# The Flowering of Racial Spirit/The Siege of the Fortifications in Bataan Peninsula

​Page:The Flowering of Racial Spirit.djvu/42
The Siege of the Fortifications in Bataan Peninsula
Chapter I.—The beginning of the General Assault
I am now gazing at the scenery in a new seat of war in the South, which is very different from the battlefields in China, wherein I have had experience as a soldier. The masculine and rugged features of the fortifications in Bataan Peninsula, which the USAFFE has vaunted very much as impregnable, seem to rise and approach my vision in the rising vapour under the blue sky, which is so clear and bright as to dazzle our eyes.
It was at daybreak of the 22nd of December, 1941 that the first of our troops landed at the shore of Lingayen Gulf as the strategic operations for the Philippines were begun. The City of Manila capitulated on the 2nd day ​of January, 1942. Deserting all bases and defense positions, the enemy forces retreated to the peninsula of Bataan. They called it a “pre-scheduled retreat.”
Bataan is a peninsula which extends itself southward at the mouth of Manila Bay. It is about twenty-five kilometers wide from East to West, and fifty kilometers long from North to South. Between the southernmost point of the peninsula and the town of Ternate at the opposite shore, i.e., at the entrance of Manila Bay, is the fortress of Corregidor Island.
The enemy forces are confronting our forces at Mount Samat in front of Mount Mariveles, one of the steepest and most difficult terrains to assault in Bataan Peninsula, where the main forces of the enemy are entrenched. Mount Mariveles towers up into the clear Prussian blue of the sky, with its undulating shape as irregular as the jagged lines of the clumsily sharpened teeth of a saw. Mount Samat, which is in front of Mount Mariveles, ​rises clearer and more rugged, with two isolated trees standing erectly on its summit like ornamental hairpins. It seemed as if there must be enemy artillery observers in the trees who were taking note of our positions and the effects of their artillery activities. The mountain, which is conspicuously swelling as a bump on the undulation of Mount Samat, which is sloping into the sea, is Mount Orion, on which the pertinacious artillery positions of the enemy forces are situated.
It may be owing to the clearness of the air that these mountains appear to be so near that they may actually be touched by pointing our fingers to them. Tropical trees like coconut, banana, betel-nut, mango, dorian, and kapok are everywhere in groves, in rows or standing alone. We can find crimson flowers in bloom here and there. Bougainvillaea, gumamela, and poinsettia flowers are blooming, bright red in the shimmering scenery of the rising vapour. The white clouds are ever sweeping in ​a dazzling glitter over the undulating mountain ranges. It is full of robust masculine beauty. Upon seeing this, it cannot be imagined that tens of thousands of the enemy forces are polishing the muzzles of their guns and cannons within this scenery. But this sturdy and awe-inspiring scenery is full of terrible enmity.
The enemy forces fire their guns day and night from the slopes of the mountains. They seem to have an unlimited stock of ammunition. Their artillery, too, seems to function with accuracy.
All the towns in the vicinity are changed into miserable ruins. Forests and woods are wantonly burned to the ground. The bamboo trees along the road are cut halfway by cannon shells, thus bringing their tops down to the ground in long and continuous columns. Various trees, hit by cannon shells in the trunks, or at the foot of the trunks, are almost withered to death. The enemy forces must ​have fired cannon shells as if they were merely rifle bullets. One of our soldiers began to count how many were fired in a day; and he counted till four thousand three hundred and several odd ’ties, and he could not keep up counting any more. If we fire one shot, they return our fire tenfold. I am also told that cannon shells as large as drum cans were hurled against us in the morning and in the evening.
There are many craters made by cannon shells in the field, large holes made side by side like pockmarks on a face; in some instances two shells dropped one after the other in the same place, and in other instances shells dropped continuously and their traces appear like skewered dumplings.
In Bataan Peninsula, where water is so plentiful that if one digs one foot down into the ground water gushes out, the holes made by these shells are filled with water. Hundreds of carabaos which became ownerless and ​are left untended wallow in the pools made by the cannon shells, their bodies submerged and only their heads remaining visible above the water. They seem to be enjoying their wallow for their eyes are half-closed and their ears are flapping contentedly.
The enemy forces were in some degrees suffering from shortage of food. As the supply from the rear was suspended, they butchered carabaos and pigs for their food. But they consumed all of these during the long period of their entrenchment. So there was no other means left for them except to fetch palay and eat it after laboriously pounding it by pestles. At some points the distance between the enemy lines and our positions was only about thirty meters, and in such a case we could hear, now and then, the sound of the pounding of palay from the enemy lines. At first we took it for the pounding of the natives who, not being able to evacuate to safer places, were entrapped between the battle lines. But ​it was told by enemy soldiers who surrendered to, or were captured by us that it was the pounding of palay by the enemy forces.
