Having been taken over from Hongkong with the evacuees in July, 1940, we lived in Manila a year and a half before the fall of the city. Then we were behind the Japanese lines for thirty-seven months, which really can be divided into three periods of time: For a little more than a year we lived in our own house, before entering Santo Tomas Internment Camp in the heart of the city; ten months were spent in camp under civilian Japanese, who were later taken into the Japanese army in Manila; and twelve months under the military, which was tough, and became worse as time went on.
When the Japanese entered Manila, they took most of the British and Americans to the internment camp, promising that it would take three days to register them, after which they would return to their homes. But instead, the Japanese themselves took possession of their homes; or took whatever they wanted of the furniture, clothing, bathroom and kitchen fixtures, etc., and carried it away in trucks. They also took possession of most of the cars and trucks and rode around like lords. It proved to be a year for a day, for it was just three years before the U. S. forces entered Santo Tomas Camp and liberated the internees. We, however, being a large family and having a baby only twelve months old, were not interned immediately, but received a temporary release from the Japanese Army which permitted us to live in our own home and to go about the city unmolested. Many others with babies, also those who were not in good health, received the same privilege
Civilians stayed in their homes for the first few days of occupation—until the Japanese had established their rule. In about a week when we came out, we found that grocery stores had been looted by Filipinos or emptied by the Japanese Army, and much of this was later put on the Filipino markets. Banks were all closed and all enemy-alien money was frozen. Later Filipino and Japanese banks opened and enemy-aliens who happened to have money in the banks were allowed to draw only a small amount monthly, but most of us who had money in British and American banks just said “ good-bye” to it. Then, too, the Americans in charge of the Red Cross were interned and their work given to Filipino or Spanish people who were informed that they were now not to help enemy-aliens but only the needy Filipinos. We lived for more than a year—a family of eight— in a strange land, among strange people, and cut off as we were from our supply of money, yet in one way or another our needs were supplied.
At first, we seemed quite free, though we were busy keeping up with the military regulations. In order to buy rice, we had to have a residence certificate, which after a few days had to be changed. Later we had to register as aliens, and finally we were forced to wear a red arm-band whenever we went out. This took away our liberty, as only one such arm-band was given to each family in order that only one adult could go out at a time. We were also informed that we were not to be found in theaters or any places of amusement, being allowed to go out only on business. We were watched very closely, and what puzzled the Japanese most was that we were still able to keep going, and had money to spend. We did not dare let them know where our money came from, as then our friends who were helping us would have been taken out to the prison and tortured. The Japanese were taking over all the best residential buildings, and they gave us notice, but it was six weeks before we finally entered the concentration camp.
The camp was well organized under American and British men and women and, as all the business was carried on through the Internee Committee, we hardly ever saw a Japanese. We really felt more free than we had for the last few months outside. We had clinics and hospitals for both children and adults. A fruit and vegetable market was open every morning when Filipinos came in and sold. Shoe repair service was in operation, whereby shoes were turned in and allowed to be sent out to Filipino shops for repairs. Laundry also could be sent outside. We had a cold storage department, a canteen, and a “ personal service,” where we could order things and buyers were allowed to go out and bring back anything that could be found on the markets. The annual “ Hobby Show” was also interesting and took up much time.
Our small compound was like a Chinese village. All who were fortunate enough to have a lot and could build a shanty, lived very comfortably in their primitive style. Trees, shrubs, and flowers were beautiful and we felt that we were really enjoying God’s creation while so many in other parts of the world were suffering and risking their lives.
Conditions changed when the Military took over: things were gradually taken from us. We had guards all around us, and we had to bow to them whenever we met them. We had two roll-calls a day, and once in a while we had three roll-calls when we had to stand in line, waiting until the officer of the day dismissed us. The extra supplementary food, supplied by internees, was all used and the Japanese rations were being cut almost weekly. The newspapers were taken from us, and only essential camp business was broadcast over our loud speaker. Entertainments were things of the past, and because of the many regulations, it was hard to find a time suitable to everyone for church services and prayer meetings. We were entirely cut off from the outside, our money was taken from us and a small amount given back at the beginning of each month.
Such conditions became worse after the American bombing in 1944, and continued until the American troops entered in February, 1945. Our friends were being turned away from the gate with their gifts of food—being told that we had no need of food or other supplies—while internees ate dogs, cats, rats, roots of flowers and trees, garbage, fought with knives over the skins and entrails of the caribou (killed by the Japanese for their own use), and went to bed hungry night after night. Children climbed into the Japanese pig pen and ate the half rotten vegetables that were thrown to the pigs. Two men fought over a cup of soup, resulting in the only murder which occurred in the camp. Internees were dying six to eight a day, and the doctor in charge was placed in jail for putting “starvation” or “malnutrition” on the death certificates. The Japanese thought “heart failure” might sound better, but he refused to alter it. Even a well-known millionaire died of starvation. A mania of copying out recipes and menus took hold of the camp, and even old men sat for hours copying recipes and planning meals for the future. One of the doctor’s said mania was a form of temporary insanity.
Many fainted in the camp or over the campus, and camp duties were cut down to only essential work. We thought often of the Israelites as they slaved in the land of Egypt under the cruel task-masters. We learned too, that “sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof” for who could tell what the morrow might bring forth, and worry would not help matters. And so, life continued until that wonderful day of liberation. Twenty-four hours and our camp was to be destroyed. All males 18 years old and over were to be shot, and the women and children taken as hostages.
This word reached General MacArthur in time to send a squadron of 700 men with orders to make Santo Tomas Camp at any cost. Many gambled away thousands of dollars as they set dates for the Americans to return. We were told to prepare for a ten-day siege, but they came so suddenly and with such great noise that the estimated 20,000 Japanese soldiers in the city must have thought that the whole U. S. Army had come. We were now free! free! free! What a hilarious time followed! We had more now than we could eat—could not take it at all at first, and so we suffered more from the abundance of food than we had from the want of it.
But at last we became adjusted, and enjoyed peace after a period of about two weeks of continual shelling and much excitement. We gained weight at the rate of about five pounds a week. The next excitement was the anticipation and preparation for our trip home.
We travelled on an army transport, in army clothes much of the time—until the Red Cross relieved us of them in Los Angeles and San Francisco, and gave us civilian clothing. Sudden changes in climate gave us all sore throats and colds. Our Canadian Consul met us at Los Angeles and escorted us to San Francisco, having chartered two Pullman cars for the group of internees. At San Francisco we were met by Prime Minister MacKenzie King, and were welcomed back home. Everything happened so suddenly that we were dazed. We proceeded to. Vancouver, B. C., where we were met by friends and relatives. In all our journey we found many kind friends, both old and new, who have all done much to make us feel that we are still a part of the land of the free and the home of the brave.
We could never begin to relate all the experiences which we have gone through during the three years under the Japanese rule nor the things which we have heard and seen, neither would we exchange these experiences or forfeit the lessons learned “behind the lines” for anything in the world. Although we would not miss these experiences, yet we would not want to go through them again, and are glad to realize that they are now all in the past.
Click here for a photo of the family after their release from the Japanese Prison Camp
Missionary Messenger, Vol. XXII, No. 7, July 1945