Mr. BECKWORTH. I do not have in mind any particular person. I really have no preference. I do not know any of them, personally. Mr. McGowan. May I suggest, Mr. Beckworth, Mrs. Foley has a rather interesting case.

Mr. BECKWORTH. If it would be agreeable to the chairman.

The CHAIRMAN. Mrs. Foley comes from New York City?

STATEMENT OF MRS. WALTER B. FOLEY, NEW YORK, N. Y. Mrs. FOLEY. Yes.

The CHAIRMAN. Are you speaking for yourself or an organization? Mrs. FOLEY. For myself.

The CHAIRMAN. We will listen to Mrs. Foley. Your residence is Hotel Irving, 26 Gramercy Park, New York?

Mrs. FOLEY. Yes, sir."

My name is Mrs. Walter Brooks Foley, an American citizen, of New York City. In January 14, 1942, my husband, daughter, and I were made prisoners and interned by the Imperial Japanese Army at Santo Tomas prison camp in Manila, Philippine Islands. We were held prisoners for 37 months. We left our home of over 6 years with a suitcase apiece and some bedding. We were never to return.

My husband had been the pastor of the Union Church of Manila (the American Church) for over 6 years. We had had a happy time in our work and a lovely and gracious life in our most comfortable home. At the age of 45 years, my husband felt that, as happy and interesting as the past had been, the best years were ahead.

My daughter was 17 years old a few days before our internment. We had to spend the entire day of her birthday destroying letters, papers, and so forth, so that they might not come into the hands of the Japanese. While we were doing this, different groups of Japanese were constantly knocking at our doors. We had nine visits from one group or another between the time they came into the city on January 2, and the time of our internment on January 14.

We were in good health when we entered the camp. In fact, my husband never had a sick day in our over 20 years of married life.

We had a minimum of supplies and very little money as we entered the camp. The first few weeks of internment, we were able to keep contact with our servants, but after about 6 weeks, the religious committee of the Imperial Japanese Army took over our church and our home. They used the church for offices, and as nearly as I can find out, my husband's office in our home as headquarters for the chairman of the committee. At this time, our servants were ordered to leave the grounds, so from that time on we were unable to contact them. In fact, we have not been able to do so up to this date.

Later, the church was used as a munitions factory and dump. In the battle of Manila, when our forces were returning, a switch was pulled by the Japanese who had mined the church, blowing up the church and the city for blocks around. The church was destroyed and our home burned to the ground. After liberation, one of the First Cavalry boys took my daughter to see the condition of the house and church. They passed by twice without being able to locate the buildings. Finally, they went two blocks to the bay front, got their bearings, and returned to find only a bit of a cement wall standing, and an open safe in a shell hole.

In the camp, during our days of imprisonment, by husband acted as head of the religious committee, taught sociology in the college courses, gave lectures, preached, was head of the human relations section of the "law and order" department, monitor of the main building of over 1,500 people, not to mention his work of a pastoral nature, which meant more and more as the nerves of the people got on the raw.

He worked indefatigably, and with indomitable courage, even when he became weak from loss of weight and hunger, so weak that he could climb the stairs only once a day to go to bed in his dormitory room which he shared with 50 others, with a space between them of 18 inches. He weighed less than a hundred pounds at liberation, having weighed 154 pounds when he entered the camp.

My daughter, entering the camp at 17, had to spend those loveliest years of a girl's life between 17 and 20 in that horrible place. She finished her third and fourth years of high school work and took a year of college work during internment. Together with her school work and family duties, she carried her full camp duties. To each one of us were assigned regular camp duties, for the internees had to do all the work of the camp.

My daughter worked in the children's clinic for almost the entire period of her internment. She also acted as secretary to her father for the religious committee activities. Because she was over 16, she could not receive special food as the younger children did. This was made possible to the younger children by the older people having less. We supplemented our rice from the general kitchen with cana roots, banana roots, snails, and in fact, every edible thing we could find. Every day we picked, blade by blade, a basket of grass, boiled it and drank the water, in order to get a small amount of minerals. my daughter's weight was 80 pounds at liberation.

As mother of the family, I tried to keep soul and body together by cooking, constant mending, and so forth. We were told to bring clothes and food for 3 days, so you can just imagine our rags after 3 years.