They possessed plenty of ammunition in direct contrast with the scarcity of their food stock, but they could not eat cannon shells. I imagined how many times the enemy forces had wished that the cannon shells were loaves of bread. The enemy forces, who were almost faint with hunger, could not help being irritated. It came to pass perhaps when they felt that if they could not eat cannon shells they would make the Japanese forces eat them. In the height of their anger they fired cannon shells against us with greater speed and more ferocity. The above were recollections related to me afterwards by the prisoners of war.
It is not seldom that our most advanced front line is so near that it is only about thirty meters away from the enemy front lines; at the farthest it is about three hundred meters. This is due to the natural features of the ​irregular jungle zone. The trees and bamboos growing in the thick jungle entwine and entangle their branches towards every direction. Thus it is very difficult not only to pass but also to see through the said density. On the slender twigs of bamboos and other trees there are numbers of little sharp thorns, so that if we try to go through our faces and hands will be covered with plenty of lacerations. Even in the daytime, it is quite impossible to see through beyond five meters away, consequently it is very difficult to anticipate when and whence our patrols will be fired at. It is not infrequently that the enemy patrols and our patrols meet each other face to face all of a sudden in the jungles. The enemy forces hide themselves in dugouts at the foot of bamboos or other trees—dugouts wherein only a single person can be contained—and they wait in ambush with the muzzles of their guns aimed at the outlets of the passages through the jungles, so that bullets are fired from every ​unexpected direction. Moreover, the guns are fixed in such a way that the triggers or gunlocks can be pulled without any possibility of missing the targets.
Bataan Peninsula has for years been the ground for maneuvers of the Filipino-American forces. They are well acquainted with the topography of the terrain, and of the relative distance or shooting range between any given two points. Measurements have been previously made for a long time so as to enable them to fire easily and accurately at any point. The enemy’s manner of firing is very wanton, and once they begin firing they do so incessantly and without pause. They fire cannon shells and rifle bullets at the same rate of frequency, and so frantically, that they pour out like a veritable hurricane.
There are multifold and irregular swellings and depressions connecting the mountains, valleys, rivers and plains; and we can pass onward by foot, but the progress of ​motorized and horse-drawn units are very greatly hampered.
The difficulties of fighting in such a terrain are beyond description. The enemy forces concentrate their firing against us day and night. Under such a situation the preparation for the general assault was carried on silently but steadily.
On the 3rd of April, 1942, the general assault was at last begun. Hundreds of cannons from the Japanese positions, which were heretofore in deathly silence even under the enemy’s cannon shelling, opened fire simultaneously, with their thundering sounds echoing and re-echoing among the mountains. Cannon shells pelted out with fire and great booming sounds from every Japanese artillery positions, hitting enemy installations at Mount Samat. Such was the tremendous sound of cannons echoing and re-echoing in the valleys that the mountains themselves seemed to rock from ​their foundations. Japanese airplanes flew in several formations across the sky above, dropping bombs one after another in quick succession. The tremendous smoke of dust rose up with a thundering sound. In a moment Mount Samat had been enveloped in yellow smoke; and the smoke of dust rose up higher and higher until Mount Mariveles began to be slowly but completely veiled from our sight. Suddenly fire flashed among the smoke, thus setting some places ablaze. Various sounds of cannons were heard rumbling at the foremost front line which was enveloped by smoke. The sounds of machine-guns also mingled with them.
The infantry troops were to begin the offensive charge at three o’clock in the afternoon. Until then, all kinds of cannon shells and bombs were concentrated against the enemy positions at the foot of Mount Samat. It seemed as if the whole body of Mount Samat was a gigantic magazine which was ​exploding. I was so impressed looking from the observation post that my breath seemed to be checked by the tension of waiting for the imminent action to happen. From here I could not see anything but fire and smoke accompanied by sounds, but within the enveloping smoke with its rumbling sound there were many soldiers, their eyes aglitter with enthusiasm and anticipation, their hands tensely gripping their rifles with courageous determination to rush and capture the enemy positions as soon as the artillery firing was over. Such a sublime courage on the part of our soldiers in an instant caused my bosom to swell with inspiring and splendid morale.
It was three o’clock in the afternoon. The artillery shelling and bombing ceased. At last the offensive charge of the infantry troops was begun. It seemed to me that a great and vigorous war-cry was made in the yellow dust before me in the distance beyond. Tears of ​emotion were on the brink of flowing from my eyes.
