During World War II, the Bataan Death March was a horrific forced march by the Japanese Imperial Army on American and Filipino prisoners of war. The 63-mile march from the southern end of the Bataan Peninsula in the Philippines began on April 9, 1942, with at least 72,000 POWs. According to some accounts, 75,000 soldiers were taken prisoner after the Bataan surrender; about 12,000 Americans and 63,000 Filipinos. The Bataan Death March resulted in an estimated 7,000 to 10,000 deaths due to the prisoners’ deplorable conditions and cruel treatment.

“This was the First Murder”

Captain William Dyess was a fighter pilot stationed on Luzon when the Japanese invaded. Captured when the American forces on Bataan surrendered, he joined the Death March and was interned by the Japanese. In April 1943, Captain Dyess was one of three prisoners able to escape from their captors. Captain Dyess eventually made his way back to America, where his story was published.

“The victim, an air force captain, was being searched by a three-star private. Standing by was a Jap commissioned officer, hand on the sword hilt. These men were nothing like the toothy, bespectacled runts whose photographs are familiar to most newspaper readers. They were cruel of face, stalwart, and tall.

‘’The private, a little squirt, was going through the captain’s pockets. All at once, he stopped and sucked in his breath with a hissing sound. He had found some Jap yen.

“He held these out, ducking his head and sucking in his breath to attract notice. The big Jap looked at the money. Without a word, he grabbed the captain by the shoulder and shoved him down to his knees. He pulled the sword out of the scabbard and raised it high over his head, holding it with both hands. The private skipped to one side.’

‘Before we could grasp what was happening, the black-faced giant had swung his sword. I remember how the sun flashed on it. There was a swish and a kind of chopping thud, like a cleaver going through beef’.

‘The captain’s head seemed to jump off his ‘shoulders. It hit the ground in front of him and went rolling crazily from side to side between the lines of prisoners.’

‘The body fell forward. I have seen wounds, but never such a gush of—blood as this. The heart continued to pump for a few seconds, and at each beat, there was another great spurt of blood. The white dust around our feet was turned into crimson mud. I saw the hands were opening and closing spasmodically. Then I looked away.’

‘When I looked again, the big Jap had put up his sword and was strolling off. The runt who had found the yen was putting them into his pocket. He helped himself to the captain’s possessions.’

“This was the first murder.”

Oriental Sun Treatment

As the prisoners were herded north, they collided with advancing Japanese troops moving to the south, forcing a brief halt to the march:

“Eventually, the road became so crowded we were marched into a clearing. For two hours, we had our first taste of the oriental sun treatment, which drains the stamina and weakens the spirit.

The Japs seated us on the scorching ground, exposed to the full glare of the sun. Many of the Americans and Filipinos had no covering to protect their heads. I was beside a small bush, but it cast no shade because the sun was almost directly above us. Many of the men around me were ill.

When I thought I could stand the penetrating heat no longer. I was determined to have a sip of the tepid water in my canteen. I had no more than unscrewed the top when the aluminum flask was snatched from my hands. The Jap who had crept up behind me poured the water into a horse’s nose-bag, then threw down the canteen. He walked on among the prisoners, taking away their water and pouring it into the bag. When he had enough, he gave it to his horse.”

Drop-outs

The parade of death continues its journey as its members inevitably succumb to the heat, the lack of food, and the lack of water:

“The hours dragged by and, as we knew, they must. The drop-outs began. It seemed that a great many of the prisoners reached the end of their endurance at about the same time. They went down by twos and threes. Usually, they made an effort to rise. I never can forget their groans and strangled breathing as they tried to get up. Some succeeded. Others lay lifeless where they had fallen.

I observed that the Jap guards paid no attention to these. I wondered why. The explanation wasn’t long in coming. There was a sharp crackle of pistol and rifle fire behind us.

Skulking along, a hundred yards behind our contingent, came a ‘clean-up squad’ of murdering Jap buzzards. Their helpless victims, sprawled darkly against the white of the road, were easy targets.

As members of the murder squad stooped over each huddled form, there would be an orange ‘flash in the darkness and a sharp report. The bodies were left where they lay, that other prisoners coming behind us might see them.

Our Japanese guards enjoyed the spectacle in silence for a time. Eventually, one of them who spoke English felt he should add a little spice to the entertainment.

‘Sleeper?’ he asked. ‘You won’t sleep? Just lie down on the road. You get good long sleep!’

