Bataan Death March : it's called "They"
Jon Ford
austin-ghetto-list@pairlist.net
Sun Jun 6 02:25:50 2004
<html><div style='background-color:'><DIV class=RTE>
<P>Well, I guess that's not it; it's the same poem Michael sent.</P>
<P>Jon<BR><BR></P></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>>From: "Jon Ford" <jonmfordster@hotmail.com>
<DIV></DIV>>Reply-To: austin-ghetto-list@pairlist.net
<DIV></DIV>>To: austin-ghetto-list@pairlist.net
<DIV></DIV>>Subject: RE:Bataan Death March : it's called "They"
<DIV></DIV>>Date: Sat, 05 Jun 2004 22:31:51 -0700
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>"Bataan Death March"-- i found it right away:
<DIV></DIV>>"THEY"...a story in verse of the Death March of Bataan during World
<DIV></DIV>>War II
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>> This story was lived by Jesse Knowles and written in April,
<DIV></DIV>>1943, while he and several hundred other Americans were
<DIV></DIV>>Prisoners-of-War of the Japanese in Mukden, Manchuria. During the
<DIV></DIV>>march from Mariveles, on the southern end of the Bataan Peninsula,
<DIV></DIV>>to San Fernando, 55 miles away, 76,000 American and Filipino
<DIV></DIV>>prisoners of war were bound, beaten, or killed by their Japanese
<DIV></DIV>>captors. Some were bayoneted when they fell from exhaustion. Some
<DIV></DIV>>were forced to dig their own graves and were buried alive. Only
<DIV></DIV>>56,000 prisoners reached camp alive. Thousands of them later died
<DIV></DIV>>from malnutrition and disease. In August, 1945, the Russian Army
<DIV></DIV>>liberated the prison camp in Mukden and the first Americans they saw
<DIV></DIV>>were at the Harbor of Darien, Manchuria, when the U.S. Navy loaded
<DIV></DIV>>the prisoners aboard a ship for the long-awaited trip home....to the
<DIV></DIV>>U.S.A.
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>Strange things were done under the tropic sun
<DIV></DIV>>By the men in Khaki twill
<DIV></DIV>>Those tropic nights have seen some sights
<DIV></DIV>>That would make your heart stand still
<DIV></DIV>>Those mountain trails could spin some tales
<DIV></DIV>>That no man would ever like
<DIV></DIV>>But the worst of all was after the fall
<DIV></DIV>>When we started on that hike
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>T'was the 7th of December in '41
<DIV></DIV>>When they hit Hawaii as the day begun
<DIV></DIV>>T'was a Sunday morning and all was calm
<DIV></DIV>>When out of nowhere there came the bombs
<DIV></DIV>>It didn't last long but the damage was done
<DIV></DIV>>America was at war with the rising sun
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>Now over in the Philippines we heard the news
<DIV></DIV>>And it shook every man clean down to his shoes
<DIV></DIV>>It seemed like a dream to begin
<DIV></DIV>>But soon every soldier was a fighting man
<DIV></DIV>>Each branch was ready to do its part
<DIV></DIV>>Artillery, infantry, Nichols and Clark
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>And then they came on that Monday noon
<DIV></DIV>>They hit Clark field like a typhoon
<DIV></DIV>>That Monday night the moon was clear
<DIV></DIV>>They razed Nichols from front to rear
<DIV></DIV>>As the days went by more bombers came
<DIV></DIV>>And soon only a few P-40's remained
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>Then the orders came and said retreat
<DIV></DIV>>That no man would be seen on the city streets
<DIV></DIV>>So across the bay we moved at night
<DIV></DIV>>Away from Manila and out of sight
<DIV></DIV>>Deep into the jungles of Bataan
<DIV></DIV>>Where 15,000 were to make a stand
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>Here we fought as a soldier should
<DIV></DIV>>As the days went by we spilled our blood
<DIV></DIV>>Tho' the rumors came and went by night
<DIV></DIV>>That convoy never came in sight
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>April 7th was a fatal day
<DIV></DIV>>When the word went around that we couldn't stay
<DIV></DIV>>That the front line was due to fall
<DIV></DIV>>So the troops moved back one and all
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>The very next day the surrender came
<DIV></DIV>>Then we were men without a name
<DIV></DIV>>You may think here's Where the story ends
<DIV></DIV>>But actually here's where it begins
<DIV></DIV>>Tho' we fought and didn't see victory
<DIV></DIV>>The story of that march will go down in history
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>We marched along in columns of four
<DIV></DIV>>Living and seeing the horrors of war
<DIV></DIV>>And when a man fell along the way
<DIV></DIV>>A cold bayonet would make him pay
<DIV></DIV>>For those four months he fought on bataan
<DIV></DIV>>Then they'd kill him 'cause he couldn't stand
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>The tropic sun would sweat us dry
<DIV></DIV>>For the pumps were few that we passed by
<DIV></DIV>>But on we marched to a place unknown
<DIV></DIV>>A place to rest and a place to call home
<DIV></DIV>>Home not that you might know
<DIV></DIV>>But home to man that suffered a blow
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>Then to O'Donnell Camp en masse
<DIV></DIV>>Some never back thru' those gates to pass
<DIV></DIV>>In Nipa huts we lived like beast
<DIV></DIV>>Bad rice and camotes were called a feast
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>Our minds went back to days gone by
<DIV></DIV>>When our throats were never dry
<DIV></DIV>>Of our wives, our mothers, and friends
<DIV></DIV>>Of our by-gone days and our many sins
<DIV></DIV>>And about four thousand passed away
<DIV></DIV>>And how many more no man can say
<DIV></DIV>>For no tomb stone marks the spot
<DIV></DIV>>Where thirty to fifty were buried in lot
<DIV></DIV>>Piled together as a rubbish heap
<DIV></DIV>>The remains of men
<DIV></DIV>>Who were forced to retreat
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>Now I want to state and my words are straight
<DIV></DIV>>And I bet you think they're true
<DIV></DIV>>That if you gotta die it's better to try
<DIV></DIV>>And take them with you too
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>It's they that took us that fatal day
<DIV></DIV>>It's they that made us pay and pay
<DIV></DIV>>It's they that counted us morn and night
<DIV></DIV>>It's they that again we wanted to fight
<DIV></DIV>>It's they that made us as we are
<DIV></DIV>>But it's not they that'll win this war
<DIV></DIV>>For the men in khaki will come some day
<DIV></DIV>>And take us back to the U.S.A.
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;From: &quot;Byron Black&quot; &lt;blacky@cbn.net.id&gt;
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;Reply-To: austin-ghetto-list@pairlist.net
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;To: &lt;austin-ghetto-list@pairlist.net&gt;
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;Subject: Fill a Veen
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;Date: Sun, 6 Jun 2004 02:56:24 +0700
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;I taught with Phil Levine at Fresburg state from 1967-69. He was
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;peripherally (fearfully?) involved in the antiwar thing.
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;Always enjoyed his company and nice (if somewhat cynical) take
<DIV></DIV>>on things.
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;Good poet too.
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;By the way I'm looking and looking without success for a poem
<DIV></DIV>>called BATAAN
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;DEATH MARCH and it's not by Randall Jarrell but it's like one of
<DIV></DIV>>his poems,
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;and I've gone 12 dimensions and sideways in Google to try and
<DIV></DIV>>unearth it (or
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;the poet). Something about &quot;barebacked streets&quot; in the
<DIV></DIV>>USA bringing to mind
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;the death march.
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;Any, er, ideas?
<DIV></DIV>>&gt;
<DIV></DIV>>&
<DIV></DIV>>
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