Monday morning started with more shelling, deaths and injuries, so they moved again. At this point Kessler lost his mind because that night and early Tuesday morning saw the worst shelling but he hardly felt it. At 0500 on Tuesday, 20 Japanese ran right through the lot retreating towards Taft. The first 18 gingerly picked their way through the refugees and their belongings but the last two broke some dishes. (Some atrocity, eh?) Two hours later American infantrymen appeared. It was Tuesday the 13th, coincidentally Kessler's birthday. "I cried like a baby," he said, "and so did everyone else."

The Americans, advancing behind an artillery barrage that was meant to leave nothing alive in its path, were simply amazed to see all the refugees. They passed cigarettes around and urged them to make for the Sacred Heart Hospital where First Aid was available. Kessler carried a Colonel's muchacha suffering from two slight bullet wounds to Sacred Heart.

I met Kessler this morning outside his office vault as several workmen tried to open its iron door. He had valuable papers inside; I had a case of Vermouth, two cases of local gin and a demijohn of local rum. Progress was slow so I left. Incidentally, Kessler tried to go back to 418 Colorado on Wednesday the 14th but the Japanese had infiltrated back into the area. His house eventually burned on the 15th.

. . . .

The boys didn't show up at the pool so I missed my afternoon swim. Now I know why. It's 2045 and I'm sweating by candlelight while the Casa Blanca is teeming with electric lights. MacArthur has moved in and there's a banquet on. It's going to be a hot month. Coincidentally, his General Headquarters Offices are at the Trade and Commerce Building; we used to be on the 7th floor of the adjacent Wilson Building.

...ooOoo...