#26. “At Gunpoint if Necessary”: Two Men’s Harrowing Escapes from Bataan

Episode 26 – Fernandez and Weeman – Episode Script

Episode Hook/Story Intro
[Narrator] Mariveles Harbor on the southern Bataan peninsula was chaotic in the midnight hours of April 8-9, 1942.
In the bay, barges, boats, and anything that could float was being commandeered, if needed, and loaded with people, supplies, and equipment for evacuation.
On land, explosions rocked Bataan as equipment, ammunition, or other military installation that couldn’t be moved was being destroyed.
The detonations rumbled the ground beneath Sergeant Felipe Fernandez – a 25-year-old Filipino native with a handsome square face, full lips, and ears that stood out just a bit. Those explosions lit the midnight sky with an eerie orange glow. Above him, bombs burst like fireworks at an all-American Independence Day celebration.
Sergeant Fenandez was desperate, agonizing to find a way that the 28 men under his command could escape the approaching Japanese army.
Suddenly, a young Private ran up to him, breathless:
[Private] “Sir, Sir, there’s a barge leaving for Corregidor Island. It’s got an anti-aircraft gun on board, but I swear there’s enough room for us.”
[Narrator] Sgt. Fernandez sighed with relief; his prayers had been answered.
[Felipe] “Gather the men,”
[Narrator] He ordered the private.
[Felipe] “We’re boarding that barge – at gunpoint if we have to. We’re going to Corregidor.”
[Narrator] His men quickly gathered, and they hurried down the dock – heading away from the approaching Japanese army and toward the barge and the relative safety of Corregidor Island.

This is Left Behind.

Podcast Welcome
Welcome to “Left Behind,” a podcast about the people left behind when the US surrendered The Philippines in the early days of WW2.
I’m Anastasia Harman, and I tell you the stories of WW2 servicemen and women, civilians, guerillas, and others captured by Japanese forces in The Philippines. My great-grandfather Alma Salm was one of the POWs, and his memoir inspired me to tell stories of his fellow captives.
Today’s episode is the second of 2 episodes about the last-minute escapes from mere hours before it fell to the Japanese. We’ll focus on 2 servicemen involved in those escapes: Filipino cavalryman Felipe Fernandez and American sailor Lynn Weeman.
So far, the Left Behind episodes that feature both an American and a Filipino have MUCH more information about the American serviceman than about the Filipino servicemen. Because it’s difficult for me to find details about Filipino servicemen’s lives and service.
But…this episode reverses that. Thanks to Victor Verano, a friend of Felipe’s, I have access to Felipe Fernandez’s memoirs, which are invaluable. In fact, those memoirs offer so much information that it’s been tough to pick out what to include and what to, sadly, leave out. On the flip side, finding information about American Lynn Weeman has been difficult. Thankfully, my great-grandfather’s memoir includes details of Weeman’s story.
In fact, without either of these memoirs, I wouldn’t be able to tell these men’s stories. Because historical records and newspaper articles are sparce for both men.
And, with that, let’s jump in.

POW’s Life Story
Before the War
[Narrator] Mariveles Harbor on the southern tip of Bataan Peninsula in The Philippines is a world away from the western shores of Lake Erie, where Lynn Clayton Weeman grew up.
He was born April 10, 1913, in Monroe, Michigan, which is about 40 miles south of Detroit. Lynn was the third of 8 children born to Warner and Gertrude Weeman, who were themselves both born in Michigan, as were their parents.
Lynn grew up on the family’s farm and, in 1930, graduated from Ida High School in the town next to Monroe.
But working the land wasn’t Lynn’s future. In September 1931, the 18-year-old enlisted in the US Navy as a seaman. Interestingly, his naval training also took place in the Midwest — at the Great Lakes Naval Training Center, near Chicago and on Lake Michigan.
The young sailor joined the crew of the USS San Francisco on February 10, 1934 — which was also the day the San Francisco was commissioned (or, placed in active service). That makes Weeman part of the heavy cruiser’s original crew.
Heavy cruisers were designed and built for ship-to-ship surface warfare. But Weeman didn’t see much, if any, battle during his 6 or so years on the San Francisco. Instead, Weeman sailed the Caribbean and the western US coast, participating in training assignments and other operations.
In 1939, he and the San Francisco crew sailed entirely around South America on a goodwill tour.
The farmer’s son brought his hard-work ethic to the Navy, and Weeman worked his way through the naval ranks. By the late 1930s, he was a Watertender 1st Class, responsible for tending the fires and boilers in the steam-engine room.
Sometime in 1940, he became Chief Machinists Mate. In this role, he maintained and repaired heavy equipment on board the ship. The former Midwest recruit was no longer an enlisted sailor. He was a senior noncomissioned officer who had progressed quite far in his career.
His new rank came with a new ship assignment — to the submarine tender USS Canopus.
The Canopus sailed the eastern Pacific, especially between The Philippines and China, carrying food, fuel, torpedoes, supplies, maintenance equipment, and even relief crews for various US submarines.

