Mike Guardia (8 page)

On 14 August, Vicente Bernia paid another visit to the camp. Volckmann used the opportunity to ask for a guide to the north and for any more updates on other Americans in the area. Since his involvement with the Fassoth’s, Bernia kept a close liaison with other USAFFE personnel in the area. He told Volckmann that Peter Cayler was just outside of Natividad. Thorp’s hideout lay in the foothills of Mt. Pinatubo. In response to Volckmann’s request for a guide, Bernia offered himself. But first, Bernia insisted that they rest for a few days at his home in Gutad. It was a small town of no more than 2,000 souls, and Bernia’s house—one of several that he owned—was the dominant structure. Volckmann, Blackburn, Bruno, and Emilio were treated to beds with clean linen and generous rations of chicken with rice. Tasking a friend to feed his new guests, Bernia informed them that over half of the American prisoners from Bataan had died in the Japanese prison camps.
¹⁰⁹

On the morning of 18 August, Bernia guided the three to Cayler’s location north of Natividad, where they remained for the next two days. Volckmann reports that the Jincos had taken extremely good care of him. The family boasted five daughters who were all experienced chefs. With the daughters serving five meals a day, Volckmann and Blackburn gained back much of the weight that the dysentery, malaria, and combat fatigue had stolen from them. Volckmann felt stronger but Blackburn’s health remained fragile. He had spent considerable time at Fassoth’s recovering, and although Blackburn remained enthusiastic about the mission, the fever attacks had visibly diluted his strength. Nonetheless, even despite Volckmann’s suggestion that they wait longer, Blackburn was eager to move out.

Cayler and his men—seven in total—were a jovial bunch. Although they were in good spirits, they were in no condition to conduct guerrilla warfare. Some of his charges were still sick, and Cayler himself had not fully recovered. Furthermore, he said that he was awaiting guidance from Thorp, as he had the “last word” on all guerrilla matters in the area. Volckmann wondered why Cayler would defer to another man of the same rank—or why Thorp would even claim to have control over partisan operations this early. Cayler confided in them, however, that he had lost his confidence in Thorp and that the man had largely negated his own authority.
¹¹⁰
According to Cayler, Thorp had already alienated many Americans and agitated the local Filipinos. But his biggest
faux pas
was agitating the nearby Hukbalahap.

Volckmann had never heard of Claude Thorp, and Cayler’s description of him did not paint the most flattering picture. Nevertheless, if Volckmann wanted to start guerrilla operations, consulting Thorp might be useful. Volckmann wished Cayler luck and set out to see what he could glean from Thorp. Thanking the Jincos and bidding Cayler goodbye, the four reached Claude Thorp’s camp in the late afternoon of 20 August.

Unlike the Fassoth brothers, Volckmann was not impressed either by Thorp or his camp. He had become quite inactive and, at this point, seemed entirely disinterested in the war. Volckmann found this attitude hard to accept, especially from a lieutenant colonel. He explained to Thorp that they were headed for North Luzon and laid out his tentative plans for conducting guerrilla warfare.
¹¹¹

Upon hearing this, Thorp exploded.
He blasted Volckmann and his friends as “interlopers” and declared himself to be the “official” leader of the Allied resistance. Thorp said that before the Fall of Corregidor, he had been hand-picked by General MacArthur to organize the
only
resistance movement in Luzon.
¹¹²

Despite this directive, however, Thorp had done next to nothing about it. Just as Cayler had described, Thorp alienated local Filipinos and resented the other Americans in his sector. He had snubbed Vicente Bernia—despite receiving 100 pesos from the man—and ignored an offer from the Hukbalahap to combine guerrilla forces. When asked about Moses and Noble, Thorp curtly replied that they had gone north. Apparently, they too had met with Thorp and were greeted with similar hostility.

After two days of fruitless discussions with Thorp, Volckmann asked for a guide who could help him find his way north. Thorp, however, did not know of any guides familiar with the Central Plains area— except for the Hukbalahap. Nevertheless, Volckmann decided to take a gamble and solicit help from a nearby Huk camp. Of course, the possibility lingered that the Huks would shoot him on the spot, but Volckmann desperately needed a guide to help him navigate his way through the swampy lowlands of Central Luzon.

