Rebels of Mindanao (32 page)

Liu felt his spirits rise. With bigger authority came bigger responsibilities—and bigger opportunities for success. He started to cross the road, then fell back to watch the rest of the infantry brigade move forward, some in trucks, most on foot. Altogether, over a thousand armed soldiers would be in the infantry brigade that Liu would have available to him. During the next twenty-four hours, two more infantry brigades checked in, their commanders reporting to Liu, and were assigned positions farther north, near the highway, with logistical tails running back to the port of General Santos City. Liu was in command of a force exceeding a full division of infantry, reinforced, and he ended the day walking among his new troops, his insignia of rank unnoticed in the dark.

The sun rises quickly near the equator. The early rays of the new day's sun reflected off the polished steel breech locks of the artillery pieces when the crews opened them for Colonel Liu's morning inspection. He trooped the line of six of the howitzers with their crews lined up and at
silent attention in their positions. He went on to visit two more batteries and then the adjacent headquarters of the infantry brigades.

He was pleased at the quiet efficiency of the newly arrived units. Boxes of ammunition were stacked within a few steps of the howitzers, and beside each stack two rounds were already out of the ammo boxes, the brass-tipped detonators shimmering in the sun, ready to ignite their explosive centers on target. During his inspection tours, the only sounds were the peaceful bells of a Catholic church calling its congregation to early morning Mass and the slow wail of an imam's chant in Arabic, broadcast from speakers wired into the turret of a mosque in the same village, a village where Christians and Muslims had lived in peace for centuries until both factions began to get help from foreigners.

The commander had asked the leaders of his subordinate units to meet him in the mess tent for breakfast. Major Hayes was already there—it seemed to Colonel Liu that the American officer was always around his headquarters—and his own officers filled the tent. When he sat down in front of the large map and a blackboard, he told his officers to relax and to smoke with their coffees, if they wished.

Having arrived early, Major Hayes had a good seat, away from the smokers and beside Colonel Liu's chair. Before the Colonel started the meeting, Hayes took him aside, “Colonel, I have news. Our intelligence has discovered that the main NPA force has relocated out of the triangle and moved into Itig village.”

Liu was silent for a moment while it sunk in. “Hum. Logical. They want to use the radio station, so they'll need to defend it, to put their headquarters there. It will be a nice target, easy for my artillery to determine the exact coordinates.”

Liu stood up to address the officers, but when Radio Free Mindanao began the news on the half hour he turned up the volume and tuned in the rogue station so they could all hear.

The commentator reported, “The combined power of the Abu Sayaf with our friends the MNLF have joined forces with our brothers of the NPA, and all those who accept the true God and will declare their faith in public on election day. They will be the ones who will share the riches of our new nation. Together we will drive the foreign soldiers out of Mindanao. Thirty days from today elections will be held in your village.
Vote for your voice in the new Islamic Republic of Mindanao. Our legislature will convene in Zamboanga City on the tenth day after that, our new nation, Enshallah, will no longer pay taxes to others. And what we can change in the Philippines; others can change in the world.” The announcer went on to explain the rationale; if the U.S. could invade Iraq and call elections, then the Abu Sayaf and their local supporters, now growing in number, could call elections in Mindanao.

The Itig radio station held by the NPA had announced, in effect, independence from the Republic of the Philippines, and amplified their proclamation with this shocking call to elections. A copy of the broadcast would be on its way electronically to Manila within the minute, and copies would also be sent directly to General Hargens and Charlie Downs in Washington. Twelve time zones from Mindanao in either direction, the Chairman of the U.S. Joint Chiefs of Staff would hear it on his way to the Pentagon from his home in Fairfax Station, Virginia. It would get to the Oval Office, and the president would not be happy. In America, the turmoil would cause critics to question the direction the president was taking his nation. “Why is he getting us involved in another Iraq?” they would question. The Mindanao war could contribute to regime change in more than one country.

For the next hour, Liu listened to the recommendations of the other officers as they discussed various alternatives and courses of action. “We don't know exactly what we're up against at Itig, but it's big and getting bigger,” Liu continued his briefing. “Before we finalize our plan and commit our main force to combat, Captain Bautista, get together a patrol of experienced men and probe the area around the radio station. Move toward the center of the NPA encampment without starting a real engagement. Approach as close as you can, determine the strength of their forces, fire some rounds at likely targets, and report what you get fired back at you.”

Hayes turned to Liu. “I see by the number of new troops and artillery that you have chosen the second option.”

Colonel Liu let him guess. “Which is?”

“You've massed your firepower; you're going for the big kill.”

Liu answered him briefly, as he would be laying out his strategy in a few minutes to his staff in any case. “You got it. No more playing
around. After almost forty years, their time is past,” referring to his NPA enemy. “This will be the last time they celebrate the anniversary of their founding.”

Then Hayes made his request tactfully. “I'd like to see your men in action on this one.”

“OK with me, Major, but stay out of the way. You're already a nice, big target, so don't become a nice big problem, if you know what I mean.” Liu had other things to worry about.

Against Liu's advice, Hayes decided to go along on Captain Bautista's patrol. As it turned out, he should have listened to the colonel.

