Tag Victor Buencamino

Bataan, 1942: views of a father and his son

Victor Buencamino (second from left, second row), with his family in the Pines Hotel, Baguio, 1932. Rightmost on second row is his eldest son, Felipe Buencamino III.

Victor Buencamino (second from left, second row), with his family in the Pines Hotel, Baguio, 1932. Rightmost on second row is his eldest son, Felipe Buencamino III.

The Philippine Diary Project includes the diaries of a father and his son: Victor Buencamino, and Felipe Buencamino III. At the outbreak of the war, Victor Buencamino was head of the National Rice and Corn Corporation, precursor of today’s National Food Authority. His published diary covers the period from the arrival of the Japanese in Manila, and the first half of the Japanese Occupation.

His diary provides an in-depth look into the dilemma facing government officials who stuck to their posts despite the withdrawal of the Commonwealth Government and the occupation of the Philippines by the Japanese. At certain points, particularly from January-April, 1942, he gets intermittent news about his son (who was, on the other hand, participating in clandestine military intelligence missions, even in Manila).

Particularly gripping are his entries for April, 1942, when on one hand, he is wrestling with increasing Japanese interference and intimidation –including his being summoned to the dreaded Fort Santiago, where other members of his staff had already been summoned and in at least once instance, tortured– and on the other, frantic for news about his son, particularly after the Fall of Bataan, when on the same day he received condolence messages and news his son was alive. Then, he recounted the grief of parents and his own search of the concentration camps.

Felipe Buencamino III (topmost, leaning on windshield of jeep), photo taken in Bataan, 1942.

Felipe Buencamino III (topmost, leaning on windshield of jeep), photo taken in Bataan, 1942.

As for Victor Buencamino’s son, Felipe Buencamino III, known to his friends as Philip, was a young journalist who became a junior officer in Bataan, assigned to General Simeon de Jesus and his military intelligence unit. He kept a diary from the time of the retreat of USAFFE forces to Bataan, conditions there as well as in Corregidor, which he periodically visited, looming defeat, the eve of surrender,  and then the Death March and the ordeal of his fellow prisoners in the Capas Concentration Campas well as his classmates. At times, his diary intersects with other diaries, such as the diary of Gen. Basilio J. Valdes, since Philip accompanied the General during one of his visits to the front. He resumed his diary, briefly, in 1944.

A close friend of Philip, Leon Ma. Guerrero, who was mentioned many times in Philip’s wartime diary, wrote about Mrs. Quezon and the ambush in which she was killed, in 1951. In his essay, he also wrote about his friend, Philip:

In Bataan I shared the same tent with Philip Buencamino, who was later to marry Nini Quezon. He was the aide of General de Jesus, the chief of military intelligence, to which I had been assigned. I remember distinctly that one of the first things Philip and I ever did was to ride out in the general’s command car along the east coast out of pure curiosity. The enemy’s January offensive was turning the USAFFE flank and all along the highway we met retreating units. Then there was nothing: only the open road, the dry and brittle stubble of the abandoned fields, and in the distance the smoke of a burning town. We turned back hurriedly; we had gone too far. I am afraid we never got any closer to the front lines. Our duties were behind the lines. We were quite close during the entire campaign until I was evacuated to the Corregidor hospital, and I developed a sincere admiration for Philip. He was a passionate nationalist who could not stomach racial discrimination, and I remember him best in a violent quarrel with an American non-commissioned officer whom he considered insolent toward his Filipino superiors.

On April 28, 1949, Felipe Buencamino III, together with his mother-in-law, Aurora A. Quezon, sister-in-law, Maria Aurora Quezon, and Ponciano Bernardo (mayor of Quezon City) and others, were killed in an ambush perpetrated by the Hukbalahap. The late Fr. James Reuter, SJ, wrote about it in 2005:

On April 28, 1949 – 56 years ago, Doña Aurora Aragon Quezon was on her way to Baler. With her eldest daughter, Maria Aurora, whom everyone called “Baby”. And with her son-in-law, Philip Buencamino, who was married to her younger daughter, Zeneida, whom everyone called “Nini”. Nini was at home with their first baby, Felipe IV, whom everyone called “Boom”. And she was pregnant with their second baby “Noni”.

