Written 66 years ago today...

Bataan War Memorial, Las Cruces, New Mexico, USA

Darl,

We had received orders to stand back. The men in my group were used to bringing the fight to the enemy, and to take this passive stance made us no better than moving targets. The last few weeks during which we were under seige were long and rough, and the end of the day would bring dispatches that were not so encouraging.



One evening my weariness and despair had chosen to express themselves through my eyes, and so I felt the wetness of tears staining my cheeks; but John, a private who had recently joined our regiment, frowned at such display, and sternly reminded me that every tear I shed would drown whatever scrap of courage I had left. From that time onwards I resolved to keep my thoughts and emotions in check, save that which is pertinent to my survival.

When he wasn't busy addressing my shortcomings, John was a jovial personality and brought a bit of levity to our grim surroundings. I thought I was tall, but this man was a virtual giant. He grew up in a farm where he took care of animals and fixed fences. He abhorred school, reading and anything that kept him from the outdoors. He knew none of the books I read, though a lot of them were written in his country. The gulf of lifestyle that separated us was every bit as tangible as our height disparity; despite this I had found him to be interesting company, and we became fast friends...

I showed John my favorite photograph of you. He said you are beautiful, especially your eyes. I told him one never forgets a girl with eyes the color of mist…

John generously gave me 3 pages of his stationery ration to supplement my meager supply. I was embarrassed to accept at first, telling him he could probably use them to write his folks back home. He told me he ran away from home at an early age and had few friends, so it would matter little to anyone if something happened to him. I said I would remember him. He laughed and replied that if he passed on first, he would petition the Powers That Be to let me live long enough to make it home. He asked me to do the same for him, should my fortune be less sanguine. I thought he was being ridiculous, but at that point I would have agreed to anything he said because I badly needed a smoke, and John was one of the few in the camp who had decent cigarettes.

John died the next day. I was too far to save him when he fell. I could not even crawl through the crush of bodies to close his eyes. The devastation around us would not permit me to give him this last dignity. His eyes that stared unseeing were a startling blue, like a waveless sea in the summertime. He was so brave to come thus, and die defending a land not his own.

I could not imagine dying so far from home... for me it would be the final orphaning...

On that night after his passing, I felt death brush near as a cold wind, but it did not take me. John remembered his end of the deal, bless his soul...

Too many lives were thrust into this terrible mess, many of them are merely boys, willed into coarse manhood by awful necessity... how can this war be won by those who gave hope to the ones they left behind, yet kept none for themselves?

I fight this war so that you may live. If the cost of your happiness and safety were more pain and suffering I would gladly pay the price a hundred times over. You represent everything worth preserving in this world. Remember life. Remember my promise, even if it becomes a mere memory in the depth of time. Think of me under the shade of that tree where we talked about our dreams. I’ll live within you, if you don’t forget me.

I love you with all I have.


Your Enteng




Translated from the original Ilocano. Parts of this letter were excised at the translator’s discretion. The writer would survive to write more letters to his “Darl”. He would name his first son John, after his friend.