Bataan Survivor: A POW's Account of Japanese Captivity in World War II
320
Bataan Survivor: A POW's Account of Japanese Captivity in World War II
320eBook
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Overview
A forgotten account, written in the immediate aftermath of World War II, which vividly portrays the valor, sacrifice, suffering, and liberation of the defenders of Bataan and Corregidor through the eyes of one survivor.
The personal memoir of Colonel David L. Hardee, first drafted at sea from April-May 1945 following his liberation from Japanese captivity, is a thorough treatment of his time in the Philippines. A career infantry officer, Hardee fought during the Battle of Bataan as executive officer of the Provisional Air Corps Regiment. Captured in April 1942 after the American surrender on Bataan, Hardee survived the Bataan Death March and proceeded to endure a series of squalid prison camps. A debilitating hernia left Hardee too ill to travel to Japan in 1944, making him one of the few lieutenant colonels to remain in the Philippines and subsequently survive the war. As a primary account written almost immediately after his liberation, Hardee’s memoir is fresh, vivid, and devoid of decades of faded memories or contemporary influences associated with memoirs written years after an experience. This once-forgotten memoir has been carefully edited, illustrated and annotated to unlock the true depths of Hardee’s experience as a soldier, prisoner, and liberated survivor of the Pacific War.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780826273598 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | University of Missouri Press |
| Publication date: | 12/01/2017 |
| Series: | American Military Experience , #1 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 320 |
| File size: | 8 MB |
About the Author
Frank A. Blazich, Jr., a curator of modern military history at the Smithsonian Institution's National Museum of American History and is a resident of Washington, D.C.
Full bio: A native of Raleigh, North Carolina, Frank Blazich, Jr. specializes in the American military experience in the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. A veteran of the U.S. Air Force, he holds a doctorate in modern American history from The Ohio State University. In his graduate years he published a variety of book reviews, referred articles and essays on twentieth century civil defense or military-related topics. Following his doctoral studies, Frank served as the historian at the U.S. Navy Seabee Museum in Port Hueneme, California before moving to Washington, D.C. to serve as a historian in the History and Archives Division of Naval History and Heritage Command. As historian at the Seabee Museum, he helped storyboard and script several exhibits, notably “Underwater Construction Teams: We Build, We Fight, We Dive the World Over” (July 2014), “The Century Before Seabees: The Bureau of Yards and Docks, 1842–1942” (April 2014), “From Civilian to Seabee: Seabee Training in World War II” and “Seabees in the Atlantic Theater” (both June 2014). In broader support to the U.S. Navy, Frank developed five, six-panel portable displays for nationwide use to celebrate African Americans, Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders, Women, Hispanic Americans, and Native Americans and Native Alaskans throughout the calendar year. While working as a research and writing historian at the Washington Navy Yard, he researched and published the first detailed chronology of the U.S. Navy in World War I and an article in the Canadian journal The Northern Mariner/Le marin du nord examining the American Naval Planning Section London and its plans for operations in the Adriatic. His first edited book, Bataan Survivor: A POW’s Account of Japanese Captivity in World War II, was released in February 2017 by the University of Missouri Press.
From his undergraduate studies to the present, Frank has cultivated a vibrant curiosity in the interactions between war and society, notably the interaction and evolution of military and public institutions. As the son of a disabled Vietnam combat veteran, university professor, and avid collector of military artifacts, Frank has grown up surrounded by research pertaining to material objects, education, and research-based writing. While still orienting his research interests at NMAH, his inclinations are to work in the areas of twenty-century military technology, civil-military relations, and home front defense. In his spare time, Frank is a full colonel in the all-volunteer Civil Air Patrol (CAP), serving as the organization’s National Historian. In this capacity he oversees all aspects of the corporation’s historical program. Within the past few years, he provided key assistance in the 2014 CAP Congressional Gold Medal and this past year’s seventy-fifth anniversary celebrations, with historical displays arranged at the Pentagon, National Museum of the U.S. Air Force, National Museum of the U.S. Navy and at air shows, airports, local and regional museums nationwide.
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
The War Is On
A colonel of anti-aircraft artillery was shaking me violently by the shoulder.
"Wake up! Wake up! You work at General MacArthur's headquarters, don't you? They have been on the alert and working since 3:00 a.m. The war is on."
"Don't try to kid me," I drawled, rubbing my eyes, "that won't come until next April."
He held the early edition of the Manila Bulletin before me as I sat up in bed.
"I'm not trying to kid you."
"HONULULU BOMBED" the boxcar headlines flared.
I was shocked and dazed.
I called Lieutenant Wermuth, later to be called the "One Man Army of Bataan," who was sleeping in the next room and began dressing. As I dressed, rushed through breakfast and hurried to headquarters, my mind surged with a summary of recent events.
