 Words at war. It was at four o'clock on the afternoon of April 8th, 1942, that General Wainwright called me to his headquarters in the tunnel of Korehitor. Eh? Oh, oh yes, yes, Colonel Romano, I sent for you. He was sitting at the table. He wore no tie, and his collar was open. It was hot, hot and humid. Yet General Wainwright's haggard face looked as cold as stone. He pushed back a pile of reports and stood up. Romano, once before, when you had a chance to leave, I asked you to stay on here. Now I'm ordering you to leave Korehitor. What do you mean? I beg pardon, General Wainwright, sir, but if I may ask... Why? General MacArthur wants you with him in Australia. There's no further point to your remaining here. The tan, the tan is hopeless, Colonel. Hopeless. By the utter lack of expression on his face, I knew he was a man who had gone beyond the motion. I knew that he wept for his boys on the tan. I started to say something about not wanting to go, but he put his hand up to silence me. At seven tonight, take the little lunch to the tan, go to the airfield. And there you will take off to Mindanao, where you will report to General Roxas and... where you will report to General Roxas and General Sharpe. Here are your secret orders. And official. I feel dashed. I couldn't find anything to say, but... Goodbye, sir. Wait, Colonel. Colonel Romelu, when you get to Australia, tell President Kizan and General MacArthur I'll do my best to the end. I will, sir. Goodbye. Goodbye, Colonel. God bless you. Words at War. The national broadcasting company in cooperation with the Council on Books in War Time brings you another radio adaptation of an important war book, Mother America by Colonel Carlos Piramelo. Tonight's dramatization is presented in honor of Bill of Rights Week. Colonel Carlos Piramelo, the Filipino editor who became aid to General Douglas MacArthur during the outbreak of the war in the Pacific, was the last man to leave baton. On that day that shall live in infamy that Sunday morning of December 7th, 1941, when jet planes roared over Pearl Harbor, a new era in the relations between the East and the West began, even as the first bombs fell. The lives of hundreds of millions were changed, as surely as those bombs burst. The lives of John Doe, the white man of Huantau, the Filipino of John Chung, the common man of the Orient. Her reactions varied. John Doe, the white man rose in righteous wrath. Try those sneaking devils. We'll wipe them off the map. Talk in peace at the very minute they were bombing Pearl Harbor. John Chung in Burma, the Mele Peninsula, Thailand, the Indies, John Chung shrugged his shoulders as the invaders stormed his homeland. Does it really make so much difference? I have never had anything. If I have nothing on the invader, what will I have alone? But Huantau, the Filipino, had very definite opinions. I will fight. I will fight to the very end. I will fight by the side of the Americans, under the American flag. I will not surrender. And Huantau, the Filipino, did fight at Luzon, Baton, and Correjidor. He fought when the odds were hopeless. He fought and starved through a living hell. He fought and prayed for help to come. He fought on when he knew there would be no help. The jet plane swooped low and dropped leaflets, promising safe conduct through the lines and back to his home if Huantau would lay down his arms and quit. Why die for the white man, the jet leaflet said? Come over to us, your fellow Orientals. But Huantau ripped the leaflets to shreds. Nor did his daily ration of rat and mule and fought unto the death by the side of the white man, by the side of the Americans, under the American flag. And why? Why did Huantau, the Filipino, alone of millions of Orientals who faced the Jap invasion, choose to fight and die? The answer is simple. Huantau, common man of the Philippines, had something to fight and die for. John, John, common man of the Orient, had questions for this Huantau, the Filipino who fought so fiercely. You tell me, Huantau, is it true that you Filipinos, fellow Orientals like ourselves, have a right to govern yourselves under quite government? See, that is so. Is it true, too, that you have a right to vote in the Philippines? Has it actually happened that in your country white men have been punished, some even by death for crimes against the natives? See, it is true. You are paid fair wages like white men and you own a food raise on your own land. You can send your children to public school and even colleges built by Americans? Well, of course. Also, I have heard you may attend the social affairs given by Americans. Visit you in your home and you and his as your friends. That, of course, is absurd. No, it's not absurd. That is true. Oh, it's difficult to believe. But one another thing, it's said also that if you do not like some point in American law, you can send objection all the way to America and will be listened to with respect. Oh, could this be possible? It is possible, John Chung. That is the way things are with us in the Philippines. Oh, I see, I see. Oh, no, no wonder then, one how you fight so fiercely. I would fight for such things. But we have even more, John Chung. We Filipinos have the promise of freedom, complete independence, not just a vague promise for some time in the future. No. A date has been set for it. See, you are right. I have something worth fighting for, John Chung. Yes, on December 9, 1941, when Jap