My Hitch in Hell Page 7
All the men in our company returned to the bivouac area after the bombing stopped that fateful morning. Upon reflection, at last we fully appreciated the true meaning and the consequences of President Roosevelt’s fireside chat that we had heard in March while preparing for an encounter with the Japanese. We had been sitting in our tanks, listening to a shortwave broadcast directly from the States, as President Roosevelt began his talk. He first explained exactly where the Philippine Islands were located and then told his listeners that Singapore and all of the Asian islands close to Japan were under enemy rule. President Roosevelt then said, “Take out your maps; look at the problem facing our forces in the Far East. In every war there must be some sacrifices made of a few for the benefit of the war effort at large.” He went on to explain that what would appear to be a decision that would place our fighting forces in jeopardy was not his intent. He then said, “But in this war, as you can see from the location of the Japanese forces, getting supplies and reinforcements to the Philippines is next to impossible.”
On that day in March, we had understood that the sacrifice he was referring to meant losing the war in the Philippines for the benefit of the total offensive. In spite of realizing who the sacrificial lambs would be and knowing that we were waging a losing battle, we continued to defend the islands and to face an end that would mean either death on the battlefield or capture by the Japanese.
The fighting forces on Bataan had followed General King’s orders. We completely destroyed all of our arms, ammunition, equipment, and even some of the money our company had on hand for payroll. In fact, I was in charge of getting rid of about two hundred thousand dollars in U.S. currency. I thought of the things that I could buy with that much money. It was mind-boggling. The temptation of having that much money at one time was too great for me. I decided to bury the full amount in a place where I would be able to find it when I came back in a few months. (That is how long I expected the war to last.) After all, Captain Sorensen had merely stated, “Don’t let the Japs get the money,” so I decided to do it my way.
I found a large mango tree with a most unusual root system. I carved my tank company’s name and my initials in its trunk and then dug a hole at the base of the tree about two feet deep. I placed the metal box containing the paper money in the hole, put a few rocks on top of it, and then filled the hole with dirt and debris from around the area. Before I left, I hastily drew a map showing how many feet the tree was from the edge of the road and how many feet from the kilometer post marker, and I included a description of the tree and its root system. I was well prepared to locate the treasure and to live a beautiful life forever after. I thought about what I did over and over again. Was it wrong? Was it right? I did not know or care; I just felt I was “obeying orders.” Of course, my definition was a loose one, to satisfy myself.
The surrender we had feared had come. While waiting for the Japanese actions to be better defined, our captain asked us once again if we would stay together and surrender as a unit, the way General King had promised the enemy. Most of the men agreed, but a few felt that if they went to Corregidor they would have a better chance of survival and certainly would get some food.
Corregidor was a small island fortress about three miles out in the bay from Manila. Because of its location, with the tip of Bataan on one side and Manila Bay on the other, we expected it to be able to withstand and counter any enemy attack. In addition, there were fortified bunkers and tunnels dug all over the small island. (Malinta Tunnel was the most noteworthy. From there General MacArthur controlled the military operation for the entire Philippines’ defense, and later General Wainwright grudgingly offered the surrender of the entire Philippine garrison.) Surely, we thought, these tunnels would prevent any damage or destruction from enemy bombardment. Last, Corregidor had twenty-nine heavy-duty gun batteries, with fifty-nine large cannons strategically placed for the defense of the Philippines.
The men on Bataan had been getting halved food rations since the middle of February, and many of us had contracted malaria and dysentery and suffered their associated pains, cramps, and fevers. Taking these factors into consideration, some of the men thought Corregidor, the “impregnable” fortress, was the place to be. They found out differently on May 6, 1942, the day General Wainwright was forced to surrender the beleaguered garrison at Corregidor along with the balance of all U.S. and Philippine forces fighting on any islands of the Philippines.
Meanwhile, immediately after the fall of Bataan, my family and, of course, Laura received hundreds of letters and phone calls from friends and relatives all over the country. All were trying to give my loved ones hope—hope that I was alive and well and that I would soon come home. Just at that time, a warm, meaningful letter arrived from the governor of Illinois. It made my family feel proud of their contribution to our country’s defense.
STATE OF ILLINOIS
EXECUTIVE CHAMBERS
SPRINGFIELD
Dwight H. Green
April 21, 1942
Governor
Mr. Gus Tenenberg
1200 Sherwin Ave.
Chicago, Illinois
Dear Mr. Tenenberg:
Illinois is extremely proud of her sons in the armed services. Of none is she more proud and grateful to than those members of Company B, 192nd Tank Battalion of Maywood, who so bravely defended Bataan. The heroic stand of these stalwart Americans against insurmountable odds has written a chapter in our national life which will be inspiration to all future generations.
May I take this opportunity to extend official recognition to you from the State of Illinois for the patriotic service which your son has given to his State and country, and to join you in the prayer that he is unharmed.
Sincerely yours,
Governor
Although the surrender of Bataan occurred on April 9, 1942, the U.S. government did not communicate with my family until May 7, 1943, thirteen months later. During this long period, my family knew nothing of my whereabouts or my physical condition. Cold and callous, the letter did little to ease the pain of their not knowing.
