The 3rd Field Artillery Battalion (Provisional) in the Philippines, 1941-1942

75mm Gun Motor Carriage T12, Philippines, late 1941.

by George R. Reed, Captain, Field Artillery, U.S. Army

This was originally prepared as a manuscript by the author in 1948 and submitted to The Adjutant General (Historical Section), Washington, D.C. Copy obtained from the National Archives, Washington, D.C.

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Provisional Field Artillery, Self-Propelled Mounts, Fort Stotsenberg, Pampanga

First Battalion

Commanding Officer: Major D. S. Babcock

Battery Commanders: Captain John Curtis, Lieutenant Murray M. Day, Lieutenant Brunette, Lieutenant Corrigan

Second Battalion

Commanding Officer: Major Joseph Ganahl

Battery Commanders: Lieutenant William Jones, Lieutenant Travis Perrenot, Lieutenant Daniel W. Cranford, Lieutenant Peck

Third Battalion

Commanding Officer: Major J. R. Lindsay

Battery Commanders: Lieutenant Wayne Fisher, Lieutenant George A. Reed (the author of this work), Lieutenant Van de Lester, Lieutenant Svobodny

The self-propelled mount was the only piece of modern artillery materiel in the Islands. Fifty of them had arrived in Manila the previous month (November) and had only been brought to Stotsenberg four days before war was declared. Two of them were still in Manila. Essentially, the self-propelled mount is a French 75-mm gun mounted on a half-track scout car. The car is stiff and unwieldy in handling as well as being very vulnerable from the front. In spite of this these guns proved to be very valuable during the retreat into Bataan.

The personnel of this group was drawn from a number of sources: battalion and battery commanders were American officers; junior officers were from the Philippine Army; the firing battery was from the Philippine Army; the half-track drivers were from the 14th Engineers (Philippine Scouts); and the ammunition truck drivers were from the 200th Coast Artillery Corps (National Guard).

My assignment at Fort Stotsenberg was to Battery E, 24th Field Artillery (Philippine Scouts), as the battery executive. For a short period before the war I was attached to the 21st Field Artillery (Philippine Army) as adjutant of American instructors. The camp was located at Sta. Ignacia, Tarlac. Colonel Catalan was the Philippine Army commander and Col. R. C. Mallonee was the commanding officer of American instructors.

On 6 December 1941, Col. H. N. Lockwood, S-3 of the Field Artillery Brigade, arrived in camp at Sta. Ignacia with orders to report to the brigade commander without delay. That same day I reported to Col. Louis R. Dougherty who ordered me to report to Maj. D. S. Babcock. That evening Maj. Babcock gave me command of the Fourth Field Battery. The next day, 7 December 1941, being Sunday no work was scheduled, however, Maj. Babcock suggested I go to the gun park and familiarize myself with the weapon, which I did.

On the morning of 8 December, we heard by radio of the bombing of Pearl Harbor and the declaration of war.

Fourth Field Battery, 3rd Provisional Battalion, Field Artillery (SPM)

Commanding Officer: First Lieutenant George A. Reed, USA

Executive Officer: Second Lieutenant Amador Lim, PA

Supply Officer: Third Lieutenant Amado Santiago, PA

Liaison Officer: Third Lieutenant Romero, PA

I reported to Maj. Babcock at the half-track park opposite the ordnance shop immediately after hearing the news over the radio. The drivers of the tracks from the 14th Engineers, Philippine Scouts, were also present. With their help I began to draw equipment for the guns and tracks. These guns were to be completely equipped. At 10:00 a.m. Maj. Babcock received the following message from brigade headquarters: “Japanese planes have been sighted over Lingayen Gulf.” Battery commanders were ordered to take their guns and place them under cover in various parts of the post and then return for further orders. I took my battery to the rear of 2nd Battalion, 24th Field Artillery, and on returning to Maj. Babcock I was told that I could pick up my ammunition trucks and drivers in the rear of the brigade motor shop, after which I was to draw 300 rounds of ammunition for each gun at the magazine. I found the trucks behind the motor shop, but the drivers were absent. I found they were having lunch at their barracks. At approximately noon Lt. Langlois and I watched sixty-four planes bomb Clark Field. After the bombing the drivers returned. We then took the trucks, drew the ammunition and returned to the rear of the 24th Field Artillery barracks. Returning to Maj. Babcock I was ordered to take my guns and trucks to the forage farm under cover of darkness. This order was carried out and all elements were placed under cover. On the completion of this move I reported to Col. J. T. Tacy at Camp Del Pilar where I received my quota of Philippine Army personnel.

The time until 20 December was spent in training and equipping the Philippine Army personnel of the battery. These men had had six weeks of training at Camp Del Pilar before the war. During this period also, Maj. Ganahl with three batteries left for north Luzon, Lt. Perrenot was attached to the 26th Cavalry, Philippine Scouts, and Maj. Babcock with four batteries left for southern Luzon.