[Narrator] Felipe Fernandez was born August 13, 1916 in San Nicholas, a city on the main Philippine island of Luzon, about 125 miles/200 km north of Manila. He was the 4th of 6 children born to Isidoro and Marina Fernandez.
He was raised in San Nicholas and in 1935 graduated from high school. About a year later, he joined the Philippine Scouts 26th Cavalry. The Scouts were a part of the US Army, made up mainly of Filipino servicemen. As a brand-new recruit in a cavalry regiment during those pre-war years, Pvt Fernandez
[Felipe] “was free to go on horse riding during weekends so I spent most of my weekends riding through the cavalry ranges, showing up my horse to the girls in the barrios and just plain riding and improving my horsemanship.”
[Narrator] Among the girls he met was the daughter of a fellow soldier. Her name was Emilia, and she was 10 years younger than Felipe. Felipe wrote that by late 1941,
[Felipe] “We were very well in love and planned to get married.”
BTW – these quotes are from Felipe Fernandez’s memoir. Felipe was a non-native English speaker, and English was one of 4 languages he spoke. So, there are some non-standard English phrasings and word usage. However, I’m using his words, read as he wrote them, because I believe it’s important to keep his words and writing voice.
[Narrator] Felipe spent the last years of the 1930s advancing his soldiering skills and studying various military topics, including military law. He advanced in rank, becoming a troop leader and then the assistant troop clerk. Some of the other, older, Scouts had issues with his fairly quick rise in rank. But those advancements were due to Felipe’s hard work and determination, and when he was 23 (so around 1939 or 1940), he became a corporal.
And when Japanese forces attacked the Philippines on December 8, 1941, Corporal Felipe Fernandez oversaw a Machine Gun Platoon in the 26th Cavalry’s Troop E, which was lead by Captain Johnny Wheeler (who I highlighted in Episode 11). Felipe was stationed at Ft. Stotsenberg, which was right next to Clark Field, where the Japanese first attacked.

During the War
[Narrator] Felipe and his fiancé Emilia spent Sunday December 7, 1942, together.
[Felipe] “Emilia and I had a nice time. We talked about a lot of things such as [when] we are married and no longer under the scrutiny of many prying eyes; where we are going to do our housekeeping; how many children we are going to have and all sorts of things relating to our future family life.
“Emilia’s mother cooked a delicious meal for us that I was so full so I stayed till the wee hours.”
[Narrator] Thus, their long day together and late night meant that Corporal Fernandez did not hear Ft. Stotsenberg’s early-morning cannon sounding the alarm about the Pearl Harbor bombings. Later that morning
[Felipe] “When I arrived in the barracks for reveille I found that the troop was gone. In a few minutes the rest of the troop who were left behind assembled in the day room for further instructions. The supply sergeant issued weapons and ammunitions and ordered them to join the troop in ‘Pangpang’ a nearby barrio where Troop “E” 26th Cavalry was camped to minimize casualties in case the Japanese will bomb the post.”
[Narrator] And, as we know, the Japanese did bomb that day – all but destroying the US air corps at Clark Field. Felipe recalled:
[Felipe] “We fired at the planes with our rifles, pistols and even pointing at the planes with our bayonets as if challenging the pilots to come down and fight us like men. It seems funny but such was the feeling of men who were desperately angry so with blind courage fought with anything to defend themselves. On that day seven planes were shot down by the caliber 50 machine guns mounted on scout cars.
“In the afternoon I mounted my horse and rode to Wardville to see if Emilia was still at home. Upon arriving I found that they were gone. I searched the vicinity of the barrio but I could not find them.”
[Narrator] Felipe assumed Emilia and her family had evacuated the area with other civilians fleeing the attacks on Clark Field and Ft. Stotsenberg. A few days after that first attack, the 26th Cavalry abandoned Ft. Stotsenberg. A week later they camped near the barrio where Emilia’s grandmother lived.
[Felipe] “I checked the house of Emilia’s grandmother if she is there and sure enough she with her mother and the other children are already there. I told Emilia that conditions are bad and that we might be fighting a shooting war in a few days. I told her that I will always be thinking of her and that I will always pay her a visit whenever I can.”
[Narrator] But, visiting . . . was not to be.

