Tallgrass Creek resident Betsy Herold Heimke recently published ‘Bring Cup, Plate and Spoon,’ a book about her experiences as a prisoner of war during World War II.
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Ex-prisoner of war recalls internment camp
By: Holly Kramer, Staff Writer
Reminders of a three-year struggle for survival surround Betsy Heimke in her apartment.
There are the brightly colored patches on her red Heart of America Ex-POW vest with the various internment camps she endured, a hand-stitched American flag and a baby doll clad in patriotic garb.
In 1941, Heimke and her brother, Billy, lived in Bagiou, Philippines, with their parents. Her mother and father taught school, and her father started a lumber company before World War II broke out.
Heimke’s family became four of the 5,000 American civilians the Japanese imprisoned in internment camps.
She has penned a memoir titled “Bring Cup, Plate and Spoon” about her experience.
Heimke said she remembers in vivid detail the night the Japanese soldiers came into their home. “I remember the 27th of December,” Heimke, 78, said. “We went to bed and in the middle of the night, my dad opened the door and told Billy and me to stand in the back of the hall. There were about 30 Japanese soldiers. They crouched down. They looked like a bunch of cats; their eyes looked like black marbles. They looked rather mean.”
The soldiers kept the family under guard that night, and the next day drove them to U.S. Army Camp John Hay.
“That was the last time we saw the Studebaker at the house,” Heimke said.
Holding a small portion of food and a sweater, Heimke and her family arrived at the camp, which had been designed to house 40 soldiers.
About 500 captured Filipinos occupied the military barracks and everyone tried to grab some space.
“We called it a ‘cubicle,’” Heimke said. “That became our home for about four months. In the meantime, we thought we would go home. We had no water, there was no food. I felt sorry for the moms of these kids because they had to hang their wet diapers on the barbed wire fence.”
Despite the poor conditions, Heimke said the prisoners formed committees to make life easier.
“We had a wood crew and they cut down the pine wood for the kitchen,” Heimke said. “We had a kitchen crew that brought stuff up from the market. They would bring in as much as possible. The Japanese provided nothing.”
Civilians saved everything from tin cans to pant bottoms.
“We were the first recyclers,” Heimke said. “We kept everything and used it somehow.”
Life became boring for the captured children so the adults decided to start teaching school, Heimke said.
“We had to get permission for school,” Heimke said. “The teaching of history or geography was forbidden but we called history ‘reading’ on our report card and we called geography ‘physiography.’ That kind of hoodwinked them.”
Heimke and her family stayed at Camp John Hay for three months and then the Japanese moved them to Camp Holmes, outside of Baguio.
The children entertained themselves by playing volleyball and football. The prisoners kept waiting for aid to come and Heimke said they only received one Red Cross package.
“Interestingly enough, it contained cigarettes,” Heimke said. “The dumbest thing it contained was shoe polish. By that time, we were going barefoot.”
Throughout this time, Heimke said they received limited information about the war.
“We never knew about D-Day,” Heimke said. “We didn’t know about the Bataan Death March until after the war. There was a radio smuggled into camp but only a precious few people were allowed to hear it.”
After two years in Camp Holmes, the Japanese moved the prisoners to Bilibid Penitentiary in Manila.
Bilibid proved to be a near-breaking point for her father as the prisoners faced starvation, insect-ridden quarters and the constant watch of the Japanese soldiers.
“Towards the end, my dad was very, very despondent,” Heimke said. “He had boils all over his back and his hands. At that time, we only had about 800 calories a day. He really didn’t know if we would make it out alive.”
When the American troops arrived in Manila, Heimke said the Japanese started to “dismantle.”
“Manila was bombed like the dickens,” Heimke said. “The bombs looked like Christmas tree tinsel. By Feb. 4, everything had changed dramatically. An announcement was made that we would no longer be under Japanese jurisdiction. The word ‘freedom’ was never used.”
The U.S. 37th Division Army “accidentally” ran into Bilibid the next day, Heimke said. The U.S. soldiers helped evacuate the prisoners.
After about a month of waiting for the fighting in Manila to cease, Heimke said the family was taken to San Francisco in a ship commandeered by the U.S. Army.
Her father went back to the Philippines to restart his lumber company. Heimke, along with her mother and brother, stayed with relatives in the United States.
Heimke attended Northwestern University and got a nursing degree. She married Karl in 1952.
Having survived the internment camps made Heimke interested in writing a memoir. She enrolled in creative writing classes at Lakeview Village retirement home.
“I came up with the title, ‘Bring Cup, Plate and Spoon’ because whenever we would have get-togethers in the internment camps, we would tell people bring a cup, plate or spoon because we didn’t have all the supplies.”
Betsy and Karl moved to Overland Park in 1970 and now reside at Tallgrass Creek retirement community, 13800 Metcalf Ave.
On May 22, Heimke made a presentation about her book to a crowd at Tallgrass.
“It was wonderful; I was surprised by all the people that came out and asked questions,” Heimke said.
She is a member of the Heart of America Ex-POW organization.
Heimke beamed with pride when she showed her Ex-POW vest and hat adorned with her original name tag from the internment camp and various pins.
