"I think that girl has a crush on you," Vicente uttered in a low voice in the stillness of the night.
I was staring at the sky and its beautiful host of stars, listening to the music of the crickets and the gentle rustle of the grass, when the random statent ca out of nowhere.
I looked at him across the small campfire. His round eyes reflected the flas. He had gained a bit of flesh in his cheeks, likely due to the extra rations Isabela had been giving him ever since she took charge of the kitchen staff in Kasily.
"What girl?" I asked, scratching an itch on my neck and reflexively slapping at it. My palm ca up empty. False alarm—but I had already killed maybe twenty mosquitoes, and my hands, face, and neck were riddled with bites.
The mosquitoes were having a feast in Landi, especially with a hundred recruits sprawled out in the open, asleep in the middle of the road. They lay with their backs against the soil and their heads resting on their packs. All their equipnt—except for their uniforms, ammunition pouches, rifles, and boots—had been removed and laid neatly beside them.
It was the second week of advanced training, aning a far more intense regin and even more drills packed into their already tight schedule. That night, they hadn’t expected to be sleeping out in the open—but I was introducing yet another lesson.
Surrounding the sleeping recruits at a distance were small campfires for the officers I had assigned to stay awake. Vicente and I had taken position to their east; Colonel Abad and Capitan Roque were to the west; Dimalanta and Pedro, to the north. To the south, hidden from sight and knowledge, were Eduardo and his n, along with a couple of swivel guns they had temporarily unmounted from the ship.
"Señorita Alicia... she lights up whenever you’re around, and she won’t stop staring at you," Vicente said, picking up the pan that had slid down from the coconut log he’d been using as a seat.
I exhaled loudly and returned my eyes to the stars and the silver crescent moon. "She’s just grateful, Vicente. Don’t read too much into it. If I had saved you, you’d be beaming at the sight of too."
"Yeah... but I wouldn’t be twirling my hair or raising the pitch of my voice when I talked to you," he muttered, pursing his lips.
I chuckled. "It baffles how you can be that observant and still as dense as a rock."
He raised his eyebrows and leaned in with a hand cupped to his ear.
I picked up the iron pot and the corresponding tal ladle from beside and stood. "I said it’s ti to wake them up."
He promptly followed, snatching up his pan and a rock before waving to the rest of the officers. Soon enough, they stood from their seats, each ard with their own noise-making instrunts.
I exhaled deeply, cleared my throat, and struck the pan with the ladle. Then I began yelling as I walked slowly but deliberately toward the sleeping recruits. Vicente and the rest of the officers followed suit, with Dimalanta—ever the overachiever—shouting at the top of his lungs.
Suddenly, the roar of a small cannon tore through the air. We flinched, even though we’d expected it. Eduardo and his n had begun firing the swivel guns with dummy rounds.
As anticipated, the initial response was chaos. The recruits imdiately grabbed their rifles and started aiming them, despite being unloaded, as if it would save them. The cadets had been briefed beforehand, but they too froze montarily.
Teofilo Roque erged as the most promising of the cadets during the first week of advanced training. That night, he was also the first to recover from the shock. After a few monts, he began shouting orders to his n, instructing them to grab their gear and run to the drill fields. Lorenzo Madrigal was the second to compose himself and quickly mirrored Roque’s commands. Mario Nepomuceno and Cristobal Madrigal took a bit longer to snap out of it but eventually rembered their instructions.
We continued marching forward, banging pots and pans, shouting, and herding the recruits toward the drill fields like exorcists driving out demons in so bizarre ritual. In their panic and haste, so left equipnt behind. One recruit ran straight into a bayonet dummy and got knocked out—Capitan Roque had to drag him up by the collar to get him back on his feet. Several others ended up in the wrong platoons and had to push their way back through the running crowd.
Finally, I raised a hand to halt the noise. One by one, the swivel guns fell silent. The last echoes faded into the night.
Breathless, disheveled, and wide-eyed, the recruits stood in formation in the drill field, grouped by platoon.
Roque’s n had arrived first, but several had left their equipnt behind. Lorenzo’s platoon ca in second, almost all fully geared. Nepomuceno’s group was third—many lacked rifles or wore only one boot. The younger Madrigal’s platoon ca dead last, but perhaps already expecting to finish last, they had at least made sure to bring all their gear.
Though not as frightened, we officers were just as drenched in sweat, still catching our breath. I might’ve lost my voice from all the yelling—but thankfully, I wouldn’t be the one handling the debriefing.
Colonel Abad had been doing so of the lectures on my behalf these past few days. Among the officers, he had studied my training materials the most thoroughly. With his background as a schoolteacher, he could instruct effectively—sotis even better than or Dimalanta.
I gave him a nod. He returned it and cleared his throat.
"What a disastrous result this is," he began, his voice slightly hoarse. "Most of you were caught asleep. If this had been a real ambush or attack, you would’ve been annihilated. You must understand that in real war, there will be no warnings—no waiting for daylight. That’s why you need to learn how to perform under sudden pressure and in total darkness."
"This was your first drill, and failure was expected," he paused. "But so of you perford better than the rest, and here, we reward those who excel."
"All platoons except Lorenzo’s will march an extra mile during your daily march."
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