I found out today that on Wednesday May 11, 2010 Frank A. Dunlap, a survivor of the Bataan Death March had passed away. Mr. Dunlap was 88 years of age.
I was honored at being able to meet and speak with Mr. Dunlap back in May of 2010 when I flew down to Myrtle Beach, SC for a presentation. Mr. Dunlap had let it be known to a few close friends that he wished he still had his uniform, so that he might be buried in it.
Per an email from CB Anderson, well over a year ago....
"His final request is to find him a uniform (hopefully.. .dress uniform) to be buried in. He really wants to be buried in his Army Air Force uniform."
You see, at that time, Mr. Dunlap knew he wouldn't be around much longer to continue educating the young and old about our freedoms for which he fought so very hard for. He had cancer.
In an email dated May 12, 2011
Dear Friends
I received a call yesterday afternoon from Bill DeVaughn of Rolling Thunder, SC Chapter 3, to tell me that Mr. Frank Dunlap had passed away at 88.
I met Mr. Frank on the first WWII Veterans Flight from Myrtle Beach, SC on a trip I assisted Jack Platt organize and fund, with the help of my radio station, WPDE-TV 15 and St. James High School. I took Mr. Frank on another trip to Washington, D.C. and sat down with him many times. I was proud to know Mr. Frank and proud to have him as a friend. I can never thank Mr. Frank enough for the help he gave me with the "demons of war" that continue to haunt me.
During two of my talks with Mr. Frank, I brought a tape recorder and tried to capture the story of his survival on the Bataan death march and his other POW travels. I have attached that story, so even if you didn't know Mr. Frank, you can understand what he and other Veterans of WWII dealt with.
My best remembrance of Mr. Frank was being at Arlington National Cemetery, coming down the hill from the Kennedy Gravesite and stopping for a break. A gentleman with two young boys asked me where my dad was at during WWII. When I told him that Mr. Frank was on the "incomprehensible" Bataan Death March, he asked me if his boys could have a picture with him. When he brought them over, he said to his sons...."boys, I want you to meet someone and have your picture taken with a real American Hero"....that "hero" may be gone now, but he has given me memories that will last my life.
I have attached the story [see below] I did on Mr. Frank.....please read it...it is history of an "American Hero"....stuff they don't teach at school!
God Bless
Lou Krieger
Editor's Note: Later, I will write about my visit to Myrtle Beach, SC and time spent with "Mr. Frank" as I was told to call him.
For today, I ask that you take the time to read "The Sgt. Frank Dunlap Story" and watch a video found here. We truly have suffered a great loss with the passing of another hero. Let us honor his service and sacrifices by reading, remembering and passing his story to others.
What follows is:
The Sgt. Frank Dunlap Story
My name is Frank A. Dunlap; I was born just outside of Greensboro, North Carolina. I spent my younger days, during the depression working on my father’s dairy farm in Anson County, just outside Waynesboro, North Carolina until October of 1940 when I signed up for the military at age 17. My father died that year and I tried working in a hosiery mill to help support the family, but I didn’t like that work after farming. So one day I came home from work and told my mother I was going into the service, like many others were doing during the depression. I was inducted into the Air Force on April 1, 1941 and I was sent for training at a base just outside of Savannah, Georgia. The base I was assigned to, Hunter Field at Camp Stewart a brand new airfield, and my group was the first to be trained there. My MOS (military occupational status) was in the “ordinance division” handling high explosives, loading a minimum of 2,000-pound bombs onto the aircraft. After 7 months of training, we received our orders to move out, we didn’t know the final destination at that time, but we did know we were headed to the island of Guam in the Pacific. Once we arrived in Guam, the Captain said our final destination would be the Philippines, and we arrived at Manila, the Capital City on Thanksgiving Day, 1941. Upon our arrival we
immediately began unloading the ship, we also served Thanksgiving dinners to the civilians who were working with us at the dock. Little did we know at the time that within just two weeks, the Japanese would bomb Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941 and we would also be in a fight for our lives in WWII.
Since we were across the International Dateline, it was actually December 8, 1941 in the Philippines when the Japanese launched that attack. On their return from Pearl Harbor just 2 ½ to 3 hours later, those same Japanese bombers were now pounding us at Manila. Meanwhile, at the north end of the island, the Japanese 14th Army under General Masaharu Homma started the invasion of the Philippines landing ground troops at Batan Island (not Bataan) off the north coast of Luzon. It was the last coordinated effort of the U.S. Far East Air Force, two B-17’s and their fighter escorts attacking these advancing Japanese forces, but with very limited results. The Naval Forces under the direction of Admiral Thomas C. Hart withdrew most of the United States Asiatic Fleet because of heavy damage sustained at the Naval facilities at Cavite. The only ships left were submarines that were no match at all for the superior Japanese forces. It was on December 22, 1941 that the real attacks began when General Homma landed more than 40,000 troops and artillery support at Luzon’s Lingayen Gulf. The Japanese would ultimately land more than 100,000 troops at various points on the island in a battle the Japanese expected to last only 4 to 6 weeks. We remained just outside of Manila in tent camps for about 17 days, and then I think it was December 12, 1941 we were ordered to move out to our airbase, Clark Field, just north of Manila, across the bay from Corregidor.