Heimke said she wants people to know what happened in the Philippines during WWII. She said she kept positive despite the circumstances.
“We hoped that we would get out,” Heimke said. “Fortunately, things turned out and we made it.”
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There are the brightly colored patches on her red Heart of America Ex-POW vest with the various internment camps she endured, a hand-stitched American flag and a baby doll clad in patriotic garb.
In 1941, Heimke and her brother, Billy, lived in Bagiou, Philippines, with their parents. Her mother and father taught school, and her father started a lumber company before World War II broke out.
Heimke’s family became four of the 5,000 American civilians the Japanese imprisoned in internment camps.
She has penned a memoir titled “Bring Cup, Plate and Spoon” about her experience.
Heimke said she remembers in vivid detail the night the Japanese soldiers came into their home. “I remember the 27th of December,” Heimke, 78, said. “We went to bed and in the middle of the night, my dad opened the door and told Billy and me to stand in the back of the hall. There were about 30 Japanese soldiers. They crouched down. They looked like a bunch of cats; their eyes looked like black marbles. They looked rather mean.”
The soldiers kept the family under guard that night, and the next day drove them to U.S. Army Camp John Hay.
“That was the last time we saw the Studebaker at the house,” Heimke said.
Holding a small portion of food and a sweater, Heimke and her family arrived at the camp, which had been designed to house 40 soldiers.
About 500 captured Filipinos occupied the military barracks and everyone tried to grab some space.
“We called it a ‘cubicle,’” Heimke said. “That became our home for about four months. In the meantime, we thought we would go home. We had no water, there was no food. I felt sorry for the moms of these kids because they had to hang their wet diapers on the barbed wire fence.”
Despite the poor conditions, Heimke said the prisoners formed committees to make life easier.
“We had a wood crew and they cut down the pine wood for the kitchen,” Heimke said. “We had a kitchen crew that brought stuff up from the market. They would bring in as much as possible. The Japanese provided nothing.”
Civilians saved everything from tin cans to pant bottoms.
“We were the first recyclers,” Heimke said. “We kept everything and used it somehow.”
Life became boring for the captured children so the adults decided to start teaching school, Heimke said.
“We had to get permission for school,” Heimke said. “The teaching of history or geography was forbidden but we called history ‘reading’ on our report card and we called geography ‘physiography.’ That kind of hoodwinked them.”
Heimke and her family stayed at Camp John Hay for three months and then the Japanese moved them to Camp Holmes, outside of Baguio.
The children entertained themselves by playing volleyball and football. The prisoners kept waiting for aid to come and Heimke said they only received one Red Cross package.
“Interestingly enough, it contained cigarettes,” Heimke said. “The dumbest thing it contained was shoe polish. By that time, we were going barefoot.”
Throughout this time, Heimke said they received limited information about the war.
“We never knew about D-Day,” Heimke said. “We didn’t know about the Bataan Death March until after the war. There was a radio smuggled into camp but only a precious few people were allowed to hear it.”
After two years in Camp Holmes, the Japanese moved the prisoners to Bilibid Penitentiary in Manila.
Bilibid proved to be a near-breaking point for her father as the prisoners faced starvation, insect-ridden quarters and the constant watch of the Japanese soldiers.
“Towards the end, my dad was very, very despondent,” Heimke said. “He had boils all over his back and his hands. At that time, we only had about 800 calories a day. He really didn’t know if we would make it out alive.”
When the American troops arrived in Manila, Heimke said the Japanese started to “dismantle.”
“Manila was bombed like the dickens,” Heimke said. “The bombs looked like Christmas tree tinsel. By Feb. 4, everything had changed dramatically. An announcement was made that we would no longer be under Japanese jurisdiction. The word ‘freedom’ was never used.”
The U.S. 37th Division Army “accidentally” ran into Bilibid the next day, Heimke said. The U.S. soldiers helped evacuate the prisoners.
After about a month of waiting for the fighting in Manila to cease, Heimke said the family was taken to San Francisco in a ship commandeered by the U.S. Army.
Her father went back to the Philippines to restart his lumber company. Heimke, along with her mother and brother, stayed with relatives in the United States.
Heimke attended Northwestern University and got a nursing degree. She married Karl in 1952.
Having survived the internment camps made Heimke interested in writing a memoir. She enrolled in creative writing classes at Lakeview Village retirement home.
“I came up with the title, ‘Bring Cup, Plate and Spoon’ because whenever we would have get-togethers in the internment camps, we would tell people bring a cup, plate or spoon because we didn’t have all the supplies.”
Betsy and Karl moved to Overland Park in 1970 and now reside at Tallgrass Creek retirement community, 13800 Metcalf Ave.
On May 22, Heimke made a presentation about her book to a crowd at Tallgrass.
“It was wonderful; I was surprised by all the people that came out and asked questions,” Heimke said.
She is a member of the Heart of America Ex-POW organization.
Heimke beamed with pride when she showed her Ex-POW vest and hat adorned with her original name tag from the internment camp and various pins.
Heimke said she wants people to know what happened in the Philippines during WWII. She said she kept positive despite the circumstances.
“We hoped that we would get out,” Heimke said. “Fortunately, things turned out and we made it.”