planes roared down on Manila, Huantao, the common man, made his decision. He fought for America, mother America. He had something to fight for. But it wasn't always like that. Was it Huantao? No, it was not always like that. Even 50 years ago it was not like that. Then the Filipinos were sorbs to the rich Spanish landlords. You own no land at all, Huantao? No. Under the system I would be employed to farm a certain piece of land. The landlord would advance me a sum of money for seed and farming tools. This I was to repay out of the rice I produced. Wasn't it generous of the landlord to advance you money? No. Because crops were uncertain, it became impossible to repay the loan. It would grow from year to year. And children would be born and grow up saddled with a debt perhaps a hundred years old. But couldn't the young people see that this was unfair? How would they see that? The young people would go to school and learn that such things were unfair. No. There were no schools for Filipinos. Learning was considered to be a dangerous thing for natives. The Filipinos had no advantages? Very few. There was no justice worthy of the name. Man would be accused and tried in secret. Then they would just vanish. No one knew where. And in the end, Juan Tao? In the end? Naturally, we revolted. Yes, in the end, Juan Tao revolted against exploitation, greed, and the utter poverty that had been his lot. What is fight for freedom was interrupted by the Spanish-American war. And out of this war came America to take over the Philippines. Was that better, Juan Tao? We did not think it was better. Not at first. We resented America as violently as we had resented Spain. Why? We had little reason to think well of the white man in the Orient. Besides, we had built a framework in our own minds for our own democracy. We resented what we believed to be America's opposition to our freedom. What did you do? We fought the Americans in guerrilla warfare. We hated them as foreign devils. Even the children scowled at American soldiers and refused to speak to them. America called our resistance insurrection. We prefer to call it our second revolution. Where are your leaders hiding? Speak up! Answer me! I give you this one last chance. All right, give them the water cure, perhaps you'll talk then. Take them away. All right, you next. Where is your ammunition hidden? I do not know. You do know? Perhaps you'd like the rope cure? I do not know where the ammunition is hidden. Very well, perhaps you will be able to remember. Take them away. The rope cure and the water cure, tortures out of the dark ages. It must have impeded you, Juan Tao. Not anymore than we were already. We were not surprised. This, we said to each other, is what one must expect from the white man. But then... Then the strange thing happened. What strange thing happened, Juan Tao? From Washington DC, the capital of America came forward as for an investigation. Officers of the army were tried. Some find, some dismissed from the army. Some sent to prison. But that was only right, Juan Tao. See, right. But we had not been accustomed to right and justice. We could not believe it. That the nation that we had been fighting as a tyrant should take such pains to uncover and punish tyranny by its own soldiers. Such things deeply impressed Juan Tao, common man of the Philippines. He could not cast aside all his prejudices overnight. But slowly American military leaders began to win his confidence. And one of the first to win wholehearted trust from Juan Tao was General Arthur MacArthur, the father of General Douglas MacArthur, hero of Batan and Correjidor. The elder MacArthur granted amnesty to all who would lay down their arms. He established the writ of habeas corpus, foundation of the Bill of Rights. A daring act in a country still at war. And when the guerrilla leader Emilio Aguinaldo was captured, General Arthur MacArthur met him with the respect one military leader tenders another. And the result was Aguinaldo's proclamation. The Philippines have declared unmistakably for peace. By acknowledging and accepting the sovereignty of the United States throughout the entire archipelago, as I do now without any reservations whatsoever, I believe that I am serving my beloved country. But what of the people? What of the common man, Juan Tao? I could not quit so easily. It is true that our armed resistance against America had come to an end. But I had fought too long and too bitterly to yield in spirit. I was impressed with some things America had done, but still I was not altogether convinced of her friendly intentions. In my own mind and heart. In my own way, I continued my fight for freedom. But as time went by, all the strange things occurred. What kind of strange things were these, Juan Tao? Well, when in injustice, we took the matter to the American authorities. It was an astonishing thing we were listened to with respect. Slowly, the Americans were winning the confidence of Juan Tao. There was the case of an American who charged outrageous interest. He was arrested by Filipino police, tried before a Filipino judge, convicted and imprisoned in a Filipino jail with Filipino guards. There were a few lawyers who took advantage of their Filipino clients. They were caught at it and disbarred, just as they would have been at home in the United States. The great soldier, General Arthur MacArthur, appeared before a Senate committee to testify on behalf of the