 The DuPont Cavalcade of America. Tonight, Edward G. Robinson stars in The Philippines Never Surrendered. The story of guerrilla warfare against the Japanese on Mindanao. On the Cavalcade of America, sponsored by the DuPont Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. Before we begin our play tonight, we want to tell you about DuPont Speed Easy wall finish. The new wall paint that you use right over wallpaper or most other interior wall surfaces. Although Speed Easy is an oil paint, you just thin it with water, then apply with a large brush or roller. In less than an hour, your walls are dry. For less than $3, you can refinish the average room. So for your home decoration, get Speed Easy. It's speedy, it's easy, and it's made by DuPont. A few weeks ago in the Saturday evening post, Edward Cooter first told his story of guerrilla warfare against the Japanese on the island of Mindanao. Tonight, that story is told for the first time on the air. The DuPont Cavalcade presents The Philippines Never Surrendered, starring Edward G. Robinson as Edward Cooter. May 5, 1942, in the shortwave monitor stations of America, in San Francisco and Seattle, up and down the West Coast. The engineers hold the tuning dials, trying to bring in the signal, trying to make it louder. Then they get it, and they hold it. Somebody is calling from the Philippines. Corrigidor calling. Corrigidor, I can't say much. They got us all around and from the skies. I can't think at all. Everyone is falling like a baby. They're piling the dead and wounded in our tunnel. My love to Pa, Joe, Sue, and Mac. Stand by, stand by. In San Francisco and Seattle, the engineers wait at the receivers. They wait. And the brute silence of the Pacific flows in. Nothing more from Corrigidor. It is as though the seas rolled over the Philippines. The Philippine islands have been drawn into the bosom of Japan. What happened there after that message died? People were alive in the Philippines? What did they do? What did they think? What happened to the people? People like me, for instance. I'm Edward Cuda, and I'm a school teacher. A 20-year superintendent of schools on the island of Mindanao. I'm a small man, not very rugged. I suppose you'd call me scholarly. And in the quiet years of my life, I often talked about the philosophical concepts of human dignity and human freedom. But that dark May Day, in 1942, there was no place or time for philosophy. There were facts. The Japs were about to occupy the town of Dan Salon, and with minutes, with less than an hour to spare, I sat in my office. Outside there was the fury of approaching battle. And opposite me, across my desk, sat a United States Army colonel. You've got to make up your mind, Mr. Cuda. The Japs will take this town in less than an hour. I know, Colonel, but maybe it's the words that bother me. Words? Yes, well, they're strange to me, sabotage, guerrilla. I'm not a soldier. I've never even fired a gun. All I'm asking you to do is to stay here and organize the people. Tell them how to resist. I'm not asking you to fight. Yes, but it seems to me that someone like you... No, my orders are to go to the mountains, establish a center for resistance. And you know the natives better than I do? Yes, I know them, and I like them. And they like you? But telling them to resist means bloodshed, killing, torture. Well, they don't want to live under the Japs all their lives, do they? I don't know. Do you want to? Well, that's a different matter. I know that someday I'll get away from this island. The Murrows have to live here. Sure. It's their home. All the more reason for them to fight. Well, it's easy for you and me to say that, Colonel. It's true. Well, it's easy for us to talk about what a man should fight for or die for, but our talk isn't enough. Listen, Colonel. Those guns are real, and the people that turned against know they're real. Look, I can't argue any longer. I have to get out of here. But I wish you'd say that you'd try. I'll try. Well, that's enough for me. I know that if anyone can get the Murrows to fight, you can. Yes, I'll try. I'll talk to them. But Colonel, don't expect miracles. Lord knows I didn't expect miracles from the Murrows or from myself. The Murrows. Those brave, wonderful people. Small, broad-chested, amundied. We call them the Irishmen of the Pacific. Great people for a story or for a fight. But resistance. After all, the Murrows were few and unarmed except for knives and a scattering of rusty rifles. When I put myself in their place, well, how much could I expect of them? And I wanted to keep my promise to the Colonel, but first I wanted a safe place to hide out. So when I walked into the jungle that day, I was looking for a man I knew I could count on, a man named Pendangaman. I sent out messages, but it was a few days before I found Pendangaman. Mr. Coda, fine thing. It takes water to bring you here again. How are you, Mr. Coda? Good to see you. Good to see you. Me good friend with Americans, Mr. Coda. I'm glad to hear it. Did you get my message, Pendangaman? Yes. Have house for hide-you. By mine, Mr. Coda. Come, come. I show you. Well, I hope it's really out of the way. Oh, job never fine. All days when Murrow be chased by American police, we fix him up there. American police cannot find. Job cannot find. Well, that sounds safe enough. Well, how has it been for you here, Pendangaman? You mean, Japs? Yes. They want no trouble. No one wore here too busy with Americans far away. So we must attack. Be quiet, man. I know quiet. We must kill them. Mr. Coda, we call Pendangaman