First my thoughts rushed back overseas to my wife and two daughters, mother, brothers and their families, the group of the dearest ones in the world who had bid me good bye at the station in Raleigh, North Carolina on October 24, 1941 as I began my long and second journey to Manila.
My thoughts seemed to dwell on my youngest daughter Mary, now nine, who was born at Sternberg General Hospital when we were living in this very house. This was just a couple of months before I grabbed my field equipment and took off with the 31st Infantry to help the marines protect American life and property in the beleaguered international city of Shanghai. The Japs, yes, it was always the Japs, fomenting and stirring up trouble in the Orient.
A year previous (1931), I had traveled a good deal in China and Japan, visited their home land while they were invading Manchuria and trying to close the door we had long before declared and were not trying by peaceful means to keep open.
Their designs were so well known, our lack of preparedness so vivid, and our weakness and general plans for the defense of the Philippines so familiar to me that I said to my wife, Elizabeth, on the drive to the station: "You know, dear, I have never missed being in the thick of it. If war breaks, it will break in the Orient first, and you can prepare to have communications broken for at least two years. I have made my allotments to the family for a period of three years."
The guess was not far astray.
Reminiscences of my recent temporary promotion to lieutenant colonel, immediately followed by secret orders to Manila from Camp Wheeler, Georgia, passed in a quick panorama through my mind. The fact that General MacArthur was training ten Philippine divisions and needed help brought fond recollections of the hurried trip my old friend, Colonel Louis Hutson, and I had made from Macon, Georgia across the continent to San Francisco where we were to join others assigned to this undertaking.
The voyage of the President Coolidge was without incident. The great luxury liner of the Pacific, new queen of the President Line, formerly the Dollar Line, left Pier 45, San Francisco at noon, November 1, 1941, and docked at Pier 7, Manila, on November 20, 1941. My stateroom, while not luxurious, contained two iron beds with good inner spring mattresses and a couch similarly equipped; a comfortably sized room with private bath accommodating three officers. The entire boat had been leased for the trip and carried only military personnel and equipment. One brigadier general, Maxon S. Lough; three colonels, Bradford G. Chynoweth, Charles L. Steel, and Joseph P. Vachon; 46 lieutenant colonels; about ten majors; over 200 junior officers; and about 2,000 enlisted men constituted the human cargo. The materials varied from small QM supply items to complete rolling photographic laboratories.
We were just passing under the Golden Gate Bridge when two of my former reserve officers approached me saying there were a couple of nurses aboard who wanted to know me. I turned around on the deck and met Miss Evelyn B. Whitlow from Leasburg, North Carolina and Nancy J. Gillahan from Danville, Tennessee. Colonel Hutson and I had been looking for them ever since we left Chattanooga as Louis had heard they were leaving Chattanooga at the same time we left. They, however, had been routed through Texas instead of Chicago.
They were pleasant young ladies, and asked me to look after them as I would daughters. I assumed the responsibility that proved a pleasant one. Lieutenant Colonel Irving Compton joined us and the dinner gong sounded. We arranged so us four would be seated together for meals for the voyage. They made our meal hours very pleasant. The menus were elaborate with many dishes and entrées to choose from and we had many a joke initiating them, and more often ourselves to new dishes and old ones under new names.
The officer personnel being few, we were taken care of at two sittings in the tourist dining room with first class meals and service, while the enlisted men ate from their mess kits in the large first class dining room. The fare was sumptuous, rating with any fine hotel anywhere. The trip was pleasant except for the many homesick officers aboard. Most of them had not been away from their families, and many were just parting with their loved ones for the first time since either marriage or World War I. My four month separation while at Camp Wheeler provided a great help to me in this respect, and I remained on the whole as cheerful as usual. Coming events cast their shadows and all felt that we were going into war and many aboard would never see their native land and loved ones again. None of us felt that we would have a good time for two years at the very pleasant task of training the Philippine Army.
The stay at Honolulu was short and pleasant. We arrived and went ashore about 8:30 or 9:00 a.m. and sailed about 4:00 p.m. the same day. I took an auto trip about half-way around the island of Oahu with three other officers, stopping for lunch at the Post Exchange lunch room at Schofield Barracks.
When we cleared the harbor we were closely followed by the army transport Hugh L. Scott also loaded with troops and war materials. An escort composed of the cruiser USS Louisville and two sub chasers accompanied us. This also brought a calm realization that trouble was rampant in the world and that we might not be long at peace. The Scott went into the harbor at Guam to unload some cargo. The Coolidge lay out to sea and we were not allowed an opportunity to see the island. I had seen it before, having visited relatives there in 1929. The wait was short, from breakfast until 3:00 p.m., and then we were on our way again.
