This formality disposed of, the reception committee invited us to step upon the pavilioned raft and be wafted ashore. It sounds like a dignified proceeding, but of course it was not. We had to climb over the rails of the launch and, more or less, slide to a secure footing on the frail floor of the curious craft. Contrary to my secret expectations it kept afloat and we were soon landed at a little fishing village down on the beach, where Army ambulances waited to take us to the town of Balanga, a mile inland. Just outside of Balanga we passed under a great bamboo arch, the sort of thing the Filipinos erect and ornament with great skill and ingenuity. This one was so thickly decorated, however, with small American flags that little of its intricate framework was visible. A piece of white bunting stretched across the top of it bore, in large letters, the inscription: “Glory Honor to the Commission.”