PT 32 was preparing for ac- H Ty,
tion against us. I knew we Sh'ftJSVfi fj iS ' 1 i ITTt
would havolo move '
ILLUSTRATION BY ISA BARNETT
action, and I knew we'd have to move fast if we
were going to keep General MacArthur from
losing his life to one of his own boats.
Our crew and passengers yelled and waved at
32 as it pressed on. I swung about to present less
target and, I hoped, a more familiar silhouette.
The PT 32 seemed to rise out of the sea as it
gathered momentum for a hit-and-run punch. I
started to try gunning us out of his path when
I saw.32's wake subside and its bow slip rather
shamefacedly into the sea. We cut back our en
gines and idled there, dazed at our close call.
Everybody was hoarse by then. Everybody but
me, and when I got through telling off the 32's
crew I was hoarse, too. But we had too much
work to worry about what-might-have-beens.
Boats 34 and 35 came in, and we hugged the
beaches hoping we would not be sighted.
The MacArthurs stayed by themselves: Mrs.
MacArthur calm and busy as ever, the General
silent and withdrawn, the child and amah be
wildered and pitifully ill from the sea. The
night had taken a physical toll, and as the day
progressed I guessed we were in for worse.
"The weather will be heavy tonight," I told
the staff officers. "We'll leave at dark, though,
and with luck we'll be at Mindanao by dawn."
Adm. F. W. Rockwell and some other officers
disagreed. "It will be calm just look at the day !
And there shouldn't be any Japs this far out. Let's
leave while we have some daylight."
Before we had left Corregidor, MacArthur had
told the admirals, generals, and colonels that
they'd take orders from Bulkeley, even though I
was only a lieutenant. Anything they had to say
would be advice only. But such high-echelon opin
ion made me doubt my estimate, and I compro
mised. Leaving the 32 boat behind to rendezvous
with a submarine in the area, we roared out of
Cuyo in the late afternoon, hoping for good weath
er for our last dash through open seas.
It was a picture-book sunset, and Mrs. Mac-
Arthur came up for a breath of air. The General
was resting, and for the first time there was a
feeling of security. Then a lookout yelled : "Enemy
cruiser one point on the port bow." There she
was, right off Panay Island.
I caught a glimpse of a grim, low shadow in the
distance, and spun the wheel hard. The sun was
blazing on the horizon, and I raced to get between
it and the cruiser. The choppy sea might obscure
our wake and the sunlight blind the Jap lookouts.
We had to hope so, anyway.
Mrs. MacArthur stood expressionless and
watched our evasive tactics for a while. Then,
with surprising agility, she stepped across the
pitching deck and went below to her son. The
General sat silently in his wicker chair, an almost
academic observer.
For long minutes my job was simply to cling
to the eye-stinging ribbon of sunlight and sea.
A single cloud obscuring the sun could have been
disastrous. Both the sun and the cruiser seemed
motionless, and I began to wonder if either would
ever drop behind the horizon. The lookout kept
reassuring us, "She's holding her course. She
can't have spotted us." At last I noticed a blue
haze gathering around us; the sea was darkening,
too, as night closed in unhurriedly. There were
whispered words of relief from the passengers,
but I didn't share them.
And Now a New Enemyl
The passengers had been too occupied with the
cruiser to notice the seas we were plunging into.
We had guessed wrong about there being no Japs
around, and now, as I fought the wheel, I knew
we'd guessed wrong about calm seas.
By the time we were between the Sulu and
Mindanao Seas, the waves were some 12 feet high.
The PTs' hulls groaned under the blows, and we
wondered if we'd hear the splintering sound of
cracking wood that would signal the end. We
bumped along, though, spotting dim mounds of
land that guided us on our course, but even that
was an ordeal since the salt water had burned our
eyes until they were only slits. We had not slept
in two days, and the passengers clung helplessly
to the rolling decks, many not caring whether
they lived or died. Now it came down to naviga
tion: if I had plotted our course right, we would
be safe at Mindanao at dawn. If not, I wondered
if either men or boats could keep going.
A gray light began to filter down around 6 a.m.,
and I saw the top of a point of land. As the dawn
light came further over the sea, I knew naviga
tion had beaten the odds and we were on target.
Somebody said: "Rouse the General. We've
made it God knows how!"
The Ramrod Carriage As Always
MacArthur had wrapped himself in a field coat
and tried to sleep. Now he meticulously shook salt
spray off his famous gold-braid cap and began to
show the first signs of impatience. On a long
wooden dock at Cagayan, officers were waiting for
us, their faces as anxious and gray as ours.
Mrs. MacArthur came from her cabin, unsteady
now but still very much occupied with her house
hold. She told me the amah was helpless, so I went
below to carry young Arthur to a car.
There, wasn't time for lengthy farewells. The
General had to be whisked off before anybody
realized who he was. The ordeal had left the 62-year-old
man drawn and weary, so I was surprised
to see him a few minutes later on the dock. The
old ramrod carriage was as always, and so, too,
the sonorous voice and piercing eyes. He had
only a few words for the PT crews, but we aren't
likely to forget them:
"You have taken me out of the jaws of death,
and I won't forget it. God bless you."
Then he walked off, a jaunty spring coming
back in his step. He has remarkable powers of
recovery, I thought wearily, and, as history
proved, that was a darn good observation.
family Weekly. May 27, 1962
S