MISSION
POSSIBLE:
TRIBUTE SUCCESSFULLY PUT TO MUSIC
Jan Girand
http://www.roswellwebmag.com
Renowned
composer, Stephen Melillo of Virginia, did what they said was impossible.
He musically composed—emotionally stirring music, interspersed with
actual 1940s era recordings along with visual effects—THAT
WE MIGHT LIVE, the fall of Corregidor, the Bataan Death March
and its aftermath. Melillo and his performers presented the world’s
premier of this powerful musical documentary to Roswell in two performances,
Saturday and Sunday afternoons, the first weekend of April 2004. That
unique opportunity will never again pass our way.
How can anyone put to music–make something good–of such deeply
suffered events so memorably cruel, so personally humiliating, so heart-breaking
to survivors and the families of those sacrificed?
“It
can’t be done,” repeatedly said author Dorothy
Aldrich, survivor Jack Aldrich and others who felt the pathos or personally
endured the then-seemingly-unending event. “It’s
impossible,” they said, when he told them what he
intended to do. And for the first time, that weekend in April 2004, they
came, they saw and they learned that Melillo could do and successfully
did do the impossible.
Jack Aldrich, Bataan
March survivor and ex-POW, and his wife, Dorothy.
The composition, directed by its very passionate composer, lasting 65
minutes, transported listeners back more than 60 years, or briefly froze
them in a time that stood still, occasionally seeming to last forever.
A time that did last forever for those sacrificed along the way, and those
who survived the three-years- and-nine-months in captivity on the march,
in POW camps, in hell ships and in Japanese slave labor–and especially
for those who did at last come home. And too for their families
who anxiously awaited their return, and for those who forever mourned
the loss of those who never came home.
The
veterans of the Bataan Death March, those willing or still able to talk,
softly and subtly say—listen to the still smoldering feelings that
lie beneath their words—that they WERE surrendered. Not that they
surrendered. The surrendering part, like so much else, was done unto them.
Their prideful manhood had decreed, and as soldiers they had been trained,
to never surrender, to fight to the death. And for a seemingly impossible
length of time and against all impossible odds, on Corregidor they heroically
and memorably held off the enemy until finally—to their everlasting
mortification—their commanding officers ordered them to disable
their remaining weapons and surrender.
According to Jack Aldrich, this was the largest group of soldiers in US
history to be surrendered. It was to be many decades before survivors
could speak of it.
The Japanese captured 70,000 American and Filipino soldiers in April 1942,
and approximately 1,800 of those were volunteers from the 200th and 515th
Coastal Guard Artillery Units of the New Mexico National Guard who had
fought on Corregidor. More than half of New Mexico’s National Guardsmen
died on the Bataan march or in subsequent POW camps.
Throughout their captivity, their captors taunted them as cowards, saying
that, unlike them, Japanese soldiers would commit suicide rather than
surrender. However, nearly four years later, when that opportunity finally
came, when a Japanese POW camp commander, in symbolic surrender, handed
his sword to the highest ranking POW officer, the American handed the
sword back, telling his captor he was giving him the opportunity to commit
hari kari with it. The Japanese officer returned the sword to the American
soldier, declining the opportunity to die that day.
Stephen Melillo completed That We Might Live. Then. Now. Always. A Documentary
in Music on 14 August 2003, the anniversary of VJ Day, and copyrighted
the work on 11 September 2003.
The evening’s composition began with recognition by Drew Jordan—NOTE council president, Goddard High School music student and one of the band’s trumpeters—of some of those who made the production possible. He also introduced the 500-pound remnant, lovingly called “the Chunk,” of the 9-11 destruction of the World Trade Center Twin Towers. The audience would later see it gently used as a musical instrument during the production, subtly tying in the current events in Iraq with those of World War II.
“The Chunk”—500-pound
remnant of the World Trade Center from the 9-11 attack upon the USA—
used as a musical instrument in THAT WE MIGHT LIVE.
Dr. Jim Humphreys, Roswell High School Band Booster president, led the Pledge of Allegiance and introduced Lt. General Knowles, 32-year veteran of three wars—World War II, Korean and Viet Nam—repeatedly decorated, including with four distinguished service medals, a purple heart, two distinguished flying crosses, the bronze star and the silver star. He was also recognized, one of only seven Americans ever to receive the honor, as recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor. Knowles had also been an elected New Mexico state representative, a position he held for 16 years.