On a rough mountain road, in Bongabong, Nueva Ecija, they were ambushed by gunmen hiding behind the trees on the mountainside. The cars were riddled with bullets. All three of them were killed. Along with several others, among them Mayor Ponciano Bernardo of Quezon City.

Adiong, the Quezon family driver, was spared. Running to the first car, Adiong found Philip lying on the front seat, his side dripping blood. Philip smiled at Adiong and said: “Malakas pa ako. Tingnan mo” — “I am still strong. Look!” And dipping his finger in his own blood, Philip wrote on the backrest of the front seat: “Hope in God”.

When they placed him in another vehicle for Cabanatuan, his bloody hands were fingering his rosary, and his lips were moving in prayer. This was consistent with his whole life. His rosary was always in his pocket. And on his 29th birthday, exactly one month before, on March 28, 1949, at dinner in his father’s home, he said to Raul Manglapus: “Raul, the Blessed Virgin has appeared at Lipa, and has a message for all of us. What are we going to do, to welcome her, and to spread her message?”

He was echoing the thoughts of Doña Aurora, who wanted a national period of prayer to welcome the Virgin and to spread her message of Peace. Years later, the Concerned Women of the Philippines established the Doña Aurora Aragon Quezon Peace Awards, choosing the name in honor of this good, quiet, peaceful woman.

The blood stained rosary was brought to Nini, after Philip’s death. Many years later, she wrote down the thoughts that came to her when they gave her the bloody beads:

“We had joined my mother in Baguio for Holy Week, 1949. As we drove down the zigzag, after attending all the Holy Week services, Phil turned to me and said, ‘Nini, if we were to have an accident now, wouldn’t it be the perfect time for us to go?’ I said to him, ‘You may be ready, Phil, but I still have a child to give life to, so I can’t go just yet.’ And not long after this, his life was taken, and mine was spared.”

Her life was spared, but she felt the agony of those three deaths more intensely than anyone else. In that ambush she lost her husband, her mother, and her only sister. The gunmen riddled their bodies with bullets, on that rough mountain road. But miles away, with her one year old baby in her arms, and another baby in her womb, the gunmen left her with a broken heart. The ones she loved went home to God. But she had to carry on.

Another friend of Philip’s, Teodoro M. Locsin, whose wartime diary is also featured in the Philippine Diary Project, wrote about the murder of his friend, in the Philippines Free Press: see One Must Die, May 7, 1949:

I knew Philip slightly before the war. We were together when the Americans entered Manila in February, 1945. We were given a job by Frederic S. Marquardt, chief of the Office of War Information, Southwest Pacific Area, and formerly associate editor of the Free Press. Afterward, Philip would say that he owed his first postwar job to me: I had introduced him to Marquardt.

Philip and I helped put out the first issues of the Free Philippines. We worked together and wrote our stories while shells were going overhead. Philip was never happier; he was in his element. He was at last a newspaperman. He had done some newspaper work before the war, but this was big time. We were covering a city at war. Afterward, we resigned from the OWI, or were fired. Anyway, we went out together.

Meanwhile, we had, with Jose Diokno, the son of Senator Diokno, put out a new paper, the Philippines Press. Diokno was at the desk and more or less kept the paper from going to pieces as it threatened to do every day. I thundered and shrilled; that is, I wrote the editorials. Philip was the objective reporter, the impartial journalist, who gave the paper many a scoop. That was Philip’s particular pride: to give every man, even the devil, his due. While I jumped on a man, Philip would patiently listen to his side…

…As for Philip, he was eager to work, willing to listen, and devoted to the ideals of his craft. He was always smiling—perhaps because he was quite young. He had no enemy in the world—he thought.

