Young Refugees – A WW II Vignette

The following story was reconstructed from personal interviews and eyewitness accounts that have been collected in the Far East Currents archive. The retelling of these events may be dimmed by time, embellishments, and faulty memories. Despite these caveats, the descriptions and narratives have been corroborated by other witnesses, and the dates, places and circumstances mentioned are supported by historical evidence that has since resurfaced. (Don’t forget the Far East Currents Macanese Survey.)

Introduction

One of the least documented narratives of World War II was the refugee situation in Macau, one of the most isolated Portuguese territories in Asia. When Japan attacked Pearl Harbor and invaded Hong Kong and the Philippines in December 1941, the neighboring enclave of Macau was declared a “neutral non-combatant” due to an agreement between Portugal’s Prime Minister Antonio de Oliveira Salazar and the Japanese government, so long as the local government provided no support to the Allied forces in Asia. The reality was that Macau offered the only haven from the war for almost one million refugees from China and other European outposts in Southeast Asia. The colony was also a crossroads for exiled British diplomats, the American OSS, and Nationalist Chinese operatives who waged a secret war against the Imperial Japanese army and its military police, the Kempeitai. (Click Here for a more detailed account.)

Under those conditions, life in Macau could be harsh and tedious for many who waited for the hostilities to end. As seen through the eyes of adolescents, however, the realities of war were often mixed with danger and the excitement of new experiences. This is a story of the war from their perspective as experienced one afternoon in January 1945. (1)

A Different Side of War

As they did most days, Basilio (Lilo) Xavier, his older cousin Nuno, and other classmates at St. Luis Gonzaga College sat at hard wooden desks in a classroom on a steamy morning listening to one of Father Henry O’Brien’s lectures. Due to a shortage of space and instructors, the class was made up of refugee Macanese boys from 14 to 19 years of age. Lilo was one of the youngest and shyest in the class. Nuno was the oldest and the leader of the group. On this particular day, several of the boys cast their eyes on the sea of humanity that passed languidly by their windows just outside on the Avenida da Pria Grande, one of Macau’s main thoroughfares. It had become a ritual to divert themselves from the Irish Jesuit’s sometimes tedious lessons.

Suddenly a series of explosions startled them from their stupor, rattling the windowpanes of the classroom. One of the boys pointed across the landscape and shouted that planes were bombing the Macau Aerodrome (officially the “Macau Naval Aviation Centre”), then used as a collection point for supplies by the government and black marketeers.

As if on cue, the entire class jumped from their seats and dashed down the steps to the avenue, running en masse toward the air field. The priest was stunned to silence. A large column of smoke began to rise over the rooftops. People on the street, jarred from their daily routines, stood and watched large planes and escort fighters in terror, barely noticing the twenty-five students racing passed them toward the disturbance. A squadron of bombers, “Americans” one boy yelled, began circling the aerodrome, peeling off one by one to drop their payloads. Father O’Brien gave chase, but once out of breath he stopped and waved to his charges to come back.

No one noticed him. The boys raced up a small hill overlooking the airfield. Crouching down they watched the planes lay waste to several hangers, each exploding in fiery clouds. The site apparently was being used as a fuel depot. Successive explosions rocked the adjoining buildings, shattering glass with each concussion. The diving planes reminded the boys of newsreels they had seen in the local movie house, but now it was real, and the heat of each detonation touched their faces and arms as they watched from half a mile away. In their daze one of the boys remarked that the Allied network must be doing its job. How else would the Americans know where to strike ?

As the bombers finished the run and peeled away, Lilo and the younger boys started heading back to the classroom. But Nuno and some of the others hesitated. They seemed drawn to the burning wreckage and began to walk toward it. Still pumping with adrenaline from what they had just witnessed, they wanted proof to convince their schoolmates, and probably themselves, that what they had seen actually occurred.

Arriving at the air field, they saw smoke and debris littering the area, including hundreds of shiny brass objects scattered around a sentry’s shack at the entrance to the aerodrome. Preoccupied with their discovery, Nuno and the others quickly swarmed the ground, but failed to notice that a small group of fighters continued to circle the area.

In an instant one plane dove toward the field. The whine of the engines caught the boys’ attention, forcing most of them to run for cover. But Nuno didn’t notice them leaving. He was too busy collecting his trophies. In terror, one boy yelled out in broken Cantonese, “Run Doong Doong ! Ya wanna get shot !” The commotion woke Nuno from his trance just in time to see a P-51 flying low over the field, its fifty caliber guns blazing, heading directly toward him. Turning to escape, he realized it was too late, then remembered the shack. Scrambling on all fours, Nuno reached it just in time to dive to the floor and slam the wooden door shut, expecting the worse.

The fighter opened up. Bullets hurled dirt and gravel three feet in the air as the plane continued firing and picking up speed. For the first time in his young life Nuno prayed with all his might. His head pounded. The temperature in the shack made him dizzy. Noise from the approaching plane drowned out his cries. The onslaught and the vibration of metal made a chilling roar that seemed to blot out his thoughts. He sensed this was it.

And suddenly it was over. The fighter had emptied its guns and was off in the distance as fast as it had come. Nuno’s classmates looked up from their hiding places and began running toward the shack, yelling his name. Each hoped they would not be the one to tell his parents that their son had died looking for souvenirs. They found him in a heap, covered in sweat and dust from the battle, but very much alive. Tears and disbelief cascaded over them as they slowly made their way back to school and then to their homes.

The Prize

The next morning Father O’Brien was livid. A bear of a man, the priest admonished the class, reminding them of the dangers, and how careless they all had been. He was especially incensed with the older boys, reprimanding Nuno for endangering himself and the others he led. But even as he shouted, the priest secretly thanked the Lord for bringing them all back safe. Their punishment mirrored his outward anger: 1000 lines for leaving class without permission by the next morning and sweeping out the Jesuit quarters each day for a month.

Afterward Lilo noticed his cousin was strangely silent during the dressing down and stoic about the punishment. Nuno did not protest, or even venture a snide comment to his classmates. This was completely out of character. Perhaps, Lilo thought to himself, Nuno was contrite. Maybe he felt he deserved the punishment, or was just glad to be alive. When Lilo asked him, the older boy remained mum, and walked slowly away from the school before he revealed his hand, literally.

In his palm Nuno held two brass bullet casings from the American fighter. Somehow in all the confusion he had held on to his prize, and had proof to back up the story. “And there’s more where that came from”, he said smiling.

Lilo and the others never doubted him.

Notes:
1 –   Richard J. Garrett, The Defences of Macau: Forts, Ships and Weapons Over 450 Years, Hong Kong University Press, 2010:116. Garrett writes that three bombings occurred in 1945 on January 16, and on February 11 and 25, all from planes on the U.S. Naval carrier Enterprise.

(Don’t forget the Far East Currents Macanese Survey.)