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Once Murphy’s Company F attacked from the rear, Prince’s Company C “opened fire with a barrage that was so immense it was plainly overkill” (346). All of the Japanese watch towers and pillboxes “had been neutralized, or obliterated altogether” in less than a minute (346). Company C’s Teddy Richardson shot open the padlock on the main gate, and the Rangers were inside. The first prisoners they encountered were confused as the Rangers yelled directions at them to head to the main gate. Staff Sergeant Manton Stewart used a bazooka to destroy the flimsy buildings that housed military machinery. Opening the gates to the American part of the camp, Ranger Lester Malone announced his presence, “We’re Yanks!” and instructed the prisoners to head to the main gate (350).
The American prisoners resembled “scared vermin scattering for cover after you switch on the kitchen lights” (350). Some were confused. Others thought it was a trick. Others yet prayed. Certain prisoners even seemed ungrateful. Prisoners like Bert Bank experienced symptoms of blindness and required help to move about. Bob Body’s escape plan was foiled once again, “trumped by a full-scale rescue” (353). To the prisoners, “the Rangers looked exceedingly strange”—from their unrecognizable uniforms to firearms (351). Many prisoners were confused about what the main gate was—to them, it “always meant the gate to the American compound” rather than the main entrance and exit of the prison compound (353). Others were not American—British, Norwegian, Dutch, and Canadian—so they asked if they could leave too. Dr. Ralph Hibbs did not seem to understand how urgent the escape had to be and “needed a little physical convincing” (353). Colonel Duckworth, the US camp commander, was “[t]he most recalcitrant prisoner” (354). The Rangers had to prevent the POWs from taking their documents, souvenirs, and clean clothing. Eventually, however, “the awareness that this was a jailbreak was beginning to sink in among the rest of the prisoners” (355).
The rescuers “were truly appalled at the grotesque condition of many of the prisoners” (358). The prisoners were “a ghastly parade—amputees, consumptives, men with peg legs, men without hair or teeth, men with the elephantine appendages and scrotums indicative of web beriberi” (358). Some Rangers teared up at the extent of the prisoners’ emaciation. Corporal Jim Herrick carried a POW who died in his arms from a heart attack outside the gate—“apparently the raid’s first American casualty” (360). Some Rangers were wounded by Japanese mortar shells, such as Alfred Alfonso, Tom Rounsaville, and Jack Peters. Bill Nellist—completely lacking medical training—used his field knife and wire cutters to cut out and remove a large metal fragment from Rounsaville on site. Captain James Fisher, a doctor, was also wounded in his stomach and bleeding profusely. He “knew it was extremely serious,” so the other medics carried him to Platero (363).
Mucci watched the raid from the field. As they moved, the Rangers could hear “an enormous firefight” between Captain Pajota’s guerillas and the Japanese (365). Some POWs walked naked, fearing that their white G-strings were too visible in the moonlight. Many were too weak, or too blind, to walk and had to be carried or led. Finally, Mucci’s men found the promised carabao and carts in the riverbed of the Pampanga River (367). The Japanese attempted to chase the column, including a light tank, which they shot with a rocket launcher. As the American column crossed the Pampanga River, they were heading into safety because the river was “both a literal and a metaphorical line of demarcation” (368).
As the Rangers transported the liberated POWs, Juan Pajota “engaged in the fight of his life” next to the bridge over the Cabu River (370). First, the Filipino guerillas were able to target the Japanese troops when they relaxed. Second, they blew up a part of the bridge with a time bomb, which prevented the passage of large traffic but not the Japanese infantry from crossing it. Third, Pajota’s men continually cut down waves of Japanese soldiers trying to approach them, turning it into “a scene of revolting carnage” (372). They did not understand their opponents’ “failure to find an alternative route across the river” in what turned out to be a “kamikaze charge” (372). Unlike Pajota, Captain Joson did not have to engage the Japanese at all during the raid. Joson’s withdrawal was quick, while Pajota’s—“a much more complicated and delicate procedure”—took hours (379).
At the end of the raid, Captain Prince personally inspected the barracks to ensure that no one was left behind (374). Satisfied with the results and fearing the lurking Japanese, Prince fired the red flare seen for miles to alert his comrades: “The assault was officially concluded” (374). However, there was one person left behind after the Rangers departed: 65-year-old civilian Englishman Edwin Rose, “sweet but slightly skittish” who “wasn’t all there” (375). He seemed to have dozed off on the latrine and missed the raid because he was deaf and had limited eyesight. Rose “had no idea that the camp was in ruins” and simply went to sleep (376).