I also had my camp duties, such as cleaning vegetables for the general kitchen, bathroom duty, we had no antiseptics, room cleaning, library, church and Sunday school work, together with my responsibility as a pastor's wife. My weight was 103 pounds at liberation, having been 158 when I entered the camp.

Only one thought by this time was uppermost in everyone's mindsurvival. There never was a doubt in anyone's mind concerning the return of our forces, but whether we could last out or not was another

matter.

There are no words to describe our liberation. It was a day never to be forgotten, but it was so soon to be followed by tragedy.

Almost immediately, the Japanese began to shell us. On Wednesday afternoon, February 7, 1915, at 5:30 o'clock, my husband, daughter and I, along with other friends went into my room on the first floor to get my daughter's and my bedding so that we might sleep outside of the building.

Earlier in the afternoon, the camp had been heavily shelled, but those guns had been silenced. My room was a shambles. At 5:30 we were shelled again. A shell burst in my room. My husband, standing beside me, on my left, was taken instantly. There were six persons

in my room killed by that one explosion. The mother of one of our witnesses was standing at my right, Bernard Brooks' mother.

When I came to, which I find I did almost immediately, I found myself blown completely under the bed in back of where I had been standing. I saw that my left arm was almost completely severed from my body and that I was bleeding terribly. I did not know until later that I had other deep gashes and that I had almost lost my left leg. I managed to turn myself around a bit, constantly calling my husband, and saw him there on the floor beside me. I did not know until 10 o'clock that night that he was gone.

I heard voices and called out, for I knew no one could find me under that bed, in between trunks. A litter came, taking me to the emergency operating room in the store room where I was laid on packing boxes while the amputation took place.

My daughter, who had providentially just left the room with her bedding before the shelling, found me in the operating room. She sat on the floor by the wall, for the shelling was still going on, opposite the door of the operating room, watching the amputation of my arm, knowing that her father was gone, and that there was slight chance of her mother living. The undergirding of her life had been wiped out in a half-hour's time. She was given no assurance for 3 weeks

that I could live.

I was moved from one hospital to another, although unaware of the changes, myself. For over 2 weeks, I was practically unconscious, and even now, I have very little memory of what happened during those days.

Through all this time, we were being shelled.

Finally, we were taken to Quezon Institute, just outside of Manila. The next night we were shelled there. The next wing to mine was hit, and the only thing that saved us was that the shell was a dud.

After 3 weeks, I was moved back to the field hospital at Santo Tomas where I stayed until the middle of April, until I was strong enough to travel, and arrangements could be made for me to travel by hospital ship.

I left Manila on April 9, in the first convoy of ships to leave Manila Harbor. We zigzagged through the Marianas, Gilbert, and Marshall Islands, finally, after 5 weeks arriving at Pearl Harbor and San Francisco. Our destroyer escort sank a Japanese submarine that was laying for us just outside of Eniwetok in the Marshalls.

I was taken from the ship to the Marine Hospital in San Francisco. Every doctor, who had cared for me after the amputation, had told me I would have to have another operation, for they had not had proper instruments, and there was a piece of bone protruding, which would have to be taken off. Then, too, I had bled so much, that whatever was done had to be done quickly. They could not give me a total anesthetic for this reason. I was quite conscious through the amputation.

After 3 weeks in the Marine Hospital in San Francisco, I was transferred to the Marine Hospital in New York; I was injured on February 7, and the doctor removed the last dressing from my arm on July 29. I had had to have it dressed every 3 or 4 days during that whole period.

The doctor told me at the time he removed the final dressing, that I must have another operation, just as had every other doctor before him. He said, however, that if he performed it at that time, it would take as long again to heal. I agreed to have it done the next February.

In the meantime, I had to find work in order to take care of my daughter and myself. I wanted her to go to college, and to carry out our plans for her just as far as possible.

By October 1, 1945, I felt I could wait no longer, and against the doctor's advice, took full time work, which I have carried on ever since.

In February 1946, I had the second operation. For the entire year intervening, my arm had been exceedingly painful, often causing me to break out in a dripping perspiration. I often wondered how long I could continue my work, although there was no choice in the

matter.

The doctor removed the bone and, in his words, "a surprising amount of metal.'

