And now that protection was gone. All those fresh young faces lost because Japan wanted New Guinea, and the American presence in Pearl Harbor stood in the way of that.
They’d heard General MacArthur himself on the Radiola just the night before declare that the Philippines were “the key that unlocks the door to the Pacific.”
Reports of General MacArthur:
The Campaigns of MacArthur in the Pacific Volume I
Prepared by his general staff. Library of Congress 66-60005
The Japanese understood this completely, for the islands lay directly athwart their path of future aggression.
Close to South China and the island stronghold of Formosa, they were not only an obstacle to Japan’s international ambitions, but they could be made into a powerful strategic springboard for their drive south and eastward.
Flanking the vital sea routes to the south, they were the hub of the transportation system to Southeast Asia and the Southwest Pacific; from the Philippines, lines of communication radiated to Java, Malaya, Borneo, and New Guinea. Economically too, they were necessary to Japan’s grandiose scheme of the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere.
As a thriving democracy, the Philippines were a living symbol of American political success in Asia and a direct negation of the national and moral principles represented by Japan. The Japanese were convinced that the Philippines must be conquered.
And Dorothy’s little family was sitting in Iloilo, on the southern tip of the island of Panay, smack dab between Japan and the immense natural resources of New Guinea that Japan was determined to control.
It was time to leave Iloilo.
Fred’s memoir
Although the War clouds were continually evident and we were given permission by our New York Office to return to the States, without criticism, our attitude was that we felt a “Call” to be in the Philippines and whatever befell, we would share with the Filipinos. We went on record in the vernacular press that such was our intention. After a time, it was not possible to get transportation out of the Philippines.
Later we learned that it was a policy of the U.S. State Department to not encourage missionaries to return in order to stabilize conditions or avoid panic among Americans abroad. Nevertheless, the tensions mounted and we listened with increasing interest to radio reports from San Francisco KGEI.
At a “bull session” in the home of a Filipino banker and Chairman of the College Board, a USA Colonel said there was nothing to worry about since the Japanese would never reach Philippine shores but would be intercepted at sea and destroyed.
The School practiced “air raid and blackout” drills. There were constant rumors of spies in the area. A large community of Japanese and flashing lights at night convinced some that more was happening than the average person was aware of.
Our last news from USA was on Saturday night before Pearl Harbor on KGEI. At breakfast Monday morning, we heard Don Bell tell of the Pearl Harbor attack and the attack on Manila.
We agreed the College should carry on. An assembly was called and air raid precautions were made. The Assembly dismissed and the students went out singing, “Are We Downhearted? No! No! No!”
All went well until noon. Then the parents began to arrive on Campus to take their children home. Within twenty-four hours the Campus was devoid of students. Mr. Covell and I went to the City Jail to see what we could do for Japanese nationals who were being confined. However, the City Officials would not permit us to visit the Jail but indicated everything was “all right”.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
LOOK TO THE HILLS
Fred’s memoir
The first baptism of “fire” came on December 18th. Forty heavy Japanese fighter planes came over the Campus, then turned and leveled off to strafe the Cadre (two transports unloading Filipino soldiers on the wharf and a Dutch Oil tanker). We had no way of knowing at the time what their targets were. For forty minutes the planes circled, dropped their empty shells over the Campus; we could hear them hit the plantain leaves as we took shelter in previously dug air raid shelters.
Strong, damaging blasts that she knew had to be taking life and limb persisted near the port. It wasn’t the first time Iloilo had been hit, but the succession of blasts and the trembling house told her this was going to be bad. Dorothy crouched in the shelter and kept the children occupied, although Bobby managed quite well on his own.
“A pane! A pane come make-a fonny noise!”
Even with wads of cotton stuffed in his ears, the child still tracked every sound he heard coming from every side. Coming from places too close for comfort.
The ground trembled in one long, continuous shudder, sending small rivers of pebble and dirt streaming to the dugout floor.
When the all-clear sounded, Dorothy helped Fred load the car with the emergency bags they always had ready before she rushed off to the hospital. He would take the children and Ann Waters—now close to full term in her pregnancy—upcountry to Bagong Barrio, a missionary rest house on the northern tip of the island of Panay, about a five-hour drive.
Dorothy and Dr. Waters had already begun the process of moving the hospital to Calinog in the center of the island, but there would be many to care for at the nearly abandoned mission hospital in Iloilo after a bombing raid of this magnitude. And Dorothy knew that is where she was called to be. She left her little family preparing to flee to safety while she headed into the thick black smoke of the scourged city.
Rosa had proven to be a master at packing, and due to her special gift, there was room in the car for more provisions than they had originally expected. The young Filipina amah ran with Fred back into the house and together they shoved canned goods and anything reasonably non-perishable into flour sacks. He was just closing up after his last trip to the car when the telephone rang, its urgent peal freezing him for a moment before he shot the key back into the lock and opened the door to snatch up the receiver.
