Demystifying Plebehood: My Fondest Memories of Being a Dumb Guard (Part 2)

So there I was with my newfound friends, all dumb (no pun intended), all confused. Except for the turn(ed)- back (repeaters?) cadets who seemed to know their way around, we fumbled in almost everything we did. There was of course acclimatization -getting used to Baguio weather as quickly as we can. We started with army dozens- a bunch of physical conditioning exercises, followed by up and down the road runs. Some of us were physically- gifted and naturally stronger than the others. Some who anticipated everything, took extra effort and prepared themselves physically before entering the PMA. And of course there were plebes like me who just got there without so much idea of what was forthcoming.

I neither lagged behind nor got ahead in any of these activities especially during runs. I was always in the middle of the pack. Early on, I realized that in order to survive that period, nobody should take so much interest on you. If you were (super) strong or (super) weak, you would easily be under the eagle eyes of everyone especially the yearlings. If you are so intelligent and outspoken, and you can't hold your horses, you'll surely end up doing something else while everyone is already snoring. If you pretend to be really dumb, you will have your share of extra viand. No, not the ulam!

I also realized that the morning rituals-the army dozens and runs were not just about developing plebes physically. It was about inculcating different values to us such as the essence of being a follower first, the importance of obeying legal orders, the virtue of loyalty among others. It was not just about preparing us physically for more challenging tasks ahead but it was also about teaching us to accept the rigors of military life. Waking up at about 3 or 4 on a very cold morning was one of the most difficult adjustments all of us had to do. It took me a couple of weeks to synchronize my body clock with that of the academy, having been used to doing things at my own pace. My fellow plebes shared the same sentiment. Others were even close to resigning (quitting) simply because they hated waking up early. We were advised not to fight it but instead, to discipline our body to cope with the demands of the training. That's exactly what we did to survive.

Back in college, I joined the NCO Corps of the ROTC. It was a sort of personal crusade on my part to pursue soldiery in whatever form. I do not recall why I did not join the Vanguards even though they also had certain benefits such as discounts in tuition fee, and beautiful sponsors. Maybe it was because my friends back then were not really into it. Soldiery wasn’t exactly the most popular profession in the campus. Actually, most of the students I knew then despised the course not only because it disturbed their precious Sundays but because they thought it was corny and useless. They also hated being bullied or being shouted at by other students especially those they thought were inferior to them intellectually.

My ROTC experience wasn’t of much help. Indeed, no amount of preparation- be it physical, mental or emotional, will ever suffice to survive the beast barracks. Yes that’s exactly how they called it then. That’s how we still call it now although there are other lighter, friendlier terms like “summer camp”. But that’s exactly what it says. You become a beast –in a positive way. Summer camp drives you to the boundaries of your physical and mental capacities. It could bring out the best and the worst in a person. When a person is driven to the limits of his being, his true color comes out. That’s what the beast barracks wants- to expose a plebe’s weaknesses and develop his strengths. The camp gradually hammers each plebe into a better individual by subjecting him under intense heat and pressure, so that he will have the physical and morale courage to be expected and demanded from him in the future. The process is a slow but eventually, the plebe forgets about his civilian antics and becomes a renewed person. This is the foundation of soldiery. This is where all aspiring Cavaliers begin.

The summer camp continued until June of 2002. We learned the basics of soldiery through a basic military training. Our days went like this: Reveille was at 3 or 4 in the morning. Upon waking up, we would fix our bunks to look like nobody slept on it at all, and polish the area so that not a single infraction is visible to the Tactical Officers and upperclassmen’s scrutinizing eyes. Then we would have series of physical fitness activities including road runs (taebo was not yet popular then). After that we ate our breakfast but not before a very lengthy accounting procedure. Then we would have our class or training. During lulls in classes, we did exercises (mase- mase) to keep us awake. Before mess time, we would have another round of mase- mase. Lunch is not what it is though the food had always been sumptuous and abundant. We only had our meal once we were able to comply with orders or recite the menu or the complete names of the senior cadets’ names (including the names of their parents, addresses, birthdays and what-have-you). We also recited lengthy, wordy and confusing Plebe Knowledges which all sounded like tongue twisters. My memory was pretty sharp back then so I could easily blabber out poems like Loyalty, Beyond Forgetting, My Mistaken Ecstasy, Desiderata, How’s the Yearling or Cow, Don’t Quit and How Many Days. And who would ever forget the perpetual Do You Have a Sister and Are You Resigning. Mase- mase resumed after lunch and before the start of the afternoon’s class- proving that “jumping or running immediately after eating would cause appendicitis” was just a myth. After class, we were taught how to march properly, handle basic firearms, do manual of arms, and then some more marching and drills. We did a lot of long marches, bivouacs, firing, rappelling, mountaineering and more mase- mase.

