Because the mountains were so rugged, we decided that tile nurses should remain with the Jorgensens to share their fate, along with several American miners' wives, who were joining them-to sit out the war.
The Jorgensens still had telephone service to their friends in Baguio. From them, we learned that many of the Japanese civilian prisoners, whom we had interned at Camp John Hay, when liberated by the Japanese-army, were putting on uniforms, private to colonel, and joining the occupying forces. The invading army had government money, already printed, when they arrived. When the Jap soldiers presented their "play" money to the Filipinos in order to buy food, the natives laughed and said, "No good in this country!" They soon learned that it was backed up by the full faith of the Japanese bayonet. There were many tales of Japanese treachery.
Yet, the Japs pretended to be friendly to the Filipino. They would say, "Look the color of our skin is the same! We promise
you early liberation from the Americans, and in the near future, we give your country independence." The Japs turned their hospitality and hostility on and off like a faucet.
The Japs insisted that the natives take off their big straw hats and bow deeply each time they encountered a Japanese soldier. This was not the Filipinos' idea of independence and freedom. They'd had it much better with the Americans. We later learned that in most every barrio, especially in Mindanao, a Japanese store owner put on a uniform, when liberated, and took charge of the barrio.
Christmas evening, we were informed that Manila had been declared an "open city." U.S. troops were actively moving toward Bataan and Corregidor. We also heard that seven thousand Jap forces had made a landing at Lamon Bay, east of Manila. Major General George Parker's South Luzon Forces were opposing the landing. It was estimated that the Japanese had an invasion force of more than 150,000 men in the Philippines. Rumors were that "Help is on the Way."
Dec. 26, 1941: Telling the Jorgensens and their lady guests, "Many thanks, and the best of luck," we hit the mountain trail, climbing steep paths to high passes and then sliding down the other side. At night we slept near streams and awakened soaked with dew. After several hours of sunshine we would dry out. We quickly learned of some new inconveniences: ants, spiders, tics, mosquitoes, and sunburn. We were invited to sleep in native huts, but the smoke from their open fires was so strong-burning our eyes-that we had to move outside.
In three days we had reached a small village in the valley, Aritao. Overhead a Japanese plane was observing our activities. We decided to push on to Balete Pass, where we located a quaint hotel nestled in the mountains. Here we could get food and lodging. Up to this time we had been paying for any services received, but now with the money running low, we realized we'd have to exist on the mercy of the natives.
In the hotel we met the American owner of the Red Line Bus Co. of Tuguegarao, who was taking his Filipino family to Manila in a big open truck filled with his belongings. He had room for ten soldiers.
Dec. 29, 1941: Early in the morning, our group, sitting amid the baggage in the back of the Red Line truck, was cruising down the highway toward San Jose. A car with a Jap flag on top passed us going north.