#45. The Few and the Proud: Remembering the 4th Marines

Episode 45 – The Few and the Proud: Remembering the 4th Marines in The Philippines – Episode Transcript

Episode Text
Last week’s episode was all about the 4th Marines defending Corregidor Island when Japanese troops landed on it the night of May 5-6, 1942.
That episode (number 44) was about the 4th Marines in general, with brief highlights on a few Marines.
As a follow up to last week’s episode, I want to introduce (or, perhaps, reintroduce) you to several more Marines, who I’ve focused on in previous episodes.

Frank Pyzick
The very first episode of Left Behind told the story of Marine Major Frank Pyzick. When the 4th Marine Regiment arrived in The Philippines (from Shanghai, China), they were stationed at Olongapo Navy Yard, which is on the extreme northwestern part of Bataan Peninsula. Pearl Harbor was attacked a week later.
I choose to start the podcast with Pyzick’s story because he literally announced the war. Here’s a clip from that episode:

[Narrator] It was 3:50 am on Monday, December 8, 1941, at Olongapo Naval Yard, on Luzon Island, in The Philippines.
A motorcycle broke the morning silence as it raced through Olongapo’s Marine Barracks.
A US Marine’s angry voice yelled out well before dawn:
[Marine 1] “Why don’t you get the hell out of here and let us sleep?”
[Narrator] But the rumbling engine isn’t what woke the sleeping servicemen. No, it was Major Frank Pyzick shouting, like a 20th Century Paul Revere, from the motorcycle’s side car:
[Pyzick] “War is declared! War is declared!”
[Narrator] Perhaps part of the novelty that early morning was hearing Major Pyzick speaking at all. A shorter man with a quick walking pace, Pyzick was a 39-year-old career Marine with prominent ears and a penetrating, thoughtful gaze and known for his quiet, retiring disposition.
A gong sounded at Olongapo, waking those who hadn’t heard Major Pyzick’s voice ringing out through the night and causing one Marine of 1 Battalion to complain
[Marine 1] “What kind of new-fangled reveille is this?”
[Narrator] He and his companions tumbled from their bunks, still half asleep. The pajama-clad Marines stood in formation.
Their executive officer, also in his night clothes, explained the early-morning roll call:
[Exec Officer] “Japanese planes have just attacked Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. The United States is at war with Japan.”
[Marine 1] “They got us up for that?”
[Narrator] a Marine complained, unsurprised that war had started. After all, the 4th Marine Regiment had arrived in The Philippines from Shanghai, China, just a week before in anticipation of hostilities with Japan.

A few weeks after that midnight ride, all too reminiscent to me of Paul Revere’s announcement of the British coming, Pyzick had an unusual Christmas Eve.

[Narrator] It was dark by 7 pm on December 26, 1941, the day after Christmas. The temperature at Olongapo probably dropped into the low 80s, so it would have been warm enough without the raging fire.
That fire would have illuminated the retreating form of Major Pyzick as he left the Navy Yard, that he had just destroyed.
Pyzick and a detachment of Marines had remained behind at Olongapo, detonating explosives all over the Yard, sinking a US ship, and destroying as many submarine parts as could be found.
They then doused everything that hadn’t been blown up with fuel and set it all on fire -- an effort to keep weapons, supplies, and more from falling into enemy hands.
And then Pyzick and the detachment, the Navy Yard burning behind them, headed into the Bataan jungle.
The Allied forces on Luzon, The Philippines largest island, were withdrawing to Bataan Peninsula, and wanted anything that might fall into enemy hands destroyed – including Navy Yards and much more.

Another reason I wanted to start with Pyzick’s story is that he saved my great-grandfather’s life. It was the afternoon of the Corregidor surrender, Pyzick and my great-grandfather had just become POWs. The American men had been told to put all their weapons in a large pile. But, turns out, they weren’t thorough enough:
[Narrator] After the firing ceased and American forces had completely surrendered, a Japanese sentry suddenly became vocal with obvious displeasure.
He had found a pistol hidden in a tunnel crevice. It was an oversight by the American searchers.
But the Japanese sentry was suspicious and angry. And suspicious, angry guards could mean punishment or death for the prisoners.
Luckily for the POWs, Major Pyzick knew Japanese. He kept calm and in his quiet voice explained the situation:
[Pyzick] (In English) It was a mistake, an oversight. We did not hide the gun intentionally. It is not meant for Japanese soldiers.
[Narrator] Major Pyzick’s words pacified the suspicious guard.

