“I’ve got to send him back to the base hospital,” Sumner told the skipper, who nodded in agreement. “If we don’t, he might lose that thumb. He might anyway.”
The guerrillas were so overjoyed to see the Scouts that, as the rubber boat approached the beach, a group of them hoisted Sumner from the craft and carried him ashore. In that less-than-graceful manner, he was presented to Maj. Jose Nazareno, commander of the 2nd Battalion, 96th Infantry Regiment, of the Leyte Area Command.
“We are so glad you have come,” said Nazareno, who, at five feet nine inches, was unusually tall for a Filipino. “You have brought us guns, yes?”
“I have brought you guns, yes,” Sumner replied. “Let’s get some help to unload them.”
Nazareno ordered two large canoes, or baratos, to proceed to the PT boat. Sumner boarded one. As the supplies were being unloaded, the guerrillas turned over two Japanese prisoners, who were ordered to sit on the PT boat’s fantail. Contrary to their warrior code of Bushido, they remained there with no apparent interest in trying to escape.
“A pair of realists,” Sumner said to Blaise.
Unloading the PT boat took forty-five minutes, during most of which the young skipper fidgeted. He wanted to get back to Leyte before daylight. Shortly after one a.m., all gear was ashore. Sumner checked once more on Coleman, who, cradling his bandaged hand, appeared to be in a state of mild shock. He did not want to leave the team and the mission.
“We can’t treat you properly,” Sumner told the distraught man. “You’re no good to me with one hand. Besides, if you don’t get medical help, you might lose that thumb, and then I lose you permanently. I need you healthy. You’re going back.”
Coleman nodded meekly.
* * *
Once in the village of Abijao, the team was not prepared for what they saw. More than two hundred festive partyers jammed the street in a noisy victory celebration. Wine and local cuisine was featured, and dance music—Visayan tunes, Filipino melodies, and American big band—was provided by musicians playing an accordion, a violin, and a motley assortment of horns. Speeches were given by anyone wishing to be heard, although few were over the revelry.
To guard against a sudden Japanese attack, two companies of guerrillas manned picket posts on every road leading into Abijao.
On November 7 the team moved on to San Isidro, where Sumner established a radio station in the village and detailed Schermerhorn and Jones to remain behind and run the communications operation and coordinate supply drops. A second radio would stay with the team. The next day Sumner’s group, less Schermerhorn and Jones, along with a company of guerrillas headed inland toward the central mountain range, whose jagged, mist-enshrouded peaks jutted four thousand feet into the sky before sloping down into the fertile Ormoc Valley.
Assisted by the guerrillas and members of local militia groups called the Volunteer Guards, Sumner’s first destination was the barrio of Matag. Upon reaching a small village along the trail, the team was billeted on the second floor of the largest bodega, or house, in town. They would sleep on low-framed beds with woven rattan mattresses, Sumner’s first experience, he later wrote, with “this peculiar form of punishment.”
As his Filipino hosts prepared to leave to allow the Scouts to get some rest, a young man of about twenty told Sumner, “Sir, we are so happy to have the whites back. You will never know what the Japs did to us. Thank you for coming back.”
The comment left Sumner deeply touched.
The team had been asleep about three hours when a bugle call blasted them awake.
“Latrine dis away,” a Filipino guerrilla announced.
Breakfast consisted of chicken and duck eggs fried in coconut oil, fried plantains, pork chops, steamed rice, and locally grown coffee. It was sumptuous, but proved hard on the digestive systems of men not used to island cuisine.
After eating, the Scouts opened the weapons crates and issued carbines and M1s, along with ammunition, to two companies of guerrillas who had little in the way of armament. Sumner noted that they were in desperate need of clothing, too. The guerrillas wore a mixture of civilian attire, mainly captured Japanese gear, U.S. web equipment, and maybe shoes. Socks were a luxury. Headgear included straw buris, U.S.-issue tropical helmets, and a few U.S. campaign hats, these last mostly worn by the professionally trained Filipino Scouts. No Japanese helmets were worn for fear of being shot by friendly fire.
