Yesterday Charlie Garriz told me the guerrillas took Mr. Lerocque away. This afternoon Mrs. Garriz said he was dead. As I was leaving for the Menzis, a jeep went up their shared driveway and swung into the Bernards, disgorging one Captain of the Chemical Intelligence Corps ("W-A-L-S-H; it's Irish") and two others wearing camouflage. They said they found his body in recently taken territory, executed by the Japanese. He had a large wound on the head and his neck was half cut-off.

A small crowd gathered at the Bernards: Maurice Klingler; the Mattmans; Campos; Pradera, the Basque Jai-Alai player; and the Bernards. Everyone was in a jolly mood led by, oh yes, Alfonso Duran, who had had a bit too many. The animated talk was of Germany, and the Captain threw out a juicy piece of BALONEY about the fighting there as if we didn't know. The climax however was reached when Duran, fresh off the bottle, pounded the table and roared: "I'll give the Germans 24 hours, no more!"

I worked Walsh around to the fighting on South Manila. "All I know," he said, "is that there are 500 Japs in Intramuros" — a reasonable figure, I thought. How about Ermita? —"Where's that?"

Among other things he said: "We know that one-percent [collaborators] are against us"; the Japanese were using a shell that disperses highly flammable phosphorous gas or liquid; "You're safe enough here [Manga Avenue] to sleep in your beds."

American artillery reached a new high today. It was a common thing downtown to hear the swish of shells over us — steady firing, not a barrage. The Americans also used mortars and dive-bombers; the latter over the U.P. The reply from the Japanese in Intramuros, City Hall, U.P. and perhaps the Legislative Building was limited to machine-guns, rifles and one or two very small cannons. Artillery firing still shakes our house. Straightening one of the pictures on the wall, Ma suddenly realized it was a 1920's picture of the newly wed Mencarinis — R.I.P.

. . . .

Hearing that Bill Dunckel had paid a visit to the Menzis, I went there. A Colonel here before the war, he's now Major General Dunckel, Marshal Provost General, and he plans to live in Manga Avenue. A good friend of Margot and her husband Paul Hartnal, he pulled Paul out of Santo Tomas for a quick visit with Margot. Quite a few people had turned up to meet him but I arrived too late and had to rely on the reports of Maurice, Klingler, Margot and Alfonso Duran.

Duran cornered me and chided me for being with Mrs. Bernard, warning me of "DANGER" as he looked darkly at her. The General "KNEW" ... and I should be discreet. "I'm armed, you know?" he said, patting his back pocket, then looked hurt when I didn't react. "You don't believe me?" And with that, he reached behind for his weapon — a hip flask of Cherry Brandy. After a hearty laugh, we got down to business.

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