Our Bataan legacy

April 9, 1942:


The Crucible at Mount Samat


A timeless epic battle occurred at Mount Samat, Bataan, starting April 3 to April 9, 1942. Japan, with its rising Sun, overpowered the forces at the slopes of the Mountain, that stood witness to the blood being shed by the troops of the United States Armed Forces in the Far East to defend its turf.

The American Eagle was helplessly encircling but was nowhere in sight when the heavy fighting started, its Commander had left the premises a month earlier, with a promise to return with a convoy of 70 miles of armed units which did not arrive when it was needed at the zero hour. The surviving Philippine Commonwealth officers and men were left to carry the crucible to its finality and still did not want to surrender to its bitter end.

This is our Bataan legacy.
– The Filipino Veterans Foundation


Echoes from a distant past…

These excerpts are taken from the war diaries of a soldier who survived the epic battles of Bataan and the ordeals of a prisoner of war at Camp O’Donnell in Capas, Tarlac.

It was then Holy Week of April, 1942. Our Intelligence had reported that the Japanese were making big preparations for their big Offensive. A young American officer, with a note from General King and General Capinpin came to our Command Post. This young American officer was the commander of the Anti-Tank battalion to give us support in our sector. He had 22 American soldiers as members of the Anti-Tank crew.

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday passed, and everything seemed quiet. But we all knew that the Japanese were busy preparing for their general Offensive all along the Line which were defended by the 41st, 21st, and 51st Divisions. (The author was the Executive Officer of the 21st and 23rd Battalions of the 21st Division-Ed). This area extended from the slopes of Mount Samat on the east, down to the seashore on the west.

For three days and three nights, we were all praying that the much awaited American convoy, supposed to be 70 miles long somewhere in the Pacific would really come to reinforce our much depleted and famished men! But there was no American convoy that arrived. They were all propaganda of the “Voice of Freedom,” just to keep our men hopeful and hold the line much longer.

Holy Thursday – April 2, 1942- After our early breakfast of soft boiled rice and scanty salmon and salt, our Regimental Chaplain, Fr. Ingal, said Holy Mass on an improvised altar near our Regimental Command Post, about half-way atop Mount Samat on its western slopes. About one hundred officers and men mostly sickly and wounded were attending this Mass that morning of Holy Thursday.

When Mass was about half-way, we saw nine Japanese bombers that were starting to circle above and around our sector. There were several other Japanese planes over the skies above the 41st and our left and the 51st on our right.
Upon hearing the drones of planes, most of the officers and men who were hearing that Mass soon scampered for air-raid shelters, jumping into fox holes and any available cover nearby. When Fr. Ingal looked back at me questioningly, I approached him and whispered, “ Just go on Father, try to finish the Mass.” And so, Fr. Ingal bravely continued to say the Mass. There were only about a dozen officers and me who continued to hear that Mass.

Suddenly, three by three, the nine Japanese dive bombers alternated diving and dropping bombs all over our sector. Miraculously, all of us who were attending the Mass were not hurt. But many of those who run away to seek shelter were killed and wounded.

April 3, Good Friday. The start of the all-out Japanese offensive.

When we reached our advance command post, two American young soldiers were starting to run to the rear, they were obviously shell-shocked. There were orders to shoot anyone who ran away as cowards. But instead of following that order, I told them to hand us their Garand rifles.

The Japanese dive bombers dropped bombs all over our sector, and their Artillery was pounding us heavily. Before sundown, on Good Friday, the Japanese were able to break through our lines. Our boys were starting to withdraw to the rear. At the beginning the withdrawal was orderly, but when it was getting dark, there was great confusion. Our own men were also shell-shocked.

Holy Saturday, April 4, the Japanese had surrounded Mount Samat. Our Division Commander, General Capinpin, and most of his Staff Officers were captured by the enemy.
By nightfall, there were about twenty officers and about 200 men that regrouped with us in a ravine along the Samat trail on the southeast slope of Samat Mountain. We decided to take the least guarded terrain of the mountain to escape the Japanese encirclement. With extreme precaution during our slow movement by midnight , we went up and down the ravenous territory. When we dashed across the trail, a great commution attracted the Japanese sentries who opened fire. There was a great confusion. The long column was broken at several points. Officers and men ran in all directions. Most of us could not get out of the encirclement—and about 900 of our men died or were captured by the Japanese. There were only twenty of us who were left when we regrouped about 3 Kms southeast of Samat.

We finally reached Balanga, where hundreds of officers and men regrouped coming from different divisions. When we reached Little Baguio, there were rumors that General King had already ordered the USAFFE to surrender to the Japs. All of us, Filipino officers and most of the men, did not want to surrender.

We were leaving Little Baguio around midnight and ammunition dumps were set on fire. General Francisco asked if anyone of us would want to raise the white flag as a sign to the Japanese that we were to surrender, not one of the 3,000 officers and men raised his hand. Instead, several of us cried unashamedly, we did not want to surrender. We wanted to fight some more.

April 7, we were ordered to move south until Km 182 (Mariveles-Baguio road. We were all very tired, sleepy and hungry.

April 8 – Wednesday, the Japanese officers and our generals conferred concerning the surrender. All our arms were taken up. I way saying goodbye to my old personal friend, my personal pistol, a hero in Mindanao for nine years among Moro outlaws.



April 9- Thursday, the Surrender.

We had no longer our Division Commander, General Capinpin, who was captured in Mount Samat. We started our march at Km. 181, near Mariveles, where we were temporarily concentrated for two days. There was no food. No water. Then we were made to march to what was to become the infamous Bataan Death March.

These are the words penned by my father, Erasto R. Batongmalaque, (26 July, 1905 , Negros Occ., Philippines – 9 March, 1995, Los Angeles), a fallen hero in the defense of Bataan, while he was incarcerated among thousands in Camp O’Donnell. Circa April to September, 1942.
- Jenny L. Batongmalaque, MDApril 3, 2010, Los Angel