At about 4:00 A.M., with the silhouette of land in sight, Crowley told the rest of the men to make their way as best they could. Unfortunately, as visibility improved, the sea became choppier. The men scattered. Gerald Francesco Madeo, the Flier’s helmsman, was already falling behind the main group and would be among those lost.
After fourteen hours in the water, near noon, Crowley spotted a floating palm tree and struck out for it. To his surprise, he found Liddell hanging on to the trunk. The two then spotted a larger floating palm tree, which Liddell initially mistook for a native boat. They swam for it and found three more of the Flier’s crew clinging to the waterlogged tree: Jacobson, Baumgart, and Howell. Baumgart, who had been reduced in rank for misbehavior while on leave in Fremantle, claimed that his determination to return and fight the charges against him provided some of his motivation for survival.17
The men broke off some palm fronds to use as paddles, and together they slowly pushed their makeshift raft toward shore. They were still about two miles from land, but the current helped carry them toward a reef off the southeast end of Mantangule Island.18 As they approached the island, some of the men began to imagine that they saw houses and other signs of civilization. At about 4:00 in the afternoon the water became shallow enough for them to wade the last half mile to shore.
By the time they reached the beach, Crowley and his companions from the floating palm tree had been in the water for eighteen hours. The island was an estimated twelve miles from the site of the Flier’s wreck. For some perspective on their accomplishment, note that in the world of competitive long-distance swimming, any swim in open water lasting more than five hours is considered a marathon. The men of the Flier had survived more than three times longer, without the aid of bathing caps or suits, goggles, earplugs, sunscreen, or support crews. Even more critically, they lacked any drink or food to stave off dehydration and exhaustion. Without nourishment to replace spent energy, and without drinking water, their muscles weakened, and toxins built up in the bloodstream.19 In addition, all five men, stripped down to their underwear, were suffering from severe sunburn, and their feet were cut and bleeding from crossing the coral reef.
To their surprise, they found James Dello Russo, now quartermaster third class, already on the island waiting for them. Miraculously, he had swum the entire distance without the aid of a palm tree or anything else. The group decided to spend the night on the narrow sand beach that stretched for about seventy-five yards at the water's edge. Several men set about building a lean-to, and Liddell hiked off to the eastern end of the island to look for water and food. He found neither, but he did encounter Donald Paul Tremaine, fire controlman second class, and guided him back to the others. Earlier, the group clinging to the palm tree had spotted Tremaine in the distance and had waved and yelled at him. Although Tremaine had waved back, he then appeared to ignore them. Tremaine later explained that he thought they were local fishermen, and if they were not friendly enough to pick him up, he thought it best to avoid them.20 This wariness of strangers in a strange land would persist in the coming days.
12
Castaways
The survivors of the Flier found themselves in a situation similar to that of other shipwrecked sailors for centuries: they were isolated, hungry, and exposed to the elements. In one sense they were more fortunate than most, because among the survivors were several officers, including Commander John Crowley. Studies of sailors left adrift in lifeboats and rafts after the loss of a ship indicate that the presence of commissioned officers significantly increases the survival rate. With a respected leader, men are more confident and less likely to fall into a sense of hopelessness.1 However, the Flier men also faced a distinct disadvantage: they were deep in enemy territory.
With no food or water to be found, the survivors spent their first night on the beach. All the men had severe sunburns that added to their immediate discomfort. Once the sun went down, the temperature plunged, and they faced a long, cold night dressed only in their underwear. They burrowed themselves into the sand and hugged one another to keep warm. Alvin Jacobson spent most of the night wishing the sun would come up so that he could stop shaking.2
The following morning they set about exploring the island, which they found to be about four miles long and mostly covered in thick shrubs. From the beach they could see the area where the Flier had gone down. There was no sign of life apart from an airplane spotted at about 3:00 in the afternoon. Later, however, they witnessed a strange phenomenon. According to Crowley's report, at 6:00 P.M. “a large geyser of water was seen on the general bearing of FLIER followed by the sound of a distant explosion, the source and reason for the explosion is unknown.”3 Had the submarine wreck drifted into another mine? Or did the explosion emanate from inside the Flier? In 1989 survivors from the Soviet submarine Komsomolets (K-278) would report a powerful explosion from the depths, believed to be from the detonation of its torpedoes.4
Only an hour earlier, Wesley Bruce Miller, motor machinist's mate third class, had arrived at the survivors’ makeshift camp. Miller had landed on the western end of the island near sunset the previous day and had spent the night there. He had seen no food or water on his journey, confirming that the island could not sustain the men. The lack of water was the most immediate threat to their survival, and the tropical conditions accentuated dehydration. The pain from sunburn, sore feet, and hunger would eventually pale compared to the intensity of their thirst. Although there were cases of men lasting more than a week without fresh water, a wartime study indicates that the critical threshold for most survivors was four ounces of water per day.5
On a reconnaissance of the island's east coast, Crowley and Liddell found hundreds of coconuts washed up, only one of which was unspoiled. They divided the coconut among all the men, with each receiving about two tablespoons of milk and a small piece of coconut flesh barely more than an inch square. Even so, they found it impossible to keep this meager fare down.