M
ahir and Kumander Ali entered a house beside a crudely constructed communal basketball court in the center of Itig town. They stood on the open-sided, raised platform porch comfortably shaded by a thatched roof of woven
anahaw
leaves. From their elevation they could see the intersection below them where a heavily traveled footpath crossed the road leading up a slight incline into Itig. With binoculars, Ali observed two of Liu's scouts standing near their jeep at the intersection, looking in the town's direction.

After a few minutes, a jeep appeared to pick up the scouts and return to their headquarters in time for their meal and to report that there was a straight, open avenue of approach leading directly to the radio station.

Squatting on the porch, the two NPA leaders spoke in English, the common denominator for communication. They both knew that the Philippine army would soon be coming after them and the radio station. “Brother Mahir, I trust you to protect the station while I am meeting
with the tribal leaders. I have to get them started back to their villages with the money to pay the voters before election day,” Ali told Mahir.

Mahir had achieved the mission he was paid to do—deliver the money to the leaders—but he had been offered a chance to accomplish much more and to embarrass the Philippine government and their foreign allies as a side benefit. The idea appealed to him, and he had his opportunity to commit to jihad, to gain favor with Allah. He had come a long way to leave too soon, so he had accepted Ali's order to lead a unit made up of recently recruited members of the NPA.

Mahir had begun to believe in a greater moral mission. Kumander Ali was vocal in his condemnation of the Philippine president for his personal support of the PSI, the Proliferation Security Initiative. The current president and recent ones before him had unintentionally justified the cause of the insurrection by involving foreign nations in their earlier negotiations with the MNLF and NPA. What happened in Mindanao was none of the business of the foreign capitalists. Mahir wondered how America would react if Russian paratroopers jumped into Arizona to enforce the rights of native American Indians? Now the ironic result of Manila's request for foreigners to help them fight their own countrymen would be the launching of a movement whose inevitable climax would be the achievement of an independent Mindanao.

After Ali retired inside the hut, Mahir found Lateef, who was trying to charge his cell phone, but there was no electricity in the village this week. Lateef was privy to Kumander Ali's ideas and intentions, and Mahir wanted to sound him out. With Lateef were three of his long-time followers, telling obscene jokes about Ugly Maria, how she looked and how she died. Lateef wanted them to change the subject and asked them for ideas about how to collect more revenue after they had control of the province. One of the men suggested burning buses that were engaged in intercity transportation; after a few buses were burned—they would let the passengers out first, of course—the bus companies would agree to pay revolutionary taxes that the new NPA government would levy on each trip, to be collected in cash from the driver at checkpoints. It was a solid plan, the man thought. For certain, Lateef needed cash to support his three wives and their extended families down through second cousins; he was the patriarch, and none of them had ever worked for
pay. He and the cause could use extra revenue in the future, after the Syrian investment capital had been spent on the election. Lateef supported the suggestion, and added, “To collect revolutionary taxes, I recommend we blow up some of the heavy equipment of the international mining companies working in the Compostela Valley. That will get them to pay quickly.” The strategists turned to quiet contemplation.

Mahir took the opportunity to ask Lateef, “Why does Kumander Ali trust me, why does he assign me, a foreigner, to a position of command?”

Lateef was pleased to fill in the blanks. “Kumander Ali is turning over tactical leadership for an important mission to you, Brother Mahir, because you are an ideal leader,” Lateef told him. “You are more educated than most of us. And you speak Arabic and English, which will be very useful as our new nation grows in the future. But most of all because you chose to stay with us and share our struggle. Now that you are one of us, you should choose a new code name, perhaps an English alias, so we will know what to call our Turkish brother.”

Mahir decided instead that he would insist that his men all address him simply as Brother. Many chieftains, even those leading only a few of their tribesmen, liked to make up tough, Hollywood-sounding nicknames, like Kumander or Commander, but as a leader he would not choose such a new name; he liked the sound of Brother in this foreign land. He had an important assignment. He commanded a unit of the newly forged NPA alliance. It was a big job.

The number of warriors was increasing by the hour as new recruits, usually groups of five to ten at a time, continued to show up. Bright smiles glowed as the campfire coals reflected enthusiasm and commitment. At home they were big fish in little ponds. Kumander Ali let them all believe that they were in charge and herded them into a loose order of battle by assigning campfire sites. Enough of them were spread around at least to protect Ali's personal headquarters from surprise.

When the minor leaders appeared at Kumander Ali's headquarters, each of them expecting to assume command, he entertained them with betel nut chews and warm Coca Cola, and then made his speech. “Be aware of the tricks of the devil. The Americans want to talk to us because they are losers. We have started a war we will win, and then we must build our nation. Get rid of the foreigners, make
your swords drip with their blood, move forward with God's blessing.” He gave them each a banded stack of a few hundred-dollar bills, suggesting that they share it with their followers, after exchanging the large foreign notes into pesos at a good rate. The impressed tribal leaders hastily departed with their stash as the twilight would soon turn into night. Thoughts of combat leadership were quickly forgotten, as the faction chiefs were anxious to get away before their followers heard about the windfall.

While passing into the street after counting his money, one of the important chiefs slipped his roll of cash into the crotch of his briefs, to make it more secure in case he was accosted. Realizing that he might have been observed, he made a pretense of scratching himself in various places. To complete a façade of poor personal hygiene, he made exaggerated and noisy gestures of blowing his nose into the nearby gutter where slimy water flowed slowly. He then proceeded along his way, satisfied that no one would suspect that he carried so much wealth. He felt proud about his role and his high position in the NPA hierarchy.