Mt.
Samat
lies in the center of the Bataan
peninsula, directly west, and across the blue water of Maynila Bay, Philippines.
And so it began in the year of our Lord, Nineteen Hundred and Forty-two.
Mt.
Samat had
fallen and great was her capitulation swoon before the eyes of world. The
beleaguered mountain had resisted unto the end the onslaught of seasoned
soldiers from the Imperial Japanese 14th Army. The defense of the mountain
delivered by the Filipino/American defenders was unto their death. They fought on
without food, drinking dirty water, living in their putrid foxholes, in hope,
and expecting aid form their provider, the peoples of America.
Ravaged by malaria, beriberi, and dengue fever, the defenders fought day after
day until the strength to stand and lift their weapons departed from their
bodies. After months of famine, they were left hapless, helpless, but most
unfortunately alone. It was not only the deleted strength of body that siphoned
away their desire to fight and win, but the rape of their wills by the
deceitful tongues from across the deep Pacific Ocean.
And so it happened that Mt.
Samat
fell under the long arm of the Nipponese Empire on Easter Sunday, April 5th 1942, with groans, and moans
coming from the mountain, and blood and water flowing from the bodies of the
vanquished, as fresh streams caress dry riverbeds after a summer flood.
Defeated, the living left the dead on the slopes of Samat,
and assembled on the eastern sector of the Bataan
peninsula to await the enemy’s final blow.
With the coming of the morning of
April 8th surrender rumors circulated from the Filipino/American Headquarters
at Mariveles, the sleepy barrio on the toe of the peninsula
of Bataan.
Fearful voices entered into the surrender debate asking questions of life and death.
What would be the outcome? Would the surrender be conditional? Would the enemy
honor their fallen foe? Were the rumors of a pogrom against the white soldiers
true? After many hours of debate, practically all American/Filipino forces
decided to honor the ensuing unconditional surrender. That is, all American
forces except for two uncommon soldiers.
And so it was that a former
American warrior, Major Robert Joseph Horton, decided to stay hidden in the Mariveles Mountains,
and not tread the path of a prisoner. Being wounded at the great Battle of Abucay, he had convalesced under the shadow of Mt.
Limay.
Perhaps it was because of the dark hands that healed his body he chose the path
of resistance, and did not accepted the unconditional surrender terms of General
Masaharu Homma, Imperial 14th army Commander.
Sergeant Joshua David Duncan, an
uncouth American soldier from the United States Army’s Signal Corps, chose to
deify the surrender order because of the birth of his illegitimate Mestiza daughter to a native girl whom he loved. Unknown to
one another, Robert Joseph Horton, and Joshua David Duncan would meet in the
mountains while striving to survive.
Unknown to one another, only one would live to tell their story.
Thus follows the record of what
happened deep in the jungles, mountains, and savannas of Bataan after the greatest defeat in the
history of the United States Army. It is a story of forbidden discoveries,
wondrous adventures, grand explorations, but more than anything else it is a
story of love. It is a story of the ripping away of racial, ethnic, and
spiritual bigotry from the hearts of two preordained white men, former sons of
the American South, held captive by their own hearts while living in a world of
golden hued people.
This is the reoccurring, and
never ending story of love, striving valiantly to conquer evil outside the
great Crown Ring of the Mariveles
Mountains.
