Under the Shadow of the Sword

When we arrived in La Paz we stayed in a hut at the back of the La Paz Ice Plant. The ice plant was owned by Mr Gurrea. Father and mother worked and met there before the war broke out. It was a hub of industry, not only making ice but also fresh milk for distribution to Iloilo households, and ice cream. It housed a huge freezer, the size of three regular bedrooms where meat and fish were frozen.

Mr Gurrea was a Spaniard married to a young Filipino wife (he divorced his American wife who chose to remain in Iloilo. Her house is still there at the bank of the Iloilo River at the right when you cross the Forbes Bridge from La Paz). The Japanese occupied the plant and surrounded it with a garrison. My father heard that the Japanese was reopening the ice plant, so, not being a farmer but a carpenter, he took the risk of leaving tje safety of Manaolan and returned to La Paz.

I remember Japanese soldiers wearing only loin cloths taking baths at one of the wells. Occasionally one of them would wander into our hut and carry my younger brother Delfin into his arms. He would show pictures of his children. At first we were alarmed when he would play with Delfin; we have heard stories of how Japanese solders tossed children into the air and bayoneted them as they fell.

The officers had my father sharpen their swords. My mother would say, "Gregorio one day that sword will cut your head off."

It never happened of course for we were careful to follow rules the Japanese imposed, such as not using kerosene and observing blackouts. An infraction can cause the male head of the family exposure to the sun for one day at the plaza. During an air raid the siren would blow and we would run to the nearest air raid shelter, nothing but a hole in the ground deep enough so our heads won't show. There we small children made mud pies and mud airplanes engaging in dogfights.

There was one dog fight that could have killed me and my grandmother. We were walking towards the La Paz market along Magdalo Street and nearing the railroad when we heard the sound of gunfire overhead. Without wasting a second my grandmother whixked me away from the road into a ditch., There we stayed until the sound of airplanes overhead died away.

The workers at the plants were slaves so my father and mother had to do other things to feed the growing family. He made wooden clogs (bakya), wooden bicycle handles, toys, anything just to survive. My mother would go to the rice mill (arrocera) and scoop rice husks and throw them to the wind. They called it pahangin. Bits of rice, being heavier would fall (binlod) and we made rice gruel out of the handful that she could gather each day.

One day a Japanese patrol returned from a campaign. Their helmets were covered with grass and twigs. Their faces were grim. I cried with terror until I couldn't breathe. My chest was heaving with every effort to breathe but I could only hear the wheezing of my lungs. My aunt Ramona took me up and told me to b e quiet and gave me a drink of water..

Living so close to the Japanese we were fortunate. We survived the war, some neighbors did not.
When we arrived in La Paz we stayed in a hut at the back of the La Paz Ice Plant. The ice plant was owned by Mr Gurrea. Father and mother worked and met there before the war broke out. It was a hub of industry, not only making ice but also fresh milk for distribution to Iloilo households, and ice cream. It housed a huge freezer, the size of three regular bedrooms where meat and fish were frozen.

Mr Gurrea was a Spaniard married to a young Filipino wife (he divorced his American wife who chose to remain in Iloilo. Her house is still there at the bank of the Iloilo River at the right when you cross the Forbes Bridge from La Paz). The Japanese occupied the plant and surrounded it with a garrison. When the city was firmly in control my father heard that the Japanese was reopening the ice plant, so, not being a farmer but a carpenter, he took the risk of leaving tje safety of Manaolan and returned to La Paz.

I remember Japanese soldiers wearing only loin cloths taking baths at one of the wells. Occasionally one of them would wander into our hut and carry my younger brother Delfin into his arms. He would show pictures of his children. At first we were alarmed when he would play with Delfin; we have heard stories of how Japanese solders tossed children into the air and bayoneted them as they fell.

The officers had my father sharpen their swords. My mother would say, "Gregorio one day that sword will cut your head off."

It never happened of course for we were careful to follow rules the Japanese imposed, such as not using kerosene and observing blackouts. An infraction can cause the male head of the family exposure to the sun for one day at the plaza. During an air raid the siren would blow and we would run to the nearest air raid shelter, nothing but a hole in the ground deep enough so our heads won't show. There we small children made mud pies and mud airplanes engaging in dogfights.

There was one dog fight that could have killed me and my grandmother. We were walking towards the La Paz market along Magdalo Street and nearing the railroad when we heard the sound of gunfire overhead. Without wasting a second my grandmother whixked me away from the road into a ditch., There we stayed until the sound of airplanes overhead died away.

The workers at the plants were slaves so my father and mother had to do other things to feed the growing family. He made wooden clogs (bakya), wooden bicycle handles, toys, anything just to survive. My mother would go to the rice mill (arrocera) and scoop rice husks and throw them to the wind. They called it pahangin. Bits of rice, being heavier would fall (binlod) and we made rice gruel out of the handful that she could gather each day.

One day a Japanese patrol returned from a campaign. Their helmets were covered with grass and twigs. Their faces were grim. I cried with terror until I couldn't breathe. My chest was heaving with every effort to breathe but I could only hear the wheezing of my lungs. My aunt Ramona took me up and told me to b e quiet and gave me a drink of water..

Living so close to the Japanese we were fortunate. We survived the war, some neighbors did not.