Finally about
0800 hours, everything
seemed to be ready. Shouting and waving disabled prisoners filled the
windows and doors as our long line moved slowly through the gate and
dawn Rizal Avenue. When the line was about was quickly reversed and
hurried back into the prison: "Kura! Hully, Hully! Speeda! Speeda!"
We couldn't see any planes, but were kept in line far hours. Sweat
rolled freely dawn our faces and backs. Guards went among us, picking
up mosquito nets and tropical helmets: "Don't need in Japan!"
At 1100 hours, the long line moved slowly out the gate. Rizal Avenue
was crowded with saber, gaping Filipinas not the, happy-go-lucky ones
we had known before the war. Occasionally when hidden from guards,
they would give us a "V" sign. We dared not acknowledge it.
We could see "pity" on their faces as we passed dawn the streets, by
the Metropolitan Theater and over the Passig Bridge. The natives'
looked haggard and ragged. Most of them were on foot rather than
riding the usual caratellas or caramettas (pony carts). Many stores
were closed, boarded-up. Many homes showed signs of looting. Metal had
been removed from every available place-iron bars from windows,
manhole covers from streets taken to Japan far making armaments.
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