A Song For Lisa (2 page)

The first boat, with Jonathon on board, acted as guide to
coordinate the rendezvous point with the partisan fighters. The coastal region
was sparsely populated and intelligence experts did not indicate any large body
of enemy troops in the vicinity. Over the past three years, Jonathon had fought
through the central Pacific area and knew that one should not put too much
faith in intelligence information. It had a tendency to be wrong, regardless of
the source.

The closer they got to the shore the more worried Jonathon
became over the lack of response from the partisans. Captain Turner had assured
him that the navigator on the sub was one of the best. The azimuth Jonathon was
following to the shore seemed logical and correct, but he was increasingly
apprehensive. They were on course. Where were the guerrillas? The navy paddlers
guided the rafts into a small cove between two large rock formations and
allowed the rafts to ride onto a small sandy beach. The Rangers silently
evacuated the rafts and ran across the beach toward the thick vegetation
farther inland where they set up a perimeter defense.

Before leaving the submarine Jonathon had informed Captain
Turner that he was going to proceed with the mission with or without the
partisans. Most of the men were veterans of several operations involving
intelligence gathering and mapping of enemy installations. Without local
guerrilla assistance, Jonathon knew that the platoon was somewhat blind and
vulnerable. Unintentionally running into a heavy concentration of enemy troops
was a very real scenario that could blow their cover.

The Rangers waited at the transition line between the beach
and the jungle for several minutes listening to the sounds from the night. The
normal cacophony of the nocturnal creatures of the jungle filled the warm,
salty air. Nothing seemed unusual and Jonathon breathed a sigh of relief. So
far so good! He hunkered close to the ground and unfolded his map while a
soldier placed a poncho over his head to shield the light from his small
flashlight. He studied the contours of the area between the coast and the sugar
plantation where the prisoners were located. Laying his compass on the map he
oriented it with the compass and penciled in a thin line to the compound. He
memorized the azimuth of the line and checked his watch again. They had about
seven hours of darkness to cover nine miles to the prison camp.

Jonathon had studied the maps of the area and was confident
that they could cover the distance to the compound by dawn when they would lay
low to rest and observe the activities of the prison community. There were few
roads in the area which suited him. He preferred making the trip through the
jungle where chances of discovery were less likely.

Two flanking scouts were sent out about one hundred feet on
each side of the main body along the proposed line of travel. Lieutenant Jacobs
was assigned the job of securing the tail of the column while Jonathon took the
point position with the radioman at his side. He stood up to check the
surrounding darkness fingering the safety on his Thompson submachine. For the
first hour, he felt confident guiding the platoon by keeping the moon on his left
shoulder. Every half hour he would stop to check his azimuth and realign the
relative position of the moon which was constantly changing.

The tight column of Rangers cleared the heavier ground
vegetation and found themselves under the relatively open canopy of a coconut
plantation of widely spaced trees. Three men in dark clothing suddenly blocked
Jonathon’s inland movement. He clicked the safety on his Thompson and dropped
to his knees, prepared to defend himself.

“We’ve been expecting you
Snapdragon
,” announced a
deep voice in broken English.

“I’m relieved to make contact with you,” answered Jonathon
warily, his finger still on the trigger.

“Let us take a moment to review what is ahead of us,”
suggested the tallest of the shadowy men touching Jonathon on his shoulder.
“Please sit so that we can study our maps. We are relatively safe from
detection within this plantation. My father owns it. I’m Sergeant Hammer of the
Filipino Scouts. I assume that you are Lieutenant Wright.”

Jonathon breathed easier and kneeled beside the Filipino
sergeant. “I was beginning to worry that we had missed you, Sergeant Hammer.”

“I apologize that I did not direct you to us with a light,
but the Japanese have been more active lately with their shore patrols. We made
certain that you were not threatened by the patrols. I thought it would be
better for you to get away from the beach before we made contact,” explained
Sergeant Hammer, laying a map on the ground exactly like the one Jonathon had
folded in his pocket.

Sergeant Hammer outlined the original mission which was
being taken over by other Filipino units. As a matter of fact it was his group
of guerrilla fighters that had recommended the change in plans. He had fifteen
men with him to supplement the army platoon for the assault on the compound.
His map had been updated with a more accurate layout of the sugar plantation
where the women were being held prisoner.

Approximately thirty Japanese naval infantrymen were
guarding the rectangular compound, which consisted of a barn and a stable
completely enclosed by a barbed wire fence with elevated platforms at the four
corners. Two men and a machine gun were located on each platform day and night.
There was also a large two-story house immediately beside the horse stable. The
guards were housed in a lean-to attached to the house. Sergeant Hammer believed
that the house was being used by the officers. They had counted three officers
but there may be more.