Just a week after seeing Emilia, Sgt Fernandez was part of the 26th Cavalry’s stand against the first Japanese ground invasion of the Philippines, on December 21. I covered details of the 26th actions that day in episode 6, about his fellow cavalryman Dan Figuracion.
4 days later, Christmas Day 1941, Corporal Fernandez’s Machine Gun Platoon was ordered to create a defense line on the east bank of a nearby river. The main Allied army was attempting to stop the Japanese southward advance along the main road. Fernandez’s platoon’s job was to hold a defensive line at the river, so that Japanese forces couldn’t outflank the Allied army. (In other words, Fernandez’s Machine Gun Platoon needed to make certain the Japanese didn’t just “go around” the defensive line on the main road.)
Felipe recalled:
[Felipe] “Just as the sun began to set sending its rays like the rafters of a huge lean-to coming from the western sky, the Japanese advance snipers began firing their rifles towards our direction. At first there were a few scattered shots then there were many more and then a lot more but they sounded very far from where we were at. Since the rays of the sitting sun were impending our view and since the firing sounded very far, I told my men to hold their fire.
The sky was unusually clear and the light of the moon was mellow reminding me of those nights during my younger days when my loving father and I sat on rice paddies and my father relating to me local folklores such as the dancing of the nymphs and fairies that peopled our valleys and woodlands. I was absorbed in my deep thought of my loving parents who were just four kilometers to the east but too far for me to embrace them goodbye. Suddenly a mortar shell fell about three yards in front of me which luckily landed in the depth below. This woke me up from my daydreaming and as I look to the front, I saw numerous Japanese crawling like giant hermit crabs on the river bed below.
“I alerted my men and gave them orders to fire at will. The gunners fanned their guns from side to side mowing down the Japanese like cutting a field of cogon grass with a huge scythe. After the first sweep by my gunners, many Japanese stopped crawling but many more kept on coming.
“I urged my men to keep firing [but some guns went quiet]. I went to check what was happening and found that some guns stopped firing due to over heating of the barrels causing ruptured cartridges. I tried to help keep their guns going.
“While going from position to position giving my men some encouragement, Lt. Leisenring kept shouting at me to be careful but there was no time to seek for cover. My men who have just gotten familiar with machine gun in our last two actions became expert with the weapon. I said to myself that I will gladly go with these men in any battle at any time.
“After a while some of the Japanese got through with carabaos (water buffalo) protecting their advance. Some attempted to scale the 20 foot bank in front of us but my gunners tilted their guns and killed most of them. Others who were about to get over the bank were butted down by the riflemen who were interspersed with the gun emplacements. The Japanese fought with everything they had but my men did the same and I think they are braver and better than their enemies. They even rolled boulders and throw rocks to thwart the Japanese’ attempt to scale the embankment.
“At about two o’clock past midnight everything was suddenly quiet. I gathered four men and told them to find out what was happening below. They came back and reported that there were many dead Japanese and carabaos on the river bed.”
[Narrator] Thus, under Fernandez’s direction, Troop E’s Machine Gun Platoon was able to stop the Japanese’s flank attempt. After the war, Fernandez received the Silver Star, the US military’s 3rd highest decoration for valor in combat, for his actions that night.

Despite Troop E’s success, the overall Allied attempts to stop the invading Japanese from continuing south toward Manila were not successful. Even as Troop E holding that defensive line along the river, US General Douglas MacArthur had already begun ordering all US forces to withdraw to the Bataan Peninsula.
It was a fighting withdrawal, and Troop E suffered many casualties.

While the 26th was fighting their way to Bataan, sailor Lynn Weeman and the USS Canopus sailed quietly to the peninsula’s southern tip.
The 1920s-era ship had been in Manila Bay when the Japanese attacked. Needing to remain at Manila to tend to the submarines patrolling the islands’ waters, the USS Canopus was docked at Manila Harbor until late December, when ordered to sail to Bataan.
The crew did so, anchoring in the small Mariveles Bay on Bataan’s southernmost point. The ship remained there for the next three months, at first tending to the submarines. When the submarines were ordered to leave Philippine waters, Canopus couldn’t follow, due to the huge Japanese naval blockade surrounding the Philippine Islands.
So the old ship, which was sometimes referred to by Bataan servicemen as the Can-o-piss, remained in Mariveles Bay. That unfortunate nickname was especially unfair because despite being bombed and incapacitated, the old ship acted as a vital machine shop repairing and creating weapons and equipment the Allied armies. And it also had the only ice cream maker on Bataan.
Episode 14 describes the bombing and subsequent way Canopus hid in plain sights and an abandoned hull, while inside the machine shops buzzed with activity. As a Machinist, Weeman would have participated in that hoax and worked to repair and create equipment for the fighting men on Bataan, which included Corporal Fernandez and the 26th Cavalry.

