A Song For Lisa

by Clifton La Bree

  “We’ll certainly do that, Lieutenant Wright. What will you do when we leave?” asked Madame June.

  “I’m a soldier and I follow orders. We’ve got a war to win. If there are any more prisoners on the islands, we’ll do the same thing we did at your old compound. It has been a privilege, ladies. Go home to your families now and put this sordid experience behind you. God bless and bon voyage.”

  “And may God bless you, young man,” said Madame June, embracing him. “Thank you…thank you….” She turned to hide the tears Jonathan saw rolling down her cheeks.

  Lisa also hugged and kissed him softly on the cheek. “Good-bye, Lieutenant. We’ll pray for your safety. I’ll never forget your kindness. Take care of yourself, soldier.”

  Jonathon touched his cheek where she had kissed him. Suddenly he felt alone and insignificant watching the barge slowly back away from the beach. Lisa and Madame June waved to him as the craft turned toward the large white hospital ship. He looked at his radio man who was also moved by the poignancy of the moment.

  “I don’t know about you, sir, but I’m going to miss those ladies.”

  “You’re not alone, corporal,” replied Jonathon, shouldering his Thompson. “Lets gather up the platoon and check in at headquarters.”

  Jonathon’s platoon fought on Luzon with elements of the 37th Infantry Division in the outskirts of Manila. The initial landings had been relatively unopposed. The deeper they advanced into the interior of the island the more stubborn the Japanese resistance became. General MacArthur ordered the capture of the capital city of Manila as soon as possible. He was returning with an army powerful enough to clear all of the Philippine Islands of their despot occupiers. It would be a costly operation. The Japanese had assembled its finest divisions on Leyte and Luzon under its most fanatical commander, General Yamashito. They fought to the death of every man.

  Jonathon and his men were given orders for another perilous mission in the suburbs of Manila. Several road networks feeding into the city proper were controlled by two bridges to the north. Air bombardment was risky for the local population, and would be used only as a last resort. The Rangers’ job was to destroy the bridges so that Japanese reinforcements could not enter the city and those already in the metropolitan area could not retreat. Once the enemy was restricted in movement of men and material, they could be eliminated easier by the superiority of American artillery and air power.

  The bridges were two miles apart from each other. Jonathon split his platoon into two teams. Lieutenant Jacob would take one team to the closest bridge, while he assumed responsibility for blowing the one further inland. He broke away from the first team so that he could make a wide flanking left hook around the city into suburban sections that were less apt to have concentrations of enemy soldiers. Each team was equipped with three half-tracks with four fifty-caliber machine gun mounts and a radio Jeep. Jonathon rode in the point Jeep with a map and his Thompson on his lap. He selected trails and insignificant roadways in an effort to avoid running into major enemy strongholds. He would need all the firepower and men once they arrived at the bridge. They laid up during daylight hours in an abandoned coconut grove.

  As soon as the sun set they drove recklessly along dusty paths toward the main road artery, which ran over the bridge. Late in the evening, they could see the bridge from a hilltop in the moonlight. It was light enough for them to drive without headlights. They approached the bridge with every man’s nerves alert and ready. The men and vehicles were covered with tree and brush branches to make them more difficult to identify as American vehicles. There was much confusion in the rear areas of Manila. That fact would aid them.

  The task force pulled off into an abandoned road along the river’s flood plain close to the bridge without being discovered. They had been lucky so far! They stopped in the shadow of the bridge overhead. One large bridge abutment was right beside the vehicle. Jonathon decided to blow the support with all of the charges they had brought with them. It wasn’t necessary to destroy the complete bridge. One failing support would render the bridge useless to the enemy. Not one Japanese soldier could be seen guarding the vulnerable cement pilings. The Rangers worked methodically and rapidly placed the charges where they would do the most damage.

  Jonathon looked at his watch. It was getting light. He had plotted their exit route from the area by heading north using a road along the river. He gathered the lead wires and attached them to the detonator. Making sure that the area was cleared, the task force moved as far north as the wire would allow. Jonathon quickly accounted for each of his men, and then detonated the charges.

