The Wilmington morning star. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1909-1990, 1945-11-03
THIS is MY STORY
CHAPTER 20

: Nv GENERAL JONATHAN M.
WAINWRIGHT
Copyright, 1915, by King Feature
Syndicate, Inc. Reproduction i
whole or In part strictly Pre-
hibited.)
Our days at Tarlac Prison Cam,
wandered abysmally into August
1912. On the 7th Of that month w
received one Of our rare visit
from the Jap lieutenant in nomina
charge Of our camp. He con
fronted us during our evening rol
| call, accepted our salutes or bows
and, using Col. Robert Hoffman a.
an interpreter, told us that we
would leave Tarlac and be sem
either to Formosa or Japan proper
within the next few days.
/ walked alone through the little
prison yard that night, feeling
bluer than I had felt throughout
my captivity. I was positive that
Gen. Macarthur would lead men
back to the Philippines as soon as
he humanity could, and iberate us.
i had even put down a date of
liberation in my diary: ". by
December 81, 1943." That was Is
months away, at this time, but at
least it was a date and made
myself believe in it, though I had
no word from the outside world as
to the progress Of the war either in
Europe or the Pacific. But, as I
say, it was a date {. flimsy, but
something to hold to, something to
pin my faith to. One grasps at such
straws.
But now we had been told that
we were being sent to Formosa Or
Japan. We were being moved away
from the direction in which our
troops must one day come. Our
sentences were being heightened
indefinitely. I talked this over with
Brig. Gen. Lewis Beebe that night,
and he felt the same wave of f-us-
tration which had settled over me.
In our last days at Tarlac we
bought everything we could find
to buy, not knowing what kind of
condition we would face at our new
prison camp. Our haul consisted
mainly Of Filipino cigarets and
carabao soap.
Two days before we left Tarlac
we were warned that we could
take only such baggage as We
could carry. We packed as many
Of our needed effects as we could
in our bags, or wrapped them in
bundles, and put the meager ex.
cess in Col. Johnny Pugh's foot
locker, a community carry-all.
But the Japs have a characteris-
tic which prompts them to make
you prepare yourself for one thing
and then instruct you differently.
After we had carefully sorted and
packed our belongings, and were
certain from lifting them many
times that we would be able to
carry them( we were prepared, il
necessary, to abandon Pugh's
trunk we were told that we could
take as much as we wanted to take,
for trucks would be provided.
We were fed a very early break
fast on the morning of August H.,
1912, after which we were made to
clean and polish the barracks,
latrine and yard. At about a..
M, when this task was completed,
we were formed in a column of
tours, bu-dened down with more
than we had planned to carry on
our backs, and marched to the
Tarlac railroad station.
We were probably a pathetic.
looking lot; hardly Bataan
Death March but certainly a Pa
rade of the Vanquished. Because
Of the weights on our backs it was
impossible to present any military
bearing, any vestige Of our re-
naming dignity as officers and
men.
So we just slumped along the
road toward the station. And then
a remarkable thing happened to
us. Hauntingly, unbelievably, we
became aware that someone was
whistling whistling the 'Star
Spangled Banner"
I looed at the faces of the men
around me in the line Of march.
They too had heard, and were find
ing it a stirring incongruity in
this setting. But none was whist.
ling.
And then we discovered the
whistler. 1t was a ragged little