The Philippine Scouts 26th Cavalry played a vital role in the defense of Bataan, and Fernandez was involved in many battles and maneuvers. However, as you know, things did not go well for Allied forces on Bataan, and conditions became dire in early April when the Japanese – newly invigorated with additional weapons, equipment, and soldiers – launched an overwhelming offensive on Filipino and American troops.
The Allied armies quickly crumbled, and within days the enemy was overrunning Bataan. On the evening of April 8, 1942, General Edward King – who was over all Allied forces on Bataan – prepared to surrender Bataan. (I cover Gen. King’s surrender in Episode 24.)
At 10:30 pm that evening, the USS Canopus Captain Earl Sackett received a message from military leaders on Corregidor. He wrote:
[Sackett] “Early in the day, the Commandant had told us that no Navy or Army forces would be evacuated to Corregidor. However, at ten thirty that night, he telephoned that General Wainwright had decided to accept on the island . . . the Naval forces at Mariveles. These favored units were to augment the beach defenses of Corregidor, thus continuing their fight from a new set of foxholes.”
[Narrator] Corregidor, which the servicemen affectionally referred to as “The Rock,” was an island fortress about 2 miles offshore of the southern Bataan Peninsula. The Rock was already overcrowded with American and Filipino defenders, but Wainwright determined that they could allow around 2,000 more men onto the island. That’s 2,000 of the nearly 80,000 men on Bataan. So, it was barley a drop in the bucket – but escaping to Corregidor meant everything to those – like Machinist Lynn Weeman -- who would escape the fate of the Bataan forces.
But, before they could escape to Corregidor, the Canopus crew had work to do. Captain Sackett continued:
[Sackett] “Each man was to be limited almost to the clothes on his back while on the "Rock", but we took large supplies of equipment which would be useful in defense. Machine guns, rifles, ammunition, food, and fuel were all on the "Urgent" list. All through the night, long lines of men scurried from storage tunnels to the docks, carrying the precious supplies to evacuation boats, heedless of exploding dynamite all around them, and paying no attention to frequent reports that Jap troops were rapidly approaching.”
[Narrator] My great-grandfather Alma Salm, who was also a Canopus crew member, wrote:
[Alma Salm] “We worked furiously most of the night to load the lighter boats with miscellaneous stores and small equipment to take with us after learning that the fall of Bataan was imminent and our forces perhaps would not be able to hold out until morning.”
[Narrator] Captain Sackett added:
[Sackett] “Evacuation of the Navy forces had to be completed before dawn brought over more swarms of bombers or an advance guard of Jap tanks. Without defense shelters which were being destroyed, the sailors would be helpless.”

[Narrator] All across Bataan, the Army and Navy began destroying everything they didn’t want to fall into enemy hands: Equipment, artillery guns, the naval base at Mariveles, docks, ammunition dumps, fuel stores, TNT warehouses, and even ships.
For hours, explosions rumbled southern Bataan and flames shot high above the town, lighting the sky for miles. An observer on Bataan reported:
[Observer] “With bursting shells, colored lights, and sprays of rainbow colors. Never did a 4th of July display equal it in noise, lights, colors … or cost.”
[Narrator] Captain Sackett recalled:
[Sackett] “That wild and horrible, yet weirdly beautiful night must be imprinted forever in the memories of all who lived through its spectacular fury. For miles back on the slopes of the mountain, burning Army ammunition dumps lighted the sky with showers of rocket-like streamers, while the ground shook with heavy detonations of exploding ammunition.”
[Narrator] And my great-grandfather Alma Salm described:
[Salm] “Our troops beyond the ridges were destroying all ammunition and supplies in the wake of the fast moving Jap advance. The result was not only the almost continuous thunderous detonations but a huge conflagration which illuminated the surrounding country. This, together with gigantic explosions from the heavy dynamite charges in the string of tunnels, filled the air with heavy acrid fumes and smoke which lay like a pall over the placid waters of the bay. The little light from a waning moon gave it all a very eerie appearance.”
[Narrator] The bombs bursting in air gave proof that the US flag would not be there come morning.
Around 9:30 pm, as if nature herself had a stake in the battle, a 7.6 earthquake shook Bataan, adding to the chaos and confusion – for those who noticed the earthquake over the detonations continually rattling southern Bataan that night.

Among the things destroyed that night was – the USS Canopus herself.
After evacuating the crew and unloading as many supplies as possible, crew members backed the old ship, a fond mother of sorts to her 500-man crew, into the deep waters off of Mariveles Bay.
Captain Sackett wrote:
[Sackett] “The Canopus seemed reluctant to go, but her crew could still take pride in the fact that the Japs had been unable to knock her out -- she was still able to back out under her own power to deep water. There she was laid to her final rest by the hands of the sailors she had served so faithfully.”
[Narrator] An observer described the ship’s last moment with more graphic detail:
[Observer] “She seemed to leap out of the water in a sheet of flame and then drop back down heavily like something with all the life gone out of it.”
[Narrator] It was a sad moment, but the crew rested easier knowing she couldn’t be salvaged and used by Japanese forces.

