Angels in the war field

During World War II, a group of American nurses assigned to the Philippines were imprisoned by the Japanese. Not one of the nurses died of disease or malnutrition during their three-year internment, even as hundreds of other internees perished. “Their ‘extraordinary’ survival proved that women, with their high moral purpose and concern for the other, can endure the worst that civilization can visit on itself,” said Dr. Elizabeth Norman, a registered nurse and NYU professor, who wrote a book about the nurses, who were also called ‘the Angels of Bataan and Corregidor’. She noted this “sense of duty” among the nurses on the frontline against the COVID-19 pandemic. “These nurses knew they had skills [that] were needed by many people, whether it was in wartime or during the pandemic… Their own safety from their captors or from a virus was not as important as nursing those in need.” 

While working on her book on military nurses who served in Vietnam, Dr. Elizabeth M. Norman kept coming across references to another group of nurses who had “fought” in another war, more than two decades back.

These were the 77 Army and Navy nurses, whom newspapers referred to as “the Angels of Bataan and Corregidor” during World War II.The nurses were assigned to the Philippines, which was not exactly a hardship military post, at least before December 8, 1941, when the US declared war against Japan, the day after the attack on Pearl Harbor.

Norman, a professor at a Professor at New York University’s Steinhardt School of Culture, Development and Education, said to the nurses, the Philippines was a “lush tropical paradise”, the military camps no different from country clubs, with their pristine beaches, sports facilities, palm groves, frangipani and orchids.

All these banished when the US and Filipino forces retreated to Bataan, along with the nurses and medical doctors. When the Allied Forces surrendered Bataan to the Japanese, and the American and Filipino soldiers embarked on the infamous “Death March”, the nurses were sent to Corregidor where they cared for the wounded in an underground hospital. They were taken prisoners by the Japanese and transported to a camp in Manila where they stayed for three years.

The untold story of the first captives of war

The “Angels” were the first unit of American women ever sent into the middle of battle. They were also among the first to be taken captive and imprisoned by the enemy. Norman knew their story would be compelling and chose it as the subject of her next book. After finishing her first book, Women at War: The Story of Fifty Military Nurses Who Served in Vietnam, Norman tracked down the surviving “Angels”, their relatives and other war veterans. 

It took her eight years to complete the research for the book, We Band of Angels: The Untold Story of American Nurses Trapped on Bataan by the Japanese. The book, published in 1999, “presents a war story in which the main characters never kill one of the enemy, or even shoot at him, but are nevertheless heroes,” wrote historian Stephen E. Ambrose. “These American nurses suffered as much, if not more, than the fighting troops in the front line.”

Norman began her research with the phone numbers of two of the “Angels” whom she had called in the spring of 1989. “Their willingness to cooperate came, I’m sure, from our sorority – nurse talking to nurse – but I also got the sense that these women were painfully aware that their ranks were dying, and that if they did not speak out now, if they did not attempt to preserve their dark but wonderful story, it would disappear,” said Norman, who has an undergraduate nursing degree from Rutgers University, and an MA and PhD in nursing from NYU.

The other nurses, she said, were not as open with their experiences and refused to see her. “It was too long ago and too hard to remember,” one nurse told her. Another wrote, “I regret that I am not able to assist you. I do not want to live in the past.”

Norman spoke to 20 of the women, some in their homes or in retirement residences, and talked to scores of their relatives and veterans. She said the difficulties she encountered had to do with the nurses’ age. “They were in their 70s, 80s and 90s. Many were ill and many died before I had the chance to speak to them.”

“Those women were generous with their time and memories,” said Norman. “We talked for hours. Their recall was amazing.”

Last woman standing: Lt. Mildred Dalton 

One of the nurses who shared her story was Lt. Mildred ‘Milly’ Dalton. Dalton died in 2013, aged 98, the last survivor of the Army and Navy nurses who had been captured by the Japanese in the Philippines. 

Thus, in the new edition of Angels, Norman added a chapter. ‘Last Woman Standing’ detailed Dalton’s final years. Norman wrote that years later, Dalton had nightmares filled with the blood and screams of the wounded. She had cut so many clothes off the wounded soldiers that she could still feel the pain in her fingers when she used scissors.

The nurses “challenged convention, ignored stereotypes and in their survival (their death rate in prison camp was zero) proved that women, with their high moral purpose and concern for the other, can endure the worst that civilization can visit on itself,” wrote Norman.

Perhaps the most unusual experiences came when they would cry about some particularly bad memory – such as the time they were separated from the military men and patients, and the Filipino nurses. This was in the summer of 1942 when the Philippines was about to fall to the Japanese forces, and the nurses were asked to leave their patients. Many of the nurses she interviewed wept when they remembered that moment when they were ordered to leave the “thousands of wounded and bleeding and feverish men, unarmed and utterly helpless,” in the jungle as the Japanese soldiers advanced. “They said it was one of the worst [experiences] of the war. They loved their colleagues and did not want to be separated from them.”

When she was researching for the book, Norman noted that the old US War Department only contained “raw actualities of the service and imprisonment” of these nurses. “These war crimes testimonies do not present evidence that the nurses survived prison camp or why and how they survived,” Norman said. “These early testimonies were gathered to present as evidence in the war crimes trial, not as a testimony to their survival.” 

