by Nunilo M. de Leon
It was the morning of December 8, 1941, a Sunday. We were walking home from the church when Inang noticed a visibly-agitated crowd in front of the Daet Municipio and learned that the worst we had feared had happened. The Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. Hurrying home, we told Tatang who switched on the shortwave radio. He found out that the news was for real and war had already been declared. As a US commonwealth, the Philippines was at war too. That same afternoon, we packed, entrusted our pet dog to a neighbor, closed our house, gave the keys to the landlord and rushed to Manguisok. There, Tatang’s superiors, Alexander Morris, a Scotsman, and Giorgi Skribikin, a Czarist Russian, were getting ready to leave, hiring Alatco cars to take them to the railroad in Sipocot and on to Manila. They were in a rush. Morris was with his wife Dorothy, and daughter Margaret, and wanted to catch a ship in Manila to return to England, or proceed to any British colony. Giorgi, who claimed to be a bachelor and who had fled Russia after World War I, just wanted to join his compatriots in Manila. He was a stateless refugee. Morris told Tatang to stay behind, close down the company’s operations, safeguard the company assets and wait for further instructions from the head office in Manila. He was to retain essential personnel but pay off the rest. Tatang accepted the responsibility. Everyone believed that the war would not last very long. The Americans were believed to be too mighty for the Japanese.
Lolo Luis was still in Manguisok and so were Tio Joaquin and his family. Over Tatang’s shortwave radio, we tried to keep abreast of things. Japanese planes had raided Nichols Field and Fort McKinley in Pasay and Makati, the Port Area in Manila, and Clark Field in Pampanga. After a few more days, the Japanese landed near Legaspi in Albay province, only a hundred or so kilometers away. Then came other landings in Aparri, in La Union, in Lingayen, but these were far away in the north and did not bother us too much. Then we heard of the landing in Atimonan, in Tayabas province, which linked the Bicol region to Manila. That cut off the land route from the Bicol Peninsula to Manila. Tatang got a radio message from Manila, which authorized him to abandon the facilities and allow the employees to ransack the place once the Japanese came near enough.
It was the morning of December 8, 1941, a Sunday. We were walking home from the church when Inang noticed a visibly-agitated crowd in front of the Daet Municipio and learned that the worst we had feared had happened. The Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. Hurrying home, we told Tatang who switched on the shortwave radio. He found out that the news was for real and war had already been declared. As a US commonwealth, the Philippines was at war too. That same afternoon, we packed, entrusted our pet dog to a neighbor, closed our house, gave the keys to the landlord and rushed to Manguisok. There, Tatang’s superiors, Alexander Morris, a Scotsman, and Giorgi Skribikin, a Czarist Russian, were getting ready to leave, hiring Alatco cars to take them to the railroad in Sipocot and on to Manila. They were in a rush. Morris was with his wife Dorothy, and daughter Margaret, and wanted to catch a ship in Manila to return to England, or proceed to any British colony. Giorgi, who claimed to be a bachelor and who had fled Russia after World War I, just wanted to join his compatriots in Manila. He was a stateless refugee. Morris told Tatang to stay behind, close down the company’s operations, safeguard the company assets and wait for further instructions from the head office in Manila. He was to retain essential personnel but pay off the rest. Tatang accepted the responsibility. Everyone believed that the war would not last very long. The Americans were believed to be too mighty for the Japanese.
Lolo Luis was still in Manguisok and so were Tio Joaquin and his family. Over Tatang’s shortwave radio, we tried to keep abreast of things. Japanese planes had raided Nichols Field and Fort McKinley in Pasay and Makati, the Port Area in Manila, and Clark Field in Pampanga. After a few more days, the Japanese landed near Legaspi in Albay province, only a hundred or so kilometers away. Then came other landings in Aparri, in La Union, in Lingayen, but these were far away in the north and did not bother us too much. Then we heard of the landing in Atimonan, in Tayabas province, which linked the Bicol region to Manila. That cut off the land route from the Bicol Peninsula to Manila. Tatang got a radio message from Manila, which authorized him to abandon the facilities and allow the employees to ransack the place once the Japanese came near enough.
Some time later, news came that the Japanese were in Sipocot, some forty kilometers from Manguisok. Tatang knew it was time to implement the evacuation order. He had the gates to the company compound opened and told the remaining company staff to help themselves to whatever they needed. We evacuated to a “kaingin” a few kilometers away from the company compound. Aside from the five of us in the family were Lolo Luis, Tio Joaquin’s family and Salome, our maid, twelve in all, a rather large group. Soon the Japanese reached the company compound and began to search for Tatang and the other staff. The Japanese wanted the company to resume operations. Tatang decided to retreat deeper into the jungles and swamps between Manguisok and Basud. We decided to separate into two groups, easier to move around and hide. One group had the five of us in the family plus our maid. The other group had Tio Joaquin and his family plus Lolo Luis. We moved continuously and did not stay long in any single place. We slept in crude shacks in “kaingins” or in make-shift lean-tos made of twigs and leaves in the forest or on raised “bakawan” platforms in the swamps or out in the open when on the seashore. We could see monkeys and “kalaw” birds feeding in the trees during the day and hear wild pigs grunting in the swamps at night. Insects, especially voracious mosquitoes, were with us day and night. We subsisted on “kamote”, frogs, fish and other forest food provided by the forest folks. What we had previously learned about which forest plants were edible proved useful while we were in the jungles. Inang, we discovered, had her own jungle lore. Every place we would stop, she would dig a shallow hole, place her valuables inside, cover them with some soil and leaves and make it a temporary latrine. She made sure she remembered to dig up her valuables before we left the place. Tio Joaquin’s group did not move around as much. They had found shelter with one of the company laborers who had a “kaingin” farther away and more secluded than the others and stayed there for much of this evacuation period.
