Jungle Patrol - 10. The Strength of the Hills

Jungle Patrol - Chapter 10

"Not only roads and trails but also rivers and esteros
will be patrolled by foot detachments along the
banks or by men in canoes . . ."
--Constabulary Manual

DRAMATIC, indeed, exhausting the last human thrill, are the stories of small detachments of soldiers who carried the white man's burden on Samar Island.

The trails of Samar were honeycombed with suyaes (man traps) and balatics (spring traps), equipped with planquetas (sharpened hardwood single-pointed spears made of palmabrava), with the points smeared with the gum of the dalit or hammaco, a poison always fatal unless a powerful antidote is given immediately, or the abrasion is cut deeper with a sterilized knife blade. The troops waded through heavy growth of ticoco plants which are so active a poison that merely to touch them will produce blisters, itching, and sometimes fever. The mountainsides deeply marked by Nature, serrated and eroded, tumbled into the valley to furnish the path for the mountain torrents which replenished the swift creeks below, their fast-moving current, yellow with mud, thrashing spray high into the air as they tumbled over rocks through the narrow channels.

In these streams the men caught numerous eels. Circling a large boulder in the stream they would stoop down and swing their arms under the side of it and come up with an eel. As it was raised, a native soldier would grab a handful of sand and grasp the eel, at the same time starting for the bank, the soldiers in pursuit taking turns grasping the eel with their hands full of sand, going to the bank where they would kill and skin it.

Dismal, indeed, was the wilderness of Samar. Major Waller of the Marine Corps and a detachment were lost in the jungle for days. Deprived of food and water, harassed by natives, the detachment became separated. Some of the men lost their reason. It is said that one or two of these climbed trees, thinking themselves monkeys, and when rescued refused to come down. As this particular section of Samar was comparatively level land, even climbing trees did not place the observer high enough to see above the labyrinth of brush and forest and give him a sense of direction. Many were the hardships and dangers encountered passing through dark thickets, rugged paths, and narrow defiles in which a small body of men, properly posted, could annihilate the bravest force. The troops waded crocodile-infested swamps or stinking bogs in which the nipa grew, with progress almost impossible on account of the mud and the density of the labyrinth of underbrush. With shoes worn out, clothing torn to shreds, and neck, face, and hands sun-blistered and sore; hiking through merciless downpours of tropical rainfall by day, with no relief at night; sleeping on the ground without shelter--such was the lot of the jungle campaigner. With fear always of tarantulas, blood-leeches, scorpions, and centipedes, and with mosquitoes attacking every available portion of the body, and with snakes of the most poisonous kind, Samar was a real "hell on earth."

The pulajans had organized themselves into a loose confederacy known as "The Carzadores (hunters or mountain men) or Dios-Dios (God or any person or thing passionately beloved or adored) of Leyte and Samar," under the command of Colonel Enrique Dagujob, who had fanned the smoldering embers of insurrection into flame. By education, native talent, and cunning, this leader had acquired control of all the people of a large district and had succeeded in eluding the government forces for many years. To fall into his hands as a prisoner meant certain death, perhaps after days of torture of the most savage nature.

In the early 1900's there were not five miles of road or mountain trails on the island of Samar over which horses could be ridden. American troops never had attempted a campaign in a country more difficult or more dangerous than the interior of Samar--it was indeed a rugged wilderness.

By December, 1904, there were 1,800 native soldiers on Samar, and 16 companies of United States Infantry occupying the coast towns. Eleven officers and 197 enlisted men had been killed in action; 48 officers and 991 men had died of disease; 46 officers had been wounded in action; 768 men had been discharged for disability. Firearms to the number of 7,424, and 45,018 rounds of ammunition had been captured or surrendered to the Constabulary; 4,862 outlaws had been killed, and 11,997 prisoners had been taken. From these figures may be measured the quality of the resistance on Samar.

The soul-trying days and nights on almost impassable trails, with men suffering with dysentery, breakbone and malaria fever, Asiatic cholera, and beriberi, are among the most stirring in our martial history. Constabulary officers commanded a large district with half the necessary number of men, and those men poorly clothed, fed, and armed, with no discipline. They assumed the role of judge, jury, presidente, public health officer, teacher, diplomat, friend and advisor, and jailer; were godfather to myriads of ninos; and retained friendly relations with the two religious factions, Roman Catholic and Aglipiano. They were able to throw off disappointment and discouragement; they had an utter disregard of danger of every kind--on the trail, in combat, a cholera epidemic, or a typhoon. They suffered wounds without attention for days. They were half paid, and still they fought.

No medical men accompanied a command on the march or in camp--a vial of aromatic spirits of ammonia, bandages, and absorbent cotton constituted the stock of drugs.

The rank and file of the Constabulary were enlisted in the morning, and, perhaps, detailed to the firing line in the afternoon without instructions in the use of arms, formations, or maneuvers.

Samar is beautiful in spite of its terribleness--volcanic peaks, forests, lakes, open plains, and mountain ranges. It is subject to all tropical ailments. In Samar, even in the shade and with the glorious sea breeze, one suffers with the heat, night or day, whenever he stirs.

Samar has and will have for many years, a primitive, indolent, sullen, and scowling population.

It was into interior Samar that Captain A. E. Hendryx led twenty men on search for Antonio Anugar. As always, before the expedition started, he had the men form a single line, and from head to foot of the line they counted one, two; one, two. In case of an attack all even numbers faced to the right, all odd numbers to the left. In this manner each guarded each other's back. Years of previous service had taught Hendryx to fight in the same manner and with the same arms as the enemy. His company of Scouts had fought with bolos as the insurgents had fought with carbines and the enemy had not relished this at all. Now, as a Constabulary officer, Hendryx applied the same tactics. His advance points were different from those of the American Army. One man was in the trail some ten feet ahead of the next two men, who were one behind the other. The man in the lead had a captured guide tied by a rope so that he could not take French leave, and the guide carried a long palma-brava pole with which he jabbed the trail for suyaes and balatics. From the very start their hike was necessarily slow, for the trail was honeycombed with suyaes and balatics. Stretched across the trail was coil after coil of bejuco (rattan), thickly interwoven and intertwined with thorny vines.

