For nearly four years my thoughts were limited to when my next robbery would take place. I thought of little else other than when I was going to commit my next crime, what my thievery would yield, and what would happen should I ever be caught. I had no time for a social conscience or for concern as to how my "victims" may have been affected. My only concern was for my own survival.

Under a different set of circumstances I might have been regarded as a common thief; a deviant of society whose crimes were unwarranted and whose actions should not have gone unpunished. But while I may have been a thief, I was by no means a criminal. On the contrary, I was one of a group of men caught up in a struggle that epitomized the strength of a nation and the courage of its people. My story, and the story of the men who were with me, is the story of crimes that were committed in a struggle for survival. This is the story of eighty men who became thieves during World War II in order to survive the harshness of being held as prisoners of war by the Japanese.

So this particular day was like all others, which for me would mean committing another robbery. We were working in the hold of a ship, loading tons of iron ore by hand into a bucket that was to be hoisted topside. About midway through the morning's work, as the constant hunger pangs I felt increased, I looked around and saw that none of the guards were watching. Believing that the time was right, I slipped away from my work party and made my way out of the hold.

I knew that if I was caught away from my assigned work area I would be subjected to immediate punishment. Depending upon the circumstances, the punishment would be at least a beating, but if it so happened that one of the guards was in a particularly bad mood, I could also be put to death. There would be no turning back, though. The forced starvation that I and my fellow prisoners were subjected to gave me no choice in the matter. I could either make an attempt to locate some extra morsels to eat, or I could continue to waste away and die a slow, painful death.

I headed in the direction of the ship's storeroom where the food supply for the Japanese army was kept. Occasionally, during one of my "crimes" I would enlist the help of an accomplice and, as had been prearranged, upon my arrival at the storeroom I met up with another of the P. O. W. s. After sneaking a last look around to make certain the coast was clear, my partner proceeded to break into the storeroom by picking the door's lock. This was a "skill" he was quite adept at and was in the process of teaching me. But for now, since time was short, I relied on his expertise.

Within a minute the storeroom was unlocked. I quickly entered the room, and my partner closed and locked the door behind me. This way, in the event that any of the guards should happen by, they would not realize that the storeroom was being tampered with.

The next few minutes were spent trying to locate something to eat. Inside, the storeroom was pitch black, but I knew I was amidst a gold mine of nourishment!I stumbled around a bit, searching in the dark for items I could gather to take with me. If I had more time I would have chosen to simply remain in the storeroom and eat until I was full. However, on this occasion time was of the essence, and within a few minutes one of the guards would surely notice I was missing. If that happened there would be hell to pay, not only for me but also for my buddies who were back working in the hold. That was a risk I could not chance. I grabbed a few small cans of meat, hid them in my knapsack, and readied myself for the journey back.

At the door I stopped and listened for a moment for any sort of activity outside. Hearing nothing, except for the sound of my own heart pounding, I tapped on the door to signal to my partner that I was ready to come out. Within a few seconds the door was open and I quickly made my exit. While the door was once again relocked, I divided the take in half to split between us.

Then, with my knapsack in hand, I began to make my way back down toward the work area. All was going smoothly and, as of yet, I had not been observed. I was feeling lucky. It looked like I was going to make it and would be rewarded by subverting starvation for yet another day. The air of tension I had felt was beginning to lift, and the pounding within my chest had begun to subside.

Suddenly, as I rounded a corner, standing before me was "The Bull," the Japanese guard who was in charge of my work party. Big by Japanese standards, he stood six feet tall and was as cruel as they came. Known for his brutality, the Bull displayed the sadistic pleasure he derived in torturing P.O.W.s whenever the opportunity to do so presented itself. Given the chance, he would as soon kill a prisoner as not, and here I was standing before him with a knapsack full of stolen goods.

In his ever-present, menacing way, the Bull demanded to know where I had been without his permission. Thinking quickly, and thanking God I had made the effort to learn to speak Japanese, I explained that I had just been to the ship's latrine. This excuse was plausible enough, since most of us were frequent visitors due to the poor diet we received.

While towering over me, the Bull screamed that I had no right to leave work without first receiving his permission and, half foaming at the mouth, he ordered me back to the hold. As I began to walk past him, the Bull, in order to drive his point home, hauled back and struck me on the side of the head, knocking me to the floor. In that instant my world became distorted and for a few seconds all I saw was darkness. Slowly, a blurred figure that I assumed was the Bull appeared over me and, still lying dazed and flat on my back, I heard him threaten that I would get more of the same if I did not hurry up and get back to work.

I was groggy and bleeding from a cut just above my ear, but managed to pick myself up off the floor. I staggered a bit as I headed back down toward the hold, and cursed the Bull under my breath along the way, silently promising myself that one day I would get even. But by the time I arrived at my work station I had forgotten all about my encounter with the Bull. I now had more important things to think about; namely, consuming the fruits of my crime!

In about an hour the guards would give us a short rest break, during which time the prisoners would be allowed to eat a meager ration of food. It would be here that I would again attempt to sneak off to find a place to eat the provisions I had stolen. After I finished, I would then have to find a place to dispose of the empty cans I had, so that none of the guards would be alerted to my "crime. "

All things considered, events had gone well for me so far that morning, and I was optimistic I would get through the day without further incident. However, tomorrow would be a new day, as would the day after that. Until the war was over my life of crime would have to continue if I was to survive, and although today I had been successful, on many other occasions I would not be so fortunate.