Just like in the Ted Bundy (Serial Killer) confession, a mysterious force might have prevented the rebels from lifting their weapons…

https://youtu.be/phqDYbHY5f8

It is only after watching this video clip that without doubt, my survival from a vehicular ambush in Jolo, Sulu on the evening of 10 July 1981 (Friday) can be attributed to praying the ROSARY.

Accordingly, the survival rate for an ambush is nil and killing no one is improbable. Just look at what happened to 2LT Ruperto Naparan ‘79? I heard that his troop was on their way back to their camp, 4th Infantry Battalion Headquarters at the foot of Mount Tumatangis, by nighttime towards Tandiong when they were ambushed on board their vehicles. Nobody survived. All of them killed and their firearms taken . . .

Lieutenant Colonel (LTC) Ed Pangan ‘68 replaced Col Abraham Maghari, the OIC who took over from a LTC Sardual (Remember him?) He and 118 of his men were massacred by the MNLF at Pata Island. He was the battalion commander of 31st Infantry Battalion (31IB), which was based at Tagbak at the foot of Mount Bud Datu.

For my testimony, LTC Pangan and I were in Jolo town attending to an invitation of a friend; but with the intention of staying overnight in town, at his advance command post (ACP) inside the Division Headquarters in Camp Bautista; and to leave by daybreak the following day. The plan was not followed. We left at around 8 o’clock that night and when we were walking along the way towards our ride, my battalion commander told me that we would be going home, “Uwi tayo!” I pleaded with him that it is too dangerous! There was a scheduled cockfight coming over the weekend and the probability of being ambushed was too high! As former G2 (Intelligence), he knew this. Perhaps his hasty decision was being affected by the drink he had; and for me, it was a consolation that he would be with me during the trip. So, I told him, “Anyway, kasama naman po kayo!” I did not mention anymore that many wanted him dead and there were people who saw him already that he was in town that day.

Let me emphasize that ambuscades in Jolo are not really tactical maneuvers for a bigger end purpose of winning the war but a fund-raising scheme for producing “fast” money for satisfying their short needs, by easily selling the firearms they had recovered, they can immediately have gambling money; and if they lost, they will resort again on conducting ambuscades, repeating the cycle. So do not wonder if the tendency for unit commanders whenever there are encounters, they ask first, “Nakuha ba yun baril” (Were the rifles taken?); instead of asking, “Kumusta yun tao natin? Buhay ba o nasaktan sila? (How are our men? Did they survive or were they harmed?).

