For months we had anticipated war with Japan. We were the nearest U.S.
base to Japan, so were very sensitive to any war-like talk or
gestures. Actually, the thoughts of war hadn't bothered me too much; a
farmer had once told me, "If you are going to get kicked by a mule, it
is best to be close to the mule!" Over the last forty years, we knew
the Japanese had been preparing for war, taking scrap iron and raw
materials from the Philippines to Japan. Now, we had a strange feeling
that we might be getting some of these materials back in a more
sophisticated form.
We had no idea how, when or where this war would begin in the
Philippines. The last place we expected it would happen was Camp John
Hay, a Rest and Recreation Center (R.&R.), offering a delightful
climate for military and naval personnel and their dependents on duty
in the Far East, desiring temporary relief from the intense heat and
humidity of the lowlands.
Camp John Hay was pleasantly located one mile above sea level amongst
the pine trees of Mountain Province in Baguio, the summer capital of
the Philippines. It was only twenty miles from the beautiful white
sand beaches, the stately palms and the sweltering sun of Lingayen
Gulf.
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