I feel proud to be Pinoy
whenever I think of Bataan. History tells us that the province helped place
anew the Philippines on the global map during the last World War, because of
the heroism we displayed there.
Historical accounts say that
in 1942, Japan launched an all-out
offensive—an air, sea and land assault that destroyed foxholes,
hospitals and ammunition depots—against the combined Fil-American forces which
have retreated to the province. After six days of intense fighting, Bataan
fell. The defenders had no other choice but to capitulate to the Japanese
Imperial Army to put an end to the carnage.
After the surrender came one
of the most horrifying episodes of the
Pacific War — the Death March! A 105-kilometer harrowing trek from Bataan to
Tarlac that lasted for five cruel days, leaving over 75,000 Filipino and
American soldiers weakened by hunger, thirst, illness and fatigue. Many of them
were either tortured or killed for attempting to quench their hunger and
thirst.
Yesterday’s theater of war,
however, has turned into today’s tourist attraction. Nestled at the peak of Mt.
Samat in the town of Pilar is the Dambana
ng Kagitingan (Shrine of Valor), the monumental beacon of bravery erected
to commemorate the gallantry of the soldiers who died in defense of freedom in
Bataan.
Built under the orders of
the late President Ferdinand Marcos, who was a war veteran himself, the Shrine
of Valor stands on a 73,665-hectare area at the highest point of the mountain.
Completed and inaugurated in 1970 in time for the 25th anniversary of the end
of World War II, the shrine consists of a colonnade and a memorial cross.
On a recent trip to Manila,
I found time to accept some friends’ invite to climb Mt. Samat and take a look
at the shrine. One fine Saturday morning, my three friends—Juju, Minnie, Luz—and
I left the metro at around 6 and, after a relaxing two-hour trip aboard an
aircon bus, we reached Balanga City.
We then hopped into a
jeepney that took us to the town of Pilar. To reach our destination, Juju, the
most irrepressible adventure junkie I’ve ever known, flagged two tricycles
plying the route to and from the shrine. The less than 20-minute ride along the
serpentine road not only gave the four of us some adrenaline rush but also
treated us to snippets of the breathtaking view down below.
Upon reaching the entrance
to the shrine, we wasted no time and hiked towards the colonnade. Made of
marble, the structure is surrounded by esplanade. Inside the structure, we had
a blast taking snaps at the various works of art found there: the marble altar,
the religious stained glass murals, the large bronze chandeliers hanging from
the building’s ceiling as well as the huge lateral walls where a narrative
about the Battle of Bataan was inscribed.
From the colonnade, we then
headed towards memorial cross found at the highest point of Mt. Samat, which is
about 555 meters (1,821 ft) above sea level. Along with other groups, we passed
through a zigzagging footpath on the mountain’s slope that led to the base of
the cross. After several starts and stops to catch our breaths interspersed
with snaps here and there, the four of us made it to the cross.
Rising some 92 meters (302
ft) from its base, the cross is a massive structure that’s made of steel and
reinforced concrete with an elevator and viewing deck at its arms. Its exterior
is capped with sculptural bas-reliefs by National Artist Napoleon Abueva, which
depicted Philippine historical figures and events like Dr. Jose Rizal’s
execution, among others.
Having taken enough pictures
of ourselves, Juju led us up the elevator to catch a glimpse of Bataan’s
mountains at the viewing deck. Needless to say, the view was spell-binding! We
lingered there for several minutes to snap at anything that fancied us.
Nowadays, the shrine in
Bataan attracts busloads of tourists and excursionists, especially during weekends. So, adventure junkie and history
buff, what are you waiting for? Grab that backpack, scale Mt. Samat and join
the throngs basking in the glory of Bataan’s beacon of bravery.
For the record, I’m not some
bloodthirsty, trigger-happy fellow brandishing a fetish for guns, gore and
glory. But I did fire a rifle! And I managed to hit the target a number of
times during our ROTC combat exercises in college. But then again, I’m
basically a peacemaker, more of a lover than a fighter.
Even so, the history junkie—not
to mention the photography buff—in me had been insisting time and again that
“invasions” of historic places like Bataan and Corregidor should be part of my
bucket list. Having visited the Shrine of Valor at the summit of Mt. Samat in
Bataan, I thought it would be a historical milestone of sorts for me as a true
blue Pinoy if I made it to Corregidor this time.