Moreover, the focus of the testimonies was on the male prisoners of war, she said. Since then, the Army and a women’s veterans group have realised the need and benefits of salvaging women’s military experiences. The Women in Military Service to America, for instance, began to collect archival material from all women in the service, including the POWs. 

The Army Medical Museum in San Antonio, Texas, has also gathered a lot of information from all branches of the service on military women, said Norman. She also contributed to this mission, donating all the interviews, correspondence and photos she collected from the nurses to the MacArthur Memorial Museum in Norfolk, Virginia.

She said the American nurses frequently mentioned the Filipino nurses who worked with them in caring for the soldiers. “Their bravery and duty to the patients mirrored the American nurses,” she said. “I hope someone writes their stories soon too. It would be a shame to lose them.”

Interviewed by email from her home in Montclair, New Jersey, Norman shared her thoughts on the challenges faced by nurses, this time in the frontlines of the war against COVID-19.

“I believe the POW and Filipina nurses who worked in the civilian POW camps or supporting the rebels outside the camps, or those nurses who continued to go into their hospitals during the COVID-19 surge… knew about the dangers and hard work they had to do, [and] did so out of a sense of duty. These nurses knew they had skills [that] were needed by many people, whether it was in wartime or during the pandemic. Both groups had an urge to help people in dire need. Their own safety from their captors or from a virus was not as important as nursing those in need.” While neither group of nurses “had the tools of the era to give patients everything they needed, they improvised.”  

War is the ultimate masculine world

A combination of professional and personal interests led Norman to write the book on the “Bataan Angels”. Her mother, Dorothy Riley Dempsey, had served with the SPARS, the women’s branch of the Coast Guard. Her father, John J. Dempsey, was a combat veteran of World War II.

“I was interested in the intersection of women living in the ultimate masculine world – war; and nurses, whose mission is to save lives working in a war zone where killing is the main objective,” said Norman. The book allowed her to study “how women react under the worst of war’s circumstances.”

(Elizabeth Norman is also co-author of another book, together with her husband Michael, on another chapter of the second world war. Their book Tears in the Darkness: The Story of the Bataan Death March and its Aftermath describes the incidents of the three-month battle for the Bataan Peninsula, then moves on to April 9, 1942, when more than 76,000 Americans and Filipinos under the American command surrendered to the Japanese in what is now described as the single largest defeat in American military history. The sick and starving Filipino and American soldiers were ordered to walk 66 miles [approximately 106 kilometers] to their prisons. Norman said the book tells the story of the battle and the aftermath, from the American, Filipino, and the Japanese viewpoint, “which had never been done before.”)

In Angels, Norman wrote that in the battlefield, the nurses shed off their white starched uniforms and donned the soldier’s fatigue coveralls. The garments came in one size and were too big for the women. They cinched up the garments with safety pins and stitches. As it turned out, the fatigues became a short footnote to nursing history. The nurses were the first American military women to wear fatigues on duty. “The angels in white,” she wrote, “had learned to dress for the dirty business of war.”

When Manila was declared an open city, the army nurses evacuated the hospitals and were sent to field hospitals in Bataan and in Corregidor. Many of the women thought they were heading for hospitals and brought their standard white uniform, stockings, makeup, curlers and nursing school pins.

Norman wrote of hospitals where patients filled the wards, corridors, lobbies, the verandas, then out into the lawns and nearby tennis courts. “There was so much blood that at one point, the nurses came to look at their labor with dark irony: the bloody dressings, they said, made them think of the bright poinsettias that so typified their paradise.”

The women fried weeds in cold cream that came in the Red Cross Kits, and had fantasies about cooking more festive meals, like “chicken a la king in paddy shells,” or toasted bread baskets. They took comfort in the fact that the worms in their breakfast oatmeal had been sterilized during the cooking.

Norman had expressed her diffidence in using the word “Angels” in the title. The term, she said, is used by men – not women – and “most of us find it denigrating, insulting and just plain silly.”

Men use the term “to remind women to sacrifice, to work long hours for low pay, and not complain. It is meant to idealize women, to push them to be perfect, because that is the kind of woman, the kind of nurse, men want.”  

The American nurses in Bataan and Corregidor were not angels, she said. “They were human beings, as brave and as fearful as their male comrades, but after much thought, and a little prompting from my literary friends, I came to see the word ‘angel’ as a metaphor that married the conflicting ideas of bravery and compassion, heroism and care.”

“The nurses were also at war, but carried no guns…They fought fiercely to preserve life as everyone around them was bent on taking it. In that light, ‘Angels’ seems just right.”

‘We Band of Angels’ author Dr. Elizabeth Norman with Lt. Mildred ‘Milly’ Dalton, one of the US Army and Navy nurses who had been captured by the Japanese in the Philippines

The author, Divina Paredes, is a New Zealand-based writer interested in #CivilSociety #SpecialNeedsCommunity #SocialEnterprise #Data4Good #ICTTrends #Tech4Good #Digital Workplace & #Sustainability. Reach her via @divinap  

An interview with a data science activist

James Mansell is part of a small, but growing group of volunteers who are pushing for the responsible use of data to deliver social and economic value. What motivates him to immerse himself in this role?

Data is being hailed as the new oil. Its utilisation can spur the development of startups whose values have ballooned to billions of dollars, or uplift the bottom lines of established corporates even during tough times.

For James Mansell, data represents something else – using it responsibly to deliver both social and economic gains.