At this time the Mikota Battalion was on the line along the Talisay River, and was poised to spring to the charge. The visual field before us was very narrow; moreover, there was a thick jungle, and we could not observe freely. The main forces of the battalion and regimental cannons, with the machine-guns, were placed into positions in front of us, and opened firing simultaneously. The distance between the enemy lines and ours was from one hundred and fifty to two hundred meters. The enemy forces, with the stretch of barbed wire entanglements and the side-defending firearms on the slopes, began a hurricane-like barrage. Our infantry troops sprang to the charge directly under the cannon shells.
Our artillery laid down a furious barrage for three minutes before our infantry troops leaped toward the enemy positions. Some of our soldiers fell under the enemy’s fire. But ​their comrades could not look back or stop to assist them. The cannon firing ceased. At that time the distance between the enemy and us was ten meters only. The soldiers, with glistening bayonets fixed to their guns, rushed with a battle-cry into the enemy’s thickly rising gun-smoke. Among the barbed wire entanglements our cannon shells broke through many openings. Our soldiers sprang in through them. But at that time two section leaders fell dead, the commander of the machine-gun corps was wounded, and many other soldiers were killed.
With such ferocity, the formidable enemy positions at the foot of Mount Samat were captured.
The main stream of Talisay River flows with several of its tributaries—Katmon, Tiawer, Abo Abo, etc.,—eastward into Manila Bay. The enemy forces, making these rivers their natural defensive fortifications, fired ​continuous belts of cannon shells across these waters; but these belts of cannon shells were broken by the furious and inexorable charge of our soldiers.
The enemy forces were in such a haste in making their retreat that they had no time to destroy the bridges across the Katmon River. In other words, we pursued them just so swiftly.
The Japanese soldiers began their advance in long columns along the main road between Bagac and Balanga, which were occupied by the enemy forces until yesterday. On the roadsides, scattered in disorder, were motorcars, cannons and ammunitions left by the enemy forces—and these were blemished here and there by corpses of enemy soldiers.
Our soldiers are climbing in succession the steep and almost perpendicular slopes of Mount Samat with their chests almost touching the ground. Until yesterday, they were merely looking up beyond the distance above ​at the two isolated trees which were standing erectly like ornamental hairpins on the summit. Thinking they would occupy that enemy position very soon, and impatient for action, they alternately rubbed their arms with their hands every day. After treading step by step the ash-like soil of the slopes, however, our soldiers placed Mount Samat under their feet.
Our soldiers, with horses, vehicles and tanks, are advancing in such great swarms that they are actually overflowing the heretofore deserted road between Bagac and Balanga, which had been cleared of enemy forces. Enemy cannon shells are raining incessantly. The enemy forces are cannonading the roads and bridges from their rear artillery positions somewhere beyond the other side of the mountains. Cannon shells fall and explode with thundering sounds here and there. Through such dangers, the armed traffic moves in extreme congestion along the military road.
Thus our soldiers stormed one after ​another into the side-ranges of Mount Samat where more formidable enemy positions were installed.
From among the trees in a jungle, I was observing the assault of Kapot Hill, which the enemy forces had converted into their last main position to check the advance of the Japanese forces, and from where they even attempted to make counter-attacks. As if it were commanding the other hills whose undulating ranges appeared like a series of waves, Kapot Hill rises up with its slopes almost in perpendicular planes. From unknown positions in the slopes of this hill came a flying screen of bullets of Maxim machine-guns and automatic rifles. Their sounds echoed among the jungles with stinging reverberations. The enemy cannon shells fell continuously in front of our positions.
I was told, on the other hand, that our artillery were attacking four enemy positions on Kapot Hill, and the attack would continue ​until half past ten, when the infantry troops would charge in. I wonder what is meant by the statement that “they are to charge in at the pre-scheduled time.” It is said that the soldiers will make the break-through at half past ten on this difficult terrain and under this rain-fall of cannon shells. The greatness of the responsibility and the unlimited valour of the soldiers will doubtlessly set all other outer adverse conditions at naught. Nevertheless, to reach the enemy positions, which are on the summit among the jungles and at the almost perpendicular slopes at Kapot Hill, is a feat replete with great difficulties. It is also said that jungle fighting literally devours soldiers. The figures of our soldiers disappear from our sight among the bamboo clumps. Now we catch a glimpse of them, then they vanish again from our sight. Some of the soldiers were shelled to death by the enemy’s artillery action at the moment when they came into view.
