Chapter 20
Homecoming
An abundance of spiritual bouquets, wreaths with sympathy cards lining up from their sala to receiving room where his father's casket was laid were pronounced when Lt. Taklin de la Rosa regal in his military uniform dropped from the military jeep. Huddle was momentarily stopped by supporters giving time for Taklin to meet his father now inside the wooden casket. For the first time after many years, silvery tears flowed down from his sunken socket gazing at the disfigured face of his tatay. Uttering thrice 'Into your hands Oh Lord we commend his spirit making his soul whiter than snow' was all he mustered from his troubled heart. Sitting nearer his mother, he wondered if the rest of the family knew the real incident confided to him earlier by Rico. Probably not.
"This is the time for mourning, not inquiry," he reminded again himself to stay on focus.
Perhaps some other time after the dead body is finally laid to rest. He also thought he was the last person left uninformed his mother and the rest of the family were adamant about divulging the news thinking aloud such an uncalled move might create chaos during the wake.
"That would not do any good," he thought. In reality, though, it was the other way around. Neither his mother nor all other members of the family have any inkling of the real incident. Except for Danny.
"I'm sorry son your Tatay left without leaving us a word," Nanay Elsa broke the news to Taklin.
"No need to have that I supposed. How he lived his life was already a testimony of who he was. He was, in the gospel sense, a living word, a living witness to the world."
Calm registered on the face of Nanay Elsa hearing his good son speak.
"Mang Tonio up there would be happy for the praises given by his son," she thought. It's for the moment she managed. She is not disposed of speaking more beyond what she perceived as foul play done to her beloved husband.
"Not yet, not yet until the right time comes along," she told.
"I think Nanay what you need is enough rest to recover extra adrenalin lost these past few days. I just want to be sure you would not be physically and emotionally drained comes the burial of Tatay on Friday. Okay?"
Nay Elsa just nodded.
"I'd like to speak to Bernabe please," said Lt. de la Rosa leaving after kissing her forehead. Fidgeting Bernabe sitting nearby, they went inside the room. Door closed.
"What's up," Taklin ventured.
"I counted the alcohol reading of Tatay's blood taken by Dr. Carlos Gerave, newly assigned medico-legal in this municipality who conducted the autopsy. It's only 5-8% alcohol count bro."
"That means he was in complete control of himself that evening and there's just no statistical probability of losing his way slipping away losing his balance from the edges of ridge dropping to rocks several meters under dead as alleged," Taklin was fast calculating the implication.
"Or translated in layman's street parlance, that measly 5-8% alcohol reading for a driver would not in a way blur his vision or slow down his nerve and reflexes to commit the slightest mistake like bumping or hitting another vehicle let alone running over a pedestrian crossing the lane dead," Bernabe qualified.
"Did you kiss him… I mean checking his mustache to find out if there were some foreign residues left indicating miracle forcibly administered to him ...."
"No need I suppose for I took a sampling of Dad's oxygen...."
"You forced Dad's inducing his stomach to vomit ...!"
"Yap by pressing his belly with my two hands and getting salty water mixed with Marca demoño and some foodstuff he took that evening. However, the findings of Dr. Gerave who conducted the autopsy were irreversibly still negative."
"How was it done?"
"Not sure if you heard a certain gadget used in identifying the origin or a tag or label – if you wish – of certain item like a cigarette. By subjecting the smoke alone, the brand of cigarette used is identified one hundred percent."
"Quite sophisticated."
"In our country, right. But not in the United States. This gadget is a common item there especially among physicians working sensitive and confidential work administered by a medical doctor in FBI."
"How about the body from his vital and tender flesh toenails to the head."
"As already said, the Medico-Legal's findings were negative. That's official. Dislocation of three ribs from the torso, legs were broken, abrasion, contusion, concussion of the upper breadbasket, the head included."
The description confirmed Rico's earlier news to him. "Dad was such a bloody mess then," Taklin sulked.
Bernabe nodded.
"Was there any other indication showing any foul play before he fell to his death from that ravine-like neck broken before he was thrown him away to the sea? Anything of that sort?"
"Well Dad's body served as physical evidence and so far from the investigation, medico-legal's findings do not prove otherwise."
Taklin fixed his gaze on the floor, transferring his weight from the left to the right foot his index finger playing on his lap. "Fine. Just fine. I just want to be sure what their official results were. "
Now for the final question. Having been briefed by Rico of the incident, "do you believe what so far their findings have been?"