Filipinos. Such consideration of subject peoples had never been shown in the entire history of colonization. All this was not lost upon John Chung, Juan Tao's fellow Oriental. Is it true, Juan Tao, that roads have been built by Americans for your use? Yes, it is so. I have heard, too, that there are schools for children. Yes. And systems of sanitation have been installed and harbors built? See, there have been many improvements. Oh, so then you are now content, Juan Tao? No, I am not content. Oh, no, so what more do you ask? I ask for what I shall always ask, John Chung. I shall always ask for independence. Yes, Juan Tao clung to his dream of freedom, although he was the first to admit that life had become better for him since the coming of the Americans. Not only roads and primary schools, but high schools. And even universities were now open to the child of Juan Tao, the common man. Hospitals were built, and disease which had ravaged the people vanished in proportion. And gradually more and more political advantages were placed in Filipino hands. In 1907, elections were held for the assembly. The first Philippine legislature met. 100,000 votes had been cast by Filipinos. But equally important were the little things that contributed to mutual understanding and respect. See, the little things were important to us. For instance, a national holiday was set aside by the Americans in honor of the great Filipino hero, Risal, who had been executed as a rebel under the Spanish rule. That impressed you, didn't it, Juan Tao? See, he did. For Risal was dear to all of us. He had been ordered shot by the Spaniards and forced to stand with his back to the firing squad so that he would be shot in the back. But at the very last instant, he whirled and faced the rifles, died facing them. He made a victory out of death. See, Risal was important to us. And the other little things, Juan Tao? Some were so small, you would think them of no consequence. But here is another. The American Governor-General, Henry L. Stimson, see, now the Secretary of War, gave orders that for all receptions given at the Governor's Palace, the invitations were to be divided equally between Filipinos and Americans. A small thing, surely? See, and then Governor Stimson ordered that all official balls at the palace should open with the Philippine Dance Brigadon de Honor. And the Governor and his wife themselves learned the dance so that they might take part. Pleasant thing, but what did it mean to you, Juan Tao? You, the common man. It meant much, this little thing and all the others. They meant much to all Filipinos. We were not being despised as an inferior race. We were being accepted as equals and partners. We were being given dignity. And to us, and to all our fellow Orientals, there is nothing more important. Yes, that was the important thing. In the beginning America groped in the Philippines, groped and stumbled and made mistakes. But for all the groping and stumbling America never forgot that paramount element, the dignity of the human soul. But Juan Tao wanted more. He wanted his independence. Freedom was a dream he would never put aside. He had fought Spain for freedom than America. Now under benevolent American rule, he began his third fight for freedom. And fairly enough, Juan Tao's leaders were men who had been schooled in America. Filipinos who had studied in American universities and had come home again to base the Philippine claim of independence on the very principle of democracy they had learned in America. Two Filipino leaders emerged who were to carry the fight for independence on to final victory. One, Sergio Osmena laid the foundation for independence at home in the Philippines. The other carried the fight into Washington, the capital of America. He was Manuel El Quezon, later to become president of the Philippines. He is the acknowledged leader of the Filipino people. He stands today as the symbol of Philippine redemption. But still, there was a long fight ahead. American sentiment generally was with us. But there were some Americans with investments in the Philippines who said... The government ought to protect our interests out here. Other countries, take care of their businessmen in the colonies. But to the eternal credit of America, the government was not concerned with protecting business interests in the Philippines. The American businessman was on his own. And then there were others who opposed us, but sincerely... I am all for giving the Filipinos their independence. But let's face the facts. They're not ready for it. They're better off the way they are now. We could never believe that. The burning love of freedom was too strong within us. We had come to respect and to love America, but freedom, that was our goal. In 1916, the Jones Act was passed by Congress, putting legislative power entirely in Filipino hands, and carrying with it for the first time a promise of freedom, backed by the authority of the United States Congress. But our efforts were not rewarded. Each year, the municipal councils in the Philippines passed resolutions calling for independence. Manuel Quezon presented these demands to the American people. He established a press bureau in Washington to tell the truth about the Philippines. He even published a magazine called The Filipino People. All these efforts, led by Manuel El Quezon, at last made the dream of all Filipinos come true. A scratch of a pen in the hands of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt one day in 1935, putting his signature to the Tidings-McDoffey Act, ended the long struggle. Philippine independence was definitely promised for the year 1946. Juan Tao had won his fight for freedom. It had taken just 42 years. 