On the evening of the 20th of December Maj. Lindsay ordered all battery commanders to place their guns so as to be able to repel an attack of parachute troops on Clark Field. I placed my guns under a line of trees on the east side of the buildings of the forage farm and established an observation post on Lone Hill.

Early on the morning of 21 December, I received orders to proceed to Carmen, Pangasinan, where I would defend the bridge over the Agno. This move was completed without any difficulty and the guns were placed as shown in Figure 1. [Editor’s Note: None of the figures mentioned in this work were available.] In the afternoon Gen. W. E. Brougher, Commanding General, 11th Division, Philippine Army, visited the line at Carmen and named Capt. Robert Besson as combat team commander. We encountered some trouble in getting the half-tracks over the levee and into their positions. I asked Capt. Besson if he would like a tank block on the road to Rosales. He replied in the affirmative and that night we moved the guns on the right of the bridge to the positions marked 1 and 2. Two Japanese planes dropped bombs at the bridge that afternoon but failed to hit it. On the 22nd, Maj. Lindsay passed through Carmen on his way to Rosales to see Lt. Van de Lester. I saw Lt. Fisher, who had a badly infected foot, trying to contact the battalion commander.

On the 23rd of December two Japanese planes dropped five bombs at the bridge, one of which struck the span next to the bank dropping that span, which had been prepared for dynamiting, into the river. I made an inspection of the guns immediately after the bombing, and when I reached number four gun I found that a piece of steel from the bridge had gone through the hood of the track, taking off a corner of the cylinder head, passing through the instrument panel, the door, and then dropping to the ground. In addition, steel from the bridge had punctured the radiator and tires of an ammunition truck which was nearby. I sent both back to Stotsenberg to the ordnance shop, telling them to stop at Maj. Lindsay’s command post on the way back. Later in the day the battalion commander contacted for a report in order to find out what had happened to the mount, and before leaving promised to replace the ammunition truck. I moved the gun by the hotel to the position formerly held by the damaged gun.

24 December

Lieutenant Van de Lester was reported killed in action at Binalonan. Knowing Lt. Van de Lester to be dead I stopped an SPM which was on its way to him. The track was stripped. There was no sight, ammunition, equipment or oil in the recoil cylinder and the gun was full of cosmoline. The driver and I cleaned the gun. We furnished it with a panoramic sight and ammunition, but had no filler pump with which to fill the recoil cylinder. The tanks had none and I was unable to find one anywhere since there are no other SPMs near. Repair of the bridge to permit traffic was begun with Maj. S. Malevich, Gen. Wainwright’s staff, in charge of construction.

Generals J. R. N. Weaver, tank commander, J. M. Wainwright, Northern Luzon Force Commander, and G. M. Parker, Southern Luzon Force Commander, had a conference in Carmen on Christmas Day.

I received the information too late to contact Lt. Perrenot who was over the river and was unable to cross as bridge repairs were incomplete. I sent the extra SPM back to Maj. Lindsay. There was a great amount of motor traffic moving to the rear. Major Lindsay inspected the gun positions and approved of them. Bridge repairs were completed. Lieutenant Perrenot picked up members of his battery who had been dropped off at my position that morning.

At dawn on 26 December we received our first hostile machine gun fire from the north bank of the river. During the day we received 40-mm fire from a tank which was eventually put out of commission by Lt. Lim’s gun. For a time we were under fire from what I believe was a self-propelled mount, possibly one of Lt. Van de Lester’s guns. A shell from this gun struck our ammunition truck on the road. The driver, Pvt. Robert Arledge, 200th Coast Artillery Corps, was killed. Captain Besson received orders from Gen. Brougher to retire at nightfall. During the afternoon we received heavy mortar fire which soon had Carmen in flames. Shortly after noon friendly, indirect, artillery fire from the right rear was directed at the bridge over the river. This fire fell short of the target. Most of the shells fell in the area between the river and the road running parallel to it. I ascertained later that this fire had been directed by the 91st Field Artillery, Philippine Army. Lieutenant Lim’s gun was hit in front by a 40-mm shell, the driver, Pedro Sarabia, 14th Engineers, Philippine Scouts, was killed and the tracks torn from the mount. Lieutenant Lim destroyed the gun and set it afire. We retired at nightfall as far as San Miguel looking for Maj. Lindsay’s command post as my rear echelon had gone there that morning. We fed the battery with the maintenance company of the 192nd Tank Battalion and then started north again. I found the command post north of Tarlac, Tarlac, and was ordered to report to Gen. Brougher at Victoria, Tarlac. We had hardly started when the driver of the SPM drove it off the road into a dirt bank. The motor refused to start, so I hitched the track on behind one of my 6x6 ammunition trucks and towed it to Victoria, where we arrived about dawn. We traveled about eight miles an hour.

