Manolo Herman, the ex-USAFFE radio technician who fixed my short-wave GE during the occupation, told me his tragic story this morning. He gave me every detail of it straight, struggling to control his emotions, as I did too, standing in the middle of Legarda Street.

On the night of Saturday, February 3, his dad phoned him from this very street on the North side with news that the Americans were skirmishing with the Japanese around the Far Eastern University.

The following day Manolo's eyes "nearly popped out" when he clearly saw the Japanese carry three "aerial torpedoes" into the huge Michel Apartments. So he was ready to go when the Japanese came around later and told everyone to evacuate to the Remedios Hospital. He's not sure whether it was an order or a suggestion, but soon after, the Japanese started storming into the supposedly vacant homes to conduct searches. Anyone caught inside was shot. This was the first of the terrors, and as the laggards made haste to rush to the hospital, the Japanese made equal haste to shoot the "escapists."

On Tuesday, February 6, the Japanese began setting houses on fire, detonating the "torpedoes" in the Michel Apartments that night. The explosion was easily heard in the Remedios Hospital; some debris even landed there. But either the warheads were not up to the job or they were badly placed because the building shrugged it off. Manolo thinks the Japanese then activated "Plan B" — setting every apartment on fire. That night, all of Carolina behind the hospital burned, and all able bodies were pressed into fighting fires despite the occasional sniping.

On Wednesday night, the Limson Drugstore south of the hospital and just behind it burned. Manolo recalled three hectic nights of firefighting and shelling in the daytime. When everything around the hospital was razed, the increasing number of wounded and dying (including Japanese soldiers) gave work to practically everyone. In the midst of it, the Japanese conducted regular searches warning that if they found a single pistol, all would be shot. Those who were able to were pressed into service administering anti-tetanus injections. The hospital had a good supply of medicines because Friessner (of Inhelder, one of the large Swiss medical houses in Manila) donated everything his company had to the hospital. Fortunately too, water was available from an artesian well.

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