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I just read a book called, "Bataan Death March: A Soldier's Story" by James Bollich. It is his recollection of the almost 4 yrs he spent in the U.S. Army as a prisoner of war in the Philippines, by the Japanese in World War II. This is a poem written by a comrade of his who also survived the atrocities--a man named Jesse Knowles, who later became a Louisiana State Senator. He wrote it while being held captive:

They
Strange things were done under the tropic sun
By the men in khaki twill.
Those tropic nights have seen some sights
That would make your heart stand still.
Those mountain trails could spin some tales
That no man would ever like;
But the worst of all was after the fall
When we started on that hike.

'Twas the 7th of December in '41
When they hit Hawaii as the day begun.
'Twas a Sunday morning and all was calm
When out of nowhere there came the bombs.
It didn't last long but the damage was done--
America was at war with the Rising Sun.

Now over in the Philippines we heard the news;
And it shook every man clean down to his shoes.
It seemed like a dream to begin;
But soon every soldier was a fighting man.
Each branch was ready to do it's part:
Artillery, Infantry, Nichols and dark.

And then they came on that Monday noon,
They hit dark Field like a typhoon.
That Monday night the moon was clear;
They razed Nichols from front to rear.
As the days went by more bombers came;
And soon only a few P-40's remained.

Then the orders came and said retreat,
That no man would be seen on the city streets.
So across the bay we moved at night
Away from Manila and out of sight,
Deep into the jungles of Bataan
Where 15,000 were to make a stand.

Here we fought as a soldier should.
As the days went by we spilled our blood.
Tho' the rumors came and went by night
That convoy never came in sight.

April 7th was a fatal day
When the word went around that we couldn't stay,
That the front line was due to fall;
So the troops moved back one and all.

The very next day the surrender came.
Then we were men without a name!
You may think here's where the story ends,
But actually here's where it begins.
Tho' we fought and didn't see victory
The story of that March will go down in history.

We marched along in columns of four
Living and seeing the horrors of war,
And when a man fell along the way
A cold bayonet would make him pay
For those four months he fought in Bataan.
Then they'd kill him 'cause he couldn't stand.

The tropic sun would sweat us dry
For the pumps were few that we passed by.
But on we marched to a place unknown,
A place to rest and a place to call home.
Home not that you might know,
But home to a man that suffered a blow.

Then to O'Donnell Camp en masse
Some never back through those gates to pass.
In Nipa huts we lived like beasts,
Bad rice and camotes were called a feast.

Our minds went back to days gone by
When our throats were never dry;
Of our wives, our mothers and friends,
Of our bygone days and our many sins.
And about four thousand passed away
And how many more no man can say,
For no tombstone marks the spot
Where thirty to fifty were buried in a lot
Piled together as a rubbish heap--
The remains of men Who were forced to retreat.

Now I want to state, and my words are straight,
And I bet you think they're true,
That if you gotta die it's better to try
And take them with you too.

It's they that took us that fatal day,
It's they that made us pay and pay.
It's they that counted us morn and night,
It's they that again we wanted to fight,
It's they that made us as we are,
But it's not they that'll win this war,
For the men in khaki will come someday
And take us back to the U.S.A.
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I was interested in this because of 2 different stories of my grandparents, ironically one from each side.
My mom's dad Norman Lee Fox was 16 when he enlisted in the U.S. Navy, and before he finished his service, he ended up stationed in Corregidor, off the island of Luzon in the Philippines. When the Japanese invaded, he was held prisoner and experienced 4 yrs of captivity undoubtedly similar to the soldier's who wrote this book. Norman almost died throughout those four years, of the typical afflictions that many of the almost 100,000 prisoners (Filipino and Americans) suffered from, and many died from; hepatitis, dysentery, beriberi, malaria and of course exhaustion, starvation, untreated injuries incurred by Japanese torture. His comrades forced him to eat to stay alive. While I still need to find out all the details, from what I know, he was held captive in Corregidor, then transported to "Camp O'Donnell" (I'm not sure if he took part in the actual Bataan Death March) and then transported on what they called "Hell ships" to another concentration camp in Japan, until the Americans and Russians rescued them in 1945.


This is a picture of him and his crew on the U.S.S. Norton Sound in 1949. Soon after this, he met and married my grandma Elizabeth Eulila Clemens:

He retired as a Chief Warrant Officer for the Navy, and was awarded a Silver Star, the third highest military decoration, for his WWII service. He died in his sleep in 1984. My mom vaguely remembers him talking about what he endured while in the Philippines, but as the other survivors say, there is no way to describe what they saw and felt for those 4 years. The Japanese were endlessly beating, killing, disemboweling, and maiming Americans. They allowed the Filipinos to be freed in 1942, but held onto the Americans. Any Filipinos that tried to help Americans were shot on the spot.

During the 6 day march of 60 miles in tropic heat, many would fall out of line unable to continue--they were many times not allowed to be helped along by others. They were usually run over by the Japanese, and the "clean up crew" would finish them off in any way they pleased. There are also accounts of Japanese driving by with their bayonets out slitting the throats of prisoners walking along them. Needless to say, none of the rules of the Geneva Convention were followed. Many were not allowed edible food (or none at all) and though there were ponds and puddles, and sometimes fountains of water, they were not allowed any. When the delirious would try to get some water, they were immediately shot or beheaded with pleasure.

About 54,000 of the 75,000 that marched, lived at least to reach Camp O'Donnell, where many more died as a result of the conditions. Most of the prisoners were transported to other concentration camps in Japan, on "Hell Ships" where they were packed like sardines in the bottom of the ship, with room only enough to stand, although they could barely do that at the time, as most of the men were badly ill and malnourished to skin and bones. Keep in mind they never were given any bathroom facilities, other than the holes they dug in the ground at camps, which were always covered in flies carrying malaria. While in Japan, the prisoners were forced to do labor at various places, including coal mines and japanese factories. They were forced to live in heavily targeted areas, (another violation of the Geneva Convention) which toward the end resulted in American planes bombing American POW's. If anyone attempted escape, they were not only tortured and killed, and buried in a grave they dug themselves, but many innocent what were called "blood brothers" were also killed to discourage future attempts.

*These photos were taken from http://www.forties.net/WWIIPOWs.html
As the book tells, even after the armistice was signed, it took quite a while to be rescued, and many died even after. The trek back (at least for the men accompanying the author) was still hellish, as stormy waters took the lives of many that were on their way home...their families having just heard that their loved one survived, had to hear that they died on the trip home. The book is a great read and makes you so grateful to the veterans that serve/served our country. I have started another book called Hour of Redemption" also on the POW's in the Philippines.

Oddly enough, I just heard from my brother Reggie in Hawaii, my dad's son from his first marriage. He is making a family tree book--he has been looking into genealogy and told me a few little details about the Gallardo family that I never knew, and still don't even know if my dad knew.
Evidently my dad's mom moved from Hawaii to the Philippines just before WWII started, and was held prisoner in a concentration camp also. While there she was raped by a Japanese guard, and my dad was a result of that...I never knew that and it's kind of wierd to think I am 1/4 Japanese, but worse to think about being related to a horrible rapist. When it was found out that my dad's mom was a U.S. Citizen, she was shipped from the Philippines back to Hawaii, and she gave birth to my dad on the ship. I guess that's why it's been so difficult to find his birth certificate. It's always been interesting to know that members on both sides of my family were POW's, but now I know so much more and want to learn even more. Sadly, I don't have any pictures of my dad's side of the family yet, but I am asking Reggie to send some when he has time. When my mom has all her photos and memoribilia of her dad's sent out her from CA, I will be sure to post more. Thanks for reading if you got this far!