I reported to Gen. Brougher who gave me orders to report to the combat tea commander at the road intersection north of Guimba, Nueva Ecija. On arrival at the road intersection I saw Capt. Dysterhoff who told me to use my gun as I saw fit. (See Figure 2). I asked Capt. Dysterhoff what he would do if he were hard-pressed, since the bridge to the south which had been bombed by the Japanese several days before, cut off all retreat to the direct rear and left only the road to Pura as a way out for us. This road, which lay directly across the front of the Japanese advance, was not open to me for retreat since my maximum speed was only eight miles an hour. So we pioneered a road down to the creek and winched all our trucks across. About this time my other gun was pulled to a point one kilometer south of the bridge by A Company, 192nd Tank Battalion. The engine had no power because of a torn gasket on the cylinder head. I was able to obtain one from Lt. Hurd, commanding officer of A Company.

During the afternoon artillery to the east on the road to the Cagayan Valley moved from our front to our rear. I contacted Lt. Howard Amos, liaison officer of the 91st Field Artillery, Philippine Army, whom I had known at Stotsenberg. It was his opinion as well as my own that the attack would not be pushed along the road we were defending. Orders were received from Gen. L. R. Stevens, Commanding General, 91st Division, to retire at 9:00 p.m. About sunset I was contacted by Lt. Robert McDowell, commanding officer of the Second Platoon, Company B, 192nd Tank Battalion, who had been sent by Gen. Brougher to pull my foremost gun out by way of Pura to Stotsenberg to be repaired. Lieutenant McDowell had no extra cable and would not split his platoon to pull my other gun out, so I arranged with Lt. Hurd for one of his tanks to pull the track out to Baloc Junction. Lieutenant Amos and I in my sedan led A Company out to Baloc Junction. I took the gun there, dropped Lt. Amos at Santa Rosa, and proceeded to San Isidro, arriving there about 5:00 a.m. The motor sergeant began to put the new gasket on the cylinder head while I reported to Gen. Stevens who told me that I would find Gen. Brougher at Magalang. I proceeded to Magalang, but found that the 11th Division command post was not there. After gassing all motor vehicles I picked up Maj. Joseph Ganahl who was also looking for the division command post and we proceeded north to Concepcion where he located Gen. Brougher’s headquarters. I was ordered to join other elements of the Provisional Field Artillery at La Paz, Tarlac. The following morning (29 December) I placed my gun in support of a gun under Lt. Peck on the road to Cabanatuan. (See Figure 3.)

During the day we heard considerable artillery fire to the north. Major Lindsay contacted me in the later afternoon, ordered me to turn my gun over to Lt. Peck, locate the Fifth Battery somewhere north of Capas and to take over from Lt. Fisher who would go to the hospital. I contacted Lt. Fisher that night at San Miguel, Tarlac.

Fifth Field Battery, 3rd Provisional Battalion, Field Artillery (SPM)

Lieutenant Fisher left immediately for the hospital. I made an inspection of the gun positions before turning in and found them to be satisfactory. (See Figure 4.)

Early on the morning of 30 December I inspected the guns and found them to be in a deplorable mechanical condition. There were only thirty-five rounds of ammunition, none of which were even ready to be fused. The bodies of all the tracks, which should have been kept clear, were piled high with unopened ammunition boxes, duffel bags, food and other impediment. The ammunition cylinders beneath the breech were covered and it would have been difficult to fire the gun. I had the duffel bags and all impediments, which could be spared, placed in the supply truck. I supplied each gun with one hundred rounds of ammunition stored in opened boxes ready for firing.

I found Lt. McDowell with three tanks present in the barrio. We heard considerable firing well to the north.

On 30 December I received a note from Col. R. C. Mallonee, senior American instructor of the 21st Field Artillery, Philippine Army, to the effect that I was attached to the 21st Division, Philippine Army, Gen. Capinpin, commanding. I reported to Col. Mallonee at the division command post, who ordered me to report to Col. G. H. McCafferty, senior instructor of the 22nd Infantry, Philippine Army, and coordinate my retreat with the last element of the 22nd Infantry. I contacted Col. McCafferty and then arranged with Lt. McDowell for the defense of the road until the infantry was well to the rear. In the retreat the SPMs took up positions one kilometer apart and leap-frogged front to rear all the way to the next defense line. The first elements of the 22nd Infantry began to pass through San Miguel at sundown. The last troops had passed by 12:00 a.m. That night we retired to the Bamban River line without incident. (See Figure 5.)

On 31 December, we are out of contact with the Japanese. All was quiet. The Japanese seem to have a policy of limited objectives. If they had only known what was holding up their advance they wouldn’t have hesitated but would have pushed us back into Bataan immediately. The bridge over the Bamban was dynamited on the night of the 31st of December.

