The work detail lasted about seventy days. After that, it was back to another death march and on to Cabanatuan Prison Camp where I remained for two and a half years. There I removed the band from the watch and wrapped the face in medical gauze and tape. It made a small, easy-to-hide package. At last, when my camp was liberated, the watch and I made the trip home. When I walked through the door, I learned that my mother had died. Now her watch, which had become a reminder of my own survival, was also a reminder of her life.
I had the watch restored to its original case and added a chain identical to the original. Once again, my mother’s watch was a delicate ladies’locket-style watch. I gave it to my wife. Later, I found that my brother still had the original watch chain. When he heard that I had restored the watch, he gave me the chain. Now, eighty-four years after my mother bought it, my daughter wears the watch. It is still in working condition.