Arriving at a nearby Huk outpost, Volckmann politely asked for any knowledgeable guides to the north. His reception at the Huk camp was one of icy indifference, but the inquiry nevertheless produced a stocky young native who offered his services as a guide. The young man, whom Volckmann and Blackburn nicknamed “Kid Muscles,” agreed to take them as far as the Hukbalahap district headquarters atop Mount Arayat—the only mountain in the Central Plains of Luzon—in Pampanga Province. From there, they could find a guide with a better working knowledge of the North Luzon landscape.
¹¹³

On the night of 24 August, Volckmann, Blackburn, Bruno, and Emilio departed Thorp’s camp with Kid Muscles leading the way. After an hour or so on the trail, Volckmann noticed that they were moving closer to a brightly lit area. Adjusting his eyes to the light, he shuddered as he beheld what lay before him:
this was a Japanese prison camp.
Silhouetted against the nighttime sky were images of barbed wire fence and Japanese guards. He saw no prisoners, as they no doubt had been herded into their barracks for the night. Dazzling searchlights crisscrossed the area from atop the guard towers, frantically searching for any movement beyond the trees. Kid Muscles explained that this was Camp O’Donnell—one of two final destinations for those on the Bataan Death March. Crawling into a nearby drainage ditch, the five men slowly made their way around the prison camp, escaping the beams of light which glided only inches above their heads.
¹¹⁴
How fortunate Volckmann must have felt not to be on the other side of that fence.

In the predawn hours of the following morning, Volckmann arrived at the Hukbalahap headquarters. The hike up the slope of Mount Arayat was no easy feat; the steep grade would have been difficult for even the most experienced mountaineer. Along the way, they were challenged by the Hukbalahap guards at least a dozen times. Every so often, angry voices rang out from the darkness, demanding that the intruders identify themselves. Using Kid Muscles as an interpreter, they explained that they were Americans seeking help from the Huk leadership. Once inside the Huk compound, Volckmann was snatched away by two guards at the front gate. Although it was nearly 3:00 a.m., they ushered him into the home of the Hukbalahap chieftain, Esuebio Aquino.
¹¹⁵

Militarily, the Huks were among the most ruthless and wellorganized guerrilla outfits of the entire war. They fielded their partisans in 100-man units known as “squadrons.” Two squadrons made a battalion; two battalions made a regiment. There was no formalized rank structure, although each man was given an assigned task—for example a rifleman or supply officer—and told to report to someone with a higher designated authority than himself. Each squadron was also assigned a political officer who instructed the Huk cadres how to implement Marxist ideas. Volckmann never expressed his opinions on their political ideology, but it is obvious that he respected their military prowess.

As he sat patiently on the floor of the leader’s house, he hoped that Thorp’s attitude had not caused too much resentment. The Filipinos were proud and passionate people, and to treat them as Thorp had done was neither smart nor endearing. But whatever the extent of Thorp’s public relations damage, Volckmann still needed a guide to North Luzon. When Aquino finally entered the room, the faintly lit lanterns revealed a man nearly 60 years old, reserved and ruggedly stoic. He expressed his dissatisfaction with Thorp and lamented their inability to reach a consensus. Nonetheless, he remained open to the prospect of working with Americans. After an hour’s discussion, he invited Volckmann and Blackburn to stay at the house and rest for a while; breakfast would be served in a few hours. With that, Aquino silently returned to his room.
¹¹⁶

The meeting with Aquino left Volckmann feeling somewhat better. At best, he had expected nothing more than a cold and apathetic audience. Now, the Huks were giving him quarter and feeding him, too. Volckmann appreciated their hospitality, but he realized that the Huks had an ulterior motive. Before the war, they had denounced the Americans as evil
capitalistas
, and their diplomatic overtures to Claude Thorp did not reflect a suddenly pro-American attitude. Rather, they saw the war as a political opportunity. Now that they shared a common enemy in the Japanese, the Huks believed that fighting alongside the Americans might lend more credibility to—and propaganda for—their Marxist-Leninist ideologies. Although the Huks were happy to help Volckmann—they even asked him to stay on as a military adviser—they often clashed with USAFFE guerrillas later in the war.
¹¹⁷

