The Story of Malate Martyrs

By: Fr. Arthur Price, MSSC

One Day Long Ago

My own arrival in Malate is still clearly etched in my memory. Four of us newly ordained priests, James McDevitt, Dermot Feeney, Martin Strong and I, arrived in Manila Bay on a beautiful tropical evening just before sunset. We made our way to Malate Church which we found in a festive mood as the annual novena in honor of Our Lady of Remedies was then in progress. It was November 15, 1936. A wonderful atmosphere of relaxed enjoyment was everywhere. Religion really seemed to be the center of the lives of all people in more ways than one.

Binangonan

We four were graciously welcomed by the Malate priest and we soon received our assignments. Mine was to go to Silang where Fr. Peter Fallon, another veteran of the China Mission, was industriously trying to restore an old condemned Spanish church, as well as the faith in the area. My assignment was to learn the language. Fr. Fallon got the local boy for me; we studied together in the morning and went out in the afternoons to practice our simple words and sentences on the people – poor people!

Shameful Armband

The even tenor of our way received a rude interruption with the outbreak of war on December 8, 1941. At the time I was parish priest of Cardona, a new parish we had taken on some time previously, where I was to spend the next two years trying to keep on an even keel between the Japanese Imperial Army, the patriotic guerrillas and the opportunistic collaborators. I still used to make an occasional sortie into Manila, but every journey was a risk both for me and for those I visited, especially as I was supposed to wear Japanese – inscribed red armband telling the people that I was definitely non grata, and was to be avoided at all costs.

Pagdating ni Cano

As time moved on and the war turned more and more against Japan, the screw’s tightening was felt even more keenly. Hunger everywhere; fear of such an intensity that people were afraid to talk to their closest friends except about vague generalities; torture, death, uncertainty, inability to communicate – these were some of the things most felt. In some ways people in the provinces had more resources, and local supervision was less intense, but you could see the physical condition of the people deteriorating day by day. The great phrase of hope at the time was ‘Pagdating ni Cano’! (When the Americans come back things will be better).

Fr. Henaghan was Weeping

I remember seeing Fr. Henaghan making the Stations of the Cross in Malate Church after Fr. Frank Douglas was taken in Pililla in 1943 by the Japanese. He had been forcibly taken away in a truck by the soldier, first to Tanay, then to Paete where he was tortured. He was then taken away and was never seen again. We do not know where he was buried. Fr. Henaghan was weeping for his missing brother priest. I never realized the meaning of ‘vicarious suffering’ till then.

Military Round – up

On July 4, 1944, the Japanese made a sudden swoop to pick up all enemy aliens not previously interned. I was missed in the round up, but realizing the difficulty I would have to face later if found, and the punishment liable to be inflected on the people who had harbored me – as they wanted to do, I sent a message to Manila to say I was still in Cardona. A reply came back, telling me to come to Manila and report to Fort Santiago. This I decided to skip, but I made contact with the Apostolic Nuncio and was finally told to stay in Malate Church until picked up.

Blind Priest

Fr. Martin Strong and myself were there for several weeks and we began to think we had been forgotten, when, one fine afternoon, a military truck came, loaded us on board with the secretary of the Apostolic Nuncio. They also picked up a lone American Maryknoll Sister, who was actually taken from her sick-bed, and a totally blind Jesuit priest, Fr. McCaffrey.

Concentration Camp

They took us to the University of Santo Tomas gymnasium from where we moved to a new concentration camp in Los Baños, which held some 1,500 people, including about 500 priests, religious and missionaries. Truly, they ‘had a little list’ and if you were on it there was no room for dialogue.

Poignant Goodbye

The Malate priests were there to see us off, Fathers Henaghan, Kelly, Lalor, Monaghan and Fallon. Not much was said but they probably thought they would never see us again. They worried for us. Little did we know that it was we who should have been worrying for them. Because, under God’s Providence, we were the ones who survived.

