GET IT RIGHT THE FIRST TIME

By the first of April 1942, the nurses who were ill with malaria and other tropical diseases (which was practically everyone) were ordered off the Peninsula and into the Malinta Tunnel on the nearby island of Corregidor. Not one of the nurses asked to go, and several of them told their superior officers they wanted to stay with their patients. The nurses, even the sickest among them, were distressed about what kind of care the patients would receive if they all left. The doctors (all male, some also ill with dengue fever and malaria) were not being evacuated…yet…but the nurses argued in vain that without the nurses to maintain the bonds they had developed with so many patients.

Henry David Thoreau said, “Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look in each other’s eyes for just an instant?” The circumstances the American and Filipino health care teams found themselves in at Jungle Hospitals 1 and 2 seem impossible to imagine. But the Bataan nurses regarded each of their patients with empathy, humility, and honor. They “looked into their eyes” and saw each one as a distinct human being with a life before Bataan, and hopefully a life after. Some of these men were gravely injured, many to the point where their lives would never be the same.

Everyone on Bataan realized the Japanese were closing in on the US and Philippine troops who still held the front line. They all waited and prayed for General MacArthur to announce that help really was on the way. But after three and a half months in the steaming jungle with dwindling food, medicine, and other supplies, it was the nurses that kept the patients on track to recovery by validating their fear, anxiety, pain (both physical and emotional), and worry. A patient was more than his chart, his diagnosis, his treatment plan, or even his military experience. Much of the nurses’ time was spent “connecting” to each patient, understanding, “seeing” the whole person and building trust. The nurses were determined to “get it right the first time” with each patient.

But the nurses were “soldiers” too, and the day came when they were to be evacuated to Corregidor. And what a nightmare that evacuation was!

Meg Blaine Corrigan is the author of four books: Then I Am Strong: Moving From My Mother’s Daughter to God’s Child, a memoir about growing up in an alcoholic home; Saints With Slingshots: Daily Devotions For The Slightly Tarnished But Perpetually Forgiven Christian, Books One and Two; and Perils of a Polynesian Percussionist, a novel depicting Meg’s time playing drums in a Hawaiian Road Show. Her latest project is to tell the story of her Aunt Ethel “Sally” Blaine Millett, who was an American Army nurse in the Philippines when WWII began. “Sally” joined about a hundred other nurses and 50-some doctors in transporting about two thousand patients from Statsenburg Hospital north of Manila (with more arriving every day) to the jungle on the Bataan Peninsula. They hid the patients from the Japanese for about four months until they were all captured and placed in POW camps for over three years before being liberated by American forces. This blog contains excerpts from the book in real time as Meg is writing and posting a blog once weekly. The book’s title is MERCY MORE THAN LIFE: Sally Blaine Millett, WWII Army Nurse. The anticipated date of publication is spring 2023.Meg’s website is www.MegCorrigan.com . She lives in a tiny apartment in Little Canada, Minnesota with her species-confused tropical plants and her rescue Carousel Horse, Mr. Ed.

PENTHOUSE TO BUNKER

Jean Marie Faircloth had always been accustomed to “creature comforts” beyond most people’s imaginations. She understood from early on that both sides of her family hailed from aristocratic Southern roots, had access to great wealth and all its trappings, and could boast of generations of military service, back to the Confederate Army and before. Jean loved all things military. It seemed that her meeting and falling in love with a man eighteen years her senior, General Douglas MacArthur, was a match made in heaven. She was just the kind of woman MacArthur would have chosen, if such an opportunity had presented itself.

Although she was a petite woman, she was fearless and confident enough in herself to be traveling alone to Shanghai in 1937.  On the ship was another notable passenger, General MacArthur, bound for the Philippines. The General had retired from a distinguished career in the United States Army in 1937, to become a Philippine Army field marshal advising the Philippine government in preparing them for their upcoming 1946 independence from the United States. Making a conscious decision, Jean skipped her trip to Shanghai and got off at Manila, where MacArthur also disembarked. She and the General maintained an exclusive relationship until their marriage two years later in New York, during MacArthur’s trip home to build support for the defense of the Philippines that never came.

