<div>
<em>Philip Henry Lehr</em> was born on 6 June 1916 in Cleveland, Ohio. His father owned and operated Lehr's Pharmacy, which had been established by Phil's grandfather in 1873. His sister Alice recalls, “Phil and I were brought up in a healthy environment, spending much time with our parents in the family pharmacy and at the American Turners, an organization devoted to physical fitness and cultural activities.'' The Turner precept, “A sound mind in a sound body," guided Phil's life from then on.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
He was outstanding as a student, leader, and athlete throughout high school and the year at Case School of Applied Science. At West Point, although small physically, he excelled in soccer and wrestling and easily ranked in the top fourth of his Class academically.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
Upon graduation, Phil was detailed to the Air Corps, but after a few months of flight training, he was reassigned to his basic branch for duty with the 91st Coast Artillery (PS). On 9 December 1939, he married his high school sweetheart, Rose Krister. There followed a wonderful honeymoon on Corregidor which lasted until 5 May 1941, when the wives were sent home.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
About that time, Phil heard that his best friend had just been drafted into the Army. Although preoccupied with preparations for the impending war, he took the time to write: “You made a success in your civilian job, and the same rules apply in the Army. The problem of rigid discipline is easily solved and should prove no hardship to you. .. . Do what you're told to do in the best and most thorough way possible, and don't be afraid of work. Be leery of the guardhouse lawyer."</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
By the beginning of the war, Phil had held a variety of jobs, including that of Regimental Communications Officer, which necessitated his going out during bombardments to repair cables and telephone lines. He was twice decorated for gallantry in action; his personal courage was of the highest type. During the siege of Corregidor his unit was awarded three Presidential Unit Citations.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
After the surrender of Corregidor, Phil was moved to the concentration camp at Cabana-tuan, about 60 miles north of Manila, where he remained until October 1944. Initially, food was scarce, sanitation almost non-existent, and many prisoners died of dysentery and malaria. Eventually, conditions improved somewhat.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
The internal administration of the camp was conducted by Americans. Barracks leaders were needed, particularly for the enlisted barracks. Phil was among the relatively few who volunteered to command and accept responsibility for the actions of enlisted men, and he constantly demonstrated his deep concern for their welfare. From my personal observation (I was there, too), he was greatly admired by officers and enlisted men alike for his quiet strength, integrity, nobility of character, his leadership ability, and his optimistic outlook in a seemingly hopeless situation.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
Slowly, the months and years dragged on, until in mid-October 1944, we saw repeatedly, day after day, the thrilling and awesome sight of hundreds of American aircraft operating over Luzon—even over Cabanatuan— without any appreciable Japanese resistance. The day of deliverance was at hand, so it seemed. The Japanese apparently had other ideas. Most of the able-bodied prisoners, some 1619 in all, including Phil and myself, were moved to Bilibid Prison in Manila, presumably for shipment to Japan. For the next two months, we had a respite. Manila harbor was the scene of daily air raids by US Naval aircraft, making it virtually impossible for anything to enter or leave. MacArthur, it was rumored, was on Leyte. Unfortunately, there was a break in the weather, and no air raids occurred for several consecutive days. During this time, the Japanese managed to get a ship available, and on the evening of 13 December 1944, we 1619 Americans were loaded onto a Japanese ship, the infamous Hell Ship—the O Ryoku Maru.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
The holds were overcrowded, there was standing room only, the heat quickly became almost unbearable in those unventilated holds; it seemed that in a short time there would not be enough air to breathe. Among many of the prisoners panic ensued, and soon there was a veritable bedlam. Some fell and were trampled; some drank salt water and died; many, perhaps most, passed out or lapsed into a semi-conscious, timeless state resembling a horrible nightmare. The ship came under attack by US Naval aircraft, finally sustaining a direct hit by a bomb in one hold on 15 December. Eventually, the Japanese allowed the Americans to abandon ship. About 1200 reached the shore, where they were promptly herded into a double tennis court at the Navy base at Olangapo. Mercifully, there was a water faucet inside the fence, and a never-ending line of prisoners quenched their thirst there. There was no food. As the Japanese blandly explained, our debacle was our own fault. Our forces had sunk the ship, and the food planned for us had gone down with the ship.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
After several days and nights inside the tennis court, arrangements were made by the Japanese to move us by truck to San Fernando (Pampanga) and thence by train to Lingayen Bay, where a second ship, the Enoura Maru, was available. We boarded it around 25 December. We called it the “Cattle Ship,” because it had obviously been used to transport cattle. The cloud of flies was unbelievable. Water and food were scarce, and conditions were just slightly less crowded than on the first ship.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
Slowly and painfully, we inched our way northward toward Taiwan. Initially, Phil had made a good recovery from the ordeal of the O Ryoku Maru, but now on the 30th, he was down with dysentery—too weak and dehydrated to walk. Briefly, he probably realized that he was dying. He regretted that he would not see Rose again, but his conscience was clear. He had consistently lived up to his ideals, and he had steadfastly persevered in doing his duty, as he saw it, in the best traditions of West Point. He died on the morning of 31 December. His mortal remains were committed to the sea somewhere in the Straits of Formosa.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
In 1947, his widow Rose married William Provost, who is now a retired Navy captain. Presently they reside in Monterey, California, and have one son. Alice Lehr, PhiPs sister, following the family tradition, became a pharmacist and is still practicing her profession at the Cleveland Metropolitan General Hospital.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<em>JDR</em></div>