by John Grisham
The plan was to attack with hand grenades and ignite a massive fireball, but the guerrillas were not close enough. The target was tempting, but Major Banning wisely backed off. He signaled DuBose a hundred yards away. DuBose agreed and the guerrillas withdrew even deeper. The convoy inched along and was soon out of sight.
The hike back to base was dispiriting.
* * *
—
The clear skies brought not only waves of mosquitoes but waves of Zeros and scout planes as well. Granger feared the Japanese knew his location and were closing in, though he still maintained that a ground assault was unlikely. The enemy had shown little interest in a prolonged fight up the mountain into forbidding territory. What worried Granger, though, was a threat from the air. A few well-aimed bombs could do immeasurable damage. He met daily with his commanders and discussed moving the base, but they were not in favor of it. They were heavily camouflaged. Their supplies and armaments were untouchable in the caves. Moving the base would create too much activity that might be noticed from the air. They were at home and felt as though they could defend anything.
An informant had passed along the news that the Japanese were offering a bounty of $50,000 on the head of Lord Granger, but, typically, he took it as an honor. Rewards of up to $5,000 were offered for the capture of any American officer involved with the resistance.
One afternoon, over a game of cribbage and a cup of tea, Granger handed Pete a small green metal box about the size of a brick but much lighter. At one end there was a dial and a switch. Granger explained, “Called a Lewes bomb, a new toy from a bomb maker in Manila. Inside is a pound of plastic explosive, a quarter pound of thermite, a bit of diesel fuel, and a detonator. The back side is magnetized. Stick it to the side of an airplane near the fuel tank, turn the dial, flip the switch, run like hell, and a few minutes later enjoy the fireworks.”
Pete admired it and set it on the table. “Brilliant.”
“Cooked by a British commando named Jock Lewes in North Africa. Our boys there wiped out entire fleets of Italian and German planes. Bloody good idea if you ask me.”
“And so?”
“And so the Nips have a hundred Zeros at Fort Stotsenburg, the bloody buggers that are tormenting us. I’m thinking about a raid. You know the place well, I take it.”
“Very well. It was the home of the Twenty-Sixth Cavalry. I spent time there before the hostilities.”
“Can it be done, Major? Nips would never see it coming. Dangerous as hell, though.”
“Is this an order?”
“Not yet. Think about it. You and DuBose, forty men. Forty more from a base operating above Stotsenburg. The Lewes bombs can be delivered from Manila to a post near the fort. From here it’s a three-day hike, grueling. I’m thinking that you go prepared for the raid, and have a look. Security is tight, Nips on the ground everywhere. If it’s impossible, back away and don’t get hurt.”
“I like it,” Pete said, still admiring the Lewes bomb.
“We’ve got maps, the layout and all. Plenty of intelligence on the ground. You’ll be in command, it’s all yours. And you probably won’t come back.”
“When do we leave?”
“Are you strong enough, what with the shivers and all?”
“We’ve all got the fevers, but I’m recovering.”
“Are you sure? It’s not an order and you can say no. As you know, I don’t order suicide missions.”
“We’ll be back, I promise. Plus, I’m bored.”
“Jolly good, Major. Jolly good.”
They left at dark, with DuBose and D Troop half an hour behind. They hiked for ten hours and stopped at dawn above a village. They rested throughout the day and noticed several Japanese patrols moving through the area. At dark, they moved on. The mountains turned to hills and vegetation thinned. At dawn of the third day, they topped a rise and Fort Stotsenburg was before them, about a mile away in the center of a sweeping plain.
From his position, Pete took in the vastness of his old fort. Before the war, it had housed not only the Twenty-Sixth Cavalry Regiment but also four artillery regiments, two American and two Filipino, along with the Twelfth Quartermaster Regiment. The rows of barracks housed eight thousand soldiers. The stately gateposts at the front entrance were visible. Between two long runways were dozens of buildings once used by good guys and now bustling with the enemy. Behind them were the wide parade grounds where Pete had played polo, but the moment did not allow nostalgia. Parked in neat rows along the runways were more Zeros than he could count, along with twenty or so two-seated fighters the Allies called Nicks. There was no wall around the fort, no fencing or barbed-wire barriers. Just thousands of Japs going about their business. Troops drilled on the parade grounds while Zeros took off and landed.
