One of the books cited frequently on this blog is The Story of the Philippines: God's Rampart in Asia. Written in the style of Campbell's Story of Civilization curriculum for Catholic students, The Story of the Philippines is a readable capsule summary of the long and complex history of the Filipino people, complete with poignant and amusing vignettes written in Campbell's appealing style.
Well, through Thursday, April 13, 2023, you can enter to win a free copy of this book on Goodreads. Details may be found by clicking the link below:
As it is meant for young readers, the book includes several really nice illustrations by artist Lori Kauffmann who, as it turns out, also did the cover art for all of my Belisarius books.
MacArthur and Osmeña return to the Philippines, October 1944.
Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos.
Regular readers of this blog know that that the Philippines, the Spanish-American War, and the Battle of Manila Bay are regular topics. Here are links to several related articles:
Broadside view of Fort Drum guarding Manila Bay during the interwar years.
The United States is credited with building a battleship that, to this day, is certified as completely unsinkable. It sported four 14-inch naval rifles in two turrets with impressive arcs of fire, along with a variety of smaller guns in casemates along the sides.
Though completely unsinkable, this battleship had one major drawback — it could not move. In fact, it was fixed in place in Manila Bay in the Philippines.
It was also made of concrete.
The name of this battleship was not New Jersey, or Missouri, or North Carolina.
It was Fort Drum.
If you visit the Philippines today, you will find the burnt-out hulk of the unsinkable concrete battleship silently rusting away in Manila Bay.
Fort Drum was originally the island of El Fraile, one of the smallest islands of the Philippine archipelago. Meaning “The Friar” in Spanish, the island’s peaceful moniker would become ironic when the Spanish added gun emplacements prior to the Spanish-American War. Though these weapons proved ineffective at stopping Admiral Dewey's squadron from penetrating Manila Bay on May 1 of 1898 to engage the Spanish fleet, the Americans did not forget the strategic placement of El Fraile once they had taken the Philippine archipelago for themselves.
Beginning in 1909, the US flattened the craggy heights of El Fraile and completely reconstructed the small island using steel and concrete. They reshaped the island completely until it resembled the oblong shape of a ship’s hull. At 350 feet wide and 144 feet at the beam, Fort Drum had the rough dimensions of a battleship of the time. The addition of two main gun turrets, casemated secondary armament and a lattice-work mast and spotting top completed the illusion.
Bow view of Fort Drum's cage-style mast and "B" turret, compared with that of its rough contemporary, the battleship USS Delaware.
When the Japanese invaded the Philippines in late 1941, Fort Drum proved a thorn in the invaders' side, firing effectively on troop transports attempting to land on Corregidor. When defeat became inevitable, Fort Drum was the last American outpost in the Philippines to surrender. Before departing, however, the Americans spiked the fort's main guns, leaving them inoperable.
The situation was turned on its head in April of 1945 when Fort Drum became one of the last outposts held by the Japanese in Manila Bay. But much like their fanatical late-war defense of such island fortresses as Iwo Jima and Okinawa, the Japanese defenders of Fort Drum refused to surrender. What happened next forms one of the most memorable vignettes from Phillip Campbell's new text for young readers, The Story of the Philippines: God's Rampart in Asia:
While American soldiers were already overrunning Manila, the concrete fortress of Fort Drum defied all U.S. attempts at taking it. U.S. army Lieutenant Miles Schafer and Captain Benny Biancho of the 38th Infantry Regiment scratched their heads.
“It’s like a concrete battleship,” said Lieutenant Schafer.
“Correction, it is a concrete battleship—with four massive 14-inch guns in two turrets,” responded Captain Biancho.
“Poor fellas don’t realize the battle is already lost for them,” said
Schafer, shaking his head. “If only they’d just surrender.”
Rata-tat. Rata-tata!
Machine-gun fire erupted from Fort Drum. Schafer and Biancho took cover. The bullets sailed harmlessly overhead and plinked into the water.
“The Japs won’t surrender. For them, it’s a matter of honor. They would rather die,” said Biancho. “We’re going to have to force them out somehow. It’s gonna be tough because that entire island is one concrete block.
“We’ve come up with a solution for that,” chimed in a third man. It was Major General William Chase, commander of the 38th Infantry Division. Schafer and Biancho stood at attention. “At ease men,” said the Major General. “The top brass has a plan for breaking the Japs out of Fort Drum. We tried it at Fort Hughes back in March and it worked like a charm. It’s a doozey, but it sure does the trick.”