Bernabe was stunned. Blood came rushing on his cheek nodding.
"Great. It's time we should also make our post-mortem bro. Rico's recount was an excellent lead. Do you think so?"
Bernabe beamed. "What do you mean? Another inquest."
"Yes, minus the opposing party. If need be, we should conduct the autopsy ourselves. That would be a good parting gesture of love to Tatay. Isn't it?"
"Again!" Bernabe whined.
"Yes. Why not. But not now but on the 46th. Don't tell me you are retracting your alcohol reading and your findings on what was inside Tatay's belly. That does not seem weird to you?"
"I supposed so. And what's next?"
Lifting his forefinger upward, Taklin enthused. "Just like these. First, be sure to add more formalin to Tatay's body. Normally a Gallon of formalin is only good for three days. That means we need twelve or thirteen gallons for six weeks. Just be sure that we don't run out of supply."
"Then what's next?"
"I already negotiated with Dr. Flores, NBI's Head, for possible burial outside the cemetery may be on the farm or behind our house. If South Koreans and Chinese respect that practice why could not, we when our farms are so vast after all. This could be possible if there would be no hitch from Mr. Flores who might be tipped by the Mayor not to accede to our request."
"Department of Health officer of the province might not give clearance for health reasons."
"But Tatay remember Bernabe did not die of serious illness. We should exert effort to get the desired result. You see I don't think we could afford to spoil our inquest this early. Get what I mean?"
"Ergo, number three is how!"
Without waiting for a response, he continued.
"Any normal burial at the municipal cemetery but be sure to supervise the construction of a Mausoleum. Don't forget too that cement mixing at the rear should be such that it is easy to break for retrieval of Tatay's body later."
Bernabe practiced recalling the first two items and just said listening to Taklin. "Thirteen gallons of formalin for six weeks and possible burial in the farm. Number three, any ordinary burial in municipal cemetery…."
"Remember. Let us not commit any slightest mistake provoking suspicion from dirty pigs. Having done that, all the rest would follow suit. Did you get that?"
Observing Bernabe carried away and not responding, Taklin was disturbed.
"Excuse me. Are you still there?"
"Yes, I got them."
"But that only plan A, a conservative one," Taklin continued after a brief pause.
Bernabe was startled blood flushing into his face.
"What you've got for your plan B?"
"Plan B is just execution of Plan A right after the burial of Tatay. And the best time to do that is dawn when the angels are still asleep. Men are not only sleeping by then but also their spirits inebriated from the power of Marca Demoño."
"Good – but I'm not sure if we could execute that to the letter," Bernabe queried.
"Why not. Precisely we have to invest so much quality time and maybe enough "How about resources?" If we would pursue such a plan, take charge of the preparation - area for our post-mortem. The cemetery guard should be out at least during that night only. Same with the rest of the men. Now tell me do you think you could handle this?"
"Sure," Bernabe thought after all even God needs rest.
"But how?" Bernabe grappled with the problem.
"There's only one way – offering a heavy drink to Colas, the Undertaker, and surreptitiously mixed with three or four valiums. He could take the risks, why not."
"I would take charge of the physical cover."
Finally, it was tacitly agreed that plan B was the priority. Three days left to execute the plan, and the two thought it could be manageable. Hugging each other, they finally called it a night.
"Mind you, Bernabe, we would not fail. God is with us. He never allows you to know the Devil imposing his influence on the God-fearing people of Sta. Rita."
"So be it," Bernabe hushed.
Digressing on the issue, Bernabe asked: "How about Rico?"
"No need to worry. He's safe and fine at St. John the Baptist Monastery. Got some friends there. It's the safest place one could find in town. Don't divulge this to his mother. Withhold revealing this until the crazy war against the Powers-that-be is over."
"Deal again."
"Okey, a deal. Tatay is also making his deal to us. Remember his oft-repeated words – the golden rule. Don't do unto others what others would like to do unto you. This is the time to confuse the devil if not wipe him out from the face of this municipality."
"If they have done this to an innocent man, then there's no guarantee they would not be doing the same to all good men in this community giving indescribable suffering to the family left," Taklin emphasized.
Coming out of the room with Bernabe, he was met by Col. Joselito Ludemir and some friends. "Our condolence to you Taklin. It's God's way that we have to pass this way. It's a rare opportunity in fact to die where we have to go back to mother earth and our soul back to God who created us."
