Escape From Davao (41 page)

answer.

As Parsons headed to Jimenez—a town fifteen miles further up the coast, halfway between Misamis City and Oroquieta—where he would be staying as the guest of the political y powerful Ozamis family, McCoy and Mel nik were led to a large house surrounded by a massive stone wal and then directed by a sentry through an iron gate into an anteroom outside Fertig’s office. The perceptible “pomp and formality,” said Mel nik, made an impression on McCoy.

“Your Army big-shots do wel by themselves,” he quipped to Mel nik.

When they were final y ushered inside, Mel nik recognized the face of General Fertig as that of a hastily commissioned civilian whom he had seen fleetingly during the last days on Corregidor. Native soap had tinged his sandy gray hair an auburn red, but it was Wendel W. Fertig, a tal and lithe figure in his early forties with a Vandyke beard. Mel nik sensed that Fertig seemed “aloof and preoccupied.” He wore a major’s oak leaves when Mel nik had last seen him on the Rock; he now wore stars on his col ar.

Something seemed awry. An icy glare from Fertig’s blue eyes guided his guests to their seats.

“Chick told me you were here,” said Fertig with cold formality. “What are your plans?”

“We’re anxious to reach Australia,” answered McCoy. “We understand you have communication with GHQ. A radio message might save us a risky, two-month ocean voyage by banca. We’d like to tel General MacArthur that ten ex-PWs from Bataan and Corregidor want to rejoin U.S. forces.”

“If you change your minds,” replied Fertig, “you’re welcome to join my command.”

“Out of the question. We’ve had a rough time. Most of us need medication before returning to duty.

Lord knows what diseases we’re carrying. When can I send a message?”

“Since my equipment is not the best, communication with GHQ is uncertain,” said Fertig evasively. “In fact, we barely arranged the rendezvous that brought Parsons to Mindanao.”

“Then I suppose that sub wil come back for Parsons?” mused McCoy. “When wil that be?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Ten of us would like to be around when it surfaces,” added Mel nik.

“You don’t thumb a ride on a submarine just like that,” snapped Fertig. “GHQ determines who boards the sub.”

By now, their patience was al but exhausted. They had not escaped and journeyed hundreds of miles only to quarrel with someone who, it was plainly obvious to them, was playing war. Without further reservation, they frankly informed Fertig that as professional soldiers, graduates of West Point and Annapolis, they did not consider themselves outranked by seemingly self-promoted ex-civilians, nor did they plan to join any irregular forces commanded by such men. Furthermore, they pointed out his ignorance of military procedure. McCoy had never suffered fools easily, and he could no longer control his temper.

“I’m more familiar with Navy customs than you are,” he barked. “A sub skipper wil rescue any American stranded behind enemy lines. But that’s beside the point. As a commander in the U.S. Navy, I’m entitled to use U.S. facilities to communicate with my superiors.”

Neither officer knew that on May 14 and 19, most likely after the promised prodding from Parsons, operators at Fertig’s station had tapped out two brief messages to GHQ—but not the messages McCoy had sent from Anakan. The second, though error-fil ed, was more detailed:
TO GEN MACARTHUR

FROM WYZB

ELEVEN PRISONERS REPORTED ESCAPED ON NINE APRIL. TEN ARRIVED IN

ORIENTAL MISAMIS AND TWO ENROUTE HERE NOW … RADIO STATES THAT

MISTREATMENT STORIES ARE TRUE. THEY ARE FROM CORREGIDOR AND BATAAN.

WILL FORWARD DETAILS.

But Fertig, for reasons known only to him, decided against sharing that information with the two livid officers. Instead, he chose to maintain his curiously hostile stance, saying, with an air of dismissal, “I’l notify GHQ that you are here and request instructions.”

Back in their bil et, McCoy and Mel nik shook their heads. “We critiqued Fertig’s strange behavior for hours,” said Mel nik. Perhaps Fertig was fearful that they would debunk his phony rank in Australia. Or maybe Fertig, who was in desperate need of officers, harbored hopes that he could forcibly conscript al of the escapees. They were unaware that Fertig harbored a resentment against any American that had surrendered. He had not done so himself and had contempt for anyone who had, regardless of the circumstances. Fertig also believed that anyone who had spent time in a POW camp was damaged goods. He offered a comparable diagnosis for his visitors in his diary that evening: “They are a bit stir crazy.”

