The purpose of Blood Brothers is to acquaint the reader with a series of harrowing incidents experienced by the isolated U.S. Armed Forces in the Far East during World War II.
We might well be voicing the words of Saint Paul which were recorded in his Second Letter to the Corinthians, Chapter I) verse 8:
"For we would not, brethren, have you ignorant of our trouble which came to us in Asia, that we were pressed out of measure, above strength, insomuch that we despaired even of life!"
Of his First Guerrilla Regiment, General Douglas MacArthur stated that "He had acquired a force behind the Japanese lines that would have a far reaching effect on the war in the days to come"; that it had kept "Freedom's Flames burning brightly throughout the Philippines"; that it had produced a "human drama with few parallels in military history"; and later, during the landing in Lingayen Gulf, had "accomplished the purposes of practically a front line division."
MacArthur further stated that "the courageous and splendid resistance maintained by you and your command filled me with pride and satisfaction."
Of the Hell Ship Oryoku Maru, Gen. James O. Gillespie stated "it was probably the most horrible story of suffering endured by prisoners of war during World War II."
Gen. John Beall further stated, "You say a lot of things that need to be said, lest the United States forgets the horrors of the way the Japanese treated our prisoners."
In writing Blood Brothers, I found it necessary to resort to frequent flashbacks; and to keep the reader aware of the history taking place around the world, I tried to make reference to these events as they happened, even when they were merely rumors.
This story has not been pleasant to write; I'm glad it is finally finished.
In Blood Brothers, there are no heroes. The survivors of the Philippines arrived home in 1945, quietly and without recognition, to be admitted to hospitals near their homes.
With winners and heroes everywhere, there was no time for "Losers."
Eugene C. Jacobs
"Our senses can grasp nothing that is extreme! Too much noise deafens us! Too much light blinds us! Too far or too near prevents our seeing! Too long or too short is beyond understanding! Too much truth stuns us!"
Blaise Pascal
*General Harold K. Johnson, a former Chief of Staff of the United States Army, had been a former Japanese prisoner-of-war, had experienced each and every event as it happened to other P.O.W.s, and had been an excellent friend through more than thirty years of Army service; he had agreed to write this PREFACE; unfortunately, this was followed by a long hospitalization ending in terminal cancer.
In Japanese prisoner of war camps, all prisoners were divided into
groups of ten, called "blood brothers."
If anyone of the ten "blood brothers" made any attempt to escape,
the other nine would be punished "Sevelery!"
Typical punishments:
Tie the blood brothers to fence posts and require each passing
Japanese soldier to slap and kick them.
More severe punishment required recruits to use the bound brothers
for bayonet practice.
The most severe punishment required an officer to unsheathe his
samurai sword and behead the "brothers."
My ten blood brothers, all Medical Officers of the Regular Army,
were:
Lt. Col. William Draper North
Major James Bahrenberg
Wilbur Berry
Wesley Bertz*
Eugene Jacobs
Emmert Lentz
Steven Sitter
Clarence Strand *
Clarence White*
Captain Robert Lewis
The blood brothers with the asterisk (*) were killed or died on "Hell
Ships" enroute to Japan.
The other brothers survived the rigors of Bataan, the "Death March" Japanese prison camps, labor details, the "farm," and "Hell Ships" to return to the United States. Since the war, all have died, except the author, who is anxious to tell his story before the first reunion of the "brothers."
STAFF Camp John Hay Baguio, Mountain Province, P.I.
Lt. Col. John P Horan, Commanding Officer
Capt. Hubert (Sandy) Ketchum (Cav. Adjutant)
Major Henderson Allen, (Q.M.C.) Supply
Major James Blanning (Cav.)
Major Ronald McDonald, Company A
Captain Ralph Rumbold, Company B
Captain Francis Fellows, Post Exchange Officer
Captain Everett Warner, Provost Officer
Captain Parker Calvert,
Captain Eugene C. Jacobs, Post Surgeon and Hospital Commander
Captain Ruby Bradley, A.N.C., Chief Nurse
Lieut. Beatrice Chambers, A.N.C.
Lieut. Clifford Simenson, Enlisted Men's Dormitories
Lieut. Harold Everman, Signal Officer
Lieut. Cowan,
Lieut. Evans,
Sgt. R.M. Trent
Sgt. Bennet
Sgt. King
Sgt. Hayes
Sgt. Beck
Sgt. Farmer
Sgt. Sibert
Sgt. Adkins
Regret that I can not remember the names of some 200 others on duty at
Camp John Hay; they were all very dedicated personnel.
