Amazing Grace!

Matanog, Maguindanao 

14 May 2000

It was our seventh day in the battle zone. We were right smack in the middle of the ongoing all-out war declared by then President Joseph Ejercito Estrada against the MILF – a secessionist group that has been fighting for self-determination in some areas in Mindanao. The war was steadily grinding into a bloody and destructive one as casualties rose and villages were abandoned. In a war like this, nobody wins. The entire country practically loses as communities are plunged deeper into poverty and violence.

We started our movement very early that morning. We did not even have time for a meal. In Scout Ranger-type operations, one must always make do with whatever amount of time he has because when it’s time to move, everybody moves. Nobody can opt out on the basis of a simple necessity because everything is labeled as “simple” in the field.

The order of movement had 15SRC in the lead. Then, it would be:

• 17SRC led by 1Lt Montano Almodovar, a member of PMA “Bantay-Laya” Class of 1994 and SR 121-95, and his Executive Officer, 2Lt Napoleon Agoncillo, a member of PMA “Kalasag-Lahi” of 1997 and SR Class 135-99;
• 8SRC under 1Lt Michael Banua – a classmate of 1Lt Daanton in PMA and in SR training;
• 2SRB Command Group of Lt Col Coballes and Cpt Freddie Dela Cruz, the Executive Officer / Operations Officer of 2SRB, who is a member of PMA “Tanglaw-Diwa” Class of 1992 and SR Class 107-92;
• 2SRC led by the late 1Lt Ted Tuibuen, an exemplary graduate of the Philippine Army’s Officer Preparatory Course (OPC) and SR Class 110-93; and his Executive Officer, 1Lt Marianito De Joya – a classmate of the late 1Lt Jake Paler in OCS and a member of SR Class 125-96; and
• 18SRC, led by my PMA classmate 1Lt Laurence Somera and who is a member of SR Class 125-96 and his Executive Officer, 1Lt Jeffrey Cauguiran, a member of PMA “Mabikas” Class of 1996 and SR Class 131-97. 

We moved cautiously the whole morning as we crossed creeks and passed through many concrete bunkers. Tactically clearing those fortresses was tedious. We had to be careful, in case the enemy planted landmines and improvised explosive devices (IEDs) along our line of advance (LOA).

There is no room for mistakes on the battlefield. Carelessness or stupidity can easily send one to kingdom come in an instant.

We utilized a movement called “bounding over-watch” whenever the terrain allowed it. It is a military movement technique of alternating movement between units or teams with precise coordination. As one team moves, the other teams take an over- watch posture to secure the one on the move. The teams switch roles as they move forward particularly in areas considered dangerous, or risky for the troops. It was already 11:30 A.M. when we got to the top of a steep hill. That was when I saw the leading team, under Ranger Venancio Tagsip Jr. – a member of SR Class 106-92 -- in fighting stance and doing hand signals. Enemy fighters had been sighted!

Seeing my lead team, I quickly moved up front to the position of the team leader. It is standard operating procedure (SOP) for us Scout Ranger commanders to, “Always lead from the front and be in the thick of the action when shit hits the fan!”

What I saw was a sizable number of enemy fighters in a huddle. But in an instant, they took a fighting formation. One of them noticed us!

The atmosphere suddenly became tense. “This is it! This is a huge and messy fight,” I said to myself.

Wasting no time, I gave commands through hand signals and everybody moved to take their combat positions. Scout Rangers are trained to do combat maneuvers stealthily and silently. Every troop readied for the impending brawl, taking their own stand. Everyone was on edge – and the moment seemed to last for eternity.

My radioman gave me the handset to relay the situation to my Company Commander, who was tactically positioned in the middle of our formation at that time, as we were the leading company of 2SRB. Being in the middle of the pack up-front is the most tactically-sound position of a battlefield commander as he can easily see the front and control his troops right from the center of it all.

Four more Scout Ranger companies were behind us, completing the entire 2SRB. Moving alongside us was a Marine Battalion Landing Team (MBLT) of the Philippine Marines spearheaded by their elite unit, the Marine Corps Force Recon (MCFR). 

Then, just 200 meters in front of us were more or less 80 BIAF fighters, who were apparently expecting us, all ready to pound us to pieces! I knew there were even more of them waiting to tear us apart.

Using the sparse vegetation as concealment and coconut trees as cover, we took our fighting positions. The enemy fighters were doing the same thing. They maneuvered forward by moving from one coconut tree to the other towards our positions. They knew we were there, and they were raring to meet us head on! My heart was pounding so hard and fast. I could almost hear its rapid beats. I knew death and destruction was certain in a few moments. We held our breaths as we fixed the front sights of our rifles for the dreaded bloody gun battle that would soon ensue.

