Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

“God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,

With peace on earth, good will to men.”

—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day”

For prisoners of war in the Philippines, all the days and nights became endlessly repeating copies of the last—each was just like the one before. In the words of a former POW at Davao, “The days of our years included hundreds upon hundreds that were characterized only by dreary, dragging emptiness, spiritual and mental, as well as physical.”[1] However, December 24, 1942, in Davao was different. To everyone’s surprise, Major Maeda, the camp commander, declared a rare holiday from work to celebrate Christmas; with it, he promised a little extra food and some entertainment. It all made for an unforgettable Dapecol Christmas of 1942.[2]

The Christmas show was something of a variety show involving the POWs and the Japanese as well as some local Filipinos. The first performance was a traditional harvest dance by some Filipino teenage boys and girls from local families. For the prisoners, it was mesmerizing; the graceful movements and colorful rainbow costumes were in stark contrast to their dreary khaki and dirty brown lives. That was followed by a musical interlude with harmonized singing of well-known Christmas songs. The prisoners and the local Filipinos managed to put together an orchestra that played some familiar pieces. For the Japanese part, the interpreter (who was especially despised by the POWs) surprised them all with a very skillful rendition of the Charleston. Some Japanese soldiers then performed a samurai sword dance that included what the prisoners thought was an unnervingly realistic depiction of hari-kari, the Japanese ritual suicide.

Then came the Americans. To a wave of communal laughter and applause, starting with the Japanese officers and guards seated in the front row, a Jewish private from the Bronx and an Italian corpsman from Philadelphia came jitterbugging across the stage accompanied by an accordion-playing officer. The program ended with wild applause for some prisoners from Brown’s unit, the 200th and 515th, who donned face paint and feathers to provide a comical interpretation of a traditional Native American dance and an uproarious impersonation of Carmen Miranda. Miranda was a popular (and somewhat outrageous) singer and actress from Brazil known as the Brazilian bombshell who sang “Chica Chica Boom Chic.” It’s easy to see how some soldiers could have fun with that. We have no information on the specific identities of the participants from the New Mexico unit, but since this was Brown’s unit—and we know of Brown’s considerable choral and dramatic talents—this has his fingerprints all over it.

One Filipino, sympathetic to the prisoners, recalled that for a few moments the “difference between friend and foe [was] forgotten, and everybody in the audience united in a common feeling of enjoyment and laughter,” an appropriate feeling for Christmas. Then just as the entire audience finished singing “Auld Lang Syne,” a gong sounded, and the prisoners were abruptly ordered back to barracks. As the prisoners left the show, they did receive the promised extra food, but not from the Japanese. Each prisoner received a rice stick fried in coconut oil from generous and compassionate Filipinos.

The Sacrament and the Flag

The Christmas of 1942 was also special to these Latter-day Saint POWs for another reason. The afternoon prior to the show, about ten of them went over to some trees by the hospital and held a sacrament meeting. Corporal Carl D. Rohlfing from Salt Lake City had managed to find a cracker. With that cracker and water from a canteen, he prepared and blessed the sacramental bread and water, which were then passed among the men.[3]

There was also another event that made this Christmas especially memorable for these POWs. At the time of the surrender, a soldier had taken down an American flag and wrapped it around himself under his uniform. Once in captivity, he had hidden the flag in a regular GI blanket. The POWs were not allowed to own or display their flag, sing their national anthem, or wear any military badges or insignia. This flag, therefore, was a precious but dangerous thing to have; these American POWs would have been severely beaten and the flag confiscated if the Japanese had ever seen it.

Nonetheless, patriotism and a love of their country and its values were common among the POWs. The flag, the tangible symbol of those values, was a source of strength and pride, but that pride had to be expressed covertly.[4] On that Christmas Day, when the guards were not looking, the POW who had smuggled the flag unrolled the blanket, displaying the Stars and Stripes. According to Davey, “When the men saw the flag, . . . a ripple of wonder and amazement spread throughout the group. This was followed almost instantly by the deep silence that comes only when one’s heart is too full to permit words to be spoken. With their eyes still gazing upon the colorful banner, the soldiers began to sing; softly, but with increasing depth of feeling, [‘God Bless America’].”[5]

Of this incident, Hamblin wrote, “A wave of emotion went through the crowd and tears were visible in many eyes. Just to get a glimpse of the Stars and Stripes, emblem of freedom, brought cherished memories to our hearts with gratitude for the land of America.”[6]

We now live in a more secular society where religious symbols are not as meaningful to many and where the flag is sometimes seen as merely an ornamental decoration or symbol and is even debased as a sign of protest. Accordingly, for many today it may be difficult to fully appreciate the power of those symbols to those POWs—the partaking of the sacrament, the symbol of their Christianity and their hope and faith—and the display, though brief and clandestine, of the flag, the symbol of their country, freedom, democracy, and their families at home. These symbols, together with the singing of “God Bless America” on a Christmas Day, made for a deeply memorable event. Years later, James Patterson gave fireside talks about his experiences as a POW. That Christmas Day, with the sacrament and the flag, formed the core of his message.[7]

Presents

The Red Cross had been sending packages to the prisoners, but the Japanese had kept the packages to themselves, sometimes with the starving prisoners looking on. But on January 29, 1943, Red Cross packages were for the first time delivered to the prisoners at Dapecol.[8] It was like Christmas. After so many false hopes and the lack of contact from the outside, the Red Cross boxes from the United States were something the prisoners would not believe had they not seen the packages with their own eyes. As one prisoner later wrote, “Hands trembled as they tore the boxes open. Eyes sparkled as edible treasures were pulled forth and held up to public view, while hard-bitten, battle-scarred soldiers and sailors, exactly like children on Christmas morning, shouted excitedly, ‘Look what I’ve got!’”[9]

