Ghost Soldiers: The Epic Account of World War II's Greatest Rescue Mission

“Defeat had come slowly, steadily, over a period of four months. As in all great sieges, the fall of Bataan was not so much an emphatic decision of arms as it was an epic drawdown marked by increments of physical, spiritual, and material depletion. As John Hersey wrote at the time, the truth had come to the men of Bataan ‘in mean little doses.’”

The American surrender in the Battle of Bataan in April 1942 in the Philippines took longer than the invading Japanese forces anticipated. The US troops held out until it became clear that President Franklin D. Roosevelt was prioritizing the European war theater over the Philippines, and General McArthur did not receive any substantial help at that time. For this reason, many of the US troops were in poor shape physically and psychologically. Indeed, their health status contributed to the high death toll during the subsequent Bataan Death March. John Hersey was an American journalist who wrote Men on Bataan (1942), which discusses this topic in detail.

“Never had the US Army fought against an enemy about whom it knew so little. The initial encounter between victor and vanquished would involve an extreme clash of two proud cultures whose profound ignorance of one another predictably generated intense feelings of racial animus and mutual disdain.”

The American surrender after the Battle of Bataan in April 1942 revealed the clash between the US and Japan not only in obvious ways such as language, race and ethnicity, or culture, but even in terms of the approach to running the military. The US army was quite mechanized, whereas the Japanese—suffering from the US oil embargo and oil scarcity—relied more significantly on their infantry and marching on foot. For the Japanese, surrender was also considered shameful. In turn, the Americans perceived the Japanese with racial bias. These issues contributed to the already unequal interaction between the victor and vanquished in 1942.

“This was a genuine prison break. And not just any prison, but a prison full of those guys—the men they’d read about in the papers or knew firsthand, their friends and cousins and older brothers, seniors when they were sophomores. The guy from down the street whose mom was now in permanent mourning.”

The author describes the thought process of the Rangers, Alamo Scouts, and Filipino guerillas getting ready to carry out the rescue raid on the Cabanatuan POW camp. The raid had little strategic value but was an important humanitarian objective. The POWs who survived the Bataan Death March had been trapped in the camp for approximately three years, with the healthiest ones transported to Japan for forced labor and the sickest ones remaining. The quotation also highlights the fact that the American soldiers in the camp were not much different from their would-be rescuers. Indeed, they left for the Philippines shortly before the rescuers deployed themselves. For this reason, it seemed as if fate itself played a role in their misfortune.

“The Filipino friendship toward the United States was complicated by America’s racial paternalism and the miscellaneous affronts of a half century’s colonial rule. The United States had ‘won’ the islands from Spain as a result of the Spanish–American War of 1898, and then went on to fight a vicious campaign against the Philippine people which came to be known, inappropriately, as the Philippine Insurrection [. . .] In the end, more than 200,000 Filipinos died at the hands of United States soldiers, who called their Asian adversaries ‘gugus’ and tended to see the conflict as an extension of the Indian extermination campaigns for which they had been trained.”

Fighting a war on a third party’s territory, as was the case between the US and Japan in the Philippines, made the situation significantly more complex. The Filipinos were America’s colonial subjects who were mistreated and suppressed during a prolonged, brutal war immediately following the Spanish-American War. The mainland American perception of the Filipinos was paternalistic, at best, viewing them as children who were unable to govern themselves. In worse cases, it involved overt racism, and the same type of attitude and treatment as did the Indigenous Americans, as the author points out. For this reason, the question of loyalty was crucial during World War II, as some Filipinos went underground as guerillas supporting the US, others collaborated with the Japanese occupation troops, and others opposed both sides. Loyalty was especially important in the Cabanatuan rescue raid because the US troops depended on the hospitality of the local Filipino villagers and on the help of the Filipino guerillas. This subject is discussed further in the Colonialism and World War II: The Japanese, Americans, and Filipinos theme.

“The helplessness was the most dreadful part of it, the feeling of absolute impotence in the face of evil. For them, the shock of the gore was not unmanageable. For four months they’d been close to death. They’d seen killing, and many themselves had killed. But the emotional texture of warfare was vastly different from that of prisonerhood.”

The author contrasts the brutality and gore the US troops saw as combatants and as prisoners of war. As soldiers, they developed a certain level of desensitization to the extreme circumstances of war. As POWs, however, they were completely helpless and at the mercy of their captors. Their lack of agency over their own bodies and their inability to help their fellow POWs left them feeling impotent rage. Their ability to reclaim their lives even as captives once they arrived in the camp allowed some to survive, as the theme Human Survival in Extreme Conditions discusses.

