The Mighty Few

I’ve been into many battles in this god-forsaken war.

If it had not been for the bombing of Pearl Harbor, I would be complaining about the frequent raids and operations that never seem to give any strategic advantage as far as the Pacific campaign goes. Emotions are high, morale is low and everybody is just too tired - most of us have never set foot on dry land for months.

But today would be different. I didn’t lose men – friends and brothers, only to lose this war. Giving up would be an insult to their sacrifice. I looked outside my cockpit window and acknowledged my wingman, I could barely see him through the glass but I can sense his anticipation and fear. My squadron would be part of the planned bombing raid of Japan, who would not feel afraid?

We are to escort B-17 Bombers to the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki to deliver the final blow that hopefully, would end the war. Today is different. Today, the entire world rest their hopes on us – on me and what’s left of the entire Pacific fleet.

We already made huge progress in the ensuing advance, our destroyers sunk just enough Japanese warships to allow our carriers to get to striking distance. We had some casualties of our own, but not enough to abandon our mission. When our bombers took off, we knew there’s no turning back.

Two more from my squadron perished before even reaching Japan’s shores. Victims of the infamous suicidal Japanese pilots. I took down about three Japanese planes – no one will get close to my bomber, right now, the bomber is more important than my life. 

We were winning. As we got closer, there was less resistance. Then something happened – base ordered us to hold fire. After we received the message, all hell broke loose. Planes ahead of us were falling one by one like flies. I could barely see about five Japanese aircrafts in the distance, working its way towards our bombers. We broke formation to engage but before we could fire our rounds another order was issued for a full retreat!

Reluctantly, I ordered my squadron to go back. “What the hell happened?” Only about half made it back to the carriers. Later that night we were called for a debriefing.

The Admiral explained that they intercepted a radio broadcast from one of the Japanese planes. All the planning and hard-earned advances towards Japan’s shores put to waste by just one radio broadcast. It was a routine sweep of the airwaves and they say we were lucky that one of the operators caught it. “What was the broadcast?” one of the squadron leaders shouted, losing his cool. The Admiral looked at him sternly and relayed the broadcast in Japanese.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I lost my cool as well.

The Admiral looked at me, with defeat in his eyes, he said. “In English it means: Let’s volt in!”


..

Theory of Relativity

I live in a village in Pasig - in a simple 2-storey house, amidst the towering mansions of my neighbors. Its really depressing driving home from work, passing by their neatly manicured lawns and impressive facades, and ending up in my not-so-impressive driveway.

I spend the nights in the upstairs balcony dreaming of a time when mine would be the most impressive house in the neighborhood, where passersby will gaze in wonder at the large bay windows and imposing columns that dominate the facade. 

On a night, much like any nights, i was in my balcony gazing at the heavens, then suddenly i saw a shooting star cut through the dark sky. You know what they say about shooting stars, so i gave it a go, "I wish i had the biggest and most beautiful house in my neighborhood!" With that, i went inside and tucked myself into bed.

In the morning, much like any morning, i woke up, ate breakfast, took a bath, dressed up for work, entered the garage and slid into the driver's seat of my car. I switched the remote of my garage door on and started backing up.

The moment my car was out of the driveway, my jaw dropped at the sight - shanties and make-shift houses surrounded my now towering, 2-storey house - biggest and most beautiful house in the neighborhood - a neighborhood in the depressed areas of Quezon City.

Wish granted.

Ice Cream

“Angelie Nieves Bautista, Salutatorian.”  Sumunod ang palakpakan.

Tumayo ang isang babae, naglakad papunta sa harapan habang tumutunog na parang mga mumunting kampana ang apat na medalyang nakasabit sa kanyang leeg.  Sinundan siya ng kanyang mga magulang na tuwang tuwa na sila’y muling aakyat ng entablado. Mapagkumbabang  tinanggap ng babae ang medalyang inabot ng Principal, binigay ang medalya sa kanyang ina at yumuko. Nagpalakpakan muli nang isabit ng ina ang medalya sa anak.