But the anxious POWs then spent the entire night re-searching the tunnels to make sure there were no hidden weapons. By early the next morning they had found pistols, a couple of rifles, ammunition, some machetes and bayonets, and a couple of hand grenades.
But they now had a dilemma, as my great-grandfather explained in his memoir, read here by his great-grandson:
[Alma Salm] “How were we to get this contraband out of the tunnel and past the guard at the entrance without this coming to his attention? And if it did, God only knows, what possible repercussions would happen.”
[Narrator] It was a real concern because Japanese personnel had already beaten or killed American and Filipino POWs for having Japanese money on their person. (The presence of Japanese money meaning that individual had killed a Japanese soldier, then took the money off the body.) Weapons in the hands of prisoners, obviously, was not something the Japanese would look favorably upon.
So the POWs boxed up the items (carefully handling the grenades separately). Then a small group of POWs distracted the guard by showing him something interesting and talking to him as best they could.

Meanwhile, other POWs carried out small boxes of weapons, mingling in with the continual flow of pedestrian traffic in and out of the tunnel. They dumped the boxes in a pile of weapons and debris outside the tunnel entrance. It was still early and dark, so there were no other Japanese sentries around.

Alan Manning
Among Pyzick’s Marine brothers was a handsome, young Marine Lieutenant named Alan Manning. He brought something special to The Philippines when he sailed from China: his beautiful fiancée, Francis Long.
Francis couldn’t stay with the Marines at Olongapo Navy Yard, so Alan Manning bid her farewell and she found a hotel room in Manila.
On Sunday, December 7, Alan visited Francis. They spent the day together, then said their goodbyes. And then…history intervened:

[Narrator] Frances Long, slept in on Monday, December 8, awakening in her hotel room to a bright, sunny morning. She decided that today it was time to explore Manila.
Emerging from her room, she went down to breakfast but found the hotel oddly empty except for a few Filipino workers rushing around and not paying attention to her. Undaunted, she stepped outside the hotel and took a walk along Manila’s famed waterfront, lined with green lawns.
Small groups of American soldiers surrounded anti-aircraft guns on the manicured lawns as Frances strolled down Dewey Boulevard, Manila Bay on one side of her and fine homes on the other. But the soldiers and guns were a normal sight in Manila, so she didn’t pay much attention.
From overhead, she heard the drone of airplanes. Looking skyward, she shielded her eyes and saw nine planes in perfect formation. And then a loud bang.
Frances whipped around and saw smoke from an anti-aircraft gun, then she was grabbed by the arm and thrown into a ditch.
[Soldier] “Stupid, silly girl,”
[Narrator] yelled an American soldier who now sat on her stomach, preventing her from rising.
[Soldier] “Just like a woman to walk vaguely along the road while war’s going on!”
[Frances] “What? What war?”
[Narrator] Francis cried in response, completely confused.
[Soldier] “Well, what do you think? War’s been declared on Japan! Been all over the papers. Damn women and their plagued empty heads.”
[Narrator] The planes disappeared, and the anti-aircraft guns ceased. The soldier removed himself from Frances, and she got to her feet. He thrust a piece of shrapnel in her face.
[Soldier] “Here! Put this in front of your mirror to remind yourself that there’s a war going on!”

Francis was stranded in Manila with no money and no way to leave. She found a job and ran into an old school friend. They began sharing a hotel room together. And then all US military personnel evacuated from Manila to Bataan. Francis couldn’t go with them because she was a civilian.
So she and her friend Jessie waited…for the occupying Japanese forces to arrive:

[Narrator] On December 30 and 31, Frances and Jessie watched the last of the US military leave the Manila, the midnight sky bright red from explosions and fires of gas reserves, equipment, military bases, and other important targets the US didn’t want falling into Japanese hands.
And then… Frances was alone.
Sure, Jessie and a few other friends were with her, but she was stranded, with no permanent residence and no income, in a foreign city about to be occupied by enemy forces.
Let’s stop for a moment and just try to imagine that situation. I know I would feel scared and abandoned. In many ways it’s hard to imagine the dread of waiting for an occupation army to arrive. Think of all the “What if’s” you might ask yourself – especially as a woman. The anxiety at the truly unknown.
I know I would feel helpless and terrified of an occupation army.
And remember, also, that Francis had been living in Shanghai for a number of years – so she had seen the Japanese as an enemy for a long time, since the Japanese had been invading China since the early 1930s, and intensifying in 1937.
Well, Frances and Jessie remained at their hotel, staying indoors as much as possible. They watched the Japanese army move into Manila on January 1, and then encountered their first Japanese military figure a couple days later when he inspected their hotel room.
“Yankee girls?” he had chuckled on his way out.
Yankee Girls indeed – but what would become of them in an enemy-occupied, war-torn, foreign city?

Francis and Jessie were soon sent to a Civilian Internment camp in Manila.

