Rebels of Mindanao (19 page)

Thornton tried some of the bland-tasting ferns Elaiza handed him, “I'd call this good luck. Dinner and drinks in a comfortable place, and where we're concealed from the enemy. And this is the second night we've slept together.”

Elaiza couldn't help smiling at Thornton's humor, “
Unintentionally
slept together! The first night was
more
uncomfortable for me.” But she lay down near him as they settled in to get some rest before the next grueling trek. Still, she found it difficult to fall asleep, uncertain about whether the apprehension came from the danger of their situation or because of the physical presence of the guy she felt next to her.

M
ahir did not like Lito, but respected him for the way he reacted to his captivity and was at least curious about him, a kind of academic interest. So he tested Lito, who was tied up and kneeling beneath him in the camp, “Stupid Christian, why does your kind of people come to impoverished lands like this and start new churches? Why give new names to old ideas? Do you think you can invent your own church?”

“I did not invent any church. I am just a security guard.” Lito knew he was being taunted, and he chose his words carefully. “Outsiders come to new lands for business and to spread their religions. In Mindanao, this was done by both the Muslims and the Catholics, except the Muslim traders arrived here first.”

“Prisoner, Jesus Christ may be your God but he is not mine. The God of Abraham is Allah.”

“People call their God many names in many languages, but I think
they all mean the same God.” Lito needed a tactful answer, so he answered slowly and deliberately.

“How can you be so arrogant as to think so? That is your personal arrogance, nothing more. Abraham was the trusted friend of God, and he deduced there must be a God, thus did God reveal himself to Abraham. And Abraham was not a Jew or a Christian; he was a man of God, a Muslim. What rules you Jews and Catholics make do not apply. Our destiny is the will of Allah.” Mahir did not like the attitude of his prisoner and was determined to set him straight.

“I do not know the rules of the Jews because I have never met a Jew in my entire life. And I am not familiar with the rules of the Catholics. I only repeat what the missionary told me.” Lito was getting worried by his captor's rising anger.

“Catholic or not, you are all unbelievers. Who is this guy John? What salvation, doesn't salvation just mean washing with water?”

“We baptize into the faith with water as a symbol, but it was the blood sacrifice …”

Mahir lost patience with what he saw as blatant stupidity and almost shouted, “Blood sacrifice!” interrupting Lito. “You mean like slitting the throat of a goat, or even young children bought from their parents for the purpose of pouring their blood over a new stone bridge to make it last longer? Yours is a religion for the insane. You preach peace, but you attack Muslims who are already living in peace.”

“God is angry because his law was violated in the Garden of Eden. Only Christ could atone for our sins by dying on the cross. Jesus is God and came here to die for us.”

“How can he be God if he is the Son of God? It does not make any sense. We know Jesus was a great prophet, but we also know the final prophet of God is Mohammad. Enough of this. Why do you Christians continue to sin against God by killing Muslims? Do you not get it? Your way will never work. The same message has been sent over the generations; happiness comes from worshiping Him only.” Mahir continued, getting more disturbed with the direction of the discussion. “You Christians are still fighting the Crusades, coming into peaceful lands and killing us so you can go to heaven. It is time for your missionaries to go back to Kansas and Mississippi and convert the inhabitants of their own
poverty-stricken cities. Start there! Why do they come to Mindanao, or Afghanistan, or Turkey? Because they think we are more stupid, easier to convert than the lost souls in their own country? Will they get a higher rate of conversion here? Your missionaries should stay in your homelands and leave other people to their personal superstitions, if that is what you think their beliefs are.”

“But I did not come from another land.” Lito stated the obvious. “I come from the north of here, where I was born, and only came to the city to find work.”

“Even sadder for you, you do the work of the Yankees and the Zionists, against your own people.” Mahir spoke while quietly counting through his string of a hundred beads that he always carried, especially useful in situations where there was nothing else to do.

“But I am just a poor security guard.”

Mahir was not being kind to the hobbled prisoner. “Look at these men with me. To have a home with a metal roof and a daily income, or to own a jeepney, would make them rich men. They have nothing and would not eat tomorrow if they were not members of this squad and humbly received the gifts of those we protect as we move through the land.” The captor was losing his desire to continue the discussion, but did not replace the gag in Lito's mouth, which obviously caused discomfort. Mahir was bored, realized he was tired, and shortly fell asleep. It was not so easy for Lito to rest, but he began to doze after the sun passed its highest point of the day and began to decline.

When Lateef observed that the light was fading, he ordered the team to prepare to move out for the second night's march. He called Ugly Maria before the others awoke from their afternoon sleep and instructed her, “The Christian is no longer of use to us as a hostage and tonight will be a difficult hike for us. Get rid of him and I will pay for you to have another of your tribal tattoos put on your forehead when we reach our destination.”

Ugly Maria understood the message and, before the rest of the party began to assemble their equipment, proceeded with her assignment. Lito was dozing, not quite awake. She replaced the gag and pulled him into the grass by his hair. She applied her usual technique; she flipped Lito around and from behind sliced his jugular vein open with her short,
sharp utility knife and completed the incision from ear to ear. It was quick. Lito looked surprised as he felt the life pumping out of his body with red, bubbling liquid spurting down his arms and torso and he knew he was dying quickly. Ugly Maria pushed the living carcass into the brush so its kicking would not disturb the men's meal of dry fish, warmed in the sun on the grass near where Lito had been sitting. The unfortunate security guard, just so much heavy baggage, would not be continuing with them.

The patrol moved out of camp shortly after nightfall.