our leader. Whether he be leader for flock of chickens. Man allowed taught big, but my people know want to fight, Japs. Oh, they haven't bothered you at all? Oh, Jap Captain, come this morning. Say, road blown up. Say, pandits blew up road last night. Me, panda, to do this, Mr. Coda. You, man-a-love? Congratulations. Then, Jap, say, Murrow people must repair road. I said no. Must repair. No repair. Jap killed everyone. Mr. Coda, tell Pendangaman, when are you supposed to repair it? Tomorrow morning. We go where many people other side of town. We no go. Tell him, Mr. Coda, you American. Well, I know the danger, and I don't want to be responsible. For the Americans come back, yes? Yes, yes, someday, but I can't promise when. The, uh, road is useful to the Japs. Now, if you repair it, you're helping them. If you decide not to repair it. But we must repair. No repair. We be killed. Yes, but if you decide not to, you have to know the risk you take and what you're taking it for. Uh, Pendangaman. Yes, Mr. Coda? Uh, you remember the American colonel, who is a Nance Allen? Yes. Well, he asked me to tell the people he has something. Tell them fight? My people know what to do. Well, I'm not so sure. Anyway, I'd like to tell them what's needed if they do want to fight. Yes, tell us, Mr. Coda. Well, I'd rather speak with as many people as possible. Uh, you repair the road in the morning? Yes. Sunrise. Well, then I'll say a few words to all the people going to repair it. Just a few words before they start. Please, uh, remember, I don't want to mislead you. Now, resistance will not be easy. It, it will mean sacrifice and struggle. It, it may mean you will have to kill. And perhaps some of you will be killed. We break people. We kick. We knock it. Well, uh, I, I'm not trying to tell you what you should do, but you must choose between resistance or possibly a lifetime of slavery under the Japanese. Now, if you decide to resist, you mustn't repair the road this morning. Resistance should begin in ways like that. Uh, uh, not working, uh, wrecking trucks, blowing up bridges. Then when the American army comes back, Where do Americans come back? Where do Americans come back? I, I don't know. We be soon. Well, I can't lie to you. I don't know. Maybe two months, maybe a year, maybe two years. For General MacArthur said he will come back. I believe that. Come. Time to fix road. No, Pandangaman. Mr. Kudder, I, no, fix road. Why, I am leader here. Pandangaman, Mr. Kudder, I know a good way not to fix road. You know a way? No kill jab. Oh, no kill jab. Listen, we go now to road. Start work. We work good. No trouble. Then after a while crawling the jungle. They went to the road to start work and I went along and crouched in the jungle with Manilao and Pandangaman beside the road. There were six jab guards who handed out picks and shovels. It was getting light. The morrow men started digging and clearing the debris from the road. They worked for two hours while the jabs sat and watched. Then Manilao crawled away from my side and disappeared into the deep jungle. And suddenly, the guards ran up and down the road trying to see into the jungle looking for the men who had fired. And when they peer-taught Pandangaman and me, I was cold with fear. But they didn't see us and they wouldn't venture into the jungle. They fired a few shots blind and then waited. In a few minutes, you will continue walking. Go to walking. The men went on working. Manilao silently returned to my side. Then after another two hours, he crawled away again. We like very much to work for Emperor, but can't no work if all time somebody shoot. Continue working. We were finding these bandits and killing them. We like to work, Captain, but we're not brave like your Japanese. I know, but you must try to be brave. We're afraid, Captain. When you kill bandits, we come back and work. Come, people. We go home. What are you thinking, Pandangaman? Trouble coming. Why? This. They make very nice for us. But Jack knows we hate them. So if we know work and if they win war, Mr. Kuda, I think they will kill us all. They're not going to win the war, Pandangaman. Maybe. Long time Americans go away. What happened to them? Maybe they don't want fight no more. You know that's not so. When they come back, Mr. Kuda, when? I don't know. I've been thinking, you know, ever since what happened at the road, I know your people do want to resist. All they need, Pandangaman, is a real leader. I know. Can't tell them to fight. Well, you ask when the Americans will come back. That depends on many things, and partly on how much trouble you make for the Japs here. It's your freedom too, Pandangaman, and I've come to this conclusion. Sabotage is not enough. It's time for the Moros to kill Japs. You, Mr. Kuda, now you sound like Manilao and my wife, Maruki. Maruki too? Well, soon every Moro must decide, no matter what you, their leader, may think that to have their own country, to be free, they have to fight. You are listening to Edward G. Robinson as Edward Kuda. In the Philippines, never surrendered. On the cavalcade of America, sponsored by the DuPont Company, maker of better things for better living, through chemistry. As we come to the second act of our play, Edward Kuda resumes his story of the building of a native underground movement on Mindanao during the Japanese occupation. After I knew the Moro people who were ready to resist the Japanese, I became a man of action, trying to bring together the threads of courage, ingenuity and strength I'd seen in the Moros, trying to fill the gap left by the