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.

A Son’s Story

My father, Jesus Ubet Ruak, was born on Chuuk Island but I don’t know when. My mother, Rosa Iguel, was born on Tinian. Her parents had migrated to Tinian from one of the outer islands of Chuuk called Nomonuito Atoll. When my father married my mother he had to become a Catholic and adopted the first name “Jesus.” This was after my mother’s family moved from Tinian to Saipan.

When I was growing up during Japanese times I went to Japanese school. I would walk from our village of Tanapag to Garapan where the school was. We had to get up early in the morning to be sure that we would be at the school before the actual hour that school began. I was never late for school because I was afraid of being punished. The Japanese would hit you on the back, and if you kept on doing bad things they made you get on your knees and put your arms straight above your head. You might have to stay like that for an hour without moving. But before they punished you they would always ask you why you did it. It was scary to lie to the Japanese, because if they thought you were lying they would punish you even harder.

I did not finish second grade because the war started. They let all the students stay at home because they didn’t know when U.S. forces might come and they didn’t want the students to be at school when that happened. So the school was closed, and not knowing the meaning of war, I enjoyed myself. One unfortunate part of this was that the Japanese military needed all of the buildings that we had here on the island, so they asked all the people to move away from the village. And since my mother and father were not actually Saipanese we had no other place to go. However, some Chamorro friends invited us to stay at their farm. That was in the Saddok Dogas area, not far from Tanapag Village. We were there with my stepbrother, Francisco, my sister, Luciana, her husband, Joaquin Taisague, my mother, and my father’s godson, Jose Kani Teigita. Also, our church was closed so that the church building could be used for storing supplies. The Japanese soldiers dug trenches all over the village. My father and some other men from the village were taken away by the Japanese military to work. Believe it or not, they were never paid.

We relied on local foods, like bananas, breadfruit, tapioca, and sweet potatoes. For water we had to catch rain. We couldn’t go fishing because we were restricted by the Japanese military. Sometimes we went hungry, but there was nothing we could do about it. I complained to my mother, but all she could do was ask me to be a little more patient. Sometimes people would come by with sugar cane and they would offer me some. That would help take away some of my hunger and thirst. Sometimes the American planes would fly over Saipan. When they did, the men working at Aslito Airfield would run away. My father was one of them. One time when he ran away he came to see us, and maybe he stayed a little bit too long, because by the time he reported back he was very late. He was punished. The Japanese made him put his hands on top of his head, then they hit him with long sticks. My father fell down; his ribs were broken. He stood up and they slapped him around some more. He could walk afterward, but very slowly. When he breathed they could see that something in his side was moving in and out, so they let him go. Some relatives brought him home. There was nothing to carry him on, so they put his arms around their shoulders and walked with him. He died early one morning just before the Americans landed. Planes were flying around, and there were ships all around the island. He died because of the beating. That was June 1944, just before the Americans started dropping down bombs.

I liked my father very much; he was a good friend. After the beating he couldn’t lie down because of the pain. He could only sit, and he was like that for two or three weeks before he died. When he wanted to sleep I piled pillows on my lap and he would lay his head on the pillows. I was with him almost constantly during those last weeks. When he had been sitting up too long he would bang his fist on the table to get my attention. When I came near him, he would smile and laugh. Then he would ask me to sing a song to him. He liked traditional Chuukese songs.

My sister, Luciana, would sit at the door with her baby. Her husband was somewhere working for the Japanese. My father spoke very softly and he never complained, although we knew he was suffering. My father’s godson, Jose Kani Teigita, always looked at me when my father became silent. He would say, “Check my godfather.” So I would go over and touch my father’s hand. He would open his eyes and smile, and say, “I’m all right. Don’t worry.” Then he would say, “Why don’t you sing a song so I can go to sleep?” But I didn’t know how to sing Carolinian songs then. I could sing some Japanese school songs, but not Carolinian.

I continued to help my father like this because I loved him. The day he died he asked me to put pillows on my lap so he could sleep. He rested like that for two or three minutes, then he moved to a box where we kept our clothes. He put his head down there and slept. I sat there and waited for him to talk to me. Then he fell down on the ground. I was very excited because he never laid down before. My mother knew that he was dead because he didn’t move. We all prayed, then I was sent to tell all of our relatives that my dad died. I started walking along the railroad tracks into the village, but before I reached my destination I heard the air raid sirens and bells. Then I could see American planes, and plenty of ships all around the island. I stood there and watched; I saw Japanese planes get shot down. Then my stepbrother, Francisco, threw a rock at me and told me to get down. I could see the smoke and fire coming from the cannons on the ships. The hill in back of us is where the shells exploded, because they could see tanks moving around there.