C
olonel Reginald “Reggie” Liu had built a new, modern home in Manila with his wife, Trisha, on grounds next to Fort Bonifacio, near the headquarters of the Philippine Army. They were planning ahead for his retirement, which was scheduled in two years unless he succeeded in being promoted to general officer rank before then, giving him the chance to continue his career. They also had a home in Albuquerque, New Mexico, partly as an investment and partly as a future second home so that whenever Liu finally did retire they could be near their son and his wife. Many Filipinos, even family members of senior professionals and politicians, sought work overseas to supplement the relatively low salaries at home, including senior army officers, especially the ethical ones. In fact, during Liu's overseas assignments, Trisha had spent years working as a pharmacist in Santa Fe while Reggie fought the battles, overseas and alone. Liu was a gentleman, well respected by his contemporaries, his seniors in the army, and the men he led.

He was one of a select few officers from the Philippines who graduated from West Point, returning to his native country to fulfill his army obligations. His government sent him overseas again to attend the German General Staff College in Hamburg for a year. Liu spoke fluent German already, having studied it at West Point. Of course he spoke excellent English and several Filipino dialects: thus after a tour as the Defense Attaché to Korea, he had become something of a linguist. He even spoke passable French. But language was only one of his areas of intellectual interest and ability. He had graduated from Case-Western Reserve in Cleveland, Ohio, with a master's degree in mechanical engineering, and he later taught engineering courses and thermodynamics at the Philippine Military Academy in Baguio. This was in addition to duty assignments as a professional officer, among them commanding an infantry company and later a battalion in the field.

Liu was now nearing the end of an assignment as military advisor to the Philippine congress, reporting to Martin Galan, Chairman of the Committee on National Defense, with whom the President consulted closely on military matters. Galan held the highest congressional office with direct access to the military, and, according to the laws of the Republic of the Philippines, civilians were supposed to control the military.

Newspapers were already reporting that Galan would be selected to become the next Secretary of Defense, but he had received no official word yet. The stories in the
Philippine Star
were a positive omen for him; it seemed that if the papers floated a theory that sounded good, the regime would go with the flow and make the rumor a reality. Galan had a real chance for the promotion, and great implied power already. The military would simply do what he said; they read the papers.

Liu had his personal opinions and issues with Galan, who was more than his boss; he was the man with whom he most often spoke his heart. In his official government position, Congressman Galan was far senior to Liu, but they had known each other since childhood, and then reconnected in the army, when both were stationed in central Luzon. Galan went back to Manila after his three years of military service and created for himself a successful civilian career in business, opening a private bank with a network of branches throughout the country. Satisfied in
many ways with his business success, he chose to serve his country in another role and made a courageous—because in the Philippines politics is a dangerous business—move into politics, and in his fourth term, took on his new role as a senior trusted advisor when his political mentor was elected President. Liu thought Galan was incorruptible, not subject to the crazy schemes that abound in the Philippines. He could not imagine him being involved in a junta, coup d'état or revolution.

Liu and Galan met at least once a month at the Aristocrat, a downtown Manila restaurant that dated back to the time when Spanish culture was omnipresent in the Philippines. This time Liu arrived first, in uniform, and was immediately shown to the best table. Galan arrived a few minutes later in smart civilian dress, a light blue barong tagalog over black trousers, a style favored for formal occasions and that, when worn during the day, was an indication of higher class. They sat opposite each other after shaking hands and exchanging smiles.

Looking out over Manila Bay across Rojas Boulevard, Liu mused, “What happened to the Spanish language? It is so beautiful and essential. All you Pinoys have Spanish names but you can't speak a word of it.”

“No, but at least they gave our forefathers Spanish names or we would still be just Bong, Dong and Jun.” Martin Galan knew about Liu's interest in languages and jested with his friend.

“Even my Chinese ancestors seem to have run out of names, so my parents called me Reginald. It sounded like an English gentleman to them, I guess,” Liu responded.

“And here we sit, speaking English in a Spanish restaurant next to the American Embassy while our national language is Tagalog.” Galan pondered one of the dichotomies of the Philippine nation, the diverse culture, or rather the collection of different cultures that make up the nation and simultaneously keep it apart.

“Or is it? I thought our national language was English.”

“Maybe it should be, and at least it's an official language, but can you get a Cebuano sergeant to shout commands in English to a Tagalog in the heat of an attack when they are pinned down by heavy automatic weapons fire, or when they're supposed to attack? He'll revert to the language he knows they will understand,” Galan said. “We have to teach them better.”

“You need to appropriate more money.” Liu, thinking like the professor he once was, gave it right back to Galan.

“I know English must be taught in schools, but patriotism and nationalism are not tied to any one language. We both know that English is not essential for daily living here, perhaps, but it is indispensable for global involvement and awareness, not just for our officials but for those who elect them.” Galan was turning serious and philosophical. “And for the workers who go overseas. They need to learn it also.”

Galan was touching on one of Liu's lingering doubts about the future of democracy in his country. He put a possibility to Galan. “Think about the kind of government our voters will choose next. They might elect the best neighborhood karaoke singer rather than a statesman.”

“They better elect a statesman soon, or there will be no state. Even now, groups in Mindanao blame the Kadayawan bombing on disgruntled military officers who want to overthrow the government because of corruption,” Galan responded. Now they were getting to the real issues. Galan manifested his discontent when he did not answer Liu, but twisted the fancy restaurant's red cloth napkin into a knot.

Encouraged by the direction their discussion was taking, Liu vented what was on his mind to Galan. “To get to the root of the problem, we must admit the truth. Some younger officers think all of us are corrupt, skimming off government cash and property for ourselves.” Liu believed in the constitution. It was a trade-off he made willingly; between greed and duty, he had chosen duty.

“They have a point, or did at one time in recent history,” Galan admitted, “but those young officers who raised their own flag over a fancy hotel and thought they were protesting for a new morality in government were not thinking about Mindanao. It never entered their minds. They were only thinking about the northern half of this country.”