“More than the War”

Life and war have a lot in common. Every day since the war ended I have
thought of that. Like war, our lives have been full of ups and downs. Like war, we have to
fight for an honorable cause. Like war, our lives will end up having losers and winners. But
unlike war, life is very much meaningful.
After almost ten years, I am back again in my hometown. It was the first
time for ten years that I spent my vacation here in Apgahan, Patnongon, Antique. So the
night I returned I decided to do my usual recreation.
“So I heard you’re the one who just got back from Manila after ten years.
What were you doing back there?” This girl is very much different from all others I have
met in my night life at the baile. I don’t know what is it all I know is that I got to say it to
her.
“I graduated in FEU and currently work as a typist for a lawyer.” I know in
her eyes she’s curious. So I decided to tell her something impressive.
“You want to know something? I was a volunteer medic for the secret
resistance force against the Japanese a decade ago.” This one will catch her. If not, then I
don’t believe in fate anymore.
”Oh, so tell me bright boy. Tell me the tale of your courage.” Yes, she did
become curious. I set my mind and began to tell her my experiences. I was never shy nor
proud on sharing my ‘tale’.

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Before the war, I was a stowaway kid. The only person I was with was my
Nong Frederico. I was 20 when we heard the war broke out. We just did what everyone
else did. We adapted to survive. As long as we had our basic needs and we were able to
hide from the Japanese, we knew we would be okay.
“We can hide there at the kubo along the sugar cane field at the mountains
and just get back here if we receive the news.” The only thing that was new in my brother
was the sense of responsibility. After all, he was the one who first thought of making a
separate life to our parents.
“You sound like we’re going to be the Japs’ whores, like what I heard they
do to young girls.” Frederico’s eyes turned to me as if it was him I called a whore.
“Feliciano, that is not a good joke.” Now that’s my straightforward brother.
It never took Japan much time to successfully take hold of our country. For
the first two years of the Japanese occupation, we were able to make a normal life. We
never became hungry. There were enough natural resources of food in our place unlike
what I heard what happened to other towns where there were extreme shortage of food.
And though we were like gypsies or nomads but eventually we got used to it. We never got
tired transferring places time after time and if we did, we’d playing with fire with the Japs.
It was the thing we had to fight for. The rule was simple, but not easy. It’s our new life. It’s
now our reality. We just waited and prayed for the news that the American forces would
bring back peace to the islands. Or at least that was what I heard we should do.
It was until in 1944 we got involved in the war. There were news that the
secret resistance was recruiting for volunteers to join them. I somehow predicted that my
brother will enlist himself. He had the qualities of an honorable soldier.
“Before large units of the American-Filipino force surrendered to the Japs,
the commanding officers carried out orders that there should be remaining units that will
hide in the mountains and continue the resistance.” Frederico stood up as he announced
to me the news he heard from the neighborhood.
“You think that’s just it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Based on what I knew about the Americans, they might just need someone
to tell to how great is America. Vainglorious Westerners.” As expected, my brother did not
laugh.
“How many times do I need to tell you? That is not a good joke.”
“You don’t need to tell me. I know that you want to join the guerilla forces.”
He stopped for a while. For my older brother Frederico, war is war. War is
never taken as a joke. You could get lost and die, or you could stand with courage, win, and
bring home glory. Now that is war.
 I collected all the courage deep down in my heart. My brother was the only
remaining family and friend I have now. Then I decided what I would say.
“I want to join with you.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” There was a hint of smile across his face.
We both went to the guerilla hide out and enlisted along with the town’s
bravest men. There I regretted stereotypically calling the Americans ‘vainglorious
Westerners’. Yes, that’s not a good joke anymore. Maybe it was because there’s nothing to
boast about wearing poor clothes and torn off shoes. Or maybe the war had taught them
the real values of life, the values I was about to learn too. There, I can still remember the
American and Filipino soldiers making jokes using offensive and vulgar language about
the cheap rifles made in a place they call Massachusetts. They share the same sense of
humor.
After three hours of standing in line, we were now divided according to our
assignments. I was appointed with the medics and Frederico was with the front line
guerillas. It meant that we could never work as partners.
During the first week, we, volunteers at the medics, were taught on
different kind of bandages on different kind of injuries and everything we should learn on
our work. Every once in a while, probably once in two weeks, injured soldiers were
brought to our hide out. Most of the times, we volunteers were the ones who carry their
bodies and follow a strategic route made by trained officers to the mountains so no one,
especially the Japanese officers, could trace us. Some of the wounded soldiers were
fortunate enough to survive. Some died even before reaching the mountains.
There was one night, we were having our meal when one of the injured
American soldiers said that he would like talk to one of us before he dies
“Is there something you want, sir?”
“Don’t call me sir. I’m Private Travis Conway. Just call me Travis.”
The 6 feet tall body of Travis lay on the ground. There were copious
amount of blood dripping from his wound in his abdomen which he covered with his arm.
I knew deep inside he wanted to cry, scream out loud. There was also blood coming from
his mouth. As he forced to move his jaw, he began to vomit more splattering blood. He
raised his hand as if he’s asking for help, exposing his mutilated digestive entrails and
entangled intestines. There’s a visible bullet shot in his pancreas. I was only hoping he
would not ask me to perform coup de grâce. God help me.
“To die with honor…”
It was honor for that American. Vainglorious. Or maybe glorious. I feared
that some time later it would be the bloodstained body of my brother lying in front of me
saying his last words. If that would happen his last words must be ‘that is not a good joke’.
Dismembered organs? Blood splattered corpses? Nah, what’s hard to
swallow was the existence of traitors, Filipino traitors. There would be times when people
had to gather in the town where the traitor should point someone who was involved in the
resistance for the Japs to kill anyone that snake pointed.
In the first time I was in the gathering, I found the idea of ‘informants’
wearing brown bags with holes jokey and somewhat absurd. There, after passing me by
and walking around the lines for at least three times, the informer had now pointed
someone two or three rows away from me. The finger tipped directly in front of an old
farmer who stood 4 feet tall. The eyes of the farmer never changed as if he was already
