Personal Histories of World War II in the Marianas

This series is presented by the CNMI Museum of History and Culture for the 60th Anniversary Commemoration of the Battles for Saipan and Tinian. This is Part 2 of the account of Sister Maria Angelica Salaberria, M.M.B. [Mercedarian Missionaries of Berriz], who served the people of Saipan from 1934 to 1949, and again from 1967 to 1971. Part 3 will appear in tomorrow’s edition.

A Missionary’s Story

I believe it was on Friday of that week that we came out of the shelter at nightfall while Sister Genoveva went to the kitchen to prepare food. When Sister Genoveva did not return, Sister Mercedes said to me, “Let’s go see what Sister Genoveva is doing.” Upon arriving at the house, we were met at the entrance to the kitchen by two military policemen, rifles in hand. The kitchen had no wall on one side and the fire that the sister had made to prepare dinner and the next day’s meal could be seen from the outside. The policemen were furious, because according to them, we had made the fire to signal the Americans on the other side of the jungle. One of them pointed his gun at Sister Mercedes and me, about five or six meters away, and made a motion as if to fire. Fortunately, a third soldier appeared behind him, quickly grabbed his arm, preventing him from firing, and said: “Don’t do that, you fool!” Remedios stood there, struck dumb with fear. “Remedios, speak,” I said. As a lay person and a Chamorro, I thought it best that she be the one to speak. She said, “How can you think such a thing of these nuns who have come to help us all, the local people and the Japanese?” The soldier answered, “Fine, but if they build another fire, I will kill them.” Once again, God’s loving providence was with us.

On Sunday, the 18th,we were in the shelter, as we had been every day, when at mid-morning two civilian policemen appeared at the entrance, screaming for Angelica-sama to come out. One of them said to me, “We have come on behalf of the chief of the civilian police to tell you he thinks you will be better off near the Japanese civilian population, which we have gathered around Mount Tapochau. Be prepared at 8:00 this evening, and we will come to take you to Mount Tapochau.” We informed Father Tardio and Brother Oroquieta. We did not know whether the change would be for better or worse, but since we were not doing well where we were, we received the order with a certain enthusiasm.

We began the pilgrimage at 8:00 in the evening, carrying our small bundles and escorted by two policemen. It was a long walk. All I remember is that we arrived at Mount Tapochau at midnight. The policemen left us in a clearing, telling us to rest there, that they would take us to a better location at daybreak. Exhausted, we lay on the ground to sleep, when after a couple of hours we became aware of a racket around us: a battalion of parachutists had landed exactly where we were. Imagine our fright, in the dark of night. At dawn, the policemen took us to another place, and again, God’s loving providence protected us. No sooner had we moved from the site where we had rested, than a bomb fell on the exact spot. The place where the police had left us was a large clearing, with not a single tree for shelter. Furthermore, we were caught between Japanese and American crossfire. We spent the day lying face down on the ground, bullets whizzing continuously over our heads. A bomb fell close to Brother Oroquieta, but did not explode. At nightfall, a soldier approached us to see if we were dead and was surprised to find we were alive.

This is when it occurred to Remedios to go to the chief of police and ask him to take us to her father’s ranch, located in the northern part of the island where there are many caves and we would be safer. The chief amiably acceded, but said, “It cannot be tonight, because we are busy leading the entire Japanese population north.” Consequently, we had to stay in the same place, under the same circumstances, caught in the crossfire for yet another day. I believe it was on the 21st, after Father Tardio had heard our confessions—which we thought could be our last—that the police gave us orders to proceed. We had to go down from Mount Tapochau, and to save time, they took us on a short-cut, a very narrow, steep, and rocky path. In some places we had to descend sitting down, grasping the bushes along the sides of the pathway. While we were going down the mountainside, a battalion of soldiers was coming up the same path, heading for the early morning battle. Several soldiers moved quickly, carrying the dead on stretchers. Here and there, huge piles of bodies were burning, which made a tremendous impression on us. From their ships, the Americans fired bullets or bombs—I do not know what those weapons were called—but they produced a deafening shrill, and upon reaching a certain height, lit the battlefield as if it were daytime. When they exploded, large chunks of burning iron fell; if they struck someone, they tore them to pieces, legs, arms, and heads flying in all directions.