“Usually they would go for the abdomen. The guard would drive his blade in deep and give it a jagged twist twist twist in the shape of a ‘Z’ to scramble the bowels. The victim’s legs would kick in nervous spasms. Stepping on the dying man’s sternum, the guard would remove the blade with a flourish […] After the first instance of this, the unspoken rule became clear: Those who could not keep pace were dead men. As Abraham marched, he saw scores of American and Filipino bodies that had been dispatched in this fashion and left to rot on the side of the road.”

This graphic description features the killing of Allied POWs during the Bataan Death March. The event was not an organized massacre but the result of incompetence and individual violence, according to the author. The Japanese victors did not account for the weakened health of the POWs nor adjusted their plan for daily distances and speed accordingly. Instead, they punished those unable to keep up. Overall, the Bataan Death March demonstrates the type of brutality and abuse that the POWs faced, breaking the Geneva Convention. It was also the starting point of their suffering, which continued at camps O’Donnell and Cabanatuan.

“The villagers didn’t love the Japanese, but they loved to talk. As a people, the Filipinos were famous for their garrulousness. They were the Irish of Asia, it was sometimes said—warm, openhearted, story-loving, with unslakable appetites for the latest rumor or fact. Throughout the Philippines, there was a phenomenon known as the Bamboo Telegraph. News of every kind seemed to race across the countryside, if not at electric speed, then close to it.”

Except for one village controlled by the anti-Japanese and anti-American Huks, the Filipino villagers the Rangers met were friendly, supportive, and hospitable. However, their talkativeness became a problem for the planned raid. Colonel Mucci learned that a mission that was supposed to be top secret was common knowledge for the villagers in the area. He feared that the Japanese would learn of it, too, putting everyone involved in danger. The Rangers had to trust Filipino loyalty—a question complicated by the impact of colonialism. Another important feature in this quotation is the Bamboo Telegraph—a word-of-mouth way to pass on messages in the countryside. The Telegraph also helped with messages sent to the POWs from the outside world helping maintain their morale.

“I desire to impress upon you that we are operating under a strictly absolute power. There is only one interpretation, and that is the Japanese interpretation. The Japanese make all decisions. From their orders, once formally issued, there is no appeal. Ours is a state of complete subjugation. Your duty therefore is to obey. Not only for your sake, but for the welfare of the entire personnel of the camp, I know that you will obey.” 

This statement comes from a circular sent by Colonel Curtis Beecher in the Cabanatuan camp. Not only were the Allied and Filipino prisoners of war under total Japanese control at Cabanatuan, but their captors also instituted the “blood brothers” system—the title of Part 1—to instill the fear of ultimate punishment and make the prisoners comply. They divided the prisoners into groups of 10. Should one member of the group significantly disobey, such as attempting an escape, all 10 would be expected. The Japanese only implemented this punishment on two occasions because the “deterrent was highly successful” (199). Surviving under the total control and surveillance of a POW camp underscores the resilience of the prisoners.

“Most of the time, they dreamt about food. Even in months of relative plenty, they were food-obsessed. They never tired of the subject. Next to food, women didn’t stand a chance. Sex was a distant memory, a vaguely amusing problem not germane to the subject. The subject was ice cream.”

Survival under extreme conditions is one of Hampton Sides’s overarching themes in this book. Low caloric intake and the lack of nutrients resulted in the prisoners of war losing a significant amount of weight and experiencing various health problems linked to vitamin deficiency, such as partially losing eyesight and hearing. For this reason, food—not women—was one of the most important subjects of obsessive fantasy and discussion. The author called it “gastrosado-masochism” (189).

“The villagers had prepared a classic Filipino fiesta, with all the gaiety and spare-no-cost lavishness, everyone brimming with a warmth that would almost seem cloying if it wasn’t so obviously sincere. Many of the Rangers welled with tears. That the people of Platero were throwing this kind of a reception in the midst of war’s misfortunes made their generosity all the more stirring.”

Fighting a war on a third party’s territory complicated matters both for the Americans and the Japanese. The Americans were the Filipinos’ colonizers, while the Japanese were their occupiers. The Filipinos’ response to World War II varied from collaboration with the Japanese to utmost loyalty to the Americans. In the case of most of the villagers that the American Rangers encountered, they were treated with generosity and respect, as demonstrated in this passage. As the Rangers headed on their dangerous mission, they showed an emotional appreciation of the hospitality shown by the locals who had experienced the horrors of war.

“‘It was such a complex group of people, none of whom had had any real dealings with one another before, not on such a scale,’ Prince said. ‘The main thing that made it conceivable to think we could succeed was that we were in friendly territory, with friendly people. Trying to do that somewhere else, I don’t think you could even come close.’”

These are the words of Captain Robert Prince, the main planner of the rescue raid. Camaraderie is one of the author’s main themes in this book—both for the rescued and the rescuers. In the case of the American Rangers and the Filipino guerillas, both had different fighting styles and had never met each other before. For this reason, teamwork, cooperation, appropriate military subordination, the support of the local Filipinos, and the clear leadership—of Colonel Mucci—all contributed to the success of the rescue.

