GABI SA BASILAN
By Relly Carpio
"Isa na namang magandang gabi sa gitna nang gubat para sa inang bayan" mused Corporal Alejandro. "Ang mamatay nang may putik sa ilong." Chorused the rest of the fire team. My fire team.
Lieutenant First Class Tiberius Jose Perez, Philippine Army, 91st Infantry Battalion, Musang Company. Another wet night in the jungles of Basilan. I went through four years of college for this?
"Hoy, tumahimik nga kayo! Ano ba naman kayo? Kita nyo nang may nakasagupa na tayo kanina eh ang ingay nyo pa." That was my sergeant, Amado Fabian, been in these jungles since the time of Marcos, he's the only one who likes it here. Everybody respects him, more than they respect me. But I need their obedience, not their respect. That will come soon enough. Who knows? Maybe it'll be today.
After all, why should they respect a coño like me. If we weren't in the same jungle I'd probably be enjoying a vacation in Guam or even Maui right now, boffing some blonde chick; while they would be toiling at some dead end job just to feed their families galunggong at the end of the day. The jungle equalizes everybody faster than any situation. But respect? It still comes from proving yourself. Its not easy with trained operators like my team.
I've been in Basilan what, eighteen? Twenty weeks? I just don't know anymore. The humid days and the infested nights make one wonder if time actually moves. Only the presence of canned sardines, high powered rifles and the erstwhile crackle of the radio remind you that you're still alive. Radio…that reminds me.
"Caparas…radyo."
"Eto ser." Technical Sergeant Caparas, my friendly resource of communication. Yes, we all have cellphones, its damned cheap in the black markets of Mindanao, but this mission demanded quiet. Besides, we have to conserve battery time.
"Sarge Fabian, bahala ka na. Radyo muna ako sa kampo."
"Yes sir. Alejandro unang bantay ka; Gomez, Poblete, luto na kayo. Murangi sama mo si dok, kuha kayo nang tubig."
"Zzzzt…Bravo six actual to Juliet six-five over…Zzzzt"
"Zzzzt…Juliet six five, come in, how copy? Copy you four by five over…Zzzzt"
"Roger, copy you three by five over. Juliet six five bivouac muna kami; coordinates…"
I gave our position for the night. Its roughly six kilometers from the nearest road, twenty from the nearest base, and seven thousand islands from my mother's home near Marikina City. I wonder what she's doing now? Maybe watching a sitcom or some such on cable, sitting inside her air conditioned room, sipping Sandoman port, smoking a Capri.
I could be in Makati, some corporate managerial position, in a monkey suit, headed for an expensive bar in my Porsche. But instead I'm in the jungles of Basilan, two days' march away from the nearest semblance of civilization, dressed in muddy camouflage, sweaty and smelly, eating out of a can, and eventually sleep on a plastic sheet over mud. Hah! That's okay. There's something in the way the words "assault rifle" just roll off your lips. It just so much cooler than "financial report."
I must be crazy. Four years of PMA instead of MBA. Just because I love my lolo enough to let him have his wish. I remember his words like he just told them to me two days ago before we left the firebase. "Wala nang sundalo sa pamilya, TJ. Mamatay ako na wala man lang pumalit sa akin sa ating hukbong sandatahan, nakakahiya, lahat ng anak ko kung hindi babae, duwag." I liked it when he called my father a coward, I still hate that drunken womanizer. So I enlisted right after college, left all that for this.
My fire team consisted of Sarge Fabian, Radioman Caparas, and Alejandro my machine gunner; Gomez, Poblete, Buscano, and Murangi my riflemen; Libay the medic and our latest addition for the Balikatan 2002 – 04: Mendoza, intel. Yep, another one of those intel folks. They scare me you know, they look like they could eat human livers for breakfast, lunch and dinner — then ask for seconds around midnight.
The mission is simple, a major explosion in the middle of the jungle was the last evidence of the existence of a certain Colonel Corgan, two pilots and an entourage of six. An American entourage of the Balikatan 2002 – 04 Military Assistance Command, our commanding officer Colonel Nazareno wants to me to get at least their tags, or teeth, whatever can be used for identification. Would've been easy if the chopper hadn't blown up en route to Gensan, over the thicker jungle canopy of the Basilan wilds.