“I am a philosopher by training with a full-time job as a data science activist,” says Mansell, smiling.

The latter is an advocacy role Mansell took on, first when he was working in government , and continues as an independent adviser through the consultancy Noos which he had founded.

“I try and focus the government on being evidence-based and outcomes focused and I will talk to anybody who wants to push that agenda along,” he says. “It does not matter whether they are left, right or green.”

Mansell is part of a growing volunteer group taking on this advocacy, doing it from the corridors of government, through to not-for-profit organisations, and forums that reach both public agencies and enterprises.

In 2010, Mansell, as director of innovation and strategy at the Ministry of Social Development (MSD), pushed for increased use of shared data as part of the program to reform the welfare system. This included using advanced analytics for segmentation and risk profiling and using real time experiments or campaigns to measure return on investment on government funding for these programs.

Mansell completed an honours degree in philosophy from the Victoria University of Wellington. In 2011, Mansell was awarded the public sector’s Leadership Development Centre fellowship for his work with the MSD. He used this scholarship to complete an adaptive leadership course at Harvard University. He also attended an executive negotiation workshop ‘Bargaining for Advantage’ at The Wharton School of University of Pennsylvania and completed a course on strategy and leadership at the Centre for Creative Leadership in Colorado.

In 2013 he was appointed to the New Zealand Data Futures Forum, an independent think tank commissioned to consider how to build a safe and high trust data sharing ecosystem within New Zealand to drive value for citizens, the economy and improve government services. The forum is chaired by former Treasury Secretary and World Bank executive director John Whitehead.

Through his own consultancy, Noos, Mansell has worked with the likes of the Department of Human Services in Melbourne where he reviewed the agency’s analytics capability, work-shopped options to move towards outcomes focused on child protection.

Leaving a full-time government role has allowed him to work on this goal with more organisations. He works with central government agencies, including the Inland Revenue Department, Ministry of Education, Treasury, MSD and New Zealand Productivity Commission. He is currently on the board of Te Pūnaha Matatini, the Centre of Research Excellence (CoRE) dedicated to the study of how to transform complex data into knowledge.

Mansell traces the root of his data science advocacy to 2004, when he joined the Child, Youth and Family Services (now part of MSD).

He was told to read some cases to familiarise himself with child protection. He ended up reading three cases.

The last case was about a child living in the West Coast who was sexually abused at age two by his stepfather. Child Youth and Family were notified and the abuser was removed. The mother was grateful. But then this young boy was abused again, this time by a cousin. Again, CYF intervened and sent the cousin packing. This happened twice more with different sexual predators.

In social work jargon, this is a severe case of ‘non-protective parenting’, he states. Then the boy himself exhibited harmful sexual behaviour when he started school. The case history stopped about then, at age 12. There were also notes from a social worker who queried on what they could do for this boy without sufficient funding to help the family with care or to rehabilitate this kid.

“I read his case and that was enough,” says Mansell. “It was too traumatising.”

He thought, how the boy had been let down by “a broken system”?

“It is not that the CYF was broken, the whole system is broken,” he states.

“There are really good people on the frontline who are trying to help,” he explains. But the way they were allocating budget, and what they were accountable for were getting in the way.

“The whole system is working against them doing a good job to some extent.”

“It is heartbreaking to see money being wasted, to see things getting in the way of good intentions. At that point, I wanted to help.”

This began a journey to see what could be done, he says. Mansell ultimately ended up advocating the use of shared data and the use of analytics to help the social sector focus on outcomes and in particular, longer-term outcomes.

The case of ‘Marc Smith’

Advocating for increased use of shared data and analytics to drive value is not easy.

“A lot of people try and fail to get it used. It’s a big shift to practice and the operating model for government – not merely tacking on some data science. To drive change I learnt (after four years of failure to make progress) that one thing is try to ‘add heat’ to remove complacency within government and the state sector.”

When Mansell was with the MSD, he spoke at various forums locally and globally, and one of the cases he always brought up was that of Marc Smith.

Marc Smith (not his real name) is an actual person. Joining up the data from services he received from various government agencies reveals a life of physical and emotional trauma: He was found by CYF to have behavioural difficulties at three years of age and by age five was found to have been sexually abused. The cycle of physical and sexual abuse went on, and moved into youth offending and increasingly long periods away from parents in the care of the state. In spite of this, he progressed at school to finish with subjects at NCEA level 2. This is no mean feat given this background, says Mansell.

Marc started receiving the unemployment benefit at age 18.

“You can see the pathway of being abused several times. Of course, he had a bigger chance of offending.”

When he added Corrections data, he found that Smith had started offending as a young adult.

“I use this kind of example to raise challenging questions for the state sector,” says Mansell.

“People in various services like child protection services, Work and Income and Corrections were all accountable for little pieces of the puzzle, but no one was accountable for Marc Smith.”

“Marc is not alone. There are thousands of people in New Zealand who have this kind of profile,” he says.

“The top few thousand New Zealanders with a similar profile to Marc Smith have on average over $300,000 invested and still [result in] very poor social outcomes – long-term unemployment and offending. Most of this investment is late and by that time improving outcomes is very costly and of limited success.”

This was the idea of the MSD CEO, he states.“It is putting a burning bridge in front of ministers and agencies. ‘Hey, look, here are 10,000 people. They cost us $5 billion dollars. They cross all of our agencies. What are we going to do about them because they are going through a pathway like Marc Smith?’”

