The Death March : A couple of soldiers remember the infamous trek on Bataan Peninsula in the Philippines in WWII. In a prisoners’ parade of horror, it was . . .

Even as the United States commemorates the 50th anniversary of World War II, Army veteran Ken Hale is still amazed at how little many Americans know about the war.

Hale, 72, and his friend Joe Verdugo, 74, both served in the Army’s 31st Infantry Regiment in the Philippines at the beginning of the war in December, 1941, and are survivors of the infamous Bataan Death March. Both men became prisoners of war 52 years ago this month, when U.S. and Filipino troops surrendered to the Japanese army on April 9, 1942, after nearly four months of bloody fighting.

Hale, of Garden Grove, has become disheartened to learn recently that Bataan and the march have faded from most people’s memories and are not even a footnote in some history books.

“I was discussing the war with four young high school graduates. Only one knew there had been a World War II and none had ever heard about the Bataan Death March. It hurts. It’s painful, especially when people from the Vietnam generation, who are my kids’ age, tell me they don’t know about Bataan,” Hale said.

When news of the death march reached the United States, Americans rallied around the cry “Remember Bataan,” as the nation intensified the task of training an army and manufacturing the arms and equipment needed to win the war.

The nation was shocked by reports of the 60-mile death march. About 72,000 U.S. and Filipino troops, many of them wounded, walked up to six days in the tropical sun with little water, food and almost no sleep. Nobody knows how many prisoners died during the march. Japanese guards bayoneted stragglers and shot those who left the column to drink from the artesian springs that lined part of the road.

Ramon A. Alcaraz, 79, a Filipino naval officer who also survived the march, said the Japanese guards’ brutality “was due to madness.” Alcaraz, who lives in Orange, was a lieutenant when the war began and went on to become chief-of-staff of the Philippine Navy and graduated from the U.S. War College in 1959.

Verdugo, an Anaheim resident, weighed 198 pounds when he was captured and only 90 pounds when he was liberated after the war. Hale was also a 90-pound skeleton when he was released, down from 170 when he was captured. The two men ended the war working as virtual slave laborers in defense plants in Japan.

Hale and Verdugo have been friends for almost three decades.

Although they were in the same regiment, they did not know each other on Bataan and were in different groups during the grueling march from the peninsula north to Camp O’Donnell, a U.S. Army base converted into a prisoner of war camp by the Japanese.

The march began almost immediately after the surrender of the U.S. and Filipino forces, who were outnumbered 7 to 1 and capitulated after almost running out of food, medicine and ammunition. At the end, the Americans were eating the few remaining horses.

Japanese troops had captured Hong Kong, Singapore, Java and other allied bases with ease, after attacking Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941. When the main Japanese assault on the Philippines began on Dec. 22, Lt. Gen. Masaharu Homma was given 50 days to conquer the islands.

“We whipped the first bunch because we were only outnumbered 2 to 1. When they came back, they outnumbered us 7 to 1,” said Verdugo, who served in the infantry.

Hale, a medic, worked in a field hospital taking care of the wounded. He said the hospital was bombed by Japanese planes on April 8, the day before the surrender, killing about 200 wounded soldiers.

“Every (hospital) building had a red cross painted on it. We had also sewn together several sheets, painted a giant red cross on it and laid it on the ground. They knew they were bombing a hospital. The cross ended up being a hell of a target,” said Hale.

Each man has indelible memories of the march and his experience as a prisoner of the Japanese.

“How can you forget the brutalities? I saw a Filipino soldier make a dash for one of the artesian springs. The Japanese guards walked a few feet, leveled their rifles and shot him. An American was completely exhausted and crawled into a ditch. A Japanese guard walked over and bayoneted him,” said Alcaraz.

“On the third day of the march a major was ready to collapse and told the Japanese he wasn’t going any further,” Verdugo said. “A guard took a whip and started whipping him like a horse. We continued walking but could still hear the beating. The last thing I heard was a grunt, when the major was bayoneted.”

Hale, who has never been able to overcome the bitterness he feels toward the Japanese, still remembers the words of a Japanese officer who addressed some of the U.S. prisoners in broken English before the march began. According to Hale, the officer said:

“Japan and America are enemies and will remain enemies. I hope all of you die, and many of you will die.”

When the U.S. prisoners arrived at Camp O’Donnell, they were separated in groups of 10. They were told that if anyone in the group escaped, the others would be shot. In the struggle to survive, many Americans turned on each other, Hale and Verdugo said.

After a few months at the camp, Verdugo and another prisoner made plans to escape. But they were betrayed by other Americans before the escape plan was completed, Verdugo said. As punishment, he and the other man were forced to kneel on gravel for 12 hours, he added.

“I would’ve turned Joe in, too. If they were in my group, and I knew they were going to try to escape, I would’ve turned them in. It was like that. Everybody wanted to live,” said Hale.

However, death was a daily occurrence at Camp O’Donnell, said Hale, who, with other medics, tried to take care of wounded and sick prisoners. But working without any medicines, the best they could do was make the men comfortable as they waited to die from the effects of dysentery, diphtheria, malaria, beatings, starvation and other maladies, Hale said.

Hale says thousands of Filipinos and Americans died during the first four months of captivity.

“I was on burial detail and can tell you that at one point there were 500 men dying each day. I know, because I counted them,” said Verdugo.

Alcaraz, who was in command of a PT boat when he was taken prisoner, said he and his six other crew members were luckier than many of the Filipinos and Americans who were fighting on Bataan.

“We were in better physical shape to begin with because we were eating relatively well before the surrender. The guys on Bataan were surrounded with no way in or out. So, the march wasn’t as bad on us,” said Alcaraz, who eventually escaped to fight with the guerrillas.

Throughout the battle for Bataan, rumors spread through the U.S. and Filipino ranks that supplies and reinforcements were steaming across the Pacific Ocean from the United States in a convoy of ships that stretched 100 miles. This false hope encouraged the defenders to continue fighting.

“We kept waiting for that 100-mile convoy that we heard was crossing the ocean, coming from America to rescue us. We waited, hoping the story was true. When we surrendered, it was one of the darkest days in my life. It was like the end of the world,” said Alcaraz.