had simply grown quiet, as if he were deep in thought.
Cervante ground out his own cigarette as Kawnlo finally spoke.
“This high-power microwave weapon is very interesting.” Kawnlo spoke low so that Cervante had to strain to hear him.
Cervante leaned forward and said, “But from the manuals I do not see much use for it. Clearing mine fields, disrupting communications—the only reason I can think the Americans gave the device to the Philippine Constabulary was that its uses are limited. The Americans are even stingy to their own allies,” he said bitterly. “At least the extra supplies will enable us to equip more men. The resistance in the countryside will grow.”
Kawnlo drew in a lungful of smoke. “Sometimes the obvious answer is the hardest to see.” He stared straight at Cervante.
Cervante glanced at his watch. Eight minutes. The next flight to Manila was not until tomorrow. He began to grow irritated. “Teacher, you speak the truth, but I do not have the time for games. Is there something I must take back to my people? Are you not pleased with the way I am running the resistance movement?”
“I am very pleased. You have excelled as a student, and you are ahead of your goals in helping the New People’s Army establish a foothold throughout the countryside.” He nodded. “Yes, you have made considerable progress and have fared well after your training. But the obvious point is what you should do next. There is a time to reconsider your goals, the purpose in what you set out to do. And if the goals change, then you must grasp the moment—seize the day.” He smiled slightly, as if bemused.
Cervante shivered, thinking of the cold training camp Kawnlo had headed up. “So I must reconsider my goals? Freeing the Filipino people from their shackles to the rich, the government—am I not succeeding?”
“But now you have the chance to leap ahead. The ammunition and supplies you captured: Instead of enlisting more people, more children to randomly attack your constabulary, why not use what assets you have? Now you are like angry bees attacking a lumbering elephant. This high-power microwave weapon can make you a tiger.
“Use the supplies to fortify yourself, and use the microwave device to directly attack the Satan that fuels your hatred.”
“The Americans…?”
Kawnlo stood. “I am sure that you can think of the appropriate measures to take. Doing so will elevate the stakes, and you must determine if it is worth it.” He smiled. “A teacher can only point the way—it is the student who must climb the mountain.”
Cervante followed him out of the coffee shop. They were immediately swept along with the crowd. Just before reaching security, they stopped.
“Six months from this day. Singapore.”
Cervante nodded as Kawnlo turned away. Cervante trailed behind him, pushing toward security.
As Cervante followed Kawnlo through the metal-detector, he ignored the bank of video cameras that scanned the crowd.
***
Chapter 4
Monday, 4 June
Clark AB
Zero-dark early: two hours before wheels up.
Bruce blew on his coffee and took another small sip, trying to stay awake. Maps covered the walls of the 3rd ACC Fighter Wing briefing room. Lines and circles made the charts look like a jumble of confusion; the air routes, bombing ranges, restricted areas, and flight patterns were all displayed in a fashion coherent only to an experienced pilot.
The eight pilots and backseaters comprising Maddog Flight surrounded a table, marking out their strategy for the day’s bombing run. A bombing run without bombs, that is—the mission was merely to familiarize the crews with the idiosyncrasies of Crow Valley, the bombing range fifteen miles to the west of Clark.
Once an area dotted with rice paddies, Crow Valley was part of the land thrown in when the Philippine government leased Clark and Subic back to the United States. The valley was now a restricted area, for use by Air Force and Navy pilots to practice
Cervante ground out his own cigarette as Kawnlo finally spoke.
“This high-power microwave weapon is very interesting.” Kawnlo spoke low so that Cervante had to strain to hear him.
Cervante leaned forward and said, “But from the manuals I do not see much use for it. Clearing mine fields, disrupting communications—the only reason I can think the Americans gave the device to the Philippine Constabulary was that its uses are limited. The Americans are even stingy to their own allies,” he said bitterly. “At least the extra supplies will enable us to equip more men. The resistance in the countryside will grow.”
Kawnlo drew in a lungful of smoke. “Sometimes the obvious answer is the hardest to see.” He stared straight at Cervante.
Cervante glanced at his watch. Eight minutes. The next flight to Manila was not until tomorrow. He began to grow irritated. “Teacher, you speak the truth, but I do not have the time for games. Is there something I must take back to my people? Are you not pleased with the way I am running the resistance movement?”
“I am very pleased. You have excelled as a student, and you are ahead of your goals in helping the New People’s Army establish a foothold throughout the countryside.” He nodded. “Yes, you have made considerable progress and have fared well after your training. But the obvious point is what you should do next. There is a time to reconsider your goals, the purpose in what you set out to do. And if the goals change, then you must grasp the moment—seize the day.” He smiled slightly, as if bemused.
Cervante shivered, thinking of the cold training camp Kawnlo had headed up. “So I must reconsider my goals? Freeing the Filipino people from their shackles to the rich, the government—am I not succeeding?”
“But now you have the chance to leap ahead. The ammunition and supplies you captured: Instead of enlisting more people, more children to randomly attack your constabulary, why not use what assets you have? Now you are like angry bees attacking a lumbering elephant. This high-power microwave weapon can make you a tiger.
“Use the supplies to fortify yourself, and use the microwave device to directly attack the Satan that fuels your hatred.”
“The Americans…?”
Kawnlo stood. “I am sure that you can think of the appropriate measures to take. Doing so will elevate the stakes, and you must determine if it is worth it.” He smiled. “A teacher can only point the way—it is the student who must climb the mountain.”
Cervante followed him out of the coffee shop. They were immediately swept along with the crowd. Just before reaching security, they stopped.
“Six months from this day. Singapore.”
Cervante nodded as Kawnlo turned away. Cervante trailed behind him, pushing toward security.
As Cervante followed Kawnlo through the metal-detector, he ignored the bank of video cameras that scanned the crowd.
***
Chapter 4
Monday, 4 June
Clark AB
Zero-dark early: two hours before wheels up.
Bruce blew on his coffee and took another small sip, trying to stay awake. Maps covered the walls of the 3rd ACC Fighter Wing briefing room. Lines and circles made the charts look like a jumble of confusion; the air routes, bombing ranges, restricted areas, and flight patterns were all displayed in a fashion coherent only to an experienced pilot.
The eight pilots and backseaters comprising Maddog Flight surrounded a table, marking out their strategy for the day’s bombing run. A bombing run without bombs, that is—the mission was merely to familiarize the crews with the idiosyncrasies of Crow Valley, the bombing range fifteen miles to the west of Clark.
Once an area dotted with rice paddies, Crow Valley was part of the land thrown in when the Philippine government leased Clark and Subic back to the United States. The valley was now a restricted area, for use by Air Force and Navy pilots to practice
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