From the eastern end of the island they could see a string of other islands: Byan, Gabung, and Bugsuk stretched toward the much larger island of Palawan. The group decided to build a raft and sail for Palawan, stopping off at the smaller islands en route. The long, narrow island of Palawan, some 270 miles long by 20 miles wide, defines the western extremity of the Philippines. It divides the South China Sea from the Sulu Sea like a breakwater. Balabac Strait lies directly to the south. Most of Palawan's population lived in the northeastern part of the island. With a mountain chain running for much of the island's length, communications were primitive, and travel was largely along crude tracks.6
The Balabac Strait
Before the war, the U.S. Navy had considered establishing a base at Malampaya Sound on Palawan's east coast. The idea had been rejected for a number of reasons, including the site's exposure to naval bombardment and a narrow harbor entrance that could easily be blocked.7 Unknown to the Flier’s crew, a party of coast watchers had only recently been deposited on Palawan from the submarine Seawolf. Departing from Darwin on 1 August 1944, the Seawolf carried six men under Master Sergeant Eutiquio B. Cabais, along with five tons of supplies. The party would not only provide intelligence but eventually aid in the evacuation of thirteen downed Allied airmen.8 The coast watcher group, however, was situated in the northern part of the island, far from the Flier survivors’ destination.
In the early afternoon of Wednesday, 16 August, the men scoured the beach and began gathering pieces of bamboo, about four inches in diameter, for the construction of a raft. Liddell and James Russo managed to wrench some vines from the jungle, and these were used to lash the bamboo together. The completed raft was approximately seven feet by four feet—anything larger would be too easily spotted by the Japanese. Arthur Howell put together two makeshift paddles, and the men also found a couple of long poles to help propel the raft.
As the work on the raft progressed, the men became weaker and less focused. They had gone two days without water. They placed about twenty se
ashells on the beach to collect rainwater, but although they could see squalls at sea, they barely collected a drop. At one point Howell licked the moisture off some leaves but then became violently ill.
By the following morning the raft was complete. The men decided to wait until low tide, anticipated at midafternoon, to shove off. In the meantime, Jacobson and Donald Tremaine managed to find two unopened coconuts and divided the contents among the survivors.
At about 3:00 in the afternoon they set off for Byan Island. Howell and Russo, considered to be the strongest, were designated to ride on the raft and paddle. The rest of the survivors floated in the water and clung to the raft, using their legs for propulsion. About halfway to Byan Island they spotted a Japanese plane and tried to remain as still as possible as the plane flew over. At one point there was a brief rain shower, and the men desperately tried to catch some of the raindrops in their gaping mouths. As they approached the island the current became stronger, and they seemed to be making little progress. Finally they reached the northwestern end of the island just after sunset. The men collapsed on the beach, too exhausted to even talk to one another. Again that night they buried themselves in sand against the cold, but their violent shivering caused the sand to cascade off them. Jacobson and Liddell tried to bury themselves together, but the sand only came off twice as fast. There was nothing to do but hope and pray and wait for the warmth of daylight.9
At dawn the next day they set off around Byan Island, reaching the far side at about 1:30 in the afternoon. At low tide they began making their way across the mile-and-a-half-wide channel to the island of Gabung. The water was shallow enough to wade part of the way, which made the journey easier. While making the crossing, however, they spotted a chilling sight—the dorsal fins of sharks cutting the water.
The terrifying prospect of shark attack loomed large in the minds of shipwrecked sailors and downed aviators during the war. Men left adrift in small boats or life rafts often told stories of sharks harassing their craft, sometimes poking their snouts over the gunwales. After the destroyer escort England sank a Japanese submarine off Bougainville in May 1944, the crew lowered a boat to investigate the debris. They found none of the submarine's crew but had to fight off large sharks in order to pull wreckage from the water.10
Fortunately, the Flier’s men were unmolested, and they beached at Gabung's southwest point at sunset. It was their fourth night on the islands and their fifth day without any substantial nourishment. Crowley recalled it as the “worst day yet.”11 Their arms and backs were blistered by the sun, and their feet were lacerated from walking on the coral reefs. To add to their misery, they were now beset by swarms of biting insects. Crowley began to doubt whether they could make the next three-mile crossing to Bugsuk Island.
The next day they moved along Gabung's south coast, pushing the raft ahead of them. At one point they came across a dugout canoe, but it was full of holes and useless. The search for food yielded only one edible coconut, which was again divided eight ways. From a vantage point on southeastern Gabung Island, they could see a group of buildings on adjacent Bugsuk Island. Their hopes began to soar, and they started for the island at 2:00 P.M. Because the water was shallow they were able to pole much of the way, and the crossing to Bugsuk was accomplished more quickly than expected. The wading, however, meant more damage to their feet. They landed at about 5:30 and took care to keep out of view of any possible occupants.
