Santo Tomas Liberation Memories
I read with much interest the letter from Henry Annasenz (Feb. 2) concerning his experiences as a soldier during the liberation of Santo Tomas Internment Camp in Manila. As a teen-age internee in Santo Tomas, it brought back some memories of my own.
When it became obvious early in 1942 that we were caught in the Philippines, my father and I, then 15, drove our new 1941 Dodge to the then abandoned Manila docks, which were being bombed by the Japanese, to take whatever food we could find. Hit by shrapnel and with a punctured tire, we drove away in our loaded car and ran smack into the Japanese army moving from the south toward Manila. Detained and held prisoner for two days on the steps of a church without food, my father and I finally made a dash for the car and escaped. With luck, we made it back home, and with my sister planned an escape into the provinces, but were eventually captured and taken to Santo Tomas on Jan. 21, 1942, where we spent almost 37 months.
Food rations during those years in the camp progressively deteriorated, and the mainstay of our diet was soupy rice with small amounts of coconut milk. Occasionally we would catch a stray animal, which would supplement our diet.
On one occasion, I remember an American plane flying over the camp dropping leaflets urging us not to give up hope, and I do recall on Feb. 3, 1945, as Annasenz wrote, the pilot’s goggle case being dropped into camp with the message: “Roll out the barrel, there’s going to be a hot time in the old town tonight.”
I positioned myself on top of the main building in Santo Tomas that evening in order to be a witness to whatever was to happen. I didn’t have to wait long!
After crashing through the main gate, I saw two American tanks slowly making their way to the main building with combat soldiers following behind them. A lone Japanese officer, at one point, came running out of the officer’s quarters shooting his revolver at the lead tank. A burst of machine-gun fire quickly stopped him in his tracks. I think I began to realize at that point that this was the beginning of the end of more than three years of captivity by the Japanese.
As the 1st Cavalry took control of areas of the camp, a group of Japanese soldiers retreated to the Educational Building taking with them hostages, including my father. He and others could be seen being held in front of machine guns at the windows of that building.
The small contingent of American soldiers now had the problem of fighting the Japanese holdouts in the camp while at the same time trying to keep others from coming in from the outside. All this time, the camp was being shelled from the outside by the Japanese. This situation continued for several days. I volunteered to help carry dead and wounded American soldiers into the main building, where the wounded were laid in tandem on the floor and the dead placed in another room. I’ll never forget how I looked into the faces of these young men, barely older than myself, and thought what handsome young Americans they were.
In the meantime, my father, fearing sure death, made his escape with one other prisoner by putting together bed sheets and escaping from the third floor of the building. He was too weak to hang on for long and fell. I later found him among the wounded.
The fighting ceased in the camp after several days when the few remaining Japanese soldiers surrendered on condition that they be granted safe conduct to the main gate and then released. The Americans kept their part of this bargain, but the Japanese suffered a much worse fate at the hands of the Filipinos who were waiting for them with their “bolos.”
I, along with several of my friends, anxious to get into the action, accompanied the U.S. soldiers on a couple of their patrols outside the camp.
On April 13, my family, along with other released internees, were loaded onto the USS Eberly and taken back to the States, where I, as well as many of my contemporary internees eventually ended up in the service during the Korean conflict.
DENNIS J. GREENE
Palos Verdes Estates
I was thrilled to read Annasenz’s letter concerning the 40th Anniversary of the liberation of Manila--we were there! We all owe a debt of gratitude not only to Gen. Douglas MacArthur but to all the members of the First Cavalry, our gallant rescuers.
Perhaps Annasenz would be interested to learn how our liberation came about. There was an English missionary in Santo Tomas who was the official interpreter. He was cordially hated by many as he was so “friendly” with the Japanese. Little did we know that he was a member of British Intelligence. As the end grew near and the Japanese more desperate, they determined to take as many victims with them as possible. Our English “missionary” saw the orders on the commandant’s desk--put all the men in one of the buildings and blow it up, take the women and children out and use them as hostages. He got word to one of the guards at the gate (a Nisei smuggled in by submarine), who got word to the guerrillas to tell Gen. MacArthur of our plight. Accordingly, the First Cavalry were ordered to come to our rescue.
These men of the 1st Cavalry, who had been away from home for many months, engaged in fierce fighting, behaved like true heroes. As one of them remarked, “This is the first time this war has made sense to us--we have saved our own people.”
They gave us all their emergency rations, were kind and gentle in all respects. I well remember several of them sitting on the floor of our nipa shanty, gazing adoringly at me, symbol of home, saying “What state are you all from, Ma’am?” They played with the children, also symbols of home. Never, never can we forget the debt we owe them! I am so glad to have this opportunity to express my thanks to at least one member of that gallant troop.
KATHLEEN C. WATSON
Pasadena