Blood Brothers by Eugene C. Jacobs (i can read book club TXT) 📕

No water available! We tore up clothing for bandages, and hoped a miracle might help.

Large fires were burning in the stern of the ship where a bomb had made a direct hit. We couldn’t understand why Admiral Halsey’s pilots had not been informed that American prisoners were aboard the Oryoku Maru.

It was disturbing to be bombed by our own Navy aviators “our friends.” Yet, I couldn’t bear them any ill will. They obviously didn’t know!

Mr. Wata, the diminutive and deformed Japanese interpreter, appeared at the top of the hold, and shouted down, “Abandon ship! Remove all clothing! Wounded must come up first! All of you leave ship!”

As the first fifty wounded reached the deck, back came the planes strafing and bombing. Many of those reaching the deck were killed or further wounded. In a few minutes we got a second opportunity to go up the ladder. Knowing I would have to swim,

I removed my shoes and outer clothing; I discarded them with my medical bag and “our” precious can of Spam. The rungs of the ladder were very sharp and painful to my bare feet. By the time I had reached the deck I was exhausted.

I was suddenly aware that three planes overhead were diving! I believed I must get away from the ship and fast. I ran across the deck toward the nearest shore and jumped off-just like in, the movies. Some five decks below, I hit the water and descended about twenty feet; it was a desperate struggle through oceans of green water to reach the surface and God’s good fresh air.

The planes were pulling out of their dives-they had dropped nothing. They had spotted the waving prisoners in the water, circled around, dipped their wings, and disappeared. I saw a piece of bamboo floating in the water, pushing it; I slowly paddled toward shore, about one-half mile away. Lt. Toshino and Mr. Wata, still on the ship, were shooting prisoners possibly the “coup de grace” rather freely.

As we neared shore we were rounded up in a group in waist-deep water; there we remained all day-shivering from cold and fright.

We were in Subic Bay, a large and beautiful harbor, and the site of a large U.S. Naval base (Olangapo). We were surrounded with the jungles and mountains of Bataan. Cy Delong and I decided we would climb up on the sea wall and rest. As we were sitting there watching the group in the water nearby, a Jap guard came out of the woods behind us, his bayonet dripping with blood; he raised his rifle and put a shot straight through Cy’s heart, his chest spouting blood.

I wasted no time in jumping into the water and losing myself in the group.

Twice during the afternoon, Navy planes returned and bombed the ship with incendiaries-producing intense fires and many explosions.

Tennis Court: Toward evening, we were ordered to come ashore, each four prisoners to carry a wounded man. Dripping wet, we were herded through the forest for about one - half mile to a large tennis court on the naval base.

A count showed 1,340 survivors. We had lost 286 men. Again, there was not enough room on the court for everyone to sit down. As the sun went down it became very chilly. There was nothing to eat all day.

Even though it was a great relief to be off the ill-fated Oryoku Maru, nobody slept. The concrete surfaces became harder and harder as the hours wore on. The mosquitoes became very enthusiastic about our bare arms and legs.

Dee. 16, 1944: The warmth of the sun felt good. We improvised a hospital at one end of the court. We tore up clothing for bandages and broke up pieces of wood for splints. Many prisoners had serious burns: faces were swollen and blistered, eyes were closed by edema, and lips were puffed and cracked. Men who had swallowed oil were retching and vomiting. Some had inhaled fumes and were coughing uncontrollably. Fortunately the open air therapy was good for burns. Many survivors were covered with oil; a very real problem.

My friend Ed, the chaplain, in spite of his painful wound, quickly sized up the situation. He obtained a bar of soap, a safety razor and some cloth and water. Ed spent the day washing faces and shaving beards, trying to bring comfort to his patients.

The pleasant sun of the morning turned into a blistering heat in the afternoon; there was no shade. Again, no food!

The Japs were jittery themselves; they were thoroughly unhappy over the frequent bombings of the ship. We got blamed for the bombings, so no food!

The night was cold with occasional rain. Croupy coughs developed in all sections of the court. I felt I was growing thinner by the hour; my bony prominences were making an effort to poke through my skin.

Prisoners were extremely restless and angry; they kept up a constant chatter all night. The guards became very annoyed and threatened to shoot into the court. “Be quiet! Ve vill shoot in the dalk!”

Dee. 17, 1944: One sack of raw rice for 1340 prisoners-averaged out to four teaspoons per person. The night was very cold. I couldn’t get my mind off the clothing, medical bag and Spam that I had abandoned on the ship. Three patients died during the night. The count was now

1,337.

 

Dee. 18th: Everyone had eye irritation; one sack of raw rice. A truck load of worn-out Japanese summer underwear arrived. As usual there was not enough to go around. Two died. The count was now 1,335.

Dec. 19th: The Oryoku Maru rolled on its side and sunk out of sight, ending the periodic explosions. One sack of rice, many croupy coughs. Bitter cold night-prisoners can’t sleep. Much chattering; guards furious kept threatening to shoot. Two died. The count was now 1,333.

