# The Flowering of Racial Spirit/Front-lines of Bataan

Front-lines of Bataan
I went on an observation tour of the front-lines in Bataan Peninsula on the 5th of March, 1942, which lasted for three days. Starting from San Fernando, Pampanga, I proceeded to Hermosa, Bataan, by way of Guagua; and from the east coast, crossing the foot of the Natib mountain range, went to Olongapo on the west coast, and thereat put up for the night. Then we landed at Mayagao by a launch, and thence we went as far as Moron. I have various thoughts, and I cannot describe them wholly within such a short article as this. But the tour of these few days made me realize the difficulties, which are beyond description, of our officers and soldiers, and made my breast choke with emotion. The experience which I had in running about the battlefields of China with a gun in my hand enabled me to understand how this new ​battlefield of the South, in various changing features, blocked up in the face of the unlimited valour of our soldiers.
When I stood up on a hill which was located in the eastern side of Mabatang, it was so hot that my breath was almost checked by the rising vapour which seemed to be blazing up. I heard that formerly a very formidable enemy fortification was located at this place, and a furious battle developed here. The ranges of Mount Natib undulate to the right, and if we stand facing southward, Mount Mariveles, with its irregular shape full of swellings and depressions, can be seen through the deep clear blue air. In front of this, Mount Samat stands in a lower plane but in a clearer relief. It may be due to the clearness of the air that these mountains appear so near that it seems as if we could touch them with our finger if we point at them, and it makes us think as if we could reach at the summit in one or two hours by walking. The trees of ​mango and acacia, groves of banana and coconut trees, bamboo clumps, and Manila Bay which can be seen on the left; together with these objects, this scenery of scorching heat is overflowing with robust masculine beauty. It does not make us think that on the mountains and among the valleys at the foot of them, which appear so beautiful in front of us, there are numberless enemy forces establishing their positions, installing cannons, and aiming at the lives of our soldiers. I felt, nevertheless, a kind of pathetic, ghastly and eerie atmosphere abounding at this short interval in the afternoon under this dazzlingly clear sunshine.
There are many large cannon shell craters everywhere in the fields around us. Trees and bamboo clumps on the roadsides along our way were miserably cut down. Bamboo trees in the clumps were cut half-way, causing their tops to bend on the ground in long columns. It seems that the shelling was very furious. ​The cannon shell craters in the fields showed that the shells which have caused them have fallen one after the other in the same spot; some other shells fell successively in a line from another nearby shell, their patterns forming the shapes of a gourd or skewered dumplings. These craters are filled with water, where many carabaos are wallowing pleasantly.
I hear that Bataan Peninsula had been the ground for maneuvers of the USAFFE. Measurements of the comparative distance or range between any two points had been taken sight of. Therefore, the toils of our forces have by no means been easy. One of our soldiers said that enemy forces fired cannon shells as frequently as rifle bullets, and another soldier said that if we fired one shell the enemy returned our firing a hundred-fold, and still another said that cannon shells as large as drum cans were hurled against us at the rate of thirty times a minute. I gazed on the faces ​of soldiers who told me such things, with a feeling that nearly caused tears to flow from my eyes. They told me such stories about the wantonness of the enemy’s firing, without any expression of fear, impossibility or difficulty in matching such a cannonading. They talked about such wanton firing with laughter, as if they could not help laughing. Perhaps the enemy forces who were entrapped in Bataan Peninsula may have been already driven into a desperate plight. We don’t know how many cannon shells they have in stock, but perhaps they have enough to fire cannon shells as if they were rifle bullets, or thirty times a minute, or cannon shells as large as drum cans.
However, our soldiers must laughingly spring to the charge against such ridiculous enemy counter-attacks. I can firmly believe in such boundless courage of the Japanese soldiers.
It is already a question of time when Bataan Peninsula will fall into the hands of our ​forces. The appearances of the front regions like San Fernando, Guagua, Hermosa, Mabatang, Olongapo, or Moron, are full of variety, but the sense of reliance on the serenity of our soldiers, which is overflowing in these towns, is directly connected with the idea of completion of this magnificent war of Greater East Asia. I cannot forget this impression.
We had fought for a long time against the Chinese forces in the battlefields of China, but behind them lay concealed the United States of America and Britain. We are now fighting against these true enemies, and I am forced into an irrepressible indignation when we see the tyrannical figures in another shape of white men in the battlefields of Bataan. They are making the Filipino soldiers as their puppets, and making the Filipinos as the victims to be sacrificed. We are not fighting against the Filipinos, but those who expose their corpses in the battlefields are mostly Filipino soldiers. I met with many Filipino ​prisoners of war at Hermosa, Olongapo, Moron, etc. Their families and homes are in the regions which are occupied by the Japanese forces, and they are enjoying a safe and peaceful existence. These families who are with the Japanese forces, are anxious day and night about their sons or brothers, who were taken away and forced by the Americans to make a stand in the fronts of Bataan.
The fronts in Bataan which are under such circumstances, bewilder the benevolent Japanese forces a little. And the indignation against the tyrannical Americans is all the more intensified. The Filipino prisoners of war and surrenderers are kindly protected; so kindly protected that one of the young Filipinos at Moron climbed a high coconut tree and plucked a fruit for us. We, being brought face to face with that Filipino soldier, enjoyed the sweet juice and the meat of the coconut fruit and smacked our tongues.
We also saw at Olongapo the inhabitants ​cooperating in the pounding of palay. Under the clear sky, from which stars were twinkling as if they were threatening to rain down their sparks, were gathered many people—old and young, men and women—pounding palay with pestles to the tune of guitars and harmonicas, and to the rhythm of songs. I heard it as a song of the revival of the New Philippines. The Japanese soldiers, too, helped in the pounding.
In the fronts of Bataan the warriors’ morale is overflowing. The stupid cannonading of the enemy is beyond question. The day on which the flag of the Rising Sun will fly on the summit of Mount Mariveles, and when the fortresses of Corregidor shall be rendered into ruins, shall come to pass in a not very distant future.
(March 10, 1942)