Taklin executed the required snappy hand salute before acknowledging the sympathy given by the prince of peace and order of the province. "Many thanks, Sir. I hope that he is now resting beside God in peace."
"A man of peace like him, he does."
Taklin also acknowledged the presence of other sympathizers that night and that includes some of Mayor Torres' men who posted like deep penetration agents throughout the vigil. Bernabe learned that they have been attending the vigil since day one of Tatay's death a few days ago. Bernabe just kept his cool not bothering some suspicion heard surrounding Mang Tonio's death. Bishop Valdez was also there.
The vigil fellowship started. An elderly woman led the evening prayer calling the gathering the celebration of life. "For it's through death that we see life," Taklin remembered the leader saying; the rest of the message blurred by the savage destruction and mangling of his father whoever might have done it.
"Even if Tatay survived the ordeal, he would still be consigned to a wheelchair forever given the injuries he had," Taklin believed.
"It's a clear conspiracy with the killing done in cold blood in the guise of a drinking spree yet." This time he thought of the possibility of Tatay folding like a marshmallow from the impact of the fall after his neck was squeezed and broken by the perpetrators of the crime was playing in his mind. A very big possibility seeing the bulk of men right before him attending the vigil. This nagging issue would be answered a few days from now. With Friday coming, two days more left, he was impatient for the first time and night appeared the longest.
Meanwhile, the evening prayer just ended with a soulful rendition of "I Will Never Forget You My People" from the book of Isaiah by the parish choir.
"I'll go ahead, I have other urgent things to do Taklin. There will be an Executive Officer's meeting next week in Manila so I want to be sure I have something to ask. If you have any urgent matters for me, see me before Monday next week. I'll be leaving then for Manila to attend the scheduled conference," Bishop Valdez said bidding goodbye.
There was an impulse on Lt. Taklin to talk with the high-ranking officer present being the highest authority representing the military in the province but the thought of spoiling his tatay's
rest and the impact it would create dampened his enthusiasm.
"I haven't even settled the fundamental issue of how the killing was done. Some other time maybe. Part also of his reservation is the unpredictability of some military officers playing sometimes politics at the government expense."
"How would you account for military hardware from bullets to high-power firearms ending into the hands of the rebels for instance? "he asked.
"In case you've found men in uniform committing an error, don't tell that directly to them. They are only humans and they too err. Please tell that problems directly to me before the media would blow the issue out of proportion," he remembered on instruction by higher officials many years back. In the same way, learning how as the sacristan instructed not to rock the church and its priests, they too mere humans who erred.
"Tell his sins directly to God," the thought played in his mind.
"No wonder that theology of liberation unlike in Latin America where the progressive doctrine conceptualized and practiced was concocted in papers only in the Philippines. It did not thrive nor translated into praxis in the field. Cardinal Sin himself said the Church can't legislate laws and Civil War is the worst punishment from God," he learned.
"But is he not aware that the country is on fire, that hostility has been raging like a fireball everywhere," he rationalized recalling the mind of a writer addressing the issue in one National Daily.
"We can't just philosophize it. The fact is, the country is bleeding from a war between Filipinos – men of the same race, color, nation, and what have you," he recalled what the paper further said.
. . . . . . . . .
"What shall we do on Friday son?" his mother asked restoring his sanity from meditation.
"As planned, we'll follow what has been programmed until Tatay is laid to rest. Other things would be treated one at a time when they come, that would be after the 46th."
"Excuse me. I mean let's observe the day of mourning until he is laid to his final resting place," he snapped back gaining back the confidence of his mother.
It was getting late. The people as usual were busy in their huddle. On the right side, people were playing cards. As he walks in, they were a bit ashamed to see Lieutenant Taklin de la Rosa construing his religious background in the Seminary.
"Good evening Lt.," one player uttered.
"No problem folks. You may play cards 'till daybreaks. No problem," Taklin responded.
Gambling during wake has been part of the culture among people in the country. The professional ones in Manila would even hire a cadaver from Funeral Parlor just to entice people gambling and they reaped handsome dividends. Thus, even though he abhors the practice, he can't stop them instead just remain lenient as he could not legislate a 'no gambling' night to the visitors many of whom came purposely to play. And that's what the perceived enemies whoever they were did since day one of the wakes. Unknown to these people, Taklin have them caught in a CCTV secured for the occasion.
Reading various sympathy cards "Our deepest sympathy!" all over relieved him of the heavy load and burden somehow. And as usual, the size of the wreath personified the identity of the sender. And nothing beats among those sent by the Mayor and other politicians.
