Two American fighters strafed the White Cross Building. This charitable organization has a red cross painted on its roof, but the Japanese occupied it long ago. At least nine Japanese solders were killed or wounded in the first strafing pass.

A picture of Manila today: We've had no transportation since December. The southern and northern sections are socially isolated from each other. Many people don't stray from their neighborhood — the Jones Bridge is crossed only when absolutely necessary. With other things on their mind, the Japanese have been extremely lax about inspections — one can easily carry a bayong of pistols around Santa Mesa. Beggars continually pass by. Food is hard to get — many people are in dire straits and a few are beyond hope. I haven't had an egg or banana in two weeks, and I'm in the well-to-do class.

In the last two days, Japanese discipline has shown signs of cracking. A garrison in Pinaglabanan and Mandaluyong is running wild, terrorizing the people there. Calling themselves kamikazes, they expect the world to give them everything, including women.

More Japanese have been arriving from Marikina. The pretense of blaming the Americans for the coming street-to-street fighting and possible destruction of the city is slowly being dropped. People in Taft Avenue have been advised to leave while they can. Reports say Meralco has been mined. Despite all indications to the contrary, Nabor of the TVT continues to insist that the Japanese will not fight in Manila.

People have ample idle time to worry and speculate about what will happen. They play Bridge, Mahjong, Poker, gossip and talk about hunger, alertness and preparations. Air raid shelters are being rebuilt or strengthened, and bags and valises are packed and ready "just in case." I've checked the condition of our wheelbarrow — it can carry more than I can on my back.

Shots ring out throughout the day: two here, five there, and a spurt of machine-gun fire occasionally. People wonder about the nature and source of distant muffled booms — could the Americans be that close? Now and then one hears the roar of B-24s high overhead.

Speculation is high about another landing. Everyone will say, "I told you so." The Air Raid siren no longer sounds, while church-bells have been banned since last September. The next time we hear them it will surely mean that all is right in the world again.

That is Manila today. The full moon is breathtaking tonight. My thoughts turn to the suffering people in Santo Tomas; they must be disappointed that MacArthur hasn't arrived yet.