Patuloy pa rin ang aking pagpalakpak kahit humupa na ang mga papuri. Napalingon sa akin ang ibang tao sa likuran, waring nagtataka kung bakit hindi pa ako humihinto.

“Roman Abesamin Cruz, with honors.” Palakpakan ulit.

Bumaba na ang babae sa entablado akay-akay ng kanyang ama. Tumalikod ako at umalis sa sinasandalan kong pintuan sa likuran ng multi-purpose hall. Sa nararamdaman kong tuwa at lungkot, hindi ko napansing tumutulo na pala ang aking mga luha. Yumuko ako at patago itong pinunasan.

“Paalam anak. Congratulations. Mag-iingat ka sana sa pag-aaral mo sa Maynila,” bulong ko nalang sa aking sarili habang umiiwas sa mga taong nagsisiksikan sa likuran.

Sa aking paglabas, nadaanan ko ang maliit na palaruan ng eskwelahan. Walang ano-ano’y napaluha akong muli habang inaalala ang ngiti ng aking anak habang kumakain ng paborito niyang ice cream na binibigay ko sa kanya noong bata pa siya. Tuwing matatapos ang paglalaro niya kasama ang mga kaibigan, dito kami parating nagkikita, “Salamat Manong! Sa susunod pede po bang yung cheese flavor naman?” nakangiting sambit ng munting Angelie.

Sumikip ang aking dibdib. Pilit kong inaalis sa aking isip ang nakangiti niyang mukha. Nagsisisi man ako sa mga pangyayari, wala na akong magagawa.

Lumabas ako ng gate ng eskwelahan na mabigat ang bawat hakbang – tulak tulak ang hindi pa nauubos kong benta na sorbetes.

Sundo

Patuloy ang pag-aalulong ni Sputnik. Animo’y may nag-uudyok sa kanyang gambalain ang natutulog nang mga kapitbahay. Tumingin ako sa orasan, alas diyes na ng gabi. Kailangan kong gumising ng maaga kinabukasan upang sunduin ang aking asawa sa pantalan. Sa ingay na ginagawa ng aking alagang aso, malabo nang mangyari iyon. Hindi na ako makatiis sa ingay na kanyang ginagawa kaya’t minabuti kong lumabas ng bahay at tignan kung ano ang tumatawag ng kanyang pansin. Tinawag ko ang aso, pansamantala itong natigilan nang mapansin niyang lumabas ako ng bahay. Lumingon siya sa aking direksyon, winagayway ang kanyang buntot at lumapit sa akin. Tumahol siya at bumalik sa dati niyang kinatatayuan at pinagpatuloy ang kanyang pag-alulong.

“Sputnik, tigil! Magigising ang mga kapitbahay!”

Nang mga oras na iyon napansin kong bukas na ang ilaw ng kuwarto ng kalapit na bahay, naaninagan ko ang anino ni Aling Belen na dumaan sa harap ng bintana. “Nakita mo nang ginawa mong aso ka, nagising mo na ang kapitbahay,” pabulong kong sinabi kay Sputnik. Lalapitan ko na si Sputnik nang makita ko ang asawa ni Aling Belen na lumabas ng kanilang bakuran.

“Pasensya na po sa ingay ng aso, ipapasok ko nalang siya sa loob,” mabilis kong sinabi.

“Ayos lang iho, hindi rin naman ako makatulog dahil sa init, magpapahangin lang ako sandali,” sagot ng matanda.

Sasabihin ko sanang mag-ingat siya sa paglalakad nang makita kong may umaakay sa kanyang isang matangkad na lalaki. Dumating na marahil ang panganay nilang anak na nag-tratrabaho sa Qatar, ilang taon ko na ding hindi nakikita si Badong at kapansin-pansin ang pinagbago ng kanyang tindig at pangangatawan. Kinawayan ko sila, hinila si Sputnik at pumasok sa bahay.

Tanghali na ako nagising kinabukasan. “Kasalanan mo ito Sputnik,” bulong ko sa aking sarili. Mabilis akong naghilamos at nagbihis. Bumaba ako ng kusina para makapagkape man lang -wala nang oras para mag-almusal, sigurado akong magagalit na naman ang aking asawa kapag nahuli ako sa pagsundo. Iniwan ko ang pinag-inuman ko ng kape sa lababo at binuksan ang pinto palabas ng bahay. Himala, hindi ako inunahan ni Sputnik palabas ng pinto.

