by Hugh Ambrose
ON FEBRUARY 1, SHOFNER HAD "THE HAPPIEST DAY OF PRISON LIFE." HE RECEIVED a few letters from home. To hear that his family were all well in a letter postmarked in June of 1942 was to know joy. It moved him more than the Red Cross packages the guards had distributed a week earlier, although these boxes had contained treats like chocolate, cigarettes and cookies; necessities like canned meats, sardines, and even toilet articles. Along with all the goodies there was some clothing and a small supply of quinine and sulfa drugs. Each prisoner received two boxes, although the guards had stolen from some of the boxes. Copies of the Manila newspaper were provided to each barracks. In addition, the guards gave each man fifteen cans of canned meat and vegetables. The prison officials also made sure the prisoners had blankets, mosquito nets, canteens, and mess kits.
On top of this shocking largesse, the camp commander allowed his prisoners to send a postcard home. The chance to tell their families that they were still alive, even if it was a tiny postcard on which they filled in a few blanks, brought hope. The supply of quinine came in handy almost immediately, as Shifty had his first bout with malaria. He took the pills and hoped he had averted a trip to the hospital. Going into the hospital meant a loss of privileges. It meant the loss of his spot on a work detail. It meant he might lose his chance to escape.
Even though the lives of the POWs had improved greatly in Davao from Cabanatuan, almost half of them lacked the strength for a work detail in March of 1943. Not working made recovering from dengue fever, beriberi, tropical ulcers, dysentery, and the like more difficult. The cans of food and supplies of medicines were consumed quickly. Those who could work could steal, although the guards had become more watchful. Punishment for stealing food from the emperor of Japan was meted out with fist, boot, and club immediately. Still, it had to be done.
Using the quinine worried Shifty, though. His team of would-be escapees were not indulging themselves in all of the great canned food like the other POWs. Canned food had to be saved for the escape, just like the medicine. The camp commander made the saving of food more difficult when he cut the supply of fresh vegetables. All of the prisoners needed to work in the fields in order to make up the loss. In Shifty's case, the medicine worked. It knocked down the malaria. He remained on the detail.
Shifty went looking for a navigator. Quietly, with his poker face in place, he observed and assessed the naval officers. As with most of the marine officers, disease and malnutrition had rendered most of the navy men unfit for a difficult journey. He approached Lieutenant Commander Melvyn McCoy. At an appropriate point in their conversation, Shifty asked him if he could navigate a ship from Mindanao to Australia. McCoy knew where this discussion would go. He liked how it had begun. McCoy had met Shifty in Bilibid, played poker against him in Cabanatuan, and had watched him give money to other POWs so they could buy food.3 He knew Captain Austin Shofner had the strength and the courage to succeed. So McCoy replied that he had been a top mathematician at the United States Naval Academy. He could devise a formula for navigating the great ocean.
When at last Shifty broached the subject of escape directly, Commander McCoy let Shofner know he had already begun planning to break out with three others. He could not abandon them. This wrinkle halted the conversation. The commander and the captain returned to their respective groups. Each group had to consider if the total number of both groups--ten--would be too many. On the other hand, could the two groups afford to remain separate when they knew that whichever group went first would spoil the chances of the second? Last, they had to evaluate the men in the other group for toughness and health, if not for skill. Enough men had faltered during the many months since the surrender that having a discussion among so large a group brought great unease. The considerations created a slow dance. At length, though, they decided to go together.r
Rather than dwell too much on their chances in a small boat somewhere in the Pacific, the men focused on the specifics. Commander McCoy assumed command, as the highest-ranking officer, a command tolerated by Shifty in part because McCoy respected all of the work and planning Shofner had already performed. Circumstances also prevented McCoy from dictating each policy. Shifty involved himself in every step of the process. Lists of equipment and tools were drawn up, amounts and types of food were specified in a penal colony where most men did not have enough to eat and many did not have "any footgear of any kind."4 Along with an axe, a rope, and a tent or section of tarp to provide some protection from the strong rains, McCoy insisted he have a sextant for navigation. In case the escape succeeded but the effort to depart the island did not, they gathered the seeds of fruits and vegetables.
