The DuPont Cavalcade of America. Tonight, Edward G. Robinson stars in The Philippines Never Surrendered, the story of guerrilla warfare against the Japanese on Mindanao. From the Cavalcade of America, sponsored by the DuPont Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. Before we begin our play tonight, we want to tell you about DuPont's Speed-Easy wall finish. The new wall paint that you use right over wallpaper or most other interior wall surfaces. Although Speed-Easy is an oil paint, you just thin it with water, then apply with a large brush or roller. In less than an hour, your walls are dry. For less than three dollars, you can refinish the average room. So for your home decoration, get Speed-Easy. It's speedy, it's easy, and it's made by DuPont. A few weeks ago on the Saturday Evening Post, Edward Cooder first told his story of guerrilla warfare against the Japanese on the island of Mindanao. Tonight, that story is told for the first time on the air. The DuPont Cavalcade presents The Philippines Never Surrendered, starring Edward G. Robinson as Edward Cooder. May 5th, 1942. In the shortwave monitor stations of America, in San Francisco and Seattle, up and down the west coast, the engineers hold the tuning dials, trying to bring in the signal, trying to make it louder. Then, they get it, and they hold it. Somebody is calling from the Philippines. Corregidor calling, Corregidor calling, Corregidor, I can't say much. They got us, all around and from the skies. I can't think at all. Everyone is bawling like a baby. They're piling the dead and wounded in our tunnel. My love to Pa, Joe, Sue, and Mac. Stand by, stand by. In San Francisco and Seattle, the engineers wait at the receivers. They wait. And the brute silence of the Pacific flows in. Nothing more from Corregidor. It is as though the sea has rolled over the Philippines. Indian islands have been drawn into the bosom of Japan. What happened thereafter that message died? People were alive in the Philippines. What did they do? What did they think? What happened to the people? People like me, for instance. I'm Edward Cooder and I'm a school teacher. A 20-year superintendent of schools on the island of Mindanao. I'm a small man, not very rugged. I suppose you'd call me scholarly. And in the quiet years of my life, I often talked about the philosophical concepts of human dignity and human freedom. But that dark May day in 1942, there was no place or time for philosophy. There were facts. The Japs were about to occupy the town of Dan Salon and with minutes with less than an hour to spare, I sat in my office. Outside there was the fury of approaching battle. And opposite me, across my desk, sat a United States Army colonel. You've got to make up your mind, Mr. Cooder. The Japs will take this town in less than an hour. Yes, I know, Colonel. Maybe it's the words that bother me. Words? Well, they're strange to me, sabotage, guerrilla. I'm not a soldier. I've never even fired a gun. All I'm asking you to do is to stay here and organize the people. Tell them how to resist. I'm not asking you to fight. Yes, but it seems to me that someone like you... No, my orders are to go to the mountains, establish a center for resistance. And you know the natives better than I do. Yes, I know them and I like them. And they like you. Yes, but telling them to resist means bloodshed, killing, torture. Well, they don't want to live under the Japs all their lives, do they? I don't know. Do you want to? Well, that's a different matter. I know that someday I'll get away from this island. The Murros have to live here. Sure, it's their home. All the more reason for them to fight. Well, it's easy for you and me to say that, Colonel. It's true. Well, it's easy for us to talk about what a man should fight for or die for, but our talk isn't enough. Listen, listen, Colonel. Those guns are real and the people that turned against know they're real. Look, I can't argue any longer. I have to get out of here. But I wish you'd say that you'd try. I'll try. Well, that's enough for me. I know that if anyone can get the Murros to fight, you can. Yes, I'll try. I'll talk to them. But, Colonel, don't expect miracles. Lord knows I didn't expect miracles from the Murros or from myself. The Murros, those brave, wonderful people, small, broad-chested, amandide. We call them the Irishmen of the Pacific. Great people for a story or for a fight, but resistance. After all, the Murros were few and unarmed except for knives and a scattering of rusty rifles. When I put myself in their place, well, how much could I expect of them? And I wanted to keep my promise to the Colonel, but first I wanted a safe place to hide out. So when I walked into the jungle that day, I was looking for a man I knew I could count on, a man named Pendangaman. I sent out messages, but it was a few days before I found Pendangaman. Mr. Cooder, fine thing. It takes water to bring you here again. How are you, Mr. Cooder? Pretty well, Pendangaman. Well, good to see you. This here friend, Malalao. Oh, how do you do? Me good friend with Americans, Mr. Cooder. I'm glad to hear it. Did you get my message, Pendangaman? Yes. Have house for hide you. By mine, Mr. Cooder. Come, come. I'll show you. Well, I hope it's really out of the way. Oh, job never fine. All days when Murro be chased by American police, we fix him up there. American police can no fine, job can no fine. Yes, well, that sounds safe enough. How has it been for you here, Pendangaman? You mean Jacks? Yes. They want no trouble. No want war here. Too busy with Americans far away. So we must attack. Be quiet, Malalao. I know quiet. We must kill