There had been no lack of bravery on the deck. Officers
continued to wave their sabers at the pilots. During the last bombing,
fragments of rock flew into the hold; our ship had been beached on the
Zambales coast to prevent its sinking.
As the sun went down, we could feel the ship backing off the shore. By
watching the shadows rotate around the mast, we could tell that we
were headed to the west, out to sea. We wondered if the ship was fit
for further voyage.
Our food carriers, returning from the kitchen above, reported,
"All the other ships in the convoy are gone-probably sunk."
As we moved out to sea, we heard muffled explosions - depth charges
to keep submarines away.
After several hours the engines stopped and we drifted gently for some
time, and then the anchors were dropped. We could hear small boats
coming alongside. Wounded passengers were being taken off in the
darkness. A Japanese officer took several American doctors up on deck
to help the wounded. On returning, they reported, "The decks, cabins
and dining rooms are littered with
dead and dying. We had only candle light no medicines, no bandages.
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