I have been relieved, but it never even yet lets me forget it for a moment. I am still under the doctor's care, and that means doctor's bills.

We, my daughter and I, have been forced to begin our lives anew, and with a dreadful handicap.

No amount of money can compensate for the loss of one's dear ones, and it is a sacrilege to mention the two in the same breath.

It seems only just, that a nation, meaning the Japanese Nation, which has brought about such useless and needless loss of life and suffering, and such utter vandalism, should have to repay in some measure our material losses, so that we may not be a burden on our families and friends, and may in some measure rebuild our lives.

The CHAIRMAN. Mrs. Foley, were there other Americans with you that had similar experiences at the time and places you have mentioned?

Mrs. FOLEY. There were six who lost their lives in my room that night, with the bursting of the one shell. There were 25 in that one shelling.

The CHAIRMAN. How many were in the concentration camp?
Mrs. FOLEY. The last year, 3,800, in Santo Tomas prison.

The CHAIRMAN. Were they all civilians?

Mrs. FOLEY. Not all civilians, no. There were some Army people there, I believe who had some military connection.

The CHAIRMAN. I extend you the privilege of extending your remarks if you wish to, for the purposes of the record.

Mrs. FOLEY. Thank you.

The CHAIRMAN. If there would be anything additional that you would want to put in the record, we will see that it is made a part of your original statement.

Mrs. FOLEY. Thank you.

The CHAIRMAN. We thank you, Mrs. Foley, for your statement.
Are there any questions, gentlemen?

(No response.)

The CHAIRMAN. Thank you.

The CHAIRMAN. The next witness will be Sister Trinita, Maryknoll, N. Y.

STATEMENT OF SISTER MARY TRINITA, MARYKNOLL, N. Y. Sister TRINITA. I am Sister Mary Trinita, a Catholic missionary, with a residence of 19 years in Manila, from July 1927 to June 1946. About 10 days after the Japanese entered Manila, I, with a number of other religious, were interned in a French convent, and I stayed there until April 11, 1944. At that time three members of the Japanese military police came to the convent, asked to see me, by name, searched the house, and then decided that they would take me to Fort Santiago for further questioning.

There I was accused of espionage, guerilla activities, and keeping up the spirits of the Filipinos, and I was ordered to write a confession of all that I had done against the Imperial Japanese Army.

When I refused to do this they asked if I was aware that the punishment was death. But that if I would write this confession they would with a slight punishment, transfer me to Santo Tomas internment camp. As I had done nothing against the military I insisted, and did not write any confession.

They then put me in a dungeon at Fort Santiago. After 8 hours, at 2 o'clock in the morning, they took me from the dungeon, and questioned me again for 3 hours.

At 5 o'clock in the morning I was put into one of the cells in the regular cell section.

For the next 4 weeks I was taken from the cell and questioned two and three times every day or night. I was beaten three times and was given the "water treatment" three times, and endured other mental

tortures.

During this period the food was one saucer of rice three times a day. In July it was reduced to the same amount, twice a day. And then in November to camotes twice a day. In the cell we were not permitted to talk to the other prisoners, we had to sit on the floor from 7 o'clock in the morning until 7 o'clock at night, without a back support.

At night we would just stretch out on the bare, crowded floor, in bed, and try to get what sleep we could.

I was again called for investigation on the 19th and 29th of June, and when I insisted upon my innocence they told me I could go back to the cell and sit there, and the people with whom I had been working would tell. I had not been working with anybody, and I knew nobody could say anything against me. But they let me stay there until the 21st of December.

On the 21st of December I was transferred to Cortabitate Garrison, in Malate, and there I was put in a cell with men and women. For the next 10 days prisoners were brought in, men and women. They stayed a few days, were taken out, and their hands tied. Some of their bodies have since been recovered.

During the last 2 months of my imprisonment I was not permitted out of the cell for any reason. On the 31st of December one of the military police who had arrested me came to the cell and told me I was going to Los Banos.

They took me first to the Far Eastern University, turned me over to the Japanese officer in charge of the civilian concentration camps, then I rode in a Japanese Army truck to the paco station, and at 11 o'clock that night I was placed in a boxcar with 300 Japanese soldiers,

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