Striking out for Matag, a barrio in the lower foothills of Leyte’s mountainous spine, the column of men moved without incident. In each village, new Volunteer Guards relieved other VG men, taking over the duty of carrying supplies. Also at each stop, Sumner was introduced to the barrio chieftain, or tente. This man, who was either elected or appointed, or had succeeded to the post by heredity, controlled every aspect of life in the barrio. His word was law.
In each village the natives foisted fresh water, fruit, flowers, chickens, and eggs on the grateful Scouts until they could carry no more. They were also regaled with comments, more inquisitive than derogatory, about their height, skin, and hair color, especially the strawberry blond Sumner.
The team reached Matag around four p.m., and the command post (CP) was set up in the largest house. That night, the Americans were again treated to a festival with food and music, safe from Japanese discovery thanks to the guerrillas’ effective alert system, which would spot enemy forces miles before they reached Matag.
During the party, Sumner sat with Nazareno.
“You have a finely disciplined group of men here, Major,” Sumner said.
“Sí,” Nazareno replied. “But we need more weapons and equipment to kill more Japs.”
“Make me a list of your needs, and I’ll arrange an airdrop,” Sumner said. “Is there a place where we can establish a drop zone that won’t jeopardize our operations?”
Nazareno thought, then said, “I think the barrio of Mas-in would be good. It is on our way.”
Sumner agreed. Besides, he thought an airdrop behind Japanese lines would have an unsettling effect on enemy morale.
That night he sent an “eyes only” message to Colonel Rowalle with the request for arms, ammo, web gear, and clothing for two hundred men. The drop would be in forty-eight hours.
The guerrillas’ need for ammo and automatic weapons was highlighted the next day, when they got into a hot skirmish with a Japanese patrol near the village of Picoy. Besides being outgunned, the Filipinos, undisciplined in combat skills, fired off twice as much ammunition as was necessary.
Their journey was delayed by a fierce tropical storm that forced the men to find whatever meager cover they could to protect themselves from the heavy rainfall. The storm passed as suddenly as it had appeared, and the column resumed its march. At a bridge near the barrio of Sabang-Boa, the guerrillas at the point ran into a Japanese patrol. A hot skirmish ensued, with weapons blazing and men shouting excitedly. The fight ended as quickly as the earlier storm, with no casualties suffered by either side. However, the enemy was now aware of the Americans’ presence. Worse, the radio had broken down and time was lost having to repair it.
After arriving at Mas-in, the guerrillas began hacking out a drop zone, bordered by mounds of underbrush to be set alight as needed. The C-47s, three of them, arrived on time at two p.m. Sumner guided them to the target area by having the piles of debris set ablaze. The Skytrains made two passes over the smoky triangle, dropping thirty-six large bundles, which floated to earth under red and white canopies. As the men hastily unwrapped the bundles, their eyes lit up as they found Garands, carbines, BARs, ammo, clothing, gasoline, coffee, cigarettes, and bundles of Stars and Stripes and Life magazines. Clearing the DZ quickly, the column soon struck out along the valley bound for Puerto Bello, which would afford them a vantage point to keep tabs on the Japanese at Ormoc.
Sumner spent the next several days in the Mas-in area, setting up a radio station and organizing a twenty-one-man intelligence unit consisting of guerrillas and local constabulary.
Inexplicably, the Japanese did not send patrols to try to find Sumner and his men, even though, he felt, the enemy had to know of his whereabouts, the airdrop was so blatant. Sumner could only assume that the Japanese commander at Ormoc did not choose to risk his men with little hope of finding the Scouts.
Still, there was always the risk of betrayal.
“There are people in Puerto Bello we suspect of being makapili, Jap collaborators,” Nazareno’s intelligence officer told Sumner. “We keep them under watch.”