Meanwhile, Lt. Alan Manning was captured on Corregidor Island and then sent to the Cabanatuan POW camps with the rest of the 4th Marines. While in the camp, LT. Manning found a unique way to keep himself occupied:
[Narrator] Lt. Manning was on Corregidor when the island fortress fell to Japanese forces in early May 1942. He was sent to Cabanatuan POW Camp, where he became somewhat of a star, as my great-grandfather Alma Salm recorded in his memoir:
[Alma Salm] “Over the months we gradually found talent and occasionally on Saturday we held an open-air variety show, weather permitting. The stage was constructed from a few rough planks. Due to an exceptional concession on the part of the Japanese camp authorities, the luxury of a couple of electric lights for our show was authorized for a time.
“Lieutenant Manning, U.S. Marine Corps … [was] among the leading and versatile actors. You should have seen our American ingenuity at its peak when employed in rounding up and fashioning costumes. In portraying a woman . . . corn tassels made an excellent substitute for imitation hair.”
[Narrator] Coconut shells, too, were also useful for portraying women, or so Alma explained.

Brooks Miller & Louis Sontag
A couple days after Pyzick announced that war had begun, two young Marine Privates – Brooks Miller and Louis Sontag -- were stationed at Cavite Navy Yard (just south of Manila) and were among the first of the 4th Marine Regiment to be attacked by Japanese forces.

[Narrator] In the late morning of December 10, 1941, Private Brooks Miller, a 21-year-old California native and a 3-year veteran of the US Marines, sat in Battery F on Cavite Naval Yard’s Guadalupe Pier, watching Filipino workers digging an air-raid trench elsewhere in the yard.
Nearby sat another Private, Louis Sontag, a 23-year-old Marine with an oval face, cleft chin, and questioning, almost curious eyes.
It was 2 full days since the Japanese first attacked The Philippines, 2 full days since Cavite’s commander looked to the morning skies and announced:
[Commander] “The Japs ought to be here any minute.”
[Narrator] But Japanese aircraft had never arrived . . . at Cavite, at least. Airfields all over Luzon (The Philippine’s largest island) had been bombed to oblivion, but the Cavite Navy Yard remained untouched. Ships, apparently, were not Japan’s primary target.
So Privates Miller and Sontag and the 700 other US Marines, as well as the thousands of Navy personnel and civilians working in and stationed at the yard, had become somewhat complacent.
The Marines’ main job was to man the yard’s Artillery Batteries. Artillery batteries are groupings of heavy artillery, such as cannons or rockets or even howitzers. Cavite was defended by several Batteries—some inside and some outside the yard. Those outside the yard had antiaircraft weapons. Those in the yard, such as Battery F on Guadalupe Pier, had .50 caliber machine guns.
Just before noon, the Marines of Battery F, including Miller and Sontag, heard aircraft engines and looked skyward to see more than 50 aircraft in three “V” formations approaching. Their first response was relief.
[Marine 1] “Finally, the Army’s got their replacements coming!”
[Marine 2] “Look at those leaflets coming down.”
[Narrator] But something was wrong. The Marines noticed a dogfight under the formation. Then the yard’s air raid sounded. Sontag, Miller, and several other Marines, searching the skies and roused by the siren, yelled out almost in unison:
[Marines] “Leaflets, hell! They’re bombs!”
[Narrator] The first bombs hit the water of Manila Bay but were soon followed by more accurate bombs that hit the ground, rocking the naval base. Planes crisscrossed the yard, raining down bombs that exploded buildings and started fires.
Unfortunately, Battery F’s machine guns had little effect on the enemy planes. The Battery’s frustrated rangefinder called out:
[Rangefinder] “They’re above the range of our guns, Lieutenant.”
[Lieutenant] “Check again, Private!”
[Rangefinder] “Same, Sir. They’re flying above 21,000 feet. Our guns only reach 15,000.”
[Lieutenant] “Damn!” [Exasperated sigh] “Damn it, fire anyway.”
[Narrator] So Sontag, Miller and their fellow Marines fired their .50-calibure machine guns at the Japanese bombers, while Miller murmured that:
[Miller] “A toy pistol would damage those planes as much as we are.”
[Narrator] The Company’s Captain soon ordered them to cease fire since the bullets did nothing against the planes.
Across the naval yard, off-duty Marines lined up to get ammunition so they could fire on any Japanese Zeros strafing the yard. The lined-up Marines dove for cover as bombs dropped, then got back in line, until another bomb sent them scrambling.
Bombs dropped for two hours. Out-of-control fires raged, destroying everything in their paths—the power plant, repair ships, dispensary, barracks, ammunition, and more.
Civilians and sailors ran to Guadalupe Pier, trying to escape the bombs. When the last Japanese planes left, some 1,500 servicemen and civilians were dead or wounded.
But near Guadalupe Pier, explosions continued to rock the ground. The Battery’s Lieutenant and Captain surveyed the situation.
[Lieutenant] “It’s the Torpedo Warehouse, sir. The fires are exploding the warheads.”
[Captain] “And the fires have trapped us all on this damn pier.”
Surrounded by water on 3 sides and blocked by fire and exploding torpedoes on the fourth, the Marines, civilians, and sailors on Guadalupe Pier were in dire straits.
Thinking quickly, the Captain shouted orders:
[Captain] “Alright, you there, Miller, grab that hammer. Sontag, start gathering wood. Rip up the dock if you have to; we’re making rafts to get these people off this pier.”

