Come, come, ye Saints, no toil nor labor fear;

But with joy wend your way.

Though hard to you this journey may appear,

Grace shall be as your day.

—William Clayton, “Come, Come, Ye Saints”

In 1942 Captain Robert G. Davey of Salt Lake City, Utah, then a prisoner of the Imperial Japanese Army, was transferred to the Davao Penal Colony. Also called Dapecol, the colony was a notorious Japanese prisoner of war (POW) camp on Mindanao Island in the Philippines. Davey had already survived four months of battle on the front lines in a courageous, but ultimately futile, defense of the Bataan Peninsula. He had also survived recurring bouts of malaria, other diseases, and the infamous Bataan Death March, as well as two other Japanese POW camps where thousands had died of disease, malnutrition, and brutality.

Dapecol was a place of cruelty, starvation, and sickness—place where the prisoners, seemingly abandoned by their country, were despised, exploited, tortured, and at times savagely murdered by their captors. Oddly, it was also a place that was often quiet. There were no sounds of war—the battles were nowhere near Dapecol—and there were no radios, TVs, or phonographs blaring. Aside from the distant sounds of jungle birds, the most common noises were the quiet conversations of tired and starving POWs, and the low moans and coughs of sick and dying prisoners.

Davey found himself in that camp, sick and starving, on a Sunday. As he lay on his cot in the quiet of the camp, he heard the faint sound of men singing somewhere in the distance. What caught his attention was not so much the singing, but the song. To Davey, a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and the youngest son of the bishop of the Salt Lake City Cannon Ward, the song was familiar but wholly out of place.

Looking “like a human skeleton, literally nothing but skin and bones [and] afflicted with various skin diseases, beriberi, malnutrition [and] malaria,” Davey managed to arise from his bed and go looking for the source. He found it. In the balcony of the mess hall were about thirty POWs singing “Come, Come Ye Saints,” the great anthem of the Latter-day Saints, led by First Lieutenant George Robin (Bobby) Brown—not exactly what you would expect in a World War II Japanese hellhole in the Pacific; yet there they were, an informal branch of brothers in the Davao Penal Colony, a small but bright ray of light in a very dark place.[1]

This is the story of these Latter-day Saint soldiers, who found themselves in the most wretched of circumstances—World War II prisoners of the Imperial Japanese Army. At particularly challenging times, these POWs found strength in ways unique to their faith. They thought of the Word of Wisdom, the Church’s religious health code—especially its promise that “they shall run and not be weary, and shall walk, and not faint.”[2] They thought of their patriarchal blessings, sacred personal blessings of guidance and admonition, and the counsel and promises in them.[3] In what perhaps may have been homage to the experience of the Prophet Joseph Smith, one soldier, on the eve of his surrender and imprisonment, retreated to the privacy of a jungle clearing to kneel and pray out loud for help; he experienced a powerful and reassuring spiritual manifestation. They thought of the love and faith of their families at home and found strength in the prayers they knew those faithful family members were offering on their behalf. Amidst the suffering of such camps, they considered their blessings.

The religious life of the typical Latter-day Saint soldier in World War II was often a lonely one, especially in the Pacific, where Latter-day Saint servicemen were thinly scattered among a vastly larger number of other soldiers.[4] While some occasionally attended other religious services—usually chaplain-led nondenominational or Protestant services—there were rarely any organized religious services of their own faith.[5] But this was not the case with Latter-day Saint POWs at Dapecol. Although lacking official Church authorization, an informal but functioning branch was formed at Dapecol. In light of the circumstances—a Japanese POW camp in the jungles of the Philippines—this was a remarkable event in the history of the Church.[6]

This is the story of the POW members of that branch; the forces that brought them together and sustained them; and the events that would later pull them apart, some to their liberation and others to their death. It is an account of survivors—their inspiring stories of how, with faith and by the grace of God, they were able to survive the horrific conditions of their imprisonment to return home to loving families to live full and gratifying lives. This is also a story of Latter-day Saint POWs who did not survive, despite equally faithful prayers. It is a story of faithful families—mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers—who did not see their son or brother return from war. They also have a story to tell and, although it may be different, it also inspires.

Often, stories such as these are presented in binary fashion: us versus them, good versus evil, nation against nation, and so forth. In reality, everyone is a victim in war, and sometimes forces from each side perpetrate atrocities. Lastly, this book is a lesson about hate, a powerful emotion often exploited for its potent motivating force. But hate is ultimately a destructive emotion whose corrosive effects can linger long after its cause has disappeared. This is a story of how the gospel of Jesus Christ can be its antidote.

Notes

[1] Ruby S. Brown and Nelle B. Zundel, “George Robin Brown . . . His Story”

(unpublished manuscript, July 27, 1977); History of George Robin Brown, written by his mother and older sister, 18; Spencer W. Kimball, The Miracle of Forgiveness (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1969), 288. The accounts in “George Robin Brown . . . His Story,” and The Miracle of Forgiveness refer to the hymn being “An Angel from on High.” This was an error on the part of Ruby Brown in recording the story, and the account in The Miracle of Forgiveness was based on Ruby’s account. After the war, Davey identified “Come, Come, Ye Saints” as the hymn he heard and that drew him to this assembled group of Latter-day Saint POWs. Robert G. Davey, “Last Talk” (unpublished fireside talk given by Davey, transcript provided to the author by Marilyn Springgay), 3. The quoted physical description of Davey at that time is from a letter Carl D. Rohlfing, a fellow POW and branch member, wrote after the war and which is quoted in Marilyn Beth Davey Springgay, “Robert Gray Davey, 2 May 1915–19 July 1968,” 31. This is an unfinished draft manuscript of Davey’s life history written by his daughter, who graciously shared it with the author.

[2] Doctrine and Covenants 89:20.

[3] A patriarchal blessing is a blessing a worthy member may receive from a Church patriarch, a Church member specifically empowered to give such blessings. The blessings are transcribed and provided to the recipient to enable the member to later study and reflect on it. They are understood as personal counsel from the Lord to the recipient.

[4] Robert C. Freeman and Dennis A. Wright, Saints at War, Experiences of Latter-day Saints in World War II (American Fork, UT: Covenant Communications, 2001), 13. Robert Freeman provided an interesting collection of stories about wartime meetings among Latter-day Saint servicemen, including during WWII, under the heading “Worship Meetings and Gatherings.” What makes these stories so poignant was the relative rarity of such meetings. Robert C. Freeman, Saints at War: Inspiring Stories of Courage and Valor (Springville, UT: Cedar Fort, 2013), 172–222.

[5] Indeed, in the absence of a chaplain, Latter-day Saint servicemen would sometimes assist in or lead nondenominational services, reflecting their experience growing up in a church with a lay leadership. See William T. Garner, Unwavering Valor: A POW’s Account of the Bataan Death March, 2014 ed. (Springville, UT: Plain Sight Publishing, 2014), 89–90. Google e-book.

[6] Clark and Kowallis, “Fate of the Davao Penal Colony,” 118.