“Sputnik!” sigaw ko, “labas na!” Nakayukong naglakad palabas ng bahay ang aso. “Ano bang problema mong aso ka?” Lumabas ako ng bahay, tinali si Sputnik sa balkonahe at naglakad papunta sa terminal ng tricycle.

Naabutan ko si Aling Belen na palabas ng kanilang bakuran. “Pasensya na po sa ingay ng aso ko kagabi. Dumating na po pala si Badong galing Qatar. Daan kamo siya sa bahay kapag may oras siya nang makapagkuwentuhan naman kami.”

“Nakita mo na si Badong?” tanong ng matanda.

“Opo, nakita ko sila ni Mang Jack kagabi habang nagpapahangin,” sagot ko. “Saan po ba kayo papunta ngayon? Sabay na po tayo papunta sa terminal”

Umiling ang matanda, waring naguguluhan.

“May nasabi po ba akong masama?” tanong ko.

“Hindi maaari yang sinasabi mo iho, hindi pa dumarating si Badong dahil kakatawag ko lang sa kanya kagabi,” nagugulumihanang sagot ng matanda.

“Kung ganon, sino po kasama ni Mang Jack?” Bigla akong kinabahan, “nakabalik po ba siya galing sa kanyang paglalakad kagabi?”

Naluha ang matanda. Napatigil sa kanyang kinatatayuan at timingin sa akin, “Iho, patay na ang asawa ko.”

Hindi ako nakapagsalita kaagad. “Ang lalaking yon!” bulong ko.

“Kelangan nating pumunta sa prisinto, nakita kong may kasamang lalaki si Mang Jack kagabi, maaaring siya ang may kagagawan nito!” halos hilahin ko si Aling Belen sa kanyang kinatatayuan.

Patuloy na umiiling ang matanda, “Iho, inatake sa puso si Jack sa kuwarto namin, mga bandang alas diyes ng gabi, hindi ko maintindihan ang sinasabi mo!”

Napatigil ako. Natulala. Waring tumahimik ang paligid habang paulit ulit kong inisip ang sinabi ni Aling Belen. Atake sa puso. Alas diyes. Si Mang Jack.

Nabasag ang katahimikan ng marinig ko ang mahabang alulong ng isang aso.

Si Sputnik.

Monday Blues

Miguel frantically reached for the alarm clock to stop its incessant blare. 10 minutes past 7.

 “Damn it!”

He barely slept. The noise coming from the construction site in front of his parent’s house kept him awake for most parts of the evening. It has been 3 weeks since the project started and up until yesterday he hasn’t seen any signs that it would be completed any time soon.

 “How long does it take to lay water pipes anyway?”, he blurted as he got out of bed.

 It’s a Monday and he needs to be at work by 9:30, or at least arrive before his boss does. After a hastily-taken bath, he grabbed the first polo shirt he laid his eyes on and dressed up while having an internal debate whether to eat breakfast or not. He decided not to and hurriedly went out and hailed a passing jeepney.

“God, I hate Mondays!”

His father, watching the diggings, shouted at him: “Miguel, umuwi ka ng maaga mamaya, walang magbabantay ng bahay, may pupuntahan kami ng nanay mo!”

At 24, Miguel still lives with his parents, not out of choice, but out of necessity. He can’t afford to rent one of his own with his salary, so he has to put up with his parent’s constant scolding and the daily 2-hour commute to work. He nodded to acknowledge his father’s call and waived him off.

The jeepney was packed but he managed to squeeze in between an old lady and an even older lady, both probably heading for the wet market.

“Perfect! I hate Mondays!”

 The heat was unbearable and the engine exhausts coming from the streets are making things worse. Barely sitting for almost an hour, Miguel’s arms are already aching from hanging on to the rails, supporting maybe half of his weight.

“Para nalang po sa tabi!” The old lady in his right suddenly shouted. The jeepney stopped, the old lady slowly left her seat and disembarked.