weakness and the hesitations of their leader. Days passed and weeks, and then I saw that the temper of the Japs began to change. I sensed that they were getting pushed back somewhere, that the war wasn't going too well with them, because fear crept back into Japanese paces, and they began to make mistakes. How much for this? 12 pesos. Here is the money. You give me only 5 pesos. You will take 5 pesos. No, sir. 12 pesos. Don't tell me what to pay. There! You are lucky, man. You get anything. Next time, maybe you know better. What are you going to do? Do? Nothing, Mr. Kudar. You let the Japs slap your face? You, one of the Moro people? Me want to kill, but cannot. Why? If you don't, you're a man without honor. Punding up and say no killing. Yes, but if you do kill them, you will be honored and named by your grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Wait! Wait, Mr. Kudar. I go. Sir, good captain. Sir, you speak to me? Sir, I work less man. I don't want to take more than 5 pesos. Next time, you know better the Japanese. Yes, sir. Sir, you tell me please, what is Great Navy ship there in Harbour? That one? Yes. Oh, fine ship of Japanese Imperial Navy. Name? Kajik. Clean throaty throat. Your job cannot slap Moro. Even you have many guns. Pandangaman! Where are man who is killing my soldier? Don't know, where is this man? Pandangaman, 3 months ago. I am to giving order. All knives must be turned over to Japanese army. How's this man having his knife? Don't know how this man have knife. Pandangaman, tonight we are going to every house. Give the people order to reaving all knives into away of their homes. We are picking up knives tonight. Good bye. You can come out now, Mr. Kuda. He got. You're not going to let them take the people's knives, are you? What can I do? Pandangaman, don't you see they're afraid of you? The Americans must be closer than we think. Quiet. My wife coming. Say nothing about it. So, you still sit here like a woman? From you, only in some. More and more Japs kill our people. Beat steel. And you sit here like old lady with no teeth. Pandangaman, you can't let the Japs take your people's weapons tonight. Call them together. Let them decide if they want to fight. That night in the darkness around Pandangaman's house, the people sat and talked. I moved among them listening, putting in a word here and there. They all had their rifles with them. They'd come expecting to fight. And yet, the Pandangaman sat without speaking and I knew he wouldn't give the command. Then it happened. A young man came up to Pandangaman. Pandangaman, many Japanese coming up road. Coming this way. Oh, that's so good. Everyone, Japanese coming. Put down rifles, then sit. Everyone. I could feel the nervousness rising like a fog from the people. All eyes were on the road that passed Pandangaman's house. But Pandangaman was turned a little away and he seemed to be hardly breathing. We'd heard the troops approaching and then from another direction out of the jungle a man came running. Everyone turned to see. It was Manilao. Pandangaman bought the wreck on shore. Japanese soldiers swimming water. American submarines, Pandangaman. American submarines sink chop ship offshore. They come back, Pandangaman. We fight now. We fight now. Well, now what do you say, Pandangaman? Quiet, Maruti. Bah! You old woman. I go after them with my life. I will lead people. Quiet. Quiet. Mr. Kuda, go into house before they see you. All right, I'll go. You can see what your people want, Pandangaman. If you're really their leader, you have to prove it. Now is the time to act. I went into the house and watched. I saw the soldiers pass the house and vanish over the little hill road. And then I saw Pandangaman get to his feet. I knew now he felt the pulse of his people and he was ready to leave them. The thing that happens over and over in human history, it happened in Minna now. The people needing a leader had created one out of their own strength, their own fierce needs. Pandangaman stood up and the more people rose without a word and followed. Moving noiselessly, the people spread out behind him and started running. I ran out of the house behind them. They filled the jungle on both sides of the Jap column and then caught up with it. For a moment, we could only hear the sound of marching. And then... From that night on, the Japanese on Minna now died in many ways. By bullet, by stone, by knife, and by rope. The Japs had swallowed up the Philippines and the feast had killed them. My job's done here, Pandangaman. You leave us now, Mr. Kuda? Yes, I... I think I should go to the mountains and join the Colonel. The people are organized now and they have their leader. Yes. Tell Colonel we fight for him. We make way for American to come and tell him come soon. I'll tell him. And he'll thank you, and I... No, Pandangaman, you've made yourselves a great people in this war. You will not be forgotten. Well, Kuda, how's it to seem being a hero? Oh, I don't know that I am, Colonel. I told you I was no soldier. Maybe not. But you certainly started things popping down there. Well, they're fighting, yes. Poisoning Japs, sniping them, throwing them off cliffs. They're organized, Colonel, but... I still haven't fired a rifle. Don't you remember? I told you that wasn't important. Yes, the morows are fighting like people who deserve their country. You know what I mean. To me, that's a fine thing. I know. Colonel, your answer for Lakatha's headquarter, sir. Oh, what's it say? Well, General Lakatha is sending a sub. We're to meet it on the coast. Here in a