The phone next to my bed was ringing with a great deal of
determination. Half-asleep, I raised the receiver:
"WE ARE AT WAR WITH JAPAN! PEARL HARBOR IS BEING BOMBED! REPORT TO
HEADQUARTERS AT ONCE!" It was 0500 hours, December 8th, 1941.
Hawaiian time, it was 1030 hours, December 7th. The bombing was still going on, lasting from 0755 to 1050 hours.
Greatly surprised and quite groggy, I tried to collect my thoughts while getting into my freshly starched uniform, Medical Corps, U.S. Army: "Knocking out the Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor could clear the way for Japan to conquer the Philippine Islands, without any outside interference. Of all the Pacific territories of the United States, the Japanese most wanted the Philippines. General MacArthur, as well as the Japanese, believed that the Philippine Islands were the 'Key to the Orient'; Japan would have to take the Philippines before attempting to conquer any other countries in Southeast Asia. Some Navy admirals had recently remarked that the 'Pacific Fleet belongs in San Diego!' If the Japanese should sink one ship in Pearl Harbor (the so-called Mouse Trap), they could bottle up the entire fleet. Now, with the Pacific Fleet crippled, there could be no rescue attempt. For several years we had been aware that in the event of an invasion, all our defending military forces would hole-up on the Bataan Peninsula, where supplies and equipment had previously been stored, until the U.S. Navy, the most powerful in the world, could come to our rescue (Orange Plan-WPO III). "
By 0530 hours, I was standing in the office of Lt. Col. John Horan, Post Commander of Camp John Hay, waiting for instructions. I was a captain and a doctor, the C.O. of the thirty five bed station hospital.
Saluting the colonel, I was told to sit down and wait for further instructions. It was dark and cold. Maps and orders were on the colonel's dimly lighted desk. Other officers were beginning to arrive.
Don Bell's voice blared forth from Radio KZRH in Manila: "Those dirty little bastards have struck Pearl Harbor! Reports remain sketchy, but there is no doubt! "Oh God!" Bell was actually crying, near hysteria, as he continued: "The yellow-bellied Japs have hit our ships at anchor!"
Everyone was extremely excited; the air was becoming blue with cigarette smoke. No one was talking; we were all intently listening-for any late news. Several junior officers were openly nipping on pocket flasks. I thought to myself, "This is one time when I'm going to need all my marbles." We had recently returned two junior officers for alcoholism; they couldn't cope with the tropics even in peacetime. Or did they outsmart me and get back to the States to sit out the war?
No news was coming in; we were all anxious to get back to our units to make necessary preparations for war, but had to await instructions. For months we had anticipated war with Japan. We were the nearest U.S. base to Japan, so were very sensitive to any war-like talk or gestures. Actually, the thoughts of war hadn't bothered me too much; a farmer had once told me, "If you are going to get kicked by a mule, it is best to be close to the mule!" Over the last forty years, we knew the Japanese had been preparing for war, taking scrap iron and raw materials from the Philippines to Japan. Now, we had a strange feeling that we might be getting some of these materials back in a more sophisticated form.
We had no idea how, when or where this war would begin in the Philippines. The last place we expected it would happen was Camp John Hay, a Rest and Recreation Center (R.&R.), offering a delightful climate for military and naval personnel and their dependents on duty in the Far East, desiring temporary relief from the intense heat and humidity of the lowlands.
Camp John Hay was pleasantly located one mile above sea level amongst the pine trees of Mountain Province in Baguio, the summer capital of the Philippines. It was only twenty miles from the beautiful white sand beaches, the stately palms and the sweltering sun of Lingayen Gulf. Camp Hay actually had no real military value. It had been set
aside in 1903 as a recreation area by President Theodore Roosevelt, and named after his Secretary of State, John Milton Hay. The same year Roosevelt designated Baguio as the summer capital of the Philippines.
In December, 1941, there were only two companies of the 43rd Infantry of Philippine Scouts (P.S.), a housekeeping detachment, stationed there. The camp had no fortifications and no large weapons, only a few wooden barracks and some one hundred or so obsolete rifles of W. W. I. vintage. There was one small salute cannon for raising and lowering "Old Glory."
Looking back several months to July, 1941, when General MacArthur was appointed Commanding General of the U.S. Armed Forces in the Far East (USAFFE), he recruited 110,000 young Filipinos for the Philippine Army (P.A.). It would be many months before they could be trained as they spoke some sixty dialects. They looked more like boy scouts than soldiers with their fiber helmets, sport shirts and tennis shoes.
About the same time, War Plan Rainbow 5 was adopted by Roosevelt's Joint Army-Navy Board: first the Allies would conquer Germany and Italy. As for Japan, the Allied strategy in the Far East was purely defensive. MacArthur opposed the idea of the Philippines being abandoned, but agreed with the plan "to defend all Philippine soil." He told his officers: "The beaches must be defended at all costs; prevent the enemy from making any landing!"