“Fred! Why are you still there!” Dorothy’s voice held an unfamiliar edge that sent ripples of unease along his spine.
“Just leaving, darling. Car’s packed, kiddies are stowed and I’m just locking up. Where are you?”
“At the hospital, darling. Lots of injured. Henry and I should get to Bagong Barrio before morning, I think. But Fred! You have to go now! They say a Japanese warship has entered the harbor!”
Fred was stricken with fear. Not for himself, but for Dorothy who was miles closer to the danger than he was at the moment.
A Japanese vessel of war in the harbor. The very thought of it froze the blood in his veins.
“Darling. I love you. Go now.”
The line went dead.
. . . .
Fred’s memoir
The report of the Japanese warship proved to be a rumor.
Dr. Waters and family and we, with our children, shared the same house near the hospital in Calinog. After a time, General Chinowith, USAFFE (U.S. Air Force in the Far East) official in charge of the Panay area (they were building runways for military use) asked me to serve as an adviser to the recuperating Filipino soldiers and to plan for rehabilitation camps on the islands of Panay and Negros. General Christy offered me a Commission, but I preferred to serve as a civilian. His remark was, “I envy you”.
On Sunday, before April 15th, the missionaries held a conference at Bagong Barrio to discuss plans for action in case of invasion. Rumors of the imminent fall of Bataan and Corregidor kept coming in.
Among the ideas suggested was that Mrs. Covell and I go to the Campus and be there if and when the Japanese invaded to explain that the College was a Filipino Corporation and therefore, not subject to destruction as American property. Because she spoke Japanese fluently, Mrs. Covell agreed.
However, it was the opinion of the majority that the Japanese might come in “fighting” and overrun the Campus, with no opportunity to talk with high officials. That proved to be the case later. The final decision of the conf
erence was that half the group would go into the “Hills” and try to be of help where possible and the other half, related to institutions, would remain in their respective hospitals. The Capiz Hospital had been moved down from the north coast.
Dorothy slipped through the bamboo curtain that separated their side of the nipa hut from Ann and Henry Waters and their children.
“How’s the patient?” Fred asked.
“Remarkably well,” Dorothy replied as she stowed her instruments. “She’s close, Fred. The baby will come soon.”
“I guess that’s...good?”
Dorothy sighed heavily. “Good. Yes. I suppose.”
Words had come hard in recent days. Dorothy had always known her mind, her heart, her mission, her course. That surety had kept communication clear and open and free.
But she and Fred had not settled their future aloud, and now she was doubting the decision they’d all but verbalized.
I want to go to the hills. It just feels safer.
Or maybe not.
How would I keep watch for them? Where would I look?
Which way will they be coming from, when they’re ready to kill us?
And they will kill us, Dorothy thought, not for the first time.
I’d be the example of why not to run from the Japanese. A martyr, maybe. But architect of my children’s end?
I can’t do that.
Dorothy folded the children’s clothes she’d just taken from the laundry line and placed them in the “gotta go” bag. There was going to be a day when they would once again need to gather their things quickly. Not in minutes, but in seconds. The gotta-go bags were always ready. Always. With bits of money and medicines spread between the bags so if they lost one, they didn’t lose it all. Dorothy already carried their birth certificates in a small pouch hung around her neck.
The tacit agreement between Fred and Dorothy seemed to indicate internment was their plan. They would be found by the Japanese in the hospital and taken into custody.
Internment!
Walking right into their arms?
How do I do that?
How do I take my babies by the hand and say, “Here we are, unwelcome army. We’ll stay in your ‘confined community’. We’ll carry on with our lives at the point of your guns every day.”
I can’t do that.
The hills are so green and dense. How could they find us there?
Surely we could hide! Just for a few months. Surely it can’t take more than a few months. Our president promised us that.
I can live in a hole in the ground for a few months. I can make it an adventure for Bobby and Carol. I can do it.
I should do it.
I have to keep them away from the guns.
“Dorothy?”
Fred’s voice came to her from a great distance. Farther away than the front porch, farther away than the yard of the little Philippine nipa hut. Much farther. It came from beyond the green hills, the ones so clear in Dorothy’s mind that she had felt for a moment that she was already there. Farther than “the hills whence cometh my help”.
“Hey, pretty lady. You all right?”
Fred’s arms encircled her waist. Strong, steady, comforting, safe.
“Say it, Fred.”
“What?”
“Say it. We have to say it. We have to speak it out loud.”
Fred touched his forehead to hers. In the way it had always been in their marriage, he knew what she meant.
“If I say it, I’m not speaking for you. You have to say what your heart tells you, too. Deal?”
She nodded.
In his quiet, measured voice, Fred repeated their strategy.
“We know that if we run to the hills, the Filipinos will help us hide. But we know, too, that if they’re caught helping us, they won’t survive. We know that. Right? So we must stay with the hospital. Hope the Japanese will honor our Red Cross. When we think they will be upon us soon, we’ll move our things to the hospital. We’ll burn the military pass and hide the car. We’ll live at the hospital however long it takes for them to find us. We’ll submit to their questions. We’ll shelter our children. We’ll go where they take us. We’ll manage.”
