As you can imagine, participating in the 25th Annual Bataan Memorial March at the White Sands Missile Range in New Mexico was an experience I will never forget.
Prior to the march, which was held on Sunday, 3/23/14, there were several events to attend. First, however, were the very long lines for registration, with over 6,200 participants. While in the various lines (roster, pick up bib number, activate “chip” to be worn on shoe, t-shirt pick-up, etc.) I mentioned to folks that I was there to march for my dad. One lady, Melodie, took my photo and put it in her blog, which I forwarded to you. Most of the people I spoke with did not know anyone who was in the Bataan Death March. After waiting in a long line to “meet and greet” the ex-POWs who were there, they shut the line down just before my turn, saying the men needed a break and were all very fatigued. I did, however, get to hug and shake hands with four of the survivors who were at the finish line on the day of the march.
On the Friday before the March, my brother and I attended the annual dinner of the Guardians of Bataan. The group is made up of over 100 members who are either descendants of survivors who have an interest in furthering the remembrance of the Bataan Death March. The guest speaker was awesome; she is the Commander of the White Sands Missile Range, Major General Gwen Bingham, and she spoke individually to each of us and shook our hands. A very humble woman.
On Saturday, Allen and I attended the joint annual meeting of the Descendants of the ADBC and the Guardians of Bataan. Most, but not all, were descendants.
The day of the march was very cold and we had to be on base before they closed the gates at 5:00 am, asking that the marchers arrive by3:30 am to clear security, be directed to parking areas, and then walk some distance to the staging area. At sunrise the sun peeked over the horizon and the rays hit the American flag that was blowing in the wind, with a backdrop of the high mountains with first rays of daylight illuminating them. I got goose bumps when they played reveille and started the roll call for those Bataan survivors who were on the stage. When their name was called, they responded with “present.” That is when the tears started to flow for me and those around me. The names were then read of those POWs who passed away in 2013 and Taps was played. Emotions ran high. I cried like a baby. Then they started the bag pipes who lead the procession out of the staging area and the march had begun, with canons booming in the distance. The crowd of 6,200 marchers began the long haul of either 14.5 miles or 26 miles, most of us carrying backpacks. I was on sensory overload.
It was not an easy march, with very strong winds blowing the sand in your face. The bandana to cover my face was much needed in spots. The sand was deep in places, along with rocks and stones that and made the footing uneasy most of the time. When I was crossing the finish line after 4 hours and 19 minutes of marching, I held two little American flags in my hand that I was waving and I was shouting that my dad was a survivor and the crowd was cheering and clapping. I cried crossing the finish line completely overtaken by emotion. It was such an honor to be a participant in this event to honor and remember those who were forced to march 72 years ago. We must Always Remember the Battling Bastards of Bataan.
–Karen Zale
Johlerpow and Zale et al. 
Comments on: "* The Bataan Memorial March, a reflection by Karen Zale" (1)
Karen Zale and Dorothy Johler-Bryan are friends. Our father’s John Zale and Jacob Johler were in the Mukden Prisoner of War Camp in Manchuria. Both resided in Buffalo, New York after the war and were involved in an
ex-prisoner of war group that they helped to form. I could not continue on this journey to complete this without Karen’s support, encouragement, input and prayer. God brought us both together at a very crucial time in our research. Thank you Karen.