This is my Grandfather, my dad's dad, Henry Clay Conner, Jr (circa 1947).
I only have a few memories of him as he died suddenly in October of 1983 when I was only four years old. However, what I am lacking in memories, I have gained in stories. Stories that are written, and stories that are told.
Let me explain.
In November of 1941, my Grandfather was 23 years old, and was stationed in the Philippines. Mere weeks after arriving, he was on the golf course when Pearl Harbor was attacked. For him, life was never the same.
When the U.S. and Philippine Armies surrendered on Bataan, Clay (my grandfather) did not want to be taken as a prisoner. He received permission from the commanding officers to leave and go into the jungles as a guerrilla. However, he was warned not to do so since the jungles were so dangerous, and was told there would be safety in the number of men who were surrendering on Bataan. This proved to be a mistake, as these very men suffered the horrors of the
Bataan Death March.
My grandfather? He lived and survived in the jungles for 34 months. He was considered MIA with a $20,00 price on his head by the Japanese Army.
Clay moved from village to village, constantly bumping into Japanese patrols. When the Japanese army discovered locals who were helping him with food and supplies, they were killed. Clay knew he could no longer put these people at risk. His best option was to approach the pigmy negritos in the mountainous jungles of the Philippines. The Japanese were afraid of the negritos, who set torturous traps.
When he went to the negritos, he quickly became a leader among their tribe and taught them to organize work against the Japanese. Clay gathered information on Japanese military positions, ammunition, and rescued American pilots who were shot down, sending them and the information to the advancing American forces which landed in January of 1945.
Clay organized 3,000 negritos and had a major part in giving out key military information to the returning American forces, which saved many soldiers from dying when they retook the island.
Clay's mom and dad didn't know anything about him after Bataan fell in April of 1942. His dad even tried to enlist in the Army, wanting to be sent to the Pacific so he could go to find out if Clay was alive or if he was killed in Bataan or a prison camp. They knew the chances of survival were slim after many months of no contact. (As a parent, can you imagine???)
This is just a brief synopsis of his story, all recorded in his book titled "Survival: The War Time Recollections of Henry Clay Conner".
This book was typed on an old-fashioned type-writer in May of 1956. It has been stored in a three ring binder and has been sitting on our family bookshelves for many years... until now.
"We were not attempting to be heroes. We only wanted to survive."
-H. Clay Conner, "Survival"
Currently, we as a family have been meeting with an editor with the hopes of having my Grandfather's book published. Why? Simply, because his story of survival is so compelling. Because in the end, it all points to Jesus. Because it's a story and a testimony that must be shared.
I am so excited to share all of this with you, this has been so important and special to me and my extended family. It reinforces my love for documentation and for sharing the story of our lives for the benefit of future generations. And because of this, I have learned so much about my own grandfather and family history.
I hope to periodically blog about the process of having this book published, stories from my grandfather Clay, and thoughts and feelings about the process and importance of "documentation".