Dorothy listened, and with each word her heart began to calm.
“We’ll manage,” she echoed. “Yes. We’ll manage.”
She looked up into his face and knew that he saw resolution in her eyes. At last she was fully on board.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CALINOG
“I wish you wouldn’t, Fred.”
“I have to, darling. We have most of the college’s administrative papers moved to the cave already. Just a few more trips and we’ll be done.”
“But—”
He pecked her on the cheek and picked up his car key. “Just a few more trips. We’ll be starting the college back up as soon as all this is over and we’d just be in such a mess without the records. I know you understand.”
“But—”
He was halfway out the door. “But what?” he called back over his shoulder.
“Just you wait a minute, Fred Chambers.”
That halted him in his tracks, but at the same moment Bobby, who was at the table eating his morning porridge, heard a rousing song come on the radio and decided to wave his spoon in time to the music.
The result was widespread, and porridge flew in forty-leven directions about the eating porch of their little Bagong-Barrio nipa hut. And a particularly large glop landed on Dorothy’s cheek.
She stood stock-still, wind taken out of her sails, becalmed in a sea of porridge.
And sighed.
“We’ll talk when you get back, darling. Be careful. And—”
Fred caught the glop of porridge in his hand as it began to slip from her cheek and kissed her on the relatively safe top of her head.
“I know, I know. Get back before dark.”
Dorothy huffed. “Don’t you dare try these roads without running lights. I absolutely forbid it. Promise me, Fred.”
Fred kissed her again and instead of his usual flippant “scouts honor” salute he put his hand over his heart. “I promise.”
Fred sprinted out the door and Dorothy turned to clean up the mess.
“Oh Bobby. You’re a sorry little mess! But I will say that your sense of rhythm is tickety-boo.”
. . . .
Fred navigated the roads as quickly as he could. There was too much to move to the hidden cave in one trip. He’d have to make two, if not three. Load the car with just the critical files, banking papers, student records and a dozen other types of document they’d identified. Then drive two miles to the cave in the hills where they’d stashed raised crates to conceal the valuable papers. It was the coldest, driest cave he could find.
He was college president. He took his personal charge to safeguard these things very seriously. In a few months when this was over, they’d do the reverse. Bring the documents back down to campus
The final trip to the cave went without a hitch, but he’d cut the time shorter than he’d planned. Still, he needed to check one more time for any mail that might have made it through. Dorothy needed word from home so desperately, and he desperately needed to make that happen for her.
He raced down a side street and whipped around the corner. The Post Office lay straight ahead. Quiet. Unoccupied. Bombed out.
There would be no word from home. Not by mail, at any rate.
The crescent moon that skated behind scattered clouds gave him just enough light to get himself back to the Calinog campsite. Still, each time he sensed an approaching vehicle his heart was in his throat. In the dark he could no longer discern friend or foe.
. . . .
The Radiola worked in fits and starts lately, interrupting the broadcast with just enough static that the message was almost obliterated. But still they listened. Station KGEI was their lifeline to the greater world. As long as the broadcasts
kept coming, they felt connected.
The thought of losing the radio was unfathomable. It tethered them in a way nothing else could. Without it, they’d be cast adrift.
The voice they listened to was familiar now. As familiar as a family member. A fatherly friend. A mentor.
The voice belonged to General Douglas MacArthur.
And he was leaving the Philippines.
Fred watched silent tears roll down Dorothy’s cheeks. MacArthur had left the islands.
Reports of General MacArthur:
The Campaigns of MacArthur in the Pacific Volume I
Prepared by his general staff. Library of Congress 66-60005
March 11, 1942 - “The President of the United States ordered me to break through the Japanese lines and proceed from Corregidor to Australia for the purpose, as I understand it, of organizing the American offensive against Japan, a primary objective of which is the relief of the Philippines. I came through and I shall return.”
I shall return.
The words were meant to bolster, but Fred could see they left his wife momentarily bereft. MacArthur had abandoned the Philippines. Behind him, 90,000 American and Filipino troops were losing their hold on Corregidor and the Bataan Peninsula, leaving defenseless civilians elsewhere in the islands with no military support.
A steady stream of static signaled the end of the broadcast. Fred stood and clicked the radio off. With his back to Dorothy, he reached for her. His thumb rubbed slowly across the back of her hand. Back and forth, back and forth, giving comfort even as he received it.
“It won’t be long now,” he whispered. His words felt like a direct hit from a long-anticipated warhead. “Be ready.”
KGEI Wartime News Broadcasts — San Francisco
The only radio heard in the Pacific
http://bayarearadio.org/schneider/kgei/kgei.shtml
KGEI received considerable attention during World War II. As a private radio station, GE had no explicit news editorial policy. Its programs included, however, the personal isolationist views of well-known figures such as Charles Lindbergh, and some contemporary congressmen.
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