Occupied Iligan: Recollections of Wartime Collaborators

Introduction

Two weeks upon his return on Philippine soil and reestablished the Philippine Commonwealth Government in Leyte, President Sergio Osmeña, Sr.  announced on November 7, 1944 the creation of a Board of Inquiry to look into the  issue of Filipino collaboration with the Japanese.

One might say that Osmena’s initiative may have also  received impetus from a fiat of President Franklin D. Roosevelt that “those who have collaborated with the enemy must be removed from authority and all influence over the political and economic life of the country, and the democratic form of government guaranteed in the constitution of the Philippines must be restored for the benefit of the people of the Islands.” (Abaya, 1946)   The day of reckoning has arrived.

Back in the Philippines, Osmeña would encounter a heavy personal challenge. Two of his sons, notably Sergio Jr., would soon be arrested and incarcerated in the Bilibid Prisons for economic collaboration with the Japanese.

In Iligan, Lanao, the arrest (and abduction) of local collaborators was high on the order of business of guerillas who had entered the población at the departure of the Japanese on October 7, 1944.  Lanao Civil Affairs Unit Director Salvador Lluch had the unenviable task of intervening between avenging guerillas and the now-defenseless collaborators who stayed on or did not join the flight of the Japanese to Cagayan de Oro. Mayor Leo Garcia and his council  courageously remained in town perhaps in a show of self-assurance they would receive fair treatment with the restoration of the old order.

The restoration of the government saw a succession of  short-term mayors for Iligan  appointed by the president of the day. Bernard Zosa was the first, appointed by President Osmeña. Zosa’s primary concern was the restoration of peace and order. This was euphemism for the containing the abduction and extra-judicial killing of collaborators by guerrillas. (Enderes, 1998)

Until President Osmeña created the People’s Court on September 25, 1945, collaboration cases were handled by  the Counter Intelligence Corps (CIC) of the US Army.

This article is a major revision of a paper presented during the Fifth National Conference on Local History held in Iligan City in 1982. (Caluen, 1990) The conference theme was “The Japanese Occupation of the Philippines: Continuities and Discontinuities”. As a key organizer of the conference, I had foreknowledge of the papers to be presented. No one was going to discuss collaboration with the Japanese.  I thought I would tackle the subject. It would  juxtapose well  with the  paper of Prof. Evelyn M. Jamboy which dealt with the heroes of the war in Lanao—-the guerrillas. My paper would be about the “villains”—the collaborators.

I issued a caveat back then which still stands: this work does not pretend to be in-depth and is very limited in scope. The parameters of the responses of my informants hardly went beyond “recollection” of events, hence, the original title of the paper which is “Iliganon Collaborators Recall the Occupation Years”.  Mayor Garcia was the only respondent who was  burdened with the question of what made him decide to collaborate with the Japanese.

Only three collaborators were actually interviewed:  Leo Garcia—the mayor;  Rosario Tsukimata (in charge of education and overall cultural programming), and Manuel Diaz, administrator of DANAS.
The portion on Dr. Godofredo L. Caluen, Sr. is a recollection of “father-and-son” conversations that started with questions like  “What did you do during the war, Daddy?” Dr. Caluen was this writer’s father.  Francisco Obach, the collaborator Provincial Fiscal, was too old to be interviewed at the time. Fortunately, his son Hector was old enough at  14 years old during the occupation years and he filled in on behalf of his father.
The Collaborators
“I know him (Laurel) personally and have been closely connected with him officially for many years. I believe he is doing what he believes is in the best interest of the Filipino people for the time being, and not be because he has become a tool of the Japanese.”

—from a letter of President Quezon, dated September 30-, 1943, Washington, D.C., to Mr. Sotero H. Laurel

Leo Garcia – Municipal Mayor
There was hardly any form of resistance from USAFFE forces in the area when the Japanese forces entered Iligan on May 5, 1942 coming from the south.   The Lanao offensive started with the landing of the Kawaguchi Detachment in Malabang on April 29^th. The Japanese Army came  sweeping  down  the lakeside towns and the capital Dansalan almost with blitzkrieg precision. By May 5 Dansalan was a lost cause.From a line entry in the diary of Pacificador A. Lluch, Sr. (later Mayor of Iligan City) we learn that the Japanese were in the vicinity of the población at 3:30 p.m. and that  “some shots could be heard from the around the residence of  Celdran (Manuel F. Celdran)” , which is right at the west bank of the Iligan River very close to the Tubod bridge which is the gateway to the población. (Pacificador A. Lluch, 1946) The nature and origin of that firing may be lost to posterity now. Was it symbolic gesture of  resistance from the locals? Or a way for the Japanese to announce they have arrived?

The victorious Japanese army could still perhaps see remnant smoke emanating from parts of  Camp Overton  and Iligan’s pier area, the result of all the burning that retreating USAFFE soldiers inflicted upon the town beginning May 3^rd . They wanted to    prevent anything of military utility from falling into the hands of the Japanese. Even the Mayor’s newly-constructed house in Ilaya was collateral damage.

Otherwise, the Japanese entered Iligan a virtual ghost town. There were no curious crowds.  Even the small Japanese community (numbering around 46, including their Filipino wives and children) couldn’t be around to wave tiny Nippon flags.  They had been interned in Pikit, Cotabato in the aftermath of Pearl Harbor. Iligan’s pre-war chief of police Pedro Nuñez, Sr. rounded up the Japanese nationals although he may have felt very awkward doing it. The Iliganons had gotten to like the Japanese a lot. Many of them—like  Mr. Yamada—came to Iligan at the turn of the 20^th century and had been contributing members of the community. (Enderes, 1998)

Many families had already evacuated  the town partly due to the urging of Leo Garcia who had just been elected mayor of in January 1941.