Air Force has confirmed the crash site, but needs us to walk there. The trees in the area are too high to allow a rappel. Problem is, the nearest clear Landing Zone is three days away from the crash site. If there was no jungle to hack through, I could jog it in a day. Local forces were ordered to gather any human remains and crash site evidence, since there was recent rebel activity in the area. We can't have any more American soldiers dying in our jungles, and certainly not in combat.
"Ser? Okey lang kayo?" It was Fabian bringing me out of my reverie.
"Oo sarge, pagod lang. Sino kaya iyung naka-engkwentro natin? Nakita mo ba?"
"Wala akong nakita ser, puro ilaw nang putok lang, tsaka umiwas naman sila agad eh. Parang ayaw din nilang makipagpatayan, ba."
"Iyun nga di ko maintindihan eh, imbis na umatras sila, eh, nagpumilit na lampasan tayo." Pretty weird indeed, usually these rebels fire on you, hope they kill someone, then move away to set up another ambush up ahead, or disappear totally. These guys we encountered actually charged toward our right flank and ran past our position.
"Baka papuntang bayan iyung mga iyon, nagmamadaling makapagbeerhaus. Hehehe."
"May kumakausap ba sa iyo Alejandro? Diba sinabi kong maghanap ka na nang posisyon mo?"
"Tong si sarge di na mabiro. Eto na nga pupunta na eh."
There goes Alejandro with another of his coarse jokes. I wonder where these people find the strength to crack jokes in the face of this kind of adversity. Most of my college classmates would be crying for their mommies, or daddies, if they had to go through this crap. I guess growing up poor has its privileges too.
"Saan ako ser?" It was Mendoza. The slayer.
I look at the intel guy and wonder how many people he's killed. You don't get that look in your eyes by pencil-pushing. He looks about as old as sarge is, but isn't as fatherly-looking. He walks so silently through the jungle that I wonder if he's a ghost. Maybe all the ghosts of the men he's killed muffle his footsteps as they walk around him wherever he goes.
"Ikaw, Mendoza, ano ba gusto mo? Bantay muna o matulog?." Last night Mendoza took first watch with me and we talked shop. His answers to most of my questions were: "Sorry ser, classified 'yon."
"Last watch na lang ako ser, gusto kong nakikita ang pagsikat nang araw e."
He flashes a smirk which turns my blood cold and turns to walk away to his pack. Excuse me, Mr. Slayer, would you like to eat my liver? I wonder if Mendoza drinks his Mochachino latte out of a human skull.
My team is composed of the following characters. Alejandro is our local comedian, his aim with the heavy machine gun isn't as corny as his constant jokes. Buscano and Poblete are the younger members of the group, both still considerably fresh after only two years in Basilan. They've both had their share of firefights, but have to yet score a face-to-face kill. They find solace in each other's incompetence.
Murangi is a local, a rebel integree, and knows the home terrain very well. His knowledge of enemy tactics is pretty useful. Gomez is a college drop-out who decided to join the army after a heart-wrenching argument with a girl. Usually quiet and keeps to himself, I've caught him crying with guilt a few times after romping with a whore. Libay was an intern who got excited about all the war stories he heard at V. Luna and decided to sign up. He likes cracking jokes about injuries while he's fixing them.
Caparas is the exception to the rule. He's a family man with kids and, unlike most soldiers I know, is actually loyal to his better half. He used to be a junior technician with a phone company before he got disgruntled and left. Command offered him a job as a radio tech and got assigned to me four years ago. We spent those years in Luzon doing communication repairs in Quezon. When the escalation in Basilan occurred, we got assigned to this team.
I was wet-dreaming about my ex-girlfriend Mina when I felt a hand shake my shoulder. I reluctantly woke up to replace the visage of Mina mouthing a suppressed "oh" to see Sergeant Fabian crouched above me, his lips mouthing "ser" repeatedly. This better be good.
Mendoza was behind him, bent, with his rifle pointing out. Buscano was to my left kicking Gomez awake, Alejandro was already up with the M-60 machine gun defending our rear.
"O bakit Sarge?" I whispered, looking at my watch. It was quarter to three a.m. I went for my rifle and helmet. The whole area was still dark even with the small bonfire near the middle of the camp.
