Guerrilla Daughter

10. The War Ends

 ten  The War Ends Initially, Mom’s attempts to gain information about the whereabouts of Dad and the boys were fruitless. Some guerrillas passing through told her of rumors that Dad and several others had been sent to USAFFE headquarters in Leyte before the American landings on Mindanao and that Rudy and Hank were in Butuan or Surigao. After a while, however, bits and pieces from different sources led Mom to believe that the rumor about Dad’s having gone to Leyte might be true. After learning that the Japanese no longer patrolled the ocean and interisland banca traffic had resumed, Mom began making plans to go to Leyte and inquire at the U.S. Army headquarters there. To this end, she arranged for a large two-masted sailing banca equipped with a thatch canopy —very important to protect the tender skin of our now almost one-yearold brother Ed—to take us to Tacloban, site of the USAFFE headquarters. During this important trip, Princess remained in Surigao with the Meehlieb family. Our purpose in going was twofold: first, to locate Dad and the boys through the military and the American Red Cross, and second, to seek the medical treatment, food, and clothing assistance that Mom hoped would be available to people like us who had been in hiding for almost four years. (In fact, American civilian internees from Santo Thomas and other internment camps were brought to Tacloban for medical attention, rest, and some decent clothes before repatriation to the States.) About midway between Mindanao and Leyte, we ran into some rough weather. A large swell hit the banca, and it tipped precariously, the outrigger on one side rising toward the sky while its counterpart disappeared beneath the surface of the water. As was customary on these large bancas, long poles 173 174 Guerrilla Daughter extended from the hull to the large hollow bamboo floats and narrow slats of bamboo were lashed to these poles to form makeshift platforms. A crewmember was squatting in front of a simple cooking stove preparing a meal and would have been washed overboard had he not grabbed a bamboo slat and hung on, although he couldn’t prevent the food and cooking paraphernalia from sliding into the water—hot boiled rice was not part of the menu for the remainder of the trip. The outriggers enabled the boat to right itself, but not before those of us who were in the cabin got drenched as water poured in. Thankfully, warm breezes filled our sails (also helping us dry off) for the rest of the voyage, and we soon arrived at our destination. It was thrilling to pull into the harbor in Tacloban, with so many U.S. Navy ships of various sizes moored there. As we went up the channel, past the ships, the sailors leaned over the railings to get a closer look at us, probably wondering where we had come from. They seemed genuinely delighted to see Mom with her scrawny kids, including a baby. Many waved and shouted greetings at us, while others threw pieces of candy, chewing gum, and even an apple or two in our direction , but unfortunately most of the treats bounced off the canopy of our banca and fell into the water. Our boatmen did catch several of the goodies, though, and gave them to Peach and me, politely declining our offer to share with them. Once ashore, we went to a convent where, as always, we felt confident that the nuns would put us up or help us find alternate accommodations. True to form and without hesitation, they gave us rooms at the convent, near the cathedral in Tacloban. This proximity to a church allowed us to attend Mass again and offer many prayers of thanksgiving for the survival of our family and the gift of a healthy baby boy. We also prayed that we would soon be reunited with Dad and the boys. The first order of business, however, was a visit to the Red Cross, where Mom initiated the process of tracking down Dad’s whereabouts. While awaiting results of their search, we took advantage of the care and assistance offered by the military authorities. Our next stop after the Red Cross was the reliefclothing center, where we must have looked a sight with our abaca fiber shifts and bare feet. There was not a great selection of clothing, for a multitude of internees from Santo Tomas and other internment camps had already...