After the paper closed up, Philip went to the Manila Post, which suffered a similar fate. Philip went on the radio, as a news commentator. He had a good radio voice; he spoke clearly, forcefully, well. He married the daughter of the late President Manuel L. Quezon, later joined the foreign service. But he never stopped wanting to be again a newspaperman. He would have dropped his work in the government at any time had there been an opening in the press for him.

Philip never spoke ill of Taruc. He saw the movement, of which Taruc was the head, as something he must cover, if given the assignment, and nothing more. Belonging to the landlord class though he did, he did not rave and rant against the Huks.

He had all the advantages, and he had, within the framework of the existing social order, what is called a great future. He was married to a fine girl and all the newspapermen were his friends. They kidded him; they called him Philip Buencamino the Tired, but they all liked him. He wanted so much to be everybody’s friend. he got along with everyone—including myself and Arsenio H. Lacson.

When he returned from Europe to which he had been sent in the foreign service of the Philippines, he was happy, he said, to be home again, and he still wanted to be a newspaperman. His wife was expecting a second child and life was wonderful. Now he is dead, murdered, shot down in cold blood by Taruc’s men.

He was, in the Communist view and in Communist terminology, a representative of feudal landlordism, a bourgeois reactionary, etc. I remember him as a decent young man who tried to be and was a good newspaperman, who used to walk home with me in the afternoon in the early days of Liberation, munching roasted corn and hating no one at all in the world.

A few days earlier, the other friend mentioned by Locsin —Arsenio H. Lacson on May 3, 1949— had also paid tribute to his friend, Philip:

Until now, I can’t quite get over Philip’s tragic death. He was first of all, a very close friend of mine. I saw him married, and was one of the best men at his wedding. I also saw him buried, and it is not a pleasant thing to remember.

Philip was such a nice, clean boy, friendly, warm-hearted and generous, so full of life, and laughter, that I learned to love him. Of course he had his faults, but you take your friends as they are, not as you want them to be. And Philip, for all his faults, was quite a man. In all the years that we kept close together, I never knew him to deliberately do a mean thing.

Because he was by nature easy-going and amiable, he exasperated me at time by failing to take things more seriously and using his considerable talents to point out the many evils with which our government is cursed. Actually, he was not wholly indifferent to them. He could on occasions become quite angry over certain injustices, but he had no capacity for sustained indignation, and it was not in him, to fret and worry over the distraceful and scandalous way this country is being run. Life to him was one swell adventure, to be lived and savored to the full, with very little time left for crusades. The world cannot be changed or saved in a day.

And because he was Philip, he would gaily twit me about being afflicted with a messianic itch. Relax, he would say. Take it easy. Things are not as bad as they look. In time, everything would be alright. Perhaps, he had the right answer. I wouldn’t know. But I shudder to think what would happen if all of us adopted a carely and carefree attitude and paraphrasing archie, Don Marquis’ cockroach reporter, say:

no trick nor kick of fate
can raise me from a yell,
serene I sit and wait
for the Philippines to go to hell.

The last time I saw Philip was two days before his death. Linking his arm to mine with a gay laugh, he dragged me to Astoria for a cup of coffee. We joined a boisterous group of newsmen who flung good-natured jibes at Philip when he announced that he was quitting the government foreign service to settle down to a life of a country farmer. Somebody brought up the subject of a certain Malacañan reporter who always made it a point to take a malicious crack at Philip and his influential family connections, and Philip agreed the guy was nasty. It was typical of Philip, however, that when I curtly suggested that he punch the offensive reporter on the nose, he smilingly shook his head saying: “How can I? Every time I get sore, the fellow embraces me and tells me with that silly laugh of his ‘Sport lang, Chief.’ I can’t get mad at him.”