them. Mr. Cooder, we call Pendangaman our leader. He'd rather he be leader for flock of chickens. Malalao talk big, but my people no want to fight Jack. Well, they haven't bothered you at all? Oh, Jap captain come this morning, say road blown up. Say bandits blew up road last night. Me Panda to do this, Mr. Cooder. You, Malalao? Yeah. Well, congratulations. Then Jap say, Murro people must repair road. I say no. Must repair. No repair, Jap kill everyone. Mr. Cooder, tell Pendangaman, when are you supposed to repair it? Tomorrow morning, we go where many people other side of town. We no go. Tell him, Mr. Cooder, you American. Well, I know the danger and I don't want to be responsible. But Americans come back, yes? Yes, yes, someday, but I can't promise when. The road is useful to the Japs. Now, if you repair it, you're helping them. If you decide not to repair it... But we must repair. No repair, we'll be killed. Yes, but if you decide not to, you have to know the risk you take and what you're taking it for. Pendangaman. Yes, Mr. Cooder. You remember the American Colonel who was in Dance Island? Yes. Well, he asked me to tell the people here something. Tell them fight? My people no want to... Well, I'm not so sure. Anyway, I'd like to tell them what's needed if they do want to fight. Yes, tell us, Mr. Cooder. Well, I'd rather speak with as many people as possible. You repair the road in the morning? Yes, sunrise. Well, then I'll say a few words to all the people going to repair it. Just a few words before they start. But, please, remember, I don't want to mislead you. Resistance will not be easy. It will mean sacrifice and struggle. It may mean you will have to kill, and perhaps some of you will be killed. We bread people, we kick. We no kill. Well, I'm not trying to tell you what you should do, but you must choose between resistance or possibly a lifetime of slavery under the Japanese. Now, if you decide to resist, you mustn't repair the road this morning. Resistance should begin in ways like that, not working, wrecking trucks, blowing up bridges. Then when the American army comes back... When Americans come back? Yes, when Americans come back. I don't know. We'll be soon. Well, I can't lie to you. I don't know. Maybe two months, maybe a year, maybe two years. But General MacArthur said he will come back. I believe that. Come. Time to fix roads. No, Pandangaman. Mr. Cooder, I... No, fix roads. Why, I am leader here. Pandangaman, Mr. Cooder, I know a way, good way, not to fix road. You know a way? No kill Jap. Oh, no kill Jap. Listen, we go now to road. Start work, we work good, no trouble. Then after a while, crawl in the jungle and... They went to the road to start work and I went along and crouched in the jungle with Manilao and Pandangaman beside the road. There were six Jap guards who handed out picks and shovels, getting light. The Morrow men started digging and clearing the debris from the road. They worked for two hours while the Japs sat and watched. Then Manilao crawled away from my side and disappeared into the deep jungle. And suddenly... The Jap guards ran up and down the road trying to see into the jungle looking for the men who had fired. And when they appeared toward Pandangaman and me, I was cold with fear. But they didn't see us and they wouldn't venture into the jungle. They fired a few shots blind and then waited. In a few minutes... You will continue walking. Go to walk. The men who had fired the gun, they were all dead. You will continue walking. Go to walk. The men went on working. Manilao silently returned to my side. Then after another two hours, he crawled away again. Captain. Yes? We like very much to work for Emperor, but cannot work if all time somebody shoot. Continue working. We were finding these bandits and killing them. We like to work, Captain, but we're not brave like you Japanese. I know, but you must try to be brave. We're afraid, Captain. When you kill bandits, we come back and work. Come, people. We go home. What are you thinking, Pandangaman? Trouble coming. Why? This. We work for Jap. They make very nice for us. But Jap know we hate them. So if we know work and if they win war, Mr. Kuda, I think they will kill us all. They're not going to win the war, Pandangaman. Maybe. Long time Americans go away. What happened to them? Maybe they don't want fight no more. You know that's not so. When they come back, Mr. Kuda? When? I don't know. I've been thinking, you know, ever since what happened at the road, I know your people do want to resist. All they need, Pandangaman, is a real leader. I know. Can't tell them to fight. Well, you ask when the Americans will come back. That depends on many things and partly on how much trouble you make for the Japs here. It's your freedom, too, Pandangaman, and I've come to this conclusion. Sabotage is not enough. It's time for the Moros to kill Jap. You, Mr. Kuda? Now you sound like Manilao and my wife Maruki. Maruki, too? Well, soon every Moro must decide, no matter what you, their leader, may think, that to have their own country, to be free, they have to fight. Music You are listening to Edward G. Robinson as Edward Kuda in the Philippines Never Surrounded on the cavalcade of America, sponsored by the DuPont Company, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. Music As we come to the second act of our play, Edward Kuda resumes his story of the building of a native underground movement on Mindanao during the Japanese occupation. Music After I knew the Moro people were ready to resist the Japanese, I became a man of action, trying to bring together the threads of courage, ingenuity, and strength I'd