D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
March 2010
A Walk to Remember
This month's Bataan Memorial Death March commemorates a World War II ordeal in which New Mexicans carried an especially heavy burden.
By Nancy Gordon
"We never surrendered. We never quit. We were ordered to, and when you're in the military, you follow orders," said Tony Reyna of Taos Pueblo. Reyna, a survivor of the infamous Bataan Death March, was among those honored at last year's memorial march held at White Sands Missile Range.
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The Bataan Memorial Death March is held annually to commemorate a part of history that is often forgotten — the defense of the Philippines during World War II. Last year marked the 20th anniversary of the Memorial March. It drew more than 5,300 marchers — a record number — representing all 50 states and eight foreign countries. This year's Memorial March will be held at White Sands Missile Range on March 21.
The Memorial March is mainly a military event, although last year more than half of the entrants were civilians. Marchers can tackle either a 26.2-mile, marathon-length course and compete for awards as individuals or on teams, or an honorary (non-competitive) march of 15.2 miles. Divisions are separated by gender, age, military or civilian, and "light" or "heavy." Those in the "heavy" division must carry a minimum of 35 pounds, and military divisions require regulation uniforms, boots and gear.
Partly out of curiosity and as a personal challenge, I entered last year's march in the civilian-light category. Since I'd never walked 26.2 miles before, I asked for help from an experienced marathon walker in Silver City, Benette Elder (who goes by "B"). For B, walking is a passion. She's raised thousands of dollars in walks for breast cancer and leukemia research, and walked in the Bataan Memorial March twice before — winning in the women's civilian-light, age 70-plus division in 2008.
"Get wicking clothing and wicking socks," B advised me. "And one of those hats with a flap in the back. We'll need to start training early. Walk to Bayard, walk to Pinos Altos. If you can't do that, you'll never make it. And stretch. We'll have to stretch a LOT."
To prepare for our marathon at the end of March, we started training in January, using the training schedule posted on the Memorial March website as a guide. We walked on forest trails, running tracks and highways, and by the end of March, we'd done several 15-20 milers.
I kidded B about being my drill sergeant. Whenever we ran into anyone on our walks, she'd nod towards me and say, "I'm training her up for the Bataan."
During our training walks, I tested different combinations of shoes and socks, layered clothing, and types of day packs. I also stocked up on Shot Bloks electrolyte chews and Gu Energy Gel to keep hydrated and to reduce muscle cramping.
But a week before the Bataan march, I found myself in the office of Dr. Gough, our local foot doctor. I'd developed a "neuroma" (nerve inflammation) under a left toe, which was uncomfortable but not too serious. The good doctor told me to use cross-training insoles in my walking sneakers and to do more stretching exercises for my calf muscles. I also padded my feet with moleskin and added short nylon stockings as liners under my (wicking!) hiking socks.
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OK, we were ready. I looked over the recommendations from the Memorial March website again as a final check: Sunscreen and sunglasses. Hat. Windbreaker and bandana. Ankle-high gaiters to keep sand out of my shoes, and shoes with at least 100 miles on them. Check. Energy foods, electrolytes, two refillable water bottles. Check. No alcohol for 48 hours before the march, no caffeine for 24 hours before. OK. Drink lots of water the day before and during the march and eat a carbohydrate-loaded dinner the evening before. Got it.
We went out to the White Sands Missile Range a day early to check in and to attend some of the Memorial March events. Registration was carried out with military-style precision. We went from one table to the next to get checked in on a computer, and to pick up our information packets, numbered bibs and timing chips, memorial T-shirts, and certificates of participation that were printed on the spot.
The rest of the day on Saturday we had time to visit the missile park and museum, shop at the PX, attend a history seminar, listen to talks by Bataan survivors, and then carbo-load with the $10 all-you-can-eat pasta dinner served up on the base.
"Don't eat salad, it can make you sick," B warned me, as we piled our plates with spaghetti and garlic breadsticks. "See those guys eating salad? They're amateurs."
After dinner, we headed back to our lodging in Las Cruces, with a detour to the Bataan Memorial Monument on Roadrunner Parkway. Leading up to the larger-than-life statue of two soldiers carrying a third were the footprints of 40 Bataan soldiers, some made by Bataan veterans who walked in the wet concrete, others by rubber castings made from veterans' feet or by their descendants wearing period boots. The number of prints leading towards the statue declined, to represent the thousands who died on the march.
I walked beside those prints, thinking of what those soldiers had to endure. Words echoed in my mind from an impassioned speech given earlier in the day by Margaret Garcia, daughter of Bataan survivor Evans Ramirez Garcia: "Compared to their challenges, our burdens are light. Our burdens are LIGHT!"
When war happens, lives are changed in an instant, swept into the maelstrom. For the people of the Philippines and the American servicemen and women stationed there in December 1941, that moment came only hours after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. Clark Field, an American air base north of Manila, was destroyed; Nichols Field and Cavite Navy Yard were lost soon afterwards.
In the battles that followed, the Philippine and American (Fil-American) troops were withdrawn to the Bataan peninsula, and to Corregidor and other islands guarding the mouth of Manila Bay. This was a delaying action, designed to hold off the enemy until American reinforcements arrived. But none did.
We're the battling bastards of Bataan;
No mama, no papa, no Uncle Sam;
No aunts, no uncles, no cousins, no nieces;
No pills, no planes, no artillery pieces.
And nobody gives a damn.
— Frank Hewlett
Facing a combat-tested Japanese army with strong naval and air support, the "Battling Bastards of Bataan" fought valiantly with what little they had: outdated World War I weapons, a handful of planes and watercraft, meager rations and dwindling medical supplies. And they fought in spite of what they had: malnutrition, tropical sores, malaria and dysentery. The Bataan defenders stubbornly hung on, defending each position and then falling back, destroying bridges as they went. The Japanese commander was humiliated when he had to ask for additional troops and bigger guns to subdue them.
Finally, on April 9, 1942, with the sick and starving Fil-American troops backed into the last corner on Bataan, Maj. Gen. Edward King surrendered them to prevent a massacre. Some soldiers would have preferred to keep fighting to the end, to make a last stand like at The Alamo. But the choice had been made.
Defenders of Corregidor, the island fortress in Manila Bay, held out for about another month. Japan's timetable had allowed only 50 days to take the Philippines, but because of the fierce resistance, 50 days turned into five months. The delay threw a monkey wrench into Japan's conquest of the Southwest Pacific and was a key to saving Australia from invasion.