War Stories II (12 page)

It quickly became apparent to the prisoners on Bataan that their ordeal had not ended when the guns fell silent. The Japanese had no food, water, clothing, or medicine to spare. In fact, many of General Homma's soldiers guarding the prisoners were in as bad or worse shape than their American and Filipino captives. Japanese troops immediately “searched for weapons”—an excuse for stripping the prisoners of anything of value, not just watches, rings, rank insignia, and cigarettes, but boots, mess gear, canteens, packs, even clothing—the very things the prisoners would need most to survive captivity.

Once the “search” was complete, the prisoners were randomly counted off into groups of one to three hundred men and led off into the jungle. As soon as one cluster departed, another was formed up and marched off—ignoring any U.S. or Filipino unit integrity that might have kept comrades together to help one another.

By 12 April, all organization for moving tens of thousands of thirsty, wounded, sick, and starving men into the interior of Luzon had completely collapsed. There were far too few Japanese guards to keep order with such a huge number of prisoners and there was no order in the ranks whatsoever. When problems arose on the muddy, blood-soaked path, the guards used their bayonets and swords—their officers had ordered them not to “waste” ammunition—in order to keep the prisoners from getting out of hand. Deadly incidents happened infrequently at first, but quickly escalated in number as the march north degenerated into a chaotic, genocidal extermination. Weak and terrified American and Filipino troops who did not instantly follow orders or who fell out of ranks from wounds, sickness, hunger, or thirst were disemboweled or beheaded.

 

A Japanese soldier beheads a U.S. prisoner.

For most of those at the front of the column, the “march of death” took only a few days. But for the vast majority—perhaps as many as 50,000 others—farther back in the pathetic procession, it was a matter of weeks. And although there are no official reports, because the Japanese kept no records and the Allied officers weren't allowed to, survivors estimate that more than 2,000 Americans and as many as 10,000 Filipinos perished on the trek.

The Japanese also killed hundreds of Filipino civilians, often for merely showing basic human kindness to the prisoners. In one horrific, well-documented incident, a Japanese soldier used his bayonet to disembowel a pregnant Filipino woman and ripped the woman's unborn baby from her abdomen for her “crime” of offering some food to an American POW. The Japanese soldier then “mercifully” killed both mother and child.

 

Camp O'Donnell POW compound

Several thousand prisoners were routed to the little railhead town of San Fernando, where they were loaded aboard narrow-gauge railroad cars. In stifling heat, they were packed in so tightly that when the weakest expired from suffocation, wounds, heat exhaustion, or disease, they had nowhere to fall. Many of the men had dysentery and couldn't control their bowels, and as a result the floors were covered with diarrhea, urine, and vomit. The stench was unbearable. When the train finally arrived at Kapas, the Japanese opened the boxcar doors and the prisoners tumbled out. The bodies of those who had died during the journey were tossed outside into a pile, drenched with gasoline, and burned.

The terrible trek was a prelude to the horrors that would follow. Afterward, survivors estimated that there was a dead body every ten to fifteen feet along the entire route of the Death March. Yet there would be many times over the course of their confinement when the living would envy the dead.

By 24 April, more than 54,000 American and Filipino prisoners were crammed into an area of less than one square mile in western Luzon. The captives called this hellish place Camp O'Donnell. The Japanese called it a “prisoner processing center.”