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Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Email required Address never made public. The smell of the green paddy fields was so fresh and mint suggesting that Ceres, the goddess of Agriculture, was just peeping around the corner. The debacle that befell us prodded our other brother, Manong Ado 1Lt. This is a stanza from a song of the Status Quo band that never fails to give me a nostalgic feeling. Flashed before my young mind were pictures — some bleary, others distinct. You are commenting using your Facebook account. We then became hopeful.

Another one bared a shirtless man lying down on a bamboo floor reading a tattered, dilapidated Bible while listening to an FM-tuned in radio. Sorry, your blog cannot share posts by email. Evelyn Quinlog Dumaguit December 30, at 5: My brother Celso, whom we fondly called Manong Ondoy and who had only been a few months a soldier, in his twenties, and well-made for military service, was one of those ambushed by the MILF rebels in Agusan del Sur. Around or , Manong Ado was assigned in Basilan. The smell of the green paddy fields was so fresh and mint suggesting that Ceres, the goddess of Agriculture, was just peeping around the corner.

It was our longest night ever. Flashed before my young mind were pictures — some bleary, others distinct. Most say that nothing hurts parents more than burying their children before them.

Leave a Reply Cancel reply Enter your comment here My brother Celso, whom we fondly called Manong Handdumanan and who had only been a few months a soldier, in his twenties, and well-made for military service, was one of those ambushed by the MILF rebels in Agusan del Sur.

He was not dead, but he was missing in action.

Email required Address never made public. The recent Basilan clash that killed 19 soldiers with 12 others reported wounded has reopened old wounds.

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Sorry, your blog cannot share posts by email. You are commenting using your Facebook account. It was generally a hushed night. The most distinct picture of all was that of a man braving the raging flood, carrying his youngest sister on his back, with the rest of his siblings tagging along in an attempt to handmanan from the swelling river.

Stars were giving off a luminous amount of light forming, as moments passed, discernible constellations shining upon that distant and isolated knoll. My heart goes out to our jauary soldiers who have given all.

The night was very calm and still. When this went futile, he resorted to consulting a number of fortune tellers, only swit be bombarded with lies. You are commenting using your Twitter account. Fill handumaanan your details below or click an icon to log in: Evelyn Quinlog Dumaguit December 30, at 5: A chilling sight to see so many hearses.

We then became hopeful. Notify me of new comments via email. The reason — my brother was one of the 27 Marines who died from an encounter with the MILF rebels, leaving behind a wife and a two-year old son.

Then, a procession of hearses come driving by onto aqit gymnasium, carrying the caskets of the slain Marines. It may not be enough consolation, but it would always remind us that there is life in death. Today, 20 years later, the story repeats.

They may not be in the army now, my brothers included, but the reality that they died with their boots on remains indelibly etched in the pages of history. For a third grader, not much was remembered.

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To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Post was not sent – check your email addresses! He was positive that once a Marine, he could have januay influence and power advantageous in locating our missing brother.

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The croaking of the frogs in the surrounding vast rice fields seemed to compete joyfully with the serenade of the strolling crickets. Around orManong Ado was assigned in Basilan. This site uses cookies.

To all the family members of the slain soldiers, I share your pain. This is a stanza from a song of the Status Quo band that never fails to give me a nostalgic feeling. The smell of the green paddy fields was so fresh and mint suggesting that Ceres, the goddess of Agriculture, was just peeping around the corner.

The debacle that befell us prodded our other brother, Manong Ado 1Lt. Another one bared a shirtless man lying down on a bamboo floor reading a tattered, dilapidated Bible while listening to an FM-tuned in radio.

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But those few memories of Manong Ondoy were so indelible, enough to take me back to the harsh reality of that moment. Your brother would have been there. Until a handumann relative living in the town came home panting and dropped a bombshell on us.