Mother's Watch
雷蒙德·巴裏 / Raymond Barry
It was a seventeen-jewel Elgin in a locket-style case， and my mother bought it before she was married in September 1916. It was a typical watch of the era， functional yet decorative—a prized piece of jewelry for a woman of that time. When you pressed on the winding stem， the locket would spring open， exposing the face of the timepiece. The watch was given to me around the time I was thirteen or fourteen， and I had it converted into a wristwatch. For me， it was just another one of the things I owned. When I left for the service in April 1941， I took the watch with me.
My unit was sent to the Philippine Islands. On board ship， crossing the Pacific， I almost lost the watch after carelessly leaving it tied to a waterline while taking a shower. Thankfully， an honest GI found it and returned it. The watch still did not seem that special to me. It was just one of my practical possessions.
After the bombing of Pearl Harbor， we retreated to the Bataan Peninsula. Now I started to become a little concerned about my watch. With the enemy so close by， I felt foolish for bringing something that had been given to me by my mother. When we were told to surrender to the Japanese. I knew that my watch could become a Japanese souvenir. I couldn’t bring myself to throw it into the jungle， but I didn’t want to lose it to the enemy， either. I did what I could to outsmart my captors. I fastened the watch onto my left ankle and pulled my sock over it. For more protection， I put on a pair of leggings. Little did I know that I was about to embark on thirty-four months of playing a “hide the watch” game.
My unit surrendered， and then we were forced into the now infamous Bataan Death March. I wrapped the band around the watch and squeezed it into the small watch pocket of my pants. One day， while out on a work detail in northern Luzon， I was standing in the dump box of a truck， guarded by one of the ever present Japanese soldiers. His eyes were at just the right level to notice the lump in my small pocket. He reached out with a gloved hand and touched the spot. I froze and held my breath， fearing that I was about to lose my now prized possession. Surprisingly， the guard was not curious enough to ask about what I had in my pocket， and again the watch was safe for a while. Later， I managed to find a new chamois， and I swaddled the watch in it， concealing it in my shirt pocket. No matter how wet I became， the watch remained safe and dry.