Babe's Eye View article

Today is the 65th anniversary of the Fall of Corregidor. I happened to bring a guest to the island the other day. No matter how many times one has been to that great historic island, one could not help but have that overwhelming feeling of sober solemnity. Though I've been there many times before, it still made my hair stand on end being in a place that had stood as a silent witness to the heroism of Filipinos and Americans—whether soldiers or ordinary citizens—who sacrificed their lives in the name of freedom.

Corregidor was a heavily fortified island used as an army post by the Americans, naming it Fort Mills in honor of General Samuel Mills. It had an arsenal of 45 guns and mortars organized into 23 batteries, as well as 72 anti-aircraft weapons. It lay two miles from Bataan, and was the largest of four islands protecting the mouth of Manila Bay from probable Japanese attack. It had a wide elevated area known as Topside and a small plateau called Middleside. On the low ground was a dock area called Bottomside, which was also dubbed "The Rock" or the "Gibraltar of the East" in comparison to the fortress that guarded the main entrance to the Mediterranean Sea.

But the fall of Bataan on April 9,1942 sent American and Filipino forces in disarray, and it was only Corregidor that served as the last remaining obstacle for the Japanese forces to take control of Manila Bay and swing the battle into their favor. The Japanese intensified their bombardment of Corregidor—incessantly raining explosives on the island day and night.

A structure that played a significant part in the defense of Corregidor was the Malinta Tunnel, which took almost 10 years to complete and served as Gen. Douglas MacArthur's headquarters. It has a main tunnel 835 feet long, 24 feet wide and 18 feet in height on the east-west passage with 24 laterals branching out from the north and south sides. Originally built as an arsenal and underground hospital with a 1,000-bed capacity, the tunnel was named Malinta because the workers who were digging saw hundreds of linta—or leech, in English. The panicked workers kept shouting "Maraming lintal" (There are a lot of leeches here!) thus, the name for the tunnel.

As we were going through the tunnel, the lights and sounds show put up by the tour organizers virtually made us experience the hardships the people had to go through during the war. I could just imagine the men and women huddled together, flinching every time they hear mortar shells crashing onto the island. Children must have quaked in fear, hungry and thirsty, some of them bleeding from the ears due to the deafening explosions above them.

The 11,000 defenders of Corregidor tried to hold out against the onslaught of the Japanese forces, fiercely resisting, enduring exhaustion, disease, hunger, sleeplessness—until May 6, 1942, when three Japanese tanks successfully landed, delivering a heavy barrage of artillery towards the entrance to the tunnel. Realizing the defenders could not hold out much longer, and fearful of the consequences should the enemy capture the tunnel where a thousand wounded men lay helplessly, General Jonathan Wainwright surrendered Corregidor to the Japanese.

It's really not surprising that even for Americans, the place has such an emotional significance, especially among veterans and those whose loved ones were killed while serving in the Pacific during World War II. A couple of years ago, I took former CIA director William Webster to Corregidor. As we were walking towards the Pacific War Memorial, I noticed that he was starting to get teary eyed. Webster was a young man during the war, and it caught me off-guard to see a man like him—who was the director of the FBI before becoming CIA director—moved to tears and get emotional upon seeing the shrine honoring the gallant Filipino and American soldiers during the war.

My visit to Corregidor is one of the times when one sorely misses Max Soliven, who is so well-versed in history especially during the period of World War II. He would recount stories with such knowledge and authority it made whoever was listening feel like it was happening right there and then. I brushed up on my history prior to the visit to Corregidor, but I was still surprised to learn from our young guide that my namesake Babe Ruth (not the famous chocolate bar), was actually in Corregidor before the war, playing baseball in the island's youth camp.

Being the 65th anniversary of the Fall of Corregidor, it's rather unfortunate that not a lot of Filipinos remember, much less know, the significance of this date. I was told by our tour guide that there aren't that many student groups visiting Corregidor. I think a visit to the historic island should be made a part of the school curriculum, especially for those studying Philippine history and that period during World War II.

Even if many Filipinos today were born after the war, we should never forget the past, and honor the heroic men and women who gave up their lives for this country. There are not many veterans left now, but the remaining few take pride in the fact that they fought bravely and courageously. They have endured the hardships of war. They have looked death in the face. But the fighting men of Corregidor knew that like the Malinta Tunnel, there was going to be light at the end—the light of freedom which will never be extinguished as long as it lives inside each and every Filipino. We should always remember Corregidor.