“We’re all ears, sir,” said Biancho.
Rata-tata! Another volley of machine-gun fire exploded from Fort Drum. The three men huddled and listened to General Chase’s plan, struggling to hear over the mortar rounds that also flew out of the embattled fort.
The next day everything was in position to carry out the plan. A landing ship medium—a type of troop transport ship used for amphibious landings—moved into position near Fort Drum. It had been modified with a large bridge structure. On board were Captain Biancho, Lieutenant Schafer, and a hundred men of the 38th. When the ship got close enough, Biancho called out, “Lower bridge!”
“Lower bridge!” Schafer echoed. A team of men scrambled into action, working pulleys and cranks to lower the bridge. It landed on the concrete deck of Fort Drum with a heavy thud. Another team of several dozen men stormed across the bridge and on to the deck. The huge 14-inch cannons of Fort Drum had been spiked and rendered useless by the Americans when they surrendered in 1942, but the men were wary of a suicidal ambush by the Japanese defenders using small arms and grenades. However, the Japanese had retreated into the assumed security of the fort’s lower decks, waiting to attack the Americans when they attempted to enter.
“The deck is secure, sir!” called Lieutenant Schafer.
“Excellent!” cried Biancho from the landing ship. Then, turning to his crew: “Fuel team, move!” Another team of soldiers came running from the ship to the bridge, dragging a large, long hose. The hose was connected to a tank on board the landing ship that was filled with 2,500 gallons of diesel fuel mixed with gasoline.
“Find the air vents!” ordered Schafer. The first team had already located the air vents, the small two square-foot openings atop the deck that provided access to the interior of the fort. The soldiers broke the vent coverings off the opening while the fuel team shoved the hose into the duct. The hose being in place, the team leader gave a thumbs up. Schafer saw the thumbs up and gave a thumbs up to Biancho. Biancho nodded, and turning to one of his officers on the Landing Ship, gave him the signal to turn on the pump. The man cranked a large wheel, opening the valves of the tank and sending gallons of the diesel fuel through the hose.
The hose began belching out hundreds of gallons of fuel down into the darkness of the ventilation duct. Within a few moments the fuel team could hear the panicked cries of the Japanese soldiers within echoing up the duct. They must have realized what was about to happen when they saw their command station being flooded with fuel. The U.S. soldiers did not waver though—they stood stoically atop the deck, holding the hose firm until all 2,500 gallons had been evacuated into the vent.
“Clear deck!” shouted Lieutenant Schafer. In an instant, all the soldiers upon the deck of Fort Drum retreated back across the bridge onto the landing ship. Lieutenant Schafer was the last man to leave the deck. In his hands he dragged a massive wooden spool threaded with copper wire. As he retreated, he unwound the spool. The wire was connected to a timed detonator that had been lowered down the ventilation shaft. He hopped back into the landing ship.
“How much wire do you have left?” said Biancho.
“I’d say 400 yards,” replied Schafer. Captain Biancho nodded. “Move us out about 400 yards!” he called to the ship pilot. When the ship had moved off 400 yards, the spool was almost completely unwound. A pair of soldiers took the wire from the spool and fused it into a detonator, a metallic black box with an ominous red button. It only took a moment to splice the wire into the detonator.
Schafer handed Captain Biancho the box. “Care to do the honors?” he said to the captain.
Biancho took the box. “Here’s a present from Uncle Sam!” he yelled towards Fort Drum. Then he pressed the red button with his thumb.
Fort Drum rumbled and exploded in a blast of destruction that shocked even Biancho and Schafer. The concrete deck of the fortress fragmented into thousands of pieces and was flung hundreds of feet into the air by the force of the explosion. Smoke and flame engulfed the entire concrete island.
Footage of Fort Drum exploding, April 13, 1945.
“Cover!” shouted Schafer. The men on the landing ship covered their heads. Moments later a shower of dirt and pebbles rained down upon them. Fortunately, the heavier pieces of concrete had not fallen so far out, or the landing ship could have been severely damaged.
The men uncovered their heads and looked at the hell they had made of Fort Drum: wreathed in flame, smoke pouring from every opening, the 14-inch gun turrets charred and useless, metal glowing orange, crumbling pieces of concrete deck falling into the orange inferno that had once been the command station.
Captain Biancho grinned. “Schafer, send a message to Major General Chase. Tell him Fort Drum has fallen. Manila is ours.”
* * *
The destruction of Fort Drum was total. Every single one of the sixty-eight Japanese soldiers inside was killed, obliterated in the explosion.
