It was a quiet night until all hell broke loose at midnight, continuing off and on until 0600. In the morning I biked down to see the cause of the commotion and ran into four American howitzers (155s) some 125 yards from us behind Santol. Early this morning, several Japanese mortar shells landed in our street short of their target. After waiting to get a fix on its position, the Americans eventually gave up and sent a mighty barrage against the Walled City. I have a feeling though that the Japanese mortar was located around Dewey Boulevard, and would be back again.

While lessening groups of humanity continued their flight from South Manila via the pontoon bridge, actual news as to the progress of the fighting there was as elusive as ever. Nagtahan was as dusty and busy as ever with American traffic and refugees moving in opposite directions. On the sides, Filipina women were washing clothes and leaving them on top of bushes to dry. The clothes went in stained and dirty, and came out muddy but cleaner.

I hung around Nagtahan all day listening to the continued reports of Japanese atrocities. I'm almost convinced that the Japanese deliberately killed innocent civilians and burned their properties. I played devil's advocate with myself seeking some defense for their actions but found only weak excuses. I dare not share my doubts with any of the refugees; none of them had a contrary opinion or showed any bitterness toward the Americans for their cautious tactics or relentless shelling.

Doing my duty, I talked to the American artillerymen in España about their recent targets and firing accuracy. They all said the same thing — they were firing at Intramuros and not at the other districts. I played detective and drew a perfect zero.

Reports from the survivors were very pessimistic. One Gonzalez youth seemed ready to drop in weariness as he struggled across the bridge with that certain wild look in his eyes. "Malate? Only 5% will be saved," he told me. Many think Ermita will see 90% casualties — 100% in San Luis and Isaac Peral Streets where the Japanese effectively blew up everything.

A friend, whose sister suffered the same fate as Mrs. Viaplana, told me the South Manila streets were full of Filipino and Japanese corpses. People's feelings were such that they stoned the latter. Another friend explained:

There it was ... dead ... I looked at it — and kicked it. Senseless, of course but I couldn't help it. If you'd only seen what I saw ... those bastards!

. . . .

continues...