It was my 8th-grade history teacher, Mr. Danhausen, who started me on my life-long obsession with World War II.
It was my friend, Anthony Garrett, who provided me with a copy of his grandfather's journal.

Elwood Llewellin Garrett was an American businessman in Manila at the time of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.
This is his story, as he recorded it, of living under Japanese rule in an enemy-occupied foreign land.

March 15, 1942

(This is the 3rd of 3 installments for this entry.)

On the afternoon of December thirty-first; the piers and customs district were heavily bombed again, leaving that whole section in flames. New Years eve, together with several friends, we went to the Manila Hotel for dinner in an effort to bolster up our spirits. The tension of war was so great that nobody could get "organized" in spite of the number consumed. I sure tried but no soap. During dinner, there was another raid on the piers which is about 300 yards from the hotel and again we caught hell. We all grabbed up our drinks and "high-tailed" off to the shelter from where we could hear and feel the bombs bursting close by. Several bombs felt as though they had hit the hotel just above us but upon emerging, discovered we were lucky once again and only the customs district was ablaze more than ever. This seemed to take the wind out of everyones sails completely so we had one more drink to see the old year out and have a start for the new, then hit for home. Another occasion I shall long remember.

Next morning, upon awakening and reading the morning paper, we learn that our forces had with-drawn from the city to the north and the Japs were walking in. We expected Manila would be an Open City, thereby making it safe for residents, so we stayed at home to await developments. Howard, number one man of our interests out here, also was living in this neighborhood so we all moved in together on January second. With the exception of the gas, electric, telephone and water Company, all business had ceased to operate. The American High Commissioner, F. B. Sayer, instructed all residents to stay at home and not to leave them, as reinforcements were on their way and everything would be under control in a short time. Then he goes off to Corregidor and eventually to the United States by a flying fortress, out of the danger zone. Incidently Mr. Sayer does not enjoy a very good reputation in these parts now. He never was very popular and this last stunt had not helped any as you might well imagine.

As soon as the Japs moved in, they started rounding up all beligerents and putting them in a concentration camp. We were told that this would be for only a few days in order to register us. They caught up to us on Saturday, January tenth; and off we went to camp with food and clothes to last us for three or four days. After we were in, we learned that others had been here for over a week and this three day business was all "bunk." The reason, as we found out later to our sorrow, for telling us it would be for only three days, was so that they would have more to loot at our homes, which they did systematically soon after we were locked up. From reports that reached us, the things they did not want they broke up and left everything in one heluvamess. All our homes have been looted of everything of value, so are now right back to where we started from.

My cook and houseboy got scared stiff soon after war broke out and deserted me so I had no one to guard my apartment or let me know what had gone on, but expect the worse.

The aforegoing, so far as I can recollect, brings us up to the beginning of life at the University of Santo Tomas Internment Camp. You have probably read and heard all sorts of stories about us so here is one right from the field of battle.

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