​It seemed that the troops had reached the foot of Kapot Hill. The commander of the unit was gazing forward and listening carefully. I also listened with such intensity that I thought my breathing would stop. After a while, we heard the piercing battle-cry of the charge on the left edge of Kapot Hill. Another battle-cry soon followed from the right side. The figures of our soldiers, with glistening bayonets fixed to their rifles, were seen going up Kapot Hill.
Motor-car roads to scale Kapot Hill have been constructed. The occupation of Kapot Hill accelerated very much the advance of our forces. There must have been adequate number of enemy forces holding up their positions here. There were scores of barracks made of bamboos and trees, and various kinds of papers with numberless rifles were left scattered all over the place. The enemy troops invariably leave rifles and other munitions behind them when they make their retreat.
​At this moment I saw for the first time three American prisoners of war. Heretofore, I had never seen American soldiers at the front. The deserted corpses and the prisoners of war which I had previously seen were all Filipinos. Those who fight at the front-most lines were invariably Filipino soldiers. American soldiers were always in the rear lines, where they merely supervised with extreme severity the activities of the troops in the advanced front lines. They themselves never made any effort to fight.
While the Filipino soldiers were suffering from scarcity of food, American soldiers ate to the full. As Kapot Hill was the position occupied by the main forces of the enemy, American soldiers were among the participants in the defense of this sector. When I found American prisoners of war I felt relieved for the first time. The significance of our fighting is so intensely realized that it is actually rendered solemn. I frequently saw Chinese ​prisoners of war at the battlefields in China, and everytime I could not suppress the feeling of bewilderment. The enemy soldiers, with skin of the same colour and with physiognomy similar to ours, bewilder us no little. It was the same case with the Filipino soldiers. Two of the American prisoners of war were privates, and the other one was a non-commissioned officer. When our soldiers pointed their fixed bayonets against them, the Americans immediately held up both of their hands and surrendered themselves. What slovenly soldiers they are! They are citizens of the haughty country which subjected our Father-land to irrational affronts, even to the point of disregarding vital matters concerning the very existence of our Mother-country. My heart swells with pride for our race. There is no opportunity better than this to feel clearly how we Japanese are distilling our indignation as a race into the fulfillment of our sublime mission.
​The enemy forces at last began to display their strange characteristic. There arose an incident which is very difficult for us Japanese soldiers to comprehend. On the night of April 5th, troops of the Yamada unit met with the enemy forces at a point south of Mount Samat. Although they could not ascertain it actually, it being night, it seemed nevertheless that there were large enemy forces behind them. The commander ordered his men to charge against the enemy positions. A tumultuous confusion, like that produced in a beehive when poked by a stick, suddenly arose from the enemy positions. At this time the commander ordered the interpreter to cry out in English: “If you lay down your weapons and surrender yourselves, your lives shall be spared.” The interpreter repeated the warning many times. Then, all of a sudden, there arose a simultaneous clapping of many hands among the enemy forces. The clapping did not stop for quite a while, during which ​interval there began to mingle with it the metallic sounds of their guns being cast away. Thus each and everyone of the enemy soldiers surrendered themselves. A small number of our soldiers began to disarm the enemy troops. The enemy force was a large corps composed of seven hundred and thirty-eight officers and men. At that time, it was told, there were six American field-officers, but they ran away into the darkness. On the next day, the commander of the regiment and other staff officers, some twenty odd of them in all, came to our side. They said that all of the soldiers under their command have deserted them; thus it became impossible for them to take any measures.
On some other day an old officer in tattered clothes was eating by the roadside, greedily biting at ration biscuits, as if he were a beggar. As he was not a man possessed of a noble presence, one of our soldiers took him at best for a non-commissioned officer; and as ​it seemed to him that the old officer had not had any food, he gave him the ration biscuits. But it was found after a while that he was Brigadier General Capinpin, a division commander. It was said that he was the commander of the 21st Division, commanding three regiments with a special corps, and seven thousand soldiers; but the staff officers, and even his own adjutant, ran away deserting him. He was, thus, left alone in the mountains. Leaving such an episode, the pursuing advance of the Japanese Forces was continued.
Mount Mariveles is a volcano. If we open a map we can easily understand that the lava which flowed out of its crater formed the peninsula of Bataan. All the roads on the mountain, with many irregular swellings and depressions, are of volcanic ashes from Mount Mariveles. It may rather be said to be a sea of ashes. When we walk onward, sprays of ashes rise up, and the soldiers’ feet sink into the road up to their ankles. The yellow dust ​rises up so thick and high that it is difficult to identify the soldiers before and behind us. On such a road, soldiers, horses and vehicles literally flow onward as if they were a roaring torrent which cannot be stopped.
