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)
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