A Small Plot of U. S. Soil

In its own little corner of made-in-Japan hell on Bataan Peninsula, Douglas MacArthur's American-Filipino Army clung grimly to the last U.S. soil on Luzon. The Jap charged and charged again. He was thrown back. Through the jungles he filtered by squads and smaller groups. Usually he came to an ugly end, but often he did plenty of damage before he died.

By night, while U.S. troops huddled in their positions, some sleeping, some watching, and machine guns chattered fitfully in the advanced positions, the searchlights of Corregidor probed the shadows of Manila Bay for Japs. By day the jungles awoke and monkeys in the trees jibbered shrilly above the shouts of fighting men, the slam of big field pieces.

Near week's end Corregidor's big coast-defense guns, commanding Manila Bay, went into action for the first time. The

Jap had taken a long chance, had gathered an attacking force under cover just across the bay, presumably to be used against Corregidor. Somehow Corregidor knew. About the time the Jap was ready to move, the guns of Corregidor, and of Forts Hughes, Drum and Frank on the small islands near Corregidor, opened up. Taken by surprise, the landing party, its boats and its launches were destroyed.

Somehow the battered Philippine Air Force managed to get some pursuit planes into the air during the week. Airmen climbed joyfully into P-40s--probably rebuilt from junked craft--and went hunting. To Douglas Mac Arthur this small air support meant more than striking power. It meant that for the first time on Bataan he could see through his pilots' eyes what the Jap was up to.

The fight went on. Melville Jacoby, TIME correspondent, radioed from Corregidor :

"On Bataan the dust is thick. It fills the eyes and throat. Men and officers along the way all like to talk. The big item is guessing when help will come. Nailed to a tree in one headquarters was a big calendar with a picture of a full-rigged sailing ship. Under it someone had written sardonically: 'We told you so, help is on the way.'

"Men who have been in action tell plenty of stories about the Japanese--how across the barbed wire in the forward positions the Nip dead are piled high. The stench is terrific. The Japs have been removing their dead by night and taking them by truckloads down to Manila.

"Many U.S. wounded are still on their feet. One sergeant who was shot clean through the neck is still on duty. He put a Band-Aid over the holes on either side of his neck and, incredibly, went on fighting."

Tricky Mr. Moto. The Jap, who is variously "Mr. Moto," "Tojo," "Charlie" or "the Japanzy" to U.S. troops, was beginning to show a heavy preference for night movement, when concealment is best.

"When they attack," radioed Jacoby, "they occasionally set off firecrackers and even beat drums to kick up a rumpus. They are clever in taking advantage of terrain and are eternally busy trying to filter into the U.S. positions. Sometimes their snipers work their way through. They show a marked preference for U.S. officers.

"I visited a command post in one sector where they had just rounded up a bunch of Nips. A Marine outfit had surrounded them in the hills, tossed a few grenades. The survivors shouted: 'We surrender.' But when the Marines came out of cover the Japs opened up with machine guns. They had to be beaten all over again.

"They are tricky, unscrupulous fighters. Jap snipers throw their rifles down when they go through the motions of surrender. When the rifle is picked up, an attached grenade is set off, and the soldier who has grabbed it is a casualty. Since the first few days the Army has learned a lot."

Cookies and Chariots. "Our engineer troops under Brigadier General Hugh J. Casey, recently promoted for gallantry in action, have been busy as beavers with construction work. And in the proud tradition of the Corps of Engineers they have done plenty of fighting. Hacking out jungle trails, they often encounter 'Mr. Moto.' They have their own ways of dealing with him.

"One of them is a piece of hollow bamboo filled with a dynamite stick, which they catapult over the trees. The red-necks call them 'Casey's cookie.' Another is a small, two-wheeled, self-propelled tank, with armored plating up front to protect the machine-gunner. The engineers say it will get where a tank won't, and they call it 'Casey's chariot.'

"When I was standing in a command post at the base of a mountain planes were suddenly heard overhead. Everybody took cover before we saw they were our own P-40s--four of them.

"A few minutes later three Jap dive-bombers turned up. They could be identified by the upcurve of their wings and their nonretractable landing gears. The next minute two P-40s came plummeting out of the clouds and the show was on. The Japs broke formation. One of them was hit squarely with a burst from a P-40. It flared up like a gasoline-soaked rag, plunged earthwards, crashed in its own bombs. The two other dive-bombers jettisoned their loads and streaked away. One of them was smoking when he turned. The P-40 on his tail gave it to him again and finished him. The third Nip was overhauled on the other side of the hill. He didn't get home either."

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