Sunday, December 04, 2005

More excerpts from my uncle's memoirs of his war service.

These are the last few days on Corregidor:
All activity of the battery was carried on under exposure to sudden attacks by the enemy. The Height Finder was put out of action twice, once repaired at the position and once taken to the Ordnance Shop for repairs. We missed no action due to this, but obtained our altitude readings from other batteries.

Heavy bombers, dive bombers, Zero fighters and enemy artillery wer besieging Corregidor during this period. Three Naval seaplanes operated at dive bombing during the period May 1 to May 6. Planes dive bombed AA three inch and 50 calibre machine gun positions daily.

Heavy bombers and dive bombers extensively bombed the small navy and army ships anchored in Caballo Bay, the majority of the craft being either sunk or severely damaged by their action before the surrender of Corregidor.. . .
Corregidor was ringed by older coast artillery batteries used to defend against Naval bombardment before the advent of
air power. My uncle's battery was set above one of these, Battery Ramsey, with anti-aircraft guns. He mentions that he was uncomfortable with the layout because one part of it was on top of the powder magazine. My uncle reports that Battery Geary's magazine was hit, but the Corregidor.org site states that Ramsey was hit. I don't know whether this in addition to Geary or just a mistake. If Ramsey had been destroyed, it would have come later, because such an explosion would probably have killed my uncle.
On May 2, [1942,] Battery Geary, a 12 inch seacoast mortar battery was blown up by enemy artillery fire pentetrating the powder magazines. This was a tremendous explosion, which moved the heavy guns from their positions and through walls into other positions, on to up above on the golf course. The roof of the magzine was 3 feet of reinforced concrete, earthen covered. Section of this ceiling were blown great distances. One five hundred pound block of this concrete came three quarters of a mile and landed in our position, landing on a Private, a telephone operator, who was on duty in his foxhole at a gun position. He died on the way to the hospital. Another large block of this concrete, with 2 inch rod [of] reinforcing steel sticking out like spider legs, came the same distance and buried itself in the ground between our M-4 Director and Height Finder. This was a horrendous thing to watch such large heavy objects being thrown around by the blast of the magazine exploding. It gave us some idea of what would happen if Battery Ramsey magazine [immediately below his battery] were blown.

The night of May 2, 1942, three men deserted the battery--two privates and a sergeant. One year later, in prison camp, I was to learn of their fate.

One night we were in the fire control system, making repairs, when the area was suddenly and intensely shelled with an intense barrage of 240 mm guns from the enemy in Bataan. We all sought cover as best we could. One enlisted man and myself were huddled behind a concrete wall of the Quartermaster Stables. This barrage lasted about 30 to 40 minutes and was like 4th of July fireworks. Shells were landing in among us. Some shells, apparently tumbling in flight, made weird, hideous whistling noises as they passed or came in.

This was the most nerve wracking experience of the war for me, being pinned down unable to move and just waiting for the next shell to come in.. . . We stayed put and eventually endured the barrage.

On May 4th, a Private First Class was killed in a machine gun pit which he was manning, firing at dive bombers. Apparently the dive bomber at which he was firing placed a bomb directly in the machine gun pit with him. He was killed instantly. It was surprising to see a man killed by concussion, with almost all bones broken in the body and no spot of blood on him.. . .
A few days later, up early in the morning ahead of his men, he recounts,
On this morning I had been on active duty with the military one year to the day. This was the morning of the surrender of Corregidor although I did not know this yet. That morning I did not expect to see home and loved ones again. I was alone on the parapet of Ramsey making my own peace with myself and my maker and saying goodbye to loved ones at home. Later that day I did not believe there would be time for this reflection.

Immediately below, scattered through the low brush, lay the AA guns with crews sleeping on the gun platforms, fully clothed, blankets wrapped loosely around them to keep out the tropical dampness of night. At each position a soldier kept lonely watch. At the Battery Commander's station the Lieutenant was on duty, as were two men at the controls of the M-4 Director.

The still, tropical morning was broken by intermittent bursts of light cannon from the Bataan shoreline. Occasional flares of light silhouetted the towering rubber trees overhead. At the extremity of Monkey Point, sporadic rattling of machine gun and rifle fire brought back grim reality that the Japanese were on Corregidor, coming in droves from hundreds of small landing barges escheloned back into dark Manila Bay. The had built up their landing force at Cabe Cabe, 5 miles away in Bataan.

It had been five months of siege on the "rock." Bataan had fallen a month ago. Food supplies were short and ammunition low. At 4,000 yards point blank range on the Bataan shoreline, Japanese had located hundreds of field cannon. Corregidor for days had been subjected to withering artillery barrage and heavy bombing. Now there was little doubbt that the enemy had sufficient men and equipment to overwhelm the smaller, underfed, worn out defenders.

I was thinking of home, seven thousand miles away; of a wife, of a son or daughter who was probably two months old now, of a red-haired girl of six and a blond son of seven. A cablegram five months before was the last communication, when Manila fell.. . . There was no thought of surrender. Indications were that Corregidor would be a second Alamo. The relief so long awaited was not possible. Yet every day on the "rock" was held meant diversion of enemy effort away from the drive against Australia. It was imperative that Allied formce beat the Japanese to the Indies and Australia.
The last paragraph may sound trite to our postmodern age, but it is still affecting, because it's just how I would be feeling under such circumstances. This was long before we became used to blaming our leaders and seeing ourselves as victims. These men had plenty to feel bitter about. MacArthur and Roosevelt had left them and the Filipinos an impossible task of defending the islands against the Japanese as sacrifices to delay their sweep of the Pacific. We read these stories and call them "the Greatest Generation," but I doubt that my uncle would like that phrase. He would have said, like others of during those years, "We just did what we had to. The whole nation was part of that war." That spirit is still alive today in our volunteer military, but it only receives scorn from those who consider themselves intellectuals today.

I've always thought that Vietnam was lost because it was run by people who didn't believe in victory. But how can you ask a man to put himself at risk, live like a primitive and kill others for a "holding action" if you don't intend to win in the end?

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