Dinner time or evening mess is just like breakfast and lunch except for the menu. Comply first before eating. Earn your bread. Be worthy of a drink. Condiments like soy sauce and vinegar were off- limits to dumb guards. It was a privilege enjoyed only after recognition.

Once in a while, our squad leader would bring us down the so called Flirtation Walk, facing the Mt. Sto. Tomas, to pray and meditate. He would counsel us and inquire about our problems and concerns. Then, mase- mase again before returning to the barracks to fix and fix and fix and fix until there’s nothing to be fixed. Alas, we never ran out of something to fix. Everything seemed not to meet the standard of our squad leader and buddy.

Our life went on like that for two months. Our battalion commander would always remind us to simply live one day at time. Everything will end at the right time. Don’t quit. Don’t resign he said.

 I almost thought of resigning in the middle of summer camp when I got sick. At first I thought it was just ordinary cough and colds but after a few days of just ignoring it, my squad leader instructed me to seek medical attention. I was immediately brought to the PMA Station Hospital where I was diagnosed with Pneumonia. It was a common illness among us plebes. It might have been because we were not yet used to the cold weather, and we usually slept with sweaty shirts. I stayed in the hospital for more than a week and I thought I was going to be discharged or put on a sick leave. Fortunately, I was able to recover and rejoin the training in time.

We were finally incorporated into the regular corps in June 2002 ending the two-month beast barracks. 

Demystifying Plebehood: My Fondest Memories of Being a Dumb Guard (Part 1)

Last September 13, the 319 members of PMA “Alab-Tala” Class of 2018 were recognized as the newest members of the Cadet Corps Armed Forces of the Philippines (CCAFP). The Chief of Staff AFP, Gen. Gregorio Pio Catapang Jr. himself, was the Guest of Honor and Speaker of the solemn but memorable rites at the Borromeo Field.

PMA Recognition Day (Courtesy: pma.ph)

The ceremony signaled their transition from being “Fourthclassman Dugumon” to Cadet 4^th Class Dugumon. So what’s the difference? Before I answer that, let me first walk you through plebehood from my own experiences, from my own perspective. I will try not to consult any reference in writing this piece. I will rely solely on my memory and I will try to remember as much as I can on how I survived my so called ‘freshman’ year in PMA.

Flashback 2001 

I entered the University of Loakan (PMA) on 01 April 2002. For most of us, April 1 is April Fool’s Day but for those who came from the “land of kings where everyone can do what he wishes (and) hiked the plains of Luzon and hurdled the mountains of Baguio”, the first day of April is Reception Day- the most difficult part of a cadet's life.

 I was a struggling college student in Manila when I received a letter from the PMA telling me that I passed the entrance exams. I took the said exams at the Ramon Magsaysay High School in Cubao Quezon City. Actually, I almost did not make it to the examination center because I was practically late after I went to the wrong Magsaysay High School (somewhere in Manila). Anyway, I got the letter which told me to undergo the physical and medical examinations at the AFP Medical Center. My parents did not yet know what I was doing as I purposely did not tell anybody that I took the written exams. I told myself that if I failed it, nobody would have known so it wouldn’t be that embarrassing. Fortunately, I made it so off I went to V. Luna where I stayed for a couple of days for the series of tests. I wasn’t really sure if I was going to make it. I just told myself to try it and give my best. If I made it, well and good but if I failed, I’ll just finish my degree. I didn’t know anything about background investigations and that it was being conducted on all applicants. My parents would tell me later how nervous they were when ‘some guys’ started asking about me back in the province. They thought I was in trouble with the law or something. Why else would military and police elements be looking for me in the province while I was in Manila?

As fate would have it, I made it together with 460 something hopefuls (now I can’t recall how many exactly we were). As matter of precaution, I filed a leave of absence from my school (a back- up plan just in case). I was about to make a decision that would forever change my life.

2002: taking the road less traveled

On March 31 of 2002, after finally deciding I really wanted to be a soldier, I reported to V. Luna again to board buses that would take us to the mountains of Baguio- the City of Pines. A fraternity brod was kind enough to treat me for breakfast at McDonalds and bring me to V. Luna. I was wearing a black corduroy pants, a shirt and a pair of vintage Adidas rubber shoes (one which I wore since high school). I did not have any idea of the reception, thinking all the while that it was just another freshman orientation like those in universities. Thus, I was surprised that others were just clad in jogging pants and light shirts as if they were going on a morning jog. I would find out later how dumb I was to have that kind of attire after the cadets started yelling at us to do this and that.