My Scout Rangers were already in their skirmisher positions and were ready to pull their triggers once I gave the order. They were raring to mix it up with the enemy. The troops knew it was best to be on the offensive and never on the defensive.

The enemy kept moving forward and they seemed fearless to us. We took our fighting positions. There was no turning back now. My troops knew fully well that we would not give an inch to the enemy. We would fight to the end, and we would honorably fall where we stand – if need be.

The die was cast. We had crossed the Rubicon. There was no turning back the clock, and no time to hesitate. To do otherwise would likely spell the worst tragedy for us.

When the enemy was less than 50 meters away from us, I finally gave the order, “Fire!” while pulling the trigger of my rifle in that split second. 

Boom! Brrrttt! Kablamm! Boom! Brrrrttttt!

All hell broke loose!

It was like Chinese New Year celebrations when all firecrackers were set off to drive bad spirits away and spare everyone from misfortune. It was the worst kind of symphony with an uncoordinated orchestra playing every musician’s piece with its own beat and tempo. There was nothing but eerie noise produced by deadly weapons of lethal rounds, mortars, grenades, and what-not.

One can easily be disoriented by the deafening exchange of gunfire, grenade explosions, shouting, and battle cries from both camps. We heard enemy fighters shouting “Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!” [“God is great! God is great!”] as they continued to fire at us.

Everyone was in for the brutal fight. I knew it was all or nothing for my troops. To be unforgiving and ruthless in every firefight is one of my standing orders – no compromises. After all, there is no second place in combat. All second placers in combat end up either seriously wounded or dead.

Each man was raring to get his hands first on the enemy’s throat. Somebody has to pay the price, and it should be the enemy. For us Scout Rangers, winning in combat – where life is at stake – is non-negotiable. We were trained to win battles at all cost.

After about ten minutes of intense gun battle, I heard my radioman, Ranger Rodolfo Papillera Jr., a member of SR Class 135-99, moaning as tears rolled down from his eyes. He was badly hit and was cringing in serious pain! I could see the soil splattering and debris hitting me as enemy snipers’ and machine gun fires reached our position. In a hushed tone, I told him, “Lipat ka sa kanan! [Move to the right!]” I encouraged him to move as I saw the barrage of bullets hitting the left side of his position. Patches of soil flew as enemy bullets rained a few inches from his position. He did his best to move but he couldn’t. He was grimacing in pain. He yelled, “Hindi ako makagalaw, sir! Tinamaan ako sa likod, sir! [I can’t move, sir! I got hit it in my back, sir!]”

I knew it was really bad. There was no denying it, but I could not simply tell him lest he lose faith in his chance of surviving the horror.

Then all of a sudden, I felt something hit my left shoulder. I shrugged it off, but a biting pain followed after a few seconds. Still, I tried to disregard it. My focus was on the raging firefight we were in. I need to ably lead my troops. There was nothing that could needlessly occupy my mind, nothing more important than to excellently lead my men in battle.

Several minutes passed, after which I felt a stinging and excruciating pain as my blood oozed and soaked my battle uniform. I felt my warm blood flowing on the skin of my torso.

Damn!

Reality set in. “This is it. I was hit and it was bad!” I was bleeding profusely. It was time to face the horrors of another brutal exercise.

But as quickly as the blood flowed out of my body, I kept giving orders to my troops and firing back at the rushing enemy fighters. It was like a nightmare fighting those fierce mujahideens, as they labeled themselves. I was horrified to see them stand up after being shot. It could be the unexplained rush of adrenaline of a man with a death wish that kept them going. So, we kept on hitting them as much as we could to totally neutralize them. We learned later that they were using methamphetamine hydrochloride (an illicit drug that is commonly known by its street name “shabu”), as evidenced by the drug paraphernalia the troops recovered after the encounter. 

Simultaneously, I was giving updates to Lt Col Coballes, my battalion commander, and to 1Lt Daanton, my company commander, as I struggled with my wound, and led my men in battle. My commanders who were in different positions needed updates from me so they could assess and make accurate decisions for the entire 2SRB contingent under the circumstances. They had limited visual as to the size of the enemy unit my troops and I were viciously engaging with up close. Further worsening the situation, we were having problems with communication as our decades-old radios got hit by enemy rounds and began to falter in the heat of battle. As the gun battle became intense and seriously disorienting, reliable radio communication was a serious necessity.

As I was trying to grab the radio handset from my wounded radioman, Zing! An enemy bullet hit the left temporal part of his head. His brains splattered on my face!

