ONE HUNDRED CANDLES

Page 16 (Christmas Eve, 1935) - One by one by one, a hundred candles came to life, transforming the tree into flaming magic. When the lighter touched the last candle, we sighed, "Ahh," and "ohh." It was then Bert gave a satisfied laugh. "Surprised?" he asked. "Yes!" We chorused.
My mother's eyes glistened with tears. "It's absolutely the most beautiful tree I have ever seen," she breathed, while we stared entranced by the hundred dancing lights.

Page 170 (8 February 1945 diary entry) - Mom and I began to take suitcases and bayng bags to the pushcart we parked in front of the bonga palm. We leaned against the cart for several moments, commenting on the fires, when we were startled by a loud ping and felt the cart shake. Someone from the street had taken a shot at us, had missed, and hit the pushcart! Never saw who it was. We ran under the house, using the back way.

At that point, Bert and Uncle Tito climbed over the south fence to get information from some people from nearby residences. They were told the [Japanese soldiers] are intentionally using gasoline to set houses and apartments afire, and then shooting the residents as they run out! "Go back and stay hidden. Stay away from your house!" one of the neighbors warned.

The shot that struck our pushcart must have come from a soldier watching us from the street. Three more soldiers came to the gate shortly after dusk, and jabbering loudly, poked their rifles at the big Navy padlock placed there earlier by their counterparts at the school. In reflected firelight, they looked like figures from Dante's inferno, anger burning on their gargoyle faces, their guttural shouts echoing nightmarishly. "Stay out of sight!" Bert warned, crunching low beside us, shielded by the bonga palm and the loaded pushcart.

We saw the soldiers were carrying nambu, woodpecker machine guns. Shouts from the street suddenly distracted them. They turned and ran. Seconds later, we heard a spray of bullets, followed by shrill cries.