Originally posted on February 26, 2010
In 1942, Japanese where kicking the Americans’ @$$es so hard, $h!t were starting to come out of their mouths. The Japs bombed Pearl Harbor down to every single-cell life form and are swinging their seemingly Sauron-forged samurais on malaria-stricken American soldiers in the Philippines. The Japs ended up having 75,000 American and Pilipino Prisoners of War. Man, they were pumped!… and shocked.
The Japs believed (still do) that captivity is way below hell’s standards. They would rather die and suffer the consequence of committing the unforgivable sin than suffer in shame on the hands of the enemies. They were at their wits end on what to do with the 75K POWs they had. They didn’t have resources and certainly no desire to take care of them. So they figured, why not make them walk 90 kms, from Bataan to Cabanatuan, just because they freakin’ feel like doin’ so and while they were at it, why not hit them, stab them, cut their freakin’ throats and heads, shoot them, rape them, and refuse to give them food or water for a week. That’ll kill them, right? Or not.
Apparently some 53,000 had the ability to not die and it enraged the Japs even more. So they turned those left alive to slaves making them work, giving them no food or water or medicine until they die. Hitler would have been put to shame.
By 1945, Americans were pissed off. They were shamed enough, that’s a given so they had nothing to lose. So Lt. Gen. Walter Krueger, assigned the 6th Ranger Battalion stationed in the Pacific to prepare themselves for a mathaf$%k!n’ raid.
Lt. Col. Henry A. Mucci, a 1936 West Point graduate, was all set to send his men and him to infiltrate the Japs camp about 30 miles behind enemy lines, assault the Cabanatuan POW Camp, liberate the prisoners and return them safely to U.S. lines before the Japanese could mount a counterattack.
One man, though, came forward and said “Yo, no disrespect, but don’t do that unless you’re on a fu$%!n mission to bury your men and what is left of your honor 80ft below the ground.” That man is JUAN PAJOTA.
Mucci didn’t listen at first and no one can blame him, they know for a fact that a “Kill-All” prisoner of war policy, ordering all Japanese prison guards to execute American POWs rather than let them fall into US hands, was in effect. The order was to kill every single POW in any way possible – mass bombing, poisonous smoke, poisons, drowning, decapitation, rape, pluck out every single bodily organ they have while they were alive. It doesn’t freakin’ matter as long as it’s done.
Aight, that’s screwed.
Pajota, however, knew that an unprepared, unplanned raid driven by anger instead of strategy will only make matters worse. Not only will the POWs be killed, the soldiers that are supposed to rescue the prisoners will die as well. Pajota is not about to let that $h!t fly, not on his freakin’ watch.
Americans had to listen. This is, afterall, the h@rd@ss m0th3rf#$%3r who, when the Americans and Filipino forces surrendered in Bataan decided he ain’t gonna kiss anyone’s ass nor does he plan on getting his country and himself @$$fu#$ed. With virtually no weapons, no food, no money, he used pure badassery in raiding Japanese positions in as many places as he could go to. He burned those chinkey-eyed TV-inventing m0th3rfu#$3rs alive, kicked them in their tiny b@ll$, and broke their necks with his bare hands left, right and effin’ center.
Other generals agreed his ass is as tough as superman’s insignia that they promoted him as captain of the guerrillas in Nueva Ecija, his hometown. Well, he owned the place to the core. He made sure he gets to know every person, place, street, house, establishment, animal, insect, effin’ dust like the back of his freakin’ hand. He knew the place so well, he could go around the town through backflips without stopping with his eyes closed and a cigarette on his effin’ mouth!
The Americans said “Aight, you had us at effin’ hello. You lead us.” Well, Pajota came to represent. With the help of another badass Pinoy guerrilla army leader, Eduardo Joson, he asked the villagers to help them cover these towering Americans so they could sneak in deep into enemy lines. Pajota knew the terrains, he knew where to go when to go. They walked, crawled, rolled on the safest routes Pajota knew and the villagers took them in like effin’ streetkids every time they needed some rest and food. The villagers even agreed to device ways on how to keep the dogs from barking at the unfamiliar Americans. After several days of traveling, Pajota had the Americans in striking distance of the camp.
Okay, just keep in mind that this was the ‘40s. M-1 Garand rifle and M-1 carbine were considered a killing machine. Getting new resources in a place like the Philippines would take a week. Well, they didn’t have a week. They didn’t even have an effin’ day! Mucci had to carry a f$%&in’ .45 caliber pistol to the raid. Outstanding.
While moving the Americans, coordinating with locals, strategizing the raid, communicating with American generals, Pajota also managed to obtain the latest intelligence, collect enough carabao carts to transport liberated POWs too weak to walk back and prepare enough food for several hundred men. Mucci was itching to bring those Japs down but Pajota asked for one more day in order to gather additional intelligence and to allow time for a large force of Japanese transiting the area to depart.
On January 30th, the plan went into action.
The main Ranger force planned to hit the camp from two sides. The camp was relatively lightly guarded but a large force of 8,000 Japanese was camped on the far side of the river. Pajota didn’t see this as a problem, they can kill the holy h3ll out of these Japs so he volunteered his men to defend the bridge and hold off the Japanese counterattack as long as possible. Pajota got his men into position, wired the bridge with explosives, and prepared for a fight. On Pajota’s recommendation, a P-61 night fighter was scheduled to fly overhead just prior to the attack as a distraction.
At 1945 hours, Murphy fired the first shot with his almighty .45 caliber pistol, indicating 2nd Platoon of Company F was in position at the rear of the camp, the signal for the attack to commence. The Rangers went into rage like demented dragons in sugar overload.
Pajota’s men were cool like James Dean on a Calvin Klein photoshoot. They fired on the Japanese battalion in the bivouac next to Cabu Creek while the Ranger bazooka teams knocked out two tanks and a truck.
In less than 15 minutes, resistance inside the POW compound had been eliminated. They rescued 513 US POWs and were loaded up onto wooden carts which were pulled by water buffalos and driven by Pilipino villagers procured by Pajota and his men
You think that was it? Hell no.
The Japs swarmed the bridge where Pajota’s men were positioned. Pajota detonated the explosives but that didn’t destroy the bridge. It, however, created enough damage to not allow any tank to safely cross. Well, Japs were simply on it to death. Remember, they would rather burn in hell than surrender so they charged with no other end in mind that kill someone or kill themselves trying.
Pajota and his men were outnumbered – 1000 is to 1. Pajota didn’t give a f$%&. They shoot every Japs on sight and killed anyone who comes close with their bare hands. One Filipino soldier even took down four tanks. They didn’t stop until they Americans were safe. There were 21 Filipinos wounded in the battle and 4 Americans were killed, while 523 Japanese soldiers were killed or wounded.
I wouldn’t care to mention the recognition they got from the Americans because as far as I am concerned, no recognition is even close to the vicinity of what they should get for what they did for a race that, we have to admit it, SOMETIMES, still looks down on Pinoys. Well, they look down on each other, what do Pinoys expect? Pajota and his men risked their lives, the people in the village risked their lives all to save the POWs.
Because of Pajota, his men and the local villagers, 513 families got their son/husband/brother back into their home. A prospect they almost gave up on.
That’s one hell of an act, one hell of a heart, one hell of a spirit, in one hell of a man. You don’t get any more hardcore and any kinder than that.
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