A native of Bacung, Negros Oriental, Garcia arrived in Mindanao in 1931 as sales representative of  Singer Sewing Machines. After marrying a local lass, Pilar Badelles,  he tried his hand in politics, running as a councilor against the advice of close friends.  But he won. He ran for vice-mayor at the next elections and again won. Garcia won as mayor in 1940, the eve of World War II, wresting the position from a veteran politician from one of Iligan’s oldest political families. This feat was nothing short of phenomenal for a total newcomer.

Mayor Garcia maintained that it was out of his sense of duty and obligation as the highest official of Iligan that he agreed to meet the Japanese in the early months of the occupation. “I only had the welfare of the people in mind when I decided to meet the Japanese and listen to what they had to say.” He said there was no better time to show his mettle than at this darkest hour not only of the town but the country as well.

Garcia said the decision to return to the población was not his alone to make. It was arrived at by consensus with other respected community elders  like Benjamin Andrada and Salvador Lluch, Sr. whose families had also evacuated to Digkilaan like his own family. He turned a little emotional in recalling that after he delivered a brief “acceptance speech” the crowd that collected applauded and some even had tears in their eyes.  Garcia said the display of empathy and trust—the “fresh mandate from the people” – emboldened him to face the daunting task of meeting and dealing with the enemy.

Garcia narrated the many instances when he staked out his own neck in order to save the necks of those arrested on suspicion of being guerrillas or spies. He routinely visited the beaches because there were always newcomers from other parts of Mindanao or the Visayas  seeking a better life under war conditions. As soon as Japanese soldiers noticed new faces in town Mayor Garcia was called upon to vouch they were not guerrillas or spies.

Once in a while, humor saved the day from a potentially disastrous ending. On one occasion, Mayor Garcia offered to  bribe a Japanese officer so that he will release a prisoner from his charge. The officer told Garcia: “May I remind you, Mayor, that we Japanese print the money that is in circulation.” The ensuing laughter elicited a much-needed comic relief.

A major accomplishment of Mayor Garcia was in the food and provisions department. His good  management of resources and balancing of supply and demand added luster to the monthly narrative reports  of Lanao’s collaborationist governor Domocao Alonto. Garcia’s  winning ways encouraged the residents to be self-sufficient and productive by developing community gardens and planting available spaces to root crops or raising poultry and livestock.

In his glowing report to the Commissioner for Mindanao & Sulu (Paulino Santos) for June 1944 Alonto wrote :  “I found the people of  Iligan very busy in the cultivation of their farms and gardens planting corn, cassava, and camote.  There is not a portion of the public squares or plaza and available vacant lots that is not turned into a garden.” The achievement was attributed to “The Mayor”. (Domocao Alonto, 1945)

At some point,  Iligan was not only  producing but also trading salt, sugar, and  even liquor made of distilled coconut water (not tuba).

This relative abundance of food supply for the  “insiders” became a source of envy to those in the guerilla-controlled barrios (“bandit” zones to the Japanese)  of Iligan where food and medical supplies were always inadequate. Many guerrillas felt this was an unfair situation and they were going to exact vengeance when the right time came.

Mayor Garcia stated that among the more dangerous acts he committed was to entrust military secrets to his errand boy whom he occasionally sent to the guerrilla camp to advise of planned patrols by the Japanese or the Bureau of Constabulary (BC). There were many ways the task could go wrong.

Francisco Aberilla Obach – Provincial Fiscal

Instrumental in seeking out Mayor Garcia from their evacuation site  in Digkilaan  was  Francisco  Obach. Already 40 years old in 1942, the first native-born lawyer from Lanao was perhaps the oldest among the collaborators. Obach was a scion of a family with a history of providing leadership in the municipality. His father, Miguel Obach, was a former town presidente. He was the son of Maximo Obac, a capitan during Spanish times.

The Obach  family owned  lands in Iligan’s hinterland barrios at the time like Puga-an just south of the town.  News of Japanese landings in various parts of Mindanao prompted the family to evacuate to the forests before the Japanese would arrive in Iligan.


Atty. Obach could no longer be interviewed in 1982. It was his son Hector Obach, Iligan City Legal Officer at the time, who provided some details of  the circumstances of his father’s collaboration with the Japanese. He was already  14 years old at the outbreak of WW II.  Hector recalls that just within weeks of their evacuation, their patriarch, Miguel Obach, fell very ill, as did other members of the family. The inhospitable surroundings of their evacuation site were taking its toll. The family decided to trek back to their ancestral house in Ilaya, Iligan’s oldest district.

But, before long, the family decided to head back once more to the hills. Some family members had  witnessed Japanese atrocities. Fearing they would be subjected to the same barbarity, the family decided to once more evacuate. Unfortunately, the tail end of their  caravan was caught by a Japanese patrol.  The family was ordered to head back to town.  By then Francisco had been identified  as among the town’s professionals and given the family background was a good prospect to be co-opted. He would eventually be appointed as Provincial Fiscal that, in the wartime set-up, meant he also sat on the provincial board.

Fiscal Obach’s name figured prominently in some of Governor Alonto’s monthly narrative reports. He was identified as a key participant at important meetings of the Kalibapi (Kapisanan sa Paglilingkod sa Bagong Pilipinas)—the only political organization allowed to operate during the Japanese Occupation. Occasionally, Obach would be asked to be officer-in-charge in Dansalan when the governor was away on extended trips.

If there is one single act that has become consequential to the postwar life of Francisco Obach it was his having engineered the escape of  Capt. Ricardo Estrada, a well-known guerrilla officer of the Lanao Resistance.