He asks whether Marc Smith’s life would have turned out differently if only a few thousand dollars was spent earlier when he was aged eight or nine, and not when he was aged 25 and a long-term recidivist offender.

“Do we want to keep paying for prison or spend money early on to have a better outcome?

“But although traditional research promotes early intervention, governments do not do long-term investment very well. Without shared data and the use of analytics to make people accountable and provide the KPIs and tools for longer term pathways, it is hard to focus the social sector systemically on value.

“Why are we not systematically aggregating data to force (and support) the government to see the full picture to make better social investment decisions?”

He says this is not achievable unless the government can track people across services. “We can also use shared data to question which services work.

“Marc Smith is my way of telling the story of those first cases I read – of that 12-year old. But by tracking educational and justice sector outcomes as an adult it also finished the story by tracking the social and fiscal cost of poor early investment.”

He says the current system actually works for some people, but people like Marc Smith can fall into the gaps. It should work for everybody, not just the ‘average’ person.

Mansell cites the Ministry of Social Development as using operational analytics and joined up data to understand who their clients are and how to achieve better outcomes earlier.

“We are starting to make progress,” he states.

Lifeline

“We invested heavily in an integrated client view which is where the data is joined up,” he states. Initial attempts to get funding and formal support through the policy group failed.

“I have consistently found that policy folk are slowest to get it or accept the change because most of them are at risk of being disintermediated by big data.”

Mansell credits MSD CIO David Habershon, manager data warehouse Mike O’Neil and chief data Scientist Kip Marks for taking a punt and helping with the integration of data systems that allowed him to join information from across MSD and across agencies in the social sector.

“They gave me a lifeline,” he states. “We needed to build that stuff to get ready for welfare reform and they pitched in to get it done.

“There was a lot of opposition within MSD because it is such a radically different way to look at your business. They took some risks on behalf of a good idea when they did not have to,” says Mansell. “They got behind me and we had skunk works going on, they built the data and integrated that with the analytics and bought some of the new tools which was what we needed.”

He says the then MSD CEO Brendan Boyle also supported the initiative.

“It got even better because Brendan was a breath of fresh air in MSD and understands this kind of change deeply, so he is a great champion. It’s good to work for a CEO deeply committed to public value and not merely managing risk for ministers.

“This kind of work requires some champions to succeed,” says Mansell. 

Mansell says work on the project continues as analytics is continuing to be integrated into the ministry’s operating model.

“Analytics disrupts the status quo,” he explains. “It is not just a technical problem.

“We have been building predictive models for 20 years but no one used them until people were building this capability in support of a new kind of business model. That’s really when it gets used.”

The role of technology is to create a smart closed loop learning system, as part of a customer needs and outcomes centred business model, he says.

“That is very different and requires a very different channel strategy, a different kind of funding, and development of data structures.

“Yes, we were trying to build a new way of looking at data, a longitudinal view of data. But it is all about the government being more targeted, a bit more evidence based about where to target investment and accountable for the short and longer term outcomes. It’s about adding value through social spending.

“At the moment what people are accountable for is doing something fast or cheaply, and you are just cost shifting into the future.”

What makes sense for MSD makes sense for the social sector as a whole.

The real value of this approach is in applying it above the servicing level to make better investment decisions across health, justice, education and social development, he says.

This idea came off the back of identifying limitations in investment approach in MSD, he states. “MSD is really only optimising investment across a narrow service offering.

“Many times welfare beneficiaries need better health or education or child protection services, not better CV writing courses. So some of the case management investment in Work and Income should be moved elsewhere – re-invested. This wasn’t a popular view inside Work and Income.”

So, in 2012, he pitched the idea of a Whole of Government Analytics at the centre of government to drive structural shift in the way government investment is managed. This means building accountability and budget allocation around needs and outcomes on the basis of an independent (system level) understanding of pathways across services. This has led to the creation of an advanced analytics function at the centre of government (Treasury).

In addition, significant new funding was also received to expand the role of the ‘Integrated Data Infrastructure’ managed by Statistics New Zealand and enable remote access for a wider range of users. Organisations like Motu now have much better access to integrated case level government data to do research with, he says.

Mansell and New Zealand Data Alliance members work with ministers and Treasury to apply a whole-of-sector view of the social system. This information will be used to shift to population based funding and accountability for outcomes. Elements of these are now being trialled for the 2016 Budget.

“It is about being smarter about where you target,” he says. “Everybody who uses the service gets a better service there is less wastage, everybody wins …except service providers whose services are low value.

“The goal is to make everyone accountable for outcomes so that they start to be innovative about having to solve the problem, and how to avoid bad outcomes.”

Advocacy and risks

What keeps him up at night now are the risks attached to all of these. Along with the big benefits of using shared data to improve outcomes, come big risks. This is deeply personal information and needs to be handled sensitively, he states.

He is working with ministers and senior officials on both sides of the Tasman on how state agencies can safely use data to focus on outcomes and innovation. This, he says, including advocating for the right kind of national data ecosystems, is needed for responsible use of data science and data sharing.

“I shudder to think what the centre of government will do if it has unfettered use of personal citizen data. The government cannot be both gate keeper and user of social sector data. To do so invites a monopoly and so stagnation and I think, a drift to more coercive uses of citizen data.”

