U.S.-Philippines Ties Stand Strong In the wake of Typhoon Haiyan, one man desperately seeks contact with his uncle in Virginia who served in the U.S. Navy. By David Feith Nov. 18, 2013 Guiuan, the Philippines I have an uncle there in the U.S. Can you help me to contact him? Trudoro Dado Tan is yelling this plea at the top of his voice, but its nearly impossible to hear over the roar of the two MV-22 Osprey aircraft on the grass behind us. U.S. Marines have just arrived with large boxes marked USAID and From the American People. Inside are woven plastic tarps to serve as temporary shelters—the first relief supplies seen in this remote fishing town since Super Typhoon Haiyan made landfall here six days ago, bringing rain, rushing water and winds three times as strong as Hurricane Katrinas. I dont have a house—my house was blown down, Mr. Tan shouts. We have no food, no shelter, no medicines. . . . There is no electricity here, no signal in the cell phone. Nothing. Nothing at all. Middle-aged and wearing a tattered green T-shirt and shorts, he introduces himself as a local police officer and points to his son standing nearby. A crowd of perhaps 200 has gathered, with more arriving from among the surrounding homes, none of which appears intact. Several have striking, pastel-colored exterior walls that survived the storm, but their pinks and oranges and greens serve mainly to highlight the gnarled wood exposed where their interiors and roofs used to be. Having caught a ride to town on one of the Marine aircraft, I am the first outsider that Mr. Tan has been able to speak with since the storm. Hence his plea about contacting his uncle, who doesnt know about us because we dont have communication. He says his uncles name several times, but I cant make it out between the language barrier and the Ospreys. So he writes it out in my notebook and shouts some further detail: The uncle lives in Virginia and is retired U.S. Navy. As we speak, the U.S. Navys aircraft carrier USS George Washington is arriving in the Philippine Sea just miles away, capable of supplying food and fresh water (up to 1.5 million liters a day) for the millions of Filipinos suffering some combination of homelessness, hunger and injury. More U.S. vessels are coming, likely including the hospital ship USNS Mercy. U.S. troops joined relief efforts within 72 hours of the Nov. 8 storm, and by this weekend roughly 1,000 were on the ground in addition to the thousands at sea. Guiuan and the other areas most devastated by Super Typhoon Haiyan lie around Leyte Gulf, scene of the U.S. Navys decisive victory over Japan in the biggest naval battle of World War II. Gen. Douglas MacArthur went ashore at Leyte provinces Red Beach on Oct. 20, 1944, two years after withdrawing from the Philippines with the promise I shall return. A 10-foot-high statue of MacArthur now stands at the site. It apparently survived the typhoon, but four miles away is Tacloban city (population 220,000), where an estimated 95% of homes were destroyed and the U.S. military is centering its relief efforts. So history is echoing in the current disaster, a fact underscored by the story of Mr. Tans uncle, Gumersindo Dado, a native of Guiuan who served 20 years in the U.S. Navy and lives today in Virginia Beach. Reached by phone Friday morning, Mr. Dado first expresses relief. Ever since the typhoon touched down in Guiuan Ive been calling without getting through. Every night I go to sleep at 1 oclock or 2 oclock in the morning after trying to call them. I only last for an hour, and then I call them again. Same story. I cannot call them. He laments, though, that I have no news about other relatives, such as his two sisters (including Mr. Tans mother). All I can say is that Mr. Tan mentioned nothing about casualties in the family. Soon Mr. Dado is explaining, in Filipino-accented English, how he joined the U.S. Navy in 1959, at age 24, having never seen America. We didnt have to be U.S. citizens to join—that was quite a privilege for Filipinos, he says. Especially since in his childhood, saying America or USA meant saying Oh, thats the one, thats the best. He was seven when the Japanese bombed the Philippines in December 1941, and he got candies and chocolate from the U.S. troops who recovered the islands three years later. After high school he couldnt get a job in the Philippines except as a messenger in Manila, so I wrote a letter to the U.S. Navy at Sangley Point, a naval station outside the capital. A written test, a physical exam and a few weeks later he was off to basic training in San Diego, one of 10 Filipinos in a company of 60. For the next two decades he was a U.S. Navy cook on land and at sea—at Pearl Harbor, Norfolk, the USS Fletcher and many other postings that he proudly rattles off (along with the alphanumeric abbreviation of each vessel). When North Vietnamese torpedo boats fatefully attacked U.S. ships in the Gulf of Tonkin in August 1964, Mr. Dado was there aboard a destroyer deployed from Subic Bay, in his native Philippines. He retired in 1979, then worked security at a Virginia hospital where his Filipina wife worked as a nurse. Their four children include a son born at Pearl Harbor who earned a lieutenant rank in the U.S. Navy. And almost every year Mr. Dado traveled back to his now-stricken hometown. Im waiting for them to open communication in Guiuan so I can call, he says. In many areas that wont be until Christmas or later, Philippine officials warn. If so, Mr. Dado will keep waiting, comforted at least that his gritty nephew and his brethren in the U.S. military are doing their best amid tragedy. Theirs isnt the first shared U.S.-Philippine crucible, and it likely wont be the last. Mr. Feith is an editorial page writer for The Wall Street Journal Asia.
Posted on: Mon, 18 Nov 2013 02:53:18 +0000