"Thank you God!" became my frequent and fervent prayer.
Shortages: The first shortage of which I became aware was water. The deep well in camp required diesel fuel or coconut oil to run the engine-to pump the water to a central water tower, from which it went to one outlet in each group and each mess hall, and several outlets in the hospital. Since fuel was always in short supply, there was usually a shortage of water. By standing in line for an hour, I obtained my first canteen of water (which could only be used for drinking). Baths were obtained by standing under the eaves on rainy days. Fortunately the rainy season was beginning.
Chow: The evening meal was my introduction to the diet. I had been warned that I would only need my canteen cup for dinner. After waiting in a long line, I received one half cup of lugao (a thin watery rice soup) and some foul tasting greens, a very skimpy meal compared to those I enjoyed with the guerrillas chicken, eggs, pork, fruits, and vegetables.
As the days went by, the diet did not improve just lugao and greens day after day. On a rare occasion a small amount of mongo beans or corn might be added.
About once a month, a carabao (water buffalo) was killed and added to the soup for from 6,000 to 12,000 captives, after the Japs had removed all of the choice cuts. We believed ourselves lucky when we could find a shred or two of meat in the soup.
Our captors reasoned that slow starvation would make us too weak to resist authority or to attempt to escape. To further insure our servility, the Japanese divided us into groups of ten "blood brothers." If one attempted to escape, the other nine would be severely punished. Recaptured escapees were paraded around camp by American guards for twenty four hours and then used for bayonet practice by the trainees and Koreans.
First Night: During the first night in camp, I spent several hours walking under the stars, just thinking. Life had been much better with the guerrillas; I was free to go many places not occupied by the Japs. I ate much better.
But what was done was done! There was no question that the captives in Cabanatuan P.O.W. Camp needed all of the medical care I could give them. From that point of view, I reasoned that I was in the right place. .
I wondered if Judy could see the same stars that I could the hunter and his two dogs, and the Southern Cross. When we lived in Garden Court (near Nichol's Air Field), we used to delight in watching the moon and the stars shimmering in Manila Bay. It seemed a lifetime ago.
Apparitions: The next morning, some three hundred pathetic, skeletonized human beings, Americans, lined up in front of Group II Dispensary, all hoping for miracles. Several of the patients recognized me from Manila, where I had treated them at Sternberg Army Hospital, or the dispensaries of the 57th Infantry Regiment, or the 14th Engineer Regiment at Fort McKinley.