The War I Saw

By Eugenia Paguio

This book is about the authors true experience during WWII when the Japanese Imperial Forces invaded Bataan, her home province, where most of the United States Armed Forces in the Far East (USAFFE) were encamped and was made the last stand against the invading forces. Id like the public and even the whole world to see what I saw, to feel what I felt and still feel (for history doesnt disappear), to remember the fallen fellowmen of ours, to feel their pains and the untold sufferings they endured and went through, to respect human dignity, to understand that war and violence doesnt pay. That we, as human beings, must work together for the promotion of peacethat we may all live in a world of peace and progress.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 16, 2016
• ISBN: 9781514457023

Eugenia Paguio

She was born and grew up in the quiet town of Pilar, province of Bataan, Philippines. She was educated in public schools from elementary through college. Obtained her bachelor’s degree in elementary education (BSEED) from the Philippine Normal College (now a university), a government training institution for teachers. Taught in public schools. Was blown by the northwest wind to the Land of Opportunity. Landed in San Francisco where she worked for the Department of Human Services as an eligibility worker for welfare applicants. Retired after twenty years of service. Is a resident of San Francisco—the most beautiful city of the Pacific.

Book preview

The War I Saw

Eugenia Paguio

Copyright © 2016 by Eugenia Paguio.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2016901867

ISBN:       Hardcover       978-1-5144-5700-9

                 Softcover         978-1-5144-5699-6

                 eBook               978-1-5144-5702-3

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.

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Rev. date: 03/15/2016

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Contents

Part I   The Start of the War in the Far Eastern Pacific

(The Invasion of Bataan)

Part II   Life at the Evacuation Center

Part III   Bataan Falls!

Part IV   The Long Walk Home and the Death March

Part V   Back to Our Hometown

Part VI   The Japanese Occupation

Part VII   Liberation and V-J Day

(General MacArthur Returns)

Dedication

Posthumously dedicated to Gen. Douglas MacArthur, a brave and great military strategist and liberator. He promised to return, and return he did.

Only a sweet and virtuous soul,

Like seasoned timber, never gives,

though the whole world changed to coal,

         then chiefly lives.

Quoted

Author’s Note

We learn from history. It is a part of our life. We cannot forget and put it behind us. The editorial of the San Francisco Chronicle dated July 11, 2011, has aptly said,

The past never disappears; it often returns to haunt us.

Bataan is a small peninsula in the big island of Luzon. It juts out into two bodies of water. On the west is the South China Sea; on the east is Manila Bay. Just a few nautical miles below Bataan is the tiny island of Corregidor.

Many of the residents of Bataan were lucky enough to cross Manila Bay and thus escaped the carnage in this small peninsula. They were those who lived in the barrios and fishing villages. We who remained and didn’t know about crossing Manila Bay to go to the other side (provinces, such as Bulacan) were trapped in that hellish event.

The war was only a short one—from December 8, 1941¹ to April 9, 1942—when Bataan fell, but it was very terrible and tragic, and so was the Japanese occupation.

I

The Start of the War in the Far Eastern Pacific

(THE INVASION OF BATAAN)

That day of December 8, 1941 (December 7 in the USA), I went back to school for the afternoon classes a little bit too early. Arriving at the Home Economics building at about half an hour past twelve, my homeroom and HE teacher as well, whose name was Mrs. Amparo Quiroz, advised me to stay there and study my lessons while she took a nap. I was in grade 5 then. While I was reading my lessons for about twenty minutes or so, I heard a sixth-grade boy shouting something, but I could not make out what he was saying. I stood up and looked out of the window to see what was going on. Then I saw the boy running and passing by the building and shouting in Tagalog, Binomba ang Pearl Harbor! Binomba ang Pearl Harbor! which in English means Pearl Harbor was bombed! Pearl Harbor was bombed! It was almost time for the afternoon classes to start, and the other children who were playing in the schoolyard and others who were just waiting for the school bell to ring were sent home by the teachers. Mrs. Quiroz woke up and told me to go home too.

