I Saw You Fell - "Angels Of Bataan"

CHAPTER 4

Not that we'd have ever noticed it, but the world around us was evolving in meaningful ways. There was a war in Europe, and Japan was having its way with the Chinese. The United States was still sitting on the sidelines, but the question was ... when would we be dealt into the game?

The papers said not to worry. Japan would never attack the Philippines because Manila Bay was the home of the mighty U.S. Asiatic Fleet - a line of defense that our enemies could never cross. The problem was that Isoroku Yamamoto was a daring poker player, as he'd proven during his student days at Harvard, and he was about to deal us into the game.

It was another hot and humid night in early December. Margarita and I were attending a crazy-wild party at the Manila Hotel's Fiesta Pavilion. The 27th Bomb Group threw it. They had recently arrived from the U.S.

It was typical for the era, marked by raucous laughter, off-key singing, the tinkling of glasses, and squealing girls. Margarita and I were sitting under a cascade of scarlet bougainvillea in the Hotel's Bamboo Bar when I wittily remarked, "I hope they can fly better than they can sing."

I'm such a comedian. I just kill myself...

One of the women sitting with the aforementioned flyers sniffed and gave me a disdainful look. I said under my breath, "Stuck Up Bitch!!" Margarita dissolved in laughter. The party went on into the wee hours of the morning. I remember it well because it marked the last fragile moments of my happiness.

The war began promptly at 03:00 on December 8th. Since Manila was on the other side of the international date line, it was 08:00 Sunday, December 7th, at Pearl Harbor. But of course, we didn't know anything had happened because Margarita and I were fucking the night away.

The following day we were sipping coffee on the balcony, both terminally hung-over, when waves of planes swept low over Dewey Boulevard. They were beautiful and silver in the bright sunlight. We both thought they were American. Then we heard the anti-aircraft fire and the loud crunch of bombs coming from the direction of Clark Field.

I rushed to turn on our little Bakelite Crosley, only to find out that the U.S. was in a state of war with the Empire of Japan. That put a distinct damper on Monday morning's fun.

I did do one smart thing, though. I hustled down to the Bank of the Philippines in Intramuros and withdrew a sizable chunk of cash in gold double eagles and bills. It was pure instinct. But I figured the bank would run out of money if the Japanese invaded, and I wanted all the liquidity I could get.

As conditions evolved, it was the best thing I could have ever done. I stashed the money at the bottom of a fine leather Gladstone bag that I'd pretended to carry in my capacity as a not-quite doctor. The few actual instruments, wrappings, and medicines covered the fortune stuffed in the bottom.

Now, there was nothing to do but wait. Air raid sirens constantly sounded throughout the day, and anxious guards shot at any light source all night. The sound of one nervous volley would set off a spatter of firing all over the city.

Margarita was in a different situation than I was. She was a Filipino, not an American. Hence, she wasn't a prospective prisoner of war. Me? I was facing uncertainty as an enemy civilian ... internment or even worse.

The city of Manila was declared open the day after Christmas, the bombing stopped, and the transport system went back to running. I was on the balcony watching the smoke rise over the Bataan peninsula. You could hear the constant roar of a battle across Manila Bay. I was wondering uneasily what would happen next.

Margarita had been away for a couple of weeks up in Makati, visiting her folks. She looked determined when she got back. I grabbed her and tried to kiss her. But she turned her head. That was a new element. I said, puzzled, "What's the matter with YOU?"