Tribune: "Colonel Saito tells future leaders about propaganda in warfare." His big secret: "Ardent and immovable devotion to the Fatherland." In other words, admit no defeat, think no defeat, and see no defeat.

"Japanese forces frustrate American counter-attacks." The article says Munda is crucial to the Solomons campaign, and "repeated American drives ... have failed." Actually, we have it as confirmed that Munda has been taken (next week Tokyo will deny it had any strategic value). The article admits that "the enemy airforce [is] relying on its numerical superiority." Tonight, Ignacio Javier, quoting Domei, said the U.S. Navy too was relying on its numerical superiority in the Solomons. [Page Saito!]

La Vanguardia: "Preparatory Commission Holds First Session Today," with Roxas attending "for the first time." The picture is full of gloomy faces. Roxas probably joined to prevent Laurel from digging a hole as deep as Ba Maw's.

"Gen. Tanaka has left. Sick, he returned to Japan after a rest according to reliable information." My guess is that he disappeared but it had to be kept quiet for a while in case the guerrillas had him.

. . . .

Spent the morning at the Hospital de Santiago in San Pedro, Makati. It was visiting day for about ten Americans internees, most of who had wives at the hospital. I had planned to pep them up with good news, but they knew everything already and even told me something I hadn't yet heard.

I'll never forget the touching farewells as they left — the Howie's baby crying because daddy was leaving; an ill young blonde smiling a bit too broadly; the sad matrons on the side cooing sweetly. Sister Javier, the charming French nun who heads the hospital, had a tear in her eye; and that grand old lady, Mrs. Elizalde, (the hospital is her favorite charity) was there too — busy and full of nervous energy. She gave us a lift home on her Chevrolet.

Twice I was told the story of eight and eleven American prisoners who went to the hospital to get drinking water. They came from a prison camp in Pasay, looking emaciated and wearing nothing but rags — no shoes or hats. (Three prisoners from there were seen to die on the street on their way to or from work.) So dispirited were they that they avoided eye contact with the visitors.

Mrs. de Prida pointed out one of eight Christian brothers of La Salle — "the life of us here." The young man with coral hair had walked right up to the prisoners to help them get water. Holding the blade of a small penknife with his teeth so that his mouth wouldn't move, he managed to deliver them all the good news we've heard with the Japanese none the wiser.

...ooOoo...