Macarthur’s new wife hit the ground running with her vast knowledge of and love for the military. Jean was an asset to her husband’s position in the Philippines. She was a tireless ambassador of goodwill for the Allies in the South Pacific. And she loved every minute of her role. Quiet and composed, serving as a backdrop and constant support for her husband, Jean Evenings were spent at home in the penthouse built for the General at the posh Manila Hotel. Predictable, regimented, the couple lived their days in service to the people of the Philippines and the United States. When their only child was born, Arthur MacArthur IV, named after his paternal grandfather, the parents doted on him and raised him in a loving—and of course—structured environment.

When the Japanese invaded the Philippines, things changed rapidly. Within a matter of weeks, General MacArthur ordered his troops, including all staff from several hospitals, to move to the densely covered jungle where they would be hidden from the Japanese. The plan was to wait for more American troops to arrive to help vanquish the Japanese army and to destroy their aircraft. No one knew the troops would never arrive. Jean set about closing out the penthouse and preparing for the unknown.

How could this be, now, that this family, emergent from money and privilege, found themselves moving to an underground bunker on the Philippine Island of Corregidor, or “The Rock,” as it was called? How could they decide what to reasonably take along—or more importantly, leave behind—of their seemingly limitless possessions? China and silver? What use would they be? Fine glassware and linens? The Japanese bombing broke tougher glass products than theirs, and the Malinta Tunnel’s ceiling shed fine particles of concrete dust each time the enemy fired mortars at the ground above. And what of little four-year-old Arthur’s toys (mostly military trucks and ships and flying machines)? How can he play with them on a cold concrete floor in whichever portion of “the third lateral tunnel from the east entrance” that would be set up for the MacArthur family to live in? But Jean Macarthur squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and resolved not to complain one bit about their new accommodations. Her husband was the high command of this crazy mission. He was determined to keep the American and Filipino hospital staff and patients, as well as the soldiers fighting on the front line, as safe as possible until American troops came. The sooner the better, she thought. But she was determined to do her part, no matter the cost, to support her husband and keep her son occupied.

MacArthur in the Malinta Tunnel

***

Sometimes she and the other nurses would talk about how they got here, to this unimaginable situation of creating a “hospital”—if one could call it that—in the middle of this senseless war. But all any of them could do was put one foot in front of the other and do the job they were assigned.

The dark black night descended on Hospital #2 in the Bataan jungle. The canopy of foliage had a few open spots—they all knew where those open spaces were and hoped the Japanese knew nothing about them. The stars shone so brightly through those holes some nights that their beauty made Sally want to cry. Her fear had long since been replaced by a profound sadness and a longing for the meager possessions she left behind in Manila. Sally was now a charge nurse, responsible for the day-to-day treatment and care of over a thousand patients at a time. A few months into the outdoor adventure that was Bataan, Sally contracted malaria Refusing to receive any special treatment, she lay on her cot in the middle of the open-air med-surg ward and gave orders.

Meg Blaine Corrigan is the author of four books: Then I Am Strong: Moving From My Mother’s Daughter to God’s Child, a memoir about growing up in an alcoholic home; Saints With Slingshots: Daily Devotions For The Slightly Tarnished But Perpetually Forgiven Christian, Books One and Two; and Perils of a Polynesian Percussionist, a novel depicting Meg’s time playing drums in a Hawaiian Road Show. Her latest project is to tell the story of her Aunt Ethel “Sally” Blaine Millett, who was an American Army nurse in the Philippines when WWII began. “Sally” joined about a hundred other nurses and 50-some doctors in transporting about two thousand patients from Statsenburg Hospital north of Manila (with more arriving every day) to the jungle on the Bataan Peninsula. They hid the patients from the Japanese for about four months until they were all captured and placed in POW camps for over three years before being liberated by American forces. This blog contains excerpts from the book in real time as Meg is writing and posting a blog once weekly. The book’s title is MERCY MORE THAN LIFE: Sally Blaine Millett, WWII Army Nurse. The anticipated date of publication is spring 2023.Meg’s website is www.MegCorrigan.com . She lives in a tiny apartment in Little Canada, Minnesota with her species-confused tropical plants and her rescue Carousel Horse, Mr. Ed.