Lt. Gen. Richard Knowles,
veteran of 32 years and three wars.
Knowles
read an essay, sometimes funny, always poignant, explaining all the things
that a soldier is.
Off and on during the evening’s performance, the band and choral
members were softly bathed in rose, orange or lavender light.
Throughout the documentary, live music and recordings were superbly interwoven.
It was often difficult to know which audio effects were created instrumentally
and vocally, and which came from 1940s era recordings; such was the skill
of composer and musicians.
The
documentary began, accompanied by what sounded like a haunting lone Indian
windpipe, with “El Corrido de Lorenzo Ybarra Banegas,” (the
recording of) the aging voice of Lorenzo Banegas, speaking of the price
of freedom and his experiences at Corregidor and Bataan and, despite all
that, his continued patriotism and love for his country. Banegas and Reuben
Flores, both now deceased, often wrote and told corridos--Hispanic stories
or ballads accompanied by music--for their veteran compadres of the 200th
and the 515th. Both of them, Bataan survivors and Clovis residents, are
now deceased.
According to Dorothy Aldrich, after the attack on Corregidor, the Army
National Guard's 200th Anti- Aircraft Coast Artillery was split into two
regiments-- the one original named plus the 515th.
As Banegas’ voice faded away, Mike Lee, Goddard High School band
director, sang “El Rancho Grande,” accompanying himself on
a guitar. Then, as those carefree strains also faded, the audience was
startled, shaken, nearly blasted, by the powerful, ominously stunning
music, “Oppression,” with its many sounds of war.
Radio static and Morse code signals, a live bugle playing cavalry, and more Morse code signals continued intermittently with recordings of Franklin D. Roosevelt’s “Neutral Nation” and Winston Churchill’s “a day that will live in infamy” speeches. Then came “Taps,” first by individual buglers, their lone silhouettes projected by spotlight onto screens on either side of the auditorium, and then by choral members.
Meanwhile, Back in America, the audience heard “Echoes from
the Musical Era,” a medley of portions of actual recordings, complemented
by radio static, from the 1940s: “Remember Pearl Harbor,”
“Goodbye Mama,” “Slap,” “Remember Pearl
Harbor,” “ You’re a Sap,” “Pass the Ammunition,”
“We Did it Before” and “Fools Rush In.”
Again, powerful music, a blast from the past, overwhelmed the audience, with “Behold the Enemy: Invasion.” Along with the rumblings of war, portions of the music were reminiscent of aircraft roaring in the distance, bombs dropping, interspersed with strains of Japanese music. And, subtle but the most dramatic and emotion-stirring moment of the entire performance: an illuminated white flag, also silhouetted by a spotlight, was raised to the ceiling above the musicians, where it remained until almost the end of the musical documentary.
The white flag is
run up to the ceiling above the performers.
Many
of the audience wept hearing a static-accompanied recording of Lt. Stroebing’s
desperate but heroic Morse code messages, along with his verbal translations,
from Corregidor before its fall, begging for Allied help all while knowing
help would never come in time. Then came music simulating sounds of planes
overhead along with Morse code signals and other musically rendered sounds
of war. Lt. Stroebing was heard commenting, poignantly, ironically, about
“General Wainwright, a right guy …”
Pepe Baldonado, band student, played the “Japanese Empire Wartime National Anthem,” a solo on sax. Interspersed with instrumental and vocal music of the “Death March Begins,” was an energetic 1940s recording of “That Old Gray Mare” (“she ain’t what she used to be …”) that softly, plaintively faded away. Then came an actual recording of “We’re The Battling Bastards of Bataan,” … with lamenting words: “no mama, no papa, no Uncle Sam,” and “We're the battling bastards of Bataan … and nobody gives a damn!” as the intermittent beat of a base drum sounded the dropping of bombs, and a slow drum beat signified a difficult, prolonged march. Included with the music of “Oppression of the Death March” were excerpts of speeches by FDR and Winston Churchill.
Battling Bastards of Bataan insignia
The lights dimmed as “A Glimmer in the Darkness” began with
a vocal and instrumental dirge, then Tom Blake briefly spoke of what was
happening in America while POWs languished in prison camps and hell ships
in and near Japan. “Meanwhile, Back in America”
included sounds of swing band music and Roswell soloist
Karen Fuss—introduced by Blake as “Niña Banegas, live
from Rockefeller Center in New York”—singing “In the
Stars.”