Oh God!

I was horrified as I looked at his deformed skull soaked in warm blood! Looking at his eyes, I knew he was gone the moment he was hit.

Damn!

My dependable radioman was dead. I was so mad at the sight of him in a pool of his own blood. I could not simply see him that way. He was a good soldier whom I never had any problems with when it came to military discipline and conduct. In fact, he was always ready to lend a helping hand to anyone who needed assistance. That day – May 14 – was his birthday. He was only 24 years old, and he was my good buddy!

Thoughts raced through my mind. I needed to be extremely focused. I had to steel myself in order to survive and get my troops out of the rut. 

Amid the raging firefight, several of my men attempted to pull me out from the enemy’s firing line. Unfortunately, every time my troops tried to get closer to me, the enemy would deliver a barrage of deadly fire resulting in more casualties on our side. The enemy was cunning. They knew they had a wounded officer in their iron sights and that my troops would certainly rescue me – or recover my dead body, if it had come to that point. The enemy was banking on the fact that whoever attempted to get me out of trouble would get hit 99.99%.

Son of a gun!

Lethal rounds, after all, are never personal. They are indiscriminate, and were generally labeled, “To Whom This May Concern!” Hence, when they head your way, better get the hell out fast because they certainly won’t give a damn who you are.

End of the Road?

Lying prostrate on that forsaken spot on that battlefield, I realized I was at my most helpless point. The enemy wasn’t giving me any quarter. No mercy – they very well understood that word. They would let me die slowly in pain on that patch of land where I lay bleeding.

It seemed like nobody could pull me out of my position anymore. “My comrades have given up,” I thought. I could understand as I didn’t want more casualties on our side. I accepted my fate, waiting for the final bullet to take me to eternity. I readied myself. I knew it had been a good fight, and I did all that I could. I would die with my boots on, and with honor.

I started to recall God’s goodness, grace, and mercy in my life. I started praying for God not to save my life but to forgive me for not living my life for His honor and glory. After all that was the main purpose why I was created. Though I thought of Him as my Savior, I did not live at that time as if He was my Lord. Yes, I had serious spiritual issues with trusting and obeying. 

I accepted my lot. I thought, “Perhaps my life and purpose just end here. Let me die in battle then.”

But suddenly, memories of my lovely wife and daughter flashed through my mind. My daughter Bea was barely two years old at that time. I imagined her calling me, “Papa! Papa!” while I chased her around our small house in Iloilo. I also missed my lovely wife Ena. I remembered our time together, albeit limited – the loud laughs, the funny and restrained public displays of affection whenever we were together. Oh, I seldom see my Ena and Bea! I have missed a lot of important family time with them, all in the name of duty, honor, and service to country. The nature of my profession brought me to many war-torn places and I have been away from my wife and daughter for most of our family life. Have I been fair to my family all this time? Have I been a good husband and father? Above all, have I been a good steward of what God has given me? Have I been a good witness for Jesus?

Tears started rolling down my cheeks. Despite my hesitation, I blurted out, “Lord, please give me a chance – a chance to make up for my shortcomings to my family and a chance to make it right with you, and serve you.” That was all I could mutter, and then I slowly closed my eyes readying myself for that one final bullet to my head at any moment. My last wish was for my death to be quick and painless, if and when the final bullet hit me.

God’s Hands

Out of nowhere, I felt a hand pulling the back of my uniform, dragging me towards the safe zone. Was I hallucinating already? I thought it must be part of the natural thought processes of a dying person. At any rate, I didn’t care as long as I physically got out of that sure-death sorry-position I was in!

In my half-conscious state, I saw my comrades, Rangers Ronnie Catague – a member of SR Class 143-01 and Elmo Colorado – a member of SR Class 121-95, fearlessly and roughly pulling me out of the kill zone. They were able to close in to my position amid a hail of deadly enemy gun fires. They were dragging me and at times, were pushing me. Audacity at its finest. They were relentless, they would stop at nothing to rescue me from certain death. They were crazy-brave! But by their unbelievable tenacity, we were able to finally crawl out of the immediate enemy kill zone and they were able to carry me towards our safe zone. I knew in my heart that it was God’s hand at work. He uses people for good. That time, He tapped my fellow Rangers to save me from serious physical harm or death.

The gun battle continued. It was unrelenting and unforgiving in its intensity. I was very dizzy due to blood loss. My world was spinning and the pain was excruciating despite the adrenaline rush of the moment. They tried to tie a bandanna around my shoulder to stop the bleeding. My wounded left arm was dangling since I already lost control of it. Worse, we had no medic team present! I had to endure the pain until I could be medically evacuated. But all the time I was thinking, “I will survive my wounds but I might not be able to play competitive basketball again. Well, at least I can still shoot the ball with my good arm. Thank God!”

