80th Commemoration of the Liberation of Manila

Martin Meadows was kind enough to forward some photos and a letter from Mr. Aaron Key, past president of the Elks of Manila lodge 761, involving the 80th Commemoration of the Liberation of Manila which was held at the Manila American Cemetery and Memorial on 22 February 2025. This event was one of many commenorations which occurred in the Philippines and United States this year.

2025-Commemoration-Liberation-Manila-photo-1

Message and photos from Aaron Key [click any photo to enlarge]:

Hello Martin,

I cannot possibly do justice in recapping the events that occurred here this past week. I would simply be grasping at words to do justice. It was an overwhelming success. A chapter was written in the legacy of human triumph.

The returning heroes were greeted by the Ambassador and a delegation at the airport.

On Feb 18th, at the Manila Elks Lodge, with an audience of Veterans, I read your letter to the returning WWII veterans Corporal John Hodges of Virginia age 101 and Yeoman Second Class Arthur Grabiner of New York City. They were joined at the Lodge by Filipino Guerilla fighter Prospero Evangelista aged 97. He fought with Captain Ramon Magsaysay, the future 7th President of the Philippines.

To our Liberators:

It is not really possible to fully express my gratitude for what you and your fellow GIs did in liberating the Santo Tomas Internment Camp and its nearly 4,000 prisoners some 80 years ago. I was a scrawny 14-year old, 69-pound youth at that time. Hardly a day passes when I do not happen to recall that literally life-altering day — or rather, night — and the inexpressible thankfulness, happiness, and relief that flooded over us internees. Even now, eight decades later, I still tear up (really) when I try (but fail) to describe that indescribable night.

At the risk of exposing my pretentiousness, I would like to quote two well-known writers. Cicero, the renowned ancient Roman statesman, philosopher and orator, said that gratitude is “the greatest of virtues”; and that fable-spinner Aesop said “Gratitude is the sign of noble souls.” Well, I certainly don’t know about all that; and, frankly, I am rather dubious about such overblown claims. But of one thing I am certain. Gentlemen, it is incredibly impressive that you are in attendance at this extraordinary Commemoration. I am truly honored to say to you (unfortunately at a distance) and all your fellow Liberators, past and present: you have our undying gratitude — you have never been, and you will never be, forgotten. [Martin Meadows]

2025-Commemoration-Liberation-Manila-photo-8 2025-Commemoration-Liberation-Manila-photo-9 2025-Commemoration-Liberation-Manila-photo-2

Prospero recounted the night Magsaysay gave an order to light a signal fire near the beach but did not reveal the reason. The fire signaled awaiting American forces off-shore in the night. It was a signal preparing for the American landing. They had returned. His voice cracked with joy as he told the story.

Yeoman Arthur Grabiner told of dodging kamikaze planes, zigging and zagging and sometimes not being successful in doing so. He witnessed the burial at sea of 1500 sailors at one time. An event of the nature no generation should ever endure again nor bear in the their memories for 80 years.

Corporal Hodges who land in Zambales and fought through Zig Zag pass said that “they had a job to do and they did it”

They had a full week of meetings, lectures, tours and ceremonies. They imparted their messages to youth, Scouts and University students. They made national headlines, shook hands with President Marcos, inspired Veterans who came after them and Arthur sang New York New York at the Elks lunch.

2025-Commemoration-Liberation-Manila-photo-3 2025-Commemoration-Liberation-Manila-photo-4 2025-Commemoration-Liberation-Manila-photo-5

On Saturday, in addition to the President of the Philippines, members of his cabinet, the U.S. Ambassador and the Head Admiral of US Indo-Pacific Forces, four of their former Filipino comrades from WWII, a thousand others came. The spirits of those interned were stirred.

I took note of one of the several banners honoring the fallen. Mildred Mae Harper whom we exchanged about recently. Her gleaming smile is eternal.

Mildred Mae Harper

[Photo of Mildred Mae Harper, killed in the Japanese shelling of Santo Tomás Internment Camp on 7 February 1945. She was about 17-years-old.]

The height of my day was when Leslie Murray was reunited in particular with Corporal John Hodges. As it turned out he made it all the way from his landing at Zambales to the grounds of Santo Tomas where he recalled being ordered to disperse beer and chocolate. When he and Leslie exchanged he asked her if she was one of the ones they gave the beer and chocolate to. She confirmed she received the chocolate but not the beer. She gifted them with coins from the Filipino American Monument Endowment (FAME). 

