And Carl was long gone. They never caught him; he made it to the hills, hooked up with some friendly Filipinos, got a ride south aboard a fishing boat, and eventually became one of the most famous guerrilla leaders on Mindanao-but of course I didn't know anything about that till long after the war.
They did it the following Monday morning. They marched us out onto the parade ground and had us stand in a kind of big hollow square, facing the center, so we could all see.
When they brought MacArthur out he had his hands tied behind his back. He was blindfolded, too; the soldiers on either side of him were holding his upper arms and steering him. Watanabe walked beside them. A young lieutenant I'd never seen before led the way. He was carrying a long sword.
Somebody-I think it was General Bluemel-called sharply, "Atten-shun!"
Standing on the HQ porch, Colonel Sakamoto looked around angrily as a hundred-and-some-odd scarecrows snapped to a ragged attention. But he didn't say anything.
The guards led MacArthur to the middle of the square. The lieutenant said something, not loudly, and Watanabe translated, though we couldn't hear the words. MacArthur nodded and started to kneel. He lost his balance and the guards caught him and helped him down, very gently and solicitously.
Everything got very quiet.
MacArthur bowed his head. "Ready when you are, Lieutenant." he said. He didn't raise his voice; he might have been requesting a subordinate to hand him a map. His voice carried in the silence, though, like an organ chord.
The lieutenant took a step forward, raising his sword. He brought it down slowly, turning it to touch MacArthur's neck with the back of the blade. Then he swung it up again. The steel caught the sun for an instant before it flashed down.
I confess I closed my eyes then; but I heard the sound, and that was enough. And when I opened my eyes again, what they saw was still something no man should ever have to see.
"Such a tragic thing," Watanabe said. "Such a waste."
We were standing near the gate, almost exactly where Carl and I had been standing that morning when they brought MacArthur in. It was late afternoon, almost time for dinner. You'd think no one would have had any appetite after what we'd seen that morning. You'd think that if you'd never been a prisoner of the Japanese.
"Just a little longer," Watanabe said, "and none of this would have happened. They're going to close this camp down, you see. All the senior officers are going to be moved to a camp on the island of Taiwan, which you call Formosa."
He looked off across the now-empty parade ground. They'd spread earth over the stained spot, but you could still see where it had happened.
"And General MacArthur-there were plans for him, because of his high rank. He was to be confined on the mainland of Japan, in a special facility which was being prepared for him. In my own hometown, as it happens." Watanabe looked wistful. "So much better than this place… a beautiful city, I think you'd like it. I don't suppose you heard of it."
He cocked his head to one side, seeming to think of something. "Although-you know, when I was at Princeton, there was a silly little ragtime song the boys used to sing around the piano-"
And he began singing, in a high uneven tenor, the ridiculous words contrasting strangely with the deep sadness on his face:
"Nagasaki, where the fellows chew tobacky,
And the women wicky-wacky-woo!"
I Shall Return
John Mina
Manila, December 8, 1941 3:40 a.m.
Brigadier General Dwight D. Eisenhower was shaken from a deep sleep by a relentless cacophony. He sat up instantly when he realized it was the telephone on the nightstand. "What is it?" he barked, trying to sound more annoyed than alarmed.
"It's the Japs, General!" screamed the reply. "They just hit Pearl Harbor!"
There was a brief pause as the general tried to absorb the full impact. "Spence, is that you? Settle down! Is it confirmed or just another one of those bullshit rumors going around?"
General Spencer B. Akin of the Signal Corps tried to respond with some composure. "It's on the wire service and one of my boys heard it announced on a Los Angeles radio broadcast. Also, Admiral Hart confirms it. Seems the Navy lads knew about this twenty-five minutes ago."
"Christmas! Why is it that when we don't want news to travel it moves faster than a fly towards buttermilk but when there's important information… anyway, thanks, Spence. Stay on the horn and keep me posted." He hung up the phone and picked it back up again. "This is General Eisenhower. Put me through to General MacArthur immediately."
About three maddening minutes later he heard a voice on the other end. "Who the hell is this?"
"It's Ike, General. The Japs just hit Pearl."
"Pearl Harbor?" MacArthur exclaimed in astonishment. "But that's our strongest point! They must have gotten their tails whipped!"
"We don't have any damage reports yet. In any case we need to put the men on alert."
"I agree, Ike, but don't initiate anything without my orders."
"No, sir. But I do need to have Doolittle and Patton prepare for possible invasion."
"Just have them put their men on standby. I doubt we'll be attacked. If we go off half-cocked and this turns out that a few Jap reconnaissance planes were shot down over Hawaii we'll be a laughingstock."
Eisenhower's head was swimming as he struggled pulling his pants on. How the heck did I get into this mess? he thought. Then he recalled his friend back in DC. "Marshall! When I get home I'll have to kick his butt."
Ike had known the situation here, in the Philippines, for many years as did any of the military personnel who had spent as much time here as he had. They were the obvious strategic target for an ever more aggressive Japanese empire, as most military experts agreed. However, local politics, the distracting behavior of the Germans, and MacArthur's innate ability to alienate everyone in Washington had placed them in a position of almost hopeless vulnerability. Back in 38, he went, on behalf of MacArthur, to Washington to try and drum up support for the Philippines but the emotional climate there had been less than favorable. This was due to the fact that the Filipinos were clamoring for independence. As far as the War Department was concerned, as long as they were pushing for independence, they could "jolly well look after themselves." After a campaign of unsuccessful begging, he finally bought a few planes on his own and returned to Manila.
Then in 39, when the Germans invaded Poland, he had asked, and had been granted a transfer back to Washington. As he worked feverishly to prepare for the inevitable war in Europe, his conscience had been nagged by feelings of guilt over having deserted his friends in the Pacific. In an effort to clear his mind he once again pleaded MacArthur's case to Marshall. "That was my mistake," he muttered to himself as he finished tying his shoes.
To his shock, Marshall had agreed with him. "You're right Ike. We do need to bolster the Philippines. And you're gonna take charge, personally. I need a workhorse out there, not just grandstanding. Plus, you're the only one that can get around MacArthur's ego. As long as you humor him, he'll give you free reign. You know what to do."
Eisenhower was too stunned to respond. Before he could formulate a tactful refusal, Marshall was standing and giving instructions to his secretary to write out the orders. Of course Marshall was right, but Ike wasn't expecting this sudden change of plans. "I'm going to need some good people, George. I can't go it alone," he shouted as Marshall reached the door.
"Whatever you need, Ike. Just get the job done."