After more or less three hours, which seemed like an eternity, the firefight and gun fire became sporadic and rescue helicopters were eventually on their way to pick us up. Three of my gallant troops – Ranger Rudy Bacyadan (SR Class 135-99), Ranger Danilo Cabical, Ranger Rodolfo Papillera Jr. – and one from the Philippine Marines made the ultimate sacrifice while several of us were wounded.

•••

After almost six hours of pain and blood loss, I was finally ushered to a UH-1H Helicopter. As I listened to the loud choppy sound of the helicopter blades, I gazed at the lifeless bodies covered with Army ponchos at my feet. It was a humbling moment for me. I realized that I was not Superman and that I was expendable – we all were. 

I felt my heart being torn apart slowly as I stared blankly at my troops’ dead bodies on the floor of the helicopter. They were my brave brothers-in-arms – they were heroes! I closed my eyes and tears quickly rolled down. My heart was heavy. It was wailing loudly for all my buddies, both the killed and the wounded.

Though I was in serious pain, I was able to mumble, “Thank you, Lord.” The near-death experience truly humbled me. Thoughts flashed through my mind. God was calling my attention to some things. I needed to be grateful, and examine my purpose and significance in life. Did I have a purpose? Definitely I did! I just needed to listen to His voice! I had to be humble.

“What is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him? You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor.” Psalms 8:4 to 5 (ESV)

In his English Standard Version (ESV) Study Bible commentary about the foregoing verse, Dr. John MacArthur stated, “If the whole universe is diminutive in the sight of the Divine Creator, how much less is the significance of mankind. Yet, God made man significant. He was created in the image and likeness of God to exercise dominion over the rest of the creation” (cf. Genesis 1:26-28). 

Live to Fight Another Day

I was so worn out from too much blood loss, combat fatigue, and mixed emotions. I closed my eyes as we headed to the nearest military hospital in Camp Siongco, home of the 6th Infantry (Kampilan) Division of the Philippine Army in Awang, Maguindanao.

Amid the chaos and my roller coaster ride between life and death, I didn’t inform my family of what had happened until after the surgery was successful. The military doctor on duty gave me three pieces of metal he had taken from my shoulder. 

He explained that the bullet must have hit a hard object like a rock or stone and ricocheted to my shoulder. As a result of debridement, the majority of my deltoid muscle was removed, thus creating a concave-like area on my shoulder.

It was tough to be confined at the hospital. However, I was still thankful that I was so blessed.

Aside from my family, there were other meaningful endeavors that gave me some comfort. Before we were deployed in Matanog, Maguindanao, I was in Iloilo. I had been training and coaching a basketball team made up of kids aged 13 and younger. I remembered they were playing their championship game when I was on my second day at the hospital. In fact, I was able to coach my team via cellphone and we won the championship. Imagine that! That simple achievement reinforced my thinking that “I’m the man!” – when in fact it’s all God’s grace. How shameful it was for me to claim glory that was beyond me!

After a few days, one of my soldiers handed me my newly washed uniform. The left shoulder sleeve of my upper battle dress was torn and ripped. My wornout lousy cap had three bullet holes on its sides. It gave me goose bumps to realize how close those bullets were to my skull. “Close hits,” I whispered while I shook my head in disbelief. I felt intense emotions – pride, shame, horror, and gratitude all rolled into one. I was overwhelmed by emotion so I just closed my teary eyes. Truly, God had great plans for me for extending His grace on this side of eternity. Amazing grace! 

--THE RESCUE (2019)

Reflections

Back then, I was so preoccupied with my own concerns that I was not really thinking much about God’s plan for me. My schooling in the PMA and the Scout Ranger Training School (SRTS) led me to believe what William Ernest Henley wrote in his Invictus, “I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul”. I just wanted a “progressive military career” as we call it in the Academy.

God allows us opportunities in life not to satisfy our selfish ambitions but to use these platforms for His honor and glory. We can only truly achieve our goals if they are aligned with God’s will and purpose. God often uses people who are not the best and the brightest so that in the end, man cannot boast but acknowledge God’s sovereignty. I like what the English Standard Version of the Bible said about Gideon in Judges 6:12,

“And the angel of the LORD appeared to him and said to him, “The LORD is with you, O mighty man of valor.”

