The Punishment That Became A Blessing

(17th of ‘My Story’ Series)

The road to finding my partner for life didn’t begin with dinner and a romantic serenade. It began with an airborne graduation party, an overdose of booze, and some flying helmets.

In 1980, I was part of a select group of Scout Rangers sent to Fort Magsaysay for a grueling six-week Airborne Training course. I threw myself into it, even earning the Outstanding Jumper Award. But the celebration that followed our graduation took a wild turn. The Scout Rangers and Special Forces (SF) – the 2 elite fightingest units of the Army – have always shared a fierce, friendly rivalry; and that night, fueled by a lethal concoction fondly called the “prop-blast wine,” that rivalry went completely out of bounds. A huge helmet-throwing brawl erupted on the 2nd floor barracks while we were celebrating at the ground floor. As we scrambled to pacify the chaotic scene, I did a quick headcount of my hopelessly outnumbered, yet certainly never outfought fellow Rangers. We were short by one.

Fearing the worst, and still feeling woozy from the overdose of prop-blast wine, I went absolutely crazy. I started harassing the SF guys, loudly challenging anyone and everyone to a fight, waking everybody up, demanding that they produce my missing comrade. They couldn’t. The hilarious twist? We discovered the next morning that our missing Ranger had simply jumped out of the 2nd-floor window to sleep peacefully in the nearby woods, entirely oblivious of the war I had started on his behalf. Imagine that! Here was one officer raring to start a war over someone taking a nap!

Our Special Warfare Brigade Commander then, the late Col David Abundo, was not amused. The next day, he hauled me in and bawled me out emphatically for single-handedly ruining his painstaking efforts to foster harmony between the Rangers and the Special Forces. As punishment, he banished me from the Rangers and transferred me directly to the SF. To double down on the disciplinary action, the SF promptly shipped me off to a remote assignment in Mindanao. I was forced to swallow my pride and accept the re-assignment. I arrived in the hinterlands of Agusan province in eastern Mindanao as the absolute lowest ranking, most junior officer – and a non-SF qualified outsider at that.

At the time, it felt like total exile. I was being punished for opening up long-standing scars brought about by the rivalry between the Scout Rangers and the Special Forces. And so, there I was in one of the God-forsaken frontiers in MIndanao. It was a humbling experience, but my Brigade Commander wanted me to see and appreciate, up close and personal, the noble work being done by the SF on the other side of the fence. Looking back now, my reassignment to the SF and my deployment to Mindanao was pure providence.

During that period of intense urban insurgency in Davao, I was then a junior Special Forces officer moving around Eastern Mindanao organizing and training local militias called the Civilian Home Defense Forces (CHDF) in high-stakes, dangerous conditions. Months later, after a grueling day of work with our CHDFs in Davao City, fate quietly arranged a meeting I could never have planned for myself. I was invited to a local restaurant, and this is where I met a young lady who was working as the establishment’s newly hired chef. A recent graduate from the University of the Philippines (UP) in Diliman, Wit had a notoriously biased impression of soldiers. But I noted that she possessed that unmistakable confidence that only comes from someone who thinks for herself. She wasn’t intimidated by uniforms, rank, or titles. In fact, the military uniform seemed to invite her skepticism.

I had barely been introduced when she looked at me and asked, almost matter-of-factly: “Sundalo ka pala? Ilan na ang napatay mo?” (So you’re a soldier? So, how many men have you killed?”) For a second, I didn’t know how to react. I didn’t know whether to laugh or to take it seriously and defend myself.

To Wit, the military uniform represented everything she disliked. We would later clash over controversial topics, including the practice of hamletting, the alleged military abuses, and even the brewing secessionist conflict in Moslem Mindanao.

Naturally, I took that as a challenge. I set out to prove to her that soldiers weren’t the brainless, heartless brutes she imagined. I said to myself that I was going to make it my personal crusade to change her outlook on men in uniform. But what started as an attempt to defend my profession – as well as the honor of every decent soldier I have had the privilege of working with – quickly evolved into something entirely different.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped looking forward to winning our arguments and started looking forward simply to seeing her again. And it was no longer because I cared about defending the military anymore; it was because I was slowly being captivated by her wit and charm. I was genuinely looking forward to our intellectual exchanges. Wit was sharp, articulate, and kept me on my toes all the time.

What had first drew me to her wasn’t her beauty, although that certainly was a big bonus. It was her courage to question everything she believed was wrong – even when she knew I disagreed. She challenged me, and in doing so, she made me examine not only my profession, but also myself.

Without realizing it, I was falling hard. She had cast a spell on me, and it was the beginning of my eventual, yet perfectly fine demise. Yes, sometimes I wonder if she was just using all those fiery topics to reel me in like a fish being hooked. Which I allowed. With pleasure.

We got married in August 1984, and before long, our little family began to grow. One by one, our home grew louder, happier, and wonderfully more chaotic. Bianca arrived first, followed by Carlo, Aly, and finally Josh. They would become our greatest adventure – far more challenging than airborne training, and infinitely more rewarding. These four kids would give more meaning and more blessings to our growing home.

Looking back now, I sometimes smile at the crazy chain of events that made it all possible. A graduation celebration… too much prop-blast wine… a missing Ranger who wasn’t missing at all… an exasperated brigade commander… a hardship-assignment I never wanted… and later, a young UP graduate who challenged nearly everything I believed in. If someone had told me that my hotheadedness would eventually lead me to the woman who would become my life’s greatest blessing, then maybe I’d try to be more hot-tempered at times. I may have lost my beloved Ranger unit that year, but I found my partner for life. And I’d gladly endure every flying steel helmet, every tongue-lashing, and every peril that went with that unwanted transfer to the SF all over again – because every twist of that unlikely journey led me to the greatest blessing God has placed in my life, Wit.

For a closer look, just click on the pics.