  The blast pulverized portions of the pilings. For a fraction of a second the bridge, heavy with Japanese truck traffic, bowed and swayed when the support failed. A portion of the bridge filled with vehicles crumbled into the river. It almost seemed to be happening in a slow motion film.

  The Rangers had watched long enough to see if their handiwork was successful in putting the bridge out of commission. Jonathon yelled: “Let’s roll,” and climbed in the back seat of the Jeep grasping the thirty-caliber machine gun mount.

  Japanese tanks and trucks had set up a roadblock on the path along the river. Jonathon noted a drainage ditch about a hundred yards before the roadblock and directed his driver to take it. The half-tracks would follow. The Jeep engine was screaming in four-wheel drive as they cleared the drainage ditch onto a street filled with Japanese soldiers. Two machine gun emplacements with sandbags piled around them were directly in front of them.

  Speed and surprise were all they had at that point. The driver plunged towards the guns at full speed. Jonathon was firing the machine gun as fast as he could at the two enemy nests. The quad fifties on the first half-track also helped eliminate their threat. Seeking some refuge, the Jeep driver turned up a narrow alley filled with boxes and crates. The task force plowed through them. A cloud of dust and splintered wood particles filled the air. They ran close to a building as they exited from the alley.

  A Japanese soldier threw a hand grenade at the Jeep as it passed him. The blast caught Jonathon as he was turning the machine gun towards the enemy soldier. The last thing he remembered was a loud noise before darkness enveloped him. The driver was also injured in the blast. The Jeep came to a stop against a utility pole next to the alley. The Rangers in the half-tracks quickly pulled Jonathon and the driver from the smoldering Jeep while they peppered the surrounding area with fifty-caliber bullets, temporarily silencing any resistance. The powerful white half-tracks continued northward as fast as they could. Several miles later, they stopped to care for Jonathon and the driver, lying on the floor of the truck. The driver was dead. Jonathon was bleeding profusely from his upper chest cavity. His right arm and leg were badly shattered and bleeding, but he was alive! They sprinkled the open wounds with sulfa powder, dressing them with compress bandages, and carefully placed ponchos and jackets to cushion his body in the hard riding half-track. They sped at full speed back to American lines.

  Jonathon felt the movement of the vehicle and cried out in pain. His first thoughts were of his wife Hope. He repeated over and over. “I’m sorry, Hope… I’m sorry, Hope…”

  Chapter Eight

  The large white hospital ship with Red Cross markings began to pull anchor and leave Lingayen Gulf. Most of the former women prisoners were being treated deep within the hull of the massive ship. A few stayed on deck to watch the lush green forests covering the hills of Luzon fade in the distance. They had unique thoughts about leaving the place where each and every one of them believed they would die. Mixed emotions ran through their hearts. Most of the former inmates would always carry an intense hatred for the Japanese. They left the island feeling sad that they could not thank the kind, generous, and courageous Filipino people, who had braved death to throw food and clothes over the fence enclosure of the compound. The women knew that without their assistance, survival would have been impossible.

  There was a positive side to their in
carceration that they could not experience until now. They knew without a doubt that the three years in the prison would be the most grueling test they would ever have to endure in their lifetime. Having survived those tormented years, they privately became proud of themselves. They had found a deep reservoir of strength they never knew existed, and it had sustained them during some of the most difficult trials a human being can be subjected to. If they were capable of surviving imprisonment, they could face and overcome anything life presented in the future. It was a sentiment that touched each of the women, a moment of empowerment that enriched their souls. They had been spared death for some reason and they were eager to embark on the journey of life that lay ahead for them.

  Madame June and Lisa sat in two high-back chairs on the main deck near the bridge of the ship. Still dressed in the army tan pants and shirt that hung loosely on their thin, undernourished frames, they rested in the sun breathing the clean, fresh sea air. The gentle movement of the ship as it glided through the water was a new sensation for them. The cool breeze brushed their hair. It felt good to be alive. They were going home, yet home seemed a long ways from the fetid jungles of Luzon. It was a time for reflection and examination of where they had been and where they were going.

