by Tom Anthony
He was one of a select few officers from the Philippines who graduated from West Point, returning to his native country to fulfill his army obligations. His government sent him overseas again to attend the German General Staff College in Hamburg for a year. Liu spoke fluent German already, having studied it at West Point. Of course he spoke excellent English and several Filipino dialects: thus after a tour as the Defense Attaché to Korea, he had become something of a linguist. He even spoke passable French. But language was only one of his areas of intellectual interest and ability. He had graduated from Case-Western Reserve in Cleveland, Ohio, with a master’s degree in mechanical engineering, and he later taught engineering courses and thermodynamics at the Philippine Military Academy in Baguio. This was in addition to duty assignments as a professional officer, among them commanding an infantry company and later a battalion in the field.
Liu was now nearing the end of an assignment as military advisor to the Philippine congress, reporting to Martin Galan, Chairman of the Committee on National Defense, with whom the President consulted closely on military matters. Galan held the highest congressional office with direct access to the military, and, according to the laws of the Republic of the Philippines, civilians were supposed to control the military.
Newspapers were already reporting that Galan would be selected to become the next Secretary of Defense, but he had received no official word yet. The stories in the Philippine Star were a positive omen for him; it seemed that if the papers floated a theory that sounded good, the regime would go with the flow and make the rumor a reality. Galan had a real chance for the promotion, and great implied power already. The military would simply do what he said; they read the papers.
Liu had his personal opinions and issues with Galan, who was more than his boss; he was the man with whom he most often spoke his heart. In his official government position, Congressman Galan was far senior to Liu, but they had known each other since childhood, and then reconnected in the army, when both were stationed in central Luzon. Galan went back to Manila after his three years of military service and created for himself a successful civilian career in business, opening a private bank with a network of branches throughout the country. Satisfied in many ways with his business success, he chose to serve his country in another role and made a courageous—because in the Philippines politics is a dangerous business—move into politics, and in his fourth term, took on his new role as a senior trusted advisor when his political mentor was elected President. Liu thought Galan was incorruptible, not subject to the crazy schemes that abound in the Philippines. He could not imagine him being involved in a junta, coup d’état or revolution.
Liu and Galan met at least once a month at the Aristocrat, a downtown Manila restaurant that dated back to the time when Spanish culture was omnipresent in the Philippines. This time Liu arrived first, in uniform, and was immediately shown to the best table. Galan arrived a few minutes later in smart civilian dress, a light blue barong tagalog over black trousers, a style favored for formal occasions and that, when worn during the day, was an indication of higher class. They sat opposite each other after shaking hands and exchanging smiles.
Looking out over Manila Bay across Rojas Boulevard, Liu mused, “What happened to the Spanish language? It is so beautiful and essential. All you Pinoys have Spanish names but you can’t speak a word of it.”
“No, but at least they gave our forefathers Spanish names or we would still be just Bong, Dong and Jun.” Martin Galan knew about Liu’s interest in languages and jested with his friend.
“Even my Chinese ancestors seem to have run out of names, so my parents called me Reginald. It sounded like an English gentleman to them, I guess,” Liu responded.
“And here we sit, speaking English in a Spanish restaurant next to the American Embassy while our national language is Tagalog.” Galan pondered one of the dichotomies of the Philippine nation, the diverse culture, or rather the collection of different cultures that make up the nation and simultaneously keep it apart.
“Or is it? I thought our national language was English.”
“Maybe it should be, and at least it’s an official language, but can you get a Cebuano sergeant to shout commands in English to a Tagalog in the heat of an attack when they are pinned down by heavy automatic weapons fire, or when they’re supposed to attack? He’ll revert to the language he knows they will understand,” Galan said. “We have to teach them better.”
“You need to appropriate more money.” Liu, thinking like the professor he once was, gave it right back to Galan.
“I know English must be taught in schools, but patriotism and nationalism are not tied to any one language. We both know that English is not essential for daily living here, perhaps, but it is indispensable for global involvement and awareness, not just for our officials but for those who elect them.” Galan was turning serious and philosophical. “And for the workers who go overseas. They need to learn it also.”
Galan was touching on one of Liu’s lingering doubts about the future of democracy in his country. He put a possibility to Galan. “Think about the kind of government our voters will choose next. They might elect the best neighborhood karaoke singer rather than a statesman.”
“They better elect a statesman soon, or there will be no state. Even now, groups in Mindanao blame the Kadayawan bombing on disgruntled military officers who want to overthrow the government because of corruption,” Galan responded. Now they were getting to the real issues. Galan manifested his discontent when he did not answer Liu, but twisted the fancy restaurant’s red cloth napkin into a knot.
Encouraged by the direction their discussion was taking, Liu vented what was on his mind to Galan. “To get to the root of the problem, we must admit the truth. Some younger officers think all of us are corrupt, skimming off government cash and property for ourselves.” Liu believed in the constitution. It was a trade-off he made willingly; between greed and duty, he had chosen duty.