The capture of Fort Drum marked the end of major U.S. operations in Manila, although the city was not completely cleared of Japanese troops until early March. The invasion of Luzon was the largest American operation in the Pacific War, involving more U.S. troops than had fought in North Africa, France, or Italy.
If you enjoyed this vignette, check out Phillip Campbell's The Story of the Philippines: God's Rampart in Asia. While the book is an outstanding introduction for young readers (ages 12-18) to the history of the Philippine archipelago from earliest times right up through the the 2020s, even an old guy like me learned a tremendous amount reading it!
If you are a Catholic homeschooling family like we are, you probably know Mr. Campbell's work quite well. Beyond his numerous student-friendly classes at Homeschool Connections, he is also the author of the very popular Story of Civilization series published by TAN. If you are not familiar with these excellent books and their associated resources, and you have kids ages 8-18, check them out. Our kids have read and re-read the books, and the audio books have accompanied us on many a long car ride.
In The Story of the Philippines, Campbell once again employs the formula he used so effectively in The Story of Civilization, combining straight-up history with clever and often amusing vignettes. The vignettes help bring the history to life, allowing the reader to witness events through the eyes of those who experienced them, whether Butuanese ambassadors to the court of Song Dynasty China, merchants from the kingdom of Tondo attacked by Japanese pirates, or Moro rebels deciding whether or not to make peace with the Spaniards. We even get a glimpse of the Battle of Manila Bay through the eyes of our old friend, John B. Tisdale.
In one of my favorite vignettes from the book, we meet one of the first native Filipino saints, Pedro Calungsod, and Blessed Father San Vitores who were missionaries among the Chomorro people of Guam in the 1660s. With permission from the publisher, I offer this vignette below to give you a sense of how good this book is. Enjoy!
The lay catechist Pedro Calungsod and the Jesuit Father Diego
Luis de San Vitores were walking up the road from the village
of Tumon. After baptizing Mata’pang’s daughter, the two men had
spent a good part of the day speaking with the Chamorro villagers
and teaching the boys of the village to use the Rosary. The prayer
beads of the missionaries were particularly popular among the
Chamorro. The two exhausted men trudged up the dusty road
wearily. They were looking forward to returning to their mission, but
Pedro was a bit worried.
“Those medicine men did not look very happy to see us,”
said Pedro. “Do you suppose they will give us any trouble when
Mata’pang returns?”
“It’s hard to say,” said Father San Vitores. “I know they are
threatened by us, but I don’t think they mean us any harm. So far the
people here have given us a warm welcome.”
“True, but have you heard
the rumors this Choco fellow
is spreading?” said Pedro
with a look of concern.
Father San Vitores
nodded. “I have indeed. He
is trying to make the people
doubt the sacraments. Make
them afraid of us.”
Some distance behind the
men, towards the village, there
was a great rustling noise.
“What is that sound,
Father?” said Pedro, turning back.
He squinted, looking back down the road towards the village, sheltering his eyes from the setting sun with his hand. “It sounds
like a celebration.”
“Not a celebration, my son,” said Father San Vitores. “It’s an
angry mob.”
Indeed, moments later a mob of Chamorro from the village
came running up the road and overtook the two men. At their head
was Mata’pang, their powerful chieftain. He was shirtless, as most
of the Chamorro went about. His face was red, the veins on the side
of his head bulging. In his hand he clutched several spears. Several
macanjas flanked Mata’pang, shouting with their faces contorted in
anger.
“This looks bad, Father!” exclaimed Pedro.
“Stand steadfast, Pedro,” said Father San Vitores. “The peace of
Christ will strengthen us.”
“You, priest!” Mata’pang shouted as he approached the men.
Father San Vitores stepped forward calmly to try to reason with
Mata’pang. He held out a large crucifix in a gesture of blessing.
“Mata’pang, peace be with you. Tell me, why have you—” but
Mata’pang was in no mood to talk. As soon as he was close enough,
he lifted one of the spears and hurled it at the priest. Father San
Vitores ducked quickly and the spear passed over him. Mata’pang
then threw one at Pedro. A young, athletic man, Pedro was easily
able to dodge the cast.
“Run, Pedro!” called out Father San Vitores.
“I will not abandon you, father!” Pedro yelled, stepping forward
to protect the priest. At that moment Mata’pang cast another spear.
This one struck Pedro squarely in the chest. He fell to the ground,
clutching his bleeding breast with the spear still protruding. “Christ,
save me!” he called out as he tumbled into the dust.