seen in the Moros, trying to fill the gap left by the weakness and the hesitations of their leader. Days passed and weeks, and then I saw that the temper of the Japs began to change. I sensed that they were getting pushed back somewhere, that the war wasn't going too well with them, because fear crept back into Japanese paces and they began to make mistakes. How much for this? Twelve pesos. Here is the money. You'll give me only five pesos. You will take five pesos. No, sir. Twelve pesos. Don't tell me what to pay. Here. You are a lucky man. You'll get anything. Next time, maybe you'll know better. Well, what are you going to do? Do? Nothing, Mr. Kudar. You let the Japs slap your face? You, one of the Moro people? Me want to kill, but cannot. Why? If you don't, you're a man without honor. Tandangamon say no killing. Yes, but if you do kill him, you will be honored and named by your grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Wait. Wait, Mr. Kudar. I go. Sir. Good, Captain. So, you speak to me? Sir, I worthless man. I don't want to take more than five pesos. Next time, you'll know better with Japanese. Yes, sir. Sir, you tell me, please, what is great navy ship there in harbor? That one? Yes. Oh, fine ship of Japanese Imperial Navy. Named Kachik... So, so, clean-trudy-trud. Your Jap cannot slap Moro. Even you have many guns. Tandangamon, where are man who is killing my soldier? Don't know. Where is this man? Tandangamon, three months ago, I am to giving order. All nays must be turn over to Japanese army. How this man having his knife? Don't know how this man have knife. Tandangamon, tonight we are going to every house. Give the people order to leaving all knives into away of their homes. We are picking up knives tonight. Good-bye. Tandangamon. You can come out now, Mr. Kudar. He got. You're not going to let them take the people's knives, are you? What can I do? Tandangamon, don't you see they are afraid of you? The Americans must be closer than we think. Quiet. My wife coming. Say nothing about it. So, you still sit here like woman? From you only insult. More and more Jap kill our people, beat, steal, and you sit here like old lady with no teeth. Tandangamon, you can't let the Japs take your people's weapons tonight. Call them together. Let them decide if they want to fight. That night in the darkness around Tandangamon's house, the people sat and talked. I moved among them, listening, putting in a word here and there. They all had their rifles with them. They had come expecting to fight. And yet Tandangamon sat without speaking, and I knew he wouldn't give the command. Then it happened. A young man came up to Tandangamon. Tandangamon, many Japanese coming up road, coming this way. Oh, not so good. Everyone, Japanese coming. Put down rifles, then sit. Everyone. I could feel the nervousness rising like a fog from the people. All eyes were on the road that passed Tandangamon's house. But Tandangamon was turned a little away, and he seemed to be hardly breathing. We heard the troops approaching. And then from another direction out of the jungle, a man came running. Everyone turned to see. It was Manilao. Tandangamon, both the wreck and shore. Japanese soldiers swim in water. American submarines, Tandangamon. American submarines sink Jap's ship offshore. They come back, Tandangamon. We fight now. We fight now. Well, now what do you say, Tandangamon? Quiet, Maruti. Bah! You old woman. I go after them with my knife. I will lead people. Quiet, Maruti. Quiet. Mr. Kuda, go to your house before they see you. All right, I'll go. You can see what your people want, Tandangamon. If you're really their leader, you have to prove it. Now is the time to act. I went into the house and watched. I saw the soldiers pass the house and vanish over the little hill road. And then I saw Tandangamon get to his feet. I knew now he felt the pulse of his people and he was ready to lead them. The thing that happens over and over in human history had happened in Minnaw. The people needing a leader had created one out of their own strength, their own fierce needs. Tandangamon stood up and the Moro people rose without a word and followed. Moving noiselessly, the people spread out behind him and started running. I ran out of the house behind them. They filled the jungle on both sides of the Jap column and then caught up with it. For a moment, we could only hear the sound of marching. And then... From that night on, the Japanese on Minnaw died in many ways. By bullet, by stone, by knife and by rope. The Japs had swallowed up the Philippines and the feast had killed them. Well, my job's down here, Tandangamon. You leave us now, Mr. Kudan? Yes, I... I think I should go to the mountains and join the Colonel. The people are organized now and they have their leader. Yes. Tell Colonel we fight for him. We make way for American to come and tell him come soon. I'll tell him and he'll thank you and I know, Tandangamon, you've made yourselves a great people in this war. You will not be forgotten. Well, Kudan, how's it seem being a hero? Oh, I don't know that I am, Colonel. I told you I was no soldier. Maybe not, but you certainly started things popping down there. Well, they're fighting, yes. Poisoning Japs, knifing them, throwing them off cliffs. They're organized, Colonel, but I still haven't fired a rifle. Remember, I told you that wasn't important. Yes, the Muros are fighting like people who deserve their country. You know what I mean. To me, that's a fine thing. I know. Colonel, your answer from MacArthur's headquarters, sir. What's it say? General MacArthur's sending us up. We're to meet it on the coast. Here