<p>
Captain <em>Frederick Adam Miller</em>, known officially during his cadet days as Miller, Frederick A., and simply as “Fred” by his friends, sank with a Japanese troopship in the South China Seas on October 24, 1944. A good officer, a good friend, and a good husband was lost that day.</p>
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Fred was born in Fayette, Illinois. October 19, 1913. After graduating from the Jerseyville Township High School, and spending a year and a half at Illinois College at Jacksonville, Illinois, he was appointed from the 20th Congressional District of Illinois to the United States Military Academy, where he entered as a cadet in 1934. At West Point he soon gained the reputation of being a hard worker, and a fun-loving, hard player. Upon graduation, June 14, 1938, he was appointed to the Coast Artillery Corps and assigned to the 14th C.A., Fort Worden, Washington.</p>
<p>
His conscientious work and fun-loving nature soon won Fred the respect and friendship of the entire garrison at Fort Worden. He served as Platoon Commander, 14th C.A., and in addition to his other duties, led his Battery Basketball team to a series of victories.</p>
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On February 28, 1939, Fred and his wife, June, sailed from San Francisco, enroute to Fort Mills, Corregidor, P.I. where he was assigned to the 92nd C.A. (P.S.). A few months later, he was transferred to the Guard Battalion of the same regiment, which unit administered the Bilibid prisoners who were confined in the stockade on Corregidor.</p>
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Duties in the Guard Battalion were arduous. In addition to the administration of the soldiers in his outfit, he was necessarily concerned with the handling of several hundred civil prisoners. His Scout soldiers had to be instructed in gunnery and in the School of the Soldier as well as in the special techniques of handling and working prisoners. Here again, Fred took charge of the athletic program for both soldiers and prisoners, and turned out some of the best teams on the Rock. In order to improve the diet and recreational facilities for the prisoners, he devoted a considerable portion of his time to projects designed to raise supplementary funds for these purposes. Inspection of the prison guard every third or fourth night throughout the year topped off his round of many varied duties.</p>
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Even though his duties were more demanding than most, Fred still found ample time to take a personal part in post sports. He practised his bowling faithfully, and was one of the mainstays of his team during the bowling tournaments. During the soft ball season, he was the spark plug of his team.</p>
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On Corregidor, Fred made an ever-widening circle of friends. His spirit of good-fellowship and humorous mien were contagious. No matter what the occasion—dinner party, informal get-together, or over a soda in the Post Exchange, he was always good for an appropriate anecdote.</p>
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In early 1941, Fred received orders to return to the United States. His household goods were packed and shipped, and his personal belongings put in trunks and bags, and placed aboard the U.S.A.T. Etolin, preparatory to sailing within a few days. When he was informed of a rumor that sailing orders for all officers had been canceled, but that dependents would sail as per schedule, Fred shouted, “It’ll take two squads of M.P.’s to<br />
keep me off that boat”. But when the official orders were finally published, he had time only to get his hand bags off the ship before it sailed. His only comment was, “Orders are orders”.</p>
<p>
As a result of the reshuffling of personnel caused by the expansion of all units in the Philippines during the spring and summer of 1941, Fred was detailed to the job of Post School and Recreation Officer. The morale of the raw troops being received at that time was an important factor. Fred was faced with a big and a responsible job—a very big job for a temporary First Lieutenant, as of September 9, 1940. He was responsible for expanding the existing facilities, as well as for building a new theater and a bowling alley. Fred worked hard, but to all outward appearances he took the job in his stride.</p>
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In the fall of 1941 radio orders were received directing Fred and many others to return to the United States upon expiration of tour of Foreign Service. Harbor Defense Headquarters stated unofficially that ail personnel under such orders would sail on or about December I5, 1941, if war had not already been declared by then in anticipation of returning to the States, Fred, together with a group of his friends, took ten days detached service for the purpose of visiting the Mountain Provinces in the vicinity of Baguio. While on this pleasant vacation, he visited the Bontocs and the rice paddies of Banaue, where he took many rolls of movie film of the colorful native life and scenery. Upon his return to Corregidor and duty, he found that he had been promoted to temporary Captain, as of October 11, 1941.</p>
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The sudden Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor canceled, for the second time, Fred’s orders to return to the States. Soon after the war was under way, he was transferred to the 60th C.A. (A.A.), and given command of Battery “A”, a searchlight battery, with lights scattered over the entire southern end of the Bataan Peninsula. Here he subsisted on less than half rations, battled with malarial mosquitoes, and with the problem of supplying and administering his far-flung searchlight positions, handicapped too with a very short gasoline ration. But in spite of it all he performed his mission successfully by illuminating every Japanese plane that came within range of his lights at night.</p>