Estrada was born and grew up in Ganassi, Lanao,  where he also taught in the public school.  He enlisted in the USAFFE when WW II started.  He was among the USAFFE soldiers who disobeyed the order of General Sharp to surrender.

He joined 3^rd Lieutenants Lazaro Silva and Pedro Andres, and Enlisted Men Melanio Lastimosa and Anacleto Penpena, in a command conference initiated by then Lt. Felipe Fetalvero who was organizing the 108^th Infantry.

Later, Estrada would organize his own unit, the men coming from Bacolod, Lanao where he had settled after disobeying Gen. Sharp’s surrender order (Jamboy, 1990). He and 50 volunteers formed the nucleus what was to become  the 3^rd battalion of the 108^th Infantry.

The  Japanese tortured Estrada after he was captured. Taking pity on Estrada, Fiscal Obach suggested that the prisoner be placed under house arrest, offering his home and personal guarantees. Estrada had high propaganda value to the Japanese. But he brought embarrassment instead because he escaped. Obach was the natural suspect as  plotter of the escape (which he was).  Obach was detained by the Japanese and was tried in a full-dress court martial.

Acting as his own lawyer, Obach summoned all his legal acumen and convincing powers such that he was eventually released. But the Japanese needed to save face. As if admitting  at least to some negligence on the part of Fiscal Obach and to divert attention from planning retaliatory moves against the community, Dr. Godofredo Caluen volunteered for all local officials to have their heads shaven as some form of punishment for the “crime” of  Fiscal Obach.  In later years this head-shaving episode would become a source of laughter whenever the event was recalled.

Godofredo Lampitoc Caluen, Sr. – Municipal Health Officer

Godofredo Caluen was born in Aparri, Cagayan Province but grew up in Manila. He had just graduated from high school and starting his Associate in Arts degree at the Ateneo de Manila when the first batch of American Jesuits arrived in the 1920s. (Among this first batch of American Jesuits was Fr. Andrew Cervini, Iligan’s wartime parish priest). He obtained his medical degree at the University of Sto. Tomas in 1936 where Dr. Evangelina Macaraeg (later Macapagal) and Dr. Constantino Manahan, Makati Medical Center founding medical director, were his contemporaries.

Caluen migrated to Iligan in 1938 with his first wife Aurora Cabanos, a UST Pharmacy graduate, who opened Botica San Miguel  upon their arrival. He made  his way to Dansalan to offer his medical services to the USAFFE upon learning of Japanese landings in the province but along the way somewhere in Momungan  he encountered many American soldiers who advised him to return to Iligan. He recalled an American officer yelling “Go back, go back….Dansalan is burning…..we are on general retreat…”  The late History professor Evelyn Jamboy would later describe this retreat as being “characterized by confusion and disorganization.” (Jamboy, 1990) Caluen did not mention the exact date of the above encounter but most likely it was on May 4^th when there was heavy withdrawal of American forces from the Dansalan area. It must have also been around this day, or May 3^rd at the earliest, when the statue of Iligan patron San Miguel was being moved to Puga-an.

Dr. Caluen figured prominently in this “San Miguel wartime story” because the patron saint’s flight to Puga-an was interrupted due to  retreating soldiers and local folks who  were rushing to touch the image. Soldiers were leaving money at the foot of the statue prompting Dr. Caluen to place a collection box of sorts. He stood guard as bills were piling. The collection was later turned over to Father Andrew Cervini who has now become a good friend of Dr. Caluen. The reason for this outpouring of devotion to St. Michael particularly on the part of the soldiers was partly in atonement for burning Iligan.  

The word “collaborator” was never mentioned in these father-son conversations about the war. Instead, Dr. Caluen said he was an “insider”, a term commonly used by Iligan oldtimers to refer to those who did not evacuate or who subsequently returned to town.  But the young Caluen couple (they barely turned 30 at the time) did evacuate to Lumbaten on May 5^th as noted in the diary of Pacificador Lluch whose entry for the day states “Met Angel del Rosario and Dr. Caluen. They had just returned from Lumbaten where they left their wives.” (Pacificador A. Lluch, 1946)

In the curriculum vitae he submitted to the University of the Philippines Alumni Association (he belonged to the first batch of doctors who obtained their Diplomate in Preventive Medicine in 1953) Dr. Caluen indicated his position for the year 1943-1944 as “government doctor”. This shows he joined the collaboration government later than Mayor Garcia who was noted in the Lluch diary as being “Jap mayor” as of November 12, 1942…..which was also around the same time that Domocao Alonto became mayor of Dansalan.  Alonto would be  appointed as Lanao Governor only in May 1944.

Dr. Caluen said guerrillas were frequent “nocturnal visitors” in their house on Washington Street (now Aguinaldo). He gave whatever little medical supply he could spare to send to his fellow Ilocano, the famous and feared Major Pedro Andres. He also directed the guerrillas to a spot in Bayug where he managed to hide a few medical supplies just before the arrival of the Japanese. Little wonder that when the guerrillas entered Iligan on October 7, 1944  Andres would take up temporary lodging with the Caluens and soon the soldier and the doctor would be seen playing mahjongg together.

But even well-meaning doctors were not spared the ire of guerrillas who were not from Iligan. Caluen was targeted  for assassination  by a certain Sgt. Cristobal, reportedly an Ilonggo, were it not for the timely intervention of a native Iliganon, Basilio Fernandez. Fernandez  told Cristobal Dr. Caluen was not just another collaborator…..that he was a good man and highly-respected in the community.