full direction, sir. Good. Well, Kuda, I guess you're going home. On that black day of May 1942, they listened in Seattle and the radio was dead on Corregidor. But in February 1945, I lay in a New York hospital and, beside me, the radio was tuned to the same wave band. The voice had returned to Corregidor. To Manila and to those islands, the speech of free men had returned. And it soared like strong birds across the long Pacific, soared in the voice of General MacArthur. President Osminya, my country has kept the faith. On her behalf, I now solemnly declare the full powers and responsibilities under the Constitution restored to the Philippine Commonwealth. We come here as an army of free men, dedicated with your people to the cause of human liberty. Manila has regained her rightful place as a living and heroic symbol of democracy. The level voice of Douglas MacArthur rose out of the sea, and the silence of the sea was rolled away. And I knew then what I had stayed behind to prove. The Philippines never surrendered. Our thanks to you, Edward G. Robinson and to all members of tonight's Stupont Cavalcade cast. Here is Game Whitman. As each day brings us nearer to the end of war in Europe, we turn our thoughts westward. Westward to Japan, and currently to San Francisco, where at the United Nations Conference, men of good will are striving that world war may never come again. Lamont DuPont, chairman of the board of the DuPont Company, recently said about the San Francisco Conference, as an official of an American net company which, like the great majority of American industry, has in two world wars been forced by events to turn its peacetime production to making the materials of war. I should like to say of the United Nations Conference on World Organization in San Francisco, that I hope with all my heart that the nations which are winning this conflict will be successful in perfecting a workable way to secure the future peace. Obviously, we cannot waive a full functioning world organization into being at the point of a magician's wand and guarantee by that act that there will never be war again. It is a harder task than that, for I can appreciate that it will be difficult to agree upon the best method of preserving the peace. By that token, it must be undertaken immediately and cooperatively, and I hope the United Nations will find it in themselves to reach a constructive agreement and exert the long-term, ceaseless effort necessary to make the machinery effective in the amicable settlement of international questions. It takes only one nation to make a war. It takes many nations working together to make peace in the world. I take pride in the part our company has played in World War I and World War II in helping provide the physical weapons to enable ourselves and our allies to defeat those nations that have twice in one generation made war on the civilized world. But in each case, it was a contribution to the national welfare inspired by a sense of responsibility and not one that we would have sought for business reasons. We have wanted, and we want now, a world at peace. This is not a new attitude on the part of the DuPont Company. Time after time, during the Civil War, on the occasion of the Disarmament Conference in 1921 and on various other occasions, responsible officers of this company have made it clear that not only the strong natural sympathies of its management but also the plain business interests of the company lie overwhelmingly in the direction of the continued maintenance of world peace. We prefer both for selfish and humanitarian reasons to do the economic work of an industrial company and the world of peace and not the uneconomic work of a world at war. This is our desire, too, for the future. That is why my hope for the successful outcome of the meeting is deep and strong. No organization that comes from the deliberations at San Francisco will mean that the United States or our allies can automatically cease to rely on their own resources to protect their ultimate security. But I believe it has been demonstrated that no nation can of itself be secure and that the peacetime association politically, economically and scientifically of the nations now cooperating to win this war offers the best chance that we shall not have to do it all over again in another quarter of a century. I hope the United Nations Conference will succeed so that the fullest resources and genius of American private enterprise can be turned soon and from then on to producing for peace and to creating the post-war jobs that all of us so urgently want. These words of Lamar Dupont express the hope of all of us in the Dupont Company whose peacetime work provides you with better things for better living through chemistry. Next week, the Dupont Cavalcade will bring you the story of an attractive young illustrator who suddenly found a way to use her talent as an artist in a personal crisis brought on by the war. Our play is called Artists to the Wounded and our star will be the charming screen actress Geraldine Fitzgerald. Edward G. Robinson may be seen currently in the International Production Woman in the Window. The music for tonight's Dupont Cavalcade was composed and conducted by Robert Armbruster. Our Cavalcade play was written by Arthur Miller and was based on a Saturday evening post-series by Edward Cooter and Pete Martin. This is Frank Graham inviting you to listen next week to Artists to the Wounded, starring Geraldine Fitzgerald on the Cavalcade of America, brought to you by the Dupont Company of Wilmington, Delaware.