The Great Raid at Cabanatuan: An Odyssey of Courage and Sacrifice

As brutal as World War II was in its entirety, few events encapsulate the inhuman cruelty of the conflict and, at the same time, the indomitable spirit of those who fought for freedom, like the rescue of American prisoners of war at the Cabanatuan camp in the Philippines. In January 1945, a combined force of U.S. Army Rangers, Alamo Scouts, and Filipino guerrillas carried out one of the most daring and dangerous rescues of the war, penetrating deep into enemy-held territory to save more than 500 American prisoners held in desperate conditions.

When Major Bob Lapham, an American guerrilla leader in the Philippines, made his difficult 30-mile journey through Japanese-infested territory to inform the American command about the prisoners’ situation, he knew time was of the essence. The fear was palpable: the prisoners, many of whom were survivors of the Bataan Death March, could be massacred at any moment, a final act of vengeance by the Japanese as Allied forces closed in. “Sir,” he reported to Colonel Horton White, General Krueger’s intelligence chief, “there is imminent danger that the Cabanatuan prisoners will be massacred in revenge when our units begin to approach the camp.”

The fate of the Cabanatuan prisoners became a priority, and a rescue mission was quickly planned. Colonel Henry Mucci, commander of the 6th Ranger Battalion, was assigned to lead the operation. The mission was clear: penetrate 25 miles behind enemy lines, storm the camp, and rescue the prisoners before it was too late. Colonel Mucci knew it would not be easy. “Never before have American soldiers been called upon to rescue so many prisoners so deep within enemy territory,” he pondered, aware of the gravity of what lay ahead.

Preparations were meticulous. On January 29, under the cover of darkness, the Alamo Scouts and Filipino guerrillas began their approach. A careful advance through rice fields and pastures brought them to the outskirts of Cabanatuan. Private Galen Charles “Kit” Kittleson, one of the youngest Alamo Scouts, led the reconnaissance march, risking his life with every step. The tension mounted with each mile, but the objective was clear: “If I were in that camp,” Kittleson reflected, “I would certainly hope someone would come for me.”

The next day, Mucci’s forces joined Kittleson’s troops in Platero, just a mile and a half from the prisoner camp. The situation was precarious: one wrong move, and the mission could end in disaster. Colonel Mucci, however, was determined. “Remember,” he told his men, “those boys have been in that hell, being beaten and starving for almost three years. If they can’t walk to the river, carry them. We leave no one behind. No one!”

On the night of January 30, the operation began. Under the cover of a P-61 Black Widow flying low as a distraction, the Rangers and Scouts crawled to the camp’s fence, while the guerrilla troops set up roadblocks to prevent Japanese reinforcements from arriving. Tensions were at their peak. Kittleson, who was on the front line, was gripped by a terrifying thought: “What if they had been betrayed and the Japanese were waiting in ambush?”

At 7:20 PM, the operation was launched. Lieutenant John Murphy’s platoon opened fire at the camp’s back gate, while Kittleson and the others attacked the main gate. The noise was deafening, and confusion quickly overtook the Japanese guards. “We fought to survive,” recalled one of the prisoners, “we thought the Japanese were massacring us.” But instead, they were greeted by shouts in English: “You will be saved. Head for the front gate.”

The ensuing chaos was a mix of desperation and relief. Emaciated prisoners, many unable to walk, were carried by the Rangers to the water buffalo carts prepared by the guerrillas. The American soldiers fought fiercely to maintain control of the camp, while the Japanese forces, caught off guard, desperately tried to mount a defense.

The situation at the Cabu River Bridge, where Filipino guerrillas faced an overwhelming enemy force, was equally critical. “They promise to hold off the Japanese for half an hour,” Captain Pajota told Mucci. And they fulfilled that promise with unwavering courage, facing Japanese tanks and soldiers in a desperate battle to keep the escape route open.

In the end, the raid was a remarkable success. More than 500 prisoners were rescued, many of whom were on the brink of death. But the operation came at a cost. “I’ve been hit,” Lieutenant Rounsaville shouted as he was rushed to safety. “Bill, thanks for caring about my ass,” he joked, trying to lighten the tension.

The Cabanatuan operation is a testament to the indomitable spirit of those who fought in World War II. It is a story of bravery, sacrifice, and the unshakable belief that no man should be left behind. “They were not forgotten,” Mucci stated. “We brought them home.”

The Great Raid at Cabanatuan remains one of the most heroic feats of World War II, a lasting reminder that even in the darkest moments, courage and determination can prevail. The memories of those who participated in the rescue, both soldiers and prisoners, continue to echo as a tribute to the sacrifice and resilience that defined a generation.

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