Since the passing of  Dr. Caluen on August 26, 1980, little stories about him “panahon sa gyera” (during the war) would occasionally surface. Mr. Lucio Pernia was a balikbayan who managed “Flamingo Restaurant” in the early 1980s. He narrated how Dr. Caluen saved his life when he was deathly ill as a child according to his mother. Mrs. Agripina Mallonga, nee Padilla, said her family was fortunate they had a doctor (Dr. Caluen) during the occupation years. Governor Alonto notes in one of his reports wrote there were only three doctors throughout Lanao who cooperated (with the Japanese), one each in Iligan (Caluen), Malabang, and Dansalan (Dr. Alfredo Primero). A certain Dr. Alvarado was reported as head of the Lanao District Hospital in Dansalan. (Domocao Alonto, 1945)

At the funeral of Dr. Caluen in August 1980, a small group of old men and women wearing veterans’ uniforms formed the head of the procession. Earlier in the morning at the residence of the Caluen family, somebody from this group could be heard speaking in a low tone how Dr. Caluen had attended to the medical needs (“doctor sa bukid”) of evacuees and the guerillas in the early months of the Japanese occupation of Iligan.

Acting as marshal of  the funeral procession was Col. Jose Orbe, the Chief of Police. He was a  key organizer of the guerrilla movement in the eastern sector of town.  He once had to vouch for Dr. Caluen when the guerrillas had entered the población. Some revenge-hungry soldiers who did not personally know Dr. Caluen had targeted him for abduction. Quite ironically, Orbe’s father, Zacarias Orbe, was the collaborator municipal treasurer of Iligan.

Dr. Caluen’s coffin was draped in the Philippine colors and accorded the final rituals befitting a war veteran, even if his name is not on the roster of Philippine Veterans of WW II.

Rosario Dacalos Tsukimata – Educator

Rosario Tsukimata was the daughter of the former Ana Dacalos  of Iponan, Misamis Oriental, and Sadajiro Tsukimata of Fukuoka Prefecture, Japan. Mr. Tsukimata—Jack to friends–arrived in the Philippines in 1910.

The family settled in Iligan where the Tsukimata patriarch would  eventually become a trusted business partner of  successful entrepreneurs like Benjamin Andrada and Salvador T. Lluch. Outside of commerce, he was also an automotive mechanic, a skill that the Japanese Army would later utilize.  

Rose (Chayong) Tsukimata obtained her collegiate education at the Silliman University. When World War II broke out, she was separated from the rest of her interned family due to a technicality: she had just acquired Filipino citizenship. Assemblyman Tomas Cabili had sponsored Jack Tsukimata’s application for naturalized Filipino citizenship but apparently this did not materialize soon enough. But this effort proved just how well-respected  Mr. Tsukimata was in the Iligan community.

There were only very few Japanese families in Iligan at the time. There was Mr. Yamada who was a dry goods merchant; Mr. Roji, a carpenter, Mr. Hashiguchi, and Koshiro Murakami, another carpenter, who was from Hiroshima. They all married Filipino women. There were three other Japanese nationals in town  who were simply remembered as owners of sari-sari stores.

All the Japanese in Iligan would serve as interpreters for the Kempeitai.  The few Japanese who lived and traded in Dansalan were gathered after Pearl Harbor and they were kept at the Tsukimata residence from where they joined the family in the trip to Pikit where all Japanese nationals in Mindanao were interned.  It was estimated that there were 21,000 Japanese in the Philippines at the start of the war. 18,000 of this alone were plantation workers and tradesmen in the old Davao.

In furtherance of the objectives of the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere, teachers from Iligan were sent to Manila not only to learn Nippongo (which was to be taught in the grades)  but also for wider Japanese acculturation purposes. In the first batch of trainees from Iligan were Rose Tsukimata and Miss Mary Floresca whose family was a pioneer in the Momungan Colony. Their trip first took them to Cagayan de Oro where they boarded a boat bound for Cebu.

It was on this trip that they saw Father Agustin Consunji, SJ.Fr. Consunji had taken over the Iligan parish from Father Cervini. He was was arrested on charges of secretly aiding the guerillas in the Iligan area and using the pulpit to spread news about the victories the Allied powers were making in the war. It must have pained the Iliganon teachers to see Fr. Consunji because he had been tortured.  They were most likely the last Iliganons to see Father Consunji alive before he met his death in Fort Santiago. (Very little is known about the actual circumstances surrounding Fr. Consunji’s execution.)

St. Michael’s Academy was reopened in 1943 with a certain Mr. Vivar running the school. The RVM Sisters had earlier fled to Manila at the outbreak of the war. However, Mr. Vivar eventually abandoned his post and was reported to have headed for the hills, presumably to join the guerrillas. Miss Tsukimata and Miss Floresca were left to supervise whatever educational program they could initiate in the Iligan area. Only public schools that were in close proximity to the población were open. A report from Governor  Alonto  shows only 461 school children returned to school with  9 teachers looking after their educational needs.
 
Miss Tsukimata and Miss Floresca also helped organize the Senseiki Club, an organization of bachelors and bachelorettes aimed at furthering Filipino-Japanese amity. Among the early members of the club were Carlos Aberilla, Luz Villanea, and Lydia Villanea. Apart from planning cultural programs to entertain the Japanese, the organization was also tasked with holding activities that would keep young men and women occupied.

Miss Tsukimata said it was not easy being half-Japanese during those times. One’s loyalty was taken only at face value by either side in the conflict. The Japanese even played safe with Jack Tsukimata who was a virtual prisoner in the Iligan Central School that served as garrison of the Japanese Army. Tsukimata had been in the Philippines for decades and had a large Filipino family. The authorities worried he had turned Filipino patriot rather than Japanese.  He could be sharing sensitive information with the guerrillas. The Tsukimatas  were required to sleep in the barracks in the evenings under guard.

