Evening star., 1945-11-07
Gen. Woinwrieht's Own Story:
Colonel Who Protests Lack Of Food Is Beaten
Three Times; Carols Are Sung at Christmas
(Thirty-second of a Series.)
BY GEN. JONATHAN M.
WAINWRIGHT.


WAINWRIGHT.
We made point of having the
best Christmas we could scrape to.
gether at Karenko Prison Camp
in 1912. Our spirits were so low al
that time of the year we knew we
must find some kind of spiritual
lift or abandon all hope. Christmas
of 1912 thus became more than q
holiday; it became a hook on which
to hang our very lives. y
Col. William F.. Braley had some
how managed to save his violin from
the Japs. His playing often was a
great solace to us in the barracks
and, fine musician that he was, he
formed and became leader of a good
choir made up of the prisoners.
We had no song books but, hap
PLY, several officers remembered the
words of some of the more familiar
Christmas carols, and these the
choir religiously practiced in the
days leading up to December Is.
We all wanted to give the ap-
pearance of being carefree on
Christmas eve. I was still rocky
from couple of beatings and the
beri beri, but I got up and joined
In the decorating of our barracks
and the swapping of small presents,
after we had had our Christmas eve
supper of the rice and the hot water
the Japs called soup.
Merry Christmas Sign.
We cut up old cigarette boxes and
anything else we could find that was
colored and formed the bits into a
sign reading Merry Christmas. ''
Some of the boys brought in bit of
greenery from the truck garden in
which we were working and spread
these about in the manner of holly.
When we had done all there was
to do at giving the barracks a holi-
day air, we sat down to admire it
pathetic as we knew it was-and
tried to talk of the Christmases we
had known without choking UP.
Then the choir began to sing as
robustly as their conditions per-
mitted. They started in the far end
of the barracks, singing a carol or
two for each squad. I went into nv
room and sat down on my cot. l
could hear their voices coming
closer.
At last they were outside my door
and. after a pause, they began to
sing an old favorite of mine, "Hark,
the Herald Angels Sing" I could
not help putting my head in my
hands. I was SO glad they could
not see me.
Something came over the Japs on
Christmas afternoon. To our wonder
and surprise. they gave us 30 ducks.
Tor what was now more than 400
prisoners, and each of us was given
an apple. The ducks went into our
soup and carefully, scientifically
Maj. Gens George F. Moore saw to
1T that each man in our squad got
his proper length of silver. We ate
Christmas dinner together. were
grateful for it, and hoped that it
would mark turning point in our
treatment.
Still Made to Work.
But there was no change. We con-
tinued to be forced to work to get
an occasional extra spoon of rice,
and we weighed that extra nourish-
ment against the strength we were
spending. The beatings continued
usually at the latrine, where there
was always a line-so aggravated
had become our kidney conditions.
). I had been hungry night and day
since the start of the war a year
before. Food became mania with
all OF us. We woke up each morn
ing with hunger paramount in our
minds, ate our rice and hot water
and were as hungry after it was
finished as before, yearned for food
through the long day, and went to
sleep to dream of food. Every time
during the night when we would
have to go to the latrine-and risk
. beating-We awoke to the realiza-
ton that we were starving; that we
must find nourishment.
Our bodies had long since con-
sumed all the human fats stored
up by nature to provide for this
very contingency. Our energies were
now consuming the very muscular
tissues of our bodies. Our weekly
baths in the common bathing tank
were shocking spectacles, for only
the mass nakedness of our men
brought home to each of us our ter
rible state.
Our labors had even used up the
inner muscle of our buttocks. The
skin Of our buttocks just hung down
the backs Of our skeletonized legs
like deep pockets. But we were
beyond all modification over our
appearance. There was nothing in
our mind except food. The lush
banquets we dreamed of at night
only made the awakening to reality
that much worse.
Ate Viscera of Cattle.
/ Early in January, 1943, we re-
ceived something, from our captors
which under any other circumstance
would have been a revolving gift.
The Japs maintained slaughter
house near Karenko, and a ship
'ment of cattle had been sent there
to be turned into some sort of
canned meat for the Jap army.
This day in question we received
quantity of animal stomachs, in
testines and lungs. We ate this
nauseating viscera greedily, hoping
not so much to build up our strength
but simply to avoid passing out
completely.
We craved animal protein so
imadly that after every rain many
tof our members would search the
ground for snails. The snails which
did show themselves were far re-
moved from the escargot which
French chefs can prepare SO taste
fully. They were a large, tough
mussel, dreadful to taste. But those
who found them considered them
selves lucky and hobbled quickly
over to the kitchen to boil them in
hot water and wolf them.
Y Our rice that winter contained
white worm about an inch long
with a black head. There were
dozens of these worms in every cup.
AT first we carefully took them out
of the rice with our chopsticks and
put them to one side.