“They have a point, or did at one time in recent history,” Galan admitted, “but those young officers who raised their own flag over a fancy hotel and thought they were protesting for a new morality in government were not thinking about Mindanao. It never entered their minds. They were only thinking about the northern half of this country.”
Liu supported Galan’s opinion. “They were not thinking at all, and their silly antics just encourage the insurrectionists to push our nation into a civil war.”
“Reggie, I expect soon you will be a general officer.” Galan surprised Liu. If Galan wanted him to be promoted, he could make it happen.
“And I suppose some day you will be President,” Liu said, returning the compliment.
Galan fidgeted, but only slightly, and changed the subject. “We have to change the way we appoint our top generals.”
Liu was glad to have his own personal opinion reinforced by a man he respected. Galan continued, “Now, the Chief of Staff is appointed only for a year or less, more as a reward for loyal service than a recognition of competence. Once appointed, he brings along his cronies and promotes them to general officer rank, then soon after that a whole new flock of fledgling one-stars all retire and get their pensions and staff for life, a huge cost for a poor country. Better we appoint a younger man to be the chief and let him serve long enough to implement an agenda. Someday you could be that man, postpone your retirement for more stars; mentor your successor. In the meantime, you could help elect the next president.”
Liu liked what he heard. And so would many of the younger officers, the ones who served loyally and with little recognition. “You’re right, Martin, a lot of the officer corps right now are simply pissed off. Better we act sooner than have to react later to another internal revolt.” Liu wanted to show Galan his support.
Galan paused, refolded his napkin and replaced it neatly on the table. “There’s something I want to talk with you about, Reggie, in that regard. I need the right man to command an expanded force in Mindanao and the
Visayas to prevent the MNLF from taking over the southern Philippines. The peace talks are stalled, and the Moros have lost their patience. They are not accepting the obvious presence of American troops in the indigenous lands. Do you remember our conversation after the Army-Navy game at the U.S. Embassy, with that Thomas Thornton and the U.S. Embassy staff, especially the reps from their State and Defense Departments?”
“Yes, Thornton is an old acquaintance. We both graduated from West Point, different years, of course.” Liu wanted Galan to get to the issue. The waiters were standing ready to serve dessert.
“Apparently some things have started to roll between Washington and Manila. Both governments believe it is in their long-term best interest to thwart the global presence of Al Qaeda, and we have definite proof of a major initiative underway at this moment in Mindanao. I want you to lead our forces there on the ground. You will report, in theory, to Lieutenant General Roland Villarreal who heads Southern Command, but you will actually get your orders directly from me. Check in with Roland when you get to Davao City: he’ll work with you. I will be, unofficially, working with the U.S. Embassy: they have the intelligence-gathering mechanisms, satellites and tech systems, and some special forces on the ground now, “training” our rangers.”
Galan paused to let this sink in and to wait for questions. There were none, so he continued, “We will need to act immediately on the intelligence we get from them, I mean within minutes of receipt, so I will either be in the operations room of the JUSMAG personally or in direct contact with the Americans by telephone all the time. Our president has secretly approved all this, but we have to keep it quiet. Go by Army HQ, and coordinate all this with the Chief of Staff, then get to Davao City. Roland is instructed to give you troops and logistical support, but will let you command—for better or for worse, you’ll be on your own.” Galan laid out the problematical assignment for Liu, by its nature full of the possibility for disgrace and embarrassment if it got fouled up and little reward if it went perfectly.
“What’s new about the threat in Mindanao? Why me? Why now?” Liu wanted to confirm Galan’s commitment to him, and test the depth of the congressman’s authority. He saw his first star either within his grasp or slipping away—he was not sure which.
“The Abu Sayaf has some new money. Hot money; no way to trace it.”
“I am aware of that, and understand the U.S. interest in having Thornton make it disappear before they can use it.”
“Since the execution of that Muslim terrorist in Indonesia, Al Qaeda is now targeting bars and night clubs, churches, any place the cowards might be able to kill either a lot of people or, even better, a lot of tourists. The Kadayawan bombing in Davao City is just the start of their plan; there will be more incidents. They’re after softer targets to make a louder statement. It’s not just about going after our military, which might be too difficult for them,” Galan continued. “Their cells are functioning independently world-wide. No central control from Al Qaeda in Iran or Afghanistan is necessary. We need to pursue a second front against their clandestine cells. In Mindanao, for example, that Octagon gang, one of the cells, goes after rich Chinese, kidnapping unsuspecting wealthy citizens for ransom. Can you imagine, according to our intelligence, the MNLF has 12,000 men under arms in the North, the NPA has terrorist influence in the East, and the Abu Sayaf has training camps in the West? Only Davao City proper had been quiet, until the bombs and then the major catastrophe at Kadayawan last week. We lost the only powerful and charismatic leader we had in Mindanao when they killed Mayor Fuentes. I will give you the power and the authority, exclusively; you report directly only to me. So try to avoid snoopy seniors. You know the routine.”
Now Liu had the entire concept of the operation laid out clearly for him. It was a request, but it was also an order, given to him in friendly language and demeanor by Galan. Liu probed. “I suppose if anything goes wrong you blame me; if it goes right, you get the credit?”