All Japanese in Iligan were forced to leave when the Japanese army on October 7, 1944  withdrew to Cagayan de Oro under cover of darkness. They boarded military trucks with nothing else except the clothes on their persons. The Tsukimatas managed to escape shortly after arriving in Cagayan de Oro but Sadajiro Tsukimata, old and sickly by now, passed away before they could return to Iligan.

Manuel T. Diaz – Neighbourhood Association Administrator

Manuel Diaz was only 24 years old when WW II broke out. Soon he would be recruited as administrator of DANAS or the District and Neighbourhood Association (or simply NA in other documents).

DANAS was “a system of district and neighborhood associations for the purpose of providing a means of mutual cooperation and self-protection and insuring the stability of the life of the people through the maintenance of peace and order in area or areas under the jurisdiction under such districts or neighborhood associations.”

Diaz was a good fit for the job. He was energetic and a known community organizer. In the early 1930s, he joined a few other young men and women in organizing an informal association called The Jolly Seasiders Club. Its heyday was in the 1940s-1950s. Many of the original members were residents of what was then referred to as Kalubihan, a reference to the coastal part of downtown Iligan (as opposed to Ilaya or interior). Sometime in the 1940s someone dubbed the area Coco Grove due to the many coconut trees that dotted the shoreline going inland.  

Gifted with literary  skills, Diaz composed musicals like “Cumparza” or Sebuwano plays like “Maginda” which the “Jolly Seasiders” mounted and performed. This organization was known for its merrymaking characterized by lively singing and folksy humour . The “Jolly Seasiders” were regularly called upon to provide entertainment during parties of well-to-do families or when the town had prominent visitors.  The group provided diversion during bleak period of the Japanese occupation of Iligan. It kept the literary flame alive.

Mayor Garcia estimated the population of  Iligan  at the time to be around 4,000. However, Diaz placed the population of the “insiders”  at 2,000, which could have been closer to the actual number since he was responsible for keeping tabs of demographics.
In due time, the goals and functions of DANAS had been expanded to include monitoring of people’s movement (euphemism for espionage), recruiting labor to work in military installations, even joining Japanese soldiers or the Bureau of Constabulary in their patrols. (Tan, 2019)

In 1944, Iligan sent  90 workers to work on an airfield  in Cagayan de Oro. Only half the number that left returned to Iligan. The rest died in Cagayan de Oro due to an outbreak of  influenza. (Domocao Alonto, 1945)

The Community Deals with The Collaborators

Iligan’s major collaborators (municipal officials)  were rounded up almost immediately after the Japanese left Iligan but not before Lanao Civil Affairs Unit Director Salvador T. Lluch  appealed for sobriety and humanitarian consideration among to the guerrillas. He learned of plans of guerrillas to abduct (“kuut”) and summarily execute  collaborators.

Lluch had to rush back to town from his evacuation site to appeal to the Iliganons for a return to the rule of law in dealing with the collaborators.  The town plaza had been the gathering place for the townspeople to hear of the latest news and to check on who survived the war. It horrified Lluch to learn that some collaborators—mainly members of the Bureau of Constabulary—had already gone missing, presumably victims  of juez de cuchillo (kangaroo court justice).

Lluch was worried for the personal safety of the collaborators many of whom he knew personally.  He made them stay with relatives or respected members of the community to prevent their summary arrest. They were report to him every day at not only for them to get their assignments  for the day but also for him to keep track of their whereabouts.  Yes, even before they could be formally charged, many were already meted some form of penalty.   They were made to clean canals, sweep streets, help repair roads, menial tasks that sympathetic residents  saw as punitive or demeaning at the very least. Once again their heads were shaven, too.

The day arrived when the collaborators were finally flown to the Counter Intelligence Corps (CIC) of the US Army headquarters in Bukidnon. President Osmeña created the People’s Court on September 25, 1945. Until then, collaboration cases were handled by  the Counter Intelligence Corps (CIC) of the US Army.

Dr. Caluen recalled: “We boarded a military plane very early in the morning. I had breakfast in Bukidnon and I was back in Iligan in time for lunch.”  They were interrogated on the individual role they played in the collaboration government.

Dr. Caluen was immediately released as if on his own recognizance. By the end of the day, Dr. Caluen was already working for the Red Cross (Jamboy, 1990)

Meanwhile, Mayor Garcia, Atty. Guadalupe Villania (juez de paz)  and other collaborators were detained for two more months in Bukidnon. Inspector Leopoldo Mallillin, head of the Iligan Bureau of Constabulary company, did not fare well. After being brought by the Japanese all over the place in their retreat, he was eventually captured by the Americans and detained in Bukidnon for one year. But his story doesn’t end here. (Jamboy, 1990)

Another well-known member of the Iligan Bureau of Constabulary, Miguel “Nonoy” Bartolome (brother of another collaborator, Antonio Bartolome, municipal councilor), while detained, was allowed much freedom of movement. He could leave his sleeping quarters and mingle with the Iliganon guerillas to exchange light banter. (Ilogon) They all knew who he was: a son of the well-to-do Spaniard and the last  Recoleto priest to serve in Iligan—(former) Padre  Antonio Bartolome. With two  Iliganon soldiers known for their funny bones, they formed a comedic trio that was a source of  laughter and entertainment in the otherwise dreary surroundings of the military barracks.