[Narrator] The 26th Cavalry was not one of the units designated by Wainwright for Corregidor. The cavalry leader, knowing that Bataan’s surrender was eminent, gave his men a choice: They could surrender as a unit or make for the jungle and the hills. By this time, only 250 of the original 800 men remained. Most of the cavalrymen chose to head into the jungle, rather than become POWs.
However, 25-year-old Felipe Fernandez, who was by this time a Sergeant and in command of the Troop B Machine Gun Platoon, doesn’t seem to have been with the main body of the 26th Cavalry. He had 28 men under his command and, on the night of April 8, led them south to Mariveles – by foot or whatever mode of transportation they could find. The cavalry had given up their horse mounts 3 months earlier.
Fernandez recalled:
[Felipe] “I asked myself what was next. Rumors were flying around that surrender is eminent. I then assembled my soldiers and asked them what they prefer to do. Tech Sergeant Viray said that if we could commander a ‘banca’ a dug out boat, and paddle eastward, he could find the mouth of a river leading us to where he was born. There we could lay quiet until we will be able to fight again. The younger ones would like to go north through the Zambales mountains and try to locate the camp of Colonel Thorpe and join him as guerrillas. Both were sound but we don’t have food and low in ammunitions and if we get into a firefight, we will all get killed or captured.
“It was a decision that has to be made and I don’t have a ready answer. I never was in this position where the lives of my men will depend upon the decision that I make. I prayed and cried silently, asking for someone who could give me the orders to obey, but there was nobody. It is apt to me. Finally while I was agonizing with what I was to tell my men Pvt Manliclic came running breathlessly and telling me that there were two barges where soldiers were loading antiaircraft guns to go to Corregidor. My problem was solved.
“I assembled my men and told them we were not going to surrender but all of us were going to jump on to the barge—at gunpoint if necessary.
“It was almost midnight that evening when I led my platoon to the barge, dejected, tired and hungry. My men meekly followed me like a bunch of sheep marching to the slaughter house. There was enough room so we gathered together on the left rear corner of the barge.
“As soon as the barge took off, the soldiers of the antiaircraft battery opened some of their emergency rations and began to eat. Seeing that we had no food and just watching them, some came over and shared their food with us. My emotions took the better of me which made me cry. I was so happy to see that people are willing to share what little they have with those who have not.
“When we were nearing the [Corregidor] dock Japanese planes were up in the air and as soon as they spotted us they started bombing and strafing. Some soldiers jump into the water and swam to the dock. Those of us who had heavier load just curled to the side of the barge hoping that we would not get hit. A few of the soldiers were hit some seriously and some suffered superficial wounds.
“The antiaircraft guns in Corregidor came to our rescue by firing at the planes. One of them was shot down and they left. As soon as we debarked from the barge another group of planes came flying over trying to inflict more damage but we were already on land and there were ditches and fox holes where to hide. Finally the siren sounded ‘all clear’ so we got out of our hiding places. We were told to go to Malinta tunnel and report to the Provost Marshal.”
[Narrator] Fernandez and his men were assigned to a platoon of the 4th Marines defending the Corregidor beaches. When they arrived, their new sergeant asked Fernandez:
[Sergeant] “What unit y’all from?”
[Felipe] “26th Cavalry, Sir!”
[Narrator] Fenandez responded.
[Sergeant] “Well, by God, you’re in the Marine Corps now and we sure can use you guys.”

While Fenandez was leading his men to safety on Corregidor, sailors Lynn Weeman and Alma Salm were aboard the last motor launch to leave the Canopus before she was scuttled.
Instead of heading for Corregidor, they first went to the Mariveles docks to pick up the last men of the Navy demolition squads that had been blowing up Navy stores around Mariveles earlier that night. Captain Sackett explained that
[Sackett] “As soon as the tunnels were cleared of useful supplies, their entrances were blown in by dynamite charges to prevent the Japs from using them or the equipment left behind. Just before dawn, all boats had finally been loaded, and the little fleet started off for Corregidor.”
[Narrator] Weeman and Salm sat near each other under the canopy of their motor launch, watching the explosives and talking above the deafening noise.
[Salm] “Suddenly the whole hillside in front of us erupted in a tremendous explosion that was so great it almost tore us loose from the boats.”
[Narrator] Salm described. Their launch was one of the last remaining in the Mariveles Bay. Sackett wrote:
[Sackett] “Evidently, gasoline drums stored in one of the tunnels had been broken open when the entrance was dynamited, and fumes in the corked-up passage had built up a gigantic explosive charge.”
[Narrator] The eruption hurled boulders half a mile into the bay, but 3 Canopus launches, including the one Salm and Weeman’s were on, were much closer than that. Here’s Salm again:
[Salm] “The upheaval took place directly in front of us about two hundred yards away. In addition to the mighty concussion, it hurled huge boulders directly into the harbor. The calm waters in the immediate vicinity were whipped into turbulence from the fury of it all.”
[Narrator] One of the boats was hit by a massive boulder that sheared off the stern, sinking instantly. Its 3 occupants struggled in the tumultuous water until the third launch could pick them up.
Salm and Weeman’s launch wasn’t as lucky. Salm remembered:
[Salm] “I had been in brief conversation with Warrant Machinist Lynn C. Weeman when the fireworks from the hillside broke loose. This unexpected detonation hurtled massive chunks of rock down through the canopy of the little launch. I was sitting only three feet from Weeman, but he never spoke again. His head had been practically severed by the falling stone missiles, while I only felt a few small pebbles no larger than peas rain gently on me.”
[Narrator] Warrant Machinist Lynn C Weeman would have turned 29 – the very next day.
The young sailor was one of 4 men killed on that launch. Nine others were wounded. Salm and the other non-wounded sailors offered what first aid they could, but the injured men had to wait more than an hour until reaching safety of Corregidor for medical attention.
Warrant Officer Lynn C Weeman’s body was laid to rest in one of the island’s battlefield cemeteries.

