Date: Wed, 30 Aug 2006 17:32:13 +0800 From: Jose Cruz Subject: Philippine-American War part 4 Although this story is fictional, the cultural milieu is based on the history of the Philippine-American War of 1899-1902 (downplayed by American textbooks as the "Philippine Campaign" or "Philippine Insurrection" as an attempt to cover up America's first overseas war of extermination where 600,000-1,000,000 Filipinos died.) Any similarities to any persons or events, past or present are purely coincidental except for historical figures mentioned. This story may contain scenes which involve sexual situations between males. If this type of material is offensive to you, or it is not legal for you to be reading this type of material, please do not read any further. Please do not copy this story for distribution or post on any online server without the author's permission. * * * * * July 27, 1900 2:00 p.m. It has been two days since my last entry. My constitution up here in Mt. Tanginamo is taking its toll. I am down with a harsh cough and fever since it rained hard yesterday. I I woke up this morning with an utterly painful headache and muscle pains. I was literally burning, and sweating that I could hardly get up from my bed. It was really unfortunate to get sick at a time as critical as this- especially with a deranged prisoner breathing down on my neck. The skies literally poured a deluge over our camp yesterday. It was so sudden that I had to rush to the huts of both captives so that I could be assured that they would not have a chance to escape. To my relief, my men had already locked the doors and secured the windows of both huts. A couple of them guarded Pvt. Wilkins' hut, while Pvt. Colt's has none, but I ordered Sgt. Tibo-on to put up a guard on the adjacent hut to keep an eye on Colt's hut. I had underestimated their zeal, but yesterday, they stand tall before my eyes. Such loyal and ever-prepared men! I was wet from the rain, my uniform was soaked badly and my boots were caked with mud. It was perhaps an hour or so before I returned to my hut where I took a short cold bath and hung my wet clothes on the bathroom line. I was terribly tired that I immediately plopped on my bed and slept like a dead man. In the middle of the night, I woke with a start; my body was racked with fever. The bed was wet with sweat and I felt the weight of the world sat on top of my head. Near the bed was a tray of food and a glass of water. I touched the bowl and it was cold. I had no appetite that evening so I turned to my side and slept again. Before losing consciousness, I thought of Pvt. Colt and how he threatened me to go to his hut each evening. My lips gave a slight smile knowing that I reneged on my promise to the stupid Amerikano. After that, everything became dark. * * * * The harsh light from the bamboo slats of my window crept into my eyes. Feeling the uncomfortable heat, I opened my tired eyelids and saw that it was already past noon. Slowly, I realized my body was feeling worse than yesterday, my legs and arms were tender and my throat was still sore. My fever, as I have feared, did not break. My eyes darted to my writing table and saw that the tray of food from last night was gone. Someone had removed it and in its place was an amber bottle of salicylates and my overnight glass of water. "Was it Sgt. Tibo-on?" I thought. "Well, it must be him for who else would know where I hid my first aid kit? Sgt. Tibo-on! Always reliable!" Suddenly, the bamboo door opened and in came David Colt. I was initially flabbergasted how comfortably he entered my private space. No one ever dared come barging in without a knock on the door, not even Sgt. Tibo-on. This is, or rather was, my private sanctum, and now it is stained by the sight of this handsome behemoth. Pvt. Colt's face had a look of concern but when our eyes met, he became poker-faced. David was carrying an enamel bowl of warm water and a sponge. The soldier's shirt was rolled up to his muscled arms wherein I realized how strong this hijo can be; the fabric was really tight around his arms! And from his arms I saw the bulging veins and tanned skin which made him more desirable. "Wh-why are you here David?? Y-you are not supposed to enter my room without, without...," I croaked. "and h-how did you managed to enter? H-how did you know that I have..." "This is no time to ask questions, sir. You have a very high fever and look awfully pale," Pvt. Colt cut me off. He approached my bed and sat on the adjacent rattan chair while resting the bowl on my writing table. I turned my weak head towards him and smiled. He smiled back, albeit fleetingly. He was quiet. The few seconds of silence between us was like an eternal abyss. "Gracias, hijo. Does Sgt. Tibo-on know you're here?," I said. "Yes, Lt. Ibarra. I told him about your condition and at first, he did not believe me. I insisted that you were not feeling well and you needed some