42 years for a people who had nothing to start with but a burning love of freedom to achieve that freedom. Juan Tao, the common man of the Philippines, just 42 years ago, lived in poverty. His children were ill-fed, were denied the advantages of education. His towns and cities were disease-ridden and yet hopeless as his lot seemed to be, he did not abandon his dream of freedom and he found a sympathetic and a sincere friend in Mother America. 42 years. In 42 years, Mother America led the Filipino nation to the point where it was ready to fight to death in defense of democracy. Just 42 years. Something for us to remember when we are tempted to say of other subject peoples, they are not yet prepared. How are they to be prepared? How are the hundreds of millions of the East and West to come to an understanding? Well, let's go back to the common men, John Chong of the Orient, Juan Tao of the Philippines, John Doe, the white man. You first, John Chong. I find it hard to understand John Doe, the white man. He comes to the Orient, he seems to do no work, he's facing no taxes, he seems to drink exceedingly, he lives in places to which I am a denied admission and yet he grows rich, rich, very rich in a land where I must work all day, work all day, seven days a week in rain and sunshine to earn $2 a week. And now you, John Doe. Trouble with John Chong is he's not progressive, he's not a go-getter, no push to him. Does he really want freedom? Isn't he better off with me looking after him? What if John Chong were given self-government? He'd probably be more wretched and miserable than he is right now. And now what do you say, Juan Tao, common man of the Philippines? I have something to say to both. For I know both John Chong, the Orient, and John Doe, the white man. Let me talk first to John Doe. John Doe, you must come to understand John Chong better. You consider him evasive and given to subterfuge. He is not that way with his own people. He has no reason to mistrust them as he has you. John Chong is not mysterious as you seem to believe, John Doe. His simple precepts of behavior are centuries old. You are annoyed because he is not a go-getter. John Chong believes haste to be an indignity. He does not race against time because he knows that time will beat him in the end. The constant hurray-chop-chop of the white man is an affront to him. So too is your superior attitude, your way of talking down to him and affront to the soul of John Chong. These are the kind of things that have turned John Chong against you, John Doe. And what do you say to John Chong, Juan Tao of the Philippines? Just this. Keep your dream of freedom. We kept ours, and in just 42 years, we who had nothing to begin with made that dream come true with the guidance of Mother America. Make our pattern your pattern, John Chong. Yes, that is the pattern that holds the only hope of peace and progress in the Pacific. The pattern of democracy that brought independence to the Philippines. This pattern will be one for the world to work by if peace is to be achieved throughout the world. The essence of our world's struggle is that all men shall be free. The Atlantic Charter laid down the premise of that world freedom, binding its signatories to respect the rights of all people to choose the form of government under which they will live. The merits of this principle were proven by America in the Philippines. Through that example, we know that educational advantages, fair dealing, goodwill and the infiltration of the principles of democracy will end war. We have seen millions die and countries deformed in this war. We have learned that there are no economic or spiritual waste so great as those made by war. We know or we should know by now that to create peace we must devote to it the same energy and enthusiasm and industry we have shown in our preparations for war. This war to be justifiable must mean freedom for John Chong as well as John Doe. Freedom for John Chong to believe in his own gods, to tend his own bit of land, to believe in the genius of his people in lifting their heads above the dust. It is John Chong and John Doe who are fighting. It is for them that this war must be won. You have heard another program in the series Words at War. Tonight passages from Mother America by Colonel Carlos Piramilo, distinguished Filipino editor and personal aide to General MacArthur. The radio adaptation of Mother America was by Gerald Holland. The cast included Roger DeCoven as Colonel Carlos Ramilo, Jackson Beck, Alan Devitt, Julian Noah, Joe DeSantis and Bernard Lenro. The original music was by William H. Meader. The production was directed by Frank Pat. Next week, Words at War will bring you an adaptation of logbook by Frank Laskier, a vivid story of the British merchant marine. Words at War is brought to you in cooperation with the Council on Books in Wartime by the National Broadcasting Company and its affiliated independent stations. This broadcast of Mother America has been given in the spirit of Bill of Rights Week, now being celebrated by the New York Journal American and other newspapers throughout the country. This is the National Broadcasting Company.