Sgt. Felipe Fernandez’s platoon and the Canopus crew were assigned to the Corregidor beach defenses. I’ll go into details about the defense of Corregidor in future episodes, but in general, Corregidor was a repeat of Bataan. The island was under siege for the next month, enduring constant attack by enemy aircraft and artillery. Food, supplies, weapons and ammunition dwindled.
On May 6, 1942, Japanese forces landed on Corregidor, and by the early afternoon the island had surrendered. Felipe Fernandez was now a Prisoner of War.

After a short time on Corregidor, the Filipino POWs were sent to Camp O’Donnell, to join their fellow Filipino servicemen captured on Bataan. (American POWs from Bataan were also housed at O’Donnel but were transferred to another camp around the time Fernandez arrived.)
Camp O’Donnell was an awful place, where disease ran rampant and Filipino servicemen died at a rate of 400 per day during the camp’s earliest days. Among these men was the father of Fernandez’s fiancé, Emilia.
During the last week of August, the Japanese mass released Filipino prisoners from O’Donnell. The Japanese needed their soldiers and resources, especially food, for other duties than guarding thousands of Filipino POWs. Felipe Fernandez was among the released men.
He explained:
[Felipe] “my first order of business was to look for Emilia. When I left Emilia in December 1941 at her Grandmother’s house, I told her that we will meet in that house when I have a chance to come back. I did not expect Emilia to be able to wait for me where we agreed to meet but I know Emilia that she is going to fulfill her promise even if she is going to get killed in her attempt to fulfill a promise.
“As I knocked at [her grandmother’s] door, I was surprised to see Emilia just the way she was when I left her – slim, young and beautiful. She let me in and we hugged each other and started to cry with tears of happiness.”
[Narrator] By this time, Felipe was 26 and Emilia 16. They had not seen each other for 8 months and had had no contact. They got married the next day in a small ceremony by the town’s acting mayor.
[Felipe] “Our reason for settling for this kind of marriage was to be absolved from the prying eyes of neighbors and to have a piece of paper to prove that I did not kidnap her in case we go out of town since she was very young.”
[Narrator] Well, that paper was perhaps needed, because within months, Felipe and Emilia moved to live his parents in San Nicholas. Trains and vehicles got them within 20 miles of his home, but then they had to walk the remainder
[Felipe] “The distance is nothing to me but for my wife who had been pampered in her youthful age, 20 miles was a life time journey. Fearing that Emilia might get sick, I carried her across all the rivers not letting her touch the water. … We arrived at my parents house at almost midnight. I woke my parents up and when they saw their only daughter-in-law, my mother and sisters hugged her and held her like she was the most precious thing they owned. My sisters hurriedly prepared food for us and while we were eating my mother was still hugging my wife. Oh! Everybody loved her, this little fragile thing in their midst.”
[Narrator] Felipe’s father gave the young couple a house and a piece of land as a wedding gift. From what I understand the house was in town and the piece of land was at least a short distance away.
[Felipe] “One day, a group of Filipino Constabulary [who were working for the Japanese] asked me if I knew of any guerrilla group hiding around my place. I told him that I was just released from the prisoner of war camp and I don’t know of any guerrilla. This made him sadistically mean and ordered his men to seize me and bound my hands behind my back. We arrived at an abandoned house where other prisoners were held [by the Japanese].
“They [made us stand, mostly submerged,] in the river until about ten o’clock [at night] then they brought us in for interrogation [about the guerillas]. If you don’t know anything there was nothing to tell. The more you deny knowing anything, the more they torture you.
“In the morning they moved us to their temporary headquarters. To go there we had to cross the river where they soaked us the night before. On the other side of the river were civilians, mostly women, looking for their men folks who had been missing. One of them was Emilia, my loving wife. As soon as I [crossed], Emilia asked me if I saw her husband. My face must have been badly altered from beating if my new bride could not recognize me. I told her to go home, and as soon as she heard my voice, she went berserk and started crying. She recognized my voice but not my face. She hugged me so tightly that it took a tall sergeant to get us separated. As soon as we parted Emilia looked up to the sergeant and recognized him. Emilia told him that she is the daughter of [a soldier he knew], and that I am her husband and that she is alone with me in this part of the country. Sgt. Cacayan, remembered Emilia’s father so he told her that she better go home and that he will see to it that I will be released very soon.
The following day we were moved to the school house in town. We were seated on the bottom floor of the building and one by one they brought us upstairs. They beat you up and when they were tired beating, they submerged your head face down in a basin of water, long enough to make you gasp for air.
“I said to myself that when my turn came I will fight back and one of us will get killed and I will try to be sure that it will not be me. The two prisoners before me were brought up stairs then I began preparing myself for the ordeal. I prayed to God to look over my wife with favor. I cried for help hoping that some miracle will happen to save me since I have not done anything wrong.
“All of a sudden Sgt Cacayan appeared at the doorway. He told the Japanese sergeant that he vouch for me as a good person and asked that I be released. He said that he will be responsible for my good behavior. [The Japanese Sergeant] summoned me and had me released.
