Bataan Memorial

Every once in a while someone will ask me, "What's your heritage?" intending to find out my national heritage from centuries ago. I always respond the same way. "I'm American." The inquisitive individual will allude to the fact that unless you are Native America, which I clearly am not, then we are all immigrants. (I recently saw a statistic that said roughly 40% of Americans today can trace their heritage to the 12 million immigrants who processed through Ellis Island.) I again repeat, "I'm American." My stubbornness begins to irk the interrogator and the conversation inevitably turns to them asking, "Don't you want to know who you are? Where you came from?" This is when I know I have them in my trap. If there is one thing I am certain of, it's WHO I came from and who the people are that shaped me into the person I am today. One of the members of this very small and elite group was Fred G. Templin, my Grandfather.

Today is the 22nd annual Bataan Memorial Death March Marathon. This means little to most, but for myself it has special meaning for two reasons. 1) My grandfather was a survivor of the Battan Death March and 2) My oldest cousin Kevin is participating in the event. Fred will be in my mind, and the minds of the rest of the Templin family today more than most.

For those needing a 5 min history lesson, Wikipedia to the rescue HERE. What Wikipedia won't tell you is what happened after the march. The forced march was followed by weeks and weeks on crammed transport "Hell Ships" and then 3 1/2 years of detention in a POW camp. The harsh treatment of POW's by the Japanese is well documented.

To quantify how these events changed Fred's life and ultimately how that affected my life is difficult, if not impossible. He never spoke about his time as a POW until I was about 10 years old. When he did talk about it, I lacked the maturity and life experience to understand what he was telling me. I will say, however, that learning to value true friendship and the ability to understand what are the important things in life - is simply the tip of the iceberg when it comes to things I learned from him.

I would be remiss if I did not mention Billy D Templeton. Billy and Fred were friends in radio operator school before the US entered WWII and served together in the Philippines when fighting broke out. They would stay together until liberation in 1945 and remain friends for life. In the photo above, Fred is bottom row center with the walking stick, Billy is top, second from the right. The photo was taken at Mukden POW camp in Japan, shortly after liberation of the soldiers. Billy would eventually write a book about their experiences called Manila Bay Sunset: The Long Descent into Hell. Most of what I know about my Grandfather's time in WWII is from this book.

Because of his skill as a radio operator, Fred was not allowed to return home immediately, instead saying for a couple of months manning a radio and aiding in the first stages of the occupation after the end of WWII. He would later choose to spend over a year at Yale learning Japanese to return to Japan and serve a tour of duty there.

The photo below is less than two years later, June of 1947, shortly after my Grandpa and Grandma were wed. I loved hearing my Grandpa tell the story of how he courted Grace from his hospital bed (a whole different story), and then asked her to marry him on their first date. Talk about grabbing life by the horns...

Knowing what the Bataan marchers were forced to do gives complaining a whole new perspective. Kevin called me after he finished the marathon. Even with 50mph winds and a bit of a bum knee, he pushed through to finish the race.