Some students get confused about the circumstances of Manuel Roxas, the last president of the Commonwealth (the third after Manuel L. Quezon and Sergio Osmeña) and the first president of the Third Republic. Roxas was elected president after the war and assumed office on May 28, 1946, but when the United States finally recognized the Philippines as a free and independent nation on July 4, 1946, he became the first in a succession of presidents up to Rodrigo Duterte.
No Philippine president faced greater challenge than Roxas, who had to rebuild a war-devastated country and move a newborn nation firmly into the future. Stress obviously figured in his untimely death. He complained of dizziness after delivering a speech in Clark Field on April 15, 1948, and was brought to the camp commander’s residence to rest, where he later suffered a fatal heart attack.
Roxas served for only a year, 10 months, and 18 days; Vice President Elpidio Quirino succeeded him and completed his term.
A July 1950 issue of the Philippines Free Press carried the story of Roxas being saved from execution in 1942 by Lt. Col. Nobuhiko Jimbo. Roxas was captured in Malaybalay, Bukidnon, while heading to a secret pickup point on the way to a submarine that would take him to Australia. Jimbo disobeyed the order to execute Roxas, hid him in a secure place, and traveled to Manila to confirm the order. An underling forged the signature of Japanese commander in chief Masaharu Homma. Roxas survived, unlike Jose Abad Santos who was not as lucky.
The twist in the story is that Jimbo was transferred to China where he became a prisoner at war’s end in 1945. Roxas returned the utang ng loob by writing a personal letter to Chiang Kai-shek that reads:
“I have long known of your deep interest in the Philippines, an interest which I deeply appreciate as stemming from your concern for the advancement of freedom and human dignity in this part of the world. I am also informed of your intimate acquaintance with and sympathy for the recent struggles through which my countrymen have so arduously passed. Those struggles, of course, are brief in measurement of time compared with those which the great people of China, under your leadership, have endured and put forth during the long night of crisis from which we are now emerging.
“The purpose of this personal letter is to place before you certain circumstances involving a Japanese army officer now in the custody of your government, an officer of minor importance in the general scheme of things but one who played an important role in my own experiences of the recent war.
“This officer, a certain Lieutenant Colonel Nobuhiko Jimbo, is being held, I am told, in a prison in Tsinan, Shantung Province, China, as a suspected war criminal. I hasten to say that I know nothing of his activities in China, nor of the evidence against him. I do not, of course, wish to raise any questions regarding his guilt or innocence based on his activities in any theatre other than in the Philippines.
“I should like to submit, however, that Colonel Jimbo is responsible for my being alive today. He was known in the Philippines as one of the few Japanese officers with a genuine sympathy for our plight, and as one of those who did what he could, within the limits of his official station, to alleviate the brutal savagery of his superiors and subordinates. On one occasion he risked his life by disobeying an order issued for my execution, and made a successful appeal at a later time for the rescinding of the execution order. This action was not based especially on a personal esteem for me, although he had that, too, but on a repugnance for the senseless cruelty and murder madness which possessed his commanders and associates. He was, of my acquaintance, the most humane of the Japanese invaders.
“If there is any proper way in which you could give countenance to these representations on his behalf, I would feel a great load taken off my mind. I know that it is, in an official sense, impolitic for me to make these statements on behalf of Colonel Jimbo, but my conscience would not permit me to refrain from doing what I can do to bring these circumstances to the attention of appropriate officials of your government.”
How different would Philippine history be if Roxas were executed in 1942? We will never know. But the story of Roxas and Jimbo proves that history can sometimes be stranger than fiction.
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