As the situation worsened on the island, President Franklin Roosevelt ordered that General Douglas MacArthur be relocated from Corregidor to Australia on March 12, 1942, as the Supreme Allied Commander of the South West Pacific area. On his departure, General MacArthur turned over control of the forces in the Philippines to General Jonathan Wainwright. Before MacArthur’s departure, we received orders to move all of our equipment and our front lines away from the airfield and into the jungle, which was on Bataan Peninsula, and continue our stand against the assault by the Japanese Army. No matter what you were trained to be in the military, we all became Infantry Soldiers in the fight to win. It was on March 20, 1942 when General MacArthur, speaking in Australia gave his infamous “I came out of Bataan and I shallreturn” speech. By March 28, 1942, the Japanese, who had sustained heavy losses battling the U.S. and Philippine forces, launched an all out assault on the island again. We continued our fight against those 100,000 Japanese troops, with very few infantrymen and kept them at a standstill fighting from the jungles. On April 8th, the U.S. 57th Infantry and the 31st Infantry Division were overrun by the Japanese forces along with the U.S. 45th Infantry Regiment. Out of food, water, ammo and troops suffering from dehydration, no medical supplies, dysentery, malaria and more, Luzon Force Commander General Edward King informed General Wainwright of his decision to surrender to the Japanese on April 9, 1942.
The surrender by General King included 11,800 American and approximately 58,000 Filipino forces; tired and emaciated to the point they could almost no longer lift their weapons. However, before the surrender the troops were ordered to destroy all of their equipment, weapons and any ammunition that could fall into the hands of the Japanese forces. After fighting against the Japanese for months, especially the 31st Infantry Division, on the front lines the entire time, now overrun by the Japanese, we had no choice but to give up. We didn’t know what lay ahead for us, but the members of our Infantry Divisions were already experiencing the brutality of the Japanese forces.
When we surrendered, we were told to assemble at a little airfield located on the Southern tip of the Bataan Peninsula called Mariveles Airfield. It was there that we would officially surrender to the Japanese and on that airstrip some 70,000 soldiers grouped as the Japanese soldiers moved in. When the Japanese moved in, we were stripped of all personal belongings, watches, rings, pictures, etc., the only thing left was the uniforms we were in and the clean outfits we saved for something other than surrendering. It didn’t take us long to find out that the same Japanese soldiers we surrendered to were the same Japs we had been fighting all along and they were not happy with our “stand” against them. If you were found to have any Japanese souveniers of war, they pulled you off to the side and beheaded you; if a ring didn’t come off your finger, they cut your finger off to remove it. A rifle butt to the gut or the head was the order of the day along with severe beatings for non-compliance with any orders the Japanese gave. Any resistance at all to the Japanese was met with either a bayonet or a .25 caliber pistol shot to the temple. These Jap’s were really pissed off that it had taken them so long to win the battle they were told they would win in 4-6 weeks and took over 4 months. We now bore the brunt of their anger, frustration and losses for the valiant stand our forces put up; little did we know what our Japanese captor’s planned for us, this was only and introduction as to the horror that would follow. Under the rules of the Geneva Convention, none of this brutality was supposed to have taken place, but these Japanese soldiers were “radicals” and like the “Kamikaze Pilots” they had no regard for loss of life, only their Emperor and their mission.
On April 10, 1942, the death march of Bataan began for me from Mariveles, Bataan to my final destination, Camp O’Donnell to the north. The march was some 65 miles north of where we assembled and lasted anywhere from 5 to 6 days depending on where the prisoners started the route. Without any food or water, dealing with the intense jungle heat, humidity and sun, our troops began the march, a march that would be the last for more than an estimated 15,000 troops. As you can see from the next picture, the condition of our troops after we came out of the jungles from months of fighting, most of us living on C-rations that were limited to about 800 calories a day per man.
To continue reading the story of how Sgt. Frank Dunlap survived the Bataan Death March please go here http://veteransinfo.tripod.com/frank_d.pdf where the entire story is at.
The video may be viewed here http://veteransinfo.org/id32.html where you can also access “The Sgt. Frank Dunlap Story.”
May you forever Rest in Peace Mr Frank knowing you are missed by many and NEVER EVER forgotten!!
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