We at Camp John Hay believed ourselves reasonably safe in this mountain resort, even when war seemed imminent. President Manuel Quezon also must have considered himself secure in Camp Hay as he was in residence at the beautiful presidential mansion.
Finally, Colonel Horan, standing tall behind his desk, announced: "I have been unable to obtain any new information from USAFFE in Manila. I understand the damage done to the Pacific Fleet in Pearl Harbor has been extensive. Captain Warner (CO. of Military Police (M.P.): take your M.P.s and any scouts that you need, round up all Japanese civilians in the Baguio area, and bring them into camp!
"Lieutenant Velasco: build an eight-foot fence around Barracks
8 and 9; confine all Japanese internees there!
"Other officers: acquaint your troops with the present war situation, and War Plan Rainbow 5. Stay near your telephones!"
At 0730 hours, with a lump in my throat and a complete loss
of appetite, I tried to swallow a few bites of breakfast at the Officers' Mess, overlooking the gorgeous valleys below. Everyone was excited, wondering what the next news would be. Normally I would have walked the few blocks from the hospital to the mess hall and back, just for the exercise; this morning I drove my1936 Model A coupe. Time might become very important at any moment.
At 0800 hours I was in my office in the hospital, on a hill overlooking Camp Hay, carefully studying my orders and maps.
At 0805 hours our two Army nurses, Captain Ruby Bradley and Lieutenant Beatrice Chambers, entered my office. I inquired, "Do you know that we are at war with Japan?"
Before either could answer, bombs were falling on all sides of the hospital. "There they are!" I exclaimed. Not yet realizing how dangerous the bombs could be, we casually walked to the windows and watched the tremendous explosions moving across the camp-toward headquarters-raising clouds of dust to the rooftops. The war arrived at Camp John Hay at 0809 hours, Dec. 8, 1941. Between twenty and twenty-five twin-engine bombers were overhead in a diamond formation. Soon some 150 bombs of various sizes were bringing disability and death to many of our soldiers-drilling on the parade ground-and to their families in their small homes. It seemed unreal that Camp Hay could be the first target of the Japanese bombers, actually starting World War II in the Philippines.
Where were our American planes? We probably did just what the Japanese planned that we would. We called Clark Air Field-about one-hundred miles to the southwest, and told them, "Camp John Hay is being bombed! Get some fighters up here, and keep those bombers away!"
We had no air-raid sirens, no machine guns, no anti-aircraft guns, nothing to deter them. We were surprised by the air attack, and even more by their accuracy. We heard the bombers were led by German pilots-possibly the very ones we were playing golf with the previous week.
If the Japanese thought that they would catch our military and naval officers on weekend leave at Camp Hay, they were fooled, as all personnel had previously been restricted to their stations and ships by a General Alert. Within thirty minutes, the U.S. fighters were circling overhead looking for Jap planes. Finding none, they returned to Clark Field just before noon to
gas up and get lunch. Along with thirty-five U.S. bombers, the fighters lined up on the runways, soon to be blasted by two waves of 50 heavy Japanese bombers. About the same time, Nichol's Field, Fort McKinley and Cavite Naval Station were being heavily bombed. Nearly half of the U.S. Army Air Corps planes were destroyed during the first day of war, the day before Congress declared war.
Wounded were now arriving at the hospital by every available vehicle. It was a horrible scene, an unforgettable sight, as corridors quickly filled with seriously wounded and dying soldiers, lying in puddles of blood, moaning, groaning, screaming, and begging for mercy.
Being the only Army doctor on Northern Luzon, I was to be tested as never before in my life. I was a Regular Army professional soldier, alone, and on my own. If we didn't act quickly, we would very soon have many dead patients. I had seen many bad auto accidents, but never anything like this. Shaking and woozy, I told myself, "This is no time to 'chicken out.' God, give me strength!"
Mustering my strongest voice, I screamed: "Everybody! Listen to me! These patients are all bleeding. We've got to stop the bleeding quickly - right now! Elevate extremities! Use anything you can get to stop the bleeding! Tourniquets! Compression bandages! Hemostats! Even your fingers, if they are clean! Bring all bad cases to the operating room!"
During the next thirty-two hours, our medical staff worked around the clock, applying tourniquets and compression bandages, amputating arms and legs (many dangling by only a few shreds of skin or tendons), tying off bleeders, giving tetanus shots, laying the dead in the garage for identification. As soon as we could get each patient through his emergency, we sent him by ambulance to one of the civilian hospitals in Baguio for definitive care, and a few miles distant from any future bombing.