On through the night, we were followed by orange flashes and thudding sounds.”

Arrival at San Fernando

Finally, after five days without food and little water, the dwindling column arrives at its destination:

“The sun still was high in the sky when we straggled into San Fernando, a city of 36,000 population, and were put in a barbed wire compound similar to the one at Orani. We were seated in rows for a continuation of the sun treatment. Conditions here were the worst yet.

The prison pen was jammed with sick, dying, and dead American and Filipino soldiers. They were sprawled amid the filth and maggots that covered the ground. Practically all had dysentery. Malaria and dengue fever appeared to be running unchecked. There were symptoms of other tropical diseases I didn’t even recognize.

Jap guards had shoved the worst cases beneath the rotted flooring of some dilapidated building. Many of these prisoners had already died. The others looked as though they couldn’t survive until morning.

There had been no burials for many hours.

After sunset Jap soldiers entered and inspected our rows.

Then the gate was opened again, and kitchen corpsmen entered with cans of rice. We held our mess kits and again passed lids to those who had none. Our spirits rose. We watched as the Japs ladled out generous helpings to the men nearest the gate.

Then, without explanation, the cans were dragged away, and the gate was closed. It was a repetition of the ghastly farce at Balanga. The fraud was much crueler this time because our need was vastly more significant. In our bewildered state, it took some time for the truth to sink in. When it did, we were too discouraged even to swear.”

References:

This eyewitness account appears in Dyess, William E., The Dyess Story (1943);

www.goodreads.com/book/show/22036323-the-dyess-story—the-eye-witness-account-of-the-death-march-from-bataan

brokenmap.com/horrors-of-the-bataan-death-march

In 1982, Gen. Galtieri’s Argentine military regime faced increased domestic trouble at home and they were looking to hold on to power. Since the formation of the Argentine state, the Malvinas issue (Basically the Sovereignty over the Falkland Islands between Argentina and the United Kingdom) had created political and domestic passions and heated debate in Argentina. It was the ideal moment for Galtieri to reclaim what Buenos Aires called the “lost islands”. Negotiations with the British over sovereignty had been going on for many years, with various British governments being more sympathetic than others to the proposal.  Long-standing tensions between the two countries reached a head on March 19, 1982, when some Argentinian scrap metal workers lifted their country’s flag at an abandoned whaling station on the even-further-away island of South Georgia, which was then a Dependency of the Falkland Islands. Two weeks later, on April 2, Argentinian troops stormed South Georgia’s Leith Harbor, overwhelming main British outposts without causing any casualties. But after conquering the islands, Galtieri and the junta regime faced one big problem: Margaret Thatcher. Thatcher’s Conservative government, which was dealing with increasing unemployment, rising interest rates, and an ailing economy, was also facing a degree of domestic hostility. The Argentine invasion of British sovereign territory was intolerable to Thatcher and much of the world and had to be dealt with. There were no contingency measures for the Falklands at the government level or within the military, let alone possessing the mechanisms to launch a task force to fly the 7,000 miles to the islands. Despite efforts to secure a diplomatic solution at the United Nations and through the Reagan administration, the two parties were stubborn and war appeared inevitable.

Lt. Col. Mike Rose, commanding officer of 22nd Special Air Service Regiment in Hereford, was on the phone to the headquarters of the British Antarctic Survey Group in Cambridge during the afternoon of Friday, 02 April 1982. Having learned that Argentine forces had invaded the Falklands, Rose swung into action and called in the regiment’s top advisors, canceled leave, and created a command situation. The situation was a difficult one for SAS planners. In the case of the invasion, no contingency arrangements were in place to rehabilitate the Falklands. This possibly owed more to the Ministry of Defence’s general disbelief that an operation to recover the Falklands was feasible. The tiny British settlement of the Ascension Islands, about 3,700 miles from the UK and halfway between the Royal Navy’s ports and the Falklands themselves, was the only practical ‘jump off’ point for the Falklands.

In Hereford, events started to move fast. Keen (had to use a British word) to play a pivotal role for his men in the upcoming operation, Rose provided SBS (Special Boat Service) with the services of two specialist Boat Squadron men who were preparing to sail to the South Atlantic. Rose was closely aligned with Brigadier Julian Thompson OBE, who commanded a landing on the islands for the operation code-named “Corporate”. An advance group from “D” Squadron SAS joined their SBS comrades on Sunday, 04 April and flew to the Ascension Islands. The Falklands Task Force was commanded by Rear Adm. Sandy Woodward on his flagship HMS Hermes, specially approved by the British Cabinet. The Battle Command Headquarters, Operation Corporate’s command center, was also located onboard Hermes. In an attack on the island of South Georgia, about 900 miles south of the Falklands, the men of D Squadron SAS’s mission were to join 42 Royal Marine Command.