That was Philip. He couldn’t get mad at anyone for long. He liked everybody, even those who, regarding him with envious eyes as a darling Child of Fortune, spoke harshly of him. He was essentially a nice, friendly guy. It was not in him to harm anybody, including those who tried to harm him.

And now he is dead, along with that fine and noble lady who was his mother-in-law, and that vivid, great-hearted, spirited girl who was so much like her great and illustrious father, foully murdered by hunted and persecuted men turned into wild, insensate beasts by grave injustices –men who, in laying ambush for Mr. Quirino and other government officials, brutally and mercilessly struck down innocent victims instead.

Philip Buencamino III had so much to live for: a charming, gracious wife who adored him, a chubby little son who will one day grow up into sturdy manhood with only a dim memory of his father, and another child on the way whom Philip now will never see. Handsome and talented, Philip had his whole future before him. His was a life so full of brilliant promise, and it is a great tragedy that it should have ended soon. He had been a top reporter before he entered the foreign service. With his charm and affability, his personal gifts and family prestige, there was no height he could not have scaled as a diplomat. The pity of it, the futile pitiful waste of it! A nice, clean, promising youngster sacrificed to the warring passions of men who have turned Central Luzon into a charnel house.

Incidentally, a very rare recording exists of Philip during his time as a radio commentator –and a member of the Malacañan Press Corps– you can listen to him being the emcee of sorts, in President Roxas’s first radio press conference.

Readers can access the diary of Victor Buencamino in full, or that of Felipe Buencamino III in full, as well; or, they can go through the entries for April 1942, which include other entries by other diarists who were writing at the same time.

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Posts added February 3-9, 2013

Victor Buencamino:

February 3, 1942

February 4, 1942

February 5, 1942

February 6, 1942

February 7, 1942

February 8, 1942

February 9, 1942

 

Lydia C. Gutierrez:

February 3, 1945

February 4, 1945

February 8, 1945

February 9, 1945

 

Francis Burton Harrison:

February 3, 1936

February 4, 1936

February 5, 1936

February 6, 1936

February 7, 1936

February 8, 1936

February 9, 1936

February 29, 1936: entry completed

 

Juan Labrador:

January 16, 1945

January 17, 1945

January 18, 1945

February 4, 1945

 

Ferdinand E. Marcos

February 3, 1970

February 4, 1970

February 5, 1970

February 6, 1970

February 7, 1970

February 8, 1970

February 9, 1970

 

Basilio J. Valdes:

February 6, 1945

February 7, 1945

February 8, 1945

Posts added January 27-February 2, 2013

Victor Buencamino:

January 28, 1942

January 29, 1942

January 30, 1942

January 31, 1942

February 1, 1942

February 2, 1942

 

Francis Burton Harrison:

January 28, 1936

January 29, 1936

January 30-31 & February 1-2, 1936

 

Juan Labrador:

January 21-29, 1942

January 31, 1945

 

Ferdinand E. Marcos:

January 28, 1970

January 29, 1970

January 30, 1970

January 31, 1970

February 1, 1970

February 2, 1970

 

Basilio J. Valdes:

February 5, 1945

 

To mark the anniversary of the Battle of Manila, starting tomorrow, we will be publishing the Liberation Diary of Lydia C. Gutierrez, which was originally published in the Sunday Times Magazine in 1967.

Entries added, January 21-27, 2013

Victor Buencamino:

January 21, 1942

January 23, 1942

January 24, 1942

January 25, 1942

January 26, 1942

January 27, 1942

 

Francis Burton Harrison:

January 21, 1936

January 22, 1936

January 25, 1936

January 27, 1936

 

Juan Labrador:

January 24, 1945

January 25, 1945

January 27, 1945

 

Ferdinand E. Marcos:

January 21, 1970

January 22, 1970

January 23, 1970

January 24, 1970

January 25, 1970

January 26, 1970

January 27, 1970

 

Other updates:

We will be adding two new diaries to the Philippine Diary Project:

The Clinical Record of President Manuel L. Quezon, the journal kept by his doctors and nurses from April 18-August 1, 1944.

