Republic Reborn: Against the Stars and Stripes-Chapter 60: Decisively

Last Saturday, the first shots had been fired. And just yesterday, a ferocious battle erupted in Manila as the Americans pushed outward against the entrenched Filipino forces surrounding the city. Señor Alcantara didn’t have all the details, but word on the street before he left for Marinduque was that the Republicans had been driven out of their positions, suffering hundreds of casualties.

I had Señor Alcantara break the news at the conference the following afternoon, with all officers present—including the cadets and the NCOs in charge of training.

It shouldn’t have surprised me. I had always known it was only a matter of time before things took a sour turn. Yet it still did. The training had barely begun. Now I couldn’t help but wonder if I could field a ready force in time—or if the Republic would fall before I could do anything at all.

But I had learned over a lifetime that doubt only leads to indecision, and indecision makes you lose battles you haven’t even fought yet.

If anything, this was the time to act more swiftly and decisively.

I laid pieces of fabric on the table, while silence and a grim mood settled over the conference room. Isabela, with the help of her aunts and nieces, had finished what I asked of her in a matter of days. I hadn’t thought I would be using them this early, having planned to take them out two or three weeks later.

One by one, heads turned as the officers slowly recognized what they were. The embroidery on the straps glistened under the candlelight.

I had tasked Isabela with creating the officers’ shoulder straps. I consulted Dimalanta for the design, and as it turned out, the patches for Second Lieutenant up to Coronel only required an increasing number of silver and golden stars.

Most of the patches were red—the same color as the ones on my own shoulders, signifying infantry. But a pair of black patches stood out from the lineup. The navy of the Republic was almost non-existent, and Luna had yet to come up with naval insignias. So, I decided to create my own.

"Most of you would not know Señor Alcantara," I broke the silence, "but he owns and operates a steamship... a vessel that he has now offered to the service of the Republic."

I smiled as I saw the mood shift quickly inside the room. Señor Alcantara, seated across from Colonel Abad near the head of the table, perked up at the mention of his name. He returned the smiles and nods headed his way.

Vicente, taking my cue, stood up from his seat and walked forward with a folded uniform in his hands.

"That makes him the founding officer of the navy under my command," I continued. "And as such, I intend to give him the appropriate rank."

"Señor Alcantara, step forward and stand at attention in front of me," I instructed, snatching the uniform from Vicente’s hands. "I ask that you wear this."

The ship captain’s expression turned serious, and he promptly stepped away from the table.

He took the uniform from my hands and put it on. It was snug on him, and I noted that he’d need a larger jacket.

I took the pair of black patches from the table—each featuring a single silver star, the same embroidery used by an infantry captain. I had opted for a simple design, adapting naval ranks directly from their infantry counterparts.

"As Heneral de Brigada, and the one in charge of the Distrito Militar de Marinduque, Mindoro y Romblon..." I began, fixing one of the patches onto his right shoulder, "I hereby confer upon you the rank of Teniente de Navio of the Philippine Republican Navy."

He couldn’t keep his solemn expression and grinned in excitement.

"Thank you... Heneral," he said once I had finished installing both patches.

He extended a hand instead of saluting. I decided to take it. Señor Alcantara and his crew had yet to receive their training—which I looked forward to. Though I was an infantry officer in my past life, I had little idea how to train naval officers.

I then turned to the remaining senior officers at the table. I had long been put off by the bareness of their shoulders—but no longer.

I picked up the remaining patches and waved them in the air. "I believe you gentlemen have been officers long enough without proper rank patches. Tonight, you will have them."

"We must look like a proper army... even if it’s only in appearance for now," I added. "Tomorrow... it all begins."

---

The two soldiers at the door stood at attention as I approached. I recognized them both—men from my escolta, as were most of the guards stationed around the Casa Real. I couldn’t help but recall the great hike we took from Caloocan to Cavite.

What a hellish journey that was. But I would rather endure that again than face what awaited me behind the door.

Military training and instruction was exhausting, but it was like being a fish in water for me. Politics, on the other hand... I still couldn’t get used to.

I let out a heavy sigh.

"Should I open it for you, Heneral?" Teniente Dimalanta asked from behind. I wanted the two lieutenants to accompany me inside, to make my entrance appear more official.

"No," I said, then sighed again.

I buttoned my cuffs, adjusted my rayadillo jacket, and pushed the conference room door open. Hushed conversations greeted me—like the distant hum of a swarm of bees.

The long table at the center was crowded. Nearly all the prominent figures of Boac were present.

My stomach tightened at the sight of hostile faces—friends turned foes. It was easy to spot them; they had clumped together at the far end of the table. I was facing a coalition.

But I found comfort in the presence of Colonel Abad, Señor Alcantara, and two other senior officers seated near the head. At the sight of me, they stood up. My allies in the principalia soon followed. The other half of the table rose reluctantly, some grumbling under their breath.

"Be seated, caballeros..." I said as I took my seat at the head.

Even before everyone had settled, Don Contreras launched into a tirade. "This isn’t the front lines, but there are too many armed soldiers in the vicinity. It makes us uncomfortable. Makes us think they’re there for... for a purpose."

I knew what he was talking about. Outside in the plaza, the recruits with rifles stood in formation. My 25-man escort was fully deployed—roadblocks had been set up around the Casa Real, with every entrance covered.

"What purpose do you mean, Don Contreras?" I asked, an amused smirk on my lips. "They’re here for security—especially with all the big names present today. And you shouldn’t feel uncomfortable. They are soldiers of your country."

Don Contreras shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.

"I know why you’ve called us here, gobernador. We’ve heard that war with the Americans has begun—which, I think, is to your pleasure," Señor Nieva chimed in.

Captain Roque cleared his throat. "Nobody likes war, Señor Nieva."

Don Contreras chuckled, picking up where Señor Nieva left off. "Yes... nobody, Señor Roque—except those dying for an excuse to consolidate power. Tariffs, taxes, embargoes... we know what follows."

"And we want you to know... if you intend to treat Marinduque like a frontline province in Aguinaldo’s war... you will not have our support. And your army of farmboys will not be enough to intimidate us."

Captain Roque and Pedro looked as if they were about to unleash an army of angry words when I immediately responded.

"Aguinaldo’s war... how interesting that you frame this conflict like a traitor," I said. Protests erupted, but I persisted.

"This is not Aguinaldo’s war... nor mine. This is a war between our country and a foreign invader."

"What country? When did we ever have our own country?" Don Contreras argued.

I slammed the table—hard enough to make some nearly jump from their seats. "Any more from your vile tongue, Don Contreras... and I will have you hanged in the plaza for treason!"

My shout echoed in the deafening silence that suddenly gripped the room. Many faces—especially those farther down the table—looked petrified. Perhaps they could easily imagine my army of farmboys arresting each one of them and marching them to the gallows.

"You force my hand," I said softly, my expression stern. "Given your reluctance—and even outright refusal—to support the survival of our young nation... perhaps some force really is necessary."

"Watch it, Don Martin," Florentino Paras, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "Do not be reckless."

I cleared my throat, glanced out the window for a moment, then returned my gaze to the room.

"As your Gobernador, and the military officer in charge of the Distrito Militar de Marinduque, Mindoro y Romblon..." I let the words hang for a moment. "I hereby place the entire province under martial law."