That’s what happened to me during last weekend’s 81st commemoration of the Battle of Surigao Strait at its permanent memorial site across the street from my house. The gala event honors the historic naval battle of Oct. 25, 1944, in which the Allies defeated the Imperial Japanese Navy, paving the way for MacArthur’s liberation of the Philippines.
It usually attracts high-level dignitaries from all four nations involved: the Philippines, Australia, Japan, and the United States. This year, however, partisan budgetary bickering has forced a US government shutdown, trapping the country’s ambassador in Manila. And so, being the only American within walking distance, I got tapped to hoist the old stars and stripes myself. For which I was awarded a fancy plaque bearing someone else’s name.
I’m kidding; that happened three years ago when I filled in for an American major stuck in Cebu.
This time I got nothing except my name in the program. Oh, and a gift from the Japanese delegation comprising green chocolates, tissue paper, and several tasty pancakes that got eaten before sunset.
I also gained some insights.
Number one: that the Japanese are fast becoming the most dominant foreign celebrants of the annual commemoration. I still remember their first appearance in the person of an unofficial scout scouring the scene for its compatibility with the descendants of defeated invaders. After which increasing numbers came, culminating in this year’s unprecedented attendance by 38 Japanese including Mrs. Naoko Ando, director of a warship museum, who donated enough memorabilia to replace the previous collection blown away by Typhoon Odette.
The event, as usual, featured lots of pomp. Following a “walk for peace” came prayers in Japanese by a retired captain and in English by a Texas-based pastor who was the only other American present.
Then came the earnest flag raisings, each serenaded by its national anthem. A local choir performed Surigao del Norte’s official provincial song. And representatives of each country took part in the somber lighting of a memorial flame.
Later, there was a 21-gun salute, the playing of taps, and a melodious melding of horns from several Naval battleships just offshore. And finally, the long line of dignitaries and representatives made its way down an even longer concrete stairway to gift the ocean with flowers for the dead.
As is true of all Filipino gatherings, this one included many speeches. There were, of course, the usual greetings from an array of local and regional officials. City councilors and naval officers offered thanks for the global harmony that has followed the war. And, in keynote addresses, the commander and deputy commanders of the Philippines’ armed and naval forces of Eastern Mindanao, as well as the assistant defense attaché’ of Japan and Australia’s ambassador to the Philippines, offered heartfelt wishes for continued friendship and peace.
No one asked me to give a speech, which was probably a wise decision. If they had, though, here’s what I would have said:
I’m a baby boomer, a member of the once-enormous generation born in the wake of World War II. My father served in that war as a Merchant Marine officer whose ports of call before Pearl Harbor included the Philippines. So, I grew up with tales of the heroism and tragedy of that age.
Which is why, sitting on the veranda of my house overlooking Surigao Strait, I sometimes imagine what happened here in 1944. For this marks the shared resting place where thousands of young sailors died in a prelude to the tranquility, we all now enjoy. And just as their ships once guarded the gates of Mindanao, I like to think of their souls now guarding the gates of my house. As they do the gates of everyone’s house living in peace.
For which we owe them a debt of gratitude. Followed by a quiet prayer for the endurance of their legacy.
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David Haldane is an award-winning American author and journalist with homes in Surigao City, Philippines, and Joshua Tree, California. His latest book is Dark Skies: Tales of Turbulence in Paradise. This column appears weekly in The Manila Times.