  “When I get home, I’m never going to leave, not for any reason,” declared Madame June, resting her head against the chair back with her eyes closed.

  “Where is your home, June?” asked Lisa. She had known the lady briefly before they were captured at the Manila Library. June had been an airline executive for the China Clipper Airways. Her husband had been a pilot for years and had been promoted as executive director for Asian operations.

  “I’m from Pennsylvania. My husband Robert and I own a modest home in the small town of Dauphne, a suburb of Harrisburg. I can tell you now that my real name is June Schenk. Bob and I are both from Pennsylvania Dutch families. You saw me in the library, which I rarely visited. That day I was simply returning a book for my husband.”

  “What a coincidence,” said Lisa, recalling that fateful day. “I was reviewing some census material for several of the islands that make up the Philippines. I was a US government census worker. Jobs were scarce before the war. I wanted to be a teacher, but the civil service opening paid more money, so I grabbed it. A year later, I was in a Japanese prison camp. I grew up in New Hampshire near the White Mountains.”

  “What a beautiful place. Robert and I have visited your White Mountains several times.”

  “Is your husband still in Pennsylvania?”

  “I’m not sure. The first year of our imprisonment, I received a notice from the Red Cross that Robert had been repatriated with a number of British and American subjects. Other than that I don’t know if he’s alive or dead…”

  “I’m sorry, June. I didn’t mean to pry. We all have a lot of catching up to do. Now that we’re leaving Luzon, I’m a little frightened of the world we have been absent from for three years.”

  “I’ve had similar thoughts too, Lisa. My grandson is probably in one of the armed services. Lieutenant Wright reminded me of him. Are you married?” asked June hesitantly.

  “No, Jeff Summers and I are not married. We vowed to marry the next time we met. The last time I saw him was in Washington, DC, shortly before the war started. I was on my way to Manila. Jeff had already joined the army. He was a second lieutenant. I have no idea if he’s alive or dead or badly wounded somewhere. He must have suffered not knowing what happened to me, although I did send word to him and my family through the Red Cross. Thank God we had them for a while.”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you ladies,” said a navy nurse. “We’ve processed most of your companions and would like you to come to the examination rooms. A doctor will be available to you, so feel free to ask any questions you may have. Take your time, we’re on our way to Guam, where we’ll drop off some of our patients who are well enough to rejoin their units.”

  Lisa and June followed the nurse to separate examination rooms where they were thoroughly checked by a nurse and a doctor dressed in the whitest linen they had seen in years. Lisa was apprehensive about the physical examination. A young nurse directed her to a chair.

  “Please sit down,” said the nurse in a calm voice. “I’m Ensign Hanley. I’m going to establish a file on you for our records. My notes have you listed as Lisa. Is that correct?”

  “Yes. I’m Lisa Carter.”

  The nurse asked her to remove all of her clothing so that the doctor could examine her. “I have a hospital johnny for you to put on after you remove your clothing. I understand your reluctance to do that, but the doctor cannot help you unless he examines you thoroughly. Doctor Day is a wonderful physician. You’ll be comfortable with him. I’ll remain with you.” The nurse helped Lisa remove her clothing and saw the burn and bruised markings on her wrists and ankles. “What caused those marks?” asked the nurse.

  “The Japanese tied me to the bed… I resisted, but it did no good….” Lisa began to cry. It was painful to think about, and even more painful to describe to a stranger who had no idea what the camp was like. Ensign Hanley embraced the trembling Lisa, holding her until she stopped shaking.

  “You’re a courageous lady, Lisa. I didn’t mean to upset you or have you recall such horrible memories. I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for you. Take your time. Sometimes it’s good to let it all out. We’re here to help you and no one is going to hurt you again.” Ensign Hanley was aghast at the weight loss of the young woman in her arms. Such weight loss in itself was life-threatening. Many of the women admitted that they had probably gained a pound or two since their rescue by the Rangers.