Shofner, Hawkins, and Dobervich were plowing the casaba field with Brahma steers in late February. They and a few others from the team used the bulls to pull their carts and plow the field. Using the draft animals required the teams to go to them on Sunday, when everyone else had the day off, and bring them to a new pasture. This got the plowers out of the gated compound. McCoy and his men worked on the coffee- bean-picking details, which also worked on Sundays as per the camp commandant's orders. With little supervision, which they handily evaded, the team hid tin cans full of their supplies in various places, including Shifty's favorite: under large anthills.
Beyond the fields in which they labored, a wall of jungle stood over a swamp. The only clear path out of the fields led down the road to the city of Davao. The IJA considered the miles of dense jungle and deep swamp to form an impenetrable barrier on three sides. The team agreed, reluctantly. Recruiting a guide would force them to extend the circle of trust beyond Americans. It had to be done. Shofner, aided by Hawkins, who spoke Spanish, oversaw the selection. He started by finding out as much as he could about the Filipinos who had been incarcerated there for civil crimes. In time, he came to know two men who had the knowledge to lead the way, but who had both been convicted of murder. They were Benigno de la Cruz and Victoriano Jumarong. Ben told them he had been convicted of murder, but he had done it in a fit of emotion. He had killed the man who was trying to steal the woman he loved. He said he regretted it. Victor proclaimed his innocence. Playing his cards close to his vest, Shifty took his time in verifying their knowledge of the area before bringing them up to speed.
NOT EVERYONE FROM HOW COMPANY OF THE 2ND BATTALION OF THE FIRST Marines made roll call on the first morning at the Melbourne Cricket Grounds. The first sergeant looked out to see maybe thirty guys in formation, somewhat less than the two hundred or so he had on his muster roll. For every name he called, though, he heard an answer. He decided to call out a few names of men who had been buried on Guadalcanal and, lo and behold, they answered aye as well. On this lovely morning First Sergeant McGrath did not care. He was drunk, too.
On the second day in Australia Sid and the other privates first class received PS15, or about $48. It was a modest amount considering the United States Marine Corps owed him close to $400 after six months on the Canal, when no one had been paid. New uniforms were also issued, but because of a shortage of marine uniforms, he received an army jacket. The seabags that they had left in Wellington were supposed to be on their way, and Lieutenant Benson had his company fill out official government forms listing all of the items they had lost on USS George F. Elliott. Uncle Sam was going to repay them for the loss of their personal possessions.
At every opportunity, the marines headed up the street. They arrived in Melbourne with a great thirst: for milk, for steak, for beer and whiskey, for women, for ice cream, for everything they had missed. It would take some time, given the difficulty of understanding the accents of the merchants, for Sid to understand the new monetary system: pence, shillings, pounds, and a mysterious unit known as two bob. A pint of beer cost sixpence, though; a steak covered in fried eggs cost about two shillings; and a trip on a train anywhere in town was sixpence. Sid concluded that the fifteen pounds in his pocket, with no rent to pay or requirement to purchase food, made him a millionaire.
The warmth of the welcome the 1st Mari
ne Division received from the people of Australia overwhelmed them. Australia had been bombed by Japanese planes, her ships had been attacked inside her harbors by Japanese submarines, and tens of thousands of her men were in Japanese POW camps. The rush of imperial conquest down the Pacific Rim seemed to be aimed right at them. Australia was fighting for its survival and for that of the British Empire, of which she was a part. The newspaper let the people know that the marines had just won an important victory. As he walked through the streets, Sid had adults walk up to him and say, "Good on you, Yank, you saved Australia." An invitation to their homes for dinner or to spend the weekend often followed. Sid attempted to explain that he was not a "Yank."
THE TRUCKS TOOK THEM TO THE STATION, WHERE THE 1/7 CAUGHT THE TRAIN to Melbourne. Manila John and his friends did not buy tickets for the train. Any money spent on something other than wine, women, and song was considered a waste, "and the song," Richard Greer added, "was a complete waste."5 Basilone found a bar he liked called the Barbados. The owner, of Italian descent, gave him a little leeway. "John would make what he called the blockbuster. He'd go in the bar, and he'd put an ounce of bourbon, an ounce of scotch, an ounce of rum, and an ounce of everything he can find and make an 8 ounce glass."6 It had the desired effect. "You start sipping it in the morning and you couldn't find your ass with both hands by dinner." Not all of the marines seen stumbling down the sidewalk were drunk, though. Malaria continued to catch up with men who had thought they had escaped its clutches. Marines filled Melbourne's new hospital.
