"SOLDIERS! Get ready, we are arriving at Bulacan! Gear up!"
The officers' voices cut through the rhythmic clatter of the iron wheels, accompanied by sharp hand signals that rippled down the line of boxcars.
I saw Anya shift her weight, her eyes already locked on the door, while Pasco and Sanchez moved with a practiced, silent synchronization. "Pasco, just stay on the mahogany crates," I ordered, my voice low but firm. "Sanchez, help him with the heavy hauling. I want our supplies on the platform before the dust settles. Also sound the rest of the boys to assist you up."
The locomotive groaned, the screech of iron on iron vibrating through our boots as the iron beast finally hissed to a halt. As the heavy wooden doors slid open, a wall of humid heat and the smell of swamp water hit us. Not gonna lie, when I think of how Heneral Luna manage to get this trains, it was quite a negotiation, or the other way. And to add with, there are hundreds of men in Rayadillo pouring out of the train, their mismatched equipment clinking and clattering.
As I stepped onto the gravel, I paused. High above the station, the Sun and Stars of the Philippine flag snapped defiantly in the wind, a splash of blue, red, and white against a bruised horizon. It was a sight of immense pride, but the air here felt different than in Malolos. It smelled of wet earth and gun oil. Seems there must be trace of battles ahead.
While scanning the platform, my eyes caught a group of men standing apart from the rest. Their uniforms were a striking, deep indigo—a dark bluish hue that made our standard-issue Rayadillo look pale in comparison. They stood with a stillness that the raw recruits lacked, their rifles held with a casual, deadly familiarity.
"I wonder which section is that," I said, the thought slipping out loud.
"Well, if you want to know, those are the Marksmen of Death," a voice answered from my side. "Heard they were personally handpicked by General Luna himself. They say they can pluck the eyes off an American scout from five hundred yards. Or that's the legend, anyway."
I turned, slightly startled to find a soldier standing just a few feet away, leaning against a stack of crates.
"Sorry, didn't mean to jump you," the man said, offering a weary but professional smile. "I'm Kabo Perez." He extended a hand, and I took it. His grip was calloused and firm.
"Sarhento Valerian," I replied. "Specialized unit, then?"
"The best we've got," Perez nodded toward the indigo-clad sharpshooters. "They don't waste lead. Anyway, I've got to move—my Teniente is looking like he's about to have a stroke. Good luck out there, Sarhento."
He disappeared into the crowd before I could ask more. Well actually, I did expect that, since it's General Luna we're talking about. I can say he's actually quite a tactician.
Anya appeared at my shoulder a moment later, her face a mask of cold efficiency. "Sarhento, our men have finished hauling. The crates are secured and ready for transport. We received our orders to move. Awaiting your command."
I looked at my squad. They were tired from the sweltering train ride, but they were sharp. They looked like soldiers, not just men in uniforms.
"Alright then," I said, adjusting my belt. "We'll keep no one waiting. The faster the pace, the better we dig in. Move out!"
The march from the station was a grueling trek through the lowland heat. The Republican army moved in a massive, uneven column—a variety of paces and styles, from the disciplined stride of the regulars to the loose, swinging gait of the local militias. Despite the different officers and the clashing egos of the 'Politicos' back in the capital, here on the road to the trenches, there was a singular, terrifying shadow hanging over us all: General Antonio Luna. Every man marched a little straighter, knowing the "Iron General" didn't tolerate laggards.
By the time the sun hit its zenith, the sound of distant, rolling thunder began to echo from the north. But there wasn't a cloud in the sky.
"Artillery," Anya whispered, her eyes narrowing as she looked toward the horizon.
"Ours or theirs?" Roberto asked, his voice cracking slightly.
I looked at the mahogany crates being carried in the center of our formation—our secret insurance. "Doesn't matter. By the time we reach the sector, we'll be making our own noise."
"Oh since Mateo and Miguel are both from artillery team, do you honestly has the chance to man the artilleries?" Sanchez asked.
Mateo said. "Well it all start when the crew that were supposed to handle suddenly on sick, so the officers somehow called randomly and we are on that moments, were ordered to man the cannon, we tried at first, it was miss until the officers whacked us for that" Some laughed by it.
"What?? we first time use it anyway, so luckily we got the gist of it, and since then we are in charge of that gun, but sometimes, we didnt get the ammunitions, so it unusable. So we decide to change pace and requesting for transfer, until we are told to be at Sarge's section." Miguel explains.
"Hmm, thats unfortunate" I said.
~~
While at the station, amidst the frantic unloading of horses and field guns, Teniente Todri stood by a telegraph post, his face pale against the soot-stained air. An exhausted courier had just handed him a sealed envelope bearing the distinct, sharp wax seal of the General itself.
Todri scanned the parchment, his eyes widening as they hit the names written in bold, aggressive ink: Sarhento Valerian Osmeriana and Kabo Anya Mikhaela Reyes.
He swallowed hard, the paper trembling slightly in his hand. "Well... I'll be damned," he whispered to the empty air.
Without a word to his adjutant, Todri turned and began to weave through the columns of marching men, his pace a frantic stride that bordered on a run. He bypassed the supply wagons and pushed past the slow-moving militia until he spotted the disciplined, steady rhythm of my section.
"Valerian! Anya!" Todri's voice was strained, cutting through the heavy trudge of boots.
I raised a hand, signaling the squad to halt. The men shifted their weight, Pasco and Sanchez immediately forming a protective perimeter around our mahogany crates. Anya turned, her eyes sharp and questioning.
Todri reached us, out of breath, his uniform dampened by the humid heat. He didn't wait for a salute. He thrust the letter toward me, his gaze darting between Anya and myself with a look of genuine concern.
"Sarhento... tell me truthfully," Todri panted, wiping sweat from his brow. "Have either of you ever offended General Luna? Did you cross a line in Malolos? Did you disobey a direct command from the Commandancia?"
I looked at Anya. She remained as unreadable as a stone carving. I turned back to the Teniente. "Not to my knowledge, sir. We've kept our heads down and our rifles clean. Why?"
Todri gulped, his eyes fixed on the letter. "Because you will have to hold the order to advance. Not yet. This is a direct summons. The General seems to have eyes on you both. He has ordered both of you to report to his headquarters the moment we reach the designated command post."
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a cautious whisper. "In my opinion, Luna isn't the type of man who 'requests' meetings, Valerian. He either promotes men or puts them in front of a firing squad. And usually, he does it with the same expression on his face."
Sudden cold realization settled in my gut. I thought of the brass key in my pocket and the letter from Don Teodoro. I knew this was coming, but the speed of it caught me off guard. So the Don indeed sent the letters to General Luna, if my assumptions were right.
I took a slow breath and looked at the distant smoke rising from the Bulacan front lines.
"Well," I said, a grim smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. "That's a bit early."
Anya shifted her rifle strap, her gaze meeting mine. There was no fear in her eyes—only the cold, calculated readiness of a soldier about to walk into a different kind of ambush.
"Orders are orders, Sarhento," she said quietly.
"Indeed," I replied, turning back to the men. "Pasco! Tomas! come here.", both of them come as I yelled.
"Yes sarge" both replied in unison.
"Look, Anya and I now have matters to do, while we unavailable, I want you both to be in charge, so do what need to be done. Take the crates, carry with caution and guard it, make sure the others comply and I will not tolerate any theft and snatch incident, understand?" I added.
"Roger that, Sarhento." Both nodded and quickly order the rest to continue advance to the destination, leaving both of them with Teniente Todri.
"We're ready. Lead us to the General" I answered to Teniente Todri.
"Follow me." three of us, quickly pick up the pace.