Deep inside, he was elated that flowers were offered by friends around. They come by bunch replacing those that already get thawed. To his amazement, he learned that it was the Mayor's men who facilitated the arrangement of the wreaths and spiritual bouquet with many coming in.
Among the best, however, one spiritual bouquet with a short poem stands out taking his interest. It's from his bosom friend Driarco, his batch mate in high school at Sta. Rita and classmate in the Seminary. But unlike him who left the seminary to become a military officer, Driarco pursued his vocation and became an ordained Catholic priest.
"The heavier the cross, the more the Christ-like the journey," he recalled remembering the maxim sent to him.
It's been a long absence since not meeting him personally especially after Fr. Driaco volunteered to do missionary work in Taiwan. Reading and picking up therefore his wisdom for the occasion is another visit to the window of his soul:
To A Friend
"Why grieve over the loss of a dear one.
Be brave, he just went ahead
to a place we will all tread
Life is not ours to spend nor cherish.
It's God's
We're here living to share His love
with each one.
My deepest condolence!"
"Great slice of creativity indeed though couched in very simple language," he said appreciating his friend's mind pregnant with meaning folding the sympathy card back into his portfolio.
Taking it back, surely the signature was familiar to Taklin. How in the world however the icon of a needle was used underlining his signature was weird to him?
"Hmm, see how an artist creates some stuff out of nothing," he said leaving to his creativity deciphering the implication of that baffling graphics.
"I don't grieve over his death but on how he was mangled by those who inflicted the damage," the Lt. said in silence, a fact his dear friend not privy about.
"Not at all; we're all passing mortals anyway," he justified.
Realizing the many wreaths lining and Mass cards on top of coffin somehow awakened him how people from different persuasions and walks of life loved his father.
"So, this is how it looks like when you become now a military officer especially coming froma prestigious institution like PMA," he thought elated how people extended their heartfelt condolences.
"Thanks but no way digressing from my focus – that is looking into the bottom of his death," Taklin thought physically drained having three hours of sleep only the other night.
He was elated that implementation worked as planned his men in full throttle working the completion of chapel for his father's mausoleum.
"Why not? To remind people to search for honorable, just, lasting and ideal his father represents."
A chapel and a room behind would be fine. That would facilitate his own post mortem inquest. It's crazy thinking of an impulsive plan but there's no other way out but to do it if only to give justice to his father.
What a pattern how the killing was delivered clean in conspiracy. His father unfortunately followed the path Mang Clineo tread. Not only that the pattern of killing with the rest were identical – shot in the head and or killed sweetly with pointed object planted in the cranium – brutal but done in a subtle way as if perpetrated by professionals.
The disturbing idea engulfed Taklin. Meanwhile, the line was long from the sympathizers who pay their last tribute to the man who created the municipality. The church bell pealed lazily as the casket was drawn atop a bier carried by two big horses towards the cemetery.
"For whom the bells toll if not unto the people," Taklin thought remembering Ernest Hemingway's classic.
. . . . . . . . . .
"Are you sure no hitch here," the Mayor said to Bobo who took the telescope extended by the Mayor at the terrace.
"What do you think? So far there is no indication of foul play getting messy around. That's what Baldo et al tipped us during Necrological service just concluded in the Church."
"Then be sure that everything is ironed out smoothly till that poor fellow is buried. By then we could celebrate this early possible landslide victory comes election day few months from now."
"And the rest would follow suit," the Mayor added.
"You mean Ramon, promising pretender to the throne. Never. Only over my dead body. As long as we're breathing, take it from me gentlemen, only death could take away from, us reign of power we are enjoying. What are we in power for if we could not make impossible things happen? Cheer for Mayor Torres' victory anew," the Mayor said consuming the glass half-filled with Russian vodka.
"And condolence to the poor politician whose comeback to the political arena was finally aborted."
"Not all bad though partner. His political savvy and experience could be very excellent fertilizer to this barren municipality."
"Yes Sta. Rita as your name implies there is still hope for you mercilessly exploited by us to the tilt," the Mayor said sending his captured audience laughing echo reverberating in the four walls closed office.
Outside the great throng of multitude thinning out umbrellas covering them seen from the second floor of the Municipal Hall remained visible to the naked eyes like bunch of mushrooms popping out.
. . . . . . . . . .
