All these houses are on or bordering Pennsylvania. All houses on one side of that street are down except for one home and Joe's house behind it. Directly across the street, five houses are still standing side-by-side — almost all probably hit by American shells. On the other hand, Benz showed me where a Japanese "phosphorus bomb" hit the house in front of Jo-Jo's. It exploded against concrete and failed to ignite the home. It was the first real mention of a phosphorus bomb for me, and it really seemed to have come from the Japanese side. Mrs. Arbadji confirmed that the Khan house was blown up: the blast shattered most of the glass panes on her house. Odette was open to the possibility that it might have been a shell.

. . . .

Benz and Jo-Jo took me to the burned out house at 1195 Singalong that still smelled horrible 40 days after the event. Handkerchief over nose, I went in and saw a man's foot, some bones, and even pieces that I was told were human flesh. Benz heard that 200 were killed there; I would put it at not more than 30.

While we were on this short journey, Tito Luling joined us. His house was on the safer east side of Taft. One of his legs suffered several shrapnel wounds during the battle. A week before the battle, the Japanese warned people to stay inside their homes and not look out once the battle started. In the midst of it he looked out of his window and saw a man being apprehended by an excited Japanese. The demeanor of the Japanese being obvious, the man pleaded in a loud voice that he had come out to buy food. (Who would be selling food in Taft at such a time?) "It was clear," continued Tito, "that the Jap didn't understand him and couldn't care less." He was tied to a tree and shot. Incidentally Benz et al first heard that the Americans had arrived on the 4th, "but by the 10th we began to doubt it" — until contact was made at 1830, February 14."

. . . .

A well-educated Syrian told me his complete story — rich in detail but devoid of sensation. He lived with his wife and their eight-year old son in a four-house compound near the Rizal Memorial Stadium. He got in trouble with the Japanese early: A single rifle shot apparently aimed at the Japanese caused them to go into a frenzy of searches. While their kid hid with the neighbors, the Japanese took the couple to the Nippon Club on Sunday afternoon, February 4, along with the book he was reading and a broken radio. The discovery of a toy pistol as well didn't help matters. Blindfolded and tied to separate trees, he was questioned and slapped while his wife was threatened and fainted twice. As evening neared they were released with the usual warning: Go home, stay there, keep out of sight and close all windows. The Japanese were nervous about guerrillas in the area.

continues...