San Carlos Bay beaches on East Falkland offered the best hope of a British landing for Task Force Commander Woodward. On the opposite side of the island from Port Stanley, before the long march across the island to seize Stanley, the Brits needed to establish a bridgehead. The problem for Woodward was that, to the west of the San Carlos beaches, the Argentinians had built a forward airbase on Pebble Island. The threat needed to be neutralized, with a garrison of over 100 men armed with ground attack IA-58 Pucaras, each with two 20 mm cannons and four 7.62 machine-guns. D Squadron’s boat troop men, fresh from South Georgia operations, were assigned to recce on Pebble Island. On the night of Tuesday, 11 May, the reconnaissance party’s forward frame edged its way to the narrow one-mile strip of land bordered by the sea on either side and offered no natural cover. The D Squadron men had to travel with extreme care and were forced to leave their Bergen backpacks in a shallow hollow to avoid detection against the horizon. However, the Argentinian sentries were not especially alert. The rest of Woodward’s landing fleet gathered before beachhead landings at San Carlos as the recce party confirmed Hermes’ findings.

G Squadron Assault (Mountain Troop)

The timeline was tight for the attack on Pebble Island. The assignment was given to Capt. John (Gavin) Hamilton, a young 29-year-old Mountain Troop Leader. Hamilton and his men had already survived two helicopter crashes in Fortuna Glacier’s blizzard conditions in the thick of the South Georgia action. Still, he led his men to seize the outpost of Grytviken, the former whaling station. He was under no illusion as to the scope of the mission and the dangers involved as he briefed the Mountain Troops’ men.

Onboard HMS Hermes, Hamilton briefed his men, but there were some problems. As the Hermes faced the South Atlantic’s heavy headwinds, she was well behind schedule, and she arrived late at the launch site. The foul weather had stopped the Sea King helicopters from being set up on the flight deck as they steamed west to make things worse. With the legendary SAS versatility, Hamilton was forced to revise the attack plan and change the production to take 30 minutes instead of the initial 90. With the men of the Mountain Troops armed with 81 mm mortars, M203 grenade launchers, and the deadly Rule 66 mm anti-tank rockets, the Sea King left Hermes’ deck. In support, to take out the Argentinean garrison positions, a Naval gunnery officer landing with the SAS said he would help provide the Naval Gunfire Support (NGFS) directing the fire from the decks of HMS Glamorgan of their 4.5-inch guns. The Sea King touched down four miles from the airstrip at a point marked out by the Boat Troop in reasonably calm weather. As troops from the Boat Squadron established a defensive perimeter, Hamilton and his men emerged from the Helo and started to unload mortar bombs and light guns. The Mountain Troopers were instantly hit by the unbelievable moonlight and the silhouette problems against the solid landscape began. The SAS men humped their way across Pebble Island to the airstrip after a short briefing from the Boat Troop (G Squadron) commander.

The outline of the FMA IA 58 Pucará (an Argentine ground-attack and counterinsurgency) (COIN) came clearly into place as they approached the airstrip, as rounds from the guns of HMS Glamorgan started crashing into the Argentinian garrison. Hamilton assembled his men on aircraft dispersals and calmly affixed explosive charges to the waiting Argentinian jets, receiving inaccurate incoming small arms and machine gunfire. The shells from Glamorgan destroyed the Argentinian fuel dump, ammunition store, and watchtower as the first of the Pucaras were blown up, producing some secondary explosions, and illuminating the remaining Pucaras further. The SAS men took out 11 planes, including six Pucaras, four Turbo-Mentors, and a Skyvan transport aircraft, in a 20-minute frenzy of destruction. Between them, in glaring view of the enemy, Hamilton and ‘Paddy’ Armstrong, a Mountain Troop explosives specialist, had destroyed another four Pucaras.