An alarm clock rang wildly sending Bernabe standing on his feet. Outside, a cock crow breaking the new dawn of the day. It's exactly two o'clock in the morning leaving him thirty minutes to be in the mausoleum in the cemetery just constructed. Donning his jogging shoes and putting a black jacket on, he hurriedly went downstairs. Nay Elsa surprisingly wide-awake holding family portrait was sitting alone in the Sala.
"Too early to jog around."
"Yes, but not really. Just want to savor fresh air outside," he said after kissing her mother's forehead. He then bolted out from the door. The sharp sound of bats feasting on ripe mangoes along the road is all what he heard some dropping to the ground their sweet juicy smell wafting in the air. The municipality was completely at peace like Colas, the cemetery's undertaker, sprawled at the gate of the cemetery snoring on the bench.
Dimly lit, the mausoleum constructed give the impression of being an economy chapel in many gardens in the city save that an inquest would be conducted that day.
"Just in time I supposed bro," break Bernabe upon his entry by the door.
"You're right," responded Taklin his hands wearing plastic gloves.
"Where's Dr. Gerave, the medico-legal you promised to bring along earlier to help us do this job?"
"Not sure. Must be joining us here later. No need as he might also be still sleeping from too much intake of hard liquor," he said while fixing his gaze on the luminescent crucifix hanging by the wall. Soon they pulled the coffin out and after brief prayer administered their customized post mortem. The stiff and cold body was all there for their inquest.
"Now we're on," Taklin said taking out the linen covering his father's dead body.
Reviewing the body looking for possible damage of any vital organ. None leaving him to validate if at all the trend of killing sweetly a person is in order. This to check if indeed the systematic but ruthless murdering a person using that customized needle he learned could be discovered and retrieved.
"Why not," he thought giving him goose bump.
"Now do keep this business strictly between us and God. I should have proceeded with the inquest earlier. But I took patience waiting for you to have you act as witness how cruel the Mayor has been towards innocent people he perceived as enemies."
Bernabe spell bounded just waited for the next move. Caught off-guard reading the mind of his brother, he just remained silent and waited in great anticipation what would be the most unlikely discovery of that early dawn intrusion of the cemetery.
The inquest didn't last that long. Taklin just concentrated on two vital part of the head taking the lead from his friend Lito, that hunchback medico-legal assistant he bribed revealing that deadly trend of wanton killings happening in the province.
"We could have tatay's belly opened as our last resort to see if was drowned to death."
"You mean taking his lungs out and have it checked in a basin full of water if it floats or sank . . . ," Bernabe said with reservation his eyes almost popping out from their sockets realizing to witness such scary activity.
"Yes, that until Lito arrives and does that favor to us . . . "
"But maybe not needed as that possibility might be farfetched."
"What do you mean?"
"From the looks of it and as my gut feeling indicates, it is most unlikely."
"That unless, he was deliberately drowned before that so-called tragic leap from the cliff," Taklin added.
Reaching the penlight and he probed into an eardrum. But negative. No trace of blood clot whatsoever leaving him no other alternative than to examine the head. Running his index finger alternately with middle finger on his still thick gray hair, nothing suspicious object felt or protruding in there.
Until Bernabe took his turn suspicious of too much grease applied on his father's hair by the embalmer. Nothing too until he observed a nasty smell of his fingers.
Validating the odd observation, Taklin took his turn running his right index finger this time slowly on their father 's strands of hair. Smelling the same oily black substance, he look into Bernabe's eyes indicating of possible lead holding the key that would unlock mystery of his father's death. Fidgeting Bernabe to provide him a lift, Taklin took a Gillette from his wallet and shaved off the suspected back portion of their tatay's head.
"Touch this," he directed Bernabe taking his middle finger on the surface of the head where heavy concentration of nasty smelling oily substance gushing out from the skull.
Shaving some more the area from some oily sediments, there revealed nasty cut of the cranium.
Scooped by their index finger lo and behold that oily thing mixed with blood stared right before their naked eyes! But no sharp foreign object buried as he suspected all along earlier!
"Eureka," Bernabe caught in disbelief his mouth agape.
"That could be it the major cause of his death," the younger brother cleared giving benefits of doubt Taklin.
"How could a person have survived from a fall given that cerebral damage . . ."
"I agree," Taklin retorted spirit crushed what with his suspicion futile.
"Wow. That's it," Taklin sighed empathizing the agony of his Tatay grimacing in pain in silence as he was put to sleep by the bastards conspired in perpetuating that barbaric ritual.