The runners led them to an advance post where they met a squad led by Captain Miller, a baby-faced enlisted man from Minnesota. His squad had ten men, all Filipinos, and they knew the area well. Miller was waiting on another squad that was supposed to have arrived the day before. At the post, the men huddled over maps, and waited. At midnight, when the fort was quiet, Pete, DuBose, and Miller crept closer to it and spent the rest of the night circling the area. They returned at dawn, exhausted but with a plan.
The shipment of Lewes bombs did not arrive as scheduled, and they waited two days for word from Manila. They also waited on the other guerrillas Granger had promised, but they did not materialize. Pete worried that they had been captured and the entire mission had been compromised. In all, he had fifty-five men available for some mischief. By the third day at the post food was running low and the men were becoming irritable. Major Banning scolded them and maintained discipline.
The Lewes bombs finally arrived on the backs of three mules led by teenage boys, skinny kids who would hardly raise suspicions. Again, Pete marveled at Granger’s network.
The fort was outside Angeles City, a sprawling town of 100,000, with plenty of bars and brothels to keep the Japanese officers entertained. The raid began at one in the morning with a carjacking when two drunken captains staggered out of a nightclub and headed to their sedan for the ride back to the fort. Three Filipino guerrillas posing as local peasants slit their throats in an alley, stripped off their uniforms, and changed clothes. They fired three shots as a signal, then ten minutes later drove the car past the sentries at the front gate of Fort Stotsenburg. Once inside, they parked the car in front of the commander’s residence and disappeared into the darkness. Three Lewes bombs were stuck to the car’s undercarriage, and the explosion disrupted the peaceful night. Guerrillas hiding behind the gymnasium began firing into the air, and the guards panicked.
The airplanes were watched closely at night by sentries. At the sound of the explosion and wild gunfire, they broke ranks and began running in the direction of the commotion. Major Banning swept in from the north, DuBose from the east, Miller from the west. They gunned down every sentry in sight, then quickly began sticking the Lewes bombs to the underside of eighty of the hated Zeros. In the darkness, the precious little bombs were not visible.
As they backed away, Don Bowmore, a brawler from Philly, caught a bullet in the head. He was near Pete, who quickly dropped the sentry and grabbed his pal. Camacho helped him drag Bowmore a hundred yards to cover, but he had died instantly. When it was apparent he was dead, and couldn’t talk, Pete decided to leave his body. The code of the jungle did not allow the dead to be retrieved. Guerrillas relied too much on speed. Pete took Bowmore’s rifle and handed it to Camacho. From his holster he grabbed his Colt .45, one he would use for the rest of the war and carry with him back to Mississippi.
Within minutes, the guerrillas retreated into the darkness as lights and sirens came on and hundreds of spooked Japanese soldiers scurried about in a frenzy. Most gathered in the vicinity of the burning car and waited for orders. The dazed officers barked conflicting commands and
pointed here and there. The shooting had stopped. The sentries finally convinced the officers that the planes were targeted, with something. Patrols were organized to search the planes, but the fireworks began.
Five minutes after setting the Lewes bombs, Pete ordered his men to halt. They turned and watched. The explosions were not loud, but quite colorful, and remarkably efficient. In quick succession, the Zeros began popping as the little bombs erupted and ignited the fuel tanks. Each Zero was consumed in its own fireball, and they burned in the neat rows where they sat. In the glorious glow of the fires, the soldiers could be seen backing away, stunned.
Pete savored their handiwork for only a moment, then ordered his men to withdraw, and rapidly. The Japanese would immediately send out search squads, and there was no time to waste gawking. They would not be safe until they were in the bush.
