3 PLANES ARRIVE WITH
80 SURVIVORS OF “DEATH MARCH”
Hamilton Field, Calif., Sept 25 (U.P.)—Three transport planes carrying 80 survivors of the Bataan death march and Wake Island … landed here today.
The roar of the planes failed to drown out the happy shouts of relatives as they watched the craft land. Many of the liberated prisoners were weeping as they stepped from the ramps.
Excerpt from the Washington Post, September 26, 1945
Dan struggled to choke back tears when his booted feet climbed the metal steps of the airplane. He took his seat next to a window and waited for the rumble of the engines to tell him they would soon take off. He’d made it. He was leaving Manila, going home. He could hardly believe it.
As each minute in the sky brought him closer, he found himself wiping his face with the back of his hand, blotting out the tears from his clean, shaven cheeks.
Memories filled his mind of saying good-bye to Libby on that rainy morning, the bombings at Clark Field, the death march, the hell ships, the mines. He caught his breath—Gabe.
Oh, buddy. I wouldn’t have made it without you.
He remembered the months in solitary and his final conversation with Natty. Lord, please take care of him.
Dan looked at his thin, weak hands. Would they ever be strong again? Will I ever be the man I used to be? His jailers had broken his body—memories plagued him of beatings, hunger, and the malaria that still weakened him. But his body would heal. Good food, rest, the army’s best medicine. He was already on the mend.
The years imprisoned had also broken his heart. The verbal abuse, being treated as less than human. And so many friends gone. Tex, José, Paulo, Tony. His chest tightened.
Dan stared out the window at the sun breaking away from the velvet darkness, rising over the pink and orange clouds. His heart? Well, that was being healed too.
He opened his Bible and took out the old, crinkled, faded picture of Libby. Along with that silly pocket-knife, it had been his only possession for so many months. Libby.
How many tears had he cried over that photo? Was the image real? Could it be that in just a few hours he’d come face-to-face with the person his heart had longed for most?
Dan exited the airplane into the cool California morning and gazed out over the crowds amassed on the tarmac of Hamilton Field, the tears returning again. They flooded down Dan’s cheeks and dripped off his chin. Home. After all that darkness.
His knees felt weak, and he gripped the handrail to steady himself. C’mon, legs, don’t fail me now. The warm sunshine kissed his face, and all he could do was whisper, “Thank You. Thank You …”
He took in the sounds of the crowd of mothers, fathers, wives, sons, daughters on the tarmac—all waving, cheering, most weeping.
He waved and scanned the faces, noticing a woman and three young boys screaming, “Daddy! Daddy!”
The oldest one pointed. “I see him! My dad! Look!” He grabbed the youngest into his arms and pointed again. “That’s your daddy.”
Dan turned away as the woman ran into the soldier’s arms.
He scanned the crowds. Where is she? Where’s Libby?
He finally caught sight of his mother’s frantically waving arms and beaming face. His father stood behind her, and Dan could clearly make out his voice over the crowd. “My son. He’s home. My son!”
Flashbulbs and voices blurred as Dan rushed into his mother’s embrace.
“You’re home, oh, Daniel.” Her body shook; whether from laughter or tears, he couldn’t tell, maybe both. She squeezed his neck so tightly he didn’t know if he’d ever escape. When she finally did release him, she held him at arm’s length. “Oh, you’re so thin.” She wiped his tears with her trembling hands. “But we’ll fix that.”
He placed a warm kiss on her cheek. “Mom, I missed you so much.”
“Enough, woman!” Dan’s dad interrupted. He grabbed Dan into a hug even tighter than his mom’s. “I’m so proud of you, Son. I couldn’t be prouder.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Dan managed to say. “Now, where’s Libby? Isn’t she here?”
His mother’s eyebrows creased. “Dan, dear. She’s waiting in her father’s truck. She’s having a bad day, headaches again. I think it’s all the excitement. Did you get my letter?”
“Yeah, yeah. She has a little vision problem. But she’s alive and breathing, right? Come on. I need to hold my girl.”
Dan hurried through the crowd, hoping his parents trailed behind. He tugged on his pants, wishing he’d gotten a smaller size or he had another notch to tighten his belt. Even after the weeks spent at the hospital in Manila, he was fifty pounds lighter than when he’d entered the service. But he was alive. He was home, and that’s all the mattered.
He moved past the first row of vehicles, looking into truck windows. His heart pounded.
“What took you so long, soldier?” said a voice from behind him. “What’s it been, a thousand nights, at least?”
Dan turned. Years of welled-up emotions flooded him, and instead of whisking her into his arms as he’d imagined a thousand times, he froze. Stared. Her eyes were so beautiful, brown and warm. Her lips looked so soft, warm, kissable. And in her hair she wore an orchid.
He pulled her into his embrace.
“Libby. It’s you.” He breathed in the scent of her. Kissed her hair. Then he set her down and traced the outline of her face. “It’s really you.”
Two weeks after their quiet wedding in Dan’s parents’ backyard and a romantic honeymoon on the Oregon coast, Libby awoke to the sound of Dan’s mother singing from the kitchen. They decided it would be best to stay with his parents awhile—until Dan finished his classes on the GI bill and they could get on their feet.
The smells of pancakes sizzling on a grill brought a smile to Libby’s face.
Sunlight sifted in through the white curtains as she snuggled in closer to Dan. She pressed her cheek against his chest and ran a finger over his muscular arm.
She glanced up at Dan’s model airplanes that she’d seen on her first visit to Ima Jean’s house. At that time Libby hadn’t been sure she’d ever see Dan again. Now … she sighed and sank back into her pillow.
“You awake?” he whispered, brushing the hair from her face.
“Mm-hm.”
“Did you hear that?”
“You mean how your heartbeat quickened as I pulled myself closer?”
He kissed her forehead. “Not only that. The words of the song my mom’s singing.”
“‘Amazing Grace’?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’ve heard them hundreds of times, but …”
“I once was lost, but now I’m found. Was blind but now I see,” Libby whispered.
He pulled her tighter against him. “Yeah, that part. Amazing, isn’t it?”