The End of the War

Abstract

It was a fine Sunday morning and the First Filipino Infantry was very quiet. Private Pascual Fidel, who was small even for a Filipino, opened his eyes and kicked the thick army blankets off his body. His right hand reached for the shiny harmonica which was on the floor beside a pair of clean boots. He rubbed his eyes slowly and then began humming “Amor, Amor, Amor,” which he had heard on the radio some nights before. He tapped the harmonica on his knee, out of habit, put it in his mouth, and fumbled for the first note. Suddenly his hands stopped and he jumped up and ran around the room from cot to cot, looking, but his comrades had already left. With nothing on but his undershorts, he rushed through the door of the barracks and out into the bright sunlight, screaming for his cousin, “Pitong! Sergeant Pitong Tongkol!” Sergeant Tongkol, who was in the same company of the First Filipino Infantry, stood watching three men planting poppies in a vacant space nearby. He looked up and saw Private Fidel running toward him. Anxious to know what it was all about, Sergeant Tongkol started to meet his cousin. They met in front of the mess hall, where most of the soldiers were now assembled.