Taking the Collaborators to Court

The restoration of the commonwealth  government saw a succession of  short-term mayors for Iligan  appointed by the President of the day. Bernard Zosa was appointed by President Osmeña. Zosa’s primary concern was the restoration of peace and order. This was euphemism for containing the abduction and extra-judicial killing of collaborators by guerrillas. It was Zosa’s responsibility to ensure legal processes were observed in the arrest and detention of collaborators.

In Manila and elsewhere, the collaboration issue  was not buried in the rubble of a recently-concluded world war nor muted by the din of national politics as the Philippines was transitioning from a commonwealth government to that of an independent republic on July 4, 1946.

Two different sets of trials would be staged in the Philippines: one for war crimes and the other for treason. In the former, a universalistic category of crimes was punished (cf. the Nuremberg Trials and the Tokyo Trials), while in the latter, the crime was primarily one of betrayal where the victim is the nation. (Lawson, 2013)

But here lies the conundrum of collaboration: what constitutes treason? Is there a universally-accepted code of conduct whereby the parameters of “participation” or gravity of  “involvement” of collaborators could be weighed against?

The universal experience with collaborators and traitors has spawned a postwar lexicology where “Quisling” and “Pétain” gained notoriety. “Quisling” is synonymous with high treason and alludes to the type of collaboration like the one of the Norwegian politician Vidkun Quisling who openly embraced Nazism and implemented it in Norway as a matter of national policy.

In the Philippines, the character most detested–perhaps second only to the dreaded kempeitai– was the “Makapili”.  As  bogeyman of the occupation, the indelible imagery of a man hiding his identify inside a native bag with looking holes continues to linger in the collective psyche of  the Filipinos. Makapili has become the archetype of Filipino grand betrayal supplanting “Macabebe” of an earlier period. Ironically,  Makapili is abbreviation for Makabayang Katipunan ng mga Pilipino (Patriotic Association of Filipinos). Yet, it was the most militant and armed Filipino organization that was created mainly to militarily support the Japanese occupation force.
Maria Felisa Syhuco Tan, author  of  “The MAKAPILI, Other Paramilitary Groups, And Filipino Informers during the Japanese Occupation of the Philippines”, categorizes Filipino collaborators as follows:

1) Political collaborators who served in the Japanese-sponsored wartime government

2) economic collaborators who amassed wealth by supplying the Japanese with strategic material and other items needed in their war effort

3) cultural collaborators who worked for the newspapers and magazines that the Japanese published as outlets for their propaganda

4) the paramilitary collaborators

5) numerous informers who voluntarily or were motivated by other reasons pointed out to the Japanese those who refused to cooperate with the invader (Tan, 2019)

A search on   cases of Iligan’s political and paramilitary collaborators in the People’s Court files in the archives of the University of the Philippines yielded only two names: Guadalupe Villania and Carlos N. Aberilla. The former was municipal judge while the latter served in the Bureau of Constabulary.

Guadalupe Villania was arrested in Dansalan on December 15, 1947. Serving his arrest warrant was then Lt. Felixberto Castro (later Cebu Provincial Commander of the Philippine Constabulary). The letter “C” in  “ACMAQ” stands for Castro.  The acronym represents the first letter of the family names of USAFFE officers  who organized guerrilla units in Iligan’s Santa Filomena area. They would later be hailed as local heroes.

Docketed as case number 564 of the People’s Court on February 27, 1946,  Villania’s charge sheet runs thus:

“During the period 1942-1944 not being  a foreigner but a Filipino citizen owing allegiance to the United States and the Commonwealth of the Philippines, did then and there wilfully, unlawfully, feloniously and treasonably adhere to the Empire of Japan, enemy of both the United States of America and the Commonwealth of the Philippines, said enemy aid and comfort.”

Evidence tends to show that the accused committed political and cultural collaboration with the enemy by serving as puppet justice of the peace of Iligan, Lanao, and delivered propaganda speeches.”

Investigation on Carlos N. Aberilla began on June 15, 1945 at the Iligan  210^th Counter Intelligence Corps detachment docketed as case number 210. The investigator is  identified simply as Special Agent 2983. At the outbreak of the war, Aberilla served as 1^st Sergeant in the Philippine Army who later surrendered in Midsayap, Cotabato. After contracting malaria and back in his hometown of Iligan,  Aberilla served as a teacher from January to October 1944 before being forced to join  the Bureau of Constabulary.

Accused of joining the Japanese military during patrols against the guerillas, two  witnesses—themselves former members of the Bureau of Constabulary—testified as follows about Aberilla:

(Ramon Gagarra): “He did not go on any Jap or BC patrol and never abused civilians nor committed any acts or uttered any words derogatory to the United States or the Commonwealth of the Philippines.”

(Felix Llanes): Echoed the same testimony above adding that Aberilla was a 1^st Sergeant of the BC but was assigned a desk job as a clerk and did not go on patrol.

The CIC investigator concluded that based on existing files of the 108^th and the testimony of witnesses “No derogatory information could be found or said about the subject.”

Both Gagarra and Llanes themselves  had earlier been cleared by the CIC as  being loyal (to the Commonwealth Government and the US—despite their having served in the Bureau of Constabulary).

As to Guadalupe Villania, he was granted bail early enough and it appears that very little further investigation was conducted based on the scanty documentation that is available in his file.  It is  worth mentioning here that some of Iligan’s notable personalities were among those who offered to put up Villania’s  bail, including Dr. Pacifico Mendoza, a pioneer doctor migrant to Iligan  who served in the hospital of the guerrillas in barrio Sta. Filomena.