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The fall of Bataan came suddenly and with a minimum of warning. All elements of the 60th C.A. (A.A.) were ordered to withdraw to Corregidor. By dint of strenuous effort, Fred was able to get all his men safely across the channel. Terrific traffic jams on the few roads, and inadequacy of water transportation forced him to destroy his equipment on Bataan.</p>
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After re-organizing his men under the dubious cover of the muchly bombed and shelled middle-side barracks, Fred and his outfit were assigned the task of re-activating Battery Way, a group of four twelve inch mortars, under the immediate command of Major William Massello. This position was near the center of impact of regular bombing attacks, and was easily visible from a captive balloon which the Japanese soon sent up on near-by Bataan. Within the period of a relatively few days the task of training a searchlight battery to man twelve inch mortars was accomplished, and this under heavy bombing attacks and increasingly heavy artillery fire from Japanese batteries on Bataan.</p>
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On the night of May 5, 1942, the Japanese began a landing operation directed at Corregidor. Battery Way was the only artillery on the island not already destroyed which could bring fire to bear on the approaching enemy barges. It opened fire at approximately ten o’clock that evening, pouring twelve inch shells into the landing area as rapidly as the men could service the guns. In the meantime, the Japanese batteries on Bataan poured shells on Battery Way mercilessly. Through the long night hours the mortars pumped out their fire. Enemy shells landing in the pit knocked the mortars out of action one by one. During the night Major Massello was critically wounded and put out of action. Fred assumed full command, and fired his remaining mortars as fast as they could be serviced. Finally only one gun remained. The entire battery of men fed shells into it with increasing speed, while enemy shells fell on the position like machine gun fire. At about nine a.m., May 6, 1942, the last shell from the one remaining mortar was fired in defense of Corregidor. The Japanese had not destroyed this gun. It had been fired so fast and constantly that its breech was blue from heat, and finally froze in a closed position. Fred and his men had fought to the last, against terrific odds, refusing to submit to the enemy, but being forced to capitulate to circumstances.</p>
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During the few weeks that the American troops were held on Corregidor, Fred faced the situation with equanimity and fortitude. For the first few days of chaos, when every man was forced to scavenge for food and water, he shared with less fortunate friends what he had been able to find. Finally, when the Japanese made an effort to establish some semblance of order, Fred was assigned the thankless task of heading up a 100-man group for administrative purposes.</p>
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These groups were composed of Army, Navy, and Marine Corps, picked at random, and were assigned a small plot of open ground as a living space. The problem was to establish some sort of an elementary organization so that the group could be provided with food, water, and shelter from the sun. Any container of whatever sort that would hold water had to be collected for the purpose of cooking and for hauling water. Two meals a day, prepared with whatever food could be found, were cooked over open fires. Fred led his group in this struggle for survival with initiative, and a keen sense of duty and fairness toward his men.</p>
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When the American personnel were moved from Corregidor by way of the old Bilibid prison in Manila to the camps near Cabanatuan, Fred found himself in Camp No. 2, about ten kilometers from the town. The writer was sent to Camp No. 1 some four kilometers distant. Under the circumstances, reports between the two camps were sketchy. However, word received later from mutual acquaintances indicated that Fred fared as well as possible physically, and looked upon internment with fortitude.</p>
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Finally, in October of 1944, together with approximately 1,800 Americans, he went aboard a Japanese troop ship headed generally northward. This ship was sunk somewhere in the South China seas, and Fred was thus lost to his family, his friends, and to the Army.</p>
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Fred was the type of officer which the Army needs and for which it is constantly looking. His sense of duty, honor, and loyalty was as strong as that of any man the Military Academy has produced. He possessed a rare combination of leadership qualities— a sense of fair play, good judgment, and common sense. His personality was jovial and pleasant. With the good start he had already made up to the time of his death, there is no question but that Fred would have carved out for himself a very successful military career.</p>
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In his private life, he had already achieved a high degree of success in the art of living. He loved life and people, and was loved by both in return. He was as loyal to friends and loved ones as to duty, and as a consequence has a host of both by whom his loss is keenly felt.</p>
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He is survived by his wife, June; his father, Floyd R. Miller; Marguerite Miller; a half-sister, Rita; and a halfbrother, Paul; and by Mrs. Mildred Chappell and Fred Jacobs of Jerseyville, Illinois; Oliver Miller of Palmyra, Illinois; and Mrs. George Hutchinson of Highland Park, Illinois.</p>
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His wife, June, has caused a memorial to be erected on the campus of Illinois College at Jacksonville, Illinois, in his honor and to perpetuate his memory.</p>
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Fred, the Class of 1938, the Long Gray Line, the United States Army, and the people of America, salute you!</p>
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<em>—Richard G. Ivey, Major, U.S.A., Retired, Class of 1938.</em></p>