The truth is, Gideon was not even close to being the best. But God allowed him to lead 300 men against the large Midianite army “without even firing a single shot,” as we say in modern military parlance. They simply blew their trumpets and shouted a battle cry as their burning torches and the noise simulated an attack by a large force. As a result, the Midianite army fled. This has become a symbolic military success story, just like the 300 Spartans at Thermopylae. Here is one classic example where God shows us that strength is not by “our might but by His might!” Ephesians 6:10.

 

--THE RESECUE (2019)

I Love the Infantry!

I had my short vacation at home after my graduation from PMA, and afterwards I reported to Headquarters Philippine Army. Other newly-commissioned Army Lieutenants in my class reported back with me. The Army leadership decided to send us first to undergo officers’ basic specialization courses. I chose Infantry as my specialization course. To me, being an Infantryman was the best you can be in the Army. It was the specialization that would get me closest to the battlefield. To borrow the words of the Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Ernie Pyle, “I love the infantry because they are the underdogs. They are the mud-rain-frost-and-wind boys. They have no comforts, and they even learn to live without the necessities. And in the end, they are the guys that wars can’t be won without.”

After completing our officer basic course, we were asked about our preferred Army units before we were issued final orders of deployment. I proudly volunteered to be a Scout Ranger. That meant the Army would need to be convinced that I deserved to be assigned to the First Scout Ranger Regiment (FSRR) for me to eventually become an organic officer of the unit. It was a tough choice. The unit is known to really go into many serious non-stop combat operations for days, weeks and even months. To be assigned in FSRR, an elite Army unit, is a matter of pride – and I was full of it.

There were 25 officers from our PMA class who enthusiastically volunteered. Ten of us, along with a graduate from a foreign military school, were chosen. The FSRR is known as one of the best special operations unit in the world. In terms of physical fitness, I felt like I was the weakest. On hindsight, I believe I was only on the radar of the special operations recruiters because of basketball. Those veteran special operators loved basketball! I’m glad they picked me from the tough lot. 

--THE RESCUE (2019)

A Glimpse to Plebehood (2)

As Plebes, we were subjected to endless “mase-mase” or any activity that would preoccupy our minds to prevent the thought of quitting, or going AWOL by escaping the premises of PMA. Our upperclassmen or senior cadets were hardcore adherents to the timeless adage, “An idle mind is the devil’s playground.” Hence, the philosophy for our perpetual physical agony – mase- mase all the way!

So, to keep the “devil” away from our consciousness, we performed different physical exercises en masse and in unison – conducted by the Second Classmen and Third Classmen – each weekend. Every session was an activity that produced buckets of sweat, and sometimes tears. But often in the midst of it all, the imposing and thundering voices of my two First Classmen basketball players would interrupt the activity.

“Fourth Classman Almonares! Pull out!”

“Ahh! Thank God for basketball!” I said to myself, as I rejoiced deep down with my fortune. “I was liberated again from physical misery.” In the Academy, any useful talent – be it in sports, arts or other fields – could give you much-needed respite from the grueling training. Every moment of free-and- easy time is a windfall of fortune to any cadet, particularly to a fourthclassman.

To me, hearing the familiar voices of my two upperclassmen were like those of “angels beckoning me and freeing me up from my misery.” Being called out from the formation was heaven- on-earth at that time. It meant that I was exempted (again) from hardship and was being cordially invited instead to enjoy the sport I love most – basketball. There is a temporal heaven indeed, I thought.

However, after the basketball game and right outside the court, it was all back to reality in an instant. Everything seemed to be hazy-crazy. All plebes must always be on the double. Time is always of the essence in the military. We were trained to always be ready to think and decide accordingly on our feet – for in extreme circumstances, such as in battle, there is no luxury of time. In the military academy, events and actions were designed to be fast-paced. Hence, every time we were challenged by senior cadets, particularly the Firstclassmen, with the question, “Why on the double?” our ready reply was always,

“Sir, the answer is very simple. The forces coming from the itinerate glances of the Immaculates are so powerful that the circulation of the corpuscles of the plebes upon which the stare is applied is integrated. This results in the gyrostatic effect on the paradoxical interior of the legs, thus, double-timing ensues. This develops an invulnerable machine in the body of the degraded

mammal due to the action of the rectilinear eyes, Sir.”

And, from time to time, some upperclassmen – to add more spice to our cadet life – would also ask us “How is life?” We were ready with our answer.

“Sir, life is as monotonous as the curvilinear concubitant wave of the peristaltic motion of a dilated cell. It is as tense as the state existing among the molecules of a highly compressed gas. As barren as the deserts of Africa where plants never grow. As gloomy as the thoughts of a thousand eunuchs on the death of Cleopatra. As hopeless as the crew of Christopher Columbus panic-stricken in the sea of darkness. As discouraging as the graceful shape of the adiabatic curve. As smooth as the sine curve, endless as the parabola, stubborn as the catenary, and meaningless as an imaginary function. Its memory brings an extraordinary sensation which tickles the convolutions of the brain and the cells of the spinal cord. In plain and simple language, life is a conglomeration of things too serious for a fool to appreciate, Sir!” 