Curtis Beecher
Privates Sontag and Miller were soon sent to southern Bataan and then transferred to Corregidor Island.
While most Allied forces withdrew to Bataan, most of the 4th Marines went to Corregidor island. Once on the island, Marine Lt. Col. Curtis Beecher was ordered to oversee his unit – 1st Battalion – constructing beach defenses on the island’s northeastern side. He later recalled:

[Beecher #3] "The task confronting us was appalling. With 350 men there were 3,500 to 4,000 yards of possible landing beach to defend."
[Narrator] But the daunting task didn’t stop Beecher, he got his men right to work. Historian Miller related:
[Miller #4] “Work began rapidly on construction of beach defenses. … The Marines began to build barbed wire barriers, tank traps, bunkers, and trench systems. Working parties began at first light in the morning and halted only at noon for a rest period in place of lunch. The work progressed well, slowed only by Japanese shelling, bombing, and darkness.”
[Narrator] The Japanese bombed Corregidor for 5 days straight, at least 2 hours per day, for the first few days of January. Thereafter through mid-March, they bombed the island only sporadically, allowing 1st Battalion to continue their beach-defense preparations more easily. Let’s go back to Miller again:
[Miller #5] “Tools were carefully guarded. As [one] Lieutenant … remembered, "We took care of our tools like gems." The Marines ran short of sandbags, so discarded powder cans from the coastal artillery guns were filled with dirt and used in their place. Bottles were filled with gasoline to make "Molotov cocktails," to be dropped over cliffs on the Japanese. Empty gasoline drums were filled with dirt and rock and set up as tank traps on trails leading from the beach. Each position was carefully camouflaged for protection and dummy positions were also constructed to attract enemy fire.
“Marines of Company B located Army aircraft bombs, and wooden chutes were constructed to drop the bombs on landing areas. A second line of defense and reserve positions were also built behind the front-line beach defenses, with the hope of eventual reinforcement.”

Beecher had plenty to be proud of with his Marine Battalion’s work ethic. But there were some inhabitants of the island who were not so inclined.

[Morton] “Not all men were brave, and each garrison had its share of "tunnel rats," the taunt reserved for those who never left the safety of Malinta Tunnel. Such men were said to have "tunnelitis," a disease characterized by a furtive manner and the sallow complexion associated with those who live underground. For these men, those outside the tunnel had only contempt, tinged perhaps with envy.”
[Narrator] One serviceman – who obviously wasn’t a tunnel rat – wrote of his feeling toward the men suffering from “tunnelitis”:
[Serviceman] "We say … they will lose tunnel-credit if they are seen outside the tunnel. And we josh them about the DTS medal (Distinguished Tunnel Service) ... if they gather plenty of tunnel credits. As opposed to shell-shocked, we say of confirmed 'tunneleers' that they are shelter-shocked."
[Narrator] An anonymous Corregidor Marine referenced this subterranean life in alternate lyrics for the Marine’s Hymn:
[Hymn] “First to jump for holes and tunnels
And to keep our skivvies clean,
We are proud to claim the title
of Corregidor's Marines.
Our drawers unfurled to every breeze
From dawn to setting sun.
We have jumped into every hole and ditch
And for us the fightin' was fun.
We have plenty of guns and ammunition
But not cigars and cigarettes,
At the last we may be smoking leaves
Wrapped in Nipponese propaganda leaflets.
When the Army and the Navy
Looked out Corregidor's Tunnel Queen,
They saw the beaches guarded
by more than one Marine!”

And that brings us to last week’s episode – when the Japanese forces invaded Corregidor Island and met Beecher’s 1st Battalion Marines face to face. But, since you probably just listened to it last week, I won’t add a clip here. If you haven’t had the chance, it’s the episode just before this on your podcast feed. I’ll also include the episode link in the show notes with links to the rest of the episodes I mentioned.

Well, that’s Left Behind the Scenes for today. Be sure to like and subscribe to that you’re the first to know when I drop next week’s episode – about the very last message sent from Corregidor during the battle and right before the Americans hoisted a white flag of surrender.
Have a fantastic week.