expecting his death. The farmer was not, in any ways, involved in our secret operations.
Obviously, the informant was just a scoundrel who was desperate to do anything just to
survive. There come the Japs speaking in their tongue getting near to the old man. Without
any prior warning, a bayonet ran through the old guy’s neck handled by a Japanese officer.
The Jap pulled the blade out of the neck very slowly. This caused a plentiful amount of
gore sluggishly oozing out. As soon as the sharp edge was drawn out, the other two Japs
began stabbing the body of the old man using the same tools with intense vigorous force
repeatedly. There were cries everywhere in the crowd. I could only wish that the masked
traitor was also crying. I looked directly into that bastard’s covered face. Sadly, I did not
find any hint of conscience on his eyes. Then I noticed that tears were also coming from
my eyes. An innocent man was killed while I, who was involved, got safe. Life was unfair.
No, it was war that was unfair. War has always been unfair.
Innocent people got killed regularly during the gathering. It did not matter
if you were really involved or not as long as Judas claimed you were, you should be
praying for your soul by that time. I don’t know if I should be disgusted by the informant’s
way to survive. If I were asked to choose between my life and innocent people’s, I need
great courage just to answer any of the two options.
Despite all of those, we were still able to find ways to have fun. You know
we should all have time when we had to set the war behind us and recreate. I often go out
every night with my new found friends including my fellow volunteer Tonio.
“Hello, beautiful lady.” Tonio used to say that whenever a young lass would
pass by our bench. Boys will be boys. That was the only rule we had to abide in our
masculine merrymaking. I could still remember one of those girls responded, apparently
disgusted, to us.
“Don’t be too quick.”
“I know what you mean. You want to take everything smooth and slow.”
Tonio said it with dramatic passionate emphasis in the ‘smooth and slow’. All of us laughed
so hard that we did not notice the beauty in front of us had passed away. We just sat there
the whole night talking about fun things, toying the female passersby and enjoying the
scenery of the farm from a distance.
As time passes by, I enjoyed the fresh air, the image of the horizon and the
smiles across my friends’ faces like I never enjoyed any of those before. It made me think,
after the war, what would I do? Yes, we’d go back to our lives. But I never had a life before.
I only did what was needed to live. I knew I should find something to do for a living.
When I had gone back our home early at dawn, I told my brother every fun
things we did. Guess what Frederico said?
“That is not a good joke.” Welcome back to my normal life.
The guerilla operation continued despite possible threats from the
Japanese or their worthless informants. I continued carrying and bandaging soldiers’
bodies and my brother was still in the front line of the forces. All of it continued for more
than two years.
“There was a recently deceased American soldier who told me about the
films he had watched, Feliciano. He was very proud that he used to work as a projectionist
that he can watch all the films he wanted for free.”
“Well, I never watched one. What did he say?”
 “He said something about the last film he had watched before he was
assigned in the Pacific. It was his favorite film. It starred his favorite actors - I can still
remember their names very well - Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman. I forgot the title.
It was about an ex-couple who found themselves again after a long time in the middle of
the war in Europe and planned to run away together. That sounds impressive to you?”
“I don’t know. It sound like the production is big and expensive.”
We, my friend Tonio and I, were having our midday meal when a Filipino
officer came rushing to us.
“Mind eating with us sir?”
“Thanks, I’m fine. Gentlemen, we received a good news.”
It was hard to say in words how pleasing it was to hear that the American
forces have come back in the promise of bringing back peace to us. Just as far as we’re
happy with the idea that the Philippines was about to be liberated, it was like we’re the
ones who’d personally be liberated. We’ve been waiting for almost five years for their
promise to be true. In those five years we remained loyal to the Americans. We’d never
lose hope.
For two weeks the faces of the Japanese in our town lessened and lessened
until they’re gone. For those two weeks the guerilla forces teamed with the American
forces. For those weeks the number of injured soldiers brought to us also increased. I
almost never slept for two reasons. First, there’s a lot of work to do. Second, the Americans
were winning. After it, we should only wait for the news that the Japs have surrendered.
“I was thinking of something. Now that the war has ended, I think we
should go back to our dear nanay and tatay.” I suggested to Frederico who smiled a little
and turned to me.
“I also thought that. Feliciano, I’m proud having a courageous brother like
you are. Now, I think you should celebrate with your friends before we go to our parents
tomorrow.”
Celebration was the first thing I have thought as soon as we received the
news of the surrender of the Japanese. I was out again with Tonio and other volunteers I
made friends with, doing our usual leisure activities all night long.
“Why did the Americans not join us?” I wondered.
 “Maybe they made a more honorable there at the brothel.”
All of us laughed. Out of the blue, a fellow volunteer came near and
interrupted us to announce.
“We caught a traitor. He is currently tied in the tree.”
We followed our co-volunteer to the sugar cane field and found a familiar
man tied up in a tree surrounded by American and Filipino guerillas and relatives of those
the snake pointed for the Japs.
“They threatened to kill me, they – “
“You’re a sissy. You are a big disgrace to our island!”
Suddenly, the man head butted the traitor using a thick metal stick with a
strong brutal hard striking force as if it was his last hit. Unfortunately, the traitor was still
breathing. He thumped more and more only to find his shirt filled of blood. A few more
vengeful men got near with their weapon whacking the traitor multiple times in the
different parts of his body. After that, all I could see were an excessive amount of gore and
some entrails soaring and spurting out of the corpse. Some from the crowd were satisfied.
Some were disgusted. I thought the war has ended. It seemed that the war did not fully
end. I could only be sure that I wanted to go back to my house.
I told my brother what happened. He said nothing. The next day, we found
ourselves sitting on the couch we last sat on eight years ago.
“It’s good that you have decided to go back.” There was no trace of anger in
my mother’s voice, just happiness.
“So, I heard you two did well in the war.” There was a mix of happiness and
pride in our father after we have told our story in the war.
I gathered all the courage I had and suggested,
“I realized now that we’re together, I wanted to correct my mistakes. I want
to go back to school.”
Hardly a year after I reunited with my parents, while my brother stayed
there with our parents, I was sent to Manila to finish my high school, college and proceed
to work. There I fulfilled my promise to my parents.