"Gising ser, may bisita ata tayo."
"Ano?" Rebels never do night jungle assaults. Its too difficult to see what you're shooting at. But if there's anything I learned in the last few weeks, its that you just never know.
Then I heard it, just as the Buscano was waking up doc Libay and my radioman Caparas.
"SER!!! SER!!! SARGE!!! TULUNGAN NYO KO! DIYOS KO!!! AAAAARRRGGGHHH!!! ANG SAKET!!!"
That got us all bolting to our feet and pointing our rifles in separate directions. It was blood-curdling to hear a big guy like Murangi scream like that. What was going on?
"Sarge, sama mo si Gomez at si Buscano, tingnan niyo si Murangi at si Poblete kung anong nangyari sa kanila!" It was latter pair's time for guard duty, they should be at the listening post thirty feet ahead of our camp.
"AAAAAARRRRGGGHHH!!!! SER! SARGE! GOMEZ! TULUNGAN NYO AKO!!!"
"Ser, hindi si Murangi iyon."
When I looked at Fabian, I saw something I never thought I'd ever see. Fear. Fear, in the eyes of a man who's been in the business of war and killing for more than twenty years.
"Ano? Sarge, kilala ko naman siguro ang boses ni…"
"Ser, hindi si Murangi iyon…" blurted Mendoza
"Bakit ba marunong ka pa sa akin Mendoza…" I was starting to get irritated.
"AAAAARRRGGGHHH!!! SER! SARGE! GOMEZ! MENDOZA! PARA N'YO NANG AWA! ANG SAKIT!!! AAAAHHHHRRRRGGG!!!"
Mendoza was a statue with his rifle pointed solidly outwards of our defensive circle. He slowly let go of his rifle muzzle and pointed to the ground beside him. All the while not looking anywhere else except for his field of fire.
That's when I saw the blood splatch on Mendoza's neck and shoulders. Beside him, on the ground lay the decapitated head of Murangi. The eyes were open as though his head was torn off at the moment of terror. And torn off it was, it wasn't a clean cut or anything like that. Part of the flesh of his shoulders still clung to the base of the neck, his jaw was jammed askew at an impossible angle and there were cuts on his cheek like from knives. I knew I'd never forget that sight for the rest of my life. The flicker of firelight made the sight worse as much of the detail was left to my imagination.
"Anak nang…MENDOZA! Ano ginawa mo kay Murangi hayop ka!" I started to lift my rifle to kill Mendoza.
"SER! HUWAG! Hindi si Mendoza may gawa niyan." Sarge quickly stopped my movement by body-hugging me, pinning my rifle to my torso and grabbing both my arms. Mendoza gave me a quick glance of reprimand, the kind one gives a child who asks a foolish question. Seeing I would not be able to murder him, Mendoza resumed his watch.
"Ser, easy lang. Nagising ako nang may bumagsak sa dibdib ko na akala ko kung ano. Pagdilat ko ulo ni Murangi. Initsa ko sa pagkabigla, tinamaan si Mendoza sa braso nang madugong parte. Hindi siya ser!"
I looked hard at my sergeant to see if he was lying, he wasn't.
"Nagising siya, at ginising na kita agad. Nang makita niya ang ulo ay madali siyang tumayo at ginising na niya si Alejandro at si Buscano. Ser, pare-pareho nating di alam ano nangyayari. Easy ka lang ser!"
His back turned to me, Mendoza voices a suggestion, "Lieutenant Perez, may sitwasyon tayo na kailangan mong asikasuhin. I suggest you start taking command of it sir. I'm sorry you lost a man, pero kung hindi ka magmamadali baka mawalan ka pa nang isa. Si Poblete nasa damuhan pa."
"Sige, naniniwala ako sa iyo. Sori Mendoza, nabigla lang ako." Mendoza looked back, I gave an apologetic look that also said 'sorry Mr. Slayer, forgive the crazy newbie.' He gave me a nod, and resumed his position.
"Okay that's it! Sarge, lika dito! Everybody else watch your perimeter! Shoot anything that moves…Caparas get on the horn. Kailangang malaman natin ang nangyari kay Poblete."
