I AM a Filipino-American born and raised in California. My grandfather
immigrated to the United States in the 1920s to seek a better life.
He worked as a migrant farmer throughout the western States. When
World War II broke out, he volunteered for the US Army. There were
two Filipino infantry regiments developed at Fort Ord, Monterey, California.
When the two regiments were consolidated for deployment, a reconnaissance
group was formed. This particular group was comprised mostly of Eskrimadors
from the Visayas and Mindanao. My grandfather belonged to this group.
This reconnaissance group would later prove most valuable to General
MacArthur, as they were his eyes and ears, which he sent as advance
party to weaken Japanese defenses prior to the actual force invasion—the
Americans' return to the Philippines. My grandfather kept a Japanese
officer's samurai sword, laced with dried blood, as a reminder of
his role in the Philippines during World War II.
When the war ended, my grandfather and grandmother met. One month
later, they married and moved to California. For my grandmother, the
voyage to the US was full of excitement and hope. To my grandfather,
his return was full of apprehension. Will the signs of "NO DOGS
OR FILIPINOS ALLOWED" still hang outside restaurants and hotels?
Will random acts of murders by white mobs still happen now that his
people fought for this country? Will they be able to buy a decent
house in a decent neighborhood? Will his family go through the violence
and hardships he went through as a Filipino before the World War?
All these thoughts raced through his head on that return journey.
As expected racism still ran rampant. But as in any situation, you
make the best with what you have. And so, my grandparents raised a
family. They had eight children. My father was the youngest. At the
age of 5, each child was taught Eskrima. My grandfather credits Eskrima
to his survival. According to him, you can never go wrong with teaching
your children martial arts. Among his children, my father excelled
at the art. Following my grandfather's footsteps, he joined the US
Army.
Since he was a child, my father had always wanted to join the military.
He went to West Point, and became an officer. He served two tours
in Vietnam. He was then assigned to Washington DC, where he met my
mother. My mother is a third generation Filipina-American. Her grandparents
were pensionados who came to the US in the 1910s as students and their
studies in America were subsidized by the government. With a great
sense of connection to each other, amidst a turbulent era, they married.
I am the second of three boys. I attended UC Berkeley, and later
joined the US Army. I attended the Defense Language School in Monterey,
California. I am in the Special Forces. For 6 months now, I have been
assigned in the southern Philippines. Recently, the Balikatan Exercises
for 2003 commenced. I don't know what we are doing here.
De Oppresso Liber, to free the oppressed. This is why I joined the
Green Berets. My grandparents and great grandparents experienced America's
oppression, its racism and violence. I know about oppression. We are
not freeing the oppressed here, we are helping a nation oppress its
own.
I discovered a few months ago that the majority of field officers
in the Filipino Armed Forces are Ilokanos. Throughout Mindanao, battalion
size elements are headed by Ilokano colonels whose majors and lieutenant
colonels are also Ilokano. It seems that in addition to running a
military outfit, they also dabble in real estate and extortion. This
is very obvious, yet the higher officers of the US military have decided
to turn a blind eye to this.
The US wants a base in Basilan. Road and infrastructure construction
is already underway. They have continued to charm the locals. Prostitution
has already ran rampant. I believe this is the only reason why we
are here. The Philippines is a very useful staging area for operations,
as well as R & R—as it is very easy to lure young Filipinas
to become prostitutes for the American servicemen.
President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo has no control of her military.
There is a group of "terrorists" running around in the South,
which actually is a smoke screen for the Philippine military's extortion
and real estate scam. The Americans are called over, and we swing
our swords around and ask for a base. While all this is going on,
people in small towns are getting annihilated. We are not freeing
the oppressed.
The Moros—Filipino Moslems—throughout centuries have
fought foreign invaders. They've resisted the Spaniards and the Americans
at the turn of the century. The Yakans of Basilan was the reason the
caliber .45 became necessary. But, in the end, they were no match
for their brethrens from the North, who came with deeds to lands,
a piece of paper that made you an owner of a piece of the earth. This
is very similar to what happened to the American Indians, when white
Americans divided parcels of land which the Indians thought could
only belong to Nature. And as the Native Americans have slowly disappeared,
so too will the Filipino Moslems. But as their tradition dictates,
they will not go without a fight. Sadly, they will have to fight us,
the liberators of the oppressed.
This goes against everything my family has gone through. This goes
against everything I believe in.
I should not be here. We should not be here. De Oppresso Liber!!!
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