Republic Reborn: Against the Stars and Stripes-Chapter 115: Constrict

"Teniente Dimalanta has broken through!"

The enthusiastic, almost surprised shout came from the soldier manning the western-facing window of the belltower.

I turned and smiled, but took another glance at Roque. He had made it safely to the cover of the storehouse behind the well. Then I shifted my eyes to the dead recruit—our third casualty.

The stiff resistance in the approach toward the presidencia was to be expected. The church was taken with relative ease due to the element of surprise. The presidencia, however, would have to be pried away from an enemy now fully awake.

The cordon to the east was too shallow for comfort. But it would have to hold, for now.

"Historillo, go down and have someone send word to Roque’s platoon to stay where they are," I ordered. "To the rest of you, keep your eyes peeled to the east. Make sure to inform me if the enemy makes an advance."

Historillo hurried down the spiral steps of the belltower, rifle slung across his shoulder.

I briskly walked around the bell, boots echoing against the worn wooden floor, and approached the western window.

I had been too preoccupied with Roque’s debacle that I hadn’t noticed how the guns had fallen silent in rest of the town. The gunshots now erupted mainly from the presidencia and its defenders.

The soldier beside me pointed to the near distance—about 200 meters away—to the southwest. I followed his finger and first saw Lorenzo, emerging onto the street by the residential area. He walked confidently, without fear of enemy snipers, shouting at someone out of sight.

More rayadillos emerged from the alleyway.

Then the Pulajanes fighters came into view. Disarmed, all bound, and some of them wounded. The recruits dragged them into the street for us—and for Mario’s men—to see.

One had a wound on his head, which bled liberally down his face and shirt. He would not last. Another had a gash across his leg and limped painfully as the recruits kicked at him to move faster. The remaining ones simply looked tired and defeated. There were about five of them in total. freewebnøvel.com

The recruits manning the defense to the west of the church erupted in cheers. They spilled into the streets from their hiding places—behind carts, barrels, windowsills—raising their rifles in triumph.

I finally saw Dimalanta emerge much nearer, directly west of us, walking past the sniper Historillo had shot down. He had a squad of recruits with him and one captured Pulajan with a swollen, beaten-up face.

Nepomuceno, who was manning the nearby barricade of carts and barrels, leapt out of cover to hug the lieutenant out of both joy and relief.

As if to celebrate with us, with the battle turning to our favor, the first ray of the sun slipped from the horizon. It rode the waters, casting its pale-yellow beam against the waves beyond the town.

The silhouette of the gunship came into view. The ensign—the Philippine flag sewn by Isabela—flew proudly at the stern, the sunlight that touched it making it shine like its own source of light.

I sighed as the weight of it all came crashing down on my shoulders. The battle had gone long enough. Nearly an hour had gone by.

It was time to take one final, heavy step—to end it.

---

With the rest of the town cleared, the eastern cordon was strengthened to full capacity with elements from all three platoons. The Pulajanes fighters there were giving us a hell of a fight, and gunshots still loudly reigned across the town center.

I was half-expecting them to make a run for it—into the fields behind the presidencia—and be massacred by Vicente’s men, who had taken cover in the treeline. But they were cultists for a reason. Fear would not be in their vocabulary... at least not for most.

Three of the six Pulajanes captured by Lorenzo’s platoon had surrendered after running out of ammo—perhaps the least deluded of the cultists. But the rest, including three wounded ones they had captured, fought to the very last.

I called a conference of all the officers from the platoons that had converged on the church.

We gathered around the altar table, which I respectfully cleared of the shattered statue and other holy relics. I set aside a broken crucifix and dusted off shards of glass from a toppled candleholder.

There was no need for candles now, with the sun already up in the sky. Light spilled through the arched windows and other small openings, illuminating the dust in golden shafts.

"Enemy strength in the residential area to the southwest, I estimate to be about fifteen soldiers—six of which we captured, and we confirmed to have killed five. As for the rest, they might have been eliminated by Nepomuceno’s platoon or slipped away into other parts of town," Dimalanta reported when I asked for details of their assault. He said it without excitement, and I would soon know why.

"At... at the cost of two of our men," the sergeant continued, his voice faltering. "A wrong turn cost an NCO and the recruit right behind him their lives. A Pulajan charged out of the darkness and hacked both of them to death before—"

"And their sacrifice will not be forgotten," I interjected, before things could get emotional. We would have time to weep after all this was over. For now, we needed to remain emotionally detached.

"The two platoons I led also suffered three dead," I said, looking around at the grim faces of the officers. Roque, who had been fairly composed even after he had charged and slaughtered his way through the convent, was now staring blankly into the air.

I slammed the table with my palm to jolt them from whatever dark thoughts they were drowning in.

"But no more!" I declared, voice rising. "We will take no more casualties."

I unfurled a piece of parchment I had secured from the convent. On it were rough sketches—hastily drawn lines and symbols marking the position of the presidencia and nearby buildings.

"We will divide our force into four and attack from four different directions," I said, my hand drawing invisible arrows on the parchment. "No need to be hasty. Our cordon—and Vicente’s men entrenched in the east—have encircled the presidencia and its defenders. We’ll move slowly from cover to cover. We’ll constrict the remaining Pulajanes until they’ve been bled dry."

All of their eyes were on me now, but they still looked as groggy as when I had woken them up at midnight, earlier.

I slammed the table again, louder this time, the echo reverberating through the church.

"Para sa Republika!"

They flinched, then in unison, crisply saluted.

"Para sa Republika!"