As a teen I discovered that neighbor of mine had been in the Baatan death march. He told (edited I’m sure) tales of torture and deprivation. He was always a real heavy-set guy and said many times that, “As God is my witness, I’ll never go hungry again”.
Amazing what those guys endured.
So many of the WWII vets in our town were Baatan survivors and when I was young and ignorant I was sitting across from a man and it looked like he had just injured his thumbs so I asked what happened.
He told me that he had been tied up by the Japs by his thumbs for stealing a chicken, then he went on to tell me about the rats and the roaches and the crickets that they ate.
I didn’t know until I was an adult that the town drunk that everyone took care of was a Bataan hero and had saved many lives. The cops picked him up about once a week so he could get some good meals and a shower.