WHEN I was a kid, I loved to listen to the war stories of Tatay Nicolas, Lolo Pedro and Lolo Vito. In our family lunch table, Lolo Pedro would always brag that he was able to see a “dog fight” of Japanese and American planes one noon time in 1944. The slow – moving Japanese plane was hit by a machine gun bullet and crash landed in the middle of his camote field.

The wounded pilot went out of the plane but the residents of Hda. Adela were afraid to help because he was carrying a gun. Before sunset, several squads of angry Japanese soldiers were there to retrieve their dead comrade. They moved out with their bayonets fixed ready for “huwes de kutsilyo” just in case they met civilians.

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My father, Nicolas (a young man, then), was helping the family as a meat buyer (comprador) in Saravia (E.B. Magalona). He would traverse the Silay – Saravia highway with his American bike. He got two passes. His Japanese pass was issued by Lt. Soda (a former gardener of the Gamboas in Hda. Luguay but when the Japs arrived in Silay, he turned out to be a lieutenant of the Japanese Imperial Army). Soda used to borrow my father’s bicycle when he was still a gardener.

The guerilla pass was issued by Lt. Castillo, a close friend of the family and the commanding officer of Vito. My father was buying meat in Saravia for the consumption of the family of German Unson, the owner of Hda. Adela. All kinds of meat in Silay were always bought earlier for the kitchen of the Japanese.

There were instances that my father was inspected by the Japanese patrol on his way back. He got no choice but to swallow his guerilla pass. Leaving or coming in to Silay was difficult. There were sentry points in strategic places backed up with pill boxes with mounted machine guns. (The ruins could still be seen up to now - in front of Jalandoni Provincial Hospital, Silay Public Cemetery and near the entrance of Antilla Subdivision.)

Hacenderos and jornaleros had to bow before an ugly Japanese soldier (sometimes the bemoustached Koreans) or else one would taste the “mag-asawang sampal” (double slap). Sometimes, women were subjected to “abri buri” (upskirting) so that the soldiers would know if women were hiding firearms somewhere there… or it was just their malicious intention.

The Emilio Gaston Elementary School (Tres Fuentes) was a Japanese garrison. Many Filipinos were tortured or killed in the dungeon. The Japanese Imperial Army Headquarters was at Silay North Elementary School (near the public plaza). Suspected guerillas were always gathered at the plaza for warning. Those who were confirmed were executed at Luguay Bridge.

Vito (Jovito Pacete) was the ace hitman in the guerilla unit of Lt. Castillo. Lolo Pedro said that his cousin was simply brave and daring. Even before the war, nobody wanted to challenge him in any fight. He would always fight up to his enemy’s doorstep.

In his special missions, Vito would always borrow my father’s horse, Buhawi. Only father and Vito could ride Buhawi. (Of course, Buhawi gave my father a broken collar bone. But, that’s another story.) Vito was fond of irritating Japanese soldiers by leading pocket ambuscades in the patrol trails outside Silay. He would appear and disappear like Zorro. He was most wanted by the Japanese Imperial Army and feared by Silaynons who became spies and Japanese policemen. Vito was also like Robin Hood. He would confiscate big baskets loaded with bangus for the ration of the Japanese. He would also take sacks of Japanese money from the compradores who were Japanese collaborators. The loot was distributed to the farmers.

Vito’s dream was to punish Manuel Intay, the dreaded, blood-thirsty Silaynon spy (taklob-libon) working for the Japs. He was responsible for the execution of genuine and suspected guerillas. Vito’s dream came true. One day, he was able to pass through the sentry and the garrison by dressing like an old woman.

He crossed Matagoy Creek and in clandestine manner was able to get inside the community where he came face to face with Manuel Intay who was collecting tong from the gambling operators. Intay was quick but Vito was quicker. Both of them pulled out their guns but only one gunshot was heard. Intay was hit in the thigh. His gun was on the ground.

The trembling Intay clasped his hands and begged Vito for his life. Vito’s gun was in his mouth. The trigger was waiting to be squeezed. Intay cried like a puppy.

Vito left a short but hard message, “Manuel, be glad, you are not a Japanese. I don’t kill Filipinos! Enjoy your second life!” Like a phantom, Vito disappeared.

When war came to an end, Vito married his girlfriend, Nilac. Manuel Intay was physically and emotionally humiliated by the Silaynons. He became a persona non grata in his hometown. He vanished in Silay. Many believed he was killed by the family of his victims or assassinated by his fellow spy to keep his mouth shut. Nobody really knew of his status.

Vito lived outside Silay because the policemen of the Japanese also became the policemen of the government after the war. His name was not included in the official list of the guerillas. He did not receive pension from the Republic of the Philippines. He died when he was 75 years old. He is now almost forgotten.

I dedicated this humble story to the genuine veterans of World War II. May your spirits live in us! I salute!