I closed the book I was reading, put it in my bag and quickly rushed for home. That day started the disruption of my studies, as well as of other pupils’. I told my mother and older sisters that we children in the school were all sent home by the teachers and that war had started. Having heard stories from the old folks about their experience in WWI, all we knew was that war was horrible, that it means destruction of lives and property, and that people have to be in constant hiding for dear life. My mother, sisters, and I did not know what to do (being inexperienced about war). Our father was not home that time; he was out in the rice fields. Then my sisters started packing clothes in jute sacks—sacks used as containers for palay (unmilled rice) during the harvest season. We were all very nervous packing necessities that we could carry with us just in case we had to leave home to go to a hiding place. We thought that that very day something wrong was going to happen to us and to the whole nation. Later in the afternoon, Father came home, and we told him of the bad news: that WWII in the Far Eastern Pacific had begun.

America was not yet prepared for this war, but I wonder why she did not prepare herself in case of any sudden attack. There must be a searchlight at nighttime in every battleship anchored at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, and coupled with antiaircraft. America was like a Goliath caught sleeping and attacked by a dwarf. We, the Filipinos, had no knowledge either that there was an ongoing disagreement between Japan and the United States. No news articles were written about it, so we were caught unaware. Our soldiers were very much ill-prepared to fight this war. War came to us so suddenly. We, the civilians, were given no instructions at all for preparedness in case of emergencies.

At this time, municipal officials issued instructions that each family make dugouts where we could go for protection during air raids. My father, who was a burly farmer, made a big dugout for the entire family all by himself near the center of the backyard, which was surrounded by thick banana plants. He had no son, and I am the fourth of four sisters. My three elder sisters are Ana, the eldest; Flor, the second elder; and Carrie who is three years older than I am. The only son who came after me died of meningitis when he was only a year old. Father hired laborers to help him in the fields during the planting and harvest seasons. For roofing on the big dugout, Father used strong, mature bamboos and flat galvanized iron sheets, which he then covered with thick soil. He also made a passage where one could go in and out. Whenever we heard the roar of airplanes, we would run to the dugout, and if we were caught walking out in the street or anywhere outside the house, one had to fall down flat on one’s face. Even little children got accustomed to falling down flat on their faces whenever the drone of enemy planes was heard. The roar of approaching airplanes made one feel nervous, but one had to be alert and careful too. Everyone tried to avoid being spotted by enemy planes, as we were afraid of the bombs.

Then one day, army trucks with uniformed soldiers of the U.S. forces passed by the main highway in our town. Civilians were cheering them; both adults and children were flashing the victory sign with their fingers and shouting, Victory, Joe!, and the soldiers—both Filipinos and Americans—were flashing back their fingers with the victory sign and smiling at the civilians. At first, it seemed that everybody was hopeful of winning this war. This lasted for a few days, when army trucks with soldiers would pass by our town going to the south of the province. We had no idea at that time that the military authorities were making Bataan the stronghold against the enemy forces. For us children, we thought it was just exciting to see those seemingly strong and brave soldiers come to our province. We civilians never thought that a bitter end would come.

December is harvest time in the Philippines. Once, Father took me with him to the fields that he owned in the outskirts of the town. Standing on a rice paddy, I watched him and his men reap the golden grains with scythes, while high above us flew Japanese planes. Father and his men just joked about those planes, saying that they were merely passing by. The bravery of those men seemed to rub off on me, and so I did not feel any fear at all of those passing planes. We also watched far out at a distance a dogfight up in the sky between an Allied plane and an enemy plane. It was exciting to watch a dogfight, but it meant one life would be lost. We prayed and hoped that our plane would win. We never knew who the winner was for they went out of sight.

At this time, Father Bustos, the priest who lived in the parish convent, with his adoptive mother, Apo Lucy (Apo is an address of respect for the old folks that is commonly used in the Pampango dialect); his niece, Mila; and his