Casualties were astonishingly light, but crucial. Three guerrillas had slight wounds that did not impede their getaway. In addition to Bowmore, a Filipino had been killed by a sentry, and two had been shot, could not escape, and were captured. They were quickly rounded up and taken to the jail, where the torture began.
At the advance post, a head count revealed fifty-one survivors. They were giddy with their success and still pumped with adrenaline, but when Pete learned of the two wounded left behind he knew it meant trouble. They would be tortured without mercy. It was never safe to assume a man wouldn’t talk under duress. Some were able to withstand incredible pain and never break. Others suffered for as long as they could, then gave up information. Sometimes the information was false, sometimes accurate.
Regardless, the men were dead.
Pete ordered his men to pack as lightly as possible and hit the trail. He said good-bye to Miller and his men, and led D and G Troops into the darkness.
* * *
—
The first Filipino prisoner was bleeding heavily from a chest wound. The Japanese assessed it and assumed he was dying. They tied him to a table, cut off his clothing, and attached wires to his genitals. When the first current hit, he screamed and begged. Next door, the second Filipino, also strapped to a table, heard his comrade beg for mercy.
The first one gave no information. When he was unconscious, he was taken outside and decapitated with a sword. His head was retrieved and taken inside, where an officer placed it on the chest of the second one. The officer explained the obvious—don’t talk and you’ll soon take your secrets to your grave. Wires were tightened around his testicles and penis, and after half an hour he began talking. The severed head was removed from his chest and placed in a corner. The wires were removed from his genitals and the prisoner was allowed to sit and drink water. A doctor looked at his shattered fibula and left without treating it. The prisoner gave the name of General Bernard Granger and a bogus location of his base in the mountains. He gave the names of all of the American officers he knew, and revealed that Major Pete Banning had led the raid. He had no idea who made the small bombs but they came from someone in Manila. To his knowledge, no further raids were being planned.
The doctor was back. He cleaned the wound, wrapped it in a bandage, and gave the prisoner some pills for pain. They helped little. The interrogation lasted through the night. When the prisoner could not answer all the questions, he simply created fiction. The more he talked the friendlier the Japanese became. At dawn, he was given hot coffee and a bread roll and informed that he would be given special treatment because of his cooperation. When he finished eating, he was dragged to a corner of the parade ground where his buddy’s nude and headless body hung by the feet from a gallows. Not far away, the burned skeletons of seventy-four Zeros continued to smolder.
The prisoner was strung up by his hands and lashed with a bullwhip as a crowd of soldiers laughed and enjoyed the mauling. When he was unconscious, he was left to bake in the sun as the cleanup began.
Chapter 34
When news of the Stotsenburg raid reached Australia, General MacArthur was ecstatic. He immediately cabled President Roosevelt and, characteristically, took full credit for an operation he knew nothing about until a week after it was over. He wrote that “my commandos” executed “my detailed plan” with incredible brazenness and bravery and suffered only minor losses. His guerrilla forces were striking the Japanese in similar raids throughout Luzon, and he was orchestrating all manner of havoc behind enemy lines.
The raid embarrassed and infuriated the Japanese, and by the time the men of D and G Troops staggered home, exhausted and starving, four days after the attack, the skies were buzzing with fresh Zeros. The Japanese had an endless supply, and they intensified their efforts to find Granger. They did not, but their constant strafing at anything that moved in the mountains caused the guerrillas to thicken their camouflage and hunker down even deeper into the jungle. It also hampered their movements.
The Japanese stepped up their patrols around the barrios at the lower elevations and brutalized the locals. Food became scarcer and resentment toward the Americans increased. Never one to sit idly by, Granger began sending squads to ambush Japanese patrols. The highways and convoys were heavily protected and too dangerous to hit. Instead, his men stalked the trails and lay in wait. The attacks were quick and led to fierce gunfights that annihilated the patrols. The Japanese foot soldiers were no match for the well-hidden guerrillas, all of whom were excellent snipers. As the weeks passed and their casualties mounted, the Japanese lost interest in finding Granger and retreated to the valleys where they guarded the highways. Not once did the guerrillas and their intelligence gather information that indicated plans for a full-scale assault on their home base.