sponge bath. I explained to him how this will help you, and in the end, he said yes. He said he will talk to Andres the Cook to make you some hot chicken porridge and to fetch some doctor from the next town," David spoke softly. My throat tightened, and my eyes blurred. Pvt. Colt must have seen me because his eyes shifted to the untouched bottle of aspirin. "You didn't drink your medicine, sir. Sgt. Tibo-on told me to look for your kit inside your trunk and I found these," he said softly, his thick hands grasped the bottle and jiggled its contents in front of me. He put down the bottle after taking out two white-colored pills which he placed beside my glass. His hands then gently submerged the sponge into the bowl and he took it out immediately wringing the extra water off. "Hijo, wh-why are you doing this?" I said weakly. "Because... who will back me up when you will hand me over to Gen. Miclat, Lt. Ibarra? I need you to corroborate my story," he replied as he unbuttoned my shirt exposing my sweat-covered torso. His face was impassive, but in a split second, I saw sadness in his eyes. "Is that all?" "Yes sir." His poker face was bereft of any emotion as he placed the warm sponge on my arms and shoulders and began to bathe it with warm water. ". . ." I grumbled at his answer, thinking there might be a more romantic angle to it. I can not believe how foolish I was to have amorous feelings for my enemy. I have condemned myself to hell for such a thought, but still, what was that I saw in his eyes? Such mixed signals can be utterly confusing! I must be on my guard. I must not fail Aguinaldo on my account. My eyes squinted at his handsome masculine face, his golden hair. I must have stared at his focused expression a bit too long that he looked at me with surprise. I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment. David smirked and gave out a low chuckle while continuing to wipe my brown chest with the wet sponge. His touch was gentle and sincere. His hands brushed on my stomach and went up again to my chest, caressing my nipples as he glided along my firm muscular grooves. My cheeks were livid as I was turned-on by his ministrations and my mahogany nipples became hard. "Hffft!" I sucked in. "Are you alright, Lt.?", he asked. "I'm alright. It's just the pain in my stomach." Pvt. Colt smirked some more. "That's because you did not touch your food. You better eat something first before taking your aspirin. My dad once told me that it makes your stomach hurt fierce if you take it on an empty stomach." His sponge traveled to my stomach leaving a wet sheen in its trail. He lifted my right arm and sponged my shoulders, my hands all the way to my armpits. I saw him breathed deeply as he brushed the dark-haired depression of my pits. Pvt. Colt took the sponge and rinsed it again in the bowl. He repeated this on my left arm and he asked me (in a patriarchal tone) to sit up so he can sponge my sweat-covered back. I felt so weak and sore from the illness that Pvt. Colt helped me to sit up, his strong muscled arms draped on my shoulders pulling me forward. "You have a nice back, Lt.," he chuckled. "All taut and defined." I was too embarrassed to react. He must have sensed this for he left out another chuckle. "Heh-heh-heh! I guess no one has yet complimented about your nice physique, Lt. Ibarra. Seeing yours makes me want to take you down and do you all over again!", Pvt. Colt hissed lustily. His hand laid the sponge down on the bowl, and with both hands, he explored my muscled back pressing on each bulge and crevice, his thumb traced the bumps of my spine, his fingers caressed my ribs. I felt his palm kneading the nape of my neck massaging my sore mucles. It felt fantastic, just like the time I was feted inside Doņa Victorina's brothel- the girl's hands massaged me for hours, her nubile fingers digging, mashing and rubbing my back with perfumed oil. "Ahhhh," I moaned. I know I was already burning with fever, but his ministrations were only making me hot. "Please David!" "Yeah? You want me to stop, Lt. Ibarra?", he mocked. "Ummm... No... I mean, yes... now... I do not like this when I'm...," I pleaded. "Vulnerable?" he sarcastically said. I was about to say "when I'm not feeling well," but the way he said it made it appear that I am weak and helpless. That is so false. Being sick naturally makes one vulnerable. "No. Just... just finish your sponge bath please. I want to rest afterwards." Pvt. Colt gave out a snort, mocking me for being so naīve. "Ok Lt., I have to sponge your legs and everything down there. Do you want me to unbutton your pants?" "No!" I said in such alarm that even I was startled by my reaction. "Sorry, I didn't mean to burst out like that. No, I'll do it. You already have so much to do. I don't want to impose on you further." I hurriedly unbuttoned my pants and shucked it off on the edge of the bed leaving me with nothing but my light cotton