But at the end of every day, a plebe would realize that everything he had confidently absorbed was hazy and that he had still a lot to learn after being asked and having answered the question “Do you understand?”

“Sir, my cranium consisting of Vermont marble, volcanic lava and African ivory, covered with a thick layer of case-hardened steel, forms an impenetrable barrier to all that seeks to impress itself upon the ashen tissues of my brain. Hence, the effulgent and ostentatiously effervescent phrases just now directed and reiterated for my comprehension have failed to penetrate the coniferous forest of my atrocious intelligence. In other words, I am very dumb and I do not understand, Sir!”

To be a Plebe is interesting. One must be philosophical, and humble, for a host of reasons – but oftentimes to survive the rigors of military training. 

--THE RESCUE (2019)

A Glimpse of Plebehood

During my first year, or “plebe year”, at the PMA, I was assigned to the Hawk Company – the best company, according to its members, in the Cadet Corps Armed Forces of the Philippines (CCAFP). There were eight companies all in all. Aside from Hawk, there were Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot, and Golf companies.

Plebe year was the toughest, as I had to make the transition from the life of a civilian to the regimented life of someone in the military. In the first two months at the PMA, we, plebes, underwent “The Beast Barracks.” As a part of it, we had to learn the Plebe Knowledges. These were cadet doctrines and affirmations that had to be memorized ad infinitum – no more, no less. There were a lot, but these are a few of them: How Long is Eternity?, Don’t Quit, and Are you Resigning?

We were told that memorizing the Plebe Knowledges would enhance our memorizing skills and, as such, prepare us for our academics. I didn’t appreciate our training back then. I could barely survive the day. Here’s a sample of a Plebe Knowledge that describes the way I felt during this time.

“How Long Is Eternity?”

“Sir, if it takes a bird from outer space traveling at the speed of a turtle that is taking his time and picks a grain of sand from the earth and brings it back to the place where he came from and deposits it there and does the process once in every million years, and after picking all the minute grains of sand on earth and depositing them on the bank of the galaxies of heaven, he brings them back to their places, eternity shall have just begun. I hope that the lazy and dumb bird will travel forth and my chinning and double-timing be made shorter than the beginning of eternity, Sir!”

--THE RESCUE (2019)

Grateful Heart

I had been part of many major combat encounters against the Abu Sayyaf Group before and some of the encounters involved rescuing hostages.

One of the most brutal combat encounters we had was in Balatanay, Isabela, Basilan on October 7, 2001. We had walked the whole night in order to hit the objective given to us by intelligence sources. According to the information, Abu Sayyaf commanders Khadaffy Janjalani, Hamisaraji Salih, Isnilon Hapilon, and Abu Sabaya led the group that we were going after. We thought they may have the hostages. But whether they did or didn’t, we would always answer the call of duty. We always gave our best in every mission. This meant “paying the ultimate sacrifice” if the situation called for it.

On that day, we were operating with the troops under the irrepressible Cpt Harold “Bullseye 6” Cabunoc, who was the commander of the 10SRC, and Cpt Montano “Rambo 6” Almodovar, the Operations Officer of the 1SRB. Cpt Almodovar fought with me just a year before during the All-Out War in Matanog, Maguindanao. Both officers are members of PMA “Bantay-Laya” Class of 1994 and SR Class 121-95. They were heroes in many combat encounters. They are now Lieutenant Colonels and are still actively defending the freedom of our country.

To fight alongside known soldier-warriors is both an honor and privilege. I got to learn a lot from them, aside from being inspired. It was a rewarding experience to be with men who had fully embraced the military profession and everything that it entails. I could proudly say they were men who truly believed in the nobility of the profession of arms and that they sincerely adhere to what General Charles de Gaulle of France once said about “Military Professionalism”, “Men who adopt the profession of arms, submit of their own free will to the law of perpetual constraint of their own accord. They resist their right to live where they choose, to say what they think, to dress as they like, it needs but an order to settle them from their own family and dislocate their normal lives. In the world of command, they must rise, march, run, endure bad weather, go without sleep or food, be isolated in some distant post, work until they drop. They ceased to be the master of their own fate. If they drop in their tracks, if their ashes are scattered to the four winds, that is all part and parcel of their job.”