2025-Commemoration-Liberation-Manila-photo-6 2025-Commemoration-Liberation-Manila-photo-7

So much occurred that day, this week with pivotal effects to follow. An eternal torch was passed forward to the testament of human triumph.

Thank you for your inspiration Martin. As noted, I can’t provide the due tribute to this week and the Commemoration Ryan orchestrated on Feb 22 by Ryan Blum.

A 1000 words, 1000 moments recalled and 1000 photos…and one would only be at the start of the story.

Many thanks to Aaron Key and Dr. Martin Meadows for their contributions.

Editor’s note: My uncle, Alvah Don Johnson of the U.S. 31st Infantry Regiment, is one of the many victims of World War II buried in the Cemetery.

Limerick: 80 years since Liberation Day by Martin Meadows

Santo Tomas Internment Camp Liberation, 1945

80 years since Liberation Day
(3 February 1945 – 3 February 2025)

The Ubiquity of Iniquity or STIC’s Lasting Impact by Martin Meadows

PREFACE: A FOREWARNING? The Pearl Harbor attack of 7/8 December 1941 created uncertainty as to the future among Philippine residents.  They included my parents and me, for we were unaware that an event of nearly a decade earlier (ca. 1933) in effect had foreshadowed our wartime fates.  That event occurred during a visit to Baguio, the country’s (nearly) mile-high summer capital, roughly 150 miles north of Manila.  One day we drove the 40 or so miles from the Pines Hotel (where we usually stayed) to Mount Santo Tomas, which is about a half-mile higher than is Baguio.  (Described in Wikipedia as a “potentially active” volcano, it last erupted in 1641.)  We parked at the base of the mountain and hiked up the steep earthen trail to the Lodge at the top (there was no road to the top then).  We had intended to return the same day, but rain, accompanied by premature darkness, compelled us to stay overnight at the Lodge rather than hike down the rain-slick trail in the dark.  We had no idea, of course, that our somewhat ill-starred escapade augured that eventually we would be involved, next time unwillingly, with another place also named after the 13th-century theologian Saint Thomas Aquinas, aka Santo Tomas.  Nor did I know that the unpleasant version of Santo Tomas would affect my entire post-1941 life.

View of Baguio City [Note:   From our overnight stay at the Lodge, I remember several details: a blazing fireplace (something new to me); a cat that I played with; sleeping in my father’s shirt in lieu of pajamas; and a fabulous view of a clear sunrise, with clouds floating by below our elevated location, and Baguio in the distance, as it is in this photo from the mountain top.]
Continue reading

My Three Years in a Quandary and How They Passed (in STIC), by Martin Meadows

My 10 Years in a Quandary, Benchley

I. INTRODUCTION.  In 1936 an instant best-selling book was published with the title My Ten Years in a Quandary and How They Grew.  Title and book were typical of the noted humorist, author, film actor and columnist Robert Benchley (1889-1945).  As it happens, his was one of the many books I read during my three-plus years as an honored civilian guest of the Imperial Japanese Army in Manila’s Santo Tomas Internment Camp (STIC) during World War II (WWII).  But obviously I did not foresee that, some eight decades later, I would modify Benchley’s book title to use for myself.  My story herein is the first of two accounts tracing the Camp’s impact on me, first during and then after WWII.  This first recollection is intended to answer one of the typical questions asked of ex-internees about life in a Nipponese prison camp.  (Unlike Benchley, though, my primary objective is not to elicit amusement.)

[Note: Thinking back to Nipponese instructions on preparing for Manila internment, I briefly considered the title “My Three Days in a Quandary — and How They Grew”; but I assumed that some potential readers would not would not understand the reference to the instructions that said to bring with you to the Nipponese processing of enemy aliens ‘enough food and clothing for three days.’ ”.]

Thanks to record-keepers extraordinaire Cliff Mills and Maurice Francis, my written answers to several of the aforesaid typical questions — necessarily centered only on the STIC scene — have been preserved and disseminated.  They have dealt with such matters as Camp living conditions, interactions with Nipponese guards, and the paucity of personal hygiene items (e.g., toilet paper).  The question to be dealt with herein is hinted at in the above title — specifically, what did I do (in effect, what was it even possible to do) to pass time during more than three years of enforced detention?  (And I had even more leisure time than did most internees older than I was, for when first interned I was too young by one year to be assigned a job.  Even when old enough, I was on an infrequently-utilized grass-cutting detail, composed of fellow teen-age males and equipped with dull and rusty scythes).  