During the rainy season the trails become torpid rivulets of mud--and this was the rainy season. Bordering the trail, and for miles on either side, were magnificent trees of nara and panao, and palma-brava of great hardness. Overlapping the trail was the palma-areca, yielding the betel-nut; the beetle, or buyo; the St. Ignatius palm (Ignatia Amara) that produces the poisonous Catbalogan nut from which strychnine is extracted. Catbalogan, Samar, was named after this tree. All these grew in close proximity to each other.

Arriving at the foot of the hills Hendryx' force was soon making the ascent of the interior mountains under a blistering sun; then over cogon-covered hills they went and down between precipitous walls hundreds of feet high; then a succession of hogback ascents and descents through the tropical forest, with trailing plants covered with thorns that tore clothes and wounded the flesh. Finally, the column crossed the watershed between the central cordillera plateau, hiked through dripping cogon grass, and emerged from the crisp cool air of that elevated forest-covered plateau onto a projecting cliff, rugged and broken. The sun filtering through the trees cast shadowy patterns of leaf, limb, and trunk at their feet. There were giants of the banyan family with aerial roots forty feet long, securely entrenched in the earth below; and from the depths of the forest came the regular hourly cry of the kalaos (the clock of the mountains).

A trail was traced a long way to a projecting, rugged, rock bound cliff, where it turned sharply to the right. A river snaked its uneven course, replenished by little forking creeks threading their silvery way around hills and through draws; and miles away at the limit of visibility, a placid lake in a clearing, surrounded by bamboo shacks, serenely content--beautiful in Nature's stage setting of tropical shades of green. Carabaos and carts proved some semblance of a road existed, and along the river nets were being cast.

At last after an almost perpendicular climb they came out on the well-known mountain, Hurao O Curao. It was a rugged, almost impassable peak, with eroded sides; and there were trails on narrow walls, where a misstep would hurtle one hundreds of feet below to certain death on the rocks. Among the most prominent peaks on Samar is Mt. Curao, of which it is said that no Spaniard saw it save with a pair of field glasses. Every column of Spanish troops that attempted to explore this central mountain section of Samar was out-fought and out-smarted.

At the foot of the mountain Hendryx paused to rest his men. They were treated to another tropical rain that continued unceasingly until dawn of another day. They plodded on then, up the side, and it was here that they made the acquaintance of Antonio Anugar and his cutthroats.

The guide reported that the pulajans were advancing from the left side of the trail, straight up an almost perpendicular ascent, and asked if they should fire. Hendryx gave the command for the detachment to fire--it being, at that time, in line of skirmishers. The men held their ground, retained their positions, and continued firing steadily as fast as loading from the belt would permit. Hendryx had fired one shot and had his arm ready to fire another, when he received a wound in his right arm about three inches above the elbow joint. The bullet re-entered on the forearm, passed along between the bones of the forearm and came out on the back of the arm at a point more than halfway toward the wrist.

He collapsed in the high cogon grass. When he regained consciousness there were none of his newly recruited men on the scene. He was lying on his right arm and it was with difficulty that he pried his fingers loose from the butt of his revolver. He rose to his knees, and heard a pulajan speaking in the Visayan tongue: "There is an American." Upon this, their officer called to the force--some fifteen in number--to advance. The first man to do so came within twelve or fourteen feet of Hendryx before the latter shot him dead. The pulajan officer stood some thirty-five or forty feet distant and Hendryx fired at him but failed to hit him. The pulajans were endeavoring to surround him at close range so as to use their bolos and daggers. Bent in body, treading high, they came through the grass. In backing up to keep them off, Hendryx fell backwards over a cliff, not recovering until stopped by a fallen log. In falling, he struck his head against the log, rendering himself almost unconscious again.

Knowing that the Pulajans might find him at any moment, he attempted to reload his revolver. He was barely able to do this, his right hand being helpless except for the first finger which he used to extract the empty shells. Although the sounds were confused he could hear the Pulajans on the trail above and he judged there were one hundred and fifty (150) of them. Later, upon evidence that they had left the vicinity, he made his way further down the gully to a bench of stone which received the overflow from a ledge above--the constant dripping having formed a bowl. In this he found sticks, leaves, dirt, and a small amount of stagnant water--of this he drank copiously. Most of this day, he reclined on the ground as his strength was almost gone. On the next day, he tried to make some progress and came within sight of the old lookout tower of Erenas. He was able to get within one-half mile of Erenas that night before darkness stopped him and he could go no further. The next morning he tried to get to the town but was so weak that he was only able to travel forty yards in three attempts. He sat down on the ground with his back against a tree and his loaded revolver in his left hand. He could see the trail that he could not travel. He waited patiently for death. He soon fell asleep but later was awakened by the sound of voices. Looking down through the brush toward the trail, he saw Mr. Witte, a former member of "L" Company, 43rd U. S. Infantry, his old Regiment, and three other Americans. He called to them as loudly as he could, "Is that the Constabulary?" Suspecting a trap, Witte and his men faced in his direction as Hendryx called, "This is Hendryx. Come and get me for I am nearly dead."

Today Captain A. E. Hendryx lives in Indianapolis, Indiana, a gallant survivor of the American jungle campaigns. His story, in many ways, is the story of the conquest of Samar Island. He was a fitting member of the American jungle patrol.

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Transcription courtesy of Ashley Bass.