Missing Forever

On February 23, 1945 we were dramatically liberated from Los Baños, by the 11th U.S. Airforce Division. Archbishop O’ Doherty of Manila came to visit us. He was the first to tell us about the tragedy that had happened to the priests in Malate. He told us that the whole area had been devastated and that thousands of the parishioners were unaccounted for, and that four of the Malate priests were missing... missing forever.

Priests Tortured

What had happened in Malate? During the occupation all the Columban priests had stayed at their posts serving the people in every possible way, as long as they could.  We heard later from reliable sources that on December 28, 1944 three of the Malate priests, (Kelly, Henaghan and Monaghan) were taken by the Japanese soldiers to a torture chamber in an old Spanish house near what is now the junction of Vito Cruz/Del Pilar streets, and they were tortured there. The soldiers later brought them back to the convento, and released then. Apparently the priests never shared with others the details of their torture. Fear was widespread.

Nameless Grave

Soon after, early in February 1945, while the liberation of Manila by the American forces was in progress, Fathers Kelly, Henaghan, Monaghan and Fallon were again rounded up from Malate Convento, by the Japanese, together with a group of parishioners who happened to be around (maybe nine or ten in all). They were marched off to the Syquia Apartments, a large building near the church. They were never seen again. Their bodies have never been found – they lie somewhere under the soil of Manila, in a nameless grave. Neighbours assured us that no shuts were heard from the building, and it is surmised that they were taken away at night time, killed by the Japanese and buried in a common grave.

Another Tragic Death

Fr. John Lalor was spared that day, because he had to be away from the convento. His death later was equally tragic in that was caused by “friendly fire” from the relieving American forces. I quote from the first hand account of an eyewitness to his last hours, one Pedro Picornell, who wrote a moving account of the Remedios Hospital in Malate, which was under the direct care of Fr. Lalor during the years of Japanese Occupation. His booklet, The Remedios Hospital in Malate – A Saga of Malate, recounts the tragic events of one of the final days of war. Tuesday, February 13, 1945, Fr. John Lalor spent most of the day in and about the Remedios Hospital in Malate... ”treating the wounded of the previous day... moved around the wounded, consoling them and giving absolution. It must have been late afternoon when Fr. Lalor and (Dr.) Tony  Lahorra and a few of the volunteers came out, and sat with their backs to the wall, just under the window of the administrator office. Everybody was exhausted. We had gone a few paces when I heard the whistle of a shell and threw myself on the ground. Then shell after shell followed, hitting the hospital and the crowded courtyard, for unending minutes, as shrapnel and bits of bodies flew all over the place. I do not know how long the barrage lasted but it stopped as suddenly as it started...”

... “Some five meters away I saw the bodies of Fr. John Lalor and Dr. Tony Lahorra sitting on the ground with their backs (still) against the wall. They were not mangled – a shell hit the wall a meter or two above them, and they had been killed by the concussions... The courtyard was a scene of complete chaos, the dead and wounded were everywhere, among bits of push carts and personal belongings...”

“Later, burial parties led by a group of Jesuits Scholastics went to Remedios Hospital (corner Mabini – San Andres) to bury the dead...”

Reburied in Malate

“Father John Lalor was buried in front of the Grotto of Our Lady of Lourdes, in the courtyard. Many years later, his remains were transferred, and they now rest in a niche in the walls of the Malate Catholic Church.” [The Remedios Hospital – A Malate Saga, No. 64]

They Were Great People

My own memory of the story of the events leading to the death of Fr. Lalor would corroborate the above. A Mill Hill missionary priest, whose name escape me, and who had just been released from imprisonment in Santo Tomas, was one of the first to verify the death of Father Lalor. Grief abounded in the parish of Malate, not only for the priests who had been killed, but for the countless other civilians who lost their lives in the cruel days, towards the end of the Japanese Occupation and the liberation of Manila. With hindsight of 50 years, I marvel at the courage, composure and dedication of our Malate Martyrs and all other wonderful people who suffered and died in the loving service of their fellow men and women towards the end of the war. It is good that they be remembered.