Carlos Peña Romulo

Recently, my American classmate, who was the best man at our wedding, visited Manila and requested that I arrange a tour of Corregidor. He and his wife were disappointed that during their visit to Malinta Tunnel there was no mention of CPR’s role during the siege of Corregidor, nor was there any photographs of him in the museum.  When I last visited Corregidor, in the 60s, I distinctly remember how his role was narrated in the Malinta Tunnel. The recent celebration of the Leyte Landing reminded me of the role of my father, Gen. Carlos P. Romulo during World War II. Clearly time has dimmed people’s memory and even the recent photos of the Leyte landing merely alluded to General MacArthur’s aide de camp “in the far right”. Please indulge me as I refresh the minds of the older generation and introduce my father to the younger generation. 

Before WWII, Carlos P. Romulo made a tour of Asia to discover and expose how other colonized people felt about their “masters.” The series of articles, which predicted Japanese aggression in the region, won him the Pulitzer Prize for Distinguished Correspondence in 1942. He is the only Filipino ever awarded the coveted Pulitzer Prize, and to my knowledge, the only Asian. When war came Romulo was appointed aide-de-camp to Gen. Douglas MacArthur. Also in charge of press relations of the Army, he went from foxhole to foxhole on Bataan keeping up the morale of men who waited desperately for food, artillery, and assistance from the United States — help that came too late.

On Corregidor he broadcast three times daily over the “Voice of Freedom.”

“Hello, Father — Mother — Brother — Sister: Hello, darling, my sweetheart, my wife: I have come from the front to say a few words to you. So listen closely wherever you are — in an empty barn, somewhere in Bulacan, in some secluded barrio on the shore of Cebu, or in a darkened room in Manila, with the windows shut against the passing patrol. Come closer — this is your son, your brother, your sweetheart, your husband, who speaks to you in the name of all the fighting men in the hills of Bataan. . . .”.

These broadcasts spurred Filipinos to keep hope alive in their hearts whilst antagonizing the Japanese to such an extent that placards were posted on Manila streets offering a price for Romulo, dead or alive. Though the Japanese had long been after him, ever since he wrote the series of Pulitzer Prize winning articles, the orders now were to shoot him dead on sight.

When the American and Philippine forces were withdrawing in April 1942, Romulo too was ordered to leave. President Quezon and Gen. MacArthur had a new job for him — and for two and a half years he toured the 48 states of the United States, wrote books, and poured himself into the task of shaking Americans out of complacency and ensuring that the Philippines would not be forgotten. One book, “I saw the Fall of the Philippines” became a best seller as rated by the New York Times.

In March 1944 he addressed the University of Notre Dame: “In these dark nights of danger, more men wait for help to come. And this help must come from the strength of people who believe in liberty. These young men, with many things for which to live, are waiting for our strength to be felt. I who come from the holes of Bataan, holes of sweat and tears, holes of death — I who have seen my fellow buddies torn apart and butchered, who stand on this spot by a miracle of God who spared me, plead with you brothers to ask our compatriots not to abandon us in this terrible fight.”

Cornelia Spencer wrote in 1953: “Sometimes, sitting on a platform, waiting for the moment to speak, looking into the sea of faces and hearing the pleasant buzz of anticipation in the air, other faces came back to him. One and another of those he had known well had been tortured in horrible ways to protect the very freedom that these Americans so easily took for granted. These Americans feared nothing, because they had never been attacked.” 

He spoke from the heart, urgently and with mounting fervor, as his mission went far beyond official duty; it was personal. His days were filled with constant dread as he remembered the loved ones he had abandoned back home, in particular his wife of 20 years. Virginia Llamas had been living in terror since Japan’s surprise attack. My mother and her four sons (I was the youngest) had been running from the Japanese, hiding in the hills, almost since MacArthur had called my father to active duty in mid-December 1941. My father had no idea where we were and if we were still alive.

As a military man, Romulo received the Purple Heart and Silver Star from the US Army (1942), as well as the Legion of Merit (Degree of Commander) (1950). His Philippine military decorations include the Quezon Service Cross (1951), the Rizal Pro-Patria Award (1971), and the Legion of Honor (Degree of Commander) (1994).

Romulo later became Philippine Resident Commissioner in the US House of Representatives where he appealed passionately for unity between Americans and Filipinos.

After the war, he became the first Philippine Permanent Representative to the United Nations.  In 1949, he was elected the first Asian President of the UN General Assembly. The former UN Secretary General, Kurt Waldheim called him Mr. United Nations.