Biked downtown to see if I could relieve Maurice, but couldn't find him. Talked to various jeep units and spent a half-hour at Santo Tomas catching up with old friends Paul Meyer, the Connors, Mr. and Mrs. Howie, Bill Hurst, Andy Black and others. All were fine though a bit thinner; the daily food ration for the last month or so was about 189 grams of rice and corn "cereal" — practically nothing else. As soon as they were liberated, the internees tore into their hidden stash of Red Cross canned goods, and have been eating well since.

Maurice spent the night with the half-platoon of five jeeps belonging to the 7th Regiment of the 1st Cavalry Division. The other half of the platoon had a brush with the enemy and returned at 0400. One Colonel Finnegan asked a lot of questions and wanted Maurice to stay on, but Lieutenant Ferntree claimed Maurice for himself. Eventually, Maurice elected to return home to his wife. He left a note with his name and address and received a thank-you note from Ferntree plus some canned goods.

Last night, Maurice heard an angry Chanel Chase complain of not being able to use dive-bombers or artillery in the city while the Japanese were pulverizing the same. MacArthur must have relented, because American artillery behind Santo Tomas was definitely firing by 1130.

. . .

I had quite a time looking at the various vehicles and was particularly impressed by the radio network that controlled each unit at all times. All over the city, American officers were poring over maps; patrols were asking questions and being besieged by offers of lunch, cigar, beer — you name it. Everywhere it was a case of "Please come inside and have a..." something or another. It made no difference if they had little to offer, families competed to uphold the standards of Filipino hospitality. Please have my last grain of rice. I just want to die happy. Everywhere the tired boys went the crowd followed. At every corner turned there would be an outbreak of clapping, backslapping welcomes and offers. Dr. Ayesa himself was passing around the biggest and best cigars I've ever seen, all wrapped in gold tissue. Mrs. de Pedro walked right up to a fellow named Kidder from San Francisco, burst out crying, and hung on to him for a while. He might have been embarrassed, but only a hard man wouldn't have been moved.

The Americans had their own reactions too, best summarized as: "Golly, it's swell to get back to a civilized country after 18 months in the jungles."

continues...