WAR DEPARTMENT
THE ADJUTANT GENERALS OFFICE
WASHINGTON, D.C.
IN REPLY
REFER TO
AG 201 Tenenberg, Lester I.
(5-742) PC-3
May 7, 1943
Mr. Gus Tenenberg
1412 Chase Avenue
Chicago, Illinois
Dear Mr. Tenenberg:
The records of the War Department show your son, Sergeant Lester I. Tenenberg, 20 600 429 Infantry, as missing in action, in the Philippine Islands since May 7, 1942, presumed either dead or a prisoner of the Japanese.
All available information concerning your son has been carefully considered and under the provisions of Public Law 490, 77th Congress, as amended, an official determination has been made continuing him on the records of the War Department in a missing status. The law cited provides that pay and allowances are to be credited to the missing person’s account and payment of allotments to authorized allottees are to be continued during the absence of such persons in a missing status.
I fully appreciate your concern and deep interest. You will, without further request on your part, receive immediate notification of any change in your son’s status. I regret that the far-flung operations of the present war, the ebb and flow of combat over great distances in isolated areas, and the characteristics of our enemies impose upon some of us the heavy burden of uncertainty with respect to the safety of our loved ones.
Very truly yours,
J.A. ULIO
Major General
The timetable for a total Philippine victory had been established by the Japanese high command in Tokyo. The responsibility of this quick victory was originally given to Gen. Masaharu Homma, who was expected to conquer the Philippines no later than January 22, 1942. The defensive and strategic action, the determination, and the fighting skills of the U.S. and Philippine forces on Bataan gave the Un
ited States an extra seventy-six days, from January 22 to April 9, to fortify Australia and to provide the Allies with a base of operations within the Pacific theater. Australia, otherwise, would have been a sure, albeit costly, victory for the Japanese, because most of Australia’s servicemen were then fighting for the British in Africa. The Australian home front was manned mostly by the sick, the elderly, and the women of the land.
If Gen. Tomoyuki Yamashita, after taking military command of Singapore on February 12, 1942, had detoured around the Philippines and gone straight to Australia, the war may have had a different outcome. But General Yamashita was sent to the Philippines to end the bloody defense of the islands and to do what General Homma was unable to do: obtain the capitulation of the Philippines.
Our heroic defense thwarted this Japanese strategic military planning, cost Japan at least an additional twenty thousand ground troops, and caused General Homma to lose face with the officers in Tokyo’s high command. Little did the Japanese realize that the main enemy of the Bataan defenders was not Japan’s military might, but the lack of medical supplies, starvation, and the misery, pain, and suffering brought about by such diseases as malaria, dysentery, scurvy, and gangrene. These newly combined enemies of our fighting forces presented a much worse effect on our troops than the physical onslaught of the Japanese.
According to War Department records, during World War II there were 16 million Americans in uniform, of whom 291,000 died. Of this total, 55,000 personnel died while defending the Philippines. The war’s unfortunate and sad statistics show that of the total number of deaths to the total number of those in the service, the ratio was 1 to 55—that is, one died for every fifty-five that lived. In examining just the statistics from the Philippine defense, the ratio was 2 to 1: there were two deaths for every survivor of the Philippines’ defense. The actual number of deaths that occurred specifically during the fighting in the Philippines, from the Bataan Death March, or from incarceration in POW camps may never be accurately known, because the surrender and the holocaust that followed were never accurately recorded from each of these events. In spite of not knowing specifics, the deaths that occurred in the defense of the Philippines represented 17 percent of all the deaths in World War II.
CHAPTER 4
THE MARCH
Knowing the war was over for us and that it was only a matter of time before we would become formal prisoners of the Japanese, our emotions ran high the night of April 9. Bob Martin, Jim Bashleban, Orrie T. Mulholland, and I sat around our bunks, whispering about our concerns and about what our families would think of us when they found out we had surrendered.
I started to talk about Laura and all she meant to me. There was no doubt in my mind, I told them, that I would return home. I tried to explain how I was going to be decisive, and that my first priority would be to make it back all in one piece. I finally said, “You can do anything you set your mind on doing; you just have to set goals and priorities.” My words must have had some meaning to these friends of mine, for all three came home.
The men who stayed together that night in our company’s bivouac area were abruptly awakened the following morning by loud voices obviously speaking Japanese. The Japs had come for us. They stormed our area carrying handguns and machine guns; they were ready for business. My knees began shaking, my hands felt cold and clammy, and sweat broke out on my neck and forehead. We were all scared beyond anything imaginable. What was going to happen now? Were we going to be shot? Was this what happens to soldiers that surrender? I began recalling some of the stories I had heard about how some of our men who were captured early in the war were treated. Then, as a terrifying afterthought, I realized that at that moment we were facing the same enemy who only days before we were trying to kill. And, of course, if I knew that, so did these fighting Japanese soldiers who were just now coming up the path to us. Their mission, we were praying, was to take us prisoner.