Aquino instructed one of his men to take them as far north as the Huk network extended. Volckmann had no indication of how far that would be, but was nonetheless grateful to have garnered their support. Heading north, Volckmann and the others were greeted at the foot of Mount Arayat by an endless network of rice paddies. Sloshing through the muddy retention ponds, Volckmann recorded the most frustrating hike he had endured since the jungles of Bataan. Every step dragged him down farther and farther into rice-littered muck. Walking along the dikes offered little solace—the footing was so narrow and the surface so slippery that he often lost his balance and went flying back into the muddy water.
¹¹⁸

Sometime after midnight on 27 August, he arrived at another Huk hideout, this time in the middle of a swamp. As they had done at Headquarters, the Huk staff at this hideout tried to convince Volckmann to stay on as a military adviser. Flattered by the invitation, he again had to remind his hosts that he was a United States Army officer and that his duties lie farther north. After resting a while at the swamp hideout, Volckmann continued north with a new guide.

For Volckmann, Blackburn, Bruno, and Emilio, the swamp would be far worse than the rice paddies of the previous day. At first, the marshy terrain did not drastically impede their movement—until they all sank chest-deep into the water. Squirming through that slimy mess, no doubt fearful of snakes, mosquitoes, and other swamp creatures, they secured a native canoe to navigate their way through the rest of the swamp.

The group finally arrived at the house of an old schoolteacher about one kilometer from La Paz in Tarlac Province. Bypassing La Paz was sure to be a monumental task: it housed one of the largest Japanese garrisons in the province—one that was guaranteed to have a regular dispatch of enemy patrols. Volckmann, however, was more familiar with this part of Luzon, having fought through La Paz and Victoria during the retreat to Bataan. As the final and northernmost Huk operative in the area, the old teacher was obviously uncomfortable at the prospect of housing two Americans so close to a Japanese enclave. Sensing the discomfort of his new host, Volckmann reassured him that he would not stay long and that all he needed was a safe route to the Highway 3 intersection.
¹¹⁹

La Paz lay along the east-west Highway 13. Highway 13 intersected the north-south Highway 3 only ten miles from Volckmann’s current position. He estimated that it would take only an hour to get there, but the evasive route by which the old Huk led them added three more hours of plodding through the swamp. They appreciated the schoolteacher’s wisdom in wanting to avoid the Japanese, but they were quickly tiring of the savage swampland. Finally arriving at the Highway 3 road junction, Volckmann thanked his host who then darted hastily back into the swamp.
¹²⁰

From there, the group traveled up Highway 3 towards Victoria. The move was risky, but the men had seen enough swamps and rice paddies for the time being. Returning to their previous tactics of skirting the main roads, the four would occasionally pass a cluster of two or three farmhouses along the road. This was a common sight throughout Luzon, but what complicated their travels tonight were the farmers’ dogs. Volckmann and the others traveled by night, and when passing one of the rural homesteads their arrival was punctuated by a symphony of barking. This was especially frustrating, as the dogs would continue barking long after they had passed the homestead.
¹²¹
Volckmann did not worry about the irate homeowners nearly as much as he worried about the Japanese. The sleepy-eyed farmers may have been incensed by their rude awakening, but a nearby garrison might detect the same commotion and dispatch a rifle squad to investigate.

Shortly before dawn on 30 August, they arrived at a house where a farmer and his wife agreed to take them in. Using Emilio as an interpreter, Volckmann related that they were trying to find the safest route around Victoria. The farmer, whose name was never given, knew of a route that would bypass Victoria and pick up a railroad track that ran northeast toward Guimba. When asked for a reliable guide, the farmer happily agreed to show them the way. This pleased Volckmann, as he knew it would save him and his men a considerable amount of time. The level grade of the railroad track was indeed a welcomed relief—Volckmann made excellent time and arrived at the outskirts of Guimba by daybreak.
¹²²

As the morning sun rose in the east, Volckmann knew he had to find another hiding spot—and quickly. Guimba was a well-populated barrio and the Japanese housed a 50-man garrison nearby. Two Americans wandering the edge of town was hardly a promising circumstance, and the locals seemed to agree—every time Volckmann and Blackburn approached a house, they were quickly shooed away by frightened Filipinos. Volckmann understood their fear, but he was nonetheless frustrated by it.