Barajima Books 2020, all rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means, electrical, mechanical or otherwise without the written permission of the copyright holder.
Publishers Note
Although in most cases we have retained the Authors original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern readers benefit.
We have also made every effort to include all maps and illustrations of the original edition the limitations of formatting do not allow of including larger maps, we will upload as many of these maps as possible.
Agent High Pockets
A Womans Fight Against the Japanese in the Philippines
CLAIRE PHILLlPS and MYRON B. GOLDSMITH
Agent High Pockets was originally published in 1947 as Manila Espionage by Binfords and Mort Publishers, Portland, Oregon.
FOREWORD
CLAIRE PHILLIPS has been praised by hundreds of ranking Army officers and prominent Filipino citizens for fortitude and courage which contributed materially to the success of the Philippine campaign. To this praise I wholeheartedly subscribe. It is an appropriate tribute for the brave revenging wife of one of Bataans fallen warriors.
But to me Claire Phillips is four people.
First, she is as above, a fellow soldiers widow.
Second, she is High-Pockets, the outstanding and resourceful spy operating in Jap-held Manila for over 2 years.
Third, she is a guerrilla officer; determined and able leader and organizer of the Manila underground.
Last, she is Comadre, the intensely patriotic, and spiritually strong godmother of ragged, desperate men.
In addition she is very pretty and great fun. The jolly letters she sent to us in the hills did as much for our morale as the food, medicine and clothing, bought with Tsubaki Club money, did for our physical selves; or the invaluable information concerning the movements of enemy ships and personnel (gained at so much personal risk) did for her country.
Heres to you High-Pockets and to the success of the book which tells your story. I wish to state that all the facts in it of which I have any personal knowledge are, to the best of my belief, true and properly expressed.
JOHN PEYTON BOONE
Major, Infantry
Army of the United States
Manila, Philippines April, 1946
1. A Fool Rushes In
AS we docked at Pier Number Seven, I spotted my close friend Louise De Martini, waving excitedly, and calling my name.
September 20 th , 1941 and journeys end at Manila. Twenty six days voyaging across the frequently not-so-pacific Pacific on a slow Swedish freighter is not a picnic. Add to this the care of a small child, mal-de-mar, boredom and the inescapable smorgasbord. These are a few of the many reasons why I was happy to reach my destination.
In a manner, it was coming home. I might as well recite that closed bitter-sweet chapter of my past life briefly, and then slam the book shut with a decided bang.
Some years before I had played Manila with a touring American musical stock company, and only expected to remain there about six months. I met Mr. Wrong, married him, and deemed myself settled as a care-free, station-wagon driving housewife. We acquired a comfortable suburban home, a baby girl, servants, friends, and for a time all was well.
Next to death, marriage is probably one of the greatest of lifes adventures. Mine culminated in a misadventure and as the aftermath, I took my infant daughter, Dian, and returned home.
Call it restlessness, fate, wanderlust or the whirligig of chance, Bill Shakespeare said that all the worlds a stage and maybe I was not fond of sitting in the wings, so for some unexplainable reason the States soon lost their lure for me. Despite the dire warnings and vehement protests of my well meaning family, I packed my bags, took Dian in my arms, and walked up the gang-plank of the S. S. Annie Johnson at Wilmington.
Now I was back. As the motley assortment of gold miners and Filipino students, my erstwhile fellow passengers, courteously made way, Dian and I went ashore.
Honey, Im glad to see you, Louise greeted, as we hugged and kissed, But I think that youre a crazy fool.
Thats a fine way to welcome a pal, I returned, somewhat surprised, Why am I so foolish?
Mr. Whiskers has been frantically urging all of the American women and children in the Islands to return home for the past six months, and here you come barging in.
Well, what of it
Louise clapped her hand to her brow in mock horror.
What of it, she says. Didnt it occur to you that the navy escorted your tub into the Bay because it is mined? Take a look at the army and navy activity on the water front.
So what?
So there may be a war, and Manila will be a very unhealthy spot.
You mean the Japs? I returned, undaunted, Thats newspaper talk. They threaten and bluff, but I dont think that they will ever fight us. They are not that crazy.
This world is chock full of crazy people, said Louise with a gesture of finality as she led the way to her car.
We stowed ourselves and luggage in it, and drove off. The form of half-forgotten things now began to shape itself in my mind. As we sped through the streets of the ancient city, I became acutely aware of the depressing heat and the pungent ammonia-like odor resulting from the universal human and animal promiscuity. We narrowly averted numerous collisions with carromatas...those quaint little native vehicles drawn by diminutive flea-bitten nags.
Were having practice black-outs, Louise remarked casually.
Thats interesting. I hope they will have one soon.
Well, I dont! I may be a pessimist, but dont let me get you down. I am glad that youve returned.
Then I am not a fool?
Of course, you are, Louise shot back, But were birds of a feather. Plenty of people keep telling me that I should go home, but here I am.
Louise had two rooms in readiness for us in her attractive bachelor-girl apartment. I liked them and told her so.
Why not settle down here permanently, she invited, And be my family?
Oh yes, I laughed, We will stay here permanently until I can get some singing jobs and a place of my own.
I soon discovered that whenever three people assembled at Louises apartment, a party was under way. Sometimes it was only a quiet tea party. Then again, cocktails or champagne would appear as if by magic; more people would drop out of the blue, and ideas as well as corks would start popping. After some of these shindigs, Louise and I would chin far into the night, discussing mutual friends, both old and new.
One couple, both intrigued and worried us. Mona so dubbed because of her Mona Lisa smile, and her adoring Wop, Charley De Maio, Chief Petty Officer, U.S. Navy, he had good-naturedly wopped her right back, for both were of Italian ancestry. I liked him at once because of his infectious grin, his expressive Latin eyes and his impulsive, warm-hearted mannerisms. Charley was good-looking, stocky, and not too tall but tall enough for his petite, red-headed girl friend.
