Memories of a week that took forever

By CASSANDRA HAMMAN
Special to the Saipan Tribune

Antonio Manalisay remembers walking on warm blood. It was June 1944 and he and his family were fleeing to Talafofo. The 11-year-old child was barefoot and the stench of death was everywhere. As they stepped over the bodies of dead Japanese soldiers and civilians, Antonio said he remembers the slippery feel of warm blood pooling on the ground, leaving a sticky residue on his feet to which the rough ground and small pebbles would adhere to.

“We passed by dead Japanese civilians,” said Antonio. “I was barefoot and I remember walking over warm blood. I remember that very distinctly. A little baby crying ‘mama, mama’ in Japanese…I guess the mother had died.”

Sixty years have passed by since then but for Antonio, now 71, the power of such distant memories still resonates in his mind. People say that traumatic events experienced as a child leave an indelible mark on a person, scorching themselves into the nooks and crannies of one’s memory and taking little to trigger them.

When asked to relate his wartime experiences, it took little effort for Antonio to conjure up June 1944 in his mind. Folding his wrinkled fingers and looking up at the barren ceiling, Antonio slowly forgot that he was inside a tiled house atop Capitol Hill. His eyes deep and glassy, he told his story simply, a stark tale of what it was like to be a child caught in the grip of a relentless war.

“I was 11-years-old,” he said clearing his throat. “The Japanese took over Garapan and we Chamorros had to get out.”

The Manalisay family picked up their belongings and moved straight to Navy Hill. Here they watched the battle rage from above in a 10 sq. foot man-made cave, anticipating their next move and not knowing their destination.

“I recall all the adult male…they have to go at night right down by Santa Lourdes to a spring of water, so they’d bring the water back to where we were,” he said.

After a few days, his father grew tired and decided to venture on to As Teo. This was not easy. With the relentless fall of bombs and shootings by day, this means that traveling could only take place at night, through the thick jungle and with slivers of light from the moon.

After two nights of travel, the Manalisays moved in with the Borja family in As Teo. The house sat in an open field where American aircraft hovered in the angry sun. On the fourth day, a Japanese soldier decided to enter the premises.

“I heard rumors that he was trying to enter the house,” said Antonio. Spotted by the Americans, a shower of bullets tore through the Borja home. Antonio frantically dove under a table, closed his eyes and waited until the bullets stopped.

“I then heard my father call my mother and said, ‘Come and get the baby; I’m dying,’” he said. A bullet from a .50-caliber machine gun had blasted into his father’s arm all the way to his heart. “I could see him bleeding to death. He died right there.”

Mrs. Borja, who was praying, held a pillow over her dark hair. A bullet had hit her on the head. She never moved again. “If I remember right, she was 7 months pregnant. The poor lady,” he said.

When evening fell, the group had no other choice than to keep moving. Antonio’s mother, Antonia, led her five children to Talafofo. As they picked through the damp darkness, flares would appear and light up the surrounding. “Freeze!” someone from the group would whisper. Everyone would crouch down until the lights are gone.

As they traveled, they would come across scores of dead bodies hidden beneath the shadows. They had to pick their way carefully around them. Antonio said he was unable to see, but he could smell death and listen.

With the sun hovering over the blistered land, the Manalisay family finally reached a place with running water in Talafofo. The group shared raw meat and spent four days there. Eventually the Americans dropped leaflets for the locals, giving them information on safe havens where they can get away from the bitter violence.

“At that point we learned no one could leave without authorization by the Japanese. They didn’t want spies,” said Antonio. His sister Candeleria knew fluent Japanese and convinced a general to allow them to go.

Next was Tanapag where the family lived in a cave for one week. “But when you have no food or water it seems like forever,” he said. “We would go look for young coconut and try to find water.”

Eventually the idea of death was possible inside or outside the jagged walls of the natural cave. It was down to a choice of either starving or escaping.

“That morning…I get goosebumps,” he said folding his arms against his chest. “A Chamorro opened up the cave’s mouth and called out, ‘Is there anybody besides us [Japanese]?” The response: “No”

When the families crept out, they were astounded. On top of the cave was a huge machine gun. Chaos then broke out, with bullets flying everywhere and acrid smoke filling the air.

“I just leaned against a coconut tree to see what was going on. Bullets flew by my face,” he said. The families scattered and were now caught in the complete chaos. “I was never afraid,” Antonio said. “I knew I wasn’t going to die.”

The Americans eventually called for cover and dropped a bomb, ending the battle. As the dead Japanese lay in scattered piles, the U.S. soldiers proceeded to pass out food and water to the Chamorros.

“I mean it was war. You could see the Japanese soldiers dying, rotting out and the American Marines eating like nothing. That’s part of war,” he said.

Later the Manalisay family was loaded onto a truck and taken to Camp Sususpe. Surrounded by barbed wire, the camp held tents with dirt floors. Although muggy, damp and feverishly hot, the Manalisay family no longer had to run. After the liberation, the Americans rationed food for the Chamorros.

“I used to see Mrs. Tomumichu and give her food because their ration was limited; they were the enemy,” he said. The Tomumichu family owned the Tomumichu business that employed Antonio’s father. “We were not supposed to give to the Japanese, but I used to sneak rice or a can of corned beef or anything.”

After months in the camp, the family moved to Chalan Kanoa where houses were available for the native families. The Manalisay family, however, did not stay on Saipan. In 1947 they moved to Guam to rebuild their lives and put behind the horrors of war.