are our full directions, sir. Good. Well, Kudan, I guess you're going home. On that black day of May 1942, they listened in Seattle and the radio was dead on Corregidor. But in February 1945, I lay in a New York hospital and beside me the radio was tuned to the same wave band. The voice had returned to Corregidor. To Manila and to those islands, the speech of free men had returned and it soared like strong birds across the long Pacific, soared in the voice of General MacArthur. President Osminya, my country has kept the faith. On her behalf, I now solemnly declare the full powers and responsibilities under the Constitution restored to the Philippine Commonwealth. We come here as an army of free men, dedicated with your people to the cause of human liberty. Manila has regained her rightful place as a living and heroic symbol of democracy. The level voice of Douglas MacArthur rose out of the sea and the silence of the sea was rolled away. And I knew then what I had stayed behind to prove. The Philippines never surrendered. Our thanks to you, Edward G. Robinson, and to all members of tonight's DuPont, Cavalcade cast. Now, here is Jane Whitman. As each day brings us nearer to the end of war in Europe, we turn our thoughts westward, westward to Japan and currently to San Francisco, where at the United Nations Conference, men of goodwill are striving that world war may never come again. Lamont DuPont, chairman of the board of the DuPont Company, recently said about the San Francisco Conference, as an official of an American company which, like the great majority of American industry, has in two world wars been forced by events to turn its peacetime production to making the materials of war, I should like to say of the United Nations Conference on World Organization in San Francisco that I hope with all my heart that the nations which are winning this conflict will be successful in perfecting a workable way to secure the future peace. Obviously, we cannot wave a full functioning world organization into being at the point of a magician's wand and guarantee by that act that there will never be war again. It is a harder task than that, for I can appreciate that it will be difficult to agree upon the best method of preserving the peace. By that token, it must be undertaken immediately and cooperatively, and I hope the United Nations will find it in themselves to reach a constructive agreement and exert the long-term ceaseless effort necessary to make the machinery effective in the amicable settlement of international questions. It takes only one nation to make a war. It takes many nations working together to make peace in the world. I take pride in the part our company has played in World War I and World War II in helping provide the physical weapons to enable ourselves and our allies to defeat those nations that have twice in one generation made war on the civilized world. But in each case, it was a contribution to the national welfare, inspired by a sense of responsibility and not one that we would have sought for business reasons. We have wanted, and we want now, a world at peace. This is not a new attitude on the part of the DuPont Company. Time after time, during the Civil War, on the occasion of the disarmament conference in 1921, and on various other occasions, responsible offices of this company have made it clear that not only the strong natural sympathies of its management, but also the plain business interests of the company lie overwhelmingly in the direction of the continued maintenance of world peace. We prefer, both for selfish and humanitarian reasons, to do the economic work of an industrial company in a world of peace and not the uneconomic work of a world at war. This is our desire, too, for the future. That is why my hope for the successful outcome of the meeting is deep and strong. No organization that comes from the deliberations at San Francisco will mean that the United States or our allies can automatically cease to rely on their own resources to protect their ultimate security. But I believe it has been demonstrated that no nation can of itself be secure and that the Peace Time Association, politically, economically, and scientifically, of the nations now cooperating to win this war, offers the best chance that we shall not have to do it all over again in another quarter of a century. I hope the United Nations Conference will succeed so that the fullest resources and genius of American private enterprise can be turned soon and from then on to producing for peace and to creating the post-war jobs that all of us so urgently want." These words of Lamont DuPont express the hope of all of us in the DuPont Company, whose peace time work provides you with better things for better living through chemistry. Next week, the DuPont Cavalcade will bring you the story of an attractive young illustrator who suddenly found a way to use her talent as an artist in a personal crisis brought on by the war. Our play is called Artist to the Wounded, and our star will be the charming screen actress Geraldine Fitzgerald. Edward G. Robinson may be seen currently in the international production Woman in the Window. The music for tonight's DuPont Cavalcade was composed and conducted by Robert Ambruster. Our Cavalcade play was written by Arthur Miller and was based on a Saturday evening post series by Edward Cooder and Pete Martin. This is Frank Graham inviting you to listen next week to Artist to the Wounded, starring Geraldine Fitzgerald on the Cavalcade of America, brought to you by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware. This is the National Broadcasting Company.