In response to the query why there seems to be no records of other well-known Iliganon collaborators,  the UP Archives advised the following: “With regard to the People’s Court records, if a name does not appear in the directory of decided cases, it typically suggests that no formal case was brought to trial.  However, this does not entirely rule out the possibility of preliminary investigations or administrative actions.  In such cases, further review of related or contextual files may be helpful.”

On January 28, 1948 — newly-elected President Manuel A. Roxas issued Proclamation # 51 granting presidential amnesty to all those accused of wartime treason except for military and police collaborators, spies, informers, or those accused of violent crimes.

Guadalupe Villania’s cased was dismissed on February 28, 1948 just as soon as   congress ratified  the executive proclamation. Carlos Aberilla  was released from detention much earlier in September 1945 when the People’s Court had just been created. All charges against him were thrown out and he was absorbed back in to the military service of the commonwealth government.

Contemporary and later writers had always cast doubt as to the genuine resolve of the Philippine government to seriously deal with issue of collaboration. There was so much going back and forth between President Osmeña and the members of Congress when the  People’s Court was being drafted.  Government was compromised. A quarter of the House of Representatives had served in the various levels of the collaborationist government. Some Senators and members of the judiciary were in the same predicament. Many had served in the Philippine Executive Commission (the central authority before the establishment of the puppet republic) or in other offices under the new dispensation.

Yet, Roxas himself declared “There are no puppets and collaborators in the House. I am against every collaborator. I would be the first to bring them to justice. But the mere fact of service under the Japanese is not conclusive evidence of collaboration.”  (Abaya, 1946)  But Roxas not only served in the Preparatory Commission for Philippine Independence but also  as the chief adviser of Laurel as collaborationist president.

In the weeks of the reconquest of the Philippines, General MacArthur intervened and hardly kept secret his instructions to the reconquering US Army to ensure the “liberation” of Manuel Roxas from the Japanese.  Afterall, Roxas was accordingly MacArthur’s number one spy in the Philippines deeply embedded in the collaboration government.

More than 5,000 cases of treason were filed with the creation of the People’s Court. However, less than 1% of the cases were actually tried and reached conviction. The vast majority of the cases were dismissed for lack of witnesses, or due to technicalities even before the Roxas amnesty was issued . (Lawson, 2013)

The language of the amnesty itself exonerated those charged with collaboration by citing the two main lines of defense of collaborators (whether formally charged or not) (Laurel, 1980):

1) “Shield Defense” (e.g., Mayor Garcia or Fiscal Obach cushioning the impact of occupation  by pleading for the release of prisoners)

2) “Double Game” defense (patriotic collaborators claiming they feigned allegiance to the Japanese while supplying aid to the resistance, e.g., Dr. Caluen supplying the guerillas with medicine). (Lawson, 2013)

In effect, the amnesty provided official validation for the argument that wartime collaborators believed in the necessity of their wartime roles.

During his trial, President Laurel  submitted as evidence the letter of President Quezon addressed to his son Sotero Laurel, who served in the Commonwealth-Government-in-Exile in Washington, DC. The younger Laurel had earlier written his letter of resignation from the government service citing conflict of interest since his father had just been sworn into office as president of the puppet republic.

Dated September 30, 1943, Quezon wrote in part: “I know him (Dr. Laurel) personally and have been closely connected with him officially for many years. I believe he is doing what he honestly believes is in the best interest of the Filipino people for the time being, and not because he has become a tool of the Japanese.” (Laurel, 1980)

One thing is certain: collaboration as an issue will remain contentious and at the mercy of value judgments. Writing about the collaboration with the Japanese by a considerably large percentage of the Leyte population, Elmer N. Lear posited: “Collaboration, that is the full cooperation of a subjugated people with an enemy occupying power, may easily be misjudged in that analysis of collaboration rests upon value judgements and substitutes interference from abstraction for empirical investigation.” (Lear, 1952)

In writing the introduction to Hernando Abaya’s classic “Betrayal in the Philippines”  (New York, 1946), Harold Ickes, Secretary of the Interior of during  President F. D. Roosevelt’s long term  related how he agonized over the open support of Gen. MacArthur and incoming ambassador to the Philippines Paul V. McNutt, for Manuel Roxas whom he had always considered a collaborator. Accordingly, Ambassador McNutt once remarked to him—alluding to Roxas– “Collaboration is in the heart.”  Meaning, an actuations do not necessarily always reflect one’s inner convictions. (Tan, 2019)

Conclusion

David Joel Steinberg’s  “Philippine Collaboration in World War II” is staple to many wartime collaboration researchers. He advanced that collaboration remained an explosive issue for many years after Liberation, a contention book reviewer Josefa Saniel disagrees with.  
The issue of collaboration, for instance, has not featured as one of the national issues in any of the post-war elections except in 1946 when the people voted into office a number of the so-called “collaborators.” In 1949, Jose P. Laurel, the President of the wartime Republic of the Philippines, was the Nacionalista Party’s candidate for President of the Philippines. The issue of collaboration ceased to be a national issue not because here was a “quarantine of silence”  placed around the collaboration question, as Steinberg states, but because it was no longer relevant to national politics and to the immediate post-war concerns of the Filipino political leaders or elite: the rehabilitation and economic development of the country   (Saniel, 1968)

Proclamation # 51 had effectively validated  the argument that wartime collaborators believed in the necessity of their wartime roles. (Lawson, 2013)

This observation couldn’t have been truer in the case of  Iligan. Satisfying the inquiry of the national conference on local history’s subject of “Continuities and Discontinuities” in Philippine society brought about by the Japanese Occupation, the Iligan experience  shows commonality with the rest of the country in terms of the maintenance of the socio-political structure. The local elite held on not only to their status ante-bellum but even after the period of collaboration with the enemy.