“How long will it take us to get there, Sergeant?” asked
Jonathon.

“If we don’t have to detour for Japanese patrols, we can be
there by three o’clock in the morning. I have a small band of local partisans
watching the compound from a nearby hillside. Our immediate destination is that
overview. As soon as the sun comes up you can observe the camp and plan your
assault.”

“How many inmates are in the prison?” Jonathon asked.

“Our best estimate is about seventy-five,” replied Sergeant
Hammer.

“Seventy-five?” exclaimed Jonathon. “I was led to believe
that it would be a couple of dozen. We couldn’t get that many on the boat even
if we made it back before the invasion! Why did you recommend that this mission
be substituted for our previous one?”

“The family of one of my men brings supplies and vegetables
to the guard detachment. A short time ago the original Japanese army guards
were replaced by a fanatical Japanese naval infantry unit. They are much more
brutal and oppressive to the women inmates. The sick list and the death rate of
the inmates has doubled since the change in guards. Something else has been
taking place at an alarming rate,” Sergeant Hammer explained.

“What are you trying to say?”

“The inmates, young and old, are being beaten and raped by
members of the detachment. Every night we hear their cries and screams from our
overview position.”

“My God!” cried Jonathon. A few of the men heard what the
Filipino scout had told Jonathon. The grim message circulated from man to man
galvanizing them into an avenging fighting unit. Now they understood the
urgency of their mission.

“There’s something else, Lieutenant,” added Sergeant Hammer
in a strained voice. He stood up grasping his Springfield bolt action rifle
firmly. “The day that the Japanese detachment is informed of the American
invasion of Luzon, they will not hesitate to kill every one of the prisoners.
They want no live witnesses to the bestial behavior of the naval infantry.
Massacring prisoners, military as well as civilian, has been a trademark of the
Japanese throughout the Islands.”

“Lead the way, Sergeant Hammer,” ordered Jonathon with a
stern set to his jaw. “Let’s get Operation
Snapdragon
underway!”

Evening shadows descended on the small sugar cane plantation
known as Los Tomas. A cool sea breeze swept the surrounding jungle vegetation
depositing its moist cleansing aroma throughout the confines of the barn and
nearby horse stable. Occasionally the fetid stench of the prison compound was
displaced by the cool trade winds, but when the night air became still and the
winds shifted their direction, the dry putrid smells from the open latrine pits
were overpowering. Unwashed human bodies added another dimension to the
offensive foulness that permeated the two structures where the women prisoners
were detained. They spent each day in the field planting, cultivating, and
harvesting sugar cane and sugar beets. They were allowed a small area for the
production of vegetables, which never reached maturity before the starving
inmates consumed every stem as soon as it sprouted from the rich soil. Fear and
despair hung over the prison camp. Death was commonplace.

During the earlier months of the war the inmates were
treated poorly, but a strong element of hope permeated the atmosphere. The
Caucasian female prisoners were secretaries, office workers, nurses, domestic
workers, nannies, and school teachers. Many were married to consulate and
government officials and military officers. Immediately upon surrendering they
were separated from the men.

That first year, they were treated relatively well by the
Japanese commandant who followed the covenants of the Geneva Convention. Good
judgment was used in handling the female prisoners on the assumption that they
may be returned to the Allies in exchange for Japanese officials arrested in
Washington and London at the beginning of the war. Red Cross packages were
regularly distributed. The inmates ate as well as the compound guards. There
was a chance that they would be repatriated, but efforts to accomplish an
exchange were feeble and infrequent.

The Japanese guard replacement took place in late 1942 when
conditions began to deteriorate. Food became scarce even though the prisoners
had cultivated a large area for the production of vegetables. At first it was
passionately attended and met with the approval of the guard detachment. As hunger
became commonplace the garden patch became nothing but a bare piece of ground.
Even weeds were eaten as soon as they took root in the black soil.

A portion of the barn was converted into an infirmary where
the nurses did all they could to care for the sick and those injured by the
sadistic guards. The women persevered in the barbarous atmosphere and were
thankful that the camp commandant held a tight grip on the men under his
command. Physical cruelty, starvation, and denial of adequate medical treatment
was commonplace for the next two years. As bad as it was, it could have been
worse. The inmates were not used as sex objects by the Japanese. A few of the
women made suggestive overtures to some of the guards for special treatment.
The guards were tempted by the offers but they never followed through. The
commandant would have severely punished them. Each guard was mortally afraid of
raising his wrath against themselves.