“Dear Friend, So you are Phil’s wife. Your letter was a God-send. I had begun to think that we in here were the Forgotten Men. Thanks for the money. I sure can use it. I’ll be known from here on as Sky Pilot.”

This example is one of the many letters exchanged between the American spy, Claire Phillips, known as “High Pockets,” and the POWs at Cabanatuan. Claire’s husband died at that camp, but she continued to help the others by smuggling food, medicine, and messages. Having communication with the outside world in a POW camp and disastrous living conditions was extremely important to the survival of the prisoners, especially their will to keep going. Here, the letter’s author refers to himself and others as the “forgotten men” in reference to their indefinite imprisonment and unclear future.

“The guards stripped her and tied her to a bench. She felt something forced into her mouth, a cold nozzle of some kind. She heard the metallic creak of a spigot and then a stream of water gushed from the tube’s opening, at great pressure. This was the ‘water treatment’ about which she’d heard so many horror stories. Her throat and lungs flooded, and she began to drown.”

For her spy activities and smuggling aid into the POW camps, Claire Phillips was arrested by the Japanese occupation forces, tortured, imprisoned, and sentenced to death in Manila, Philippines. The Japanese did not carry out her sentence, however, and she was rescued by the American troops in 1945 in poor health. Claire’s story shows the importance of having contact with the outside world for the POWs and her own resilience and dedication to her cause.

“‘Mucci was so charismatic you couldn’t believe it,’ remembered Alvie Robbins. ‘He had this air of total confidence about him. If you ever had to go to war, that’s the kind of man you wanted to go with.’ Vance Shears put it this way: ‘We all would have died for him. He was the very best.’”

Colonel Mucci’s leadership was a key factor in the raid, as this witness statement shows. The mission united soldiers and guerillas with different fighting styles who did not know each other. It was Mucci who hand-picked some of the participants, such as Robert Prince. It was Mucci who provided the overarching organization by leading the group. It was Mucci who made life-and-death decisions that required the utmost trust of his soldiers. Finally, it was Mucci who motivated the POWs on their long journey out of the camp toward the American lines.

“The camp was imposing in size and appeared to be well guarded, but even from their safe remove the Rangers could see that it was no impregnable citadel. The enclosure enjoyed no height advantages, no defensive works, no intervening obstacles of water. Rising only slightly above the vegetational haze, the compound consisted merely of barbed wire stretched taut across a field, with wooden towers studding the corners. In an ordinary strategic sense, taking it should pose no insurmountable problems. What made the target so intimidating was its emphatic isolation. Cabanatuan was a world unto itself, standing alone, a civilizational cyst.”

Here, the author highlights the complex interplay between the material world and the psychological tension in preparing to carry out a dangerous mission. When the Rangers approached the Cabanatuan POW camp just before their rescue raid, they realized that the camp was not an impenetrable fortress but a manageable enclosure that would not be difficult to capture. However, there was also a psychological factor involved in perceiving Cabanatuan as an unknown and highly isolated place, even with some reconnaissance information at hand.

“Not that it was any surprise that MacArthur’s army was drawing close. The jury-rigged radio hidden in camp had kept the prisoners apprised of the Sixth Army’s leapfrogging advance from New Guinea. They had heard accounts of the battle of Leyte Gulf, the largest naval engagement in history, in which the Japanese were decisively defeated by Admiral Nimitz’s dreadnoughts. They’d heard that MacArthur had waded onto the Philippine island of Leyte, some four hundred miles to the southeast.”

The prisoners developed a renewed sense of hope when they heard of the US Army’s advances in the Asia-Pacific theater through word-of-mouth, such as General MacArthur’s famous Leyte landing in October 1944. Seeing the US airplanes over the camp more frequently confirmed this sense of hope. Furthermore, whereas this book is focused on social history—the lives of POWs—and their individual biographies, quotations like this provide the general World War II context and help situate the POW’s experiences.

“On many different levels, the Palawan tragedy hit close to home. Puerto Princesa was a well-known satellite of Cabanatuan. Many times over the past three years, work details composed of Cabanatuan men had left for Palawan, never to be heard from again. Everyone in camp had friends and acquaintances who were supposed to be there.”

The Palawan Massacre in December 1944 was one of the key motivating factors for the rescue raid on the Cabanatuan POW camp (See: Background). As the American troops advanced in the Asia-Pacific war theater, the retreating Japanese sometimes responded with reprisals against the POWs. Furthermore, the massacre was personal for many at Cabanatuan because they knew its residents. For this reason, the Cabanatuan POWs were filled with hope—hearing about the US advance—and fear because they knew they could face the same fate as their Palawan counterparts.

