Re: Living History

Date: April 14, 2004

"Former POW shares history he lived - and lived through

TIMMI TOLER  DAILY NEWS STAFF

He is living history.

And on occasion, he is asked to share his story with others. Tom Craigg, a retired Marine, spent Saturday with a group of Boy Scouts discussing the anniversary of the April 10, 1942, Bataan Death March, from which he escaped.

"I think it went well," he said over a cup of coffee at Helen's Kitchen. "I told them my feelings, what it was like to lose leaders, what it was like to be a prisoner of war, what the punishment was like."

So did the young scouts have any questions for him?

"Nah," said Craigg, smiling slightly. "I think they were too scared to ask me anything."

At 86 years old, Tom Craigg a World War II and Korean War veteran is anything but scary. The Jacksonville resident, who spent 21 years in the Marine Corps, has a gentle manner, an honest spirit and a rock-solid character. He will talk about his beloved wife of 34 years, Allene Toler, who passed away eight years ago. He will talk about his three children: Beverly, Joan and David.

And he will talk about war.

Craigg was among a handful of American servicemen who defended the island of Corregidor and the Bataan peninsula from Japanese armies 62 years ago. He and his 13-man squad gave overhead fire support so a patrol of 75 could withdraw. Craigg and the men were told to stay behind and guard the ammunition and equipment that wouldn't fit on the barge that carried the rest of their company. The barge, they were promised, would unload and return for them.

"It never did," said Craigg.

The Army sent word to the remaining American troops at Bataan to lay down their weapons, head south and surrender.

"There were men coming out of the woods, all over," said Craigg. It became known as the Bataan Death March, a 90-mile passage rife with severe heat, dehydration, beatings and death.

The night of April 11, 1942, Craigg and two other Marines saw a way out.

"It was dark; the Japanese were bringing in heavy equipment. They had the prisoners alongside the road, kind of off in the ditch. It was noisy and confusing. We saw our chance to get out," said Craigg. The trio fled through the woods, grabbed a boat, took it to Corregidor and "joined up with our regular organization."

But the escape only bought them time. Twenty-eight days later, Corregidor surrendered and Craigg was captured again and sent to the Cabanatigoan prison camp. He wouldn't taste freedom again for 40 months.

"They damn near beat us to death. They damn near starved us to death," said Craigg, who held out his coffee cup and pointed to it. "They were supposed to gives us a cup of rice. When we did get that cup, it was never full. They would not give our doctors anything to treat our sick."

Craigg, just over 6-feet tall, weighed a mere 104 pounds by the time freedom entered his life again.

"We were notified that there was no work detail. We were to stay in our barracks and not to roam outside. Every once in a while we could hear explosions. We thought America was bombing. The Japanese were very excited," said Craigg of one day late in May in 1945. "A couple of days later, we were allowed to come out of our barracks. The Japanese commanding officer (of the prison camp) sent for the American senior commanding officer to come to his office. He told him that Japan had surrendered to America and the American armed forces. He said 'you were my prisoner and now I am your prisoner' and handed his sword over."

Craigg said it wasn't long after that they heard a rumble in the sky in the distance - American planes were flying overhead.

"All at once the sky lit up with leaflets coming down telling us who they were and that they were coming back in 45 minutes ... " said Craigg. He said when the planes returned a second time, the sky lit up again, this time with colored parachutes attached to steel drums that were welded together.

"They'd hit the ground and most of them would bust open since they had these wooden plugs," said Craigg of the drums filled with medical supplies, clothing, food, cigarettes and even candy. "The ones that didn't bust open, well, being POWs as long as we had been, it didn't take us long to get into them."

Craigg doesn't mind talking about the past. For years, he had two buddies - Elmer Long in New Bern and "Buster" Keaton in Jacksonville - who understood those memories well. The men met in the Cabanatigoan prison camp. After they returned to the states, they all ended up in North Carolina where Craigg said they stayed in touch as long as they were able to do so. He said goodbye to Long several years ago and, recently, to Keaton.

"As far as I know, I'm one of the only ones left," he said, starring off into the distance. "It's like the past is fading out of this world."

And with that past, the history as well.

"I've gone to Camp Lejeune to talk to young Marines and some of them can't believe what I told them really happened. They don't understand," said Craigg, whose valor at Bataan was awarded 60 years later with a Silver Star and a Purple Heart (Craigg was also awarded the Bronze Star and two other Purple Hearts during his military career).

"When we were captured in the Philippines, we lost every piece of paper. There was nothing left to make history on. The history is just like I'm telling Â… now. It's just memory."

It's part of the reason Craigg keeps telling the stories, the history, the truth, to those who want to know about it, whether Boy Scouts or Marines. He knows it's important. And he knows he'll never forget.

"I've recovered a lot, yes. But my mind was on it every day after I retired. I had a lot of bad nightmares," said Craigg. "I still think about it every day, but it's nothing like it was at one time. I'll never be able to forget it. I'll take it to the grave with me."

© 2004 by Freedom ENC Communications
Jacksonville, North Carolina"