Mansell founded the New Zealand Data Alliance, a volunteer group of data scientists providing independent, non-commercial and non-partisan advice to community leaders on the responsible use of data to improve outcomes for New Zealanders. So far their work has included advising senior ministers and not-for-profits.

If GPs, schools and other social sector players can take control of their own data then they will have a powerful platform to challenge the hegemony at the centre of government, he says.

“There is nothing in principle stopping the social sector ‘Uber-ing’ (disintermediating) big government. The result would be a much safer, less fragmented, more innovative and a more powerful provider network.”

He admits being seen as a “lightning rod” when he was advocating all this from inside government.

“I was not popular. I did as much I could do, so I felt it was time to move on.

“The more you get involved in this stuff you start to realise several things. That ‘I don’t necessarily have all the answers’, sometimes you can get too caught up in your own mission and importance,” he states.

“So much of this is about asking the right questions rather than thinking you have the right answers. This is very new and letting go means enabling other people to ask questions and innovate. I think I am learning (slowly!) that you get more back by letting go.”

He says this work is being continued by a lot of people in both government and private sectors. “Most of us have kids and we just want to make New Zealand a better place” he says, on what drives him in the role. “This is one way to do it.”

The author, Divina Paredes, is a New Zealand-based writer interested in #CivilSociety #SpecialNeedsCommunity #SocialEnterprise #Data4Good #ICTTrends #Tech4Good #Digital Workplace & #Sustainability. Reach her via @divinap 

This article is adapted from an interview that was originally published in @cio_nz

Artwork: Dino Japa

The dark side of humanity

Remembering the Bataan Death March

By Divina Paredes 

 By the fourth day of the march, the old National Road was lined with fresh corpses. Hundreds of dead, sprawled on the shoulders, strewn in the drainage ditches.

First Lieutenant Ed Thomas of Grand Rapids, Michigan, caught sight of his captain and company commander lying in a ditch, dead from a bayonet wound… Bernard FitzPatrick kept passing corpses clad in faded blue hospital pajamas. Filipinos mostly, the cripples and amputees who had left their beds in the field hospital after the Japanese had assured them they were free to walk home.

In the heat the bodies began to rot and it wasn’t long before great swarms of flies were feasting on them. During the day dogs and pigs joined the flies and at night the smell of death lured large carnivorous lizards down from the hills, but it was the crows that commanded the carrion, crows standing wing to wing on the bloated bodies, tearing at the flesh, crows roosting patiently on the wire fences along the road or, as Private Wince ‘Tennessee’” Solsbee noticed, always circling overhead, waiting for their next meal to drop.—

From Tears in the Darkness by Michael and Elizabeth M. Norman, Farrar, Straus and Giroux (June 2009)

ELIZABETH M. Norman, a professor at the Steinhardt School of Culture, Education and Human Development at New York University, remembers her husband Michael’s remark after she finished her book, We Band of Angels: The Untold Story of American Women Trapped on Bataan by the Japanese.

“Half of the story had not been told,” said Michael, a former New York Times reporter and now journalism professor at NYU, who had edited the book published in 1999. “We should write about the men.”

And that is how Tears in the Darkness: The Story of the Bataan Death March and its Aftermath came about. The book describes the incidents of the three-month battle for the Bataan Peninsula, then moves on to April 9, 1942, when more than 76,000 Americans and Filipinos under the American command surrendered to the Japanese in what is now described as the single largest defeat in American military history. The sick and starving Filipino and American soldiers were ordered to walk 66 miles (approximately 106 kilometers) to their prisons.

michaelbeth BataanEastWestRoad0001It is estimated that up to 10,000 Filipinos and Americans died from torture, starvation, and disease during the trek, and that more perished during the 41 months in prison. The book also covers the trial and execution of Lieutenant General Masaharu Homma, former commander of the Imperial Army, and the impact of the war on the soldiers from all sides after the war.

The book took 10 years to finish. “We wanted to do something different from what has been done already,” explains Elizabeth in a phone interview from their home in Montclair, New Jersey. “We wanted to write the story about the battle and the aftermath from the American, Filipino, and the Japanese viewpoint, which had never been done before.”

Adds Michael: “We wanted to create a good strong nonfiction story. We wanted to understand the Japanese, and also the Filipino, point of view. To do that, we had to do a lot of reading [on] Japanese psychology and history and Filipino social psychology and history, so we can present three different sides equally.”

“Why do men behave so bestially towards one another?’ This went way beyond the bonds of warfare.”

The Normans interviewed more than 400 people, both combatants and civilians. One of the central characters is Ben Steele, a cowboy from Montana, who became an art professor after the war. The Normans interviewed more than 200 American veterans but Steele had experienced almost every aspect of the battle—99 days in the battle and the surrender, and 1,244 days as a prisoner of war. He is turning 92 this year, and still sketches and paints every day. His black and white drawings portraying the various events throughout the march and in prison are featured in the book. (Sadly, his drawings as a prisoner of war were lost during the war.)

The Normans traveled back and forth across the United States, the Philippines, and Japan to interview the soldiers, their families, and civilians who had witnessed the march. They collected 2,800 books, documents, and other sources which they are donating to the MacArthur Memorial Library and Archives in Norfolk, Virginia.

In one of their trips to the Philippines, Michael and Elizabeth walked the 66-mile (106-kilometer) route of the Bataan Death March. Elizabeth says that these days, the distance walked by the prisoners of war would not seem far, as people drive that distance all the time. But when she and Michael started their trek, she adds, “We were so struck by how far that was to walk when you are defeated, when you are sick, when you are hungry.”