Corregidor (a.k.a. Fort
Mills), one of the major battlegrounds in the Asia-Pacific region during World
War II, is the biggest among five small islands—the other four being Caballo
(a.k.a Fort Hughes), Carabao (a.k.a. Fort Frank), El Fraile (a.k.a. Fort Drum)
and La Monja—guarding the entrance to Manila Bay. Flanked by the equally
historic provinces of Bataan and Cavite, these islands fall under the
territorial jurisdiction of Cavite City (not Bataan as I’d thought).
Nestled 48 miles west of
Manila, the once heavily fortified island fortress, which is known as “The
Rock” because of its craggy landscape, is where anyone interested to know about
the Philippines’ involvement in the Pacific war can come to reconnect with the
not so pacific past. And reconnect I did recently. 
The chance to see the Rock
came my way courtesy of Manila-based long-time friend, Juju, who accompanied
the five of us—Joel, Marisa, Minnie, Luz and Wines—to the tadpole-shaped island
one gloomy Saturday morning. Joining a throng of local and foreign tourists, we
headed for the historic battlefield, sailing from Manila aboard one of Sun
Cruises’ catamarans docking at the pier beside the Folk Arts Theater. 
Cruising for over an hour in
the choppy waters of Manila Bay, our catamaran had a tough time dealing with
the strong currents which bashed it for the most part of the journey. Alas, the
turbulent motions of the boat triggered seasickness among a number of the
passengers—including Joel, Luz and me (my first time!). Good thing, I had the
foresight to bring along my reliable lifeline—a soothing liniment—which helped
tide me over the rough voyage. 
Upon our arrival at the
island’s pier, all of us hopped into one of the tranvias owned by Sun Cruises.
Serving as our tour vehicle, the tranvia is an open-air public utility vehicle
plying around Manila during the early American times. It really seemed surreal
as we boarded the tram, making me feel like we were about to be transported
back in time. As the tranvia meandered through the well-paved roads of the
island, I tried to recall some of the things I’ve read about Corregidor’s
history. 
It was America, however, who converted the Rock into a seemingly impregnable stronghold that would put to shame the fictional island fortress of Navarone and its formidable guns that are feared for their awesome firepower. In the early 1900s, the U.S. poured millions of dollars to develop Corregidor into a military reservation, establishing an army post named Fort Mills and deploying a battalion of soldier-engineers who worked on the embankments, bomb-proof shelters, roads and trails. 
But what really interested
me and my friends were the ruins and artillery found at the topside and middle
side sections. Staring at the crumbling spectacles and decrepit weapons of mass
destruction, I saw, albeit vicariously, how thousands of Fil-American soldiers
displayed courage and gallantry while making one of the most heroic stands
against the Japanese. Surrounded by those stark reminders of armed conflict—heavy
artillery, mortars, canons, old barracks, ruined buildings and structures—I thought about how difficult it must have been
for those soldiers to defend the Philippines and how agonizing it was for the
country to be entangled in one of the bloodiest military wars ever fought
throughout the ages. 
For more than three scores
now, the guns of Corregidor have fallen silent. But the remnants left in the island still echo with countless tales
of heroism that were valiantly displayed there. For this alone, I think
generations of Pinoys ought to pay homage to those who gave up their lives for
independence and democracy, keeping in mind that the freedom they are enjoying,
which, sadly, many seem to take for granted, would have remained a dream if not
for the thousands who sacrificed their lives in the Rock during those harrowing
days of the Pacific War. 
I once told myself that if I
made it to the island, I’d be able to conquer one more historical place in the
Philippines. On the contrary, however, it was Corregidor which ended up
conquering my mind, heart and soul in more ways than one. Indeed, the island
had me at the tranvia. And who wouldn’t? There’s really no choice but to
surrender sweetly to the island’s historical charms.
Today, an average of 10,000
local and foreign tourists flock to the island every year. On this score, it
can be said that the Rock has succeeded in morphing itself from a war zone to a
tourist hotspot. But that doesn’t mean that tourism authorities can now be
complacent. For Corregidor to continue attracting more visitors, those managing
it must keep on creating more value-added services to shore up the island’s
competitiveness in the cultural-historical tourism market.
