The Crevalle Rescue

The island of Negros, located between the islands of Panay and Cebu in the Philippines, was a center of sugarcane production since Spanish colonial times, known for its sugar haciendas. The workers of these haciendas, or sugar mills, were notably not considered as property or segregated by race, and they were free to move about, not tied to mills or locations as many plantations bound slaves. After the Philippines was liberated from Spain, many Americans visited or went to live on Los Negros, often intermarrying with the locals and starting families. Some Americans came as missionaries, some came as entrepreneurs, and some as laborers. There were mothers and fathers, students, teachers, workers, businessmen, and missionaries living across the island throughout the early twentieth century. But the lives of the people of Negros changed when the Japanese invaded in 1941.

Once Japan attacked the United States at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii on 7 December 1941, it continued to attack territories and rapidly gained control of various islands in the Pacific. The struggle for the Philippines was prolonged, but it finally fell into Japanese hands in May 1942. The peaceful island of Negros became dangerous for those of American ancestry. Guerrilla fighters in the Philippines fought fiercely against occupation, and Japan finally ordered in November of 1943 that all Americans must give themselves up or be hunted down and killed. The United States’ response was to send the USS Crevalle, a Balao-class submarine, to Negros to evacuate American families from the island to Australia. In May 1944, Crevalle’s orders were to rescue twenty-five passengers and “important documents” awaiting them on Negros. They encountered forty-one people—men, women, and children who had risked their lives running from the Japanese and escaped to the beach for their chance of salvation.

The refugees came from all walks of life—missionaries, planters, former prisoners of war, sugar mill owners, businessmen, and even young children. Few of the refugees knew each other before meeting on the beach, but the one thing they had in common was that the Japanese were hunting them, and they were leaving their homes to survive. Colonel Abcede, leader of the guerillas and the organizer of the evacuation, was dismayed to find that they had far exceeded the promised 25 passengers for the Crevalle, but when the submarine arrived her captain, Francis D. Walker, Jr., assured him they would take them all.

Captain Walker assumed command of the Crevalle in March 1944 for her third war patrol and sunk two Japanese ships in less than two weeks. Walker’s command style was described as “aggressive,” and not always as a compliment, but he had twice earned the Silver Star for command decisions—once during his time aboard the USS Searaven and again as executive officer and navigator of the Crevalle in December 1943. Just after the Crevalle sank the second ship on her third war patrol, Walker received orders to terminate the patrol and head for Negros for this special mission. Walker was dismayed at having to call off what had been a rousingly-successful patrol, but he followed orders.

This was not Captain Walker’s first experience with a special rescue mission; while Walker was serving aboard the Searaven, their war patrol was called off to rescue thirty-three Australian aviators. Now, as captain of the Crevalle, he found himself with forty-one extra passengers and a mysterious box containing documents that the U.S. military was eager to receive. No one told Walker at the time, but these documents held the Japanese plans for a decisive, all-out battle against the Americans, called the “Z Plan.” The plane carrying this plan had crashed in the Bohol Strait off the island of Cebu, just east of Negros, and two native Filipinos found the box on the beach. The Allied Intelligence Bureau learned of the crash and requested, among other things, all the documents from the downed plane.

Once everyone was aboard, the Crevalle got underway, headed back for Australia. Several families, including the Reals and the Lindholms, had young children who amused themselves as best they could, occasionally finding themselves underfoot of the Crevalle crew. There were also soldiers like 25-year-old Howard Chrisco, who had survived the Bataan Death March and now desperately awaited the return home. When the passengers from Negros boarded the submarine and got underway, they believed they had made it, that the worst was over. But there was more to come for the Crevalle.

Early the next morning, 12 May, a Japanese Betty bomber dropped out of the clouds when the submarine was on the surface. The submarine was ordered to dive, but the bombs fell close to the vessel. Everyone aboard heard and felt the explosion, which woke most of the boat. The Crevalle stayed submerged for over an hour before coming back to the surface. The bomber was soon sighted again, and the Crevalle would be bombed, submerged, and surface again multiple times throughout the morning. Later, while the vessel was still submerged, the crewman on watch sighted through the periscope a Japanese convoy. Since Captain Walker’s orders to retrieve the passengers and documents from Negros hadn’t forbidden attacking the enemy, he chose to engage the convoy. An enemy plane dropped a smoke signal above the submarine, marking the sub’s location. It wasn’t until the last moment that Captain realized they’d been spotted—just before the first depth charges went off.

The submarine was rocked as the charges exploded, sending loose equipment, belongings, and children’s toys flying. The attack only lasted about a minute, but managed to inflict heavy damage. The concussive blasts had slammed into the hull and caused leaks that the crewmen raced to slow or stop. Equipment had broken, including the sonar and both periscopes, leaving the Crevalle blind. The frightened children were hushed, and all forty-one passengers and eighty crew members stayed silent as they listened to the enemy sonar pinging as it looked for the submarine. For some of the passengers, like eight-year-old Berna Real, the experience was terrifying, but others, like Berna’s older brother Billy, found it quite exciting—until the second barrage hit suddenly and without warning.

Although the Crevalle managed to survive the second barrage, everyone aboard was shaken, and all aboard spontaneously agreed without orders to run silent, shutting down all equipment that could make noise and alert the Japanese to their position. This included the ventilation system, and the submarine quickly grew very hot. They stayed submerged in this way for hours, sweating profusely and waiting for whatever was coming next as they crept slowly along underwater. Finally, blinded by the smashed periscopes and not entirely sure what he might find at the surface, Captain Walker made the decision to surface. Luckily, there were no other ships or planes in sight. The worst had passed.

The Crevalle rendezvoused with the Chinampa, a trawler that took the Negros passengers aboard and brought them the rest of the way to Australia, and to safety. The documents carried by the Crevalle were transported immediately to American intelligence, who transcribed and decrypted the Z Plan and sent this new intelligence to Admiral Nimitz. This information on Japanese naval tactics enabled them to react and respond to Japanese strategy, gave them insights as to the strength of the present Japanese military, and informed the American naval strategies for the rest of World War Two.

The refugees were relocated to the United States, although many had never lived there before or had not been there in years. The Lindholms, a missionary family whose father Paul elected to stay behind on Negros, went to live with Paul’s brother until Paul himself rejoined them after the liberation of the Philippines in 1945. Bataan survivor Howard Chrisco returned to his parents in Salem, Missouri where he met and married his wife Elsie and eventually became a cattle farmer. The Real family landed in San Francisco and moved to the small town of Albany, just across the bay. None of the Real children had ever lived in the United States, and they regarded it as a fascinating new adventure, exploring their new home. Although the children were young when it happened, none ever forgot the experience of their tumultuous rescue from Negros.

In Fall 2024, the National Museum of the Pacific War will open its "submersive" experience, The Rescue, based on the escape from Negros alongside Berna Real, whose testimony contributed to the development of this experience.

Read More:

Naval History and Heritage Command, "Crevalle"

Smith, Steven Trent, "The Rescue: A True Story of Courage & Survival in World War II".