Forgotten Men

From the Diary of Robert Wolfe, QMC, in Cabanatuan.

In a camp of nipa shacks lost deep in the Philippines,

Are a group of forgotten men, with nothing left but dreams.

We’re fighting a greater battle now than the one we fought and lost;

Some came through the awful torture – of days and nights in Hell.

I’m one from Bataan – where many a brave man fell.

But now, it’s not how much you know, or how quick you can hit the ditch,

It’s not the rating you once held, or whether you’re poor or rich.

No one cares who you know back home, or what sort of life you led,

It’s just how long you can stick it out that governs your life instead.

This battle were fighting at present is against mosquitos, fleas, and disease;

But with decent living conditions, we could fight our cause with ease.

Its rice for breakfast, noon, and night, its greens most every day;

We sleep on Bamboo slats at night; we have no better place to stay.

We eat from an old tin pan we were lucky enough to get;

And the medicine we should get, we haven’t seen as yet.

We’re the forgotten men of Bataan, fighting the greatest battle yet;

Fighting for bare existence, though we’re hungry, sick, and wet.

Those of us who do come through, perhaps can prove our worth

And some will tell these strange tales of a terrible Hell on Earth.