To the sea-worn traveler the San Bernardino Straits is a welcome sight with its blue waters and its green shores glistening in a tropical sunshine. It looked particularly beautiful as we looked upon the shore of Luzon and of many small islands in the Sibuyan Sea in which we cruised for the best part of a day. We were soon to be fighting over these hills and deep jungles.
The Coolidge docked at Pier 7, known as the Million Dollar Pier, the largest one in the world, at 10:00 a.m. on November 20. General MacArthur had recently taken over the entire use of the pier for military purposes and it was a beehive of activity. Everyone was in a bustle with thousands of people and cars all moving to and fro, but few military personnel were apparent. All were at their posts, and all at work. There were no brass bands, no fanfare of welcoming music. The old transport holiday had gone with the wind.
Soon I spotted Lucy, my sister, Mrs. Carl E. Olsen of Manila, and the children Roberta and Esten, coming along the second-story balcony of the pier and the hellos and throwing of kisses began.
"Where is Carl?" I asked.
"Playing golf, but he will be here by the time you get ashore."
"Why is he playing golf this time of day?"
"It's a holiday."
"What holiday?"
"Thanksgiving, and I have a big turkey dinner for you tonight."
After the customary drinks and greetings of old friends at the Army and Navy Club, we drove out to Lucy's home for lunch, and then P.O., their driver, carried me to Fort McKinley where we were quartered for a few days awaiting our assignments and getting over our sea legs. P.O. returned for me in the V12 Lincoln-Zephyr about 4:00 p.m. after I had gotten unpacked and settled for the night. The Thanksgiving dinner was very enjoyable; the guests included about a dozen people, some of whom were old acquaintances of the American colony.
Next day I visited the headquarters of the United States Army Forces in the Far East (USAFFE) to call on General MacArthur. I asked his aide to tell the general I had just arrived on the Coolidge and had a couple of messages from people in Congress, one from his first cousin, and that I would like about five minutes of his time to deliver them.
"The general is a very important man and is very busy. He cannot see you," was his quick protective retort.
"I expected you to say that. Please get up and go tell him what I have just said." This was not a bold adventure for I had known the aide for a number of years.
He came back saying that there had been a break in the general's appointments and he would see me in ten minutes. General MacArthur was extremely courteous and congenial, leaving his desk and sitting beside me on a large office settee. I conveyed the messages of Senator Robert R. Reynolds, my senator from North Carolina, who was the number two man on the Senate Military Affairs Committee, and of an old friend and former comrade in arms, Representative Charles I. Faddis of the House Committee on Military Affairs. Both messages were to the effect that whatever came they had perfect confidence and would back his judgments and actions.
He told me the War Department had some 30 to 40 B-17 bombers on the way, and when they arrived Formosa would be in our laps. They never arrived and how different was the story. We then talked of his first cousin Elizabeth Hardy Jones, who was preparing a book on the Hardy-Hardee family that would include both of us. This struck another responsive chord.
"When this comes out we will be so proud of ourselves, we won't know who we are."
I did not want to take up too much time so I excused myself and retired. He was not only congenial but folksy, much different from the way I had pictured him when I first saw him at Fort McKinley, Philippines in 1930 taking a final review when he was leaving as Philippine Department commander to take the position as Chief of Staff of the U.S. Army. Then I adjudged him to be stern and aloof. All of my personal contacts proved him to be the opposite.
At his headquarters I found many old friends who gathered around to greet me: Paul Stivers, Lewis Beebe, Dick Marshall, Charles Willoughby, LeGrande Diller and others with whom I had served at Benning and elsewhere. I was told by Colonel Stivers, the G-1 personnel officer, to inform the officers at McKinley that assignments would not be out for a few days and to do all necessary shopping in Manila, as many would go to the provinces and to distant islands.
About four days after arrival, I was ordered to report to Colonel Stivers at USAFFE, bringing all my baggage. The headquarters were located at No. 1 Victoria, the enlarged set of quarters formerly occupied by Colonel Gasser and other commanders of the 31st Infantry. Upon arrival at USAFFE, I was told that many projects would be opened when the next convoy came in. It was due about December 17th, in about two weeks. These projects did not materialize on account of the outbreak of hostilities on December 8, 1941.
I was given several jobs to occupy my time pending this new project assignment. The first was to assign office space to the sections as the headquarters building was expanded to include the Santa Lucia Barracks next door. My quarters were in the old Spanish quarters in the Cuartel de Espana facing on the General Luna. We had a number of officers in each set of quarters, and each ran a separate mess with good Filipino servants.
The first war assignment was a directive from Colonel Richard J. Marshall, then deputy chief of staff, to form a headquarters detachment and procure everything needed to take the headquarters into the field. This meant to organize a headquarters detachment, train it, and break in the officers to serve as headquarters commandants of the advanced and rear sections of the command post.