Once on Bugsuk, they approached the buildings cautiously. On closer inspection, it appeared that the buildings had been deserted for some time. They contained no furniture or tools, and the floors were strewn with papers. Earl Baumgart discovered a water cistern behind a house, and for the first time in almost a week, they were able to quench their thirst. There was also a grove of coconut trees, and after some effort, they managed to knock down several coconuts to eat. After this modest feast they looked for a place to sleep in one of the buildings.
Further investigation of the premises led to the conclusion that the site had once belonged to a wealthy plantation owner. There were discarded receipts for the sale of cattle and lumber, and clearings around the house had apparently been vegetable gardens at one time. The men also found a stream stocked with fish. With their dietary prospects suddenly improved, they retired in good spirits. Jacobson found a bamboo door that he used as a mattress, and for the first time since leaving the Flier, he slept relatively well.12
13
Guerrillas
At daybreak the next morning, 19 August, Alvin Jacobson was the only one up when a young Filipino man approached him, using sign language to indicate that he was friendly. Another Filipino then emerged from the jungle, and John Crowley appeared and asked them whether they were American or Japanese. One of the young men smiled and replied “Americanos.” He then said “Japanese” and made a cutting motion across his throat.
When the rest of the survivors had gathered, the Filipinos explained, using their best English, that they were from a guerrilla group known as the Bugsuk Bolo Battalion. They had watched the men arrive on the island but had initially assumed they were Japanese. In fact, they had expected to find them dead, since the water cistern had been poisoned. Before leaving, the property owner had apparently laced the cistern with arsenic in order to kill any Japanese who drank from it. Although Arthur Howell had been sick during the night, his crewmates assumed that he had simply drunk too much water. The others experienced no ill effects.
The Filipinos offered to lead the Americans to their camp and supply them with food and water. As the group headed inland, they came to a sugarcane grove. The Filipinos motioned for them to sit down and then brought each man a piece of sugarcane about three feet long. Both Jacobson and Crowley would later state that this sugarcane was the best thing they had ever tasted. Typical of shipwreck survivors, they had a strong craving for sweets.1 After about half an hour of gnawing on the sugarcane, however, they were too tired to chew anymore.
The men continued walking for about a mile, at which point they came to a building that looked like an abandoned schoolhouse. About twenty Filipinos were gathered there; four of them were armed with guns, and the rest carried spears, blowguns, and bolos (large machete-like knives). They were introduced to the Bolo Battalion leader, Pedro Sarmiento. More importantly, they were given a hot meal of rice and dried fish—their first real sustenance since escaping from the Flier.
Sarmiento was a former schoolteacher and plantation overseer who spoke excellent English. His group had come from Palawan in search of submarine survivors, but not survivors of the Flier. That was when Crowley and his crew learned that the USS Robalo had been lost the previous month. It appeared that some survivors from the Robalo had made it to Comiran Island, where they had been taken prisoner by the Japanese.2
Following the surrender of U.S. forces in the Philippines on 6 May 1942, various guerrilla groups began to form in the islands. These groups included both men with military backgrounds and civilians. Once news of the guerrilla movement reached General Douglas MacArthur in Australia, he sent a reconnaissance party to the Philippines under Captain Jesus A. Villamor. The thirty-nine-year-old Villamor was already a hero to the Filipinos, based on his performance as an ace pilot in the U.S. Air Corps defending Corregidor. Despite flying an outdated P-36 aircraft nicknamed the “Peashooter,” Villamor had made a strong showing against the superior Japanese Zeros, and MacArthur had decorated him in the first award ceremony of the war. On 17 December 1941 Villamor had been evacuated from the Philippines on the submarine USS Gudgeon.
On 21 January 1943 the Gudgeon returned Villamor and a reconnaissance party to the Philippines, at southern Negros. The party made contact with guerrilla groups on the islands of Mindanao and Panay and helped develop an intelligence network. Villamor wielded enormous power, since he had the authority to determine which guerrilla groups would be recognized and thus receive American support. Under this scheme, the Philippine Islands were divided into ten military districts, with eac
h district under a unified command. Eventually the guerrillas would constitute a “ghost army” in excess of 180,000 men, with more than 150 radio and weather stations.3
These activities were conducted under the auspices of the Allied Intelligence Bureau (AIB), founded in July 1942. A truly multinational organization, the AIB was nominally under an Australian controller, Colonel C. G. Roberts. As the director of intelligence for the Australian army, Roberts's selection to head the AIB was partly based on “diplomacy.” Roberts reported to Charles A. Willoughby, who served as General MacArthur's chief intelligence officer.4
The connections between the U.S. submarine service and the guerrilla movement in the Philippines were close and multifaceted. At least initially, the navy was reluctant to supply submarines for AIB operations. Given the success of the submarine service in decimating Japanese shipping, any diversion from that purpose tended to be resented. According to Allison Ind, deputy controller of the AIB, the navy's attitude underwent a sudden change when it realized that AIB operatives in the Philippines could help confirm the sinking of Japanese ships. Since submarines typically headed for the depths after firing their torpedoes at enemy targets, it was often difficult to substantiate claimed “kills.” A coast watcher or guerrilla with a radio, however, could verify any Japanese losses observed.5
The USS Flier Page 9