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.

April 1, 1942

We're still here and that's no foolin' either. A few April fool pranks were played on various ones in camp this morning, so we do have our fun along with it all.

As is the usual custom every evening after curfew, we sit out in front of the building and exchange rumors of the day. Last nite they were all bad for our side so naturally most everyone is in low spirits today. It is reported that our forces in Bataan are suffering heavy losses the past few days due to a big push the Japs are putting on. There has been considerable air activity again and it seems that planes are always droning over head in the direction of Corregidor and Bataan.

Last nite from 8:00 to 9:00 PM there seemed to be heavy bombing going on about twenty miles or so away from us. We could also hear the distant rumbling of what might have been heavy artillery. So far today no rumors have come in about what it was. We will probably get them at the session this evening and expect that there will be some fantastic stories among them.

Another wave of abuses as practiced by the Japs on civilians outside has come in from various sources and as they sound very likely, I record them here.

Apparently the devils are following their cowardly methods by picking on women and old men. Many cases are reported of men and women being slapped down for not bowing to the Jap sentries. If the happen to have packages in their arms, same are torn open and the contents strewn over the street. This has happened to both Americans out on pass, and Filipinos alike.

There was a case here in camp this morning of a Chinaman who was bringing the padres some supplies; the Jap sentries at the gate took the stuff and said it could not be delivered. When he asked for a receipt from the sentry so that he could show his boss, the sentries beat him up un-mercifully then let the poor devil lay there until he could gain enough strength to walk away.

It makes my blood boil when I hear of these things and know I can do nothing about it. But every dog has his day and I'm looking forward to it "con mucho gusto." My principal concern now is in getting out of this camp right side up. Although concentration camps have never been known to be bombed, you can never tell what these devils will do. I am hoping that when our boys come in they come in a hurry and leave them no chance to do any dirty work. Most every one seems to think that when they are driven out of Manila, they will destroy the power and water supply, which is not at all unlikely, for I wouldn't put anything passed them.

This morning we had a little spark of encouragement when a plane with an entirely different sounding motor went over head, hell bent for leather, from the sound. It was flying so high in the clouds we could not see it. Most everyone ran out to see and seemed to agree that it must have been an American plane. Things like that buck up the moral and now you may even see a smile once in a while.

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