Dec. 20th: A Marine officer’s arm was becoming gangrenous; Lt. Col. Jack Schwartz amputated the arm with only a jack knife and no anesthetic. The marine lived only a few hours before giving his last sigh of relief. One sack of rice. Three deaths. The count, 1,330.

Thirty trucks arrived; 681 prisoners were put on the trucks bound for the jail in San Fernando, Pampanga. Now there was more room to lie down. No sleeping; many hacking coughs.

Dec. 21st: The thirty trucks came back; our remaining group 648 - were put aboard for the trip to San Fernando. I got a good look at the Olongapo Naval Base as we passed through; it h d been completely destroyed. One death today. The count - 1,329.

A very hot and dusty trip. We were afraid the U.S. planes might discover the large clouds of dust raised by our convoy. We arrived at an empty theater, which offered cover and some protection from cold and mosquitoes.

Dec. 22, 1944: Received five sacks of cooked rice two cups each a real treat.

“They are probably fattening us up for who knows what!”

Toward evening, Mr. Wata, the Jap interpreter, entered the theater and inquired, “Who is too sick or too disabled to continue journey to Japan?”

He asked our medics to select fifteen disabled. We thought we were doing the fifteen disabled a favor, and actually envied them. They would be going back to Bilibid in Manila.

Wata took the prisoners away in a truck supposedly to Bilibid.

We learned that the Japs took the prisoners to the local cemetery, forced them to dig their own graves, and then bayoneted them, so they fell in the graves. A most miserable night.

Dec. 24th: Sunday - About 0900 hours, we were marched down the street barefooted and in rags to the railroad station. The Nips enjoyed prodding and goading us especially in front of the Filipinos to show the superiority of the yellow race. We arrived at a very badly damaged station. There were ten

small freight cars with an engine at each end standing on a siding; 131 prisoners were crowded into and on top of each car. There was barely room to stand in the cars; it was stifling; it was difficult to breathe the hot air; in fact there wasn’t enough air to breathe.

It took nearly eighteen hours to go the one hundred miles north to the end of the line at San Fernando, La Union. On the way, I passed out. When I came to, I found myself lying on the floor with prisoners sitting on me. Fortunately I had found a crack in the floor through which I could breathe.

Dee. 25, 1944: Monday - We arrived at the station about 0300 hours after much thirst, hunger and misery. There were several dead on the floor of each car. We spent the remainder of the night on the gravel terrace about the station. Most prisoners had dysentery, so the area was soon filthy.

As the sun rose, we were lined up and marched through the streets. Japanese soldiers, hanging out many windows and doors, were laughing and joking as they spotted us odd characters passing by. We were taken to a school yard. The school house became our hospital. Every survivor was extremely weak. We were given a half cup of cooked rice for our Christmas dinner.

About 2000 hours, as we were settling down for the night, we were routed out for tenko (counting) - 1,308.

We then marched several miles to the beach. No one volunteered to help us medics carry the sick and wounded. We dug holes in the sand for windbreaks, and huddled together for warmth. It was too cold to sleep!

Dee. 26, 1944: About 0500 hours, we were divided into groups of one hundred, and each prisoner issued a rice ball. As usual, there wasn’t enough to go around.

Our groups were taken one at a time out into Lingayen Gulf to bathe. It was very pleasant while it lasted. The beach soon became very hot. We received three teaspoons of water to drink. Two died. The count -

1,306.

 

Dee. 27, 1944: In a series of short marches, we crossed a small peninsula to a pier. Six large transports were anchored in the gulf. There were fourteen sunken vessels visible above water.

Landing barges were bringing about fifty Japanese soldiers at a time to the beach with many boxes of ammunition. The barges then came over to our pier to take on some fifty prisoners.

High waves made it very difficult to get on the barge; I had to jump down about ten feet onto the bouncing front deck. I was surprised that my “toothpick” legs didn’t buckle under the jolt. We started out to a transport with a No.2 on the stack, the Brazil Maru. An air raid alarm sounded!

In the confusion our landing craft was directed to an empty transport marked No.1, the Enoura Maru. We were soon up the long ladder, and put in the forward hold; then we were divided into groups of twenty.

This time there was plenty of room and an abundance of fresh air, but it was very cold.

On the level above us were hundreds of sick and wounded Japanese soldiers returning to Japan. They were dressed in army caps, long white gowns, g-strings, and field shoes. No food; no water! But the Jap soldiers were eating their regular meals three times daily. Steel decks very hard! Unable to sleep.

Dee. 28, 1944: Thursday-Under way at dawn! Again, no food; no water; Jap patients getting three regular meals on time. A few prisoners were trying to trade jewelry for food. Most of us had nothing to trade. Manure and flies were very bad.

When I attempted to stand, I blacked out. One died; we wrapped him in a straw mat, had a brief religious ceremony, and then slid him over the side. The count, (?) 1,305.

Col. Harold Johnson, our C.O.,