As Veterans Day rapidly approaches, many Americans focus on the heroic sacrifices made by military service personnel. Thousands have surrendered their lives in the fight for freedom. One global conflict that touches the hearts of both Americans and Filipinos is World War II.
One battle in particular that brings tears to the eyes of gray-headed veterans of both countries is the Battle of Bataan, where 11,000 heroic defenders of Corregidor (Spanish: "corregir" meaning to correct) held out against a horrific Japanese bombardment. Over 12,000 shells crashed down on the tiny island every 24 hours rendering sleep impossible. The defenders' ears bled due to the concussive effects produced by the earthshaking explosions overhead.
History further tells us how the Japanese Army, after defeating the battered defenders, ignored all standards of human decency by their barbaric treatment of the prisoners. Today Bataan is quiet, though the battered remains of the bombed-out gray buildings stand as a silent testament to the horror of that awful time.
First Steps
Manila traffic being what it is, we left home four hours early to give ourselves ample time so as not to miss the boat for Bataan. Arriving an hour early at the dockside office near the Manila Yacht Club, my party and I purchased round-trip tickets for Corregidor, Bataan, that place of heroes. At 8:15 a.m. our party—my wife, a few relatives, and I—boarded a small Japanese-registry freighter, the T.S. Ho-Ho, which would ferry us to Bataan. The ship filled up in minutes. The passengers were from assorted nations but were mostly Americans, Filipinos, and other Asians, including a few Japanese.
Minutes after the boarding, the little ship set sail for Corregidor. A few minutes out of harbor my wife and I struck up a conversation with another American couple who, to our surprise, were from Evanston, an upscale suburb on the northern border of Chicago, a few miles from our home and one of Chicago's many colorful neighborhoods. Small world, we were neighbors! The husband and wife had met and married in Manila while working in the Peace Corps. Now they were retired and visiting their former "stomping ground."
On to Bataan
The sight of the island looming closer as we sailed with the Manila skyline behind us could have been taken directly from a picture postcard. The sight of Bataan in the foreground was a sight of rarest beauty. There were still blue waters, the quiet morning air with sea gulls gliding overhead, and small fishing boats with nets manned by fisherman who leisurely lowered and lifted their nets hauling in their great catch for the day. Even the low and constant drone of the ship's engines made our spirits soar. It was so quiet onboard our craft that voices could be heard from the tiny boats making their way back to Manila.
About halfway to our destination the ship's crew served a light refreshment of fruit juices, local edibles, icy cold bottles of San Miguel Beer, various other food items, and offered souvenirs of the island fortress. About an hour later the T.S. Ho-Ho tied up alongside Bataan's tiny harbor. As I looked over the side I saw hundreds, if not thousands, of tiny milky-white jellyfish wiggling their way through the water. Many jellyfish species in the Philippines are highly toxic. If some unlucky visitor would have fallen over the side, he or she would be in "a world o' hurt." After we disembarked and were all ashore, our tour guide led us to the bus to start the land roving part of the day-long tour.
The first hour of our tour consisted of a drive around the island. We stopped for pictures at Corregidor's various historic military installations. The huge guns, now silent, once guarded the island from any enemy encroachments until the Japanese invaded in 1941.
The old Spanish lighthouse afforded a breathtaking 360-degree view of the entire island. The bombed-out administration buildings and barracks stood like eerie ghosts from the not-to-distant past. And the gift shop sells all sorts of knick-knacks, from food to cheap and expensive artifacts and other tourist items. Soon we were rolling again towards our next destination.
Fortress Corregidor
Corregidor was specifically designed to provide potential enemies with one monumental headache, as imperial Japan would find out. In 1941, shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor, hordes of Japanese aircraft flew overhead and soldiers, sailors, and ships of the Empire of Japan descended on the Philippines like a swarm of angry locusts.
But the Japanese were in for the shock of their lives when they attempted to seize Bataan and fortress Corregidor. The sheer tenacity of combined U.S. and Philippine forces temporarily halted the Japanese juggernaut in its tracks. This bought valuable time needed to hold the enemy in place until the free world was ready to wage proper war against a determined and fanatical foe.