The young women of Melbourne bewildered the marines. The girls approached the guys on the street and asked them for a date. It left the heroes of Guadalcanal with their mouths hanging open. That kind of thing didn't happen back home; but then, the dates often involved going home to her house and having dinner with her family. It involved going out with a group of new friends to see films, strolling the arcade, and the like. For more than a few, the adventures grew amorous once a few logistical problems were overcome. Women were not allowed into bars and even going into a lounge was considered risque. The bars closed at six p.m. The deadline created the "6 o'clock Swill," with men gulping the last drops from their glasses before being shown the door. The Americans learned quickly, though, that some hotel pubs and restaurants were able to serve alcohol later than bars; it was also easier to get their dates to join them in these establishments. Where to go after the dinner and drinks posed another problem. Taking long walks in one of the city's parks was popular.
Order and discipline returned to the division. Inspections and reviews were held most mornings. Each man received a shoulder patch for his makeshift uniform. The white stars of the Southern Cross adorned a field of blue. The word "Guadalcanal" ran down the large red "1" in the center. The battle, for which the division earned the Presidential Unit Citation, had become its identity. The old salts rotated stateside to train new divisions. Others received a week's liberty and skipped town. Most, however, had to content themselves with their afternoons and evenings off. It was enough time for Manila John to blow through $100 in his first month.
On February 22, the Seventh Marines went into the city as a regiment. It formed up with the First Marines, the Fifth, and the division's artillery regiment, the Eleventh. When the breeze caught Old Glory and unfurled it, Sid's eyes moistened, and he laughed heartily when his friend observed "in a loud voice how that wind burns your eyes." At twelve noon, the 1st Marine Division marched through throngs of thousands of people for six miles. The USMC bands played "Semper Fidelis" and " The Star-Spangled Banner" and the "Marines' Hymn." Australian bands also marched. The delightful melody of one of their songs, "Waltzing Matilda," got the Americans' attention. It made a great addition to the parade. "Part of that long green machine going through the streets of Melbourne," Sid felt a great sense of power well up inside of him. The sight of "every man in step, heads up, shoulders back, many thousands of miles from home" prompted Sid's friend to mumble, "Uncle Sam's Marines are showing off."
During the afternoon it became clear that the other regiments envied the First's prime location. The rivalry and insults surprised no one. The Australian troops, though, had begun to cause real problems. Marines attributed their anger to jealousy--the marines had better uniforms, lots of money, lots of free time, and had been called the saviors of Australia by Australians. The 1st Division had arrived in a city where so many young men had been called to duty, if not in the armed services, then in some other capacity of war mobilization. The circumstances had conspired to put Sid and Manila John and their friends in the catbird seat. They set about making the most of it--but also to start watching their backs when alone.
IN LATE FEBRUARY, BOMBING SIX RECEIVED ORDERS TO REPORT TO THE INSPECTOR of naval aircraft at the Curtiss-Wright Aircraft Corporation in Columbus, Ohio. The squadron would pick up new aircraft and ferry them back to their base in California. Bombing Six knew from their skipper that the new planes were the Curtiss-Wright SB2C dive-bomber, known as the Helldiver. Some pilots over in San Diego had already received some and Mike had heard that those guys "were pulling the tails off of them in dives." It did not sound like his kind of airplane. A few days later, they all climbed into the back of a transport plane for the two-day trip to Columbus.
On the first of March, Bombing Six reported in to the inspector of naval aircraft, who sent them along to the commander of the U.S. Naval Aircraft Delivery Unit. They had a few days to receive instruction on the new planes from representatives of the factory, who also assured them that the kinks had been worked out of the design.