“From that time on I promised to myself that the only good Japanese or corroborator is the one who is dead. It was unchristian but we are humans and not saints. Instead of being a peaceful ex-prisoner, I made myself elusive to avoid getting recaptured.”
[Narrator] Felipe attempted to find and join a guerilla group, but when that didn’t work out,
[Felipe] “I quietly stayed in town doing and observing anything that may help the cause. I even went to a Japanese school to learn their language and how to read their writing so that I might be able to understand what the Japanese were apt to.”
[Narrator] At these classes, he met a man working with the Filipino underground – a network of civilians attempting to bring food and other supplies to guerillas and POWs. Felipe joined this man on several underground operations.
[Felipe] “It was a happy adventure but dangerous so when Emilia found out how dangerous it was, she begged me to stop. I reverted to my quiet living, working the land and be with my wife.”
[Narrator] In late 1944, rumors began spreading that US forces were returning to liberate the Philippines. Felipe suspected his family’s homes were in the direct path of the probable Japanese route of withdrawal and prepared the barn on his land to house his family in case they had to evacuate.
The night after he finished preparations, Felipe
[Felipe] “peeped out of the window and I saw many Japanese soldiers marching towards the east. I knew that they were withdrawing through the route that I predicted. I bundled Emilia, dropped by the house of my parents and sisters and told them. that it was time to leave. They too were ready so we did not lose any time. As soon as I reached the farm, the town behind me looks like a huge bonfire. The Japanese did not want to leave anything worth salvaging so they burned everything.”
[Narrator] From their position, Felipe could see US planes bombing and strafing the Japanese location as well as the US Army tanks and soldiers coming into San Nicholas. A couple days later, he went back to town.
[Felipe] “As we approached the area somebody perfectly concealed behind a rice paddy about ten yards to our front challenged us. He cautiously told us to put our hands up and ordered to advance carefully towards him. When we were close enough to make conversation, I told him that I was with the 26th Horse Cavalry and that I am a paroled prisoner of war. He took us to his Corporal who was sitting with his machine gun crew under the Lomboy tree.
After telling the Corporal that I was a platoon Sergeant of a Machine Gun Platoon during the war he showed me his machine gun and asked me to identify it. I told him that his was similar to the machine gun that we used while fighting the Japanese which is a Browning, air cooled, caliber 30 machine gun, mounted on a tripod. It is bolt operated and fire automatically by holding back the trigger. In combat we normally fired by burst of three or single shot to preclude the enemy from spotting its smoke. The gun is stripped by removing the back plate ************* The corporal stopped me and said he is convinced.”
[Narrator] The corporal had Felipe report to military control and soon Sgt Fernandez was part of a military police unit stationed in Manila, where he served out the rest of the war.

After the War & Legacy
[Narrator] After the war, Felipe remained in the US Army and attended Officer Candidate School, where he became a 2nd Lieutenant. In 1949, he had to leave Emilia and their growing family for training in the United States, and then served in the Korean War.
Next came a tour of duty in Okinawa, Japan, but this time his family—after 3 years apart—joined him. In the late 1950s and early 1960s, the Fernandez family relocated to California, where Felipe served at Fort Ord near Monterey.
In 1964, he and his family were transferred to Fort Wainwright in Fairbanks, Alaska. The average December temperature in Manila is 86 degrees; in Fairbanks it’s 9 degrees. I have to imagine the climate was quite an adjustment for this native Philippine family.
In 1967, 51-year-old Captain Felipe Fernandez retired from the US Army, after 30 years of service. Not ready for “retirement life,” Felipe went to work for the US Federal government and in 1978 graduated with a BA in Management from Golden State University. After 20 years with the Federal gov’t, Felipe retired for good.
He became active in the Philippine Scouts Heritage Society, an organization created by former Philippine Scouts to keep alive the heroic legacy of the elite Filipino forces. He attended many Scout reunions and re-enactments, and I have pictures of those events on Facebook and Instagram. (Links are in the show notes.)
Felipe also enjoyed travelling and was known for his sense of humor. He and Emilia often took long walks. A newspaper noted:
[Obit] “When they could no longer physically handle those long walks, Felipe would then drive the family car around town, often stopping at the “working” wharf in Monterey Bay for a stroll or simply to park in the best disabled person’s spot, “my space” he called it, and look out at the ocean for a good long time.”
[Narrator] In 2012, Felipe Fernandez was diagnosed with cancer. He passed away on March 9, 2013, at his home in Seaside, California. Nearly 5 years later, his beloved wife Emilia joined him. They rest together at the Mission Memorial Park in Seaside.
After Felipe’s death, his granddaughter – a reporter for the Manila Standard in The Philippines – shared some of her grandfather’s words regarding his service in World War 2:
[Felipe] “I lost many friends in that horrible struggle. Are the sacrifices we gave worth it? Did we really change the lives of later generations for the better? It is up to you, for whom we fought for, to show that our sacrifices are not in vain”