The broad answer to the time-passing question is simple — while of course nothing out of the ordinary could be done, nevertheless many of the usual pastimes of life in the mid-twentieth century were available to the denizens of STIC both adults and non-adults. This narrative discusses the various pastimes chiefly from the perspective of the Camp’s non-adult members; the adults can speak and of course have spoken for themselves, in innumerable forums over the past eight decades.  As for non-adults, the concern here is with STIC youths — defined here to range from about 10-15 years in age — as opposed to younger children.  By way of preview, youths had available leisure activities chiefly involving sports, non-athletic games, and reading — plus their purely personal diversions from Camp life.  And a final introductory note on numbers — the Camp’s population of around 4,000 (sometimes more, sometimes less) included about 700 persons under the age of 21, and of that number roughly half fell into each side of the divide between 12 and 13.
Continue reading

A WWII Manila Prison Camp’s Maestro of Mirth, by Martin Meadows

THE DAVE HARVEY STORY
[Guest star Danny Kaye]

Little Theater Under the Stars. 1946, F. Stevens
[“The Little Theatre Under the Stars,” illus. from Santo Tomas Internment Camp, 1946, by Frederic H. Stevens]


PREFACE. The purpose of this Preface is to call attention to matters that otherwise might be overlooked in the main text, despite their relevance to this work.  Some of the following points might not seem to be worth mention, but they affected this study in one way or another, and they merit attention on that score.

    (1) Substantively, much of this narrative has been made possible by the invaluable research efforts of Cliff Mills of Philippine Internment renown; Maurice Francis, U.K. honcho of The Gang; and CPOW head Sally Meadows — all of whom, it should be noted, have similarly contributed to several of my other STIC articles.  Without their various and innumerable findings, this mini-biography would not have gotten off the ground (“mini” because it is a bit shorter than the typical printed volume).

    (2) Procedurally, it is essential to emphasize that, as far as is known, the subject of this chronicle did not write anything about himself, and nobody else has written about him either (other than brief comments).  Thus I was free to decide how to deal with the available material, published and online, unconstrained by existing works about the biographee.  Needless to say (he said needlessly), I handled that material in a completely objective — if not objectionable — manner (in my opinion).

    (3) To contextualize this mini-biography, it is essentially a spin-off from, and in one limited section a continuation of, an earlier article, one that led me to recognize the need for much more information on the biographee.  That article’s title, “STIC Signature Songs (and Sources),” will be cited herein as SSSS.  [Meadows (a)] 

    (4) Now to footnoting (mandatory for ex-academics).  Or rather, in this case, “text-noting” — names/titles and pages (if any) of sources are placed within the text; the sources in full are listed at the end (though not in scholarly-journal format).  Substantive comments are placed either at the ends of paragraphs, as [notes], or in SIDEBARS for less directly relevant material.  For online sources, n.p. (no page) and n.d. (no date) sometimes are necessary.  To simplify setup of the lengthy bibliography, italics are omitted there.

    (5) An episode of purely personal significance was a direct outgrowth of this account.  Initially it was to be included herein as a SIDEBAR, but instead it has appeared separately; its mention here is to call attention to its indirect relevance and online existence.  [Meadows (b)] 

    (6) Finally, an explanation is in order for the broad scope of this work, which, for the sake of thorough coverage, extensively discusses the various relationships (direct and indirect) between the biographee and several of his most consequential friends and/or associates.  My guiding assumption was that doing this study properly required doing it as exhaustively (and exhaustedly) as possible.  So much for preliminaries.

INTRODUCTION. During its 37-month existence in World War II (WWII) under Japanese control (1942-1945), Santo Tomas Internment Camp (STIC) in Manila usually contained about 4,000 civilian prisoners, mostly Americans, along with other Allied-country nationals, mostly British.  Almost all of those (non-infant) internees knew and respected one man in particular — a veteran professional showman named David Harvey MacTurk.  Few if any other internees matched his popularity. And since the end of WWII, likely thousands more, relatives and friends of former internees, have learned about him, for his renown remains unmatched within the internee community.  It derives from the fact that he had served as the Camp’s Mr. Entertainment — an iconic performer who had presided over and dispensed most of the programs that immeasurably buoyed the morale of his fellow internees throughout their captivity.  Thus he was admired by almost all of his fellow internees — almost, because he made no secret of his belief that the prisoners had been betrayed and deserted by the U.S. government, a view that did not sit well with those who disagreed with him.
Continue reading

A Spooky STIC Short Story, by Martin Meadows

As I was searching for something else — which the computer had caused to join the “missing (online) persons” list), I ran across this ancient item from about a decade ago. It happens to be seasonably fashionable at the moment, and it is hereby posted to observe both Bat Appreciation Week (October 24-31) and Halloween.