The enemy forces obstinately resisted without retreating. Still our unit had to repeat many attacks with great difficulties. Moreover, many soldiers fell dead on the way of our advance, and decisive battles were repeated among the mountain fastnesses.
Chapter II.—Pursuing the Enemy
Our forces advanced on the trackless regions with much difficulty, but at the same time we must not forget the Takasago tribe who coöperated with us. Hundreds of them were detailed here in order to prepare a way for the advance through the jungles which were hampering not only our passage but also our vision. At first sight they appear to be of very slight physique and small stature, but actually they display a fierce cleverness in manipulating their tribal swords among the forests, under which it is very dark even in the daytime. They cut promptly their way through the thick woods, and lay out roads for the motor-cars through the trackless regions. They do not make any fuss at all even when the enemy’s cannon shells are falling around them. They seem to be extremely jovial in sharing the tribulations of this war ​with the Japanese forces. On moonlit nights, we hear the sorrowful melody of their tribal songs floating from where they are encamped. And in the daytime, they also sing loudly their tribal songs as they hew their way through the jungles under the enemy’s cannon shells.
The precipitous slopes of Mount Limay ascend from the formidable fortifications of Mount Samat. The mountains around these regions, with their undulations, swellings and depressions, appear as if they were full of furrows, and thus they are converted into the best shield of defense by the enemy forces. The mountain guns and the field guns, which are to be used in the battle to support the infantry troops, are carried up with great difficulty along these mountainous roads. The soldiers have to pull up the guns when they come to the steep slopes, yelling as they heave: “Yeisa! Yeisa!” The commissariat troops experience great difficulties in keeping up with and following the advancing troops. After ​consuming the provisions, which they have brought along with them at the beginning of the general assault, the vanguard troops sustain themselves only by drinking water. The clear mountain streams flowing everywhere among the valleys are the only things for which we were most thankful in this war sector.
When we walk along the ashy road, we become like dolls covered with yellow powder. Our eyes, noses, ears and mouths are all covered with dust, and when we spit our saliva is of yellow colour. Our soldiers are full of expectation for the next mountain stream. The water of every stream is so clear that we can see its bottom, and it flows with a delightful murmuring sound. We enjoy drinking the water. Filling our canteens with water, we continue our advance. But the cool water with which we filled our canteens ten minutes ago, becomes hot under the scorching heat of the sun. The colour of the soldiers’ skin is as ​brown as bronze. In the evening we cannot find the whereabouts of soldiers whose skin is so tanned. Without anything to eat for three or four days on end, our soldiers continue their advance and repeat fights.
On the height north of Limay, the enemy forces installed formidable fortifications. There were USAFFE regulars within these positions. On the early morning of April 7th, the Yamada Battalion met with these enemy regulars. Just at that time the mist was dense and, moreover, the enemy fortifications were in the eastern direction and the beam of the rising sun shone through the mist directly before us, hence we could not see anything at all in front of us. A furious and continuous sputtering of machine-gun bullets came from behind the mist. The communication line between us and the vanguard troops, which had advanced very far ahead, has been interrupted. Because of the thick jungles we have no alternative but to go through the road which ​is covered by the enemy guns. If, however, we advance through this road we shall be nothing but targets for the enemy’s cannons. No sooner orderlies are sent forward than they are shot down one by one. The enemy forces, taking advantage of the jungles and steep slopes, shoot our soldiers with accuracy. Orderly after orderly rushed into the mist, only to fall down and roll on the slopes after being shot by machine-gun bullets. Only after many trials was the communication line resumed.
The charge was at last carried out resolutely. The soldiers sprang into the enemy positions with a roaring battle-cry. But the irregularity of the terrain and the ferocity of the enemy’s firing prevented our soldiers from succeeding. The second charge was tried. This, however, also failed. Each time soldiers fell dead. All the commanding officers, without exception, were wounded. The commander of the company was at first a lieutenant, then a third lieutenant, and at last a sergeant. ​The commander of a section fell down, and a first class private assumed the command after stepping over the corpses of his comrades.
If they could not capture this enemy position, our base for pursuing the enemy would be lost. With gritted teeth, and gripping their rifles so hard to the point of seemingly breaking them, our soldiers carried out the third charge. A comrade who had fallen from wounds, cried out beneath our feet, “I pray that you will defeat the enemy!” Our troops sprang into the enemy positions with a fateful and roaring war-cry squeezed out from the innermost part of their throats. The enemy forces began to retreat, being overwhelmed by our tremendous and inexorable fighting­ morale. A furious hand-to-hand fighting was developed on the height of a hill above the jungles. Enemy soldiers fell dead one after another. Our soldiers, with glistening fixed bayonets, jumped into the enemy trench where American soldiers were firing Maxim machine-guns.