[Narrator] Those are words we can all live by, regardless of our home country. And poignantly remind me of the sailor we met earlier in this episode – Machinist Lynn Weeman.
After the war, his remains were exhumed and identified by his dog tag. It’s a good thing his dog tag was with the remains, otherwise he likely wouldn’t have been identified because his skull was missing. Thus dental records, the standard post-war identification method, could not be used.
Today Lynn C. Weeman buried in the Manila American Cemetery -- Plot A, Row 1, Grave 188.
He is reportedly the second person from his hometown of Monroe, Michigan, killed in action during World War 2. And he is the namesake for the Lynn C Weeman American Legion Post (#514) in Ida, Michigan.

I usually find many newspaper articles about the American men and women I research. I’ve found only 1 for Weeman – a 2-line notification of his death among a long list of Michigan men killed during the war.
Which makes me even more grateful for my great-grandfather’s memoir. Without it, I couldn’t have told Weeman’s story. (And I wonder if any other document tells of Weeman’s death.)

Today’s stories show us two heroic men who sacrificed many things in the fight for freedom. They were two of many such men – including the some 75,000 soldiers remaining on Bataan that evening of April 8-9, 1942.
The next day they would all become prisoners of the Japanese – who would force them onto the atrocious Bataan Death March.
More on that next time.
This is Left Behind.

Outro
Thanks for listening! You can find pictures, maps, and sources about Weeman’s and Fernandez’s stories the Left Behind Facebook page and website and on Instagram @leftbehindpodcast. The links are in the show description. If you’d like to know more about the 26th Cavalry’s experiences on Bataan, I suggest the book “The Doomed Horse Soldiers of Bataan”, by Raymond G Woolfe, Jr.
If you enjoy this podcast, please share it with a friend. And consider leaving a review wherever you listen to podcasts. Spreading the word about this podcast lets me continue sharing these amazing stories.
Left Behind is researched, written, and produced by me, Anastasia Harman.
- Voice overs by: Paul Sutherland, Jake Herenberg, Tyler Harman, and Mike Davis.
- Special thanks to Victor Verano for sharing Felipe Fernandez’s story and memoir, without which, I could not have told Felipe’s story.
- Dramatizations are based on historical research, although some creative liberty is taken with dialogue.
I’ll be back next time with the story behind one of Bataan’s most iconic photographs.

Sources
Alma Salm, “Luzon Holiday,” typewritten memoir, transcript in possession of Anastasia Harman.
Capt. Early L. Sackett, Commanding Officer of Canopus during the Bataan Campaign, “The Last Voyages of The USS Canopus,” chapter 9, online at axpow.com, accessed 20 February 2023.
Felipe Fernandez, memoir, digital files, shared by Victor Verano.
“Killed in Action,” Life Magazine, July 5, 1943, page 25, online, Google Books, accessed 20 February 2012.
Lynn Clayton Weeman, “On Eternal Patrol—Lost Submariners of WWII,” info submitted by Paul W. Wittmer, http://www.oneternalpatrol.com/weeman-l-c.htm, accessed 20 February 2012
“Michigan Casualties, World War,” database online, entry for Lynn Clayton Weeman, Ancestry.com, accessed 20 February 2012.
“World War II and Korean Conflict Veterans Buried Overseas,” database online, entry for Lynn C. Weeman, Ancestry.com, accessed 20 February 2012.
“World War II Navy, Marine Corps, and Coast Guard Casualties, 1941-1945,” database online, entry for Lynn Clayton Weeman, Ancestry.com, accessed 20 February 2012
“World War II and Korean Conflict Veterans Buried Overseas,” database online, entry for Lynn C. Weeman, Ancestry.com, accessed 20 February 2012.
“World War II Navy, Marine Corps, and Coast Guard Casualties, 1941-1945,” database online, entry for Lynn Clayton Weeman, Ancestry.com, accessed 20 February 2012.