It is ironic that near the end of the war the Japanese troops holed up in the island fortress would commit mass suicide just as Allied forces were attempting to recapture the island and its fortress. Rather than be taken alive, the enemy shouted one last "Banzai!" then blew themselves up.
The tour buses emptied themselves of passengers at the entrance of the Malinta Tunnel. Once we were all inside this tunnel-bunker we were treated with a lecture, a sight-and-sound show about the history and the role the tunnel played in forestalling the surging Japanese invaders. In the semi-darkness we were escorted from diorama to diorama as the lecturer explained the significance of certain grim yet heroic aspects of the Battle of Bataan.
To make it all seem real, special effects made the ground "shake" and the lights flicker at the sound of "bombs" exploding overhead in celebration of the Japanese Emperor's birthday! It all seemed so real, like actually being there. One could almost taste the extreme fear that dried the mouths and went through the minds of the besieged defenders 65 years ago.
We were shown the spot where the retreating U.S. General Douglas McArthur, then Philippine President Manuel Quezon, and selected staff members all disembarked for Australia by submarine leaving the second in command General Jonathan Wainwright and the 75,000 troops to fend for themselves. There were even sections of the old rail line that once ferried munitions and military and civilian personnel in and out of the tunnel before the enemy poured in.
There were the rooms where various American and Philippine officials slept before setting out underwater under enemy defenses to freedom, the small chapel where the last Masses were celebrated, the quarters of the overworked medical personnel, and the dining room where the battered defenders managed their last meals before being taken as prisoners of war.
Forced to march to Camp O'Donnell some 90 Miles (145 km) away, over 10,000 prisoners died en route mostly from the inhumane treatment at the hands of their captors. The tour was brutally informative and one which I recommend to any history-buff tourist to the Philippines.
Cultural Cuisine
When the tunnel tour ended we boarded our buses and were driven to a local restaurant for an authentic Filipino meal. I had kari-kari, a local delicacy consisting of tripe, ox tails, and strips of eggplant and other vegetables all smothered in a delicious peanut sauce, served over white rice. To add flavor to the meal a small dish of sine guan (salted shrimp paste or "little dead fish" as I affectionately label it) was proffered in a small dish beside my plate. Sine guan, like the Hawaiian side dish poi, tastes best when served with regular meal dishes. Served alone, sine guan or poi is unappealing to the palate; however, serving them with meals seems to bring out the food's natural tastes. A bottle of San Miguel beer was my beverage of choice. For dessert, there was a nice assortment of Philippine cakes to choose from. I chose leche flan, the Philippine version of crème brulèe.
After the meal it was back to the buses. As we drove, our guide, who appeared to have held an advanced degree in Asian and American studies, lectured us on the little known points of World War II as well as of the Spanish, American, and Japanese occupations. He answered our questions as we traveled and I marveled at the man's knowledge of history.
Remembering the Fallen
Near the completion of the tour we stopped to visit the Japanese soldiers cemetery, more gun emplacements, the Quezon Monument—a monument dedicated to all those who fought and died in the War in the Pacific—and its attendant museum. On our way back to the beach our guide and lecturer informed us that the Japanese government very recently had the bodies of their dead disinterred from the Japanese soldiers cemetery for reburial back in Japan. Though much of the semi-guided tour centered on Japan and its sordid history during the war years, the only Japanese we saw on the tour were four Japanese male tourists on the ride over.
We got back on the bus for the final time. Once we were dockside, we parted company with our very knowledgeable guide and re-boarded the T.S. Ho-Ho. And not a minute too soon! The little ship promptly set sail back to Manila—on time to the second. We arrived back in Manila in what seemed like half the time it took the ship to get to Bataan. The trip was enjoyable and the tour a true learning experience. Yet, what was hard for me personally was to realize that the beach where the brave defenders of Bataan suffered and died is now a resort for tourists. It has become a place were tourists can frolic and swim completely oblivious to the bones of the heroic dead just inches below the sand.
This article is an excerpt from Chapter 3 Corregidor (pp. 18-22) of Philippine Adventures, a travel guide to the Philippines and a book in progress. The writer would enjoy hearing from interested readers and invites any and all questions about the Philippines. Write to: vamaxwell@yahoo.com or vamaxwell2@gmail.com.
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