There was nothing we could do; we just wrapped my father up, and some relatives took him to the Tanapag Cemetery and buried him. My mother was afraid; she was shaking. My sister, Rosiana, told my mother that we had to get out of there. So we did. We ran further up the hill above Tanapag. Some people were kind enough to share their cave with us. They gave us water and some ripe bananas. I don’t remember their names, but they were a Chamorro family and they were very nice. They were in a cave, but there was not enough room in there for all of us, so some of us had to stay outside. There was a big tree outside the cave, so if any planes flew over they couldn’t see us. A small stream passed by this cave, so at night we could go down and get some water. We stayed there for about three weeks.

One of my brothers-in-law who ran away from Aslito Field came looking for his family. I don’t know how he did it, but he found his family on the other side of the hill from where we were, on the east side of the island. My aunt was there and she asked my brother-in-law to look for my mother and the rest of us. He looked around for us until he came to the place where we were hiding. This was at night, around midnight. He told us to come with him. So we went out of the cave, and with him to the other side of the mountain. We stayed in that area until the U.S. Marines came and took us out.

After what happened to my father I became very afraid of Japanese soldiers. Then one night about four or five Japanese soldiers came to the cave where we were hiding. They asked if there were men among us. We said, “Yes.” The soldiers told the men to go with them and they would show them where they could find some food. So, my brothers-in-law and the others went with the soldiers, and they took them to Tanapag Church. There was a hole there; it was full of supplies like biscuits, canned goods, and sweet things, like candy. They brought these things back to us through the kindness and good heart of these Japanese soldiers. I was wondering why my father was killed by the Japanese, then these soldiers take some of my family to get food for the rest of us. Up to this day I cannot make sense of it.

We continued to stay in that cave, and at night we had to go out and look for water. That was the most crucial thing. I would go with my relatives. I liked to go because if I found sugar cane I would chew it, and that helped alleviate my thirst. And when we couldn’t find water we had only the sugar cane.

Believe me, I enjoyed my stay in that cave there with my mother, my sisters, and other relatives. I liked it especially in the early morning when the sun was coming up. American planes, small ones—maybe they are taking pictures—they would be flying all around the island. They would turn off their engines so that you wouldn’t hear them coming, and they would come lower and lower. I would wave to them. They didn’t wave back; they just looked. Then they would start their engines back up and fly away. My mother would be so mad at me. She would say, “If we all die here because of your craziness I’m going to spank you!” I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t. I just said, “Sorry, Mama.”

One morning about seven o’clock, my cousin, Rosario Omar, saw somebody running toward our cave. He ran forward, then he threw himself down on the ground. Then she saw another one do the same. Then they stayed down, because there were Japanese above our cave and they started shooting at these men. They were American Marines. We just kept watching. Then one of my brothers-in-law, Joaquin Taisague from Guam, told everybody to keep silent. He said, “Those people are Americans. They are going to save us.” The Americans kept coming; there were about five of them. Then they started shooting over us at the Japanese. Then Joaquin stood up and ran toward the Americans. Somebody from above us shot him in the leg, and he fell down and stayed down. Then a Japanese soldier threw a grenade and it landed just in front of our cave and exploded. Fortunately, none of us were killed, but some were wounded. Another of my brothers-in-law, Joaquin Sarapou, was hit in the fleshy part of the chest and the back of his shoulder, near the neck. But because he was so scared, he didn’t feel any pain. Then my brother-in-law, Joaquin Taisague, who had been shot in the leg, got up and ran to where the Americans were.

When the hand grenade exploded my sister, Rosiana, was hit just behind the right ear and she fell back. Blood and white stuff came out—her brains. Her son, my nephew, was about three years old, and he was hit in the upper right arm and his hand was broken. My cousin Florencia took him and ran to where the Americans were. I tried to run too, with my mother, but she didn’t want to leave my sister, so I ran by myself. At the same time, the Americans were running toward us. Then they threw themselves on the ground again and signaled us to do the same. I did, and as soon as I lay down the Americans started shooting again. I was shaking all over because of all the guns shooting.

After the Americans killed all the Japanese that were above our cave they brought my mother, my aunt Josepa, my brother-in-law Jose Camacho and his son Simeon, and my sister who was wounded, out of the cave. They put my sister, Rosiana, on a stretcher. She couldn’t talk; she couldn’t move. Tears were coming down her face. They gave her medicine to save her life, but there was nothing they could do. Her brains were coming out. A priest prayed for her while we were waiting for transportation. About thirty minutes later two big trucks came and took us to Camp Susupe. My mother was crying because she thought the Americans were going to kill us. We never saw my sister again. We assumed that she died, and the Americans buried her on that hill. My nephew also died about a week later, and we buried him in Susupe.

(From “Carolinian Elder,” by Felipe Iguel Ruak, in Bruce M. Petty, Saipan: Oral Histories of the Pacific War. Published in 2002 by McFarland & Company, Jefferson, North Carolina, and London. Used by permission of Mr. Ruak and Mr. Petty.)