Bataan Memorial Death March

KABOOM! Uh-Oh! I think I pooped my pants a little bit. Nothing like having soiled running shorts before you’ve even completed the first mile of your marathon. Just kidding, but those starting canons at the Bataan Memorial Death March at White Sands Missile Range, NM were loud. Really loud!. Surprise!

Heading through the misters

Every year I show up before dark, along with thousands of other marchers, to honor the survivors and remember the fallen of the Bataan Death March in the Philippines during WWII. There are always some survivors in attendance as well as members of congress and other dignitaries. This was my eighth year braving the cold, wind, heat, sand and hills of the 26.2 mile course. No matter how much we suffer though, we can never fathom the horrors that these WWII heroes endured. This event, the largest joint military/civilian athletic competition, ensures that the survivors know how much we appreciate their sacrifices. At the time of their march and detainment, POWs thought they were completely abandoned as the following poem attests, 

We're the Battling Bastards of Bataan,

No Mama, No Papa, No Uncle Sam,

No aunts, no uncles, no cousins, no nieces,

No pills, no planes, no artillery pieces,

And nobody gives a damn!

—Frank Hewlett

Bataan participants were very lucky this year because the weather cleared just in time for the race. Days leading up to the event were extremely windy and then driving rain and cold moved in bringing snow to the higher elevations closing the highway through San Augustin Pass near Las Cruces, NM. While it was cold in the morning during the ceremony, the weather turned out to be perfect for the race. The jagged needles of the Organ Mountains were especially beautiful with all the recent snowfall.

The race got started at first light with an unexpected explosion of the Army cannon that I mentioned earlier. After checking my running shorts for "shrapnel", I took off with many other runners and a group of wounded warriors. Various categories of marchers begin after the runners are under way and include military and civilian divisions and heavy (35 lb. pack) and light (no pack). There’s also a non-competitive “honorary” distance which is 14.2 miles for those who don’t want to enjoy the full 26.2 miles of suffering.

Team RWB Eagles gettin' it done!

Click to learn more about the non-profit, Team Red, White and Blue

I enjoyed the first part of my race and ran into several buddies that I hadn’t seen in a while. Kristoffer was competing in the military heavy division with a team from Ft Bragg. We stopped for a selfie and my friend, Brett photo bombed us. I have such a hard time taking selfies that I didn’t notice Brett in the frame so that was pleasant surprise. I’m used to running ultramarathon trail races where I’m mostly alone on the course so I enjoyed having company for a change. With so many participants this year there was no chance of feeling isolated and that’s another reason this marathon is so fun.

Ft Bragg Heavy Military Team won their division

The course was gorgeous this year with the snowy mountains always in view and Mexican gold poppies exploding along the slopes, a result of a very wet year. I felt strong during the first part of the course, but found myself socializing a bit too much and didn’t really concentrate on my pace. I didn’t care though and just had a goal of finishing while enjoying myself especially since I hadn’t fully recovered from running the Old Pueblo 50 Miler several weeks back.

I was averaging about 5.5 mph until I hit the long 1000’ climb up to Mineral Hill. I ran most of it, but took several short walking breaks. We passed by the Hal Cox Ranch Headquarters, a ruin of old buildings from ranching days gone by. An Army Helicopter flew low along the base of the mountains as I toiled up the hill. A large mobile medical center is stationed along this road which is mile 10 and 18. It resembles a M*A*S*H unit complete with large tents, several rows of cots and military ambulances waiting to cart away any participants in need.

Cox Ranch

The level of ability in this event is very diverse. Everyone wants to honor our veterans so I saw all sorts of marchers out there. Young, old, fit, unfit, wounded, lean green fighting machines, families, flag carriers, some adorned in red, white and blue and others dressed in WWII uniforms. One man, Ben Skardon, a 101 year old Bataan survivor marches a portion of the course every year. 

I finally made it to the top of the paved road where I turned onto a dirt route where the poppies were in abundance. A sea of yellow spread out like a blanket with the snow dusted mountains as a backdrop. Just beautiful! I ran some more and finally made it to the high point where I was rewarded with the best view on the course. The rugged peaks of the Organs looming in the distance with the Rabbit Ears clearly in view. 

