As the first fifty wounded reached the deck, back came the planes strafing and bombing. Many of those reaching the deck were killed or further wounded. In a few minutes we got a second opportunity to go up the ladder. Knowing I would have to swim,
I removed my shoes and outer clothing; I discarded them with my medical bag and "our" precious can of Spam. The rungs of the ladder were very sharp and painful to my bare feet. By the time I had reached the deck I was exhausted.
I was suddenly aware that three planes overhead were diving! I believed I must get away from the ship and fast. I ran across the deck toward the nearest shore and jumped off-just like in, the movies. Some five decks below, I hit the water and descended about twenty feet; it was a desperate struggle through oceans of green water to reach the surface and God's good fresh air.
The planes were pulling out of their dives-they had dropped nothing. They had spotted the waving prisoners in the water, circled around, dipped their wings, and disappeared. I saw a piece of bamboo floating in the water, pushing it; I slowly paddled toward shore, about one-half mile away. Lt. Toshino and Mr. Wata, still on the ship, were shooting prisoners possibly the "coup de grace" rather freely.
As we neared shore we were rounded up in a group in waist-deep water; there we remained all day-shivering from cold and fright.
We were in Subic Bay, a large and beautiful harbor, and the site of a large U.S. Naval base (Olangapo). We were surrounded with the jungles and mountains of Bataan. Cy Delong and I decided we would climb up on the sea wall and rest. As we were sitting there watching the group in the water nearby, a Jap guard came out of the woods behind us, his bayonet dripping with blood; he raised his rifle and put a shot straight through Cy's heart, his chest spouting blood.
I wasted no time in jumping into the water and losing myself in the
group.
Twice during the afternoon, Navy planes returned and bombed the ship with incendiaries-producing intense fires and many explosions.
Tennis Court: Toward evening, we were ordered to come ashore, each four prisoners to carry a wounded man. Dripping wet, we were herded through the forest for about one - half mile to a large tennis court on the naval base.
A count showed 1,340 survivors. We had lost 286 men. Again, there was not enough room on the court for everyone to sit down. As the sun went down it became very chilly. There was nothing to eat all day.