Withdrawal and Assessment

The whole operation was running on time. Within 30 minutes, the SAS had neutralized the Argentinian outpost and all the aircraft. There were minor casualties; one man was struck by shrapnel, and one was concussed from a remote-controlled Argentine mine. The entire SAS force was picked up by the Sea Kings on a tight schedule and transported back to HMS Hermes and Glamorgan, where a well-earned, full-cooked English breakfast awaited! Hamilton confirmed, de-briefly, that the Argentinians had not put on the island a radar facility and that the garrison was made ineffective. As a result, the Argentine force on Pebble Island played no part in opposing the landings in San Carlos, and again the SAS supported the main landing force that had famously crossed East Falkland to free Port Stanley.

On 10 June 1982, while directing naval gunfire from a position overlooking an 800-strong Argentinian garrison, Capt. John Hamilton was tragically killed. Hamilton, surrounded, was killed while covering a soldier who slipped through Argentina’s lines and was finally taken prisoner. The Military Cross was posthumously awarded to Hamilton and the award’s quote cited his “outstanding determination and character, his extraordinary will to fight despite hopeless odds and wounded suffering”. Only four days later, Maj. Gen. Jeremy Moore accepted the surrender of the islands’ Argentine forces, and the Union Jack was returned to the Falklands.

I know this has nothing to do with diving, but I grow up outside of Boston, and I have always felt that this is an excellent piece of history. I am sure many of you have heard this story, but maybe you didn’t know all of it as you should.

On 5th March 1770, British troops in Boston killed five colonists. The incident was stared over a wig that lead to the taunting of  British soldiers in Boston. The British retaliated by firing their muskets at the Americans, killing three and injuring eleven. Two of the injured succumbed to their injuries. The colonists’ deaths, which became known as the Boston Massacre, inflamed American anti-British feelings and was one of the most critical incidents leading up to the Revolutionary War.

It was only a matter of time before the British troops sent to Boston clashed with the colonists. (General Thomas Gage had ordered over 4 British Army regiments to Boston, of which the first regiment landed at Boston on 1st October 1768. Two left in 1769) On 5th March 1770, the day arrived. A British sentry was stationed at the Customs House on King Street that early evening (today “State Street” in downtown Boston.) The colonists started taunting the sentry. The crowd grew quickly. Captain Thomas Preston, the Officer of the Day, ordered seven or eight soldiers under his command to assist the sentry as the crowd rose. Preston was not far behind. The crowd had increased to between 300 and 400 hundred men by the time the additional troops arrived. The British soldiers, whose muskets were loaded, were taunted by an ever-increasing crowd. The crowd then started throwing snowballs at the sentinels. One of the soldiers was knocked out by a colonist. As he stood up, the soldier fired his musket and shouted, “Damn you, shoot!” After a brief pause, British soldiers opened fire on the colonists. Three Americans died instantly: ropemaker Samuel Gray, mariner James Caldwell, and Crispus Attucks, an African American sailor. A ricocheting musket ball hit Samuel Maverick in the back of the crowd, and he died a few hours later in the early morning the next day. Patrick Carr, a thirty-year-old Irish refugee, died two weeks later.

The incident was soon called “the Boston Massacre.” But also known as the “Incident on King Street.” This alternate name is more popular among the British people. The depiction of the above events rapidly spread across the colonies thanks to Boston engraver Paul Revere, who copied a drawing by Henry Pelham. The image inflamed Americans’ distrust of the British. Captain Preston and four of his men were charged with manslaughter and convicted. The soldiers were tried in open court, with one of the Defense Attorneys being John Adams. Preston was found “not guilty” when it became apparent that he did not give the firing order. Some accounts say that the order to fire came from the crowd. The other soldiers were found guilty of manslaughter and had their thumbs branded as a punishment.

What lead to it

All the clashes between soldiers and civilians were published in the “Journal of Occurrences,” which was nothing, but a series of newspaper articles published anonymously. The Journal was aimed at chronicling the clashes between British soldiers and Bostonians, but in doing so, the reports were often exaggerated. These exaggerated reports led to further tensions. Unfortunately, the tensions between the civilians and the soldiers increased significantly after the death of Christopher Seider. He was an 11-year-old, killed on 22nd February 1770 by a British customs employee.