At this time, the rear guard, comprising Roy Sweezy, Francis Schilli, and Charles Brown, was departing the camp. In the commotion, Charles Brown, who was “evidently panicked” and mistook him for a Japanese soldier, shot a fellow American soldier, Sweezy, twice in the chest (377). The soldiers baptized Sweezy as he died. After the raid, Dr. Carlos Layug operated on the gravely wounded Dr. Fisher “in the field hospital that he himself had set up earlier” (380). Removing shards from his liver did not improve his prognosis, nor did a vein-to-vein blood transfusion. Bill Nellist sought to transport Dr. Fisher to a proper hospital even though it was dangerous. Overnight, the locals worked to create a rudimentary airstrip for a plane that never came. In the morning, Dr. Fisher died—the second Ranger casualty.
The carabao column of the Rangers, Filipino guerillas, and former POWs—“the last of many marches”—periodically stopped for breaks (382). It was then that they realized that Edwin Rose was missing and sent some guerillas after him in the morning. Some POWs stubbornly tried to walk. The weather was ideal—cool and dry. Mucci worked to improve everyone’s morale. As the Rangers grew tired, they ingested Benzedrine, an amphetamine. Amphetamines “became all the rage as a stimulant” during WWII both for the Axis and the Allies (388).
The column was also helped by the fact that the Black Widow bombed five trucks with Japanese troops earlier that night. At one point, the columns had to pass through a village controlled by Marxist-inspired Hukbalahap, the Huks, who disliked both the Japanese and the Americans. Bluffing that the village would be leveled with American artillery, Mucci secured safe passage. Soon Mucci learned that the US demarcation line had moved 15 miles closer to them, which shortened the march. One of the POWs, Johnson, died from tuberculosis minutes after leaving the Japanese territory.
Structurally, the prison-camp raid in Chapter 12 functions as the climax of Ghost Soldiers. It is the point toward which all previous action has been leading. It is also the book’s main topic. Furthermore, the raid serves as the moment in which the two narratives collide and become one. However, the author continues to present the situation both from the POWs’ and the rescuers’ points of view to enhance the readers’ understanding. His interviews of the raid’s participants—on both sides—are a significant contribution to the oral history of World War II.
In turn, the final chapter of the book acts as the resolution, with falling action as the POWs are safely transferred to the American lines. It is worth noting that, despite the build-up for the previous 11 chapters, the climax almost comes across as anti-climactic: The entire raid takes only about 30 minutes and is a success. Only two soldiers were killed, and two prisoners died due to failing health.
In this section, the author uses several Christian symbols because they are both instantly recognizable and impactful. They also fit well with the text’s climax and the resolution in contrast to the preceding two chapters, which were more action-packed and less analytical. First, the “harrowing of hell” is a key subject in Christian theology, in which Christ descends into Hell to offer salvation to the souls trapped there. Thus, the title of Part 2, “Harrow Hell,” compares the Rangers’ rescue of the Allied POWs to this religious symbol, in which Cabanatuan is akin to Hell, the prisoners of war are the souls waiting for salvation, and the rescuers are Christ-like figures.
Second, as the column approached the Pampanga River, “One POW thought the train of prisoners approaching the banks of the Pampanga looked like the Hebrews of Exodus” (368). In this Old Testament story, Moses led the Hebrews out of Egypt, as the Pharoah’s men attempted to capture them. The Red Sea parted as a miracle, offering the Hebrews safe passage on their way to the Promised Land. Similarly, the author underscores the fact that late January was the optimal time to cross Pampanga because it swelled during the later rainy season, making it unsafe. Also, the Japanese attempted to chase the escaped POWs like the Pharaoh’s men. For this reason, the timing and the success of the rescue could be considered a miracle. The fact that the POWs themselves would be making such comparisons also confirms the fact that the focus on religion in the camp helped them survive.
Third, as the POWs and their rescuers had to cross the river, some of them were submerged underwater, “a baptism no one seemed to mind” (367). In Christianity, a baptism is a key sacrament, meaning a new life as a Christian. For the POWs, their submergence also symbolized a new life as free men and the ability to return home. Indeed, the river was such a powerful symbol that the author also compares the water buffalo transporting the POWs to safety to “unlikely Charons” (367). In Greek mythology, Charon operated a ferry on the River Styx in the underworld, transporting the dead. Here, the carabao transported the prisoners of war from the world of the “forgotten men” to that of the living. Overall, the use of symbolism is a departure from the rest of the book. The author can use metaphorical language here not only because this is the climax and conclusion of Ghost Soldiers, but also because he already examined some of the book’s key themes in the previous chapters.
By Hampton Sides