In Fertig’s defense, the burden on his shoulders was unimaginably heavy. He suffered from persistent headaches and general y poor health, largely due to the Japanese. The rumors of imminent attacks were growing more believable by the day, hence the emptiness of Misamis City. Fertig did not have the training, ability, or resources to juggle multiple crises. An accomplished mining engineer from Colorado who had been commissioned in the Army Corps of Engineers at the start of the war, he had no military or leadership experience. Fertig was used to working with machinery, not men, and that calculated detachment, an inability to relate to others, was a major detriment to his command. Nevertheless, Fertig deserved substantial credit for successful y uniting various factions under one organizational structure during a period of rampant lawlessness and upheaval.

Fertig would argue that it had been possible for him to do so only because he had assumed the rank of general. He believed that none of the bandits, the renegade guerril a leaders, or the rank-and-file Filipinos who made up the bulk of his forces—even civilians, for that matter—would respect a lieutenant colonel, his rank at the time of the surrender. He had to make them believe that he was “The One” who could deliver “The Aid.” The stars on his col ar, fashioned by a Moro silversmith, had thus far accomplished that goal.

But now, Fertig’s bizarre behavior was due to his own engorged ego. Clyde Childress believed that the escaped POWs clashed with Fertig because “they were not subservient enough to him.” Mired in his own megalomania and with his command crumbling around him, Fertig could not see that the escaped prisoners had not arrived to usurp his throne. They simply wanted to get to Australia. Yet as long as Fertig had a say in it, they were not going anywhere.

The next day, McCoy and Mel nik were given a list of regulations under which they were to live as Fertig’s guests, the most notable of which stipulated that they were free to travel only “within the coastal areas, provided such travel was made by horse-drawn vehicle.” Fertig would claim that this stipulation stemmed from the shortage of gasoline, but it was most likely an attempt at keeping them under his thumb.

It certainly seemed as though McCoy and Mel nik would have plenty of time to try to figure out Wendel W. Fertig, as wel as find a way out of their current predicament. They were, in effect, captives once more.

THURSDAY, JUNE 10–FRIDAY, JULY 2

Misamis Occidental, Misamis Oriental, and Zamboanga Provinces
The bolt of lightning struck perilously close to the
Narra
, mere seconds after the launch had docked in Jimenez. The real shock, however, awaited the two passengers who were now making their way to the Casa Ozamis.

Inside the spacious, adobe-wal ed residence, McCoy and Mel nik, on a rare furlough from Misamis City, were discussing strategy. Ten days had passed and they stil had not received any word from GHQ

or Fertig. And a courier would soon be leaving for Medina.

“I’d like to tel our people about a possible change in plan,” McCoy told Mel nik, “but until GHQ answers, I can tel them nothing.”

They had no idea whether Fertig had sent their message. His promise to do so during their first, inauspicious meeting sounded less than convincing and their most recent conference, a few days ago, had not gone wel , either. McCoy had recently begun to reconsider their original plan, a trip to Australia via sailboat. Though recent news of fierce fighting in the Port Moresby area of New Guinea meant that a voyage south would be considerably difficult, the odds of boarding a submarine hardly seemed better given their relationship with Fertig. One final visit with Fertig, they decided, was in order.

“I hope we don’t have to use this persuader,” said McCoy, patting the .45 caliber revolver in his pocket,

“but we must get word to GHQ.”

At that moment, the door swung open, revealing Ed Dyess and Leo Boelens, just arrived from Medina.

The escapees had been waiting for weeks for word from McCoy and Mel nik, so when Dyess had learned that Childress would be sailing to Misamis City to procure ammunition, he volunteered for the journey to see for himself what was causing the delay.

“So this is how you two look after our interests,” said Dyess as he gazed around the palatial Ozamis residence, with its electric lights, running water, and rotating fans.

When he learned the reason for the protracted wait, he was outraged.

“Hel s bel s! Let’s light a fire under this guy. We’ve been through too goddamned much to be stymied now by jealousy or protocol.”