The Liberation Diary of Lydia C. Gutierrez, covering one week of events during the Battle of Manila in February, 1945.

Earlier, we started adding entries from the Diary of Victor Buencamino (the first Filipino veterinarian), who was the father of another diarist featured in the project, Felipe Buencamino III. While Felipe Buencamino III was in Bataan, his father was serving as manager of NARIC, precursor of today’s National Food Authority.

 

Entries added, January 14-20, 2013

Victor Buencamino:

January 1, 1942

January 2, 1942: entry completed

January 3, 1942

January 4, 1942

January 5, 1942

January 6, 1942

January 7, 1942

January 9, 1942

January 10, 1942

January 11, 1942

January 12, 1942

January 13, 1942

January 14, 1942

January 15, 1942

January 16, 1942

January 17, 1942

January 18, 1942

January 19, 1942

January 20, 1942

 

Francis Burton Harrison:

January 15, 1936

January 18 & 19, 1936

January 20, 1936

 

Juan Labrador, OP:

January 18, 1942

January 19, 1942

January 20, 1942

 

Ferdinand E. Marcos:

January 14, 1970

January 15, 1970

January 16, 1970

January 17, 1970

January 18, 1970

January 19, 1970

January 20, 1970

 

Basilio J. Valdes:

January 19, 1942: corrected some names

Entries added, Jan. 1-5, 2013

Victor Buencamino:

January 2, 1942

April 8, 1942

April 10, 1942

April 11, 1942

April 26, 1942

December 16, 1944

 

Francis Burton Harrison:

January 1, 1936

January 2, 1936

January 3, 1936

January 4, 1936

August 11, 1936: completed entry

 

Salvador H. Laurel:

March 23, 1945 — Friday

March 24, 1945 — Saturday

March 27, 1945 — Tuesday

March 30, 1945 — Friday

October 7, 1985

October 18, 1985

October 31, 1985

November 11, 1985

November 12, 1985

November 21, 1985

November 23, 1985

December 7, 1985

December 8, 1985

December 11, 1985

February 13-17, 1986

February 22, 1986

February 23, 1986

February 24, 1986

February 25, 1986

 

Ferdinand E. Marcos:

January 1, 1970

January 2, 1970

January 3, 1970

January 4, 1970

January 5, 1970

 

Rafael Palma:

December 30, 1896

July 5, 1945 Thursday

This is one of my happiest days. I finally received a letter from my wife. I also received letters from all my children Lily, Tony, Dely and Lina (twins), Tesy, Alfredo, Remedios, Pacita, and little Menchu and my sons-in-law, Padilla and Cojuangco. My whole family is well. Everybody is in perfect health, and well provided for. They have plenty to eat, and they have not borrowed money; on the contrary they have more than enough. Tony is engaged in business, and my sons-in-law are helping very much. Paddy is engaged also in business and he made my wife one of the partners although she does not work and she put up no capital. Many friends have brought food, clothing and all kinds of things to my family. My wife especially mentioned Dr. and Mrs. Victor Buencamino, and our relatives from Batangas who gave them rice, eggs, fruits and vegetables.

Such a situation is more than I expected.

Our house in San Andres was burned down. All our belongings, together with my priceless collection of historical documents including many originals, furnitures, and objects of importance like the cane used by Pres. Quezon during his campaign in America for the approval of the Tydings-McDuffie Law which he gave me as a gift of appreciation for my participation in securing approval of the law, were lost in the fire.

July 31, 1942

Read a Guerillero’s poem. Somebody left it in my desk. Perhaps there are guerilleros in the office:

SOMEDAY

Someday, someday, I’ll live again,

I’ll sing again,

A song with freedom’s ring again.