The engineers had created the SB2C to outperform the Dauntless. Its bigger engine and four-bladed propeller produced a top speed of 286 mph. For improved speed and maneuverability, the "2C" carried its thousand-pound bomb inside a bomb bay. Its 20mm cannons provided greater protection, and a larger fuel tank added range. Mike finally got away from the company representatives and into the cockpit on March 5. He flew for about an hour in the new plane that his squadron would fly. He realized, "I was partial to the SBD [Dauntless], I didn't like that 2C. There wasn't anything wrong with it, I guess, but it just didn't fly like an airplane, it flew like a brick." Over the next few days, the squadron took more familiarization flights; then Mike flew Helldiver number 00080 right out of the factory.
Flying cross-country was harder than anyone had thought. They had to find their way, follow the rules of the airways, and follow a set flight plan. The rules and reports seemed a little bothersome to the pilots of Bombing Six, who had become accustomed to flying out in the Pacific, where "the airways were free, just roam where you want, when you wanted to."
A PRISONER NEVER KNEW WHAT THE DAY MIGHT BRING. FOLLOWING UP ON HIS earlier steps, the camp commandant decided to pay all the American officers for their work. In early March, Captain Austin Shofner signed the forms presented to him, some of which indicated he had received clothing and rations that he had not, and accepted twenty pesos. The camp officials intimated that an account had been created at a bank in Japan where more money had been deposited for him and the other officers. The guards opened a small PX and sold soda water, peanuts, fried bananas, and leaf tobacco. "Supply," Shifty noted unhappily, "was about one-tenth of the demand."
What supplies could be added to their stock were purchased and smuggled out in a work cart to a hiding place. The team also used the money to purchase key equipment on the black market run by Filipinos: nails, a hammer, a screwdriver, a small roll of wire, a compass, a bolo knife, a road map of Mindanao, and field glasses. In the workshop of the penal colony, one man made a cooking pot. Topping the list, the team's machinist crafted a sextant that exceeded McCoy's expectations.
Information about Mindanao was gathered. The detail of men who went to the ocean to make salt had some information, as did the Americans who had been captured on Mindanao. The team's Filipino guides had suggestions and the map that had been purchased provided a general frame of reference. Having picked a rendezvous point in the jungle,
the team would set off for Longa-og, a barrio about fifteen miles away. The hamlet was rumored to have some guerrillas. From Longa-og, they would cross the mountains to Cateel, a barrio on the east coast, "where we were told there were some bancas [boats]."
On March 14, the team rehearsed the escape without their supplies and equipment in order to work out the timing of the rendezvous. If caught practicing, they hoped the guards would assume they were trying to steal food and beat them and put them in solitary confinement, but not kill anyone. They set D-day for Sunday, March 28, and waited for the week to pass. A few days later, Hawkins, Dobervich, and Shifty were part of a crew weeding the onion patch. The American officer in charge of the work caught Dobervich stealing onions. He began to lay into Dobervich. An argument began. Hawkins jumped in, and before Shofner knew it Hawkins had punched a ranking officer. The angry man took his report to the American camp commander, who threw Hawk and Dobervich off their work details. Another member of the team, Sam Grashio, talked his way into replacing Hawkins on Shifty's plowing detail; the two continued to cart their gear out to the hiding area, one small piece at a time. McCoy, who could not get overly angry with Hawkins and Dobervich because his own men were stealing chickens by the day, had to go make peace with the U.S. camp commander, who strove to keep the peace as a way of minimizing the death toll.
On Saturday, the twenty-seventh, the rain came down in sheets. Shifty told his team of drovers to rest in the shack since no work could be done. Lieutenant Hosume, the captain of the guard and a man who loved to smack his prisoners around, made an inspection. The prisoners were supposed to be working. He lined the team up and slapped them. He then opened their bags, which were to contain only each man's noon ration of rice. Shofner knew one man had some equipment and he himself had "a bottle containing the entire quinine supply for our escape" in his musette bag.7 Hosume looked in the bag. He saw the bottle of pills. However, he was looking for forbidden foods, such as fruits or vegetables. With a one- track mind, the guard they called "the Crown Prince of Swat" punched Shofner again and continued on. Shifty said he had just "established a new world's record for holding the breath." Lieutenant Hosume did find a work party carrying stolen food. He ordered all hands to work in the rice fields the next day, Sunday, as punishment.