drawers. "Really Lt. Ibarra? Or are you just afraid I'll do something you'll enjoy?" "What?? David," I said in an exasperating tone, "after what you did to me, I think... I think... never mind! Just finish the bath and you can go." David sighed and proceeded to withdraw my shorts. My brown member was now exposed, limp and uninterested. I watched his eyes eat up the sight in front of him. I felt his eyes traveled from my dark curly pubic region down to my thick member down to my scrotum. David's face was contorted with lust, his mouth salivating, his throat bobbing up and down. "Anything wrong David?" I asked, a smile crept up my lips. "Nothing sir," he gulped. "I... I... umm... This is the first time I have seen a goo-goo penis up so close. It is so brown and... and... dark... just like a chocolate bar! It looks like a nigger's but slightly lighter in color. And your balls sir! They look like chocolate eggs!" I was incredulous. Here was a big Amerikano ogling at a native's penis while mocking it with racist remarks. I asked him pointedly, "Why David? Did you not have the time to enjoy looking at mine while you RAPED me?" I made sure to emphasize on the last part. He suddenly looked at me with a flash of anger. "No goo-goo face! That time t'was so dark that I did not see your ugly nigger cock, but in this light, I can well see how black and ugly it is! Probably uglier than a nigger's!" His voice was loud and full of venom. I blanched when he said it. It was a shock to hear such blatant remarks. My face must have been drained of blood for I felt a bit nauseous. I was terribly hurt- perhaps more hurt than angry. My mind could not process the possibility that David was merely being sarcastic. I clenched my fists, my knuckles went white and my lips quivered nervously. I was about to give David a piece of my mind but I decided not to press the issue further. I did not want to aggravate my illness. I needed my rest and anything more like this will surely extend my symptoms. I turned my head away from him and looked out on the window. David must have realized his sudden outburst for he became livid with embarrassment. He quickly sat on the bed near my shoulders and profusely apologized for his remarks. "SO SORRY Lt. Ibarra! I'M... I'M SO SORRY, I did not mean what I said just now. SO SORRY! Forgive me! IT WAS A JOKE, SIR!," David's voice was faltering. He was about to cry for I could hear him sniffling. "I APOLOGIZE, Sir! I won't make such a rude remark again! Please don't get angry with me!" I continued to stare at the leaves outside the window. The hurt did not go away, but a wave of indignation swept through me. Inside, I felt a volcano was about to erupt. In a hard voice I said, "Leave me be Pvt. Colt. I can finish sponging myself. Please leave." Pvt. Colt was now crying like a child. His cheeks were burning red and wet with tears. "Please Lt. Ibarra. I'm deeply sorry for having offended you. Please Sir, let me finish sponging you. I promise I'll do it good! Oh, man!" I realized he did not want to go. Nowhere was the cocky, haughty and confident soldier that was here a while ago. In its place was a sniffling whining child whose face was full of fear and remorse. My throat was still choked with indignation that I could not think straight. Suddenly, I snapped. "GET OUT! GET OUT! GET YOUR UGLY AMERIKANO FACE OUT OF MY HUT! IF I SEE AS MUCH AS YOUR HAIR AT THE DOOR, GOD FORGIVE ME, I'LL PERSONALLY SHOOT YOUR HEAD! " I shouted at the top of my lungs. David looked shell-shocked- his eyes widened, his jaw dropped and blood left his apologetic face. My voice must have gone beyond the confines of my hut because as soon I spoke the last syllable, I heard sound of running feet rushing towards my hut. David, not knowing what to do or say, quickly stood up, stared blankly for a half-second and rushed out of the hut, his feet making a huge noise on the bamboo floor as he ran away. In less than a minute, twenty of my men huddled outside my hut talking amongst themselves about my sudden outburst. They daren't go inside my hut. They fear me for they know (and have seen) how wicked I become once you get my goat. That is, everyone except for Sgt. Tibo-on. Sgt. Miguel Tibo-on is two years my senior, a very muscular and ruggedly handsome officer with deep bronzed skin whose torso tapers into a letter 'V' and whose head is shaved except for some hair which he let them fall on his forehead. He is a bit shorter than I am, but thrice as strong. Sgt. Tibo-on started fighting the Spanish in 1896 under Bonifacio, then the Americans in 1899 under Aguinaldo. All that training and discipline shaped him into a very desirable and valuable officer. If am the master tactician in this campaign, he is the oil that makes everything work smoothly. He is one of my best men who can control the behavior of every person in the camp. His presence alone dissolves any kind of chaos and it is place, pure