Halloween graphicThe approach of Halloween occasionally brings reminders of a Halloween-type incident that occurred in STIC. In fact, it was actually in October (of 1944), because I clearly remember that U.S. bombing in the Manila area had started a few weeks earlier — on September 21 — and therefore a total blackout was in effect, which was strictly enforced. (I noted the occasion in my diary, but unfortunately it has long since been lost, as the result of a complicated series of events.) In any case, regardless of the exact date, the event developed as follows.

It was late in the evening, and a blackout was in effect, as noted, due to the bombing. Most internees were in their beds by that time, somewhere around 10 p.m. I had been talking with friends, as we often did, on the first floor of the Main Building, until we broke up and went our separate ways to our respective rooms. I started up the front stairs, accompanied by a couple of friends, who lived on the second floor. I then continued up the stairs alone — slowly, as it was an effort by late 1944 — heading for my room on the third floor. I had reached the landing between the second and third floors, had turned on the landing, and was just starting to climb the last flight of stairs to the third floor.

Suddenly I heard a strange noise, loud enough to catch my attention, but not overly loud. It is hard to describe, sort of a sliding/grinding/whirring sound; it was coming from above me and to the right. I looked up toward the wall (which bordered the west patio), where a window was located; it was about midway between the landing and the third floor, far out of the reach of any individual, whether inside or outside of the building. I recall that it wasn’t overly bright that night, and I just checked online on that — there were two full moons that month, on October 2 and October 31, so it wasn’t too bright during much of the month. But enough starlight coming through the opening clearly showed that the window was sliding downward, though fairly gradually — it was not loose or falling.

Given the situation — it was very dark, I was alone, and no one was anywhere nearby that I could see or hear — I froze in my tracks, eyes fixed on the moving window. Then, believe it or not, the window actually began to slide upward, making the same odd sound. Panic stricken, I snapped out of my stupor and, starvation or not, it seemed as if I covered the last 15 or so steps in a couple of leaps and/or bounds, though of course that was not possible. Nobody was around — everyone was in bed by then — so I quickly got in bed myself, not even bothering to use the sink that our room was blessed with, let alone use the men’s bathroom at the other end of the building. It was quite a relief to be “safe” in the midst of some 60 or so slumbering roommates.

The next morning I looked closely at the window in question, of course, but it appeared “normal” and I could see nothing out of the ordinary; and there was no ladder on the outside when I checked. I never did find out what might have caused the episode, and I never told anyone about it, either then or later, because it sounded too weird to have occurred, and thus I was afraid of being mocked and/or accused of having had hallucinations, or perhaps of just making up the whole thing. Such reactions obviously may ensue now, but that would no longer bother me — not at this point. Any suggested explanations of the event would be welcome.

WWII STIC Icon Helps Solve a Mystery, by Martin Meadows

Preface. This brief explanatory note is for those who may be unfamiliar with two terms in the title. STIC is the acronym for Santo Tomas Internment Camp, a WWII (World War II) prison in Manila, Philippines, established by the Imperial Japanese Army. STIC housed several thousand Allied nationals (American, British, etc.) for 37 months during 1942-1945. And one other important point needs emphasis: much of the following account has been made possible by material unearthed by ace internet sleuth Cliff Mills.

To clarify at the outset, the internee icon of the title is STIC’s late great Master of Entertainment, David Harvey MacTurk, better known to one and all as Dave Harvey. Additionally, Harvey was not personally involved in solving the cited mystery. So, just what is his connection to this brief offshoot from a much broader and much longer work? As to the latter, I have been working on what I believe will be the definitive Harvey biography— if only because it will be the first and the only one in existence. In the process, I have completed a portion of the narrative that at best is only tangentially related to the biography as a whole, for it deals with a matter of mainly personal interest. (It is one of many such matters I never thought to ask my parents about, when that was still possible.) I decided to present the aforesaid portion separately from, and before completion of, the biography for several reasons: to thereby spread awareness of the biography; in so doing, perhaps to also induce interest in it; and, more practically, to shorten the finished product. And now on to the mystery and its (perceived) solution.

Continue reading

Tennis Great’s link to the Philippines, by Martin Meadows

Dwight F. Davis on TIME magazine coverThanks to internet sleuth nonpareil Cliff Mills, an interesting but little-known connection has come to light between the Philippines and an American tennis giant. The latter was none other than Dwight F. Davis (1879-1945), who was Governor General of the Philippines from 1929 to 1932. (Unfortunately, during his tenure I was a bit too young to hit with him or to otherwise benefit from his court expertise.) Davis ranks as a tennis giant in large part because he was the founder of the Davis Cup international tennis competition. The extremely brief — actually, skeletal — outline of his record below to introduce this topic is from Wikipedia; it is followed by two 1929 Manila newspaper articles (unearthed by Cliff Mills, himself a tennis enthusiast); and then by somewhat more detailed coverage of Davis’ background and history to round out this historical footnote.