Immediately one of the Chamorro who was with Mata’pang
fell upon Pedro and struck his head with a machete, splitting his
skull. Pedro groaned. “My son!” Father San Vitores called out. The
priest knelt beside Pedro and absolved him quickly before the young
man’s eyes rolled up into his head. “May Christ receive your soul!”
he murmured, holding the crucifix before the eyes of his dying
companion.
Almost as soon as he did, the priest felt a searing pain in his
gut. He looked down and saw a bloody spearhead protruding from
his belly. Did that come out of me? He thought to himself in shock. He reached around behind himself. His fingers touched the solid
wooden shaft protruding from his back. The blood ran down the
tip of the spearhead and dripped into the dust. Lord, into thy hands I
commend my spirit, he prayed silently before collapsing.
Following the vignette is a brief note describing what happened next:
Mata’pang and his men stripped the bodies of the two men, tied heavy stones to their feet, and sank them in the ocean. Then Mata’pang took the crucifix of Father San Vitores and smashed it with a rock while blaspheming God. Pedro Calungsod and Father Diego Luis de San Vitores would both be revered as martyrs. Pedro was canonized in 2012 by Pope Benedict XVI and is now honored as a saint. His feast day is April 2. Father San Vitores was beatified in 1985 by John Paul II.
While the book is definitely written for a younger audience, I freely admit that I learned a tremendous amount from reading it. My own very expensive education in the 1970s through 1990s contained almost nothing about the history of the East in general or the Philippines in particular. One of the prime virtues of this book is that it does a great job placing the story of the Philippines within the context of world history, as players from Brunei, China, Japan, Spain, the Netherlands, Britain and the United States all show up as characters in the Story.
For Americans of Filipino background, this book will provide a great introduction to the land of their heritage that they are unlikely to encounter in US public or even Catholic schools. If you are an American with Filipino family members (as many of us are), this book will give you insights into the fascinating cultural background of your aunts, uncles and cousins. Finally, if you are an American Catholic who knows many Filipino-Americans from church—and really, who doesn't?—won't they be surprised when you start asking them about Lapu Lapu, or La Naval de Manila, or the People Power Revolution, or the Bojinka Plot?
To find out more about The Story of the Philippines: God's Rampart in Asia by Phillip Campbell, or to order a copy of your own, visit the Arx Publishing website.
The more one delves into history, the more one is humbled by what one doesn’t know. Case in point...
March 15 is the anniversary of the beginning of a naval campaign fought between two colonial powers in the year 1646 half-a-world away from Europe.
Having grown up in an English-speaking country, I often catch myself adopting the conventional historical view of the British navy as presented in literature and film as an unconquerable force. Their most common foes—the Spanish and the French—are normally presented as formidable but hapless. They are numerous enough to appear to be a challenge, but ineptitude, laziness and cowardice always lead to their undoing. This perspective creates an impoverished knowledge of naval history which tends to ignore instances where the naval arms of nations not Britain achieve great victories.
One such victory which I have only encountered very recently (while editing a forthcoming book entitled The Story of the Philippines by Phillip Campbell) is La Naval de Manila—a series of naval battles between the Spanish and Dutch in the Philippine archipelago that decided which European power would rule the Philippines for the next 250 years. Featuring an earthquake, desperate acts of courage, five against-all-odds battles, and a healthy amount of divine intervention, La Naval de Manila has all the elements of a fine epic novel, let alone a thrilling action-adventure movie.
The battle pitted a fleet of eighteen well-armed Dutch corsairs against the scanty forces that the Spanish could assemble to meet the threat. The aim of the Dutch was nothing less than to wrest the Philippines from the Spanish and capture their treasure fleet from New Spain (Mexico). To accomplish this feat, the Dutch organized their ships into three squadrons. These were meant to coordinate their attacks at separate points and thereby spread thin what little defense the Spanish could muster.
Further hampering the Spanish, the capital city of their Philippine possessions—Manila—was a wreck, literally. The city had been rocked four months before by a tremendous earthquake as well as several aftershocks. Describing the magnitude of the quake, Fr. Joseph Fayol, an eyewitness, wrote:
In the first shock, one hundred and fifty of the finest buildings, which in other cities would be called palaces, were totally destroyed; all the other houses were so damaged and dangerous that it has been necessary to demolish them completely. It may be said with truth that only a semblance of Manila remains....Whole Indian villages were overthrown, as their huts are built of so light materials, bamboos and palm-leaves; and hills were leveled. Rivers were dried, which afterward flowed again; others leaving their beds, inundated the villages; great fissures and even chasms, appeared in the open fields. In the Manila River, the disturbance and commotion in its waves was so great that it seemed as if they would flood all the country. [Fayol, Relation of the events on sea and land in the Filipinas Islands...]