Hindi maintindihan nang isip ko kung paano nakakasigaw ang isang taong sigurado ko nang patay. Pero hindi ko makakaila na boses ni Murangi ang naririnig ko, pati ang puntong Bisaya niya, kuhang-kuha. Galit na ako. Nagsisimula na akong magbigay nang utos sa Ingles at mag-isip sa Tagalog.
"AAAAARRGGGGHHHH!!! SER!!! SER! SARGE! GOMEZ! BUSCANO! TULUNGAN NYO KO! SINASAKTAN NILA AKO!!! AAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!"
Speaking of the devil. I looked around trying to find the source of the scream. All the jungle gave me was a dark, wordless stare.
"Si Poblete!" Buscano broke rank and started to run toward the jungle. I'm sure he was running in the wrong direction, but with the disorienting darkness I wasn't sure. He was immediately stopped by Gomez.
"Bitawan mo ako Gomez! Kailangan ako ni Aris!"
"SARGE!"
"Sarge…"
My stern order for Sarge Fabian to assist Gomez sounded eerie when mixed with the latter's plea. I immediately took position in the breach that the panicking Buscano left. I pointed my rifle at the foreboding bushes, not knowing what the hell I was even aiming at. Or if I was even going to fire at anything.
"Gaddemit! Maintain discipline mga hinayupak kayo!" Sarge was a disciplinarian, and this insanity was getting on his nerves. The two struggled with the young man until they wrestled him away from the perimeter and unto the ground.
"Pare huwag! Baka ikaw ang sumunod pag humiwalay ka! Hindi natin alam kung ano may gawa niyan!" Gomez pleaded with the young man.
There were no other sounds except that loud screaming voice. The jungle was silent, the scream itself was confusing, like it came from all directions, like I was hearing it from inside my head. There were no cricket sounds, no brushing of leaves against the trees, no frogs croaking, not even the occasional buzzing of mosquitoes. Nothing. It was like… like we were in a graveyard.
AAAARRRRGGGHHH!!! TULUNGAN NYO AKO!
"Si Poblete! Pare ano ba?! Pakawalan niyo ako! Si Poblete!" Buscano was starting to cry.
"Sarge! Patahimikin mo 'yan bago ko mabaril 'yan!" I was beginning to lose it as the whole situation was beginning to sink in.
SLAP!!!
How could I have heard the voice of a dead man screaming for help?
"Ano ba Buscano! Hihinahon ka o patatahimikin kita?!"
Why was I hearing all these screams inside my head, and not with my ears?
"Si Poblete! Tulungan natin si Poblete!"
Was it really possible to tear a human head off like that?
SLAP!!!
What killed my man and is my other man alive?
"Hoy!"
Is this voice from the grave also?
"Si Poblete! Tulungan natin si Poblete!"
BRAKATAKATAKATAKATAKATAKATAKATAKATAW!!!
I fired my rifle into the air. The sudden muzzle flash and noise broke the commotion. Everyone looked towards my direction. There I was, lit only by firelight, holding my assault rifle, its muzzle pointing up, the smell of gunpowder in my nose. Shell casings at my feet. "Shutdafakap!!! Get your ass off the ground! Pick up your rifle! And get back to your position! Or, so help me God, I will bury you right here beside Murangi's head!"
I hate getting mad. I revert to coño language.
"TULUNGAN NYO AKO! PARANG AWA NIYO NA! TULUNGAN NIYO AKO! MASAKIT! TUTULUNGAN NIYO AKO O PAPATAYIN KO KAYONG LAHAT!"
That brought Buscano back to his senses. "Ye…yessir…sori ser… sarge, Gomez. Okey na ko. Sori ser." They let Buscano go and they all got up to reinforce the perimeter. I got back the middle of the circle. Caparas was desperately trying to reach base on the radio, but I could only hear static in reply to his every call. Its either the base was asleep or we didn't have a signal.
"Ser. No reply ang base."
"Keep trying Caparas."
My men were semi-crouched, surrounding our equipment at six points along the perimeter. Our camp was roughly twenty-five feet in diameter. We were all tense from waiting for whatever it was that was wrecking our sanity. I was beginning to wonder if this was a bad continuation of the wet dream I was having earlier.