“Reggie, you’re beginning to understand politics.” Galan smiled in a mock conspiratorial tone. Then he shocked the straitlaced Colonel.
“The Americans just want to make the money go away so the Abu Sayaf is not funded. They don’t care where it goes. Instead of this Thornton guy winding up with it, think about how much good we could do for our country if it wound up in some small bank in the middle of Mindanao, say, in somebody’s name, not yours or mine of course, but in someone’s name who would support the right choice for the next president. Wouldn’t that make a lot of sense? Think how much good we could do for our country. We could resolve all the problems we’ve just talked about.” Galan had his arm around Liu’s shoulder as they stood up and walked out of the Aristocrat, the last luncheon guests to return to the heat of an early afternoon in Manila.
What Galan told him sounded wrong to Liu, yet Galan’s hopes for their country were the same as his. Wasn’t this why he had sacrificed his best years?
As a last stop before he left Manila, after he had gone home and picked up his already packed combat kit and said goodbye yet again to Trisha, Liu went as ordered to Malacanang, the seat of the Philippine government, to meet personally with the Chief of Staff of the Army, General Ramil Ortiz. Although only a Colonel in rank, Liu was well known and respected throughout the army, partly because he had taught “thermo” to many of the younger army officers in their academy days in Baguio. General Ortiz was aware of the official mission assigned to Liu by Galan, and now he confirmed its importance. Reiterating the need to act discreetly during any military operation, Ortiz told Liu that he would get the necessary support on the ground from General Villarreal in Davao City, but he also wanted to brief Liu personally before he departed on his assignment.
Ortiz came right to the point. “We have got to sort out the Davao blast, find out who did it and eliminate them. Some of the overseas press, and even some regional rags published out there in the provinces, are conjecturing that the Kadayawan disaster was carried out not only by our own citizens, but also by members of our armed forces. Some suspect a coup is coming. We have empowered a Truth Commission to buy some time while they investigate the root reasons for the Davao City bombings. We don’t have much time. Meanwhile, the world views us as a banana republic. We must change this image, and we must change the facts, very soon.”
“All this I know, sir. And I will do my job.” Liu was honored, but needed to be tactful with Ortiz. What he was doing was not exactly according to protocol. “What reliable intelligence do we have? Exactly who do we think were the prime movers in the Davao incidents?” he asked.
“Not good intelligence, locally. Maybe Abu Sayaf, maybe NPA, but we have information from the U.S. that Al Qaeda is funding the local terrorists. But we can’t publish our version of the story without some hard proof, preferably some dead bodies, with documents. It must be made clear that no one in our government is sponsoring revolution in Mindanao. If that were the case, civil war throughout the Philippines could happen, even here in the north, at great cost in lives and to our progress as a nation.”
Liu took their discussion in another direction, “I understand the church is also raising questions. The Christians do not want to become Muslims.”
“And vice–versa, I am sure. We can’t comment about such matters even in jest. But we certainly need to take into account commercial business interests also,” Ortiz continued. “Merely the threat of civil war shuts off foreign investment, and then the peso crashes, our country can’t afford to pay the interest on our foreign debt and the whole house of cards collapses.”
Liu was sitting in the old, burnished rattan chair opposite the general’s desk, a chair he had occupied several times before when the situation was happier. He waited for the Chief of Staff to continue.
“Colonel Liu, Reggie, there will be some American involvement, I have been informed, but we must keep it low-key. Whatever you do must look like a Philippine Army operation, undertaken by our loyal citizen soldiers against a foreign threat to our coun
try. You know there are American troops in the area now. The Americans are in the field—but in Zamboanga, not in Davao.”
“The Vice Mayor, replacing Mayor Fuentes, is waiting for you with General Villarreal in Davao City. We know from the Americans where the Abu Sayaf patrol is stopped at the moment, so try to get there immediately, take charge of the field operation, and eliminate that renegade outfit before all Mindanao blows up!”
Colonel Liu left for Davao City in a C130 with a small cadre of rangers and support teams, and extra equipment to help out the existing Task Force Davao. He was intensely aware of the immensity of his assignment all the way south.
Davao City had been a small, dirty town lying on the two banks of the Davao River for the centuries of occupation, first by the Spanish and then the Americans. But during the last twenty years it had experienced rapid growth as territory was annexed and population multiplied. Tribespeople moved in from the jungles to taste city comforts and foreigners came from everywhere to seek their fortunes. Now it was a big dirty city lying on the two banks of the Davao River. There was not as much trash lining the streets or as many open sewers running into gutters on every block as before. Progress. Hovels built long ago on stilts above garbage dumps, where the freshly arrived natives from the country could literally live on the garbage, had been bulldozed and concrete shops with apartments above them put in their place. More progress.
Liu landed at the new and modern Davao City airport and was met by Vice Mayor Miguel Mandosong, accompanied by the bodyguards of the recently assassinated Mayor Fuentes. The arrival protocol was under the nervous control of Mandosong, who was actually now the mayor in fact, if not yet accepted by the people or even by his own subconscious.