“I have complete confidence in your people,” Sumner told him.
Following the several sea battles off the Leyte and Samar coasts, Japanese prisoners—both soldiers and sailors from sunken ships—began arriving at Sumner’s CP, under Filipino guard. From these Sumner was able to ascertain that elements of the Japanese 1st and 6th divisions had been transferred from China to Leyte, coming ashore at Palompan.
While at Puerto Bello, Sumner’s HQ was a twelve-foot-by-twenty-foot bamboo house with a palm-thatch roof and a small porch, built on a hillside. The whole thing was set up on stilts about four feet off the ground. The team spent several weeks there, scouting throughout the Ormoc area, “showing the flag, as it were,” Sumner later recalled.
After about two weeks, the Japanese could no longer tolerate the Americans’ presence and troops were landed just six miles from Puerto Bello. Now there were ever more frequent clashes with the guerrillas. Falling back to Mas-in to avoid contact, guerrilla scouts alerted Sumner that Japanese troops were on both sides of him, at distances of less than a mile.
“The Japs are trying to squeeze us,” Sumner told his men. “Plus, for all I know, our radio broadcasts are being monitored and maybe even deciphered.”
“I think we relocate, and fast,” Blaise said.
“I agree,” Sumner responded, unfolding a map. “We’ll displace north and west to the slopes of Mount Naguang.” He pointed to a place on the map. “From here we can better protect our radio setup and we have several escape routes in case the Nips come at us in force.”
Sumner turned to the Filipino radio officer, Lieutenant Cabrido.
“Send a signal to Sixth Army headquarters that we will be out of commo [communication] for a couple of days, and that once we’ve relocated, I will be requesting another airdrop. We’re running low on ammo, medical supplies, and rations. We’ve been living off the generosity of our hosts too long. It’s time we give something back.”
By the latter, Sumner was not just referring to food, but sewing machine needles. There were many sewing machines on the island, but since 1943 the civilians had been out of the needles necessary to make new clothes. This odd request sent Alamo Scout procurement officer Mayo Stuntz scrambling. Locating several army and navy supply units, he managed to secure needles in all sizes. As a bonus, he also sent along parachute silk for garments. Most of the natives had been wearing outfits of coarse abacca, made from a thread derived from banana plants.
The drop was made on November 18, and not a moment too soon. By Sumner’s reckoning, the guerrillas had only twenty minutes’ worth of ammo remaining, enough for one good fight.
As Sumner’s column moved toward its new position on Mount Naguang, they passed through a series of small villages, and in each they were again treated as liberators. Sumner felt the people “were starved for the American presence and an end to the Japanese.” Up until this point, the natives’ morale had been bucked up by broadcasts from Radio San Francisco, and they risked death by listening to The Voice of Liberty, a news program aired daily through the U.S. Office of War Information. They were also bolstered by underground newspapers that were typewritten and mimeographed, when possible, for circulation. Now, at last, the Americans were back.
One stop on the trail to Mount Naguang was near the village of Valencia, five miles west of a Japanese airfield. There, the irascible radio broke down again and seemed beyond repair. Unbelievably, a day or two later, a Japanese airplane droning overhead, the pilot obviously disoriented, released a wicker supply basket attached to a parachute, which drifted down on the Americans’ position. The guerrillas retrieved it. Opening it, Sumner’s jaw dropped. Inside was a Japanese radio with spare tubes.
“What the hell?” he muttered. He turned to Blaise. “A gift from Tojo, Bill. Can you cannibalize this stuff and get our goddamned piece of junk working again?”
“I think so,” Blaise replied.
He and the three Filipino radiomen, Lt. Inoconcio F. Cabrido, Pvt. Trinidad Sison, and Pvt. Agapito Amano, went to work and soon had Sumner back in radio communications.
The radio would break down again about a week later, and would incredibly be repaired thanks to yet another misdropped Japanese radio.