After taking in the vista I headed down the road at a pretty good clip. A young Air Force ROTC cadet carrying a heavy pack caught up to me so we chatted for a short while. It was his first time running Bataan and he told me that he was cramping and asked if I had any advice. I had some electrolyte capsules in my pack so I gave him some not knowing whether or not they really work at staving off cramps. I use them when it’s very hot and I’m losing a lot of salt through sweat, but today was a cool day. Nevertheless, it seemed to give him the confidence he needed and off he went, pack and all down the slope, into the wild blue yonder.

I eventually made it down too and hit a section of rolling hills that led me back to the paved road I ran earlier. Thousands of marchers were still heading up as I ran down and there was a lot of high fiving and cheering for those of us who were running. I ran hard to make up some time and my feet and toes really started to hurt from all the pounding. If you run long enough though, the pain will eventually move to another part of your body and you will forget all about the original pain because the new pain is even worse. After a few more miles of enduring foot pain, I got a little relief and the pain moved in between my shoulder blades where I felt a sharp stabbing pain like I was taking a bayonet in the back.

Border Patrol keeping marchers safe

Be that as it may, all you have to do in dealing with your running pain is to think about the Filipino and American Bataan heroes who endured 5-10 days of trudging through the jungles of the Philippines with little or no food and water. They were abused along the way by Japanese soldiers as described by Encyclopedia Brittanica: 

Those who dropped from exhaustion or sickness, fell behind, broke ranks to fetch water, or tried to escape were bayoneted, shot, or beheaded. Men who could not rise the next morning to continue were often buried alive or beaten to death with the shovels of the ditch diggers, other prisoners who were forced to carve out graves along the way.

The thought of what these soldiers endured during WWII kept me motivated throughout the race. At around mile 20, I reached the infamous sandpit, a mile long incline through an arroyo filled with deep sand. I passed a marcher with a sign on his back that read:

“In honor of Maj R.B. Blakeslee, 454th Ord Co., 27th Bomb GP. Bataan Death March, Shinyo Maru survivor”

I had no idea what Shinyo Maru was so I looked it up. Shinyo Maru was a Japanese merchant ship used to haul war supplies. In 1944 when American forces were about to retake the Philippine islands, Bataan Death March POWs were loaded into the steamy suffocating holds of Shinyo Maru and other cargo ships to be taken to an area closer to Japan. During the voyage Shinyo was torpedoed killing many POWs and Japanese marines, but some survived and were rescued.

Prologue Magazine writes:

In “Death on the Hellships: Prisoners at Sea in the Pacific War”, Gregory Michno estimates that more than 126,000 Allied prisoners of war were transported in 156 voyages on 134 Japanese merchant ships. More than 21,000 Americans were killed or injured from "friendly fire" from American submarines or planes as a result of being POWs on what the survivors called "hell ships.”

Marchers from all 50 states come to White Sands to honor their relatives which is what makes Bataan “more than a marathon”. Every year that I participate I learn something new about the history of Bataan as well as a little something about myself. The spirit and camaraderie is amazing here!

Once out of the sandpit I was only about four miles from the finish, but time seemed to stand still. I ran as hard as I could passing groups of walkers who were doing the shorter course. The pain in my neck and feet was excruciating, but I knew I was close to the end so I kept pushing my pace. The finish line came into view on my left and I could hear the crowd cheering, but we were running straight past the finish. I passed the 26 mile marker and knew it could only be several tenths of a mile away. At last I saw runners turning and doubling back around towards the finish; so I put it in high gear finishing in 5:15 in clean shorts by the way. Well, mostly clean anyway.

The sandpit

Usually there are survivors who greet us at the end depending on what time we finish, but unfortunately there weren’t any there when I finished this year. This is testament to the fact that we lose Bataan survivors every year and sadly, the time is going to come when they are all gone. They will never be forgotten though; we must keep the spirit alive! Around 8500 marchers and runners honored five survivors in attendance this year — Harold Bergbower, 98; James Bollich, 97; Valdemar DeHerrera, 99; Paul Kerchum, 99; and Ben Skardon, 101.

See you on the Trail