WE WERE the finest firefighters of our time. I am talking about fighting mountain and forest fires in Baguio in the 1950s when we were fourth, fifth, and sixth-grade students at Easter School, an elementary school run by the Anglican Episcopal Church.
Easter School lay at the foot of pine tree-studded hills which stretched about five kilometers northward to Trinidad Valley, known then as the Salad Bowl of the Philippines for its vast vegetable farms. Because of the easily ignited resinous sap of pine and the cogon grass which was the primary ground cover, fires frequently threatened the school’s property line. Carelessly thrown cigarettes, lightning, and camp cooking by woodcutters, bird hunters and picnickers were the usual causes of conflagrations. Responding year-round to these turned us into expert firefighters, including my brother John who was one grade below me during that period.
Whenever smoke was sighted on the high horizon, we would rush from our classrooms, not helter-skelter but with discipline and long-practiced direction. The main group sprinted towards the suspected source of the smoke. A smaller group would flank left and the third team to the right. If the fire had begun to spread, the group on the threatened side would look for the best place to clear ground for a fire break. The other team meanwhile would maneuver to the rear to create a similar swath of cleared ground which the fire hopefully could not cross.
We would spade up bushes, shrubs, and grass to make long clearings two meters or wider if we had the time. At other times, it was faster and easier to light counter fires in the path of the oncoming big fire, resulting in a fiery, final dying embrace. We became experts in this technique of fighting fire with fire because it was necessary to gauge correctly wind strength, speed and direction and the point of convergence of the fires. Sudden wind shifts would find us literally eating smoke and ash.
The main fire-facing team attacked with bundles of alnus tree branches which were leafier in contrast to flammable pine needles. In the fashion of the muzzle-loading infantry of olden days, the first line would fall back before they would get roasted and a second line would take their place. When we reached some springs or the creek which carved a ravine beyond the school boundary, we would form pail brigades to throw water on both fire and feverish battlers.
Even if the fire changed direction and headed away from Easter School, we would pursue it for days, camping out at nights while the younger students would bring us food and drinking water. On several occasions, when we had defeated the fire, we would see through the thinning smoke the similarly singed and blackened faces of firemen-farmers from Trinidad Valley.
I fought my first forest fire when I was ten years old. I graduated from firefighting three years later when I left Easter School to enter high school on the other side of town.
Fighting fire is punishing work. But we were young then – and strong – and we faced danger with recklessness, even devilment, as there was no explanation for deadened arms and shoulders continuing to swat and flail. There was also laughter but I realize now that it sprung from vocal chords releasing feelings of fear.
I drive to Baguio from my Valenzuela home perhaps once or twice a year to visit relatives and friends. Gazing at the hills which I once fiercely protected, I see no more the green-needled pine trees of my pre-teens but rather a proliferation of tin-roofed houses. It is with a certain sadness and also fond memories that I recall the Bangaans, Botengans, Rulivas, Agyaos, Yangoses, Salvadors, Baucans, Arcidos, Lardizabals, and a few other names now faint in the fading memory of an aging warrior. Wherever they are, those around them will learn they can be counted on. I know, for I stood shoulder to shoulder with them. We were bonded by flame – virtually made brothers by fire.
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This article was posted for the first time on "facebook" in November 2010. The author is an alumnus of Easter School, Class 1956, when it was an elementary school. A retired newsman, he was former managing editor of the People's Journal and former executive editor of the Journal Group of Publications.