In the town just over from where I live, there is a memorial built by some of the men who were helped by the daring Filipino people during WWII, who risked not only their lives, but the lives of their families and countrymen to save these people.
These people who were helped were American soldiers, forced to walk with no shelter, little food, no water, in the hot, steamy tropics of the Philippines, after the American surrender during the war.
Sorry the photo is so fuzzy. This is a description of the area of Bataan and Corregidor, the path of the Bataan Death March, and what the Americans and Filipinos had to endure during the siege and subsequent surrender of the island nation during the war.
My father, Walter Chatham, was one of them. He escaped while trying to help his Captain along the way. It was quite by accident, but they fell 40 feet into a ravine, and when the troops went by, a Filipino family took him in, along with his Captain and another man who had escaped 10 minutes later.
The American Flag still waves due in part to the brave Filipinos who helped the American soldiers along the way, and all during the war, to regain their freedom in the Philippines.