The Normans captured this feeling of desperation in the book:

It rained almost every day, not all day, but every day, monsoon rain… The rain turned the jungle dark, and in the perpetual gloom some began to believe that they had been forgotten.

The government had forgotten them, of this they were sure, and it seemed that God had forgotten them. He had sent them into a wilderness, into the heart of darkness…

Now the jungle was their enemy too and it showed them even less pity than the Japanese. Their captors were merely indifferent to their fate. They could live or not; the guards didn’t care. Nature, however, seemed bent on destroying them—the heat, the wet, the rot and disease. And they were alone, alone and utterly exposed in a world that hissed and snapped and stirred in the dark, shadows of men sleeping on rocks by a bend in a river on a ragged peninsula at the end of the world.

“The interesting thing about Tears in the Darkness is that it is made up of 10,000 stories woven together and forming one coherent whole,” says Michael. “I like the fact that it is something different, a blend of many styles of nonfiction narrative [and] journalism. I think there is also a little bit of poetry.”

There were also stories of humanity, as the POWs related stories of Filipinos risking their lives to help them as they passed through the villages. “From the side of the road children would dash into the columns, shove something into a soldier’s hand—a banana leaf full of rice, a small melon, a sugar cookie—and dash off before the guards could kick or club them,” they wrote. A Japanese soldier would quietly drop a package wrapped in banana leaves for the prisoners. Inside was a rice ball and tiny quinine pills for malaria, a disease which had debilitated a number of the prisoners.”

Elizabeth says including the civilian point of view is one of the things she is most proud of in the book. When they started working on the book, they were focused on the military side of the story. But it was Michael who suggested they talk to the civilians too. “People don’t write about what the civilians go through in the war and ‘Tears in the Darkness’ does that,” she says. “You appreciate these farmers, fishermen, and the other Filipinos in Bataan, what they suffered and endured during the battle.”

The title Tears in the Darkness comes from a literal translation of the ideograph, or kanji, for the Japanese word anrui. It was the term a former Imperial Japanese officer the Normans spoke to used to describe the reaction of General Homma (who was executed in 1946) when he read page after page of the Japanese casualties in the war. But the term, says Elizabeth, “is really what the book is about because whether it is the Filipinos, the Americans, or the Japanese soldiers, the suffering that all these people had in the battle were perfectly captured in that statement.”

For Michael and Elizabeth, one of the most “haunting” stories was about the massacre of around 400 Filipino soldiers by the Japanese in Pantingan River.

They wrote:

As the prisoners waited in the holding compounds to entrain, they began to exchange stories, lurid catalogs of what they had seen on their long, brutal march north. 

Here, for example, was a Filipino soldier talking about a massacre he had witnessed while hiding in the jungle. Hundreds of men, he said, prisoners with their hands tied behind their backs, had been bayoneted to death in a secluded spot near the Pantingan River. Impossible, thought doctor Alvin Poweleit, and yet there was something “sincere” in the man’s voice, something authentic.

A week or so later, Captain Pedro Felix, fleeing from bayonet wounds and shaking with malaria, appeared at his family’s house in Manila. Felix, a staff officer with the 91st Division, Philippine Army, said he’d been in hiding and on the run since April 12, the day the Japanese massacred hundreds of his comrades at the Pantingan River.”

The Normans had interviewed three Japanese soldiers who admitted to have taken part in the massacre of the Filipino POWs. One of them said he did not want to kill the prisoners but his sergeant ordered, “Bayonet the Filipinos or we are going to kill you.”

Michael was a Marine during the Vietnam War, and he believes it had helped that he spoke with the veterans from all three sides. “Whenever I would sit down with a soldier—Japanese, Filipino, or American—the very first words out of my mouth were, ‘I don’t know what you went through in captivity but I know what you went through in the battlefield because I was there. So let us talk, soldier to soldier.’”

Elizabeth says there was another reason why the Filipino, Japanese, and American soldiers were forthright about their experiences. “These men are old now. If they didn’t tell their story, it was going to die with them.”

Says Michael: “This was their last chance to set the record straight, the last chance to tell us exactly what happened and why it happened, on the record.”

And the stories came out one after another. Elizabeth recalls how one of the soldiers described in detail how he bayoneted enemy soldiers to death. “The story was told in such horrific detail that I felt the hair at the back of my neck standing up,” says Elizabeth. When asked why he told the story to them, he replied, “It is time for the world to know.”

Says Elizabeth: “One of the challenges of doing ‘Tears in the Darkness’ was listening to these stories about the prisoners of war. You really peered into the darkness of the human soul. It is not an easy thing to do. Every man, woman, and civilian we talked to, these people are haunted by what they saw and what they did and they saw the dark side of humanity.”

The Normans worked with experts to ensure the accuracy of their research and translations. Among them were Dr Ricardo Jose of the University of the Philippines department of history and his wife Lydia-Yu Jose of the Ateneo de Manila University, who shared their extensive research on World War II in the Philippines. Rico supervised the translations of the interviews with the Filipinos and joined them in their field trips to Bataan.

bethricardojoseBataan (1)

In Japan, the Normans worked with Kyoko Onoki, formerly of the London Times. Wendy Matsumura, a doctoral candidate and instructor of Japanese at NYU, had vetted every page of the Japanese translations.