Granger and his growing forces were safe in the mountains, but the war was happening elsewhere. By the spring of 1943, Japan was in firm control of the South Pacific and threatening Australia.
* * *
—
The bridge crossed the Zapote River at the bottom of a steep and forbidding valley. From it, cliffs on both sides rose at such steep angles that crossing them on foot was impossible. The river was narrow but deep and fast, and the Japanese engineers had been unable to build suitable pontoons to ford it. So they built a bridge out of narra trees, which were plentiful and sturdy. Its construction was treacherous, with dozens of Filipino slaves lost in the process.
When Granger received orders to destroy it, he sent Majors Banning and DuBose with a squad of ten to have a look. They hiked two days through difficult terrain and finally found a safe ridge to observe from. The bridge was in the distance, deep in the valley, at least a mile away. Using binoculars, they watched it for hours, and the convoys never stopped. Occasionally, a single truck or troop carrier went across, and a few sedans with high-ranking officers were spotted. The bridge’s importance was evident by the packs of soldiers guarding it. There was a post on each side with dozens of guards milling about, and on top of each hut were mounted machine guns. Below, at the edges of the river, even more Japanese camped around the abutments and killed time. The current was too swift and violent for boats.
After dark, the convoys became scarce. By 8:00 p.m., the bridge was much quieter. The Japanese had learned that their enemy worked best at night, and for this reason kept their supplies off the roads. An occasional truck, presumably empty, crossed going west to reload.
Banning and DuBose agreed that it would be impossible to destroy the bridge with explosives. An assault with men and guns would be suicide. Other than a few grenade launchers, the guerrillas had nothing in the way of artillery.
They returned to camp and briefed Granger, who was not surprised. His runners had reported as much. After resting a day, the commanders met with their general under his canopy, and over tea debated their options, of which there were precious few. A plan emerged and became the only idea with even a remote chance of success.
Most of the convoys were loaded with armaments, food, fuel, and other supplies from several ports along
the western shore of Luzon, and from there they fanned out through the mountains over a grid of highways and bridges the Japanese worked hard to maintain. The first stop for most trucks was a sprawling munitions fort outside the city of Camiling. There, in endless warehouses, the enemy stored enough supplies to win the war. Once inventoried and safe, the supplies were later shipped throughout Luzon. Camiling was at the top of every guerrilla wish list, and the Japanese knew it. Even Granger had decided it was unassailable.
Truck traffic in and around Camiling was chaotic. The roads were inadequate, so the Japanese hastily built more. Riffraff always follows the army, and around the city the highways were lined with new truck stops, cafés, bars, flophouses, brothels, and opium dens.
What Major Banning needed was an empty cargo truck with a canvas cover, and there were plenty of them parked almost bumper to bumper outside the busy bars and cafés on the main highway into Camiling. Camacho and Renaldo wore the matching uniforms of officers of the imperial army. Their disguises were detailed down to the round wire-rimmed eyeglasses worn by virtually every Jap and hated by every American. The cargo truck they were watching was empty; thus, headed west to reload. Its fuel tank was full.
After a few beers, the drivers, both privates, left the bar and headed to their truck. They bumped into Camacho and Renaldo, who suddenly began throwing punches. Fights were common outside the bars—hell, they were army boys—and bystanders hardly noticed. The fight ended abruptly when Camacho slit both throats and tossed the bodies into the back of the truck, where Pete was hiding. With no pity whatsoever, he watched them bleed out as Camacho drove away. On the outskirts of a barrio, they bivouacked with G and M Troops and took on a hundred pounds of TNT and twenty gallons of gasoline. The guerrillas packed into the truck, after flinging the two dead soldiers into a ravine. An hour later, as they began the steep descent into the valley, the truck stopped and the guerrillas got off. A runner led them along a treacherous trail that fell to the Zapote.