"AAAAARRGGGGHHHH!!! SER!!! SER! SARGE! GOMEZ! BUSCANO! TULUNGAN NYO KO! AAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!"
I willed myself to wake up. No good. I don't think it's a dream.
"Caparas pag nakontak mo base sabihin mo may kaengkwentro tayo dito sa bivouac. Bigay mo uli posisyon natin. Sarge Fabian, Mendoza, halikayo dito. Men, guard your perimeters."
Sarge Fabian and Mendoza came up to me. Leaving only one man facing each compass point. We crouched into a huddle beside Caparas.
"Ano Sarge? Puntahan natin si Poblete?"
"Ewan ko lang ser. Duda na ako eh, makatapos ang nangyari kay Murangi, hindi ko na alam. Masama talagang kutob ko, eh."
"Ikaw Mendoza? Ano masasabi mo? May alam ka ba sa mga nangyayari?"
"Nakarinig na ako nang mga istorya nang mga biglang nawawalang sundalo sa gitna nang bivouac, pero nililista lang na AWOL ang mga iyon; mga deserters, minsan, pero hindi mga patay na nagsasalita."
I was torn whether to leave the safety of the circle of rifles for the bush. I couldn't hide the fact that I heard the voice of a dead man scream for help. But I had to try and save this man, he was one of mine. I turned to Mendoza with a nod of invite to join me. He approved and led the way.
"Sarge, ikaw na muna bahala. Pag hindi kami bumalik, ano man ang mangyari, huwag na kayong susunod. Paumaga kayo tapos bumalik na kayo sa LZ, pa-extract kayo. Abort ang mission. Huwag na kayong pakabayani."
"Yes sir, ingat kayo."
I turned away with a nod, "POBLETE?! STEADY KA LANG PAPUNTA NA KAMI DIYAN!"
Mendoza and I took a few steps into the bush, our rifles pointing forward. I led the way, stepping over the ground vine and low bushes. I felt the jungle embrace my presence as I moved into her.
"HUWAG NA, SER!" It was Poblete's voice. "HUWAG NA KAYONG PUMUNTA DITO SA LISTENING POST!"
"HA? BAKIT?!"
"Kasi andito na ako sa likod nyo."
The hair on the back of my neck crawled. My stomach knotted with fear. I turned around to see Mendoza, Sarge and Libay also turn towards the center of the camp. Everybody turned around at that voice that definitely came from behind all of us. Even Caparas stopped calling on the radio and turned to look at his back.
Time seemed to slow down as I turned. My doubt and fear gave way to horror as I saw standing in the middle of the camp what was left of Poblete. His eyes were rolled up in their sockets his hair matted and tousled with a liquid sheen that could only be blood. His mouth was agape and had blood and spittle drooling out of it. The center of his torso was caved in and his shirt was torn in various places. He was covered with so many gashes that blood soaked his camouflage uniform black.
I don't know who screamed first, me or Caparas who upon seeing the corpse standing right behind him screamed and scrambled backwards from it.
"WALANG BABAREL! MAGKAKATAMAAN TAYO!" It was Mendoza. He was right, my bullets would have torn through Poblete's corpse and hit Gomez or Buscano.
"Hold your fire…" My words came out as a hoarse whisper more than an order.
KLATSAK!
Someone was cocking his rifle. "I SAID HOLD YOUR FIRE!"
I heard a whipping sound, like someone pulling bootlaces out of a shoe. In the flickering light, I saw a thin ropelike tendril release Poblete's neck and quickly move up, beyond the light, into the dark treetops. A leafy branch silhouetted against the blue-gray sky moved, as if something that was weighing it down had left it. I looked back down to see Poblete's body lurch forward and thud to the ground. No movement.
"Check your perimeter. NOW! Libay, tingnan mo si Poblete. LIBAY!" I looked at our doctor and saw him slowly come back to his senses with a few blinks. He immediately rushed to the body, but as he grabbed Poblete's shoulders to turn him over, his head rolled away from his shoulders and whatever blood was left in the body began to ooze out. Libay gave a shriek and jumped back.
