Walk
I walk
heavy bag
on my back
and my rifle
in hand.
No one talks.
There is only
the sound of gravel
crunching beneath our feet.
Last night
I couldn’t sleep,
but today
I am wide awake
The sun is coming up.
A new day.
One that I might not survive
I walk.
Man Down
We have reached Manila.
The streets are empty.
The wind kicks dust
into the air.
My muscles tense.
Japs could be behind any corner.
Waiting.
We shuffle forward
as the shadows
become more sinister
Out of the corner of my eye
I see a body drop
It has begun
Man down
Man down
Man down
Bullets
Bullets start to fly
I hide behind a wall
As order descends
Into chaos
The Japs were prepared
For our attack
Something explodes nearby
My ears ring
I stick my gun over the wall
And fire blindly
Until my mag runs out
The hot shells
Fall to the ground
Bodies
Fall to the ground
I fall to the ground
Night has fallen
The gunfight had taken hours
We lost many men
but tonight
we are victorious.
I fall asleep
dreading the next few days.
Cycle
We make our way
To the center of Manila
Over the next few days.
Many have died
Along the way.
I don’t befriend anyone
So I can’t lose them
Ballpark
We reach a ballpark
General MacArthur orders us to storm the Japs inside
Some take cover in the seats
And try to snipe from there
While others are on the field
Hiding in the grass
Waiting to pounce on a Jap.
I am one of them.
I crawl in the grass,
Trying to get closer to the Japs
Without being seen.
I can hear explosions in the distance
I glance to the buildings in the distance
One of them explodes
And crumbles to the ground.
A Jap comes near
I am far away enough
From the main battle
That I can reveal myself
Without getting shot.
I jump out of the tall grass
And point my gun at him.
He whips around
And points his gun at me
I pull the trigger.
His body falls to the ground
Riddled with bullet holes
However, the rising sun flag of the Japanese,
Crudely stitched on his jacket
Remains intact
I had never killed before
Usually I try to injure them
So other soldiers can finish them off
I push back the guilt
And save it for later
He looks young
About the same age as me
I crawl back into the grass.
Funeral
The battle is over.
The Japs have retreated.
After resting,
Some of the soldiers
Begin to dig mass graves
For the ones who died.
I walk by one of them
And see the Jap soldier
That I killed.
Someone closed his eyes
War
War has changed me
It does that to a person.
It turns you into something
you never thought you could be
whether that be good
or bad
It gives you a different outlook on life
how valuable it is
and how it should not be taken
for granted
Author's Note:
On 8 December, 1941, the Japanese invaded the Philippines 10 hours after the attack on Pearl Harbour. The lives of many Filipinos changed for the worse. However, in late 1944, General MacArthur and his army joined with the U.S. Army to liberate the Philippines. Fighting did not stop until Japan’s formal surrender on 2 September, 1945. About one million Filipinos were killed during this period. I wanted to write my historical narrative poetry project on the Japanese occupation of the Philippines because during the Multicultural America project for Social Studies last semester, I had to interview my grandmother about her experiences during World War II. She talked about how the Japanese made frequent patrols around her village to look for anything valuable. Anyone who got in their way would be killed. While my grandmother and her family were hiding from the Japanese, her father and little sister ran out, and they were captured and executed. While I didn’t write my story like this, it inspired me to pick that time period and event.
One source that proved to be very helpful was an article, Invasion of the Philippine Islands (7 Dec 1941 - 5 May 1942) by C. Peter Chen, founder and editor of the World War II Database, on a World War II database discussing the events and strategy in the liberation of the Philippines. The site was created by C. Peter Chen, who originally created the site as a hobby, but as it grew, he became more serious about it. The characters in my story are fiction. While the events that take place are not completely accurate, they are based on what really happened during that battle.
One thing that was left out of my historical narrative poetry story was multiple perspectives. At first, I wanted the story to be told from the perspectives of a U.S. soldier and a Japanese soldier. However, I got sick, so I had less time to work on this project, and I had to scrap that idea.
The reason I wrote this historical narrative poetry story was to show that life is valuable. In the story (spoiler alert), Rodney Miller (the main character) kills a Japanese soldier that is about the same age as him. After walking by his dead body in a mass grave after the battle, he had a sudden epiphany that life shouldn’t be taken for granted.