Returning to Misamis City, al four ex-prisoners strode into Fertig’s office the next day. As Dyess

“stared bel igerently,” recal ed Mel nik, McCoy took his .45 out of his pocket and placed it on his lap.

“GHQ seems slow about answering your message,” opened McCoy. “Maybe you should remind them.

Don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” said Fertig, who could not help but notice the pistol, as wel as the message it conveyed. “But don’t place al the blame on GHQ—our transmitter has been out of order.”

While maintenance records from the Tenth Military District remain lost to history, surviving communication records serve as evidence that Fertig’s reply was a lie. Fertig’s headquarters had been in contact with GHQ regarding the evacuation matter in messages dated June 9–10, and just one day earlier, Fertig noted in his diary that “MacArthur advises that [the POWs] wil be taken out on first opportunity.” In view of his desire to rid himself of them, his decision to not share this information is tel ing about Fertig’s emotional and mental state. Of course, Fertig did have a lot on his mind.

On June 7, Camiguin Island, ten miles from the northern coast of Misamis Oriental, was reported secured by the Japanese. Less than twenty-four hours earlier, Lieutenant Colonel Bowler had radioed that a detachment of 200 enemy troops had taken Talakag. It seemed only a matter of time before the Japanese advanced on Medina, and ultimately, Misamis City. Although the empty streets of Misamis City should have been an early clue regarding the serious of the situation, Fertig did a masterful job keeping this news from the escapees. According to Fertig’s radio operator, Lt. Robert Bal , McCoy and Mel nik had been blissful y unaware of the danger until Bal warned them that a massive enemy invasion was afoot. Al the same, McCoy was confident that he and the escapees would be out of harm’s way when the Japanese showed up.

“I think we’l get an answer this time,” he told the others as they departed Fertig’s office, “and in less than ten days.”

The shrewd cardsharp’s confidence stemmed, in al likelihood, from the ace tucked up his sleeve: Chick Parsons. Though Parsons apparently enjoyed a genial relationship with Fertig, his sympathies lay squarely on the side of the escaped POWs. In al probability, an agreement in which Parsons would intercede on their behalf with MacArthur had been worked out. Parsons did, after al , possess a special cipher—cal ed “Q-10”—which enabled him to communicate privately with GHQ in coded messages that could not be read by Fertig. And Parsons did promise McCoy and Mel nik that he would send a message regarding the prisoners’ escape and plight to Australia during their first meeting in Talakag nearly a month earlier. The officers shared a hint of these continued, covert maneuverings during a visit with Boelens, who remained in Misamis City to recuperate from malaria attacks after Dyess returned to Medina on June 12. “Commd’r McCoy and Mel nick [sic] over,” wrote Boelens on June 15. “Thinks [Parsons] double-cross, has worked.”

It did. Although Parsons was a prime mover, the escapees unknowingly had, once again when they needed it most, received some additional, providential assistance. The strange messages emanating from the Mindanao jungles regarding escaped POWs were initial y viewed with some skepticism by GHQ.

No one, after al , had escaped from the Japanese, much less a large group of POWs. Some in the Al ied Intel igence Bureau, in fact, believed the messages a clever Japanese ruse. Gen. Courtney Whitney, the head of AIB, referred the matter to his deputy control er, Lt. Col. Al ison Ind, for further investigation.

Though the messages were bereft of details (only a few of the escapees were mentioned by name), Ind’s eyes widened when he saw one of the names: “Dyess.” Ind had been Gen. Hal George’s intel igence officer when Dyess was in command of the Bamboo Fleet on Bataan. It was a matter of fate, pure and simple, that Ind was the one at AIB tasked with verifying the startling, static-fil ed messages. “If the man claiming that name was genuine, he would know the answers to some questions I could send,” reasoned Ind. Whitney ordered Ind to proceed and Dyess, in turn, responded correctly, setting in motion a course of events that would lead to Parsons’s crucial involvement.

The long-awaited reply from Australia, however, was bittersweet: Fertig informed McCoy and Mel nik that they—and only they—had been cleared for evacuation. They had planned their breakout, escaped, survived the swamp, and journeyed throughout Mindanao as a team. Each had taken an equal share in the risk, but now the reward was to be for only two. McCoy and Mel nik were furious, but GHQ refused to budge.