To meet the Dutch threat, the Spanish pressed two huge galleons into service, the Encarnación and the Rosario. These already ancient vessels had recently arrived from the arduous journey from Nueva España and were in rough shape. Though ponderous, these great ships possessed a powerful array of weaponry, which was further augmented by guns stripped from forts on land, as described by Fr. Fayol:
In [the Encarnación] were mounted thirty-four pieces of artillery, all of bronze and of the reinforced class, which variously carried balls of thirty, twenty-five, and eighteen pounds. The [Rosario] was equipped with as many as thirty pieces, of the same capacity—although on account of the deficiency in this sort of artillery, it was necessary to dismantle some posts in the fortifications of this city and of Cavite.
The governor-general of the Philippines, Don Diego Fajardo, chose General Lorenzo de Orella as commander and chief of the Spanish squadron. Fr. Fayol offers this heroic description of Don Orella:
...General Lorenzo de Orella y Ugalde, a Biscayan, under whose charge the vessels had sailed from Acapulco [was chosen] not only because of his proved bravery, his experience in the art of war, and his services and commands in both the Northern and Southern Seas, as well as in these islands (particularly in Mindanao, where he fought hand-to-hand with a gigantic Moro and killed him), but because of his well-known Christian spirit of modesty—which, for success, are no less important than valor.
Not trusting to mere earthly power, however, Don Fajardo agreed to allow four priests to accompany the flotilla, two in each ship. As both ships bore religious names, they were sent forth under the protection of Our Lady, the Virgin Mary. Fr. Fayol explains:
As a result of excellent teaching and the fervor of these fathers, arrangements were made that all of the men should, in the first place, purify their consciences with the holy sacraments of penance and communion; that they should take as their special patron saint the Virgin of the Rosary; that in order to bind her further, they should vow to her a feast-day in thanksgiving for the victories which they expected to receive through her agency; and that every day all should recite their prayers aloud, on their knees, and in two choirs—the prayers of the rosary before our Lady's image, the litanies of the most holy name of Mary, and finally an act of contrition.
Beyond these acts of piety, Don Fajardo caused the Blessed Sacrament to be exposed in several churches throughout Manila from the time of the departure of the galleons until their expected return.
When all was made as ready as temporal and spiritual efforts would allow, the Spanish ships boldly sallied forth to meet the more numerous Dutch in what should have been a very lop-sided affair. However, as Fr. Fayol admits, the Spanish had one thing going in their favor. The hoped-for coordination of the Dutch fleets failed and each one arrived on station at different times, allowing the Spanish the opportunity to fight each of them in detail. The first fleet arrived in Spanish waters in early March and were detected by the Spanish on March 15. Fr. Fayol provides an excellent account of the battle which followed, and I am only too happy to allow his voice to describe the proceedings:
On arriving at the entrances of Mariveles, the [Spanish] ships were placed in battle array, the artillery loaded, the matches lighted and the linstocks ready, the rigging free, and other preparations made. This was done because the sentinels [on Mariveles Island] warned our men that the enemy were, with their squadron, not far from that place; and that they might expect at any moment to encounter the Dutch—although in fact the latter were not descried until the fifteenth of the said month of March. At nine o'clock in the morning of that day, our almiranta [the Rosario]which had pushed ahead of the flagship perhaps half a league, and was sailing with a northwest wind—fired two cannon-shots and lowered the maintop-sail as a signal that it descried the enemy. The flagship put about, and followed her, and from the maintop they soon saw a sail in the distance, but it was impossible to overtake it; and it soon disappeared, because it was favored by a fresher wind than our ships had.
After that, our galleons were left becalmed until one o'clock; and at that hour were descried from the flagship four hostile sails, which were sailing toward her aft, with an east wind. It was two hours before they reached the flagship, and in that space of time the men were stationed, the ships cleared, the posts reconnoitered, and all other arrangements made, both spiritual and temporal, required by the occasion. The almiranta fell two ship-lengths astern of the flagship, and in this position the ships awaited the enemy, in order to fight them.