“‘The idea of an aerial decoy was a little unusual,’ said Prince, ‘and honestly, I didn’t think it would work, not in a million years. But the pilot’s maneuvers were so skillful and deceptive that the diversion was complete. I don’t know where we would have been without it.’”

The Rangers used the Black Widow, a P-61 airplane, to repeatedly fly over the Cabanatuan POW camp, distracting the guards and allowing the Rangers to get into position. On top of the fear of an aerial bombing, the plane’s menacing look created a threatening emotional atmosphere for the Japanese guards and destabilized them. According to the rescue’s planner and key participant, Captain Robert Prince, the decoy idea was one of the chief factors that made the raid a success.

“Their nerves flitted and raced. They imagined that every noise was trebled, that the Japanese could hear the sound of their dripping sweat, their chattering teeth, the train of their own thoughts […] ‘We felt like they could hear us breathing,’ Roy Peters said. ‘They were just thirty feet away. We sat in the dark listening to them talk and talk, wondering which of them would be the first to die.’”

These are the moments just before the raid, as guerillas were in position on the highway, while Companies C and F were at the front and back of the Cabanatuan POW camp. The author builds up suspense, leaving the chapter on a cliffhanger. In turn, using quotations from the raid’s participants enhances the reader’s understanding of their thought processes and feelings, making oral history a crucial part of the book.

“It is urgently requested that you do not expose milk cans, empty or filled, to the view of the Japanese. It is felt that if they know we have milk they may demand that we turn it over to them. Attention is called to the fact that there are Japanese camping on the east side of the camp, and there are roving guards all around this area. Please consider the safety of others if not of yourself.” 

This quotation is a sign posted on the American side of the Cabanatuan POW camp in January 1945. The Japanese guards departed the camp and left the POWs to their own devices. The latter appropriated the food from the Japanese side of the camp to improve their caloric intake and nutrition. Then the new Japanese soldiers arrived and reinstated the guards. The POWs feared that the Japanese would discover that they were eating better than usual and punish them. The fact that condensed milk would motivate writing such a sign shows the extent to which the POW’s situation was dire.

“No longer having to concern themselves with the specter of tanks raging through camp, C Company could now turn to the most satisfying aspect of the evening’s work—storming the bastille. A group of Rangers ran toward the American section of the compound, brandishing wire cutters. A Ranger named Lester Malone ran up to the main American gate and inspected the lock [. . .] [He] yanked off the lock and opened up the gates to the American prison. ‘We’re Yanks!’ he yelled. ‘This is a prison break! Head for the main gate!’”

Storming the Bastille was one of the iconic moments of the French Revolution of 1789. The Bastille was a political prison and a symbol of the king’s authority. Here, the Rangers stormed the Cabanatuan POW camp—a symbol of Japanese control over the Philippines, in general, and Allied POWs, specifically—and rescued the prisoners. The quotation also describes an adrenaline-fueled exhilaration of carrying out a dangerous, yet satisfying task with little strategic, but significant humanitarian value.

“Slowly, the awareness that this was a jailbreak was beginning to sink in among the rest of the prisoners. They were reacting with a kind of catatonic ecstasy, numb and inarticulate. One prisoner wrapped his arms around the neck of the first Ranger he saw and kissed him on the forehead. All he could say was, ‘Oh boy! Oh boy! Oh boy!’ Alvie Robbins found one prisoner muttering in a darkened corner of one of the barracks, tears coursing down his face. ‘I thought we’d been forgotten,’ the prisoner said. ‘No, you’re not forgotten,’ Robbins said. ‘We’ve come for you.’”

Most of the book relies on parallel narratives, designating alternating chapters to the events in the Cabanatuan camp and among the US Rangers and Filipino guerillas. In Chapter 12, the climax of Ghost Soldiers, the two narratives collide, yet the author continues to portray events from the POWs’ and rescuers’ points of view. Here, the reader views the rescue both from the perspective of a prisoner and a Ranger. Another noteworthy aspect of this quotation is the concept of the “forgotten” men, which the author uses throughout the book. Some of the POWs referred to themselves in this way because their imprisonment was indefinite and liberation seemed unlikely. Feeling forgotten was a significant psychological factor for the prisoners.

“Some of the Rangers welled with tears at the hideous procession and tried to offer comfort. ‘They tucked our men under their arms like babies,’ said Ralph Hibbs. ‘They shook their heads in disbelief and cried at the sight of these emaciated countrymen so far down the starvation trail.’”

Here, the author presents the rescue from the Rangers’ point of view. They were shocked at what they saw in the Cabanatuan POW camp once they broke in. Many of the prisoners experienced extreme weight loss due to chronic malnutrition and low caloric intake. Their failing health complicated the rescue because they had to walk for miles to the American lines. Foreseeing the difficulties, the Rangers and the guerillas used water buffalo and carts to help transport the rescued prisoners.