1 January 1942

There was a conference at the division command post in Mabalacat to coordinate the retreat which was to take place the following night. My policy would be the same. There was a division of elements at Angeles, some were to go by way of the San Fernando-Guagua road while others were to retire by road. On the morning of 1 January, I leap-frogged number one gun to the rear. It was too close under the heights of the north bank of the Bamban. The gun fired on Japanese machine gun patrols before moving. There was heavy fire on the hills to the left flank. They are the only point of observation within our lines and they overlooked the Japanese advance. The retreat was carried out without incident, and on the morning of the 2nd I placed my guns in depth along the road south of Hacienda Pio. (See Figure 6.) I reported to Col. Mallonee at the division command post, San Jose, and was informed there would be no move tonight. On the way to the command post I had noticed a tank platoon, Lt. McDowell commanding, off the road in some trees a good distance behind the lines just east of Kalantas. While in San Jose I found Capt. Donald Haynes, commanding officer, B Company, 192nd Tank Battalion, who was using his radio to maintain contact with his platoons, of which Lt. McDowell’s was one. I asked him for a note placing his platoons at my disposal and received the same.

Just west of Pio I picked up Lt. Grover C. Richards, an instructor with the 3rd Battalion, 21st Infantry, Philippine Army, who told me that the command post of the 21st was surrounded. I parked my car on the line of 2nd Battalion, 21st Field Artillery, Philippine Army, guns, and Sgt. Hagedorn, Lt. Richards, and I started to walk forward. As we did so, a platoon of tanks passed us going forward. We had not walked 200 yards when the same tanks came charging back. I turned to Richards and said, “Those tanks should have stayed up there.” He replied, “They’re not doing my command post any good.” I told him to go forward to my first gun and wait there while I went back and contacted the tanks.

I went back to the woods and after some persuasion and showing the note from Capt. Haynes, Lt. McDowell agreed to bring his tanks up with my guns. I started back and was a good distance in advance of the tanks when I was fired on by a Japanese machine gunner at the bamboo line. I jumped out of the car, threw a grenade, and got my rifle. The tanks had come up by this time and they began to throw 37mm, .50- and .30-caliber into the bamboo. I climbed on top of the leading tank and used the turret gun until it jammed. I then jumped off the tank, got them to stop firing, and lead them up the road on foot and placed a tank with each of my guns.

With some of the men from the tanks I made a scouting trip to where the ground dropped off in order to be sure there were no Japanese nearby. When I returned to my first gun, Lt. McDowell stuck his head out of the turret and asked me if I expected him to stay where he was that night. I replied in the affirmative.

He said, “But we are vulnerable at night.”

“So are my guns,” I replied.

“I won’t stay,” he answered.

“Oh, yes, you will.”

“No, I have a platoon coming up to relieve me. We don’t stay in the front line more than twenty-four hours.”

“Well,” I answered, “the man who relieves you will.”

Sergeant Hagedorn and I then drove to Hacienda Pio to meet Lt. Harrison. While there firing broke out nearby and Filipinos began to run past. Hagedorn and I drove out to the road. There was much confusion; only one machine gun was firing; the personnel of the 21st were lying down behind their guns; whereas one shell would have ended the Japanese penetration.

At the intersection to the main road I found the tanks, 2nd Platoon, B Company, retreating. I stopped them and asked Lt. Jennings where he was going.

“To the rear. The Japanese have broken through.”

“How about staying with my guns?” I asked.

“No!” he replied.

I threatened him with a court-martial, but it didn’t do any good and he went on to the rear. I stopped the sergeant of the next tank with a few hard words and put his tank and the other two in position with my guns again. Not long afterwards Lt. Jennings returned and asked me where I wanted his tank. After that things quieted down. The 21st command post had been relieved in the afternoon when the tanks came up with my guns.

4 January

There is heavy artillery fire on the main road to the south. The Japanese have apparently given up their attempted flank movement here. Firing is sporadic. There is Japanese and Philippine Scout cavalry in the mountains to the north. Captain Fowler, 26th Cavalry, Philippine Scouts, contacted me to tell me of the presence of his troops in the vicinity so that my guns would not fire on them before ascertaining their identity. When on the Bamban Line I had received orders to fire on any cavalry, since none of ours was in the vicinity at the time. Colonel Mallonee ordered me to follow my same procedure in covering the retreat of the infantry tonight.

The retreat began at nightfall and by noon next day we were in Dinalupijan, Bataan. At the command post Col. Mallonee ordered me to place my guns on the road to Guagua at nightfall and to follow the 26th Cavalry across the Lyac Junction Bridge into Bataan, at which time I would revert to the command of the Provisional Field Artillery (SPM). He did not know the rendezvous area of the SPMs. I crossed the bridge sometime around 11:00 p.m. and met Maj. Ganahl who was looking for some SPMs that had gotten lost. He told me the rendezvous area was on the Pilar-Bagac Road near Bagac. I found the area the next day and reported to Col. Babcock.

