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Japanese convoy The regular routine of a submarine was always secret, he explained. “We could not say anything, even to our own families,” he said. Nanny State: How Food Fascists, Teetotaling Do-Gooders, Priggish Moralists, and other Boneheaded Bureaucrats are Turning America into a Nation of Children Montague recalled a tense moment during their last run off Caunayan Bay. “As we got closer to the shore, we ran aground on a coal reef. We opened up our hatches, and the 15 guerrillas we had aboard started to unload arms, radio gear, some provisions, and some food,” he said. In the middle of the unloading, they saw a convoy of Japanese ships outside the bay. They did not pose a threat. However, a second group of about 13 Japanese ships, instead of staying outside the bay, went inside the bay and came within pointblank range of the US submarine. “We immediately stopped the off-loading. We also felt that with so many [Japanese] escort vessels, we probably would not survive,” he said. So the crew set “demolition charges” and prepared to go ashore. To set a demolition charge means blowing up a boat. Up close “They were so close we could see their deck. Fortunately for us, and I guess, fortunately for them, they didn’t shoot, and we didn’t shoot,” Montague said. To this day, they have no idea why the Japanese did not shoot. “We think about that every day because we don’t understand what they saw, what they thought. We knew they were looking at us. And we couldn’t do anything. We just sat quiet,” said Montague. When the Japanese finally left, the submariners hurriedly left too, having figured that more Japanese escort vessels would soon swarm the area, Montague said. “So we released the anchor. The anchor and the chain are still there,” he said. Of the Filipino guerrillas they worked with, Montague said: “They were professional. We got along quite well.” “They would answer any questions, and we could talk about whatever we wanted to talk about. The interaction was friendly,” he added. “I would say they were kind of subdued. What the hell, they were all strangers but very compatible,” Wentworth said. Stingray memorial It was Parsons’ son, Peter, and Pol Bautista and Lucky Guillermo—the latter two are the sons of Filipino guerrillas involved in the submarine missions—who organized the Stingray Memorial Project to honor the memory of Filipino and US veterans who participated in the liberation of the Philippines. How does it feel coming back to the Philippines? “Well, [technically] I’ve never been in the Philippines. I’ve been a thousand feet from shore,” said Wentworth with a laugh. Montague said he had firsthand experience of the renowned Filipino trait of hospitality. “Everyone was so hospitable. Sometimes I would think they’ve gone overboard,” he said. What tomorrow brings As for plans of returning to the Philippines, Montague said: “At 85 years of age, you never know what tomorrow brings. So we take that into consideration, about what we plan to do. Lately, it’s a little bit too much of a burden.” Wentworth said he could feel age creeping up on him. “I’m not going to go any place again. This was really kind of hard to do. I love it here, but it’s a little hard,” he said. “This is my last hurrah.” ----------