The single symptom of prolonged malnutrition and starvation
most feared by the prisoners was blindness. Every woman was suffering to some
degree from the dreaded condition. Loss of vision and the ability to
distinguish images at a distance were symptoms that caused the most anxiety
among the prison population. The nurses tried to reassure them that normal
sight would be restored once they were back on normal diets.

Malaria, dysentery, acute dehydration, and pellagra were but
a few of the malignancies that proved to be fatal. The inmates were gaunt and
weary, and had given up any hope they once had of freedom or of outliving the
subhuman conditions imposed upon them. Their arms and legs were like straws on
scarecrows that farmers fashioned in their corn fields to keep away crows.
Their drawn, grotesque facial features were stretched tight against their
protruding bone structure. Few would recognize themselves if they looked in a
mirror.

Lisa Carter slept on a bamboo mat in the corner of the
stable. The delicate facial features she once had were lost in the
horror-filled deeply set eyes. Her auburn hair was unkempt and filthy like the
tattered dress she wore.

Lisa was a tireless and energetic worker in the fields. She
kept to herself as much as possible, but when help was needed by her fellow
prisoners she was among the first to respond to their needs. She had been a
civil service worker in the consulate general office in Manila when the war
began. The Japanese had captured the city before any of the civilian workers
could escape.

Lisa was among the first prisoners to be rounded up within
the city and deposited at the abandoned sugar plantation known as Los Tomas.
Over her shoulder she still carried a small pocketbook filled with personal
items and identification cards and some American currency. She was dressed in a
light blouse, skirt and blazer when the Japanese arrested her.

That first year the Red Cross supplied the inmates with
enough clothing so that they could change from the clothes they were wearing
when captured into something more suitable. Once the Red Cross source of
supplies was eliminated, their tan pants and shirts became tattered and torn.
The Japanese claimed not to have any replacement clothing for them. The main
source of foodstuffs, blankets, and clothing came to the inmates by way of the
local Filipino population who, almost on a daily basis, threw supplies over the
barbed wire enclosure. Soap, shoes, and feminine hygiene products became
precious possessions to those who were first to catch the items. Several ugly
fights developed among the inmates scrambling for the provisions. In time the
inmates were able to administer the distribution of the precious booty in a
fair and equitable system.

One of the most influential ladies in the prison was a woman
in her early sixties who called herself “Madame June.” It was obvious to all of
the inmates that she came from a family of influence and authority. She
voluntarily took it upon herself to organize the compound into small groups
with assigned leaders. Beyond that no one asked questions, for it could have
been dangerous for true identities to be known. The main purpose of such a
structure was to instill some semblance of order so that the supplies thrown to
them could be administered justly and those most in need could be cared for. It
was the “buddy system” on a larger scale than one on one.

Madame June had wisely selected individuals throughout the
barn and stable to act as representatives for the groups. That gave the inmates
some cohesion and identity with the group, allowing them to function as a
society instead of an uncontrollable mob. She spoke in a straightforward manner
with a slight southern drawl. The jewelry she brought with her to the compound
she exchanged with the commandant for medicines and personal hygiene supplies.
She became a beloved member of the prison community.

Small of stature with white hair, Madame June emanated
confidence and hope. She was primarily responsible for establishing a more
structured community within their squalid confinement. Her voice was soft and
she selected her words carefully so as to not be misunderstood. She was a born
leader, never demanding or giving orders. Things got done when she suggested
that this or that needed attention and should be taken care of. Most of the
inmates were eager to carry out her wishes. She was responsible for helping to
maintain their sanity and self-respect in the face of inhuman cruelty and
complete indifference to their suffering.

One of Madame June’s closest companions was the young woman
known as Lisa. Many speculated that they had known each other before the war
started, but neither gave any indication that that was the case. Pseudonyms
were common and readily accepted by the incarcerated community. Here it did not
make any difference who they had been. Each individual was accepted or rejected
on the basis of who and what they were within the enclosed barbed wire fence.
Within a short time after Madame June recognized the need for some discipline
within the camp, the emotionally stronger women began to assume positions of
leadership. It was a loose alliance that worked well.

Madame June worked tirelessly for the women, holding several
in her arms through long difficult nights when they were ill or distraught, and
in need of comfort.

Malaria was the most debilitating disease. The Japanese
claimed that they did not have any quinine, a medicine that gave relief to
patients suffering from the disease. One day late in June, 1942, Madame June
demanded that she be taken to the prison commandant to whom she argued
forcefully and defiantly for quinine and other medicines. She promised the
commandant that she would produce gold jewelry in exchange. He insolently told
her that he could take the gold if he wanted without producing the medical
supplies. Everyone who heard the discussion remembered the words Madame June spoke
in precise English which the commandant understood.

