Desperate, Not Hopeless

A United States Army, most of it composed of half-trained Filipinos, last week fought the first great U.S. battle of World War II. The U.S. Army of the Far East was fighting desperately, skillfully and against great odds—fighting and slowly losing for reasons beyond its control.

For by slicing the islands' supply line from Pearl Harbor west, by heavy attacks on Philippine airfields, by plain wear & tear on the islands' limited aircraft equipment, Japan had won the first requisite of victory: command of the air. Overwhelming in numbers, the Jap flailed at the U.S. positions with rifle, machine gun, tank and plane, careless of his losses. Bitterly, savagely and calculatingly, the tall men from the U.S. and the short men from the island fought back. It was a battle of churning movement: swift slashes of armored cars and men in trucks, ceaseless slamming of artillery, swiftly emplaced, swiftly moved with the tide of battle.

But unless the Philippines could get help from the outside—planes, munitions, men, decisive U.S. Naval intervention—they would be lost. There was not a man in the lines who did not know it. General Douglas MacArthur had said that the islands could be held, but only if their supply was continuous and decisive. He had also often told his young officers: "Any machine-gun nest can be captured if the attacker is willing to pay the price. So can the Philippines be captured if the enemy is willing to write off the losses."

The Jap was writing off his losses. He came by thousands. During last week he may have set down as many as 200,000 troops on Luzon, thousands more on Mindanao 600 miles to the south. Some of his soldiers were veterans. Some were youngsters from 15 to 18. They were ill-clothed, lightly armed with .25-caliber rifles and submachine guns. But the lightness of their ammunition (U.S.'s lightest: .30-caliber) enabled them to carry more rounds.

The Jap came in droves, met withering fire, marched stoically up to it and took his medicine with a grunt. There were more where he came from. And as long as he was-on his feet he knocked out U.S. soldiers with his small arms. If this had not been true, there would have been no necessity for the U.S. Army's retirement to its prepared positions ringing defenseless, bomb-battered Manila (see p. 20).

Enemy's Round. The Jap had achieved command of the air by the end of the war's second week. Close to his air bases, he had poured inferior aircraft south to Luzon, and by numbers taken a toll of better U.S. planes. He had also established three Luzon beachheads, apparently with airdromes: at Legaspi, Aparri, Vigan. Then he opened the battle's second phase.

Johnny Jones & Others. One morning at dawn as last week began, 56 ships stood off Lingayen Gulf, gateway to the broad, fertile Pampanga plain leading south 120 miles between mountain ranges toward Manila. Long strategists' pick for the deadly thrust, Lingayen was heavily defended. But the Jap moved in, attempting landings on a stretch from Lingayen northward. A heavy U.S. force under Major General Jonathan M. Wainwright was waiting for him.