martial order. No one below him can do anything without his knowledge and consent, and yet, all of my men love him. They see him as a fatherly figure who can protect them in times of need. Even I myself need his counsel and support from time to time. I see in him a brother I never had, and I believe his feelings for me are mutual. Whether he suspects I am deviant, I can never truly tell. At first he dissuaded me to let this Pvt. Colt to run free without any sentry guarding him, but because he respected me as his superior, he deferred to my order. Most importantly, he is the only one who is not afraid of me and who can talk sense into my head. Sgt. Tibo-on entered my hut and approached my bed. "Sir, is everything alright? We heard your screams all the way at the promontory," he said. "Yes, everything is fine sergeant. I just had some disagreements with Pvt. Colt," I stated flatly. "Ahhh yes, Pvt. Colt!," Sgt. Tibo-on said with a glint in his eyes, "Do not worry, sir! A couple of my men found him entering his hut. I placed two guards there to make sure he won't escape." He looked out of the window and continued, "He told me that he would like to give you a sponge bath since you felt sick since yesterday. I gave him my consent, which I now truly regret." "Don't be!" I sighed. "It is just there were some disagreements between me and David. He seemed, how shall I say it? Unpredictable." I looked at Sgt. Tibo-on's face and saw a look of concern much like that of an older brother to a younger brother in trouble. Sgt. Tibo-on spied the rattan chair and said, "May I?" while pointing to it. "Please, sit down. Don't be so formal with me Manual. It's just you, me, the men and the jungle," I said as I tried to put up a sincere smile for Sgt. Tibo-on. "Being sick with fever make men do the most stupid things." "So Ibarra," Sgt. Tibo-on said, comfortable with calling me by my last name since we both find my first name too tedious to say. "Has Pvt. Colt, umm.. David, been harassing you lately? You looked uptight whenever he is around." "No, I don't think so," I lied. "Please Ibarra. You know you can tell me anything. You have trusted me like a brother since the first time we've met. If you are worried that I will judge you, don't. I have seen a lot worse than you can imagine." I gave out a long drawn sigh. "You might as well know. David dug out some information from my past and he has been using this to blackmail me. But now, he said some things that should have been kept privately. After he said it, I lost my head." I cannot bring myself to divulge all the sexual liaisons David imposed on me. I do not think Sgt. Tibo-on will understand much less tolerate. "I see," Sgt. Tibo-on replied, still unconvinced. "How can something be so bad that he was able to blackmail you?" "..." "I may not understand it yet Ibarra, but I'd like you to know that I shall always be here as a friend and confidant. Listen, the men are waiting for Gen. Miclat's reply which is due to arrive today, so I have to be there to intercept it. The doctor shall arrive here soon, probably late afternoon if not, tonight. So it would be better if you rest, eat the chicken soup Andres is cooking for you and pray the rosary to clear your thoughts." "Thanks Miguel. You are like a brother I wish I had," I said. I think I said it too sincerely for I felt a tinge of red sneaking on my face. Sgt. Tibo-on's face lit up and smiled warmly at me. He wanted to say something, but stopped. He shook his head and smiled again. "Ok. I shall leave you now. Felipe and Carlos are there outside your hut if you need anything." He looked at me again and slowly stood up pushing away the chair behind him. "Miguel, can you take these away?" I said, my hands waved over the enamel pot and the floating sponge. "I don't need it now." "I see. Ahhh..." His eyes darted from the sponge and onto my shorts-covered groin. I had forgotten to pull up my pants! I think something clicked inside Miguel's head that he suddenly looked embarrassed and his face became red. I just wanted to die from the embarrassment right there. I turned my head towards the window and stared at the listless leaves outside. "I-I-I'll go now," he stammered. His eyes still lingered on my groin. I nodded. "G-gracias Miguel. Por favor, let me sleep," I sheepishly said. I'm embarrassed for not having the foresight to cover up the evidence. Now, Miguel must have connected a few more ideas than I was willing to give. Miguel stepped aside and walked towards the door. When he was halfway down the bamboo steps, he looked at me again, paused, and smirked with his tongue licking the top of his lips. I stared stupidly at him and I shuddered at the thought. To be continued shortly... *** Thanks so much for all those emailed me. Glad to help out. Please send all your comments and ideas to: *holyrambutan@gmail.com*. Sorry for all the typos & grammar errors. Thanks and enjoy the story.