Poetry Written by
  "The Men Who Were There"




THE BATAAN DEATH MARCH
by Jesse Knowles

This story (in rhyme) was lived by Jesse Knowles and written in April, 1943,
while he was a Prisoner-of-War of the Japanese in Mukden, Manchuria.
In August, 1945, the Russian Army liberated the prison camp in
Mukden and the first Americans they saw were at the Harbor of
Darien, Manchuria, when the U.S. Navy loaded the prisoners
aboard ship for the long-awaited trip home, to the U.S.A.

" THEY "

                                        T'was the 7th of December in '41
                                        When they hit Hawaii as the day begun
                                        T'was a Sunday morning and all was calm
                                        When out of nowhere there came the bombs
                                        It didn't last long but the damage was done
                                        America was at war with the rising sun
                                       

                                        Now over in the Philippines we heard the news
                                        And it shook every man clean down to his shoes
                                        It seemed like a dream when it began
                                        But soon every soldier was a fighting man
                                        Each branch was ready to do its part
                                        Artillery, Infantry, Nichols and Clark
                                        And then they came on that Monday noon
                                        They hit Clark field like a typhoon
                                        That Monday night the moon was clear
                                        They razed Nichols from front to rear
                                        As the days went by more bombers came
                                        And soon only a few P-40's remain
                                       

                                        Then the orders came and said retreat
                                        That no man would be seen on the city streets
                                        So across the bay we moved at night
                                        Away from Manila and out of sight
                                        Deep into the jungles of Bataan
                                        Where 15,000 were to make a stand

                                        Here we fought as a soldier should
                                        As the days went by we spilled our blood
                                        Tho' the rumors came and went by night
                                        That convoy never came in sight

                                        April 7th was a fatal day
                                        When the word went around that we couldn't stay
                                        That the front line was due to fall
                                        So the troops moved back one and all
                                       

                                        The very next day the surrender came
                                        Then we were men without a name
                                        You may think here's Where the story ends
                                        But actually here's where it begins
                                        Tho' we fought and didn't see victory
                                        The story of that march will go down in history
                                       

                                        We marched along in columns of four
                                        Living and seeing the horrors of war
                                        And when a man fell along the way
                                        A cold bayonet would make him pay
                                        For those four months he fought on bataan
                                        Then they'd kill him 'cause he couldn't stand
                                       

                                        The tropic sun would sweat us dry
                                        For the pumps were few that we passed by
                                        But on we marched to a place unknown
                                        A place to rest and a place to call home
                                        Home not that you might know
                                        But home to man that suffered a blow
                                       

                                        Then to O'Donnell Camp en masse
                                        Some never back thru' those gates to pass
                                        In Nipa huts we lived like beast
                                        Bad rice and camotes were called a feast
                                       

                                        Our minds went back to days gone by
                                        When our throats were never dry
                                        Of our wives, our mothers, and friends
                                        Of our by-gone days and our many sins
                                        And about four thousand passed away
                                        And how many more no man can say
                                        For no tomb stone marks the spot
                                        Where thirty to fifty were buried in lot
                                        Piled together as a rubbish heap
                                        The remains of men who were forced to retreat
                                       

                                        Now I want to state and my words are straight
                                        And I bet you think they're true
                                        That if you gotta die it's better to try
                                        And take them with you too
                                       

                                        It's they that took us that fatal day
                                        It's they that made us pay and pay
                                        It's they that counted us morn and night
                                        It's they that again we wanted to fight
                                        It's they that made us as we are
                                        But it's not they that'll win this war
                                        For the men in khaki will come some day
                                        And take us back to the U.S.A.