My heart I’ll give again,

I’ll love again.

Beneath the moon above again.

But now I must flight,

For country and right,

Guerillero is the name for me

And my job to strike for liberty.

For the foe at one dark command,

From sky and shore

Swept down on our native land

And it’s ours no more.

o come and tramp with me

To right this hideous wrong with me.

Oh come and camp with me

Up to the hills with me

 And strike with me a blow for liberty

July 27, 1942

A Japanese civilian came to my office. He spoke arrogantly, bluffingly, threateningly. He wanted one of my rent houses. I showed him that I was not afraid of him. I asked for his name. And when I started dialing for the Military Police, he backed out and changed his tune.

Told Lolita of the incident. She was very nervous.

July 25, 1942

Made arrangements with Dr. Sison for the sending of sick war prisoners to his hospital.

Gave him ₱1,000 as contribution for Philippine General Hospital. He was very pleased.

Sent a war prisoner to Sison who was suffering with malaria. The young veteran had three bullet wounds. I wrote the doctor: “Please see what you can do for this soldier. He did not die of three bullet wounds but he may die of malaria.”

Played tennis with Sison. Defeated him.

July 17, 1942

Due to the increasing cost of living, the following salary readjustment has been made:

1. From ₱50 down, increase to ₱50 for permanent employees, one year in the service, regardless of merit.

2. From ₱50 to ₱100 varying increases according to merit.

3. ₱100 to ₱150—stationary. But “dead wood” will be reduced.

4. Above ₱150, definitely no increase, except to very exceptional and meritorious cases.

5. Total percentage of increase of permanent employees, 7%. ₱20,000 is calculated monthly salary of permanent employees. About ₱50,000 is total monthly salary of Manila and provincial, permanent and temporary employees. Not more than 300 employees will get an increase.

6. Provincial men. Reduce salary by 20% but give a per diem of ₱1.00 a day.

7. Reasons for increase: (a) hard work, including Saturday afternoons and Sundays; (b) lowest paid corporation, comparatively, (c) conducive to efficiency.

There’s nothing like getting a raise!

July 16, 1942

Studying “darak” supply for horse-owners. After a survey among carromata owners, it was found out that two gantas of “darak” are being consumed by a horse daily or 1.9 kilos, say, 2 kilos a day. This food, however, is supplemented with a little copra-meal, grass and molasses.

Another Japanese will be assigned to take charge of Cabanatuan branch.

Couldn’t play tennis. Rained.

July 15, 1942

More war prisoners released, thank God. The prison camps are death holes.

Attended a meeting of restaurant owners at the Office of the Mayor.

I made the following suggestions subject to the approval of the Naric and subsequently of the Military Administration:

(a) Each restaurant owner shall state the name and address of their restaurant, the amount of rice required and the approximate number of people usually served.

(h) The Naric will study the location of these restaurants and then decide on the method of distribution.

(c) The City of Greater Manila will be tentatively divided into the north and south districts, making the Pasig River as the dividing line. The Naric will appoint one member of the association for each of the two districts, who is to take delivery of the rice, either at the Naric or at designated stations, in accordance with the decision of our Distribution Department.

(d) There shall be levied a fee per sack from each restaurant as a means of financing the situation, say, 10 centavos per bag, but that is up to the association.

(e) The above-mentioned must be presented as soon as possible to the Naric, which will in turn present them to the Military Administration for approval.

Cloudy day. Occasional thunderstorms. Thought they were cannons.

July 13, 1942

Asked Unding Alunan to find out if Arthur Fischer is in the concentration camp for Americans in Camp Tinio. I want to help him.

Talked to Naric agents. Told them to impress upon the minds of distributors and these in turn to tell the leaders, that the Naric will conduct a house-to-house investigation in conjunction with the police. Neighborhood association leaders are urged to ask association members to correct misstatements in their reports, regarding the size of their families.