Two days later, 8 January 1942, I turned the battery over to Lt. Daniel W. Cranford and became S-1 and S-4 of the 1st Provisional Battalion, Field Artillery (SPM), Maj. Joseph Ganahl commanding.

 

"A Talk with Some Japs": A Contemporary News Report

A Japanese POW is interrogated by U.S. Marine intelligence personnel on Guadalcanal.

by Sergeant H. N. Oliphant, Yank Staff Correspondent

Somewhere in the Philip­pines—The stockade was set in a large rectangular clearing near the edge of a grove of coconut palms and guava trees. Off to the right of the outer barbed wire barrier was a mangrove swamp and beyond that a swollen, clay-colored river that wound like a dirty, twisted ribbon through tangles of tropical fronds and water weeds.

A fat, red-faced MP, a carbine slung barrel-down from his shoulder, stopped us about ten yards from the gate and, recognizing the staff sergeant interpreter with me, called, "Hi, ya, Jitter." Sizing me up briefly with bored mistrust, he added, "That fellow got permission to be here?"

The staff pulled a paper out of his poncho and handed it to the MP. He glanced at it a moment, said "Okay," and motioned us on. At the barbed wire gate another MP with fixed bayonet halted us and asked me if I had a pistol or a jungle knife on me. When I said no, he let us in.

We went for several yards along a narrow passage formed by more barbed wire until we came to the main yard, a cleared square about the size of a baseball diamond with OD tents and little nipa-thatched huts lining three of its four sides. The staff stopped for a minute, pointed to the yard where the Japs were and said: "There they are, more than two hundred of the filthy bastards. You ought to be able to get a cross-section of the Jap soldier's mind from them."

He offered me a cigarette and then explained the procedure we were to follow. I was to put my questions to him in English; he would translate them to the Japs. If it proved necessary, he would carry out the interrogation further himself to get as complete and revealing answers as possible. When he was satisfied with an answer, he would sum it up for me in English.

"Before we go in," he said, "there are some things you ought to know. The Japs you'll see and talk to will fall into two broad types. There will be those who surrendered voluntarily because they couldn't take it, and those taken against their wills because of wounds or shock.

"The first are mostly stupid animal-slaves who have been drilled and drilled until they know how to handle a piece or wield a knife and kill. Otherwise they know absolutely nothing about anything. They have no minds of their own and act only when a superior presses a button.

"The second type is something else again. They are fanatic, shrewd and possessed of an amazing singleness of purpose that is the direct result of just one thing—their sheep-like subservience to their superiors and to the Emperor. They're slick and well trained and live only to obey their superiors' orders to kill as many of us guys as possible. Otherwise they're just like the first type—mindless automatons who move when the button is pressed.

"There's a third type, too, but you won't see many of them in any prison camp because they're almost never captured. They're the killers who fight like madmen until they're wiped out. You can realize how many of these bastards there are when you consider the small number of prisoners we've taken compared with Jap casualties. They're the type who tortured captured Marines on Guadalcanal and engineered the March of Death on Bataan."

Jitter led the way over to the tent nearest the inner gate.

"Here's one who's as good to start with as any," he said. "He's a sergeant, was with those paratroops the Japs tried to land on Leyte the other night. His transport was shot down off the coast, and everyone in it was killed except him. He managed to get ashore but he ran into a bunch of guerrillas. You can imagine what a going-over they gave him. He falls into the second type I mentioned. He was captured against his will and now he thinks he's disgraced forever; says he'll commit suicide the first chance he gets."

When we ducked under the tent flaps, the Jap, sitting Buddha fashion with one foot under his buttocks and the other pulled up on the opposite thigh, looked up with a startled expression. Then he stood abruptly and bowed up and down, his arms spread wide, a cringing, crinkled smile on his face. He was big for a Jap, with broad shoulders and a clean-shaven bullet-shaped head. There were Band-Aids on his chin and under his jaw, apparently mementos of his session with the guerrillas, and there were thin, uneven gold edges on his protruding teeth. Jitter asked him to sit down and told him what we wanted to talk about. Then the questioning began. Every time the prisoner spoke, a nervous tic twitched above his right eye.

Where is your home town?

Osaka. [Osaka, Jitter stopped to explain, is a city near Kobe in the southern part of Honshu, Japan's biggest island.]

How long have you been in the Army?

Five years.

Did you take your basic training in Japan?

Some of it.

While you were training did your officers ever talk about the United States or tell you that Americans were bad and were a threat to the peace of Japan?

No. All they talked about was how to shoot guns, how to fight.

Did you volunteer or were you conscripted?

I volunteered.

Why did you volunteer?

Because I like army life; it makes you feel like a man.

When you were captured, how did you think you would be treated?