SAYING GOODBYE TO CLARK

The first time Clark Field was bombed by the Japanese, everyone on duty knew the plan. At the hospital, the patients were to be moved to the basement of the building where they had the best chance of not being injured. Several storage rooms had been cleared of furniture, scrubbed clean, and made ready for the patients. The bombs kept falling, but not one hit the hospital. The Japanese kept up a continuous barrage every day for almost three weeks. And each time, everyone had to take cover. This lasted from December 8^th until the 24^th, Christmas Eve. The day before, Sally and a new nurse named Ann were off duty. Ann had been moved from Stermmer Hospital to help out. They decided to go swimming, and both being Midwest girls, they thought donning their bathing suits in December was crazy.  They had a grand time. It was good they didn’t get caught because the head nurse would not have thought it was cute at all.

The next day, things began to change rapidly. The bombs were getting closer and closer to the hospital, and the powers that be decided the patients and the medical staff had to be evacuated. The patients were loaded onto trains, and the medical staff came on board to make sure IVs were still inserted and bandages had not slipped. A small number of doctors and nurses stayed on the train and rode with the patients to Manila. The others were getting ready to board a bus when the air raid siren went off. They all had to take cover and there was a great scramble to get someplace safe. Sally saw a culvert and thought that was a terrific place to take cover. She crawled into a drainage pipe so small, she could not use her arms to move forward; she had to shimmy in. She took a deep breath and then realized there was an iguana not much smaller than her staring face to face at her. She tried to shimmy right back out of the culvert, but she was wearing riding boots, and one got stuck. The iguana did not look happy. Sally couldn’t move. It was a wartime standoff between woman and lizard. Sally shimmied harder and finally got her foot unstuck. She nearly bolted out of the culvert and came face to face with the cook from the nurses’ barracks.

“Oh, Missy Blaine, Missy Blaine, Missy Blaine!” he said, wringing his hands. “I want to help you but I could not do so!”

“I’m okay now,” Sally said, “and the bombs seem to have quit for the moment. Let’s make a run for the buses.”

HEY, EVERYONE! I’m pleased to announce that we have a winner of the Name The Book Contest! My friend Michele Hein submitted the winning title: MERCY MORE THAN LIFE: SALLY BLAINE MILLETT, WWII NURSE. For having the winning title, Michele will receive an autographed and personalized copy of the book when it is published, and she will be included in the acknowledgments page as the person who chose the title. CONGRATULATIONS, MICHELE!

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

Why were the generals so insistent that we engage in this war? I do not believe it is right, but they keep telling me this is a golden opportunity that cannot be allowed to pass by! I try talking to them, but they insult me with their ‘knowledge and experience.’ They treat me like a child, as if I don’t know right from wrong. How dare they say these things behind my back? I hear from others what is being said. But Japanese emperors are divine, and they know that. I do not wish to be forced into signing onto something I do not believe in nor stand for. I know what is right: we should not be persuaded to enter this unholy allegiance with the others who believe they will rule the world. Mussolini and Hitler think they are some sort of gods, but they are not like our Japanese rulers. Japan should have normal relations with other nations, and not bludgeon their societies into oblivion because we think we are stronger! And if we don’t prevail in this horrid war they are proposing, what happens then? Do we lose our way of life and suffer untold death and destruction in our own land? What then have we proven? Nothing! The French philosopher Voltaire said, “To the living we owe respect but to the dead we owe only the truth.” I will meet with these war mongers and tell them I do not approve of this aggression towards other nations, I will make them understand!

Hirohito paced the floor as his thoughts consumed him.

But Prime Minister Hideki Tojo and the stubborn generals bullied the young emperor to the point where he turned a blind eye to their plans to bomb Pearl Harbor, Clark Field, and many other targets. The genie was out of the bottle now, and there was simply no way to put it back inside. This time the abyss did not hiss.

The abyss growled.