The Blood and Mud in the Philippines: Anti-Guerrilla Warfare on Panay Island
Continuation of Chapter 8
By dusk of March 19, we ordered the front left forces of Noda to attack in the direction of the vast plain to Pavia. But before the command to attack could be made, there was a mighty guerrilla shooting spree that led to the bad news that company commander Noda, Master Sergeant Sô and other main officers of the company were killed in combat. Although Lieutenant Noda had dashed towards enemy positions, his subordinates were terrified by the fierce shooting and did not join him. Noda was shot to death as he was trapped in the enemy’s wire-fence. Master Sergeant Sô got seriously wounded and killed himself with his pistol.
Since the main officers of the company were slain, the Noda force could not make the attack. I felt that a tragic end was rapidly falling upon us and was irritated that no good ideas were forthcoming. I only ordered all the vehicles to be burnt. Mortar fire continued. As I had sent a messenger to see how the Hôjins were doing, I heard that the women and children were getting bored and that some were making tea that the children wanted. They did not comprehend the mortal combat going on so close by, and I was concerned how they would react to this reality.
At around 4 a.m. of March 19, Lieutenant Fujii, commander of the 2nd Company that was posted as rear guard, surprised the headquarters staff by showing up suddenly. He said: ‘Shall the 2nd Company cross the Jaro River on the right and attack from that side? The rear would be empty without their protection, exposing the Hôjin Company, hospital patients, and Hôjin women and children left behind. Otherwise, however, we would all be destroyed.’ Colonel Tozuka then ordered, ‘All right, Fujii. Do that.’ Before long, the Fujii Company crossed the Jaro River. In the hope that other forces would follow them, the headquarters ordered an NCO liaison officer to guide the Hôjin. As soon as the Japanese forces started to cross the river, shouts of the attack – ‘Wah, wah’ – rose at the forefront. With those shouts, the whole group ran along the main road. As it had become light, we waited for the forces that followed within a coconut grove on the left bank of the Jaro River. Eventually, the Kempeitai, the Mizutani Force, the remaining Division forces, the NCO Cadet unit, and the Miyamato Platoon of Noda unit arrived – but without the Hôjin Company, the Hôjin women and children, and the Army Hospital patients.
The Saitô force, which had penetrated through enemy lines, was also out of contact. I dispatched 2nd Lieutenant Itsuki and several soldiers to look for those who were left behind and, if possible, to make contact with the Saitô Force. The headquarters’ group stayed in a dangerous zone three kilometers north of Jaro while waiting for the Hôjin. Soon, 2nd Lieutenant Itsuki returned running out of breath: ‘The enemy tanks are coming. When I was looking for the Hôjin and Army Hospital patients, I met the tanks and came back. At the height of the battle last night, dozens of Japanese and Filipino soldiers had fallen, lying on top of each other.’
On March 19, the Japanese Army was still within enemy positions and in a worst-case situation. Soon, we saw enemy tanks moving on the Jaro-Pavia road, about 200 meters across the river from where we were in the coconut grove. Trucks full of soldiers followed the tanks. After this column, another series of tanks and trucks went towards Iloilo. Enemy planes were flying low in the skies above looking for Japanese soldiers. In due course, we heard a voice saying, ‘Enemy on this side as well.’ We then saw a great march of guerrillas heading for Iloilo City on the Jaro-Zarraga road, about 800 meters away from the grove. There were several US vehicles but others were on foot, and we could also see a large number of guerrillas moving. On our left were the American forces; on the right were the guerrillas. The Japanese Army was surrounded and could not move.
The march of the enemy that began around 8 a.m. went on late into the afternoon. By this time, local residents had joined the guerrillas and there was no end to their procession. We all hid ourselves in the trenches that the guerrillas had dug. Earlier, around 4 p.m., the procession had disappeared and we felt relieved. However, a few companies of guerrillas soon returned and spread out, coming close to where we were. Spreading a white signal panel, they formed a skirmish line 250 meters ahead of us. We could actually watch them being informed of our whereabouts by wireless telephone. At the same time, seven or eight tanks that had been moving towards Iloilo City along the Jaro-Pavia road noisily turned towards us. The low-flying enemy planes almost brushed the coconut grove where we hid.
When the guerrillas started to approach us, 1st Lieutenant Fujii whispered, ‘Do not shoot yet, do not. Let the enemy come close and shoot.’
The Filipino forces began to shoot in unison when they were as close as 200 meters of the grove. Instantly, the order was given, ‘Fire!’ Hence, our fire started all at once. From behind us, the tanks also began to fire. A terrible storm of firepower filled the coconut grove. There was no way of knowing where the bullets would come from. They struck the ground all around, sounding, ‘Puss! Puss!’ I placed my knapsack facing the tanks, grasped my pistol, and made up my mind to shoot and shoot when the enemy came close. I had not expected to remain so calm.
Around 5 p.m., the enemy firing rose to its climax. If it had gone on like that, the enemy would have gotten reinforcements while we would run out of ammunition. Eventually, corpses of Japanese soldiers would cover the coconut grove. As we were fighting with our last burst of energy, a miracle happened. First, the shooting from the guerrillas decreased and, gradually, they retreated. At the same time, the tanks behind turned away – making ‘Guyee, guyee’ sounds – and left towards the direction of lloilo City. The darkness of night fell and the coconut grove regained its stillness. There was no moon. Two bullets dropped off my knapsack and two pairs of my socks inside the pack had holes in them. Candlelights silhouetted the figures of nuns at the Carmelite monastery beyond the river. They must have been having a mass to celebrate of the liberation of Iloilo City. One of the soldiers ground his teeth, saying, ‘Shit! I’ll attack you!’ I told him ‘Stop, Stop’ as I held him back.
Although everyone was tired, I advised the unit commander to make an advance. I felt that there was something ominous about the swift retreat of the enemy and that we should reach our destination as soon as possible. With the Fujii Force in front, we had been moving towards Pavia for seven or eight minutes when enemy artillery started shooting simultaneously at the coconut grove where we had been. The thuds – ‘Dahn, dahn’ – lasted for half an hour without interval. We had narrowly escaped by a hair’s breadth.
Using a compass as our guide, we crossed the Jaro River at about a kilometer south of Pavia and moved west. The US forces continuously launched flares that helped our movement in night’s darkness. However, we sometimes caught our feet in telephone wires laid out by the enemy.
The guerrilla forces that met us near the Carmelite monastery in Jaro on the 18th and 19th of March were those of the 66th Regiment, led by Lieutenant Colonel Braulio Villasis, which had most soldiers coming from Capiz. To our left, by the side of the convent, were members of the 2nd Battalion led by Captain Alejo Alvarez. To our right, on the other hand, was the 1st Battalion led by Major Pantaleon Dumlao. (To be continued)