“You may kill me and torture me but I can promise that I
will never tell you where the jewelry is hidden. You produce the medicine and
I’ll produce the payment. Take it or leave it. Don’t misunderstand what I’m
telling you, Mr. Commandant. You and your henchmen will never be able to break
me. You might kill me, but I’ve already lived a full life and am prepared to
die. The decision is yours.”

The commandant was furious to be backed so neatly into a corner
by an old lady weighing no more than one hundred and ten pounds. He carefully
scrutinized Madame June and Lisa, who had accompanied her to the main
plantation house. He was anything but stupid and believed that the elderly
matron meant what she said. He curtly dismissed them. The next day the front
gates were opened and two carts piled with boxes were wheeled into the
compound. The soldiers asked for Madame June. She instructed the women to take
the boxes to the small infirmary in a corner of the barn. The guards were
reluctant to release the carts until Madame June and Lisa walked to the open
gate behind the carts and motioned to the guards. She held a gold necklace and
two gold rings in her hand offering them to the guards. Their demeanor
immediately changed. They released the cart and grabbed the jewelry without a
word. The gate was closed behind them in their haste to bring the fortune in
gold to their superior. That had been a good period for the inmates. Madame
June had won a moral victory.

During the second year of the women’s internment, two B-26
bombers flew over the compound a few feet above the barn roof maintaining their
position one behind the other. As they approached the fence enclosure their
bomb bay doors began to discharge thousands of small packages from the
cavernous fuselages. The boxes rained upon the compound and buildings covering
the ground several layers thick in places. The pilot’s aim was precise, most of
their load fell within the prison complex. Loud cheers erupted from the inmates
as they scrambled for the boxes and waved at the screaming planes overhead. As
soon as the planes were empty, they made a turn and retraced their path over
the compound again with their left wings tilted straight down so that the
inmates could get a good look at the pilots, as they rocked their wings back
and forth in salute.

It was a thrilling experience for every member of the
prison. The presence of American bombers meant that American forces were
approaching the Philippine Islands. That fact energized the lagging hopes and
fears of being isolated from the rest of the world. Familiar American products
also rekindled pride in who they were. The small packages sustained their
belief in eventual deliverance from their unspeakable hell.

The packages were called “Victory Packs.” They were wrapped
in paper containing the American and Filipino flags and a line made famous by
General Douglas MacArthur: “I Shall Return.” They contained American
cigarettes, Chesterfield, Lucky Strikes, Philip Morris, or Kools. The candy
portion was either Hershey chocolate bars, Skybars, or Mounds, with generous
amounts of Tootsie-Rolls, and chewing gum (Juicy-Fruit, Doublemint or
Teaberry). The compact package also contained a pencil with a paper pad, and
something that the women treasured—a small sewing kit with extra thread. The
packages that fell outside of the fence were also eagerly sought by the
Japanese guard detachment. They scrambled and fought for them the same as the
inmates.

The Victory Packs were the brainchild of General MacArthur’s
Army staff. The idea came from his Intelligence chief, Major General Charles
Willoughby. The packs helped keep the flame of liberty and hope alive. Their
value as a morale booster was far greater than the cost of assembling small tokens
from a free nation. They were a piece of Americana representing the might and
will of a country and its people who had not forgotten the plight of the
Filipinos. Packages that fell into the hands of the enemy were ominous
reminders that their days of control in the Philippines were limited.

Lisa and Madame June had surrendered to the Japanese at the
Manila Library. Madame June was in the reading room when the enemy soldiers
surrounded the building and began collecting occupants as they went from room
to room. Lisa was in the archival portion of the library researching records of
past census surveys. The Japanese immediately dismissed all of the native
Filipinos and retained the Americans and other nationalities for incarceration
in holding camps located throughout the occupied area of the islands.

The civilian males were separated from the children and
women at the train station in Manila. The men were considered the same as
military prisoners of war and were marched off to prisons in the city proper.
The women and older children were loaded on empty freight cars which
transported them a hundred and fifty miles north of Manila near the small town
of Bagio. They were then forced to walk five miles over sugar cane fields to a
deserted plantation where Japanese soldiers were diligently building a wire
fence around the outbuildings of the plantation. The women were told that they
were temporarily being detained until reparation could be arranged through the
International Red Cross and the offices of neutral countries such as
Switzerland and Sweden. The Japanese commandant spoke excellent English and
even apologized for the primitive living conditions at the camp. At the time of
Lisa and Madame June’s arrival, there were about fifty women and teen-aged
children already being held captive at the plantation.