The two gentlemen would later make waves for themselves in the military in later years. Lt Col Cabunoc rose to become the commander of 33rd Infantry (Makabayan) Battalion in Central Mindanao and led his unit to be the reputable primary facilitator of peace and development - while battling terrorists and other lawless elements simultaneously - in their area of responsibility from 2017 to 2019. Lt Col Almodovar, on one hand, would outstandingly lead the 3rd Scout Ranger (Excelsior) Battalion deep behind enemy lines in the five-month long brutal Battle of Marawi in 2017 against ISIS-inspired terrorists.

Warriors at Work

We started to traverse the tropical jungle in darkness sometime past midnight. We walked all night struggling with fatigue and sleepiness. Before the first light of day, we rested for a bit and observed the mountainous and heavily vegetated surroundings. Our senses were heightened despite the lack of sleep and the discomfort. We knew that, as we observed the target area for any sign of the enemy, they were also monitoring us, observing their surroundings, and looking for us.

Soaked with dew and perspiration, some of the troops undid the buttons of their uniforms to relieve their heat and exhaustion. The brigade of assorted insects and other creatures in the jungle bothered us constantly. There were mosquitoes, leeches, and others that I didn’t even recognize. I had been around these insects for such a long time, but I never seemed to have gotten used to their presence and “show of affection.” They were fond of biting our exposed skin, so intimate with their buzzes and stings. “Perks and privileges of operating in the tropical jungles”, I thought in jest.

At about 6:30 A.M., Cpt Cabunoc communicated through the radio that we would be descending towards the shore where houses were sighted. He was the commander of the leading troops and I was the commander of the troops behind them.

He said, “Jordan 6, this is Bullseye 6, over.” 

“This is Jordan 6, go ahead, over.” I responded.

“Jordan 6, prepare to move. We will be moving downward. Houses were sighted but no identified movements so far, over.”

“Bullseye 6, wilco, over.”

My troops and I made eye contact amongst ourselves and relayed messages via hand signals. Everybody was automatically on his feet with his heavy pack and ammunition-filled bandoleer. I suddenly thought, “It would be nice to lie down in bed and sleep all day.” I looked around and speculated, “Hmmm, I think my companions are thinking the same, but we must take care of this extraordinary business first.” So we got up and started walking in file formation silently and tactically.

After about 30 minutes of painstaking and tactical-descent towards the houses, Cpt Cabunoc called me over the radio and gave updates for coordination purposes.

“Jordan 6, Bullseye 6.”

“This is Jordan 6, go ahead, over. 

“Jordan 6, we are now slowly approaching a cluster of abandoned houses. Be ready to fight. I can sense the inevitable”, said Bullseye 6 over the radio.

Suddenly, a barrage of gunfire was heard.

Brrrrrttttt!!! Boom!! Kablaammm!!

The sound of the lethal, uncoordinated, and out-of-tune war orchestra was at it again! Bullseye 6 and his Rangers were “warmly welcomed” with hot lead by the enemy while closing in on a cluster of seemingly-abandoned houses!

We responded with equal force. All hell broke loose! The deafening exchange of gun fire reverberated in the jungle. A new unusual fireworks display had began.

“Jordan 6, maneuver your troops to the right, over.”

Bullesye 6 directed me to outflank the enemy to the right by occupying a tactically advantaged position and close in on the enemy position.

“Copy, sir!”

By that time, the disorienting smell of gunpowder had already dominated the air. Everyone tried to get the best position possible in the raging firefight.

As we rushed downward and maneuvered to the right of the leading troops, we were met by a volley of gun fire and rifle grenades from higher ground. We estimated it was about 75 meters from our position. We quickly dropped to the ground and looked for good cover. The enemy was relentless!

Hell-bent on outdoing the enemy, we managed to counter fire and interchangeably provided suppressive fires so other troops could find better defensive positions. We also communicated by hand signals to effectively determine the exact location of the enemy and also to avoid compromising our radio communication.

Cpt Cabunoc gave me another order, “Jordan 6, move forward to my location, over.”

“Copy, sir”, I quickly replied.

The battle raged on. The deafening barrage of gun fire and grenades continued for what seemed to be forever.

“Bullseye 6, Jordan 6, over. We are confronting heavy enemy fire from the high ground to our right, over!”

Suddenly, Cpt Almodovar was heard on the radio. “Bullseye 6, Rambo 6, over! I will maneuver and occupy the high ground right of Jordan 6.”

The exchange of fire was steadily getting heavier by the minute. It appeared there was no end in sight soon. The chaotic combat situation had opened the door to more brutality.

After some time, which we curiously did not even notice, Cpt Almodovar was heard again on the radio. 

