, and she remembered all of her father’s instructions:

"When you decide it is time to leave Japan, take all of the money out of both safes, take only what you need and can carry in a bag over your shoulder. Put the China Clipper ticket, your passport, and ID in the inside pocket of your jacket and go straight to the American embassy. Don’t let anyone stop you, Carla. Remember all of this. Above all, remember that your mother and I love you."

I love you too, Papa, Carla murmured softly. She ran to her wardrobe to put on slacks that would cover her slightly lighter skin and a pair of Japanese shoes. Because it was raining outside, she decided she could use an umbrella to shield her face.

Maybe I can make it to the American embassy before being identified as an enemy.

Carla picked up her bag and purse, slinging both over her shoulder and checking that she had done everything that she could before leaving her apartment. Her bicycle was in the hall; she pushed it to the street and jumped on it. She was prepared to literally run for her life.

On the way, Carla saw a group of Kempeitai; and as they passed her, she shielded her face with the umbrella. She pedaled in and out of traffic like an athlete. She was so close to the American embassy that she could see its flag and front gate when she heard a voice she had been dreading.

Stop, you insolent foreigner! Stop now!

Carla realized she couldn’t stop now. She glanced over her shoulder and immediately recognized the armband of the Kempeitai! She was seconds away from the embassy! She fumbled nervously with the zipper inside her jacket, which contained her American passport and ID. Carla jumped off the bike and threw the umbrella down. She ran harder than she had ever run. She made it to the gate and saw a U.S. marine inside! But the dreaded Kempeitai was gaining on her! She got out her passport, opened it, and slapped it open on the gate where the guard could see it.

Carla yelled in English, Help me! I am an American citizen, and I need shelter immediately!

The guard saw the Kempeitai on Carla’s heels, looked quickly at the passport, and opened the gate slightly so that she could go inside.

The marine mumbled to her, "Go inside now. You are safe here." Then he calmly stood just inside the gate. He was clothed in his dress blue, holding his rifle in front of his body.

Carla ran inside and had to show her passport again to an official who told her to sit and catch her breath. He sat down, looked at her dark skin, looked at the passport again, and said, I am Mr. Thornton. I see you are from the Philippine Islands. I noticed you running in. Who was chasing you, Ms. Santos?

Carla hurriedly answered, "The Kempeitai! I came here from my apartment and am seeking asylum since the Philippines is an American territory. Is there any way that I can get transportation home to Manila? I have money. I even have an open ticket on the China Clipper from Hong Kong to the Philippines. As an afterthought, she added, Please call me Carla."

Mr. Thornton smiled and said, "We have several stranded citizens