I Was Once a Proud Son

I was only four back then but I knew there was something wrong. All the adult males of the family were away, from my dad up to his brothers and even his brothers-in-law. All, except my civilian Uncle and my Lolo, who were ushering me and the girls of the family towards the old house's basement. Outside, there were sounds of aircrafts and choppers buzzing around the perimeter and the occasional gunshots. Protests were everywhere on the radio and TV stations while my Auntie assured us that everything was alright... but my Lola was fervent on her knees, praying.

This was the situation during the 1986 EDSA Revolution on our familial home inside the Air Force camp of then Nichols Air Base (now Colonel Jesus Villamor Air Base).

The whole base was garrisoned as the soldiers themselves were unsure of where to put their loyalty between the warring factions. Should they remain on the iron grasp of the dictator or suffer the consequence... or should I say, fatal consequence... of upholding the call of democracy?

My dad had chosen the latter.

"Lu... lyu... lwu..."

I can barely even read his rank back then. Lieutenant. But I can already read my surname, and I knew upon reading my surname on the newspaper that it was talking about my father. It was on a picture's caption. The picture was of several Sikorsky S-76 helicopters bombing Malacañang Palace where the dictator and his cronies were staging a battle plan to liquify the personalities behind the revolt. I was aware that Daddy was on the cockpit of one of those gunships.

The last words I remembered my dad said to my lolo was, "Iluwas niyo ang mga bata sa Batangas." But we were trapped in Nichols, and all we have to hold on to was the hope that God has His special way of touching people's heart at His time. Thereafter, patriotism because of suppressed freedom spread like contagion and finally led to what was the most esteemed display of democracy in the world. Millions of people marched to EDSA despite threats against their lives.

Several hours later, the former president will be forced to fly to Hawaii.

My dad won.

The people won.

Democracy won.

One by one, the military men of the family returned home. And then, there was my dad. Clad on his sweat-damped, smelly flightsuit, but victory and pride have never smelled that sweet. He earned a medal and the rank of a "Captain" for that sortie but above all, he earned freedom and democracy. And none could have made the four-year old me even more proud.

A couple of years after that, me and my father dined with his friend in Hyatt. She said, "Wow, you should have been proud of what your dad accomplished."

I just smiled.

I thought to myself, "Yes, I was once a proud son."

*****

Taken from People Power - An Eyewitness History: The Philippine Revolution of 1986

On Monday, February 24th the turning point comes. Colonel Antonio Sotelo of the 15th Strike Wing has been ordered to attack Camp Crame using his squadron of attack helicopters. His squadron has more than enough fire power to completely obliterate Camp Crame. As Emmanuel Ridad writes:

"We heard the Sikorsky choppers fly over. It was time to join the others in the building's lobby. I was nervous. My arms were stiff. My hands were sweating. My lips were very dry.

...

With my Armalite aimed at one of the helicopters, I was now ready to die. I was just waiting for the whistling sound of the gunships' missiles and for the building to explode anytime.

But the helicopters did not open fire. Instead, they began to land!

Don't fire! They're defecting! They're ours! a jubilant General Ramos shouted."

And so they were. Colonel Sotelo and his entire command defected and put their helicopters at the disposal of General Ramos.

*****

Happy 20th Anniversary sa ESDA Revolution! At kahit nauwi lang sa wala ang paghihirap ng mga taong nagsakripisyo noon dahil napalitan lang ng mga bagong diktador ang gobyerno, mapalad pa din tayo dahil minsan sa ating nakaraan naipakita natin sa buong mundo ang totoong kahulugan ng demokrasya at kalayaan!

I Was Once a Proud Son

I was only four back then but I knew there was something wrong. All the adult males of the family were away, from my dad up to his brothers and even his brothers-in-law. All, except my civilian Uncle and my Lolo, who were ushering me and the girls of the family towards the old house's basement. Outside, there were sounds of aircrafts and choppers buzzing around the perimeter and the occasional gunshots. Protests were everywhere on the radio and TV stations while my Auntie assured us that everything was alright... but my Lola was fervent on her knees, praying.

This was the situation during the 1986 EDSA Revolution on our familial home inside the Air Force camp of then Nichols Air Base (now Colonel Jesus Villamor Air Base).

The whole base was garrisoned as the soldiers themselves were unsure of where to put their loyalty between the warring factions. Should they remain on the iron grasp of the dictator or suffer the consequence... or should I say, fatal consequence... of upholding the call of democracy?

My dad had chosen the latter.

"Lu... lyu... lwu..."

I can barely even read his rank back then. Lieutenant. But I can already read my surname, and I knew upon reading my surname on the newspaper that it was talking about my father. It was on a picture's caption. The picture was of several Sikorsky S-76 helicopters bombing Malacañang Palace where the dictator and his cronies were staging a battle plan to liquify the personalities behind the revolt. I was aware that Daddy was on the cockpit of one of those gunships.

The last words I remembered my dad said to my lolo was, "Iluwas niyo ang mga bata sa Batangas." But we were trapped in Nichols, and all we have to hold on to was the hope that God has His special way of touching people's heart at His time. Thereafter, patriotism because of suppressed freedom spread like contagion and finally led to what was the most esteemed display of democracy in the world. Millions of people marched to EDSA despite threats against their lives.

Several hours later, the former president will be forced to fly to Hawaii.

My dad won.

The people won.

Democracy won.

One by one, the military men of the family returned home. And then, there was my dad. Clad on his sweat-damped, smelly flightsuit, but victory and pride have never smelled that sweet. He earned a medal and the rank of a "Captain" for that sortie but above all, he earned freedom and democracy. And none could have made the four-year old me even more proud.

A couple of years after that, me and my father dined with his friend in Hyatt. She said, "Wow, you should have been proud of what your dad accomplished."

I just smiled.

I thought to myself, "Yes, I was once a proud son."

*****

Taken from People Power - An Eyewitness History: The Philippine Revolution of 1986

On Monday, February 24th the turning point comes. Colonel Antonio Sotelo of the 15th Strike Wing has been ordered to attack Camp Crame using his squadron of attack helicopters. His squadron has more than enough fire power to completely obliterate Camp Crame. As Emmanuel Ridad writes:

"We heard the Sikorsky choppers fly over. It was time to join the others in the building's lobby. I was nervous. My arms were stiff. My hands were sweating. My lips were very dry.

...

With my Armalite aimed at one of the helicopters, I was now ready to die. I was just waiting for the whistling sound of the gunships' missiles and for the building to explode anytime.

But the helicopters did not open fire. Instead, they began to land!

Don't fire! They're defecting! They're ours! a jubilant General Ramos shouted."

And so they were. Colonel Sotelo and his entire command defected and put their helicopters at the disposal of General Ramos.

*****

Happy 20th Anniversary sa ESDA Revolution! At kahit nauwi lang sa wala ang paghihirap ng mga taong nagsakripisyo noon dahil napalitan lang ng mga bagong diktador ang gobyerno, mapalad pa din tayo dahil minsan sa ating nakaraan naipakita natin sa buong mundo ang totoong kahulugan ng demokrasya at kalayaan!