Bob Mailheau / Submitted by Bob Mailheau
BOB MAILHEAU
Age: 88
Born: Nov. 12, 1921
Hometown: Los Angeles
Residence: Palm Desert
Military branch: Army Air Corps
Years served: 1940-1955
Rank: Captain; retired as a lieutenant colonel.
Family: Wife Anne; three children, Donna Hawkins of Reno, Nev. and Phoenix, Tom Mailheau of Camarillo and Kathryn Mailheau of Santa Barbara
About this series
Staff writer Denise Goolsby will profile desert veterans from World War II through the end of 2010 — the 65th anniversary of the end of the war. Contact her at (760) 778-4587 or via e-mail at denise.goolsby@thedesertsun.com
Coming tomorrow
U.S. Army veteran Hugh Gooderum Jr. of Cathedral City.
LEARN MORE: Read about other Coachella Valley residents who served in World War II at mydesert.com/wwii.
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U.S. Army Air Corps veteran Bob Mailheau survived the Bataan Death March.
The horrific 60-mile trek through the scorching jungle involved 75,000 U.S. and Filipino troops, resulting in an estimated 11,000 to 18,000 deaths.
Wide-ranging physical abuse and murder by the Japanese accounted for many of the deaths — beheadings, throat-cuttings and random shootings. Starvation and untreated illnesses also were responsible for the high number of fatalities, according to historical reports.
Mailheau didn't stay around long enough to experience the brutality.
“Guys were dropping left and right, and nobody was doing anything about it,” he said. “Everyone was weak. I was getting to the point where I didn't think I could make it much longer. I decided to make my escape.”
When the prisoners stopped for a short break on the 10th day, Mailheau slipped away.
“I just slithered like a snake into the rice paddies and kept going,” he said.
In early 1941, Mailheau, a member of the 2nd Observation Squadron, was stationed at Clark Air Base on Luzon Island in the Philippines.
“At the end of the summer, we all got our orders to carry our rifles and sidearms no matter where we went,” he said. “We always kept up with the war in Europe, and it didn't look good. It was no secret the Japanese were making efforts to scare the daylights out of us, or get rid of us.”
When they got word that Pearl Harbor had been attacked, the men gulped down a quick breakfast and hustled to the air field.
About 20 pilots flew their P-40s to the tip of Luzon, then landed in an old auxiliary air field on the southern tip of Bataan Peninsula on Luzon.
“All of a sudden, I heard this roar and looked up in the sky to the west,” Mailheau said. “The sky was loaded with bombers. I hollered to start the siren and I yelled, ‘Take cover! Take cover!' I headed for a trench. Boy, I'm telling you the fireworks started. They were bombing us left and right. The bombs kept falling and falling.
“The minute that let up, the fighter planes started coming in.”
The Japanese bombed Clark Air Base less than 10 hours after attacking Pearl Harbor.
“It finally let up,” he said. “Everybody was just sitting around shaking their heads and couldn't believe what what we'd went through.”
There was nothing much left of the airfield — all the planes had been destroyed — and it wasn't safe to hang around in the event of another attack.
“We headed to the foothills until we got orders,” Mailheau said.
The men soon were told to evacuate to Mariveles, where the planes were told to go.
Mariveles was at the southern tip of the Bataan Peninsula — adjacent to the island of Corregidor.
Across the island, north of the peninsula, Japanese troops invaded Lingayen Gulf.
“The Japanese landed their major force just a couple of days after the bombing,” he said.
Not more than 20 U.S. planes made it safely to the auxiliary base in Mariveles.
Because of the airplane shortage, the men of the Army Air Corps found themselves on the front lines.
“They immediately organized us into infantry units,” he said.
As the Japanese troops moved south, U.S. and Filipino army troops formed a line to defend against the advancing enemy.
Armed with a World War I-era Springfield bolt-action rifle and a .45-caliber revolver, Mailheau was assigned to “sniper duty.”
“We were looking for snipers and troops coming in on flat boats,” he said.
When members of the Filipino army began coming back through the line, “all shot up,” Mailheau said. “It wasn't long after that it was evident we couldn't hold out. We were running so low on everything, including food.”
The troops' commanding officer put out the word to cease fire and surrender on April 9.
Mailheau said some of the men, including himself, attempted to sneak through the Japanese line to avoid capture.
“I was loaded with ammunition,” he said. “I was trying to get through the line. I was supposed to meet a couple of guys I was on the trail close to the rendezvous place, and I ran right into these Japanese. I immediately dropped my rifle and put my hands up.”
He was stripped of other military gear and ordered to walk back from where he came.
“Fortunately, they didn't try to hurt me or beat me up,” he said.
Thousands of troops were rounded up.
“They started us marching in groups of 40 or 50,” he said. “We were heavily guarded. At that point some of our boys were already half-starved, and everybody was thirsty.
“Once we got started, it was touch and go,” he said. “A lot of our guys didn't make the first night. Most everybody had malaria. That in itself is enough to kill somebody.”
After 10 days of marching, he noticed the Japanese guards had “let up a little on us,” he said.
By this time, the weakened troops didn't present much of a challenge for their captors.
The escape
“They had rice paddies all over the place,” Mailheau said. “They provided good cover for anyone getting away.”
Once he ducked out of sight, “I tried to keep low and just kept going and going and going until I was far enough to take a break,” he said.
The sun was going down, Mailheau was exhausted and as he got ready to roll over and close his eyes, he saw two figures in the distance.
“To my surprise, there were two young boys watching me all this time,” Mailheau said.
Mailheau, feeling semi-protected as darkness settled in, rolled over and took a nap.
Later, he heard someone whispering, “Joe, Joe, Joe” to get his attention.
“I rolled over, and I was staring at a couple of Filipino kids in their teens,” he said.
“They said, ‘Don't you worry, we'll take care of you,'” Mailheau said.
The boys got him into a horse-drawn cart and took him to a little hideaway in the fields.
“They took care of me for quite a few days,” he said. “They brought me water, papayas, rice, whatever they had available.”
“They decided to take me to a Catholic convent,” he said. “I definitely needed medicine and looking after.”
Nurses and a nearby doctor treated the now-72-pound airman for about three months before he was finally strong enough to care for himself.
Mailheau continued to hide out, eventually joining a guerilla resistance group made up of fellow Americans and Negritos — the indigenous people of the Philippines — who provided vital intelligence to the U.S. efforts to drive the Japanese out of Luzon.
The outfit became known as the 155th Provisional Guerilla Battalion.