* * *
Sumner’s new CP on Mount Naguang was in the village of Cagdaat. His base of operations was a large house tucked into the trees with a spring-fed pool some thirty feet beyond. The radio shack was about a hundred feet away, sited for direct communication with 6th Army headquarters across the island. The Filipinos created a drop zone about a thousand yards to the east and north. With the help of Nazareno, a native intelligence network was established to report on Japanese movements, troop strength, and locations. Often, the guerrillas attacked Japanese outposts and patrols.
During the trek, Sumner had also picked up five downed American pilots, some of whom were enjoying a life of leisure among the grateful natives. These men he sent back to San Isidro in the company of guerrillas.
“Time to get you boys back to work,” he said as he packed the fliers off.
* * *
In early December, about a month into the lengthy mission, Sumner received a radio report about well-camouflaged Japanese warehouses on the outskirts of Ormoc City that reportedly contained stores of food and ammunition. The 6th Army had called in air strikes, but the planes had been unable to spot the buildings beneath their camouflage netting. The task of knocking out the warehouses was thus passed on to Sumner and his men. He sat down with Nazareno and drew up plans to form a special contact company.
After laying out the mission, he said, “In your command you have a number of Philippine Scouts. I need enough men to make up three platoons of three squads each. I want veterans, men with good, solid combat experience.”
Nazareno agreed and word went out. Within days, highly trained Philippine Scouts, some with as many as twenty years in the army, began trickling in to Sumner’s CP. He quickly divided them into squads with nine riflemen and one automatic weapon, either a BAR or a submachine gun. Sumner would also take with him a captured Japanese 82mm mortar, and parachute flares to light up the area if needed. Should they be discovered and attacked and have to get out in a hurry, the mortar was considered expendable.
Before departing, Sumner requested another airdrop, this time to supply him with not just small-arms ammo but incendiary grenades and quarter-pound blocks of TNT.
After taking a day or two to rehearse his ad hoc company on how to function as a unit, the column struck off toward Ormoc City, arriving at their objective in the early evening hours. There they settled down in the underbrush to wait for darkness. Sumner knew the layout. While the Scouts had been assembling, he had made several personal reconnaissance trips to the area and discovered three expertly hidden warehouses. He had also dispatched his most reliable guerrilla agents to creep to within just a few yards of the buildings. There they took detailed notes of the number of guards, the size of the structures, the distances to the doors from the nearest cover, and the distances between buildings, including the guard shack.
As he waited for nightfall, Sumner called in his team, Renhols, Weiland, Blaise, and Jones (who had since rejoined the team from Abijao), and his three platoon leaders for a final briefing.
Addressing the third platoon leader, Sumner continued.
“You will set up your line about two hundred yards from the main gate. Deploy in two-man positions, but do not dig in. As for the rest of us, first and second platoons will go with me into the warehouse area. There’s about a squad of Japs stationed there, but only about three or four are on duty at a time. We will take them out quickly and silently. Under no circumstances is anyone to fire his weapon. Stress that to your men. If any shot is fired, we will abort the mission and fall back on third platoon. Clear?” Everyone nodded. “OK. We go at twenty-two hundred.”
* * *
Slipping into the warehouse at ten p.m. as planned, the Filipinos went about, knives in hand, dispatching the Japanese guards. The enemy soldiers in the guard shack were not disturbed; however, one squad of Philippine scouts was posted outside with orders to cut them down should they suddenly emerge.
With the sentries dead, the platoons split up and entered their assigned warehouse. Entering one building, which measured thirty by sixty feet, Sumner—by the eerie glow of a red-hooded flashlight—found the place stacked with fifty-kilo bags of rice and crates of canned goods piled eight feet high. Working rapidly, the men began placing TNT charges with five-minute fuses, pushing them back into the stacks of supplies. Sumner knew that in the other warehouses his men were doing the same thing. With the TNT in place, the fuses were ignited.
Shadows In the Jungle Page 22