Karen Fuss as “Niña Banegas” singing “In the Stars”
The song was an original Melillo Composition written from the perspective of a POW's wife, still at home and longing for her husband. The song is sung by Nina Banegas in metaphor... her answer to her husband's famous corrido. Nina Banegas, widow of Lorenzo, permitted her husband's corrido to be used for this documentary.
“Time, Storm” included excerpts from actual American
era recordings of popular music—“Bell Bottom Trousers”,
“Santa Fe Trail” sung by Bing Crosby, “Getting Sentimental,”
“Accentuate the Positive,” “No Shortage of Love”
by Doris Day, “My Filipino Baby,” “Auld Lang Syne”
and “Baby Come Home”—as well as pieces of: a wartime
speech by Winston Churchill, era radio commentators, a broadcast of Bob
Hope “Live from the Pacific,” and a Zero Hour Broadcast by
Tokyo Rose, interspersed with instrumentally rendered sounds of trauma,
overhead aircraft, Morse code signals and bombs pounding the earth. At
times, the audience physically felt the music vibrating through their
bodies.
Then during “From the Ashes,” the white flag dropped, replaced by the American flag, as musicians and singers played and sang “the price of Freedom” and “Home Sweet Home.” Lorenzo Banegas again spoke (from a recording). Soloists Tom Blake and eight-year old Cameron Degani (so small he stood on a stepstool), each sang God Bless America.
Soloists Tom Blake
and 8-year old Cameron Degani singing God Bless America
Lt.
General Knowles led the audience in the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag,
this time the one spotlighted under the ceiling (that replaced the white
flag). Tom Blake and John Fuss, assisted by young Cameron Degani, sang
USA’s National Anthem.
Knowles and composer Stephen Melillo acknowledged the survivors of the Bataan March and family members of those sacrificed who were present. As the audience gave the survivors a prolonged standing ovation, Melillo emotionally embraced each survivor. At the end of the documentary, admiring musicians, singers and audience surrounded the survivors. Along with warm hugs, often accompanied by crumpled faces and tears, many cried, “Thank-you!” and “God Bless You!”
Jack
Aldrich pointing to his photo in the book authored by his wife, for Jeannie
Trujillo, RPD patrol officer who, in two successive events, completed
the annual 26.2-mile memorial march at White Sands.
Five survivors attended
Saturday’s event; they included Jack Aldrich of Roswell, Roberto
Medina of Taos, Charlie James of Carlsbad and Tommy McGee. On Sunday,
survivors included Jack Aldrich and Harold Hise of Roswell.
The son and
daughter-in-law of Roberto Medina said that he, a young orphan, lied about
his age to “join up” at the age of 17. After he at last came
home, with nothing and no family waiting for him, he went on to create
a family with 15 children, 11 still living, and a construction business,
then several more businesses, ultimately becoming a self-made multimillionaire.
Roberto Medina will be 87 years old in July.
Roberto Medina of
Taos, Bataan Death March survivor, signing Jeannie Trujillo’s copy
of the book. Jeannie is wearing her 2004 Bataan Memorial Death March shirt.
Medina’s family mentioned another survivor who was a Code Talker: Tony Reyna, of Taos Pueblo. They are also acquainted with another Bataan survivor still living in the Taos area. Neither of those were present at the documentary.
Only a few dozen of the Bataan Death March survivors still live. Because
the event of 1942 and its aftermath affected so many New Mexico families,
a living memorial to honor those involved began in 1989. A growing number
of volunteers have participated in the Bataan Memorial Death March each
year beginning 1989 -- with the exception of 2003 when it was cancelled
because many service members were deployed to Iraq. The memorial march
is a difficult, rugged 26.2-mile march -- through high arid terrain, deep
loose sand, rugged, rocky paths and washes, and four miles of uphill climb
-- on New Mexico's White Sands Missile Range, to offer tribute to the
heroic service members who risked their lives defending the Philippine
Islands during World War II. Because many from across the nation and far
beyond want to participate, it is now limited to the first 4,000 volunteers
who sign up.
A participant
said 11 Bataan survivors attended the March 21, 2004 event, offering their
encouragement and thanks for being honored in such a physically challenging
way. Thoughts of the POWs who had endured far greater hardships, and signs
along the way—like clasped hands symbolizing one helping another--were
among the effects that encouraged Memorial runners when the going got
rough. Officer Trujillo--who said it took her nine hours to complete the
course--said she often cried thinking of what those who made the original
march endured, and how they had helped each other along the way.
