By J. Irving ft. Generative Pre-trained Transformers

Many asked me, “Why just now? Why are you so passionate to recommend Boy Bolo for the Medal of Valor when the three-year prescription period has already lapsed?”

It was not an easy question to answer. Time has its way of dulling memories, but not the truth. The deeds of valor, no matter how long ago they were done, remain etched in the hearts of those who witnessed them. Some acts of heroism are so selfless, so pure, that they transcend the limits of regulation and time.

During the term of General Delfin Castro as Commander of SouthCom, two unforgettable events scarred and shaped the military landscape of that era: the Pata Island Massacre and the rescue of Bishop Escaler from the hands of the MNLF. I was involved in the first; Boy Bolo, in the second. Both incidents tested courage beyond measure. We were young officers then—driven by duty, not by desire for fame or medals. Recognition was the farthest thing from our minds. We were soldiers simply doing what must be done.

When I look back now, I realize that time did not erase the weight of what Boy Bolo accomplished. The rescue of Bishop Escaler and ten others—without a single casualty among the hostages or his troops—was an act of leadership, bravery, and precision that stands as a model of military heroism. Even General Castro considered Boy Bolo as lucky. It was courage guided by duty, compassion, and faith.

Why only now, then? Perhaps because only now, in the calm of later years, can one see clearly what the fog of youth once hid. In the rush of duty, we brushed aside recognition as something unnecessary, even embarrassing. But with age comes perspective. We have learned that remembering and honoring valor is not vanity—it is justice. It is an obligation to truth, and to the generations who must know what true service and sacrifice mean.

Boy Bolo never asked for honor. Like many of us, he did his duty quietly and moved on. But silence should not bury greatness. Even if rules of time have expired, moral duty has not. The Medal of Valor may be bound by regulation, but valor itself knows no prescription period.

As I now stand in the sunset of my years, I thank the Good Lord for keeping me alive to tell and write these two stories—the one of tragedy and the one of triumph. I do so not for myself, but for a comrade who carried the weight of courage with humility. Boy Bolo deserves the Medal of Valor not because of what he sought, but because of what he gave—his heart, his bravery, and his unyielding faith in his mission and men.

Some may ask again, “Why only now?”

Because now, more than ever, truth deserves its time.