​There were heart-felt and heroic cries of “Banzai!” The eyes of every soldier were full of tears.
At this time the sound of a bugle playing the “Kimigayo,” the national anthem of Japan, was heard from somewhere. Lieutenant Hinoue, commander of our company who, unmindful of his wounds, had just leaped into the enemy positions with an unsheathed sword, turned his face backward to listen. Under a mango tree not so far from us, the bugler of our company, bleeding all over and approaching his last gasp of breath, was pressing the bugle to his lips. He was a superior private named Yakumatsu Mimura. When the company commander ran to the bugler, he was already dead, lying inert on his back but still grasping the bugle in position.
The bugler Mimura was shot through the throat immediately before the charge was made. Once he fell down, but thinking of his responsibility, this admirable soldier rallied ​up his whole being, stood up, and began to advance, pressing his left palm against the gaping wound which was bleeding profusely on his throat. He fell down many times because his strength was oozing away by degrees. The superior private Mimura, mustering up his last courage, sounded the call to charge in the same position where he had helplessly fallen down. The bugle sounded feeble, low, and out of tune, and it could only be heard in the intervals of the roaring of cannons. This intermittent sounding and ceasing of the bugle’s call to charge which was heard by the soldiers, who were carrying out resolutely the third charge, inspired them on to renewed and greater courage. Mustering up his strength repeatedly and endeavouring not be left behind by his comrades, the wounded bugler crawled up to the height. But his strength being already exhausted, he realized that his last moment was approaching. He sat up ceremoniously and played the “Kimigayo.”
​Thus the enemy positions on the northern height of Limay were pierced through.
The pursuing advance is resumed. Having fought yesterday, to walk today, and to fight tomorrow is the fate of soldiers. And the sublimity of soldiers who are determined to die for the sake of their Father-land is continuously being recorded yesterday, today and tomorrow on the pages of history. We cannot but say it is the sublimest and most magnificent advance. I said at the beginning that these battlefields are different from those of China, but the difference lies only in outward appearances. There is nothing new on the battlefield. The fundamental thing is only one. This is nothing but one spirit which has flowed through the frames of the Japanese people like a stream of beautiful river since the beginning of the history of our Mother-country.
Soldiers, horses and vehicles, swarmed onward as a roaring and irresistible torrent ​along the dust-smoke covered ashy road. Now and then, the mountains rumbled and quaked from their foundations.
All the enemy front lines from East to West—on the western coast: Moron and Bagac; in the middle: Mount Samat, Mount Mariveles and Mount Limay; on the eastern coast: Balanga, Mount Orion and Limay—are being compressed by degrees toward the southernmost point of Bataan Peninsula. An enemy artillery position, which most stubbornly played an active role, was installed behind Mount Orion. The other enemy artillery positions among the jungles could not easily be found even by our reconnaissance by airplane. On the way of our pursuing advance we saw deserted cannons scattered everywhere in the jungles and along the roadsides. There is also an evidence showing that cannons mounted on mighty and railed vehicles were fired, and constantly kept in motion to shift their positions.
​More than ten cannons, which hurled numberless shells against our positions and made comfortable wallowing craters for the carabaos, are turned upside down. There are many bomb craters everywhere. Our airplanes fly over the battlefield every day and drop bombs on the enemy positions, which are being moved backward by degrees.
The enemy front-lines have gradually fallen into confusion. The enemy forces have collapsed like an embankment which has given way to the forces of corrosion, in the face of the Japanese forces which have surged forward with more and more overflowing valour.
Our troops began to display a strange appearance. The Filipino soldiers who surrendered themselves in the front-lines on our way are mixed among our columns. There is nothing stranger than the relation between the American and the Filipino soldiers in the USAFFE. The Americans and Filipinos seem to be quite strangers to each other; and it ​seems that they can hardly be considered as belonging to a single military body. Filipino soldiers surrendered themselves one after another and, joining our columns, inveighed against the American soldiers and offered us their cooperation by asking to let them carry the munitions. At some place, more than ten Filipino soldiers tied up an American commander of the surveillance corps and brought him to us, prodding his head and poking his shoulders with their fists. They said that this fellow “forced and pressed us to the foremost front-lines,” and it seemed as if they could not control their indignation. The American, who was a fat captain with a large frame of body, had canned field rations with him. The Filipino soldiers confiscated them from him and, devouring the food in the face of the American commander as if they were avenging on him, they said: “Only American soldiers ate such things as these, while they gave us nothing.” Filipino soldiers suffered from ​shortage of cigarettes, but American soldiers had plenty. When they sold cigarettes to Filipinos, they charged one peso and twenty centavos for every fifteen centavos worth of cigarettes.