[The tic above the Jap's eye twitched three or four times in rapid succession. He didn't say anything—just sat there with his mouth hung open, his face a twitching blank. Jitter repeated the question with an addition.]

Did you think you would be tortured or killed?

Yes.

Has anyone in this camp hurt you in any way?

No. Everyone has been kind. Plenty of food. Nobody has hurt me.

Do you think you will be hurt or killed?

I don't know. [The Jap's tic twitched more violently.] I have asked MPs to kill me. I have asked MPs to let me kill myself.

Why do you want to kill yourself?

Because I am disgraced. I could never go back.

Do you have a family?

A mother and sister.

Friends? Schoolmates?

Yes.

Wouldn't they understand and forgive you? [The prisoner was suddenly a blank again, as if he didn't know what the question meant. Jitter asked it again.]

I don't know if they'd understand. It wouldn't make any difference if they did.

Would you be afraid to go home?

Yes; afraid, ashamed.

If you were able to escape back to your lines would you fight and try to kill as hard as you did before you were captured?

Harder.

Why? For what?

[The Jap, his tic still twitching, picking at a big scab on his ankle. Once more he didn't understand the meaning of a question.

Why were you fighting in the first place?

For the Emperor. [When he said the word "Emperor," the Jap sergeant made a quick, slight, almost imperceptible movement, snapping his spine straight. Jitter turned to me and said, "They all do that."]

Are you fighting for anything else but the Emperor? [At the sound of the word, the Jap's spine snapped straight again.]

No.

Why do you think Japan is fighting this war?

To rule the world.

Why do you think Japan should rule the world?

Because Japan is greater than any other country.

What makes you think that?

Japan has everything. Japan is powerful and right.

Did you ever hear or read much about the United States?

No.

Do you think America is powerful?

I don't know.

Do you think America is right?

I don't know. Japan is right.

Why do you think Japan is right? Can't anyone possibly be right but Japan?

[The prisoner looked blank again.]

Is Japan right because only Japan has the Emperor?

[The Jap's spine snapped straight and he answered quickly as if from memory, like a high-school elocutionist, speaking the words fast and without expression.] The Emperor is God. The Emperor is God for the whole world. [Jitter looked at me, shrugging his shoulders as if to say, "See what I mean?" He went on.]

When were you last in Japan?

I was in Miyaski December 4, 1944.

Did the people there have enough to eat?

Yes.

Were they concerned or scared about the war?

They were afraid.

Do they think Japan will win the war?

Every Japanese thinks that Japan will win the war.

Did you ever hear of Midway, Guadalcanal, Tarawa, Eniwetok, Saipan, Hollandia, Morotai?

Yes. They have told us about them.

Do you know you've been kicked out of those places and that now you're being kicked out of the Philippines?

I don't know. All places so far are just battles. You maybe win battles. Japan will win the war.

Jitter got up, sighed and said: "There's no point talking to this one any longer. Let's go in the next tent."

The next tent was larger. It had a long bamboo pole in the center, and over the ground the prisoners had spread layers of palm leaves. There were sixteen Japs in the tent and all of them were squatting on the floor tying palm leaves together with strands of ratan. They were naked except for jockstrap arrangements of white cloth.

When we came in the prisoners stood up immediately. Jitter told them to sit down. Then he picked out two who could answer for the others. One of them a Pfc. in the infantry, was very young and rather frail looking. His cheekbones weren't as high as those of most of his race and his skin had a certain unhealthy pallor. The two characteristics combined to make him look less Japanese. He had no expression at all when he talked, but when he bowed he had the usual insipid, crinkled grin.

The other prisoner was a seaman second class who had been fished out of Surigao Strait after his ship was blasted in the now-famous battle of the night of 24-25 October. He was pudgy-faced, remarkably slant-eyed and fat, with a clean-shaven, abnormally large head. When he talked, he grinned in an almost sneering manner, and when he tried to stress a point he waved his hands like a bartender mixing a whisky sour.

Jitter turned to the young Pfc. first.

Where's your home?

In the province of Kagawee.

When did you get in the Army?

In October 1943.

What did you do before you were in the Army?

Worked on my father's farm.

Did you have plenty to eat?

We had enough.

Did the Japanese Government get any of your food?

Some of it.

After you got into the Army were you told anything about the war, what you were fighting for and so forth?

They told us we were fighting for Eternal Peace.

When you were in school before the war did you ever read or study much about the United States?

No.

Do you hate Americans?

I don't know.

Then why did you fight and try to kill Americans?

[The young Pfc.'s eyes darted back and forth nervously over the tent wall. One of the other prisoners, a thin, demented-looking Jap, stopped grinning and waited, his mouth hanging open and his eyes fixed on the Pfc. Jitter asked the question again.]

Why did you fight and kill Americans?