I called for two officers to serve in these positions. Lieutenants Short and Weil reported during the day. I gave them a list of material and personnel they were to procure and they set to the task at once. The first things organized and set up were a motor pool and a kitchen section, and all officers were issued bedding rolls, arms, and equipment.
I shall not soon forget the engineer detachment that came in from Fort McKinley to join us: swarthy, rugged Philippine Scouts of many years service, tanned by the tropical sun, handy with bolos, infantry weapons, camouflage, and tools. These were the men to dig in and set up our command posts, as well as conceal and protect them. All did good work, accomplished things quickly, and we soon had USAFFE ready to load on wheels and roll on into the field.
Colonels Charles L. Steel and Irvin E. Doane of the 31st Infantry (U.S.) were living in bachelor quarters in the large wooden field officer sets on the General Luna. They soon learned that I was attached to the 31st Infantry (U.S.) for assignment to quarters and invited me to come and live with them. Their mess had been in operation for some time with excellent servants. Both these officers were in the field most of the time and they wanted the house with the servants kept intact.
Here I lived in a room with my old friend, Colonel Warren J. Clear, who had been doing military intelligence work in India and Burma. He was en route to the United States, after completing a long period of fine work in observation in those countries. He had been caught in Manila at the outbreak of the war while awaiting the arrival of some final documents from India. He had observed and had a great deal of first-hand information on the Japanese fighting methods and we became constant companions in off-duty hours, later taking Colonels Francis Wilson and Roy Hilton into the house with us.
Baguio and Clark Field were first hit by the Jap bombers and we felt that Manila was next on their list. We prepared foxholes in the Luneta adjacent to our quarters. They were the first prepared in the beautiful parks of the city. Many others were prepared after the first bombings and the parks resembled plowed fields before our forces evacuated the city.
I still have a mental picture of Clear and myself when the air raid sirens first warned of the approach of hostile airplanes. It was around noon and we abandoned our well-spread luncheon table, and after warning the servants to do likewise, sought the open park of the Luneta where we could observe the approach of the planes and take cover if necessary.
Upon reaching the center of the Luneta we looked for the approaching enemy planes; the first, but by no means the last, I was to see in the war. We spotted three formations of 24 each, all heavy bombers, glistening in the sun at from about 25 to 27,000 feet altitude. As they approached from the north, our anti-aircraft artillery that had just taken position in the sunken gardens outside the walled city opened fire. It was the first "fireworks" I saw in the war and the first rounds the men of the battalion had ever fired in action. With their short fuses they could not reach the altitude of the hostile formations. We felt helpless. But practice was to make perfect, and in a short time afterwards they were exploding their shells in the midst of and breaking hostile formations, and taking their toll of the enemy.
At the approach of the enemy formation Filipinos who had sought the open spaces of the Luneta in the thousands continued to run to and fro and cluster in large groups under the trees, thus presenting the enemy with the best possible targets. Colonel Clear and I yelled ourselves hoarse trying to get them to scatter out, throw themselves flat on the ground and lie still, but they did not understand as they were to later. Experience is a hard school, and we humans too often have to learn the hard way. We took cover in our shallow foxholes, but the planes went on directly over us and unloaded their deadly cargo on the Cavite Naval Base installations and Nichols Field. Several dog fights were in evidence as our depleted fighters challenged the bombers and their accompanying fighters.
Before the fight ceased, one of the enemy strafers turned our way and one of their .50 caliber machine gun bullets struck Clear on the back of his hand. Fortunately it was spent and did little more than burn, bruise, break the skin and draw blood. It was the first wound I knew of in the city of Manila, at least the first for military personnel. However, this was only the beginning, as the Japs laid on the city and its environs steadily each day, usually striking around noon.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Bataan Survivor"
by .
Copyright © 2016 The Curators of the University of Missouri.
Excerpted by permission of University of Missouri Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
ForewordEditor’s Preface
List of Acronyms
Editor’s Introduction
Section I: Fighting on Bataan
1. The War is On
2. The Billion Dollar Christmas Tree
3. Many Pilots and No Airplanes
4. The Last Days in Bataan
5. The Death March
Section II: Death’s Prison Camps
6. Camp O’Donnell
7. Cabanatuan
8. More Prison Life at Cabanatuan
9. En route to Dapecol
Section III: Survival on Mindanao
10. Life at Dapecol
11. A Hernia Saved My Life
12. More Life at Dapecol
13. Final Days at Dapecol
14. A Hellship Trip to Bilibid
Section IV: Liberation and Return
15. Manila and Bilibid
16. Life at Bilibid
17. Final Days of Imprisonment
18. Liberation
19. Homeward Bound
Appendix. Medal Citations
Bibliography