I reminded the agents that ample warnings have been given and so those caught doctoring their family cards will be punished. I made it clear to them that these orders do not come from the Naric, but from the Military Administration.

Placards will be distributed in each station to inform the people as to distribution hours in each station. Notwithstanding announcement of such hours, distributors must remain their stations at least until 3 p.m. if one or more leaders fail to get their sacks of rice during distribution hours. Naric trucks arrive at these stations at about 12:45 p.m.

In all cases, distributors must wait for the Japanese supervisor to turn in the coupons for the day before closing up. The idea behind all these instructions is to favor the leaders and not to inconvenience them. Mr. Inada suggested the formation of an Association of Rice Distributors to make arrangements collectively for their needs, such as push carts, tarpaulins and cargadores and then they can deliver rice to the leaders of the Neighborhood Associations covered by their respective associations.

Sulit believes this plan is impractical. Push carts which are in business are the most economical means of transporting rice from station to residence of leaders, he stated, and present arrangement is satisfactory to leaders and distributors. Furthermore, Neighborhood Associations are not circumscribed around distribution stations, he pointed out. Sulit said that one such association was organized two days ago in Calle Andalucia.

Very tired. I need a vacation but it is useless to broach the question. The answer will be “not now.”

July 12, 1942

A house-to-house inspection is being planned to check up if the reported number of family members tallies with actual facts. People who have increased the members of their household maliciously, will be punished accordingly.

Played tennis with Vargas. Defeated him. He seems to be very tired and worried.

July 10, 1942

Thinking of Pagu. At a dinner at the Hotel with Major Nishimura, I asked about Pagu. The interpreter said in broken Spanish: “Ese para muerto ya” and he made a gesture with his hands as though slitting his throat. I got pale. I said: “But he is a very good man. He is very needed in the Naric. And what he did was nothing. Everybody had these leaflets. I also.” The interpreter laughed.

July 9, 1942

Invited to a pancitada by Dr. Gregorio San Agustin at a dinner by the Bureau of Animal Industry to some 20 Japanese veterinarians.

Fukada, Naric Supervisor-de-Facto, notified me that all goods of the National Trading Corporation at 1010 Azcarraga had been taken by the Army.

Told Philip to stop listening to foreign broadcasts. You can’t trust the servants.

July 8, 1942

Mr. Toyama, a very nice, educated Japanese, employee of Mitsui, will teach the family Japanese, twice a week in the evenings. My son Vic refused to study. He said “It’ll be a dead language, after this war.” I told him: “You don’t lose anything by studying Japanese.”

Naric Inspection Division will now survey the makers of “Puto” and “bibingka” on a large scale. Naric will sell binlid directly to those large-scale makers.

Went home early. Listened to KGEI but there was too much static.

July 4, 1942

No parades, no celebrations—in public.

Cozy little parties, drinks, dancing, singing—in private.

The Filipinos have learned to celebrate on July 4th.

More trouble from Mr. Inada. Mr. Felix Gonzalez, formerly Bulletin reporter, presented his resignation. Said he couldn’t stand Inada’s arrogance. Inada shouted at Gonzalez for not knowing mess hall regulations. Gonzalez answered him in an equally strong way. Inada remained silent.

Some people were expecting American planes to drop one-ton bouquets.

Told the boys in the office: If any Japanese in this office hits you, hit them back. If they bring you to Fort Santiago, I’ll go with you…

Conching’s birthday. The family had lauriat.

July 3, 1942

Am writing a letter to Fort Santiago requesting the release of Pagulayan and Unson. Will give the following reasons:

(1) They are good, useful men.

(2) They have excellent records in the government service.

(3) Whatever propaganda they disseminated has been checked.

(4) They have been more than sufficiently penalized.

I also offered the guarantee Pagu’s good conduct with my life.

Lolita praying for their release. She sent Pagu a medal of Santa Teresita.

Played tennis and bowling.