It was because of
that enduring American quality of helping one another, even at the risk
of one’s own life, that as many POWs survived the Bataan Death March
and subsequent death camps.
The Honor Band
was comprised of music students currently attending Roswell Independent
School District schools and graduates of those currently attending New
Mexico colleges. Choral members were the Roswell Community Chorus, directed
by John Fuss, and the Shenandoah University Chorus of Winchester, Virginia
directed by Karen Keating.
Bataan March survivors Harold Hise and Jack Aldrich of Roswell—surrounded by members of Shenandoah University Choir of Winchester, Virginia—and choir director, Karen Keating.
The choral group from Virginia traveled 30-non-stop hours coming to (and returning from) Roswell to perform at these productions. At the end of each, the young singers surrounded the survivors. The composer, musicians, singers and their directors had begun practicing and preparing for these premier performances more than a year earlier. All of their work and energy climaxed at the end of each the two successful performances, after having focused for many months upon the events and people they commemorated. And their efforts were embraced and appreciated by all, including the survivors and their families, whom the performers met for the first time.
Stephen Melillo
of Virginia, the passionate composer of musical documentary, “That We Might Live,” with Bataan survivor, Harold Hise of Roswell. Another
survivor, Jack Aldrich, is in the background.
As Stephen Melillo wrote in the brochure/program given to attendees of the performance: “Shake their hands now. Touch them. Take them into your hearts. Then touch your children and your children’s children. Have them do the same. Tell them of the men who found themselves in a time and circumstance of extraordinary external choosing and then found within themselves, and for the sake of Freedom, a place beyond suffering. Refuse to let them ever die. Refuse to squander what they have fought for, lived for and died for. Into all the future generations, march as they have marched and find within yourself just some fraction of their Love, Courage and Valor.”
This experience, this emotionally memorable and beautiful moment will never pass our way again.
Some of those
who made the production possible: (from left) Kent Jordan (Roswell High
School Band), Stephen Melillo (Composer), trumpet player from New Mexico
State University and Greg Odom (Sierra Mid-Band director)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
HONORING THE BATAAN DEATH MARCH SURVIVORS AND FAMILIES
(Following is taken,
verbatim, from portions of the programs handed out to the audience at
the event.) "The creation of this musical work was made possible
by a grant from the Continental Harmony Millennium Project of the National
Endowment for the Arts with support from the American Composers Forum
and an associate partner of the White House Millennium Council. Performances
and recording are made possible by grants from Xcel Energy Foundation,
Roswell Sertoma and the Toles Foundation.
The NOTE [Nothing
Other Than Excellence] Council is a youth-oriented group of high school
musicians from the high school bands in Roswell [New Mexico] who have
led an initiative in the community during the past two years to heighten
the importance of music in the lives of young people and to assure that
no student in the Roswell schools is denied participation in band due
to lack of funds or instruments.
As part of a Continental
Harmony, REACH 2000 [a non-profit organization that promotes success for
youth] commissioning project with New Mexico, this work honors the sacrificed
and surviving participants of the Bataan Death March, the 200th and 515th
Coastal Artillery’s Ex-Prisoners of War II.
That We Might Live,
Then, Now, Always: A Documentary in Music is made complete by an historically
accurate, pre-recorded CD of authentic radio and musical clips from World
War II, excerpts and lyrics of which are pertinent to the events of Bataan
and Corregidor during the three years, eight months and 25 days where
31,095 were sacrificed to conditions and hardships beyond measure or words.
For the Survivors of the Bataan Death March, the day of surrender did
not mark an end to their inhumane imprisonment, ordeals on the 'hell ships'
and then continued slave labor in Japan. For them, the war would last
much longer. In fact, it has taken almost 40 years before these valiant
souls began to speak of the events we now sum in the phrase, 'Bataan Death
March.' The goal of the work is to encapsulate a worthy memento, a time
capsule that will carry into future generations the oft-times hard to
accept legacy of the valiant souls who endured more than can be summed
with words alone."
Some of those who made the production possible: Carl Erdmann of Nash Street
Media, Roswell, produced the video and audio recording.
To order a CD or cassette tape of this production from the NOTE Council, call Jane Batson at 505-622-2751; cost is $20 each.