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
 “And I hope, frankly speaking, I have impressed you.”
“You know, it’s quite late. I gotta go.” The girl was indeed walking away.
“Hey wait! My name is Feliciano Pacheco. What’s yours?!”
“I won’t tell that. So I’ll be sure we’d still meet.’
I could not see the girl anymore. I did not even say goodbye.

Somehow, the war had made me a better man. If I did not enter the war, I
could have been the same blithe stowaway bastard like I was before. The war introduced
me into different people and different aspects of life. I saw life in a lot of things possible
through war. But I promise that someday, I would not let my children enter the war. I
would not let them see the horrors I need to see just to learn what I failed to learn before. I
would teach them the values they need to learn, the values that I have learned in the war.
Some things were more important than you yourself. Some things were not meant to be
laughed at. There were some things that you were held responsible for. In my life, I had to
see much horror just to know it. I hope that the future society would not need to
experience horror to be more mature in accepting those things. I hope there is no need for
another war to come. A war, that started as nothing and will end up as nothing, is nothing.
The world had had enough wars. We had had enough wars. There are enough wars in our
lives that we ourselves can handle. There is no need for more.
Honestly, I still miss the life working in the middle of the war. There it
became crystal clear to me what I really want and what I do not want. I had to be more
mature and responsible in facing problems. I do not want any more jokes. And there’s only
one thing that I really want.

-LIFE-