Continue reading

The Bar Mitzvah of a WWII Axis Internee by Martin Meadows – reposted

INTRODUCTION. The first order of business for a memoir such as this is to try to anticipate, and to answer, the most likely questions it may raise, in order to minimize any potential uncertainties and/or misconceptions. This Introduction seeks to do just that, dealing first with the title and then broadly with the memoir as a whole. Possible queries about the former, unlike the case with the latter, can be foreseen with specificity, for obviously they will pertain to the title’s individual words and terms; thus each of these will be clarified in turn. [Note: Anyone interested mainly in the event itself and not in terminological issues may wish to proceed directly to the next section, titled “Essential Prerequisites.”] [Note: First, though, a point of procedure to note — to avoid footnotes, only author’s names (and page numbers if relevant) are included in the text; full titles of cited works are listed at the end.]

To begin with, even the innocuous and seemingly inconsequential word “The” requires clarification. That is because, if “A” had been used instead, the phrase “A bar mitzvah” might have conveyed the erroneous impression that there were other bar mitzvahs that took place in similar circumstances. But there is absolutely nothing on the record to indicate that anything of the kind ever happened. Indeed, the mere idea of such a thing no doubt would evoke — from those familiar with the historical record — reactions of astonishment, incredulity, and/or even mirth. The fact is that, on the contrary, “during World War II, Jews interned in concentration camps were unable to mark their symbolic transformation[s] from children into. . . adulthood” with bar mitzvahs. [Quoted from Haaretz.com ]

As context for understanding the term “bar mitzvah,” virtually all societies observe so-called rites of passage; these involve ceremonies indicating that certain individuals or groups are eligible, usually based on age, to pass from one status to another, often defined in religious terms. The bar mitzvah — Hebrew for “son of the commandment” — is the Jewish rite of passage, or “symbolic transformation.” Normally observed with a ceremony in a synagogue, it signifies that a male has reached the age of 13, or religious adulthood, and thus is now qualified to fulfill all the commandments of his religion. (For females, the equivalent term is “bat mitzvah” — a relatively recent innovation, dating to 1922.)
Continue reading

The Contrasting Cases of American and Japanese-American World War II Internees by Martin Meadows

This article was originally published in the CPOW newsletter, Beyond the Wire, in September 2021. Additional articles by Prof. Meadows are listed following this piece.

INTRODUCTION It has been more than 76 years since I was among the nearly 4,000 American and other Allied-country nationals who were liberated from Manila’s Santo Tomas Internment Camp (STIC) on 3 February 1945. Despite that passage of time, however, I continue to harbor two grievances concerning the U.S. coverage of two related but separate and distinct subjects linked to World War II (WWII): (1) The American public’s virtually total ignorance of the subject of Japan’s WWII American civilian captives, or internees; and (2) the sharp contrast between that lack of coverage and the extensive (and continuing) amount of attention accorded in the U.S. to the subject of U.S. government treatment of WWII Japanese-American internees. This analysis will discuss each grievance in turn, focusing on the main reasons for the contrasting nature of the coverage, and on how that difference contributed to the failures and successes, respectively, of the American and the Japanese-American efforts to achieve restitution. Lastly, this study will examine certain neglected aspects of the subject at issue in the concluding section.

Before proceeding, several distinctions and clarifications should be cited, for the sake of accuracy (and to forestall potential criticisms); but brevity dictates that not all of them will be used here. They include the following: (1) In the context of this survey, the term “Japanese-American” is not always appropriate, as not all those of Japanese descent in the U.S. and in the then Territory of Hawaii were U.S. citizens during WWII. (2) The word commonly used to include all diaspora ethnic Japanese, regardless of their citizenship, is Nikkei; a term used herein, though not comparable, is “Japanese-American community.” (3) Because not all Japanese-Americans were interned, it would be inaccurate to refer to them — although I do so — as “internees” (as distinguished from military prisoners, or “POWS”). (4) To simplify, instead of using the terms “former internees” or “ex-internees,” they will be referred to simply as “internees.” Finally, a note to emphasize that my grievances are not personal; this survey is the outcome not of prejudice, antipathy and/or bitterness, but rather of an examination of the historical record.
Continue reading