"It's not what any civilized people could do. It's what the early tribes in history capable of doing and relishing the pain doing this."
"It's what any evil men could do," Bernabe interjected.
Outside the cemetery by the gate, Colas was painting the iron grills when he saw Taklin and Bernabe going out.
"Too early your visit Sirs. . ." the undertaker greeted.
"Not really, just fixing and checking the just constructed Mausoleum if okay 'cause I'll be back on my Tour of Duty...," Taklin said looking the still drunk undertaker smelling alcohol handing few crisps of one hundred pesos money in his pocket.
"That's nice of you guys. I could resume again my celebration later here in the cemetery."
"What do 'ya mean?" quipped Bernabe.
"Not heard my new client coming here . . . dead!"
"Who he would be?" Taklin snapped back.
"Not sure, but he's our municipality's sidekick of Dr. Gerave, our official Medico-Legal."
"Lito you mean?"
"That shit hunchback, our Medico-Legal's double doing dirty job for him operating bellies taking out vital organs for an autopsy – lungs, heart, intestines and all that - ;
Shocking development but they pretended not affected at all.
It was like a bombshell exploding hearing all those unprecedented incidents for Taklin bothering him all the more. Few days more, he would be back for duty to his superior in Camp Aguinaldo. The disorientation was still there but he knew that he would soon outgrow it; let alone, get rid the hang of it what with the prospect his new assignment brings. For now, nothing to worry about having erred his suspicion how death was delivered to his father.
"But it was still death through conspiracy," the crucial question remains to be answered.
"When?" he doesn't have any idea.
The whole afternoon was almost spent resting. As evening approaches, he prepared personal belonging in his rag pack for tomorrow's long trip back to Manila.
"I'll just cross the bridge when I go there," he said with optimism. That as group of people congregated across his residence holding torch up high illuminating a speaker with megaphone blaring. Election fever was on.
. . . . . . . . . .
"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Sorry for disturbing you all, "the voice said.
"But I hope you could spare with us few minutes. We are here to request you help Bernabe de la Rosa win this coming local election as Mayor of our municipality."
"Down with Mayor Torres," people shouted in unison repeatedly in between catcalls.
"We have more than enough from him - graft and corruption, nepotism, environmental destruction, mining and all that," the speaker said in singsong manner ending with 'Mabuhay ang Osigan" collectively raised by people joining the crowd.
The echo of the scene reverberated on Taklin's ear until the night engulfed the group going around saturating the villages of the municipality hopefully to secure the needed votes for Bernabe. Personally though, he was optimistic that it's an uphill battle for Bernabe. And here's what caught him by surprise – a little boy standing on a makeshift platform hoisted by three mature men delivering the talk in vernacular. It was such dramatic antic with torches all over from participants illuminating the articulate boy.
"But who knows given the maturity now of the electorate and implacable incidents gripping the municipality in fear and trembling under the incumbent's abusive administration," the idea running in his mind finally prompted calling it a night what with those efforts albeit not solving entirely the problem.
Nice efforts anyway," he said wishing luck for his brother testthe ing water of politics continuing the tradition of service his father left off. He then dropped to bed for the needed rest.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
Waking up early dawn, he hurriedly proceeded to the port nearby where a pump boat would ferry him to Roxas, Oriental Mindoro. This is roughly one-and-a-half-hour ride before a van would take him on board to Calapan City.
"What a revelation it has been. By force of event demanding his presence helping facilitate the final resting place of his father," this he felt as fresh air kept him refre ed atop the pump boat bound for Roxas, Oriental Mindoro.
"What an adrenalin rush refreshing his mind embarking on those adventure," contemplated Taklin administering ambitious post mortem revealing defining moment of his character.
"Why not. If you could do it with the rest respecting lives, how much more to your loving father," the reflection drifting Taklin's thought to nowhere.
The pump boat glided lazily against giant waves pushing its way further towards Mindoro beaconing from the horizon. From there, a ferry would then ship him further to Batangas City before proceeding to Camp Aguinaldo for the new official mission. He would be heading a military operation somewhere in Mindanao during the conduct of 1the 3th Plenum of the Reds. This is the news he gathered around and just give no importance to it.
"Let this mandate be accepted without rumblings after all such mission defines what kind of stuff a true officer is made of," he said but of course accepting it with reservation given the possibility of encountering too the Grim Reaper already considered bridesmaid of any military.
. . . . . . . . . .