Not only were the collaborators exonerated. They maintained their elevated positions in society. Mayor Garcia, Fiscal Obach, and Atty. Villania would be elected councilors in the 1950s-1960s. (Villania would team up with Gov. Salvador Lluch as Nacionalista Party stalwarts in the 1960s). Collaborationist Councilor Antonio Bartolome would be elected as Lanao del Norte Provincial Board Member. Dr. Caluen not only kept his position as municipal health officer, but would continue on beginning 1950 as Iligan’s first City Health Officer  (concurrently as ex-oficio councilor) serving  till his retirement in 1975.   Zacarias Orbe likewise kept his post, getting appointed as the first City Treasurer.

Miss Rosario Tsukimata would continue to teach in different schools, retiring in La Salle Academy. In 1980 she was given the City’s Outstanding Citizen Award for Education, as was Dr. Caluen for Dedicated & Untainted Public Service (posthumous). The award was presented by Mayor Camilo P. Cabili, son of the late Senator Tomas Cabili whose unequivocal  stand against collaborators in government cost him his post as Secretary of National Defense. Appointed by President Osmeña in early 1945, Cabili served in the cabinet post only for a few weeks before Osmeña would withdraw his nomination of Cabili. The powerful Commission on Appointments headed by Manuel Roxas at the time was going to block his confirmation. Cabili was a victim of the brewing intra-familia dynamics within the Nacionalista Party.

Carlos Aberilla was “returned to military control” of the USAFFE as soon as he was cleared of charges in September 1945. He would be active in local social and professional circles where he enjoyed leadership or managerial positions like being principal of the Iligan Capitol College High School, president of Rotary Club, chairman of United Way and NAMFREL, and HR manager of Mabuhay Agro Forestry Corporation. Aberilla was an officer of the Lanao Press & Radio Club.  

In the morning of April 29, 1985, early in his morning radio program, gunmen barged into his station DXWG booth and shot him several times. He was the second journalist to die that year. In that same year, his family received on his behalf the Outstanding Citizen of Iligan Award. Just last August 12, 2025,1^st Sergeant Carlos N. Aberilla was awarded the Filipino Veterans of WW II Congressional Gold Medal given by the United States Government in recognition of his services and sacrifices in the preparation for and prosecution of the Battle of Mindanao in 1942.

Manuel Diaz remained jolly through his last years, celebrating anniversaries of “The Seasiders” in Coco Grove where many original members and their children continued to reside from since the  1930s. He compiled “songs from yesteryears”,  regaling the new generation  with stories of the bygone era of Iligan associated with each song. Diaz would also become active in parish work.

(Post-Script)

On a more personal note, I found myself in a dilemma in writing about the subject mainly because I personally knew almost all the dramatis personae involved in this writing. And, in the closely-knit Iligan community of the 1940s-1950s, practically everyone was close to my father starting with Mayor Garcia who stood as my Confirmation Rites godfather.

Atty. Villania was go-between for my father when he was courting my mother. Fiscal Obach as a compadre many times over and Carlos Aberilla, the Bartolome brothers, and Manuel Diaz were also in the same social circle as my father’s. I could easily be accused of lacking objectivity in approaching the subject.

Even going over the records of the People’s Court stirred some anxiety in me. What if I come across damaging documents about people whom I considered my elders, not to mention my own father?

I found solace in the considerate words of David Joel Steinberg:

The charges of “treason” and “collaboration” are among the most severe man can bring against man, and the historian has a special obligation to bring sensitivity and compassion to his quest for light. To generate heat by intentionally rekindling the fury of old fires is not history. However, the historian cannot shirk from his professional obligation to present all his material frankly……combine discretion with honesty and charity with accuracy.

*******

References

Abaya, H. (1946). Betrayal in the Philippines. New York: AA WYN, Inc.

Caluen, R. J. (1990). Iligan Collaborators Recall the Occupation Years. Proceedingsof the Fifth National Conference on Local History (pp. 31-42). Iligan City: MSU-Iligan Institute of Technology.

Domocao Alonto, S. (1945). People’s Court Documents. Quezon City: University of the Philippines Archives.

Enderes, L. B. (1998). Japanese Occupation in Iligan: 1942-1945 (Masteral Thesis). Quezon City: University of the Pbilippines.

Ilogon, J. (n.d.). Memoirs of the Guerrilla – The Barefoot Army. Cagayan de Oro Cty: Unpublished Manuscript.

Jamboy, E. M. (1990). The Resistance Movement in Lanao, 1942-1945. Proceedings of the Fifth Nationial Conference On (Philippine) History (pp. 61-75). Iligan City: MSU-Iligan Institute of Technology.

Laurel, J. P. (1980). War Memoirs of Dr. Jose P. Laurel. Manila: Lyceum Press.

Lawson, K. M. (2013). Universal Crime, Particular Punishment: Trying the Atrocities of the Japanese Occupation as Treason in the Philippines, 1947-1953. Fiesole, Italy: European University Institute Max Webber Programme for Doctoral Studies.

Lear, E. N. (1952). Collaboration in Leyte: the Philippines Under Japanese Occupation. Far Eastern Quarterly, Duke University Press, 183-206.

Pacificador A. Lluch, S. (1946). The Diary of Pacificador Lluch. Iligan City.

Saniel, J. M. (1968). Book Review: Philippine Collaboration in WW II by David Joel Steinberg. Journal of Southeast Asian History, Vol. 9, No. 1, 166-169.

Tan, M. F. (2019). The MAKAPILI, Other Paramilitary Groups. And Filipino Informers during the Japanese Occupation of the Philippines. Quezon City: Philippine World War II Foundation.