Through Fire and Through Water.

CHAPTER III
FALL OF A CITY

The day after the war began we sighted our first enemy planes. The children and I had just started down town when the sound of the siren made us take shelter under a house. From there we peered out at the silvery forms of bombers high in the sky above. Antiaircraft guns near the city center began blazing away, the puffs of their exploding shells being visible in the air far below the high altitude at which the bombers flew serenely on. We counted seventy-two planes in that one flight. After they had passed over the city to the south the ground began to shake and rumble from the exploding bombs being rained upon Nichols Field, an air base not far away. We heard later that another flight at the same time had bombed the Naval base at Cavite, several miles away across the bay.

When war started a blackout was ordered every where. City busses stopped and went into the work of transporting troops. Only the street cars remained in service. We heard of landings by the enemy to the south at Legaspi, then to the north at Aparri and Vigan, later at Lingayan Gulf and at Batangas. We were surrounded. There were almost daily bombings of Manila and vicinity. Once we were at the American Consulate when the nearby port area was bombed. There were large concussions only about three blocks away, and the building we were in rocked as though by an earthquake while window glass came tumbling down. Many people were killed that day. Another time we were in a large crowd of people who lay for hours flat on the floor of the National City Bank building while the planes dove above the city and bombs thundered down along the Pasig River and in Intromuros.

Before the end of December, 1941, the U. S. soldiers had retreated from Manila to take up a stand on Bataan Peninsula and on Corregidor, and only a skeleton staff of Philippino officials were left in Manila in order to surrender the city. When the soldiers left, all the supplies of military value in the port area were set on fire. Oil tanks were also set ablaze and burned for several days, the great pillars of black smoke drifting out over the bay adding a dark color of foreboding to the red evening sunsets.

Neighbors who had previously fled the city now began to return as the Japanese forces drew nearer, and with the departure of the U. S. Army there was no longer any American rule, nor was the American flag seen anywhere. While the piles of supplies on the piers burned people were permitted to come and gather up what they pleased. Soon the craze for loot began to increase until bands of Philippinos were going where they pleased along the streets, breaking into shops and stores, first those of Japanese, but later those of Chinese and Philippinos, and carrying off everything of value that was moveable. It was a striking example of what humanity turns into when at any time the control of government is removed.

All postal communication with the United States had of course been stopped by the war, so the day after Christmas I tried to send a radiogram home. They took the message but said they were about five days behind in their transmission work. When three days later the radio station was destroyed, I knew that my message had never gotten through. The first Japanese arrived in Manila on January 1st, 1942, riding on bicycles. Others soon followed with tanks and trucks, and by the third day the city was pretty well occupied. On Sunday we started to go to the Baptist Church, but seeing guards on all the main streets we went to the nearby Presbyterian church instead. That day we heard that the Japanese had begun gathering up allied citizens, so we got things packed away in trunks and suitcases, preparing ourselves to leave at any moment. Then on Monday morning, January 5th, we heard the sinister sound of knocking at our door, and upon opening it we saw there three Japanese men come to take us away to internment.