My biological father was John Dewitte Rutherford. He was born February 10, 1920 in the little farming town of Anna, Texas north of Dallas. His parents, Herman and Grady Rutherford were simple "salt of the earth" people who raised a family of five boys and one girl. Four of the boys went to war and only two returned. Bill, George and James served in Europe while my father John went to the Pacific. Bill was killed in London during an air raid. George was awarded the Bronze Star Medal at the "Battle of the Bulge,"" while James served in France, Belgium and Germany. George and James returned home after the war. I often think about the fear and sorrow my grandparents went through during those dark tragic days.

My father John was a Corporal in the U.S Army Air Forces, Headquarters Squad, and Medical Detachment of the 5th Air Base Group. This Detachment was organized from Salt Lake City, Utah and headquartered in Australia during the fighting in the Pacific. He was a medical technician and received his initial training at Fort Douglas, Salt Lake City, Utah in 1940-41. There he met my mother, a young Utah girl working at a local USO club and they were married just before he was transferred to the Philippines on October 21, 1941. I was born on June 17, 1942 and was given his name, John Dewitt.

He was captured at the fall of Corregidor. The Japanese held him as a Prisoner of War for 3 years, 7 months until his death in 1945. He was listed as missing in action as of May 7, 1942. He was first interned for a week in a small, crowded area on Corregidor; then placed on a transport and taken to Manila, paraded through the streets and then taken to the Old Bilibid Prison. The interment at Bilibid lasted only a few days, at the end of which most of the prisoners were sent in groups to the prison camps at Cabanatuan. Other components of his unit were imprisoned at Malaybalay camp on Mindanao. In June, 1942 the same month of my birth, over five hundred prisoners died in camps at Cabanatuan.

In October, 1944 almost the entire camp was evacuated. My father, with approximately 1,619 American Prisoners was transported from Cabanatuan to the Bilibid Prison in Manila for transport by ship to Japan. On December 13, 1944 the prisoners were marched through the streets of Manila to board the transport ship "Oryoku Maru." This ship was in a convoy of seven vessels, some loaded with Japanese troops and guarded by a cruiser and several destroyers. The horrible experiences of the prisoners made this ship known as a "Hell Ship." On December 14, 1944 an attack on the ship was made by U.S. Navy planes. On December 15, 1944 the raids were continued and the ship was sinking. The American prisoners were ordered to swim from the ship to the shore that was a few miles away. There the surviving men were rounded up and corralled in a tennis court at Olongapo for the next several days. My father along with the other prisoners who survived the "Oryoku Maru" was transported from Olongapo to San Fernando where they were divided between two freighters scheduled to sail to Takao, Formosa. My father was assigned to a forward hold below the main deck of the freighter "Anoura Maru." The horrible conditions suffered on the ship also made it a "Hell Ship."

On December 27, 1944 the convoy of ships got underway. The ships reached Takao Harbor on December 31, 1944 and remained there with the prisoners on board in the holds of the ship. On January 8, 1945 American Navy planes attacked the vessels in the convoy and the "Anoura Maru" was hit several times; the casualties in the forward hold area were very heavy with 300 killed, my father among them. During January 11 and 12, 1945 the Japanese allowed time to remove the American dead to the beach area near Takao Harbor, Formosa where they were burned with a simple funeral service. He was buried there in an unmarked grave and is listed on the "Tablets of the Missing" at the Manila American Cemetery, Manila, Philippines with the military award of the Purple Heart.

After the war ended, my mother married his brother James, who had returned from Europe. He adopted me and raised me well, and he has been my loving Dad throughout my life. My mother has now passed away, without knowing the terrible conditions of Father John's imprisonment. My dad James never has spoken much about the war until recently. After reading the book "Ghost Soldiers," he said to me "If John could only have stayed at Cabanatuan, maybe he would have survived." Perhaps, maybe, but life is made up of maybes. When my son was born, he was named John Dewitt to honor my "Dad," the young brave soldier I never knew.