This went on for several weeks. Although Alatco had resumed some of its short-haul trips, Manila was still inaccessible by land. Tatang decided to stay in hiding until we could find a way to reach Manila safely.
However, things took a turn for the worse. The Japanese were no longer doing the actual searching for us. Instead, pro-Japanese Filipinos, “makapili” members of the “Makabayang Pilipino”, had taken over. Tatang knew they were going to be more dangerous than the Japanese. We could retreat deeper into the jungle and proceed to Lolo Ramon’s homestead at the slopes of Mount Labo, which was more thickly forested. Tatang decided to leave the jungle instead and hide closer to populated areas. Inang had acquaintances in Naga, Camarines Sur, about eighty kilometers away. We would try to seek refuge there. With the help of “kaingeros” who knew the way and could be trusted, we made our way to the Basud River, which we reached after a long trek through the jungle. We sent word to Tio Joaquin to rejoin our group. After linking up, we made a night crossing of the river and reached the road between Daet and Sipocot. Tatang contacted one of his former staff, who lived in Basud, and asked him about the availability of transportation to Naga. We were told that Alatco buses to Naga passed by regularly and that one was due that same afternoon. To be less conspicuous, we separated into three groups and stayed out of sight in the bushes beside the road until we saw the bus coming. Tatang was a hundred meters from us and boarded the bus first. Inang then flagged down the bus and got on with us three kids and Salome. A third stop farther down the road and it was the turn of Lolo Luis, Tio Joaquin and his family to come on board. In the bus, we pretended to be strangers to one another.
We stayed with the Morelos family in Naga for about two weeks. They were related to Inang, in what way is not clear to me. We stayed there until we learned that a route to Manila, circuitous though it might be, had been opened. Tatang and Inang decided to take the trip.
Early one morning, we rode on carretelas to Pasacao, Camarines Sur, on the shores of Ragay Gulf. The Japanese were said to be raving rapists so Inang and Tia Mary disguised themselves as pregnant, hoping to escape notice. The next stage of the trip would be a boat ride, on a “batel” or large outrigger banca, with an inboard engine. We boarded the overloaded boat but had to wait for we knew not what. Imagine how scared we were when four Japanese soldiers, “rapists”, jumped into the boat. They were to guard the boat. Our fear gradually subsided when we saw that the soldiers, all of them young, were paying the passengers no attention and were out to enjoy themselves. They removed their shirts, basked in the sun, enjoyed the breeze, sipped tea, ate their rice-ball lunch and even fired their rifles at some dolphins which frolicked for a while around our boat. I could see they were poor shots. It was early evening when we reached Guinayangan at the head of the gulf, a little distance southwest of Lopez, in Tayabas province. We slept on bamboo benches that night, in a shed which served as a bus station. Early the following morning, we boarded an old bus, which took us to Manila. Early that same evening, we reached the bus terminal, a store in front of the Far Eastern University on Quezon Blvd. There we spent the night on the bare cement floor. The following morning, Lolo Luis, Tio Joaquin and his family left for San Nicolas in Pangasinan. I do not know what means they used to reach their hometown.
For the final stage in our trip, the five of us in the family, plus Salome, took a carretela to Malolos. During the trip, we could hear the continuous rumble of cannon fire coming from the west. Our “kutsero” said that the sound of guns was coming from Bataan, where the fighting between the USAFFE and the Japanese had become fiercer. At about 2 o’clock that afternoon, we reached Tampoy. It was mid-March 1942.
Mr. Nunilo M. De Leon thank you for this vlog. I am George Skribikin, Jr., the son of Georgi Skribikin which you mentioned. I was born 1i 1947 in Naga City. As far as I know, I was the only child. I found your vlog by chance while I was searching the internet about the surname Skribikin. I was so happy when I saw this vlog. It added more information in regards to my father . I never knew that he was a White Russian because according to him he was from Finland. My doubts of him being Finnish is when I found out, also from the internet, one Anatoly Skribikin, a Minister of Interior from a Russian province who rescued a helicopter crush, then I found your vlog and found out that he is from Russia and not Finland.
You can contact me at my e-mail address and I just love to have some exchanges of notes with you. Once again thank you so much. It was very enlightening on my part.
If you happen to know MNL48, an all girl idol group in Manila, Gabb Skribikin, one of its member is my grandaughter.
Thank you and regards to your family.