LTC Pangan boarded his jeep, a Kennedy type. The rest of us, seven to be exact and to include my new company Ex-O, 2LT Ernesto Albores who replaced 2LT Manny Gongora, went to the second jeep, a Toyota mini cruiser. My Ex-O sat in front beside me, between me and the driver. Four stayed at the back. LOCK AND LOAD! I got the M16 of the driver with a 30-round magazine. Our security ecort had an improvised 70-round magazine loaded in his M16 and 2LT Jimbo Ollero was holding his own cal.30 M1 Carbine, with a 30-round. I thought my mini cruiser would spearhead the convoy but the Kennedy jeep, with 5 passengers, darted ahead. At the crossing towards Tandiong and Tagbak, we turned left and from the asphalt road, we mounted a concrete cemented portion of the road at Kilometer #2. The Kennedy jeep turned off its headlights. We followed suit. The moon was bright. I can see the silhouette of the Kennedy jeep infront of us. I made the sign of the cross and started my rosary. I was in the first bead of the sorrowful mystery when a very long flashes of light at our left side began bursting intermittently. AMBUSH LEFT! The Kennedy jeep broke through the ambush zone and sped away. We were left behind, exactly inside the killing-zone. Perhaps, the enemy probably thought that LTC Pangan was on this jeep. We were able to return fire. I swung my rifle infront of 2LT Albores and the driver aligning the muzzle with the flashing lights. With one squeeze of the trigger, I emptied the 30-round magazine. Some empty shells from my armalite going inside the shirt breast pocket of 2LT Albores. I saw the windshield shattering in slow motion; and experiencing the saying, “before you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes”. I saw a glimpse of my mother reminding me to pray the Rosary. Then, our jeep swerved towards the direction of the ambushers. I fell or was I nudged by 2LT Albores to jump. I was able to distance myself away from the jeep. I ran straight, not zigzag because the shooters are coming from my left, as fast as I could, on top of the pavement, with my empty rifle, just like a moving target on a shooting gallery in a carnival. I could hear bullets whizzing from left to right passed by all over me. I remembered the ammo bandolier was left hanging at the backrest of the driver seat. I wish to throw away the rifle because this was the only thing they wanted; but I decided not – just to frustrate them. I did not know if I’m already dead and this was my soul running away from my body? How do I die? What is the feeling of death? Maybe not yet, I cannot see everything in top view position with my perspective floating away from the picture. Then my leg gave way. I rolled and fell off-road into the bushes, newly cut talahib grasses. Then suddenly, the driver crawled towards me. I was about to shoot him with my cal.32 pistol coming from my right pocket. He whispered that I have to take off my white T-shirt. I moved slowly and quietly removing my shirt. There was silence but I can hear my heart pounding, keeping my head on the ground, faced down, controlling my breathing. If I feel something from behind, I would shoot it immediately with my pistol and then shoot myself. I won’t be held captive and beheaded. My companion told me to run towards the detachment of the 18th Infantry Battalion (18IB), more than 100 meters away infront of us. I told him not to move because the friendly troops might be the one to shoot us. Troops from the detachment were also able to fire back towards the enemy during the exchange of gunfire. My driver and I could hear the enemy reloading their firearms. My driver said that they are about to burn the vehicle and awaiting to pour gasoline. The area became bright and they were searching. I froze. I was too afraid to move. Perhaps, the enemies were hesitant to approach us because it was the direction of the detachment …

Waiting for reinforcement from my battalion commander seemed like eternity. This is it! My end is near. My left leg was bleeding. I cannot fight back because I have no more ammo. I held on to my Rosary . . . my only refuge!

Then I heard voices, Ilocano voices, not Tausug. I recognized the voice. My Guardian Angel! 1LT Johnny Corcha ‘77, a highlander and a tribal leader of Igorots, was barking orders in a hushed tone, “Jai de banger!” (It means, “At the other side” in Ilocano). It was only at this time I raised my right arm, “Andito kami!” Soldiers picked us up. A ¼ ton truck arrived and we, all the seven of us, were brought to Camp Asturias Jolo Station Hospital for treatment.

My mistahs heard the news of the ongoing firefight from their respective radio rooms. 2LT Ricardo Pasamba, who belonged to 18IB, the guardian of Jolo Town, alerted his team and got ready to reenforce me . . .

At the hospital, my shrapnel wounds were treated without removing the metals inside my legs. All my wounded companion had leg wounds. The enemies hidden behind big boulders were aiming low, perhaps because of our returning fire. They were also seeking cover. Nobody died and no firearms were taken from us.

The following day, a mistah was confined at the hospital and his designated bed was the next one at my left. 2LT Rustico Francisco ‘80 was admitted for malaria. In fact the Falciparum type, the most dangerous form. Then, I felt safe and happy that a mistah was there at the hospital ward to sympathize with me . . .

After a couple of days at the hospital, I demanded to be released and continued my recuperation at the battalion headquarters. The battalion headquarters was located along the way in going to the 1/3 Brigade Headquarters, which is located on top of Bud Datu, where the homebase of the legendary battle-hardened COL RODOLFO CANIESO ‘56 was entrenched.

So one time, Col Canieso dropped by to see LTC Ed Pangan. In front of my battalion commander, he asked me in jest, “Man, meron ka bang anting-anting?” (Man, do you have an amulet?) This was because he knew no one else ever survived ambuscades in Jolo.

When asked about the amulet, I only smiled while I held into my Rosary in my right-side pocket, without taking it out or showing it to him …

PRAY THE ROSARY!