“Finally, some space,” Miguel mumbled, adjusting his sitting position. But before his back could touch the back rest, a girl came rushing to fill in the vacated sit. Tough luck. He was about to say something impulsive when the girl turned and looked at him.

And then nothing.

He suddenly felt empty.

Suddenly, he didn’t mind the noise, the smell, and the heat.

There was nothing except the girl beside him, her shoulders touching his – and still looking at him. His mouth partially open, he totally forgot what he was about to say. Looking stupid, he gave up the idea of speaking.

“My God, she is beautiful!” he thought, trying hard to compose himself.

He expected some kind of retort from her but instead she just smiled, probably amused by his vacant, idiotic stare. He felt awkward and realized he hadn't made a very good first impression on her.

The next 30 minutes was torture.

He wanted to talk to her, or at least know her name, get her number, but for some reason, he can’t muster the courage to even move. She occasionally turned her head in his direction, probably feeling his uneasiness. Each time, he turned to the opposite direction. “Torpe! Torpe!”

Another 10 minutes of mustering.

Suddenly a gust of wind blew from the side, he barely noticed it but he was sure he caught the scent of perfume, mild and sweet. He moved a little closer, pretending to get something from his pocket, he caught the scent again. Heavenly.

Suddenly, she turned. Her hair lashing out like little whips, striking his right eye. He winced and covered his eye with a hand. Before he could get a handkerchief out, his eye was already swelling with tears, dripping profusely. She turned, looked at him inquiringly but with no apparent intention of asking why he was ‘crying’. Miguel was about to explain but again, he could not seem to form reasonable sentences with his mouth.

“What a second, first impression!”

Not only did he felt like an idiot now, he felt like an emotionally-unstable idiot. Whatever courage he mustered in the past minutes was now wiped clean together with his tears.

Another 10 minutes.

Still nothing. He shifted a little bit to avoid cramps in his leg. She shifted to. For a moment he thought he saw her glancing at him. Or was it just his imagination, manifesting his desire for attention from her? And then another glance. Their eyes met, she immediately shifted, turning her back towards him. “Damn it!”

Every minute, he was getting closer to his destination. Every minute, lost opportunities. She might even get off before him.

Her back was still on him. After each sudden stops, she got closer and closer to him, until her back rests comfortably on his side. She made no move to widen the gap between them even when the passenger in her right already left. Even then, he could not gather the courage to speak. Then she called, "Para na po!"

He felt suddenly out of breath. All he could do was watch her as she turned, and slowly left her seat. 

She glanced at him, a trace of disappointment in her eyes. She saw his dismayed expression, then she stopped.

"Sorry for the eye, I'm Niki by the way," then she continued and disembarked. 

"Do you always take this route?" he called back to her.

She turned and said, "Only on Mondays."

Shoot

Click. Click. Click. I like - no, I love the sound of my new SLR camera. After months of saving part of my monthly salary, I finally managed to buy a decent, out-of-the-shelf model. Today would be the first time I’ll be using it in a trip. I’m not a professional but my friends love my pictures, even then, when I was using my old point-and-shoot camera. They say I have an eye for beauty even when my subject has anything but.

I’ve just arrived in Hong Kong for a 3-day business trip, and I’m looking forward for the ‘business’ to end and for the ‘leisure’ to start. I long for the clicks – the sound just keeps resonating in my head.

I gently tapped my SLR bag, “Soon, my baby, soon”.

It was raining when I stepped out of the airport and people were frantically hailing cabs to get to their destinations. It was already 8 in the evening but I chose to wait it out. I sat at one of the available sits, my bags at my feet and my precious camera carefully cradled on my lap. No need to rush, I have the rest of the night to myself before work officially starts tomorrow.

I planned my destinations in my head, picturesque cityscapes, Disneyland, cultural sites, the contrast of the old and new – great subjects for my pictures. The images were passing in front of me like I was dreaming… Wait… I am dreaming. I must have dozed off while waiting.

I opened my eyes, looked outside, "Great!" no more rain… I looked at my lap, "F&@%!" no more camera.