Each prisoner received two fifteen-pound boxes containing cans of corned beef and salmon, sardines, coffee, instant cocoa, jam, chocolate bars, butter, cheese, and powdered milk. There were also some clothing and toiletries and, importantly, vitamin tablets, sulfa drugs, anesthetics, and quinine.[10] But what was most emotionally moving for the prisoners were the labels on the products—familiar reminders of home, such as Kraft cheese and Welch’s Grapeade.[11] Above all, the boxes were tangible evidence that they had not been forgotten.[12]

The resilience of the body and soul of man is not to be underestimated. The effect of this food on the prisoners was significant and almost immediate. Within days, bedridden men walked, ulcers and rashes disappeared, and spirits soared. When Davey arrived at Dapecol, he had been put in the hospital with malaria and beriberi. On December 1, 1942, he was discharged from the hospital but, still suffering from dry beriberi, was put in the sick barracks with others suffering from that disease. With the Red Cross packages, Davey finally received a B1 shot, a Christmas present for which he was most grateful. From then on, he gradually began to recover.[13] Not surprisingly, however, following receipt of the Red Cross packages, the Japanese reduced rations for the POWs.[14]

Postcards Home

Sometime after the Red Cross packages were received, the Japanese distributed a series of postcards—more accurately, comment cards—for the prisoners to send home. For most prisoners, this was their first opportunity to communicate with loved ones since the fall of the Philippines, although Japanese censors strictly limited the content of the messages. For example, the printed card stated, My health is ____, and provided four choices for the POW to select: excellent, good, fair, poor. There were also a few blank lines where the prisoner could write a short message. The prisoner prepared his message first in pencil, and then typed copies were made. Finally, the interpreter examined each man’s card for seditious or otherwise objectionable material, and the prisoner signed the card. The Japanese, of course, censored the cards for any information of military significance and to assure that the Japanese and their treatment of the POWs were cast in a favorable light.[15]

While Brown was at Dapecol, his family received five such cards, all indicating that he was in good health and well treated. Although they were brief and impersonal and the families understood the limits on what the POW could actually write, each card was nevertheless signed by their loved one and each was gratefully received as evidence that their son or brother was alive.[16] Not all of these letters reached the families of the POWs, however. Most of Davey’s cards, for example, were received by his sister five months after his liberation.[17]

So continued the seemingly endless days of the dreary, numbing captivity of these POWs at Davao, interspersed not only with the incidents of Japanese cruelty and torture, but also with Sunday worship services, the events of Christmas and reminders of their country, the Red Cross packages, and letters home, all of which gave substance to their hope that they had not been forgotten.

Notes

[1] McCracken, Very Soon Now, foreword.

[2] This event is described in Lukacs, Escape from Davao, 141–42, based on that author’s interview with a survivor of Dapecol, endnote 14, and in McCracken, Very Soon Now, 53–54, although without reference to the names of any prisoner participants. This Christmas program is also referred to in Hamblin’s memoir and by Patterson in his interview and in one of Davey’s letters published in the Deseret News. Hamblin, “My Experience,” 16; Patterson, “Interview,” 19; Deseret News, March 24, 1945, 7. See also, Springgay, “Davey,” 35 (quoting letter). Goodliffe also recalled, “We had fun in Davao. We made skits and performed them.” Goodliffe, “Interview with Sam Orwin,” answer to question 10. For a description of other musical and dramatic productions put on by POWs at Cabanatuan, see Cave, Beyond Courage, 235–36.

[3] Patterson, “Interview,” 18–19. Patterson described himself as not having been particularly active in the Church. His friend Clay Rosenvall had never been baptized, although his parents were members. For the article in BYU Studies, the authors contacted Rosenvall’s sister to determine whether she thought he might have nevertheless participated in the Davao branch. She replied that she did not think her brother would have been part of that group. Clark and Kowallis, “Fate of the Davao Penal Colony,” 119. Nonetheless, Patterson indicated that Rosenvall was there with the others on Christmas Day at this special sacrament meeting.

[4] Daws, Prisoners of the Japanese, 135; Springgay, “Davey,” 37–38.

[5] Springgay, “Davey,” 37–38 (quoting from an article by Davey published in the Children’s Friend, June 1962). Although Davey refers to the anthem, Patterson indicates they were singing “God Bless America.”

[6] Hamblin, “My Experience,” 17.

[7] Richard Patterson, email message to author, dated October 12, 2016 (son of James Patterson). There was also another incident when the POWs returning from working in the rice fields broke into singing “God Bless America,” with similar emotional effects on the POWs and recalled by several POWs. Patterson, “Interview,” 21–22; McCracken, Very Soon Now, 49; Bolitho, “A Japanese POW Story,” part 3, 8.

[8] Lukacs, Escape from Davao, 79, 143–44.

[9] McCracken, Very Soon Now, 63–64.

[10] Shively, Profiles in Survival, 591n14.

[11] Lukacs, Escape from Davao, 144.

[12] After the war, a POW commented on how Red Cross packages not only provided needed nourishment, but also renewed morale and rekindled hope, offering a profound sense that these POWs had not been forgotten. Lawton, Some Survived, 69.

[13] Springgay, “Davey,” 36. Davey indicates that at Dapecol he spent most of his time in the hospital and was never well enough to work outside in the fields.

[14] Springgay, “Davey,” 36.

[15] Lukacs, Escape from Davao, 144–45; McCracken, Very Soon Now, 66–67.

[16] Brown and Zundel, “George Robin Brown . . . His Story,” 16–17, 20.

[17] Springgay, “Davey,” 45.