It was made clear day after day that the Filipino-American Forces were as mixtures of water and oil, and quite odd pairs of troops. The Filipino soldiers mingled among the Japanese troops who went southward in Bataan Peninsula for the purpose of annihilating the remnants of the enemy forces. Our soldiers advanced onward with laughter, saying, “This is an allied force of Japanese and Filipino soldiers.”
At nearly noon of the 9th of April, it was wonderfully quiet around our vicinity. Heretofore, from everywhere in the front-lines, in the middle, on the right or on the left, furious sounds of rifle bullets and cannon shells were heard, and cannon shells and stray bullets passed over our heads. At about one o’clock ​in the afternoon we halted on the top of the slopes which we had just ascended. Between the groves in front of us we could overlook the blue waters of Manila Bay and the island of Corregidor. Corregidor Island appeared very large as if it were actually there near us. In the vicinity there were many coconut trees which heretofore we did not see. The fact indicated that we were near the seashore. The island of Corregidor was haughtily lying its flat and narrow shape between the branches of the kapok trees.
I was walking with the feeling of wonder about the pervading too tranquil atmosphere around me. I came upon several hundred enemy soldiers who were gathered in a big circle under a mango tree. A large white flag, which was apparently improvised, was leaning against the mango tree. They were surrenderers. Half of them were Americans, and the rest were Filipinos. Some of the dirty, emaciated and haggard American soldiers seemed ​exhausted and were lying down helplessly. Some of the American soldiers were wounded in the head and left laid on stretchers. There was an American officer, maybe a field-officer, who was shaking the hand of a Japanese soldier and saying, “The war is over. We are very happy.”
Since that time crowds of surrenderers appeared before us from everywhere. From the mountain fastnesses, from behind the woods, from the roads between the bamboo clumps, they came in endless processions, waving improvised white flags. American soldiers came. Filipino soldiers came. They came out in such big numbers that they made me wonder where they were before. They made me feel as if they were gushing out. In fact, I thought that there were not such big numbers of American soldiers in this peninsula. Such a feeling may be due to the fact that we did not see so many American soldiers at the front-lines of Samat. Most of the American soldiers were perhaps ​in the rear lines. At last I began to feel curious as well as, strange to say, I was forced to feel indignant. Having so many troops as these, why did they not try to fight? Every American soldier is tall and of stalwart physique. Their faces are sunburnt as deep as the colour of tomatoes, and in their thickly bearded faces their eyes glitter piercingly. There are some American soldiers whose hairy and brawny arms are tattooed with various designs. These soldiers, having thrown down their arms, placing the steel helmets aslant on their heads and carefully embracing nothing but their canvas knapsacks, come feebly tottering in long processions.
Only one Japanese soldier guards two hundred or three hundred American soldiers. In some cases, only one soldier leads as many as five hundred American surrenderers. The height of the Japanese soldier reaches only up to the shoulders of the American soldiers. Moreover, his uniform is dirty and tattered. ​Under the conduct of such a Japanese soldier, American soldiers plod along the dusty road, with servile smiles for everybody. At some places many American soldiers pause by sitting in big groups under the scorching sunshine with their arms around their folded legs. Observing this sight, I realized once more the nobility of the Japanese soldier. As I said before, these American soldiers are citizens of the haughty country which in the past attempted to heap outrageous insults upon our Fatherland. Observing these crowds of tremendous number of surrenderers, I felt as if they were foul water flowing down from the sewerage of a country that has been formed upon impure foundations and have thus lost their racial pride. There is no other opportunity better than this to realize the sublimity of the Japanese soldiers and the pride of being a Japanese. Our soldiers laughingly said, “The American soldiers are perhaps saying to themselves, ‘Why were we defeated by such ​small soldiers?’ ” Such a magnanimity caused us to smile.
Moreover, it was more clearly realized that the USAFFE forces are composed of very strange soldiers. They do not move in accordance with the order of the highest commander, but the intermediate commanders surrender at their own will. Like the eastern as well as the western sector of Bataan Peninsula, each respectively made their own white flag for the purpose of surrendering. The general of the eastern front does not know about the activities of the western sector, and the commander of the western sector does not concern himself with the affairs of the eastern sector; and the troops in the whole Bataan Peninsula have nothing to do with the troops in Corregidor Island. There were several meetings with the officers bearing the flag of truce who appeared at various places; nevertheless, our forces continued the pursuing advance.