I peeled my eyes away to see my men still staring at the corpse. "GOMEZ! BUSCANO! ALEJANDRO! SARGE! ANO BA?! CHECK YOUR PERIMETER. ANO MAN ANG MAY GAWA NIYAN BAKA ISUNOD TAYO! LIBAY GET BACK IN POSITION!" That got them jumping. They turned and formed a tighter circle, moving closer to the fire, as if that would help protect them from the menacing jungle dark. Mendoza and I returned to the center to reinforce any side that would get attacked.
A breeze passed over the camp and made our firelight flicker. The sound of a single cricket began the jungle's symphony of noise again, followed by his brethren and the frog-song and a night bird joined in the trilling.
TU-KO!
Even the mosquitoes seemed to realize it was again safe to buzz at our ears.
Dawn brought no comfort. We found Murangi's body mutilated, his torso was torn apart as if by some wild animal. Mendoza and Sarge Fabian searched our teammates' bodies but found no bullet or knife wound on them. They were the only ones who had the guts to look at the bodies in the glaring daylight without throwing up.
I've seen death, but not like this. We set out to bury them and continue on our way. We finally contacted the base and informed them of the attack and the deaths. They issued the order for us to push on to the crash site and complete our mission.
Day four. We held watch within camp last night. Nothing happened. Whatever killed Murangi and Poblete was not hunting us. I pushed the team out early to get to the chopper before midday. We got to the crash site. There were no bodies. Whole bodies that is. There were burnt human parts everywhere, the bones that lay around were picked clean, some seemed to have been chewed on. I ordered the men to split up into pairs and search the perimeter of the crash site for anything we can use to identify the bodies by.
"Ser dito!" It was Libay.
He found all the American's dogtags neatly hung on a branch, at the bottom of the small tree were nine skulls, clean of all flesh. The tree trunk bore claw marks.
A hoax? A gross joke played on us by the rebels? I don't know anymore. We bagged the skulls and I pocketed the tags. We also got the flight recorder and guidance system of the chopper.
We didn't take the same route going back. There was an alternate LZ for extraction. We took that one and got there in record time. There was a silent consensus that we would only stop when it was too dark to push on. No one complained, even if we walked all day and guarded four at a time all night.
We got to the LZ in three days. The mission was considered a success, Mendoza explained to me that I should change our report into a more believable one, lest we all get discharged for insanity. I explained this to the team and we made a story up on the last day of our march. Mendoza promised to stick to our story.
And what a story it was, more of a lame yarn than anything. Compared to what really happened. My After Action Report read "…was ambushed 024500 hours by unknown assailants on early morning DAY 3 of mission. Short firefight ensued, after which we found the mutilated, decapitated and dismembered bodies of our perimeter guards Pfc. Charles Poblete and Sgt. Ahmed Jamal Murangi. Assailants suspected to be same group earlier encountered 153300 hours afternoon of DAY 2. Mission delayed due to burial duty. No evidence of injury or casualties to opponents…"
Command didn't take it well that we lost two men to such a simple search and recovery mission. But considering it could have been American lives that were lost instead of my men, there was no investigation held. None the less, losing an asset, like Murangi, won't be one of the better parts of my record.
The Americans were grateful and gave medals and commendations, some unfortunately posthumous, to the whole team. They appreciated the fact that they will get to bury skulls and use the tags to appease their bureaucracy. They said they'll come back someday to check out the area themselves; when the rebels are gone.
Hah! Yeah right. The fools, there are worse things than toy soldiers of a cowardly liar in that jungle. Sarge Fabian asked for reassignment after that mission. He said "Ayoko na ser, sa tinagal ko sa gubat ngayon lang ako nakaranas nang ganoon. Iyon na ata ang hudyat sa akin nang Diyos na 'umuwi ka na bago ikaw ang sumunod." He's now a drill sergeant in Camp Karingal training the next Mendoza, or the next Poblete.
I am still here in the jungles of Basilan, Caparas still by my side. So is Alejandro, Libay, Gomez and Buscano. Three new boys are on the way to join our ranks. Mendoza's back with his intel group, no longer a stranger, we trade favors every now and then. It was difficult going back into the jungle, worse trying to get some shut eye when on a night bivouac. But as long as I have my assault rifle beside me, and my fire team around me; I'm cool.
-30-
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