Because of the Emperor. [Every back in the semicircle of listening prisoners straightened up when the word was spoken. The thin prisoner was a few seconds late, but he finally jerked to attention, his idiot grin restored.]

Do you believe that the Emperor is God?

Yes.

[Jitter put the same question to all of the others and each in his turn nodded and said "Haee," the sound Japs make when they answer yes to their superiors. Then Jitter asked. "Why do you think the Emperor is God?" and the Pfc. said that every Japanese knew the Emperor was God. They knew it, he said, because it was the only truth, the only thing in life that really meant anything to them.]

Jitter looked at me helplessly. "What can you do?" he said.

Then he turned to the pudgy-faced sailor.

Do you think Japan will win the war?

[The Jap sailor grinned smugly.] Of course Japan will win the war.

Why?

Japan can beat anybody. [The others were listening intently, hanging on to each word.]

What makes you think Japan will win?

Japan never lost a war. She cannot be beaten. All of Japan is one mind.

What do you mean, "Japan is one mind?"

[In his answer the prisoner used a phrase that I had heard frequently throughout the questioning. It was "Yamato Damashi." When I asked what it meant, Jitter said: "The phrase is hard to translate. There is no American word or phrase which means quite the same thing. The closest I can come to it is 'fighting spirit,' but to these people it means much more than that. If you think of a will power that no force on earth could discourage short of killing its possessor, and add to that the stubborn, cold belief of a bigot, you might get a little closer to its meaning." He went on with his questioning.]

Do you think Japan can beat America at anything—sports, for example?

Yes.

How about baseball? Didn't the Americans beat your pants off at baseball a few ago?

They got the highest score, yes.

You mean that America didn't beat you?

Yes. Japan won.

[Jitter looked at me with an expression of exaggerated patience, his fingers on the ground like Oliver Hardy used to do when Stan Laurel tripped him into a trough of white plaster.]

Look. First you said that the Americans got the high score and now you say that Japan won. What exactly do you mean by that?

Yamato Damashi. You got high score, but there are more important things. It's the way Japan plays the game. [Then the sailor burst into a flood of wild hissing chatter that lasted a good two minutes. When he finished, Jitter translated.] You come over to play in a big baseball tournament. You hit the ball plenty, you make runs, but your players are not honorable. They were crude. They didn't bow and talk properly to people, and while they played they paid no attention to anything but the game. Also, they show no Yamato Damashi. They wear uniforms with no American flag on them. Every Japanese player wears a uniform with the Rising Sun on it.

Jitter stood up. "I expect," he said, "that gives you a pretty good picture of how his brain works. Let's go out and get some fresh air."

Outside the sun was trying to break through the clouds, but there was a dismal drizzle and the yard was deserted except for one prisoner who was filling a canteen from the Lyster bag that hung in the center of the compound.

"That joe over there is a Navy pilot," Jitter said. "Tough guy. Thinks he's above all the others here. Let's talk to him."

The pilot was about twenty-five years old. He had a sparse, stringy mustache and some hairs on his chin that passed for a goatee. There was a purple-streaked swelling over his left eye, and one of his front teeth was missing. He had been shot down in San Pedro Bay on A-plus-4 and picked up by one of our Navy boats.

Though he had been cocky around the other Japs, when he saw Jitter approaching he became all smiles and bows. Jitter told him I would like him to answer a few questions, and he nodded so agreeably that you would have thought answering my questions was his life's ambition.

Where is your home?

Osaka.

How long have you been in the Navy?

Six years.

How long have you been a fighter pilot?

I graduated from Kasugamuira four months ago.

Ever in combat before Leyte?

No.

Do you feel any disgrace because you were captured alive?

Yes, I do.

Why did you let them pick you up out of the bay?

I was very sick.

Why didn't you kill yourself then? You had a gun, didn't you?

Yes, but it was rusty.

How did you think you would be treated as a prisoner?

I didn't know. International Law protects officers.

Did you ever hear of Jimmy Doolittle's raid on Tokyo?

Yes.

Do you know what happened to the American pilots who were captured there?

No.

Did you know that their heads were cut off?

No.

Well, they were. Do you believe it?

No.

[Jitter shrugged and offered a cigarette to the Jap pilot who took it greedily but only after he had executed a short, quick bow.]

Have you heard about the B-29 raids on Tokyo?

Yes. They have told us about them.

Did they tell you that the raids caused any appreciable damage?

They told us there was not much damage.

Do you think the B-29s can wreck Japan?

They cannot hurt Japan.

Why?

Japan has too much anti-aircraft, too much defense, too many fighter planes.

What do you think of American pilots?

Some good, some bad.

Are they any better than Japanese pilots?

We have some good, some bad, too.

Who do you think has the better, stronger air force?

[The pilot looked blank for a moment, attempted to formulate an answer, tried a few broken phrases and gave up.]