I was very fortunate in obtaining Dr. Beulah Allen (the wife of our Post Quartermaster, Lt. Col. Henderson Allen), a retired surgeon, to assist me. She was a tower of strength. While Dr. Allen and I were operating, Civil War General Sherman's remarks that "War is hell!" kept haunting me.
I was extremely proud of my medics; we took care of wounds, the likes of which none of us had ever seen before! Periodically, a Jap plane would drop a bomb or two-to let us know the war
was still on. They did little damage. After we had our wounded taken care of to the best of our ability, we dared to look outside to see the thirty-foot craters and damaged buildings near the hospital.
For the first time, I realized that I was frightened. I could have been in one of those buildings, or walking across the areas where the craters were.
Dee. 9, 1941: At night our medical teams returned to their individual quarters for their first rest since the bombing exhausted and giddy. I turned on my little radio. Although the signal was badly jammed by the Japanese as it had been for several months, I was able to make out that Congress had declared war on Japan at 1610 hours on December 8, 1941, (0500 hours, Dec. 9 Philippine time). Now it was OK for us to shoot back at the Japs! But with what? I also learned that the Japs had landed large forces in French Indochina.
I was quite sure that all commercial communications with the States had been cut off, but I called the radio station to send a message to my wife, Judy, a teacher at Holton Arms School in Washington, D.C., that I was OK.
Judy and I had arrived in Manila on July 20, 1940, after a delightful trip from New York City through the Panama Canal on the U. S. Army Transport Republic bound for San Francisco, and on the U.S.A.T. Grant via Hawaii, Guam and Manila. We got to see two World's Fairs (New York and San Francisco). It was really our honeymoon, as we had previously been too poor to afford one.
During the six weeks we were on the high seas, history had been taking place. Hitler's armies had blitzkrieged through Holland, Belgium and France; the British Army had a forced evacuation from Dunkirk in an armada of small boats. Mussolini had declared war on Britain and France (actually stabbing France in the back while she was on her knees). Hitler's bombers were causing havoc in England, and his submarines were sinking many Allied ships in the Atlantic. Tojo was vigorously continuing his "undeclared wars" in Manchuria and China. Churchill said, "We shall seek no terms; we shall ask no mercy."
Roosevelt, preoccupied by presidential elections, was finally becoming aware of Hitler's threat to democracy. He called up volunteers for the Army; he further prepared for war by agreeing to transfer many planes, tanks and some sixty reconditioned
destroyers to Britain.
Our ships bound for the Philippines had large U.S. flags painted on each side lighted at night. We were wary of subs as they had been busy in the Atlantic. We were beginning to get the feeling that maybe this would not be the "happy honeymoon" that we had planned. And yet, war seemed so very "far away."
December 10, 1941: Several bombings with little damage, a few wounded.
We did our best to make them comfortable. We learned that President
Quezon had departed from Camp Hay soon after the first bombing for the
Malacanong Palace in Manila. The Japanese would probably spare the
palace for their own use.
During free moments, of which there were very few, I instructed our medics in first aid, litter drill over mountain trails, etc. I did all of the things that I could think of in preparation for war: drew money out of the bank; got some new field boots and field uniforms from the clothing store, packed my bedding roll with soap, toothpaste, razor, towels, etc., and put fresh medicines in my little black doctor's bag given to me by Dr. Eugene Stafford, who had retired in Baguio after a distinguished career at the Mayo Clinic. I moved my furniture to his house for safekeeping until after the war.
I had to go over to the Japanese barracks to inspect some two-hundred internees (civilian prisoners). They had staked out a big Japanese flag on the ground for planes to see, for their own protection.
One of the Japanese prisoners was brought to me with a severe sore throat. Examination showed a peritonsillar abscess. The treatment would be to lance the abscess and let the pus out. He was the first real live Jap that I had ever met face-to-face. I attempted to explain his condition to him. I proceeded to cut his throat with a surgical knife. He had considerable pain for an instant, then considerable relief. I gave him an analgesic and a sedative. He seemed grateful, shook my hand and said, "Arigato vely much!" as he bowed deeply and departed for his bed.
Some gold-mining engineers, friends of Col. Horan, built an "entrance to a mine" some thirty feet back into a hillside in the center of camp for an air-raid shelter. It proved to be very good, but we nearly broke a leg each time we raced a bomb down the hill to the entrance.
That night our radio told us that the Japs had made landings
at Aparri, on the north coast of Luzon, and had actually landed two thousand soldiers at Vigan on the northwest coast. It sounded like they had landed without any resistance. These two cities were only two or three marching days from Baguio. Was the Rainbow war plan not working?