Within seconds, dozens of Japanese soldiers came into our area, some asking politely for cigarettes while others pounded our heads with bamboo sticks whose ends were loaded with sand. These rough soldiers did not ask for a thing; they just took whatever they wanted. They ransacked our bodies and our sleeping area. They were belligerent, loud, and determined to act like the winners of a tough battle (which they were). Once again we were frightened by what was happening and fearful that our future treatment was going to be worse.
The first Japanese soldier I came into contact with used sign language to ask if I had a cigarette. Fingers together, he moved his arm to his mouth, and inhaled, making it easy to see what he meant. I had to tell him I did not have any cigarettes. He smiled and then a second later hit me in the face with the butt of his gun. Blood spurted from my nose and from a deep gash on my cheekbone. He laughed and said something that made all of his buddies laugh, too. He walked away from me and went to the GI on my right. He used the same sign language, and this time my buddy had cigarettes and offered him one. The Japanese soldier took the whole pack, and then he and his friends began beating my friend with rifle butts and cane-length pieces of bamboo until he could not stand. Then they left, laughing, laughing at the defeated and weak Americans.
My God, what was next? I wondered how I would stand up to this type of punishment for a prolonged period. If we had known earlier just how we would be treated and for how long, I think we would have fought on Bataan to the last man, taking as many of the enemy with us as possible, rather than endure the torture, hunger, beatings, and inhumane atrocities we were to undergo during the next three and a half years.
Unfortunately for us, the Japanese plan for evacuating their captive prisoners was based on three assumptions, all of which proved to be without merit. First, the Japanese assumed that only twenty-five thousand to thirty-five thousand military people were on Bataan. The correct number may never be known for scores of men were killed the day before the surrender and more escaped into the jungle or attempted to reach Corregidor. Besides the Allied personnel, almost twenty-five thousand Filipino civilians also sought the shelter and expected safety of the Bataan peninsula. Therefore, the number of people in Bataan at the time of the surrender was closer to 105,000. The number that actually started the infamous Bataan Death March has been estimated at 65,000 Filipino servicemen, 28,000 civilians, and 12,000 Americans—considerably more than the Japanese had estimated.
Second, the Japanese assumed that the enemy forces were in good physical condition and capable of a sustained march without much food or water. The reality was just the opposite. We men on Bataan had had our rations cut to as few as eight hundred calories a day during the past forty-five days. We ate rice and a small spoonful of C rations (an emergency military field ration of food intended for use under combat conditions and consisting of specially prepared and packaged meats). In some cases we augmented our meals with a snake or a monkey or two, or possibly even an iguana. For all of the men on the front lines, we only had two meals a day. This starvation diet brought along with it scurvy, pellagra, beriberi, and of course the diminished ability to fight off the malaria bug or any other sickness. We were anything but ready to march, with or without water and food. Those of us able to walk should have been in the hospital, and those men in the hospital looked as if they were dead.
Finally, the Japanese thought that all details of our evacuation were planned to perfection and that they knew what had to be done and how to do it. In fact, the individual Japanese units did not know what they were supposed to do. No sooner had one group of Japanese lined us up and told us to start walking than another group would tell us to wait. All of these orders were issued in Japanese, and if we did not respond immediately, we would be hit, spat upon, shoved, or in some cases shot for not obeying orders. Once again, they obviously wanted to “get even,” wanted revenge, and wanted to show us they were superior. In some situations, however, the guards were simply ignorant of the outside world and thought that everyone understood Japanese. They became irritated by our slowness to respond
and our inability to understand their commands and vented their frustration on us.
So, contrary to the Japanese plans, when the march began from Mariveles there was confusion everywhere. Cars, trucks, horses, and field artillery filled the road, all going in different directions. The Japanese were moving all of their heavy equipment and guns into Bataan for the assault on Corregidor. Figuring out how they could achieve total victory in the Philippines with all of the enemy service personnel in the way was a major problem to the Japanese. Confusion reigned, and it seemed that no specific officer was in charge, which made the task of maintaining control almost impossible.
It is also interesting at this point to note that the men captured on Corregidor never made the Bataan Death March. Instead, after the fall of Corregidor on May 6, 1942, the captives were taken by boat to Manila and from there trucked to Cabanatuan, their first prison camp. Another significant difference between the prisoners from Bataan and those from Corregidor was their overall health condition. None of the men from Corregidor had to suffer the brutalities of the march or our first prison camp, Camp O’Donnell. We men from Bataan were half dead by the time we arrived at the camp. Without any hesitancy I can say that fully 100 percent of the men who arrived at that first camp had at least one, and most of the men had two or three, of these health problems: malaria, dysentery, malnutrition, hunger, dehydration, pneumonia, beriberi, or diphtheria. In addition, almost all of us were beaten and tortured beyond the body’s normal endurance on the march. Then of course we all suffered psychological damage after our surrendering and then helplessly watching our buddies being killed right in front of us, powerless to stop the slaughter and always fearful that we would be next.