  Some degree of blindness afflicted all of the women. The doctors were quick to assure them that as their nutritional needs were met, the symptoms of blindness would slowly disappear. If the sight irregularity did not improve, the ship had facilities to make corrective glasses for those women who needed them. Dentists also joined the doctors in examining each patient so that corrective dental measures could be taken. Tooth extraction was performed on a large percentage of the women. Any type of denture needed by the women could be made on the ship, it was a traveling medical laboratory.

  Doctor Day joined Lisa and Ensign Hanley in the examination room. Lisa was a modest person by nature and was very uncomfortable having a strange doctor examine her.

  “I’m Doctor Day,” he announced, offering Lisa his hand. “I’m here to help you, Lisa Carter. Ensign Hanley has given me the notes she’s made about you. I want you to know that I admire your courage, and respect your tenacity to live and survive under the repressive conditions you’ve experienced. You’re a strong person and I admire strength of character. Do you have any questions before we begin our examination?”

  Tears filled her eyes again as she looked at the doctor and asked in a beseeching voice: “Is it possible that I’m pregnant…?” The question was filled with all the pain and horror a human being is capable of expressing. Lisa would have fallen off the stool if Ensign Hanley had not been there to hug her once again.

  Doctor Day winced at the terrifying possibility and selected his words with care. “My dear lady, I can’t answer that agonizing question right now. Try not to worry. I admit, that’s a foolish request to make under the circumstances. I want to check you thoroughly so that when we release you from this ship you’ll be on the path to normal health with the prospects of living a normal life.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question, Doctor Day,” exclaimed Lisa in a hysterical tone.

  “I know it doesn’t. Of course, I’ll check to see if you’re pregnant. It will take some time. We may not be able to determine that this early,” admitted Doctor Day. “Let me assure you, dear lady, that you’re going to get the finest medical care available anywhere in the world. Let’s take one step at a time. Right now, it’s important that you let us help restore you back to good health. Please, trust me. If tests prove that you’re pregnant, we’ll cross that bridge
when we get to it. That’s easier said than done I know, but it’s important for your general health that you try to avoid thinking about things that depress you. Will you try?”

  “I’ll do my best, but if I am pregnant, will you terminate the pregnancy?” Lisa asked, shaking all over. She surprised herself with the question.

  “I can’t answer that now,” replied Doctor Day. He knew she was going to ask that question and that his answer was inadequate. He intentionally did not tell her that he could not carry out her suggestion unless her health was at risk.

  After the physical and dental examinations, the former prisoners were led to a decontamination section where they basked beneath warm, medicating showers. It was a wonderful experience for the women. Some found themselves singing and humming beneath the relaxing nozzles. It had been three years since they enjoyed the luxury of a shower. Brand new clothing was provided from underclothes to blouses and skirts and white socks and low tennis shoes, for wear on board the ship.

  At the end of the evaluation and shower routine, the women were then treated to a haircut. Several nurses had volunteered to act as hairdressers. The doctors insisted on having their hair cut as short as the individuals would allow. The short hair was easier for them to maintain and treat for insect infestations. The haircut was a health-related operation instead of a stylistic statement. The procedure started with a shampoo before the cutting and one after the haircut to insure that all insect infestations were eradicated.

  The women continued their slow journey back to the individuals they had been before the war. Red Cross officials had interviewed each of them, so that their relatives could be informed of their release from the Japanese prison camp. They ate meals specifically designed for them that were tasty, nutritious, and easy to digest. The smell of brewing coffee and fresh baked bread stimulated their sense of smell. Once their digestive system became used to processing food normally their diets would change. They ate larger than usual servings at a sitting. The galley stewards enjoyed watching them eat. The most popular food was ice cream. It was the food they dreamed about in the hot sultry jungle. The stewards were happy to supply their fill. Most people take food for granted, but these women would never become that complacent again.