As soon as the enemy came near, they extended all their ships, and without attempting to give a broadside to our flagship, passed, in line to larboard, and the enemy's flagship began the battle by firing a cannon. Our commander immediately commanded that response be made with two shots—one with a thirty-pound ball and a cylinder of the same weight, which tore open all their cutwater at the bow. The enemy's ship went on in this condition, and the others continued to exchange shots with our flagship. Recognizing their own strength,
the enemy tried to approach the almiranta, which they supposed was not so well armed, being a smaller ship. But they were received with equal valor and spirit on our side, our vessels firing so often and throwing so many balls that they could not be counted.
The fight lasted about five hours, and the mortality and damage were so great that all the anxiety that the heretics had felt to reach our ships when they thought to conquer us was now directed to separating themselves from us. They anxiously awaited the night, which was now approaching, to make their cowardly escape, which they did with lights extinguished. But the enemy's almiranta did not succeed in doing this in safety. It had been the most persistent in the attack upon our flagship, and remained to our leeward. It was so badly damaged that its cannon could not be fired, and hardly could it flee. Our ship was so near it that our commander had the men ready at the bow to board the Dutch ship, but the darkness of night forced us to abandon the chase, on account of the danger from the shoals which the pilots declared were in that place.
It was noticed that the enemy did not use lanterns as they had formerly done, seeking protection for their armada. Our commander ordered that they be used in our ships, and that the lights be allowed to shine very brightly, in order that the enemy might come to look for us.
Our people fully intended to renew the pursuit at daybreak, to finish their defeat, but when day came our two galleons found themselves alone, and did not know what course the enemy had taken. They followed the Dutch, in the direction which they thought most probable, as far as Cape Bojeador, which is at the farthest end of this island of Manila. From there our ships returned, as the coasts were now secure, to the port of Bolinao, in order to send to this city dispatches announcing the result of the battle.
This was regarded as a brilliant victory, not only because of the disparity in the number of ships, but because of the little damage our side had sustained. In that battle not a man was killed, and comparatively few were wounded. It was evident that the enemy's loss was great, although we could not then ascertain it correctly. But afterwards we learned that many had been killed and wounded, and that two of their vessels were rendered useless.
This Spanish victory was only the first in a series of battles which would take place over the next seven months. In each, the elderly Spanish galleons would prove too much for their nimble Dutch adversaries, continuously repulsing their attacks but proving too slow and poorly manned to capture them.
After the third battle, Don Orella retired and was replaced by Don Sebastian Lopez who was in command of the Spanish ships when the Dutch made their final effort in October of 1646. This battle again ended in failure for the Dutch whose flagship was barely able to escape after a severe mauling. This repulse effectively ended Dutch pretensions in the Philippines. Fr. Fayol concludes his accounts of the battles, saying:
All these exploits are worthy of great praise...According to the estimate made by well-informed persons, although we fired, in these battles, over 2,000 cannon-shots, and the enemy over five thousand, we had only fourteen killed, and comparatively few wounded. While the enemy, besides the vessels which we sank, arrived at their forts so damaged, and had lost so many men, that for many a year they will remember the two stout galleons of Manila....
Thanksgiving was celebrated by a solemn fiesta, a procession, divine worship, and [a parade of] the squadron, with other demonstrations in fulfillment of the vow made to the Virgin of the Rosary, the city making a new vow to continue this anniversary every year.
[All of the above quotes are taken from Fray Joseph Fayol's Relation of the events on sea and land in the Filipinas Islands during the recent years, until the earthquake and destruction on the feast of St. Andrews in 1645; and the battles and naval victories over the Dutch in 1646. The English translation of this work is taken from The Philippine Islands, 1493-1898, Volumes 34-35, edited by Emma Helen Blair, James Alexander Robertson, 1906.]
The image of Our Lady of La Naval de Manila.
And indeed, this the Fiesta of La Naval de Manila continues to be celebrated in the Philippines to this day. The feast includes a procession of the statue of Our Lady of the Most Holy Rosary of La Naval de Manila, a life-sized figure of the Blessed Virgin that predates the battles, having been carved from elephant ivory in AD 1593. A look at the historical celebration of this feast and the statue of our Lady may be found here.
Given the circumstances of the battles, the victories were declared miraculous in nature by the Archdiocese of Manila in 1662. Pope St. Pius X bestowed a canonical crown upon the image in 1907, while Ven. Pius XII recognized the image in an Apostolic letter sent on the 300th anniversary of the victories in 1946. Pope St. John Paul II blessed the statue at a public Mass during his visit to the Philippines in 1981.
