would be shot. These squads quickly became known among ourselve                                          
 
as "shooting squads, and each prisoner counted himself a member
 
of his own "shooting squad".
 
             We had barely settled into the prison at Cabanatuan                                                   
 
when, on June 2nd, the first detachments of prisoners from Bataan
 
began to arrive at our camp. We were appalled at their condition,
 
and even more appalled when we learned what had happened to them
 
on what they all called "the death march from Bataan".
             
           These prisoners arrived at Cabanatuan in trucks for the
 
simple reason that only a very few among them were physically able
 
to stand up and walk a hundred yards.                                                                                         
 
         In the first truck to arrive was a young enlisted man
 
 who at one time had served as my orderly. He staggered to my
 
side and, holding himself up by feebly grasping at my shoulders,
 
 he sobbed out, "Sir, is it different here--will they treat us like
 
humans?" I tried to comfort the boy by telling him that everything
 
would be all right, and he staggered away, still sobbing.
 
        The Bataan prisoners who were joining us now, and who
 
had been prisoners a month longer than we had, were the most
 
woe-begone objects I have ever seen. They were wild-eyed, gaunt,
 
their clothes in tatters. Many had no equipment of any kind, and
 
some clutched at rusty tin cans which they used as mess kits.
 
These men had their own doctors with them--the medical detachments
 
 
from Batash--but the doctors had no medicines, and they were as sick as the men.
 
                                     - 27 -