Parents, relatives, girlfriends/ boyfriends and other people were there to bid their beloved would-be cadets goodbye. Some brought food but I guess most of us were just too anxious to eat. I had nobody to see me off that time so I silently waited for the instructions to board the buses that would take us to our destiny.  I barely slept along the way, pondering what awaited us once we got there. Besides, it was my first time to travel to Baguio. Metro Manila was the farthest place from Bicol I’ve ever been to.

www.pma.ph

We reached PMA early in the morning of April 1 and we were joined by other incoming freshies who were from Baguio and nearby provinces. We had a simple breakfast of hard- boiled egg, hotdog and rice which we were advised to consume or else we would regret it. After the reception, I realized why they ‘forced’ us to eat.

We were then ushered to a building which looked like classrooms. There, we filled out some documents and we were given a sort of orientation. It was like enrolling yourself in college minus the chaos and the long lines. It was a very orderly procedure but all of us were nervous. We started talking to know each other just to break the ice and somehow ease the anxiety that was already engulfing us. After lunch, we were instructed to form outside the building (which turned out to be the Melchor Hall) as we prepared to march off towards the reception area. When we were finally arranged accordingly, the band started playing a variety of military tunes signaling the start of the ceremony. We marched towards the parade ground as I began to have goose bumps all over my body. I secretly smiled to myself: “At last, I am here”.

The Reception

Courtesy: flckr.com

When we finally reached the parade grounds, I could see a multitude of people at the grandstand but I couldn’t hear their voices. My heart bit so fast I thought I could hear it. I tried, but with little success, to calm down my nerves and to just focus on what’s going on. I did not understand a single word the speakers said and except for the National Anthem, I don’t recall any other part of the program that hot afternoon. I think somebody shouted something, sort of a command, and before I knew it, everybody was already shouting at us. Everyone was looking for somebody as the freshies (that’s us) started running, jumping, rolling, jogging and shouting. At first nobody seemed to have an interest on me so I just joined the crowd and did what everyone was doing. After a while, a very angry- looking face was already in front of me shouting and calling out my surname. This time, I joined a separate group and started following them around shouting, tumbling, jumping and so on. Everywhere I looked, all I saw was men and women doing what my new group was doing, and shouting was everywhere. We were all already panting and grasping for air. I saw someone collapsed while others vomited but I was just too exhausted to give them a second look. 

Amidst the chaos silently prayed I would make it that day.

Courtesy: youtube.com

I do not know long the entire ceremony lasted. I have lost track of time until I heard a bugle sound that must have signaled the end of the seemingly endless punishment. We went back to formation and then off we went to the barber shop. We sat there all sweaty and tired but upbeat at the same time. The barber did not care to ask us what kind of haircut we wanted, and it was over in just a minute or two. After our turn, we regrouped then jogged around shouting and chanting whatever our leader told us. He would tell us later that he was Cadet L.J., a 3^rd Class Cadet or 2^nd year, and that he was going to be our buddy. Later that day, we met our would- be Squad Leader, Cadet S.P., a 2^nd Class Cadet or 3^rd year cadet.

First things first

Everybody seemed to be in a hurry. After the trip to the barber shop, we went to a gym-like building where we got our individual duffel bags. It had everything we needed from head to toe- different sets of uniforms, shoes, toiletries etc. We hurriedly changed into our first ever-uniform, the battle dress attire (civilians simply called this camouflage). I felt like a real soldier for the first time after shedding off my beloved corduroy and Adidas (I would get them later after we were recognized). We were all fumbling as we fitted in our BDAs and combat boots while our buddy was either counting or howling orders to us.

We were then brought to the canteen, I mean, the Mess Hall, to eat, but alas, we didn’t. I don’t recall what our first meal in the mess hall was but it must have surely had rice in it. We swallowed and swallowed whatever was given to us. We were dead tired and did not care how the food tasted at all. Good thing they did not deprive us of drinking water- it was even overflowing.

After that ‘sumptuous’ meal, we went back to the gym which was proclaimed as our barracks. We were quickly taught how to fix our bunks- our beds, and how to arrange our things as fast we can. We did not ask any questions. We just followed every instruction. We were all confused. “Fix this, fix that; do this, do that. Silence! Do not talk to anyone in front of me without my permission? No conniving! Ask permission before making any sound or statement!” That’s how it went all night until bugle sound was heard. Lights were immediately turned off signaling it was time to sleep. It was our first night there. I rested on my bed, silently prayed and before I knew it, I was asleep.