​At this time what shocked our hearts was the miserable plight of the refugees. Numberless refugees, who were chased by the fires which were caused by the hostilities, took refuge in the mountains of Bataan Peninsula. Groups of refugees came out one after another from their hiding places when the fires of Bataan had already subsided, resting in various places in the course of their exodus. The surrenderers and the refugees continued their endless processional march. Most of the refugees can scarcely walk any more. Not a few of them are already quite unable to walk, and are falling down along the roadsides. The old men, women and children are so pitiful to see and so emaciated that they had to exert great efforts even in talking. Having consumed their own provisions, it is not a rare case to find among them some who have not eaten anything even for one week. Moreover, many of them were suffering from malaria and dengue fever and they fell down in the ​mountains. Babies with deadly pale complexions were embraced by their mothers, but it was difficult to ascertain whether they are dead or alive. Their mothers’ breasts, of course, secrete no more milk. Some old men and women, lying down on stretchers improvised out of bags, are fed by members of their families with drop by drop of rice-gruel from spoons. Many refugees, having drawn water from various streams flowing in the valleys by glass bottles or empty tin cans, are drinking it preciously little by little. The feeble crying of children was heard alternately from among them. For some reason which we do not know, they carried various pieces of white cloth as if they were white flags. They did not withdraw these white flags until they learned that they were not necessary for non-combatants. Several hundreds of them here, and several thousands of them there—such refugees flocked listlessly with looks of apprehensions, and they paused without talking loudly.
​Seeing such refugees, the Japanese soldiers, forgetting that they may have nothing to eat for themselves after today, give up as much provisions as they individually carry to the refugees. Their field rations are distributed among the refugees little by little. The refugees begin to eat, at first shyly, and then greedily bite at what little food is given them. They distribute cigarettes. They give water from their canteens. The soldiers are left quite without provisions. Our soldiers pat the children on the head. At such times, they must be reminded of their homes.
The refugees were carried into this peninsula of Bataan from all over the Philippines. There are many from Manila, some are from Balanga, Samal and San Fernando. There are also some who came from as far as Northern Luzon like Tarlac and Damortis. They are wishing to return to their homes as soon as possible, but perhaps there will be no houses for them in the towns which were turned into ​ruins by the fires of war. In the places where the fires of war have subsided, the rehabilitation and construction of the New Philippines will be prosecuted, but it is the most urgent duty of Japan, who has a great mission, to devise a scheme with which to relieve warmly such sufferers. We have now no other means but to give up and leave to them as much provisions and affection as we have.
Mariveles is a port situated in the southernmost point of Bataan Peninsula. The coast is covered with groves of coconut trees, and nipa houses stand in rows; but the whole town, with the exception of churches, has been converted into ruins. The statue of Jose Rizal, which is invariably erected in every town of the Philippines, is standing boredly alone in the wilderness.
Standing up on the shore, we can see the island of Corregidor lying like a whale on the surface of the sea. The general assault began on the 3rd, and the occupation of Bataan ​Peninsula has been completed on the 11th of April.
But I am told that only Corregidor Island will stubbornly continue to resist a little more. Bombing and cannonading are concentrated upon Corregidor Island. Shells of anti-aircraft guns fired from Corregidor suddenly bloom like snow-white cotton flowers on a very clear blue sky. It is said by an officer of the flying corps that the anti-aircraft firing of this fortress, which is most furious, is shaped like the inverted water spray from a sprinkler.
Cannon shells are also hurled against us from Corregidor Island. It seems that Corregidor is now an isle of madness. Many American and Filipino soldiers, and refugees are crowded not only in the town of Mariveles but also in various places in Bataan Peninsula. Among the forests on the Real River there is a vast field hospital to accommodate American regulars. There are several thousands of sick ​and wounded regulars receiving treatment there. The American troops in Corregidor Island, however, seem to take no heed of this fact. The cannon shells from Corregidor fall upon the American soldiers across the North Channel of Manila Bay. They fall on the field hospital, and the wounded soldiers, who fought for the sake of Corregidor, are blasted into pieces with their sick-beds.
The capture of Bataan Peninsula has been completed. The remaining days of Corregidor will also be numbered. While I am writing this chronicle, the frantic cannon shells fired from Corregidor are falling in the woods nearby, and the thundering sound of their explosions are conveyed to my ears through the rumbling report of the grounds.
(On the Real River, the 16th of April, 1942)