Michael says there was no easy explanation for what took place between December 1941 in the Philippines until the Liberation from the Japanese forces in 1945. “The purpose of the book was to ask the question, ‘Why do men behave so bestially towards one another?’ This went way beyond the bonds of warfare,” he says.

“We really wanted to show that there is really nothing good about war; and the way to do that was to interview the men on both sides to find out why they did the things they did.”

Elizabeth says it was interesting that every soldier they spoke to in the three countries said people have to learn to live in peace. “There shouldn’t be any more war, we should learn to live together,” she quotes the soldiers as saying.

So is this the major lesson from Tears in the Darkness?

“As a former combat Marine, here is the first lesson I learned,” says Michael. “As soon as the first shot is fired, in any way, everybody loses… You can call it a victory. You can call it a defeat. It doesn’t make a difference. Everybody loses something.”

Elizabeth, for her part, was particularly struck by the comment of a Japanese soldier, then 92, after he narrated his experience in Bataan. “He was quiet for a minute, looked at us and said, ‘There are no lessons from the war.’”

That was a profound statement, says Elizabeth. “There is nothing to be learned from what happened.”

Michael concurs, “Particularly if you repeat it in the next war, then you have never learned a d**n thing.” •

Tears cover 4

This article was originally published in the Philippine Daily Inquirer (June 2009)

The author, Divina Paredes, is a New Zealand-based writer interested in #CivilSociety #SpecialNeedsCommunity #SocialEnterprise #Data4Good #ICTTrends #Tech4Good #Digital Workplace & #Sustainability. Reach her via @divinap  

 

The challenge of writing the war right

Michael and Elizabeth Norman are attempting to write a cross-cultural history of the Japanese occupation by dredging the painful memories of combatants and survivors. By Divina Paredes

This is an excerpt from an article that was published on 30 January 2000 in the Philippine Daily Inquirer. 

Journalism, one writer observed, is history in a hurry.  And history another noted, is often dull journalism – awash with fact, bereft of characters, lacking in soul.

Two authors of war books, Michael Norman, former reporter of the New York Times, and his wife Elizabeth Norman, a nursing professor at New York University, are attempting to bridge this gap between journalism and history.

Michael and Elizabeth Norman

They are writing, as Michael put it, about “the great wrenching event we call World War II”. The book will delve on one of the most sordid chapters of the war – the Bataan Death March, the guerrilla warfare in the mountains, and the prisoners of wars.

What will set it apart from other works of the same genre is that it will be written from three points of view – American, Philippines and Japanese.

It will be the first, or among the first, “cross cultural” look at the Pacific War, said Michael, professor of journalism at NYU, and author of These Good Men: Friendships Forged in War, a memoir about his experience in the Marine Corps in Vietnam.

Elizabeth,  who is the director of the doctoral program in the Division of Nursing, School of Education at NYU, also tackled the war in her two books, Women at War: The Untold Story of Fifty Military Nurses Who Served in Vietnam, which was also her doctoral thesis, and We Band of Angels: The Untold Story of American Nurses Trapped on Bataan by the Japanese, published by Random House.

“War is the ultimate story, but challenging to write… There are always opposing sides with one claiming the high moral ground. And it is this fundamental opposition that results in the extraordinary challenge of of writing it right.” Elizabeth Norman

Death March

“We hope to produce a work of both history and literature, a work that examines how war shapes the lives and the cultures of those who fight it,” said Michael, who together with Elizabeth, spoke of the challenges of writing about World War II at the Ateneo de Manila University.

The Normans have interviewed survivors and witnesses of the Death March in 1942, when the Japanese forced some 70,000 exhausted Filipino and American soldiers to march in five days from various points in Bataan to San Fernando in Pampanga. The Normans also trekked the 106 km route taken by the Filipino and American soldiers.

Michael estimated that they must have driven 1,200 miles and visited seven provinces in the Philippines as well as dozens of war sites.

They have also pored over thousands of documents in libraries and private collections in the Philippines and the United States.

They have interviewed, so far, more than 200 Americans, and more than 100 Filipinos. In March, they will go to Japan and speak with more than 20 Japanese veterans.

At the Ateneo forum, the Normans recalled their various experiences as they chronicled events that happened more than 50 years ago It was Elizabeth who explained their interest in the subject.

“War as a story, whether fiction or nonfiction, captivates readers and it has been the number one cultural story around the world, probably since humans spoke around camp fires and drew symbols on caves and walls,” she said.

War is also the ultimate story, but challenging to write. It is, she said, “about struggle, with something significant – lands, people – at stake. There are always opposing sides with one claiming the high moral ground. And it is this fundamental opposition that results in the extraordinary challenge of of writing it right.”

The Normans were joined by University of the Philippines history professor Dr Rico Jose; author and Ramon Magsaysay Award winner F. Sionil Jose; Fr. James Reuter, who was imprisoned by the Japanese; and Fr. Jaime Bulatao, author and clinical psychologist who had experienced the war.

Dr Jose, who had accompanied the Normans in the various war sites in Luzon, said World War II is a period “which we should never be allowed to forget”.

“I have never met a man who has been in combat that was not a pacifist in his heart after the war was over.” Michael Norman

Cross-cultural phenomenon

The war, he said, “is a cross cultural phenomenon. The only way to fully understand it is to try to cross the barriers in the different cultural lines,” said Jose.