“Jordan 6, high ground occupied and secured, over!”

The enemy fighters who were on the high ground had retreated upon the fierce assault of Cpt Almodovar and his troops.

“Bullseye 6, Jordan 6, this is Rambo 6, over. We got the high ground to your right, over”

“Yes!” I breathed to myself immediately upon hearing the reassuring radio messages of Rambo 6. Then after a while, close air support came and started pounding identified enemy positions with bombs and rockets. Watching the deadly ‘fireworks’ brought upon by the Air Force pilots, I wondered how many families would again suffer with the loss of their fathers, husbands, sons, brothers, uncles in the battlefield. 

Though temporary, I felt a sigh of relief amid the chaos. It was a feeling worth a thousand relaxing full-body massages. That kind of combat relief was almost like the smell of the sweet aroma of my favorite coffee brewing.

We took advantage of the situation to eat some rice we cooked the night before we left the camp. Since we couldn’t leave our respective battle positions, the Tail Scout, responsible for keeping our cooked rice, divided the hardened rice, and passed it around by “throwing” fist-sized cold-rice to every Ranger. Each of us tried “catching” small portions of it. It was the best tasting rice I’ve ever eaten in my jungle days! We had not eaten since the night we left our camp, so it was a very satisfying moment for us. Precious food indeed. 

War Budies

Rambo 6 had once again lived up to his reputation. I recalled his combat exploits when we were together way back in 1997 to 1999, as we fought together against local communist fighters in the mountains of the Southern Tagalog area and in Mindoro Island. During the All-Out War in Maguindanao in 2000, he was also the commander of 17SRC that finished off the firefight after I had been wounded in that encounter.

For his part, Cpt Cabunoc did not seem to run out of fierceness in the thick of the battle. He audaciously led his men in clearing one house after the other. It was amazing to see him and his troops systematically clearing every nook and cranny of every house along our line of attack while we supported them. I said to myself, “Lord, thank you for surrounding me with these men of valor. I couldn’t ask for better war buddies than them.”

The leading troops steadily gained ground as the enemy-fighters started to withdraw. My troops moved forward alongside Cpt Cabunoc’s. When we reached the suspected main battle position of the enemy, we hastily assaulted it with our guns blazing and us shouting at the top of our lungs with the intent of confusing the enemy, or making them think that we had gone suicidal and that there was no stopping a bunch of crazy-gung-ho soldiers like us.

It was a bloody mess as our troops and the enemy outgunned each other. Each wanted to beat the other to the draw, sending them to kingdom come the fastest.

After more than 6 hours of heavy fighting with more or less 100 enemy-fighters, everyone was accounted for. There were 17 Scout Rangers wounded in action, but no one was in a serious condition. We learned later from intelligence sources that 15 enemy-fighters were killed and 21 others were wounded. We recovered an M60E3 light machine gun (LMG) that the enemy hurriedly left in the bullet-riddled mosque. Evidently, they had tried to make the mosque their defensive position because it was made of concrete. From the mosque, we also recovered assorted types of ammunition and numerous items with high military intelligence value.

Before dusk, and through effective radio communication and coordination, we declared the immediate vicinity of the encounter site secured after a thorough and synchronized clearing operation. Now we could rest, and possibly get back to camp for a refreshing shower, hot meals, and even ice-cold beers – a luxury and a dream for every soldier after every bloody battle.

Merciful God

In the aftermath of the battle, fatigue and hunger were all over our faces. I had a throbbing headache. The long exposure to the elements, the on-edge emotions and most of all, the brutality of the whole thing had taken their toll on me.

We tried to eat some rice and canned sardines we had packed the night before. This time, without hiding from the bullets of the enemy, unlike what we did during the firefight. “Food never tasted this good,” I imagined. Gratitude filled my heart. I thought: “We are alive...and eating the best locally-manufactured canned-sardines we could afford!” 

That was one of the bloodiest encounters that I experienced – next to what I went through the year before in Matanog, Maguindanao where I was seriously wounded and almost died. Both encounters were close calls. I did not have any inkling of what God had in store for me in the days and years to come.

“Because he loves me, says the Lord, I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.” Psalms 91:14 (NIV)

I thought, “I don’t even love Him as I should. I also didn’t acknowledge Him as I ought to.” He is just plainly gracious, merciful, forgiving, and faithful. He continued to try to get my attention, and was overwhelmingly forbearing with me.

“If we are faithless, He will remain faithful, for He cannot disown himself.” 2 Timothy 2:13 (NIV)

I was in awe of God’s greatness and his amazing grace. 

--THE RESCUE (2019)