We continued to walk northward, and around daylight, we reached Talofofo. We were left there on the side of a mountain, at a place so rocky that there was no level place to sit. The air battles began very early, and we had no choice but to lie, face down, all day. At around 5:00 in the afternoon, the battle subsided and we had just begun to eat when suddenly, several planes flew by, showering bullets over the area. One of them struck me, entering the right side of my chest and exiting my back. Father Tardio was a few meters above me and I screamed, “Father, absolution, please! I am going to die—I have been wounded.” Father Tardio, lying face down, turned and blessed me. All I could think of was, “Now, I will see God.” Sister Mercedes realized I was bleeding to death, and in spite of the deluge of bullets, managed to remove a towel from her bag and wrap it tightly around me to stop the streaming blood. At this point, we noticed that several gasoline tanks eight or ten meters away had started to burn, and since the wind was blowing in our direction, the flames were coming toward us. Naturally, we started to leave, but then we noticed that Sister Genoveva was not moving. We went to her and found she was dead; but for the time being, we had to leave her. Once safely away from the flames we met a soldier, and we asked him if he could take us to a cave. He took us to a nearby cave filled with Japanese civilians. Early in the morning we were taken to a much more peaceful place than Talofofo. We were left amid the foliage of trees where we felt safer psychologically, though such was not the case as planes flew overhead and bombs exploded all day.

Meanwhile, my wound was getting worse. At 8:00 in the evening they took me to a large cave where two famous surgeons were attending wounded civilians. One of them treated my wound so well that it gave me great relief. Since we were not far from where we left Sister Genoveva’s body, we begged the policeman to take us there. He agreed to do so, and we found the body where we had left it. We told him we wished to bury her and asked when and how we could do it. The chief of police who was there replied that we need not worry; they would bury her. Later we were able to confirm that it did not happen. When the battle for Saipan ended, with the help of some American soldiers a search for the body was made in the area where she had died, but it was never found. It was probably cremated, as were all bodies.

The next stop was at a place called Calaveras [Kalabera], near the coast on the east side where there are high vertical cliffs. There we felt more protected from the bullets and bombs, although we could see them exploding against the huge cliffs before our very eyes, as though we were watching a scene unfolding on a screen. My wound was dressed a second time. Meanwhile, Remedios kept insisting that we be taken to Marpi, at the northern end of the island, to her father’s ranch. Finally, they relented and the policeman informed us we would be escorted there that night. It was either June 29th or 30th. We had to cross the island from east to west, a distance of six miles, then continue up and down, over the mountains to Marpi. There was a doctor among the Japanese there, and it occurred to Sister Mercedes to ask him to dress my wound before we left, since it had not been treated for several days. The man was extremely nervous and frightened. By the light of the full moon he began to dress my wound. In his haste, I do not know what he stuffed inside my open wound, and when a luminous bomb exploded, he fled like a bolt of lightning and hid. The pain was so great that had Remedios not supported me, I would have fainted; nevertheless, we immediately began our pilgrimage to the west. The luminous bombs followed us, and as usual, we had to hit the ground instantly when they appeared. How could I, in my condition, have walked so far, performed such movements as throwing myself suddenly to the ground, then getting up again? I do not know. What is clear is that, for God, nothing is impossible.

We crossed the island and at a place near the west coast the policeman stopped and said, “You are now free; you may continue by yourselves.” Imagine our joy, when after nearly three years of detention, we unexpectedly found ourselves free. We were at the intersection of two roads leading to Marpi. One was very long, since it was necessary to skirt a mountain to get there; the other was much shorter, but Remedios found it so changed that she was afraid there would be military installations along the way that would prevent us from proceeding. We decided to take the long way, and after skirting the mountain, arrived at Remedios’ father’s ranch at 4:00 in the morning. After the battle, we learned that the shorter road had been electrified along both sides, because it was feared the Americans would invade on that side of the island.

Excerpted from A Time of Agony: Saipan, 1944, by Sister Maria Angelica Salaberria, M.M.B. Translated and edited by Marjorie G. Driver and Omaira Brunal-Perry. MARC Educational Series No. 19. Published in 1994 by the Division of Historic Preservation, CNMI Department of Community and Cultural Affairs, and the Micronesian Area Research Center, University of Guam. Used by permission.