He said that the Japanese, Americans and Filipinos tend to extol their respective roles in the war.

“What should be written is a composite history that transcends all these different borders which should produce the experience that is war.”

The two-hour forum became a recollection of the horrors suffered by both sides during the war.

“It is too painful to talk about,” said Fr Bulatao.

He said that one night, he and some priests at the Ateneo saw Japanese soldiers tie a Filipino to a banana tree and bayonet him to death. The tree, he said, turned red two days later.

During the bombing of Manila, some 200 people, mostly women, sought refuge at the Ateneo. Late that night, as they were aiding those hit by the shrapnel, some of the women wept and recalled their abuses at the hands of the Japanese soldiers who had herded them into a hotel for two nights.

The panellists noted that among those in the audience was Ambassador Miguel Perez-Rubio, who lost his parents, his two brothers, a sister and two aunts, during the Battle of Manila.

“I was the only one who survived,” said Perez Rubio, who served as chief of protocol to Presidents Corazon Aquino and Fidel Ramos.

He said he harbours no bitterness now, only anger, especially when he learned how the Japanese officials were honoured after the war.

He would like to see, he said, the Prime Minister of Japan coming out and expressing a real remorse and a big apology.

Heinous crimes

Last year, he said, a Japanese journalist had interviewed him and asked whether he would have wanted the Japanese officials executed after the war. He said he does not believe in the death penalty, but they should have served a life sentence.

“Their crimes were really heinous and they should have served the rest of their lives in Philippine prisons,” he said.

The audience fell silent when Michael Norman related the stories told by the American prisoners of war who were forced to work on the Tayabas Road, now the Pan Philippine Highway in Camarines Norte.

The road was vital because it linked Manila to Southern Luzon, where the Japanese had set up stations. The emaciated men were beaten when they fell, sometimes with the shovels they were digging the earth with. They also were asked to dig the graves of their comrades.

At night, he said, the men with malaria “would scream out and the jungle with echo with their ghostly cries. The suffering was so pervasive that an American army doctor who had been sent to the river by the Japanese who were hoping to get more work out of the men, actually administered lethal doses of morphine to the critically ill…He killed his comrades rather than watch them suffer in death.”

Some of the men he spoke with said that the “utter brutality and wantonness” of the Japanese in Tayabas was worse than the sufferings they endured during the forced march, and thought none of them would ever see home again.

Michael said that one of the characters in their book would be Ben Steele, a young cowboy from Montana. Steel was with the Tayabas group, and thought he would never survive the ordeal as he lay shivering with malaria near the riverbed.

One night, he said, he heard footsteps and knew that from the hobnails on the rocks that it was a Japanese guard. The guard stood beside him for a moment. It was a folded banana leaf stuffed with boiled rice. Inside was a quinine pill for his malaria. The guard did the same thing for several days.

F . Sionil Jose said that his greater objective in writing novels with historical settings is to give Filipinos memory. “If we have that kind of memory…then people like Imelda Marcos would never have been able to return, and to power at that.”

Good Samaritan

Michael said two of the men who had laboured on the Tayabas toad told the same thing.

“No one knows who this Good Samaritan, this kind angel was,” said Norman.

He said it was possible there was more than one guard who exhibited the same act of kindness to the American soldiers.

These are the kinds of stories, he said, that they will put in the book. He said the story of the prisoners of war that were forced to work on the Tayabas road was by conventional historical standards, not even worthy of a footnote, but it will be one chapter in their book.

“When this miniscule historical moment is treated as something other than history, we learn a lot about the human heart,” he said.

Farther Reuter took note of his as he thanked the Normans for putting a different perspective in writing about the war.

“What you are doing is beautiful,” he said. “You’re trying to write history with a heart.”

Elizabeth, however, admonished that those who wish to write about history should prepare as much as they can and do listen very carefully.

Speaking to war veterans is difficult work, she said. “You should take this seriously, so the veterans and their survivors will get their tales told, as they should be told.”

Onion and memory

There are certain patterns, she said, that will emerge from the tales of the veterans. At first, she said, the veteran will sit down and tell jokes, and watch very carefully at your response and when they see that you are really interested, they open up.

“It is like the peeling of an onion,” she said. The painful stories will come out, and you sit back on your tears, and [if] it’s draining for you, you can imagine what it’s like for the veterans.”

Sionil Jose said that his greater objective in writing novels with historical settings – although the main one, he quipped, is to write bestsellers that will make lots of money – is to give Filipinos memory.

“If we have that kind of memory,” he said, “then people like Imelda Marcos would never have been able to return, and to power at that.”

Michael Norman concurred, and said that one of his aims in writing about the war is to foster this kind of “memory” to the public.

If you think about it, he said, every war represents a failure of memory and a failure of history to teach the generation that came after it.

“I have never met a man who has been in combat that was not a pacifist in his heart after the war was over,” said Michael, who himself saw combat in the jungles of Vietnam.

“It breaks the heart of all men in combat to see the next war come along.”

He said he aims to present history “in such a way that perhaps it will not be forgotten and we won’t have to be writing these kinds of books.”

The author, Divina Paredes @divinap , joined Michael and Elizabeth Norman during one of their trips to Bataan. Their book was published in 2009 and is entitled ‘Tears in the Darkness’.

Tears cover 4