His death raised the tensions between the Britain troops and the civilians of Boston. Seider received the most prominent funeral in Boston, and the Boston Gazette covered the whole event. Media coverage continued and kept the tensions alive. Colonists started harassing soldiers, and the soldiers, in turn, started looking for a confrontation. A young man named Edward Garrick (who was an apprentice of a wig maker) showed up in front of the Boston Custom House and called out to Captain-Lieutenant John Goldfinch.Edward started saying that Goldfinch did not settle a bill from Garrick’s master. (He had paid for the wig the day before). Private Hugh White shouted at Garrick (as privates do) and asked him to be more respectful towards the officers. As the two-man started to yell at each other even louder, this began to make things worse. Garrick began to poke the Private in the chest with his finger. Private White responded by relinquishing his post and striking Garrick on the side of the head with the butt of his musket. Now the crowd started to get bigger. Both sides made threats. Henry Knox, who later became a general in the American Revolutionary War and Ft Knox fame, told the Private that if he fired, he should die for it. As, the evening progressed, the number of people in attendance grew. The church bells were rung. Many people came out because the bells signaled a fire. Private Hugh White, who had taken a safer spot-on Boston Custom House’s steps, was being surrounded by nearly 50 civilians. Crispus Attucks was one of the people in the crowd. He was a former slave who was of mixed race. Private Hugh White was forced to call for help due to the tumultuous crowd. Runners told Captain Thomas Preston, the officer of the watch, about the entire incident. Preston dispatched six privates and a non-commissioned officer from the Regiment of Foot as soon as he received the news. These soldiers were armed with fixed bayonet muskets. Preston had directed them to relieve Private Hugh. Captain Preston accompanied the six privates and the non-commissioned officer on the mission. To get to Private Hugh White, these eight people forced their way through the crowd. When they were approaching Private White, Henry Knox threatened Preston that if he shot, he would die. Preston replied to the alert by saying, “I am aware of it.” When Preston and his men arrived at Private Hugh’s place, the soldiers formed a semi-circular defensive position. They drew their muskets and pointed them at the onlookers. Preston then yelled at the crowd, telling them to disperse. The crowd was estimated to be between 300 and 400 people. Preston’s pleas were ignored, and the crowd began to move forward, tossing small objects and snowballs at the troops. Private Hugh Montgomery was struck by one of the items hurled by the crowd (one of the six privates who came to rescue Private Hugh). Private Montgomery was knocked down and lost his musket as a result of things being thrown at him. Private Montgomery recovered quickly, collected his weapon, and yelled angrily, “Damn you, shoot!” before firing into the crowd. There was a brief period of silence after Private Montgomery fired the shot, ranging from a few seconds to two minutes. After that, the soldiers opened fire on the crowd. Even though Captain Preston had not given any orders to shoot, the soldiers did so anyway.

The bullets struck 11 people in the crowd. Private Montgomery was the soldier who assassinated Crispus Attucks. Samuel Gray was shot and killed by Private Kilroy, a soldier. Although all of the soldiers (including Preston) were arrested the next morning, and they all pleaded not guilty. A town meeting was held at Boston’s Faneuil Hall as Hutchison conducted his investigation. The Bostonians formed a committee to look into the incident. Samuel Adams was the chairman of the committee. The committee looked into it and recommended that troops be removed from Boston. During the initial investigation, four civilians were arrested for taking part in the massacre, but they were later found not guilty and released. The British administrators were forced to transfer the troops to Castle William, an old fort on Boston Harbor, under duress. For the events of 5th March 1770, Samuel Adams coined the word “Boston Massacre.” On 27th November 1770, Captain Thomas Preston and his eight men (including Private White) were brought to trial. Preston was tried separately from the other soldiers. Josiah Quincy Jr. and John Adams were the trial’s defenders. Samuel Adams, the chairman of the Bostonians’ committee, and John Adams’ nephew. Samuel Quincy and Robert Treat Paine were the trial’s attorneys. At the appeal, Captain Thomas Preston was found not guilty on all charges, and he returned to England on 2nd December 1770. For all of the hardships he suffered during the Boston Massacre, he got a £200 reward. Two of the eight soldiers were convicted of manslaughter. Kilroy and Montgomery were sentenced on 14th December 1770, nine days after their trial. They were expected to face the death penalty as a matter of course. Montgomery and Kilroy both filed appellees, and their lives were spared. They were released, but the letter “M” was tattooed on their thumbs, indicating manslaughter. On 8th March, the first three victims of the Boston Massacre were buried at the Granary Burying Ground. On 17th March, the fourth individual to die was buried alongside the first three. The victims’ funeral procession drew 12,000 people from Boston. The procession also paid a visit to the Liberty Tree.