At war’s end, we didn’t return to Manila until September 1945. From Sampaloc, I went to Ermita, on foot, passing through Quiapo and Sta. Cruz.  The place was still filled with honky-tonk bars and GIs waiting to be shipped home. In ruins was the downtown area, from which sprouted barong-barongs and makeshift stores.

Upon crossing the Santa Cruz bailey bridge toward Plaza Lawton, I stood still and observed my surroundings: behind me was the Post Office charred with shells, in my left was the old Metropolitan theater, and in my right were the leveled walls of Intramuros, with the Herald and Letran buildings standing like ghosts of prewar Manila.

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