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. The following is Part 1 of a three-part account by 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 2 will appear in tomorrow’s edition.

A Missionary’s Story

During the year 1940, and especially during 1941, the threat of war between Japan and the United States became more imminent, and fear and anxiety about the future began to take hold and agonize the people of Saipan. Gradually, military personnel began to arrive and soon a military government was established on the island. I do not recall the exact date, but I do remember that by mid-1941 we were already under military rule. The military occupied the parish church, saying they needed it to store war materiel; thus, the mission was left without a church, and we had to set up a tiny chapel to celebrate the Eucharist and for other acts of worship. Naturally, all the people who attended could not fit inside the chapel, and we assembled them in our dining room and the visiting area, which were quite spacious and connected to the chapel by a door.

During 1941, around the month of November, if I remember correctly, the military assembled some thirty young native men with good command of the Japanese language to instruct them in the strategy of war. At this point, we must bear in mind that Guam, the southernmost of the Mariana Islands and located only 206 miles from Saipan, belonged to the United States, and that all the other islands of the Mariana archipelago belonged to Japan. From these native men and their relatives, we learned that Japan was going to initiate the war against the United States at dawn on 8 December. At the time, Saipan had a population of 3,000 natives and 35,000 Japanese. The panic that struck the people was indescribable, and since all the local people were Catholic, each and every one, without exception, received the sacrament of penance in preparation for death. One should have seen the joy expressed by the parish priest, Father Jose Maria Tardio, because according to him, it had been more effective than a mission.

December 7 arrived. All the military men and the thirty selectees designated to start the war by attacking the island of Guam departed aboard ships to Rota, a small island halfway between Saipan and Guam. At dawn on the 8th, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, they headed for Guam, and before landing on the island, the thirty local men were ordered into the water to make preparations for the landing of the Japanese. The U.S. Government on Guam was unaware of Japan’s intentions and was caught completely by surprise, with no war defenses. Consequently, the Japanese advanced with no difficulty and gained control of the island within four days. As a result of this attack, all missionaries, both Spanish and American, were taken prisoner, and only two recently ordained young native diocesan priests remained on Guam.

Meanwhile, what was happening on Saipan? Father Tardio routinely came to our chapel daily to celebrate the Eucharist at 5:00 in the morning. I do not remember whether it was on the 12th or the 13th when Father Tardio did not come, but at about 5:30, four Japanese policemen arrived to search our home. After the search, they ordered us to accompany them to the police station. In a large room, the chief of police and the entire police force, both Japanese and native, awaited us. Father Tardio and Brother Oroquieta were there also. Once we entered the room, the chief of police solemnly declared that Father Tardio and Brother Oroquieta were under arrest and would be confined to their residence, totally isolated from the people. As for the sisters, we were placed under arrest also, although we were allowed to walk around, but only within the town of Garapan.

Father Tardio (who realized we would be without mass as a result of this sentence, but who did not speak Japanese) asked in Chamorro if he could go to our chapel to celebrate mass. A native policeman, very experienced and knowledgeable of the Japanese, in a completely free translation said, “Chief, Father Tardio has to pray in the chapel every morning at 5:00, and he asks whether he may continue to do so.” The chief, who must have been surprised at the need to pray, answered, “Of course! No problem!” Thus our daily mass was saved, at least for the time being. But it was short-lived. Eight days later, the police came again to take us to the government offices. There we were told that Father Tardio was forbidden to go pray in our chapel, and that we, too, were to be confined to our residence and isolated from the people.

It was 23 December 1941. There we were, without mass, without the sacraments, and without contact from the priest or the people. They did consent, however, that Remedios Castro (then an 18-year-old woman, today a sister of the Mercedarian Missionaries of Berriz) could stay with us to obtain food and help with whatever necessities might arise.

Given this state of affairs, and seeing God in the circumstances surrounding us, we prepared to spend the Christmas holidays as joyfully as possible. The days and months passed, and Lent came. Meanwhile, the people were caught in an ever-increasing panic, without mass, without the sacraments. The Saipanese were all Catholics and absolutely isolated from us. That group of people, so close to its missionaries!

By March 1944, the town [of Garapan] had been evacuated. Little by little, all Chamorro families had been moved to their ranchos, the inherited properties that all native families owned in the jungles or in the countryside where they cultivated fruit trees and vegetable gardens and tended animals. Now, we were practically alone in the town, surrounded by the military.

In early March 1944 we were told we had to leave Garapan, and we were moved to a hill where there were two unoccupied houses a short distance apart. One was for us, the other for Father Tardio and Brother Oroquieta. Here we were able to participate in a daily mass celebrated by Father Tardio in a nearby hut. The scenery was beautiful, with views of the ocean, and we immediately realized we would be the first to see American ships when they arrived. The Japanese must have realized that also, because exactly a month later, they moved us to another location [Chalan Galaide]. They took us to a ravine surrounded by jungle where we could barely see the sky. They had built a small wooden house for us, while Father Tardio and Brother Oroquieta were given the small house belonging to the landowner. About 100 meters from our house, they had prepared an underground shelter, measuring approximately 1 X 5 meters, where we were instructed to take refuge when the alarm siren sounded. Father Tardio and Brother Oroquieta also had their own shelter.

On 22 May we heard a deafening sound, like a truck lumbering up the mountain. We were surprised because we did not believe a truck could maneuver those roads. The truck stopped across from our house on the opposite side of the ravine and the crew began unloading it. They brought cases of ammunition and placed them around our house, like a wall. Sister Mercedes protested and asked how they could do such a horrible thing as to surround our house with cases of ammunition when in a war-time situation the slightest mishap could set them ablaze and kill us all. Unmoved, the officer commanding the operation calmly shook his head: “Our intention is to take this to a cave nearby, but we cannot do it today. We will return in a few days and take these cases to the cave.” It was obvious that his intent was quite different, because for that purpose, it would not have been necessary to go to the trouble of hauling those boxes across the ravine and placing them around our house.

Our life went on more or less as it had in Garapan: isolated, with no news of anyone. Remedios would go to town or to the hamlets where she knew she could find food. One day, the sisters had taken their meal and it was approximately 2:00 in the afternoon when I went into the house to get something to eat. Suddenly, bombs exploded around us and a deluge of bullets and shrapnel fell on the roof. It was 11 June 1944. In this predicament we could not run to the shelter, about 100 meters away, and we protected ourselves as best we could, covering ourselves with mattresses. When the air battle ended at dusk, as it did daily during the battle of Saipan, we went outside the house. The spectacle was awe-inspiring and terrifying, the surrounding mountains aflame, covered by a dense black smoke. Miraculously, none of the bullets around our building exploded, although we could hear others exploding in the boxes located at a certain distance from the house.

It was decided that the following day, at 4:00 in the morning, we would celebrate mass in a ruined shed nearby, then we would go to the shelter, taking sufficient food for the day.

A young couple lived in a house nearby where they had been since being evacuated from town. We suggested they join us when we had to go to the shelter and they gladly accepted. It was important to have lay persons witness whatever might happen, because the rumor among the local people was that the Japanese intended to kill us. There were nine of us—seven sisters and the couple—compelled to spend the day in a space so small that we could hardly change position. We never lacked food; the worst thing was that the air became more and more scarce as the hours passed, and by mid-afternoon it was difficult to breathe. The first day of our voluntary retreat into the shelter was Monday, 12 June. We did not move all day, but placed ourselves in God’s hands and listened to the thunder of the air battle.

(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.)