When you went out to attack an American troopship or vessel, what did you think about?

Hitting the target.

Anything else?

[No answer.]

Did you think of anything else?

[No answer.]

Why did you do it?

For the Emperor. [The Jap pilot snapped straight.]

Why do you think the Emperor is making Japan fight?

Japan is fighting for Eternal Peace.

Do you think Japan will win?

Yes.

As the interrogation progressed we had been walking slowly over to the far corner of the compound where the pilot's tent was. We were in front of the tent now, and the pilot bowed us in. On a GI cot at the rear of the tent squatted a little wizened Jap with horn-rimmed spectacles. He was about forty years old and, as Jitter explained, a doctor with more than three years Army service. When we entered, he was reading what appeared to be a Japanese medical journal. There were illustrations showing operating techniques, blood-transfusion equipment and other medical procedures.

Jitter questioned the doctor. While the questioning went on the pilot, like the silent prisoners in the other tent, sat very still, listening intently.

Doctor, you've read widely in medicine. Do you think that America's contribution to world medicine has been important?

I think it has been extremely important.

You have heard, of course, of Johns Hopkins, the Mayo Clinic and other American medical centers?

Yes. Their work has been of the utmost importance to the general advance of medicine.

Do you know that anesthesia was discovered and developed by American scientists?

Certainly.

How do you think Japan's medicine, its doctors, its operating equipment and so on compare with those of America?

Japan is first rate in everything.

Tell me, doctor, who do you think will win the war?

Japan will win.

Are you aware of how many places your Army and Navy have lost in the last two years during America's steady march into the Far East?

Yes. They tell us of the progress of the war.

Why are you being beaten so steadily?

We are not being beaten. We will strike when the time comes.

When do you think the war will end?

They do not tell us that.

[Jitter looked at me and said: "The doctor doesn't understand English, but, as you see, he's a pretty well educated professional man. Now watch what happens when I begin to question him on another track."]

Doctor, have you read America's Bill of Rights?

Yes.

Do you believe, as that document states, that all people have a right to worship God according to their own conscience, without dictation from anyone?

[At this question, the doctor's face sagged and his eyes glazed. His blank look recalled the uncomprehending Osaka sergeant of the first interview.]

I don't understand.

[Jitter put his hand out in an appealing gesture.]

Look. You have read the Bill of Rights. You know that it sets forth certain freedoms, certain protections for the securities of God-fearing peoples. Do you think that document is a good, sensible, right doctrine?

I do not know.

What is a right doctrine for decent human living?

The Emperor's doctrine. [The doctor's spine straightened.]

Would you do anything the Emperor commanded you to do?

Certainly.

Doctor, you consider yourself an honorable man and you believe that the Japanese are an honorable people. Do you think your leaders are truthful, honest and aboveboard?

Yes.

In other words, you feel that, if you think you have a right to something another man has, you ought to go to that man and talk things over sensibly and try to settle the matter rationally and fairly?

Yes.

If, while you were thus talking to that other man, your friend, let's say, came up behind him and stabbed him in the back and grabbed for you the thing you wanted, would you feel that you were getting that thing honorably, fairly?

Of course not.

Did you ever hear of Pearl Harbor?

I have heard of Pearl Harbor.

Did you know that the Japanese sneaked up on Pearl Harbor and, without any warning, stabbed America in the back? Did you know that, at that very moment, two of your most celebrated statesmen were in Washington pleading for Eternal Peace?

No.

Do you believe it?

No.

Jitter looked at the doctor for a few seconds, smiled wearily and nodded his head as if admitting that the whole thing was futile. Then he turned to me and said, "Had enough?" I said I had, and we went out of the tent.

As we left the camp, just as we turned through the gate, we caught a glimpse of the sergeant from Osaka. He was squatting under a tent flap. Picking the scab on his ankle. Every now and then the tic above his right eye would twitch convulsively.

Japanese prisoner awaits questioning by intelligence officer on Guam. July 1944.

 

A Japanese soldier surrendering to three U.S. Marines in the Marshall Islands during January 1944.

Two surrendered Japanese soldiers with a Japanese civilian and two U.S. soldiers on Okinawa. The Japanese soldier on the left is reading a propaganda leaflet.

A U.S. surrender leaflet depicting Japanese POWs. The leaflet's wording was changed from 'I surrender' to 'I cease resistance' at the suggestion of POWs. Text includes explanation of treatment of prisoners of war according to the Geneva Convention.

Japanese POWs practice baseball near their quarters. This photograph was taken with the intention of using it in propaganda leaflets, to be dropped on Japanese-held areas in the Asia-Pacific region. 1 July 1944.

A group of Japanese captured during the Battle of Okinawa.

Japanese Prisoners of War at Guam, with bowed heads after hearing Emperor Hirohito make announcement of Japan's unconditional surrender. 15 August 1945.