The following are extracts from the diary of my great great granduncle, who served
in the United States Marine Corps during the Philippine American War. Doing research on
him, his records say he was dishonorably discharged from the Marine Corps due to
drunkenness. Reading through these entries, I think I understand why he turned to
the bottle during his last year in service. I can still remember the baby's
cries. I can still remember the sight of the mother going around the village
carrying a injured child, begging for help. The baby was a garner.
We all knew that. With one arm ripped off by bullet and blood spilling
everywhere, it was a miracle that the baby still had enough energy to cry.
The baby was strong. I got to hand that to him, but
no stress was enough to save him. The bullet that struck him was a
stray one fired from an insurrector from the jungle during the first attack they made
since our arrival the day prior. It occurred early today at dawn, while
most of us and the villagers were still asleep, Firing wildly at the village.
The insurgents follies managed to miss our pickets, as well as US marines
sleeping in the flimsy huts that passed off as our barracks. We were lucky,
but the kid was not. Moments after his mother searched the village for
help, the baby's crying stopped. I feel sorry for the poor kid and
mother, but there was nothing that could be done. They were simply unlucky.
My funeral is to be held tomorrow, and the captain wanted some of
us marines to help in the ceremony. We hope to show the villagers that
we were on their side and win their respect by assisting in their traditions.
However, the village suggested that it would be best for us to stay away
from the funeral. He told the captain that the mother and some of her
relatives were angry at us, blaming us for a child's death. She thinks
that if we weren't here in the village, then the insurrectors would never have
attacked and fired that bullet that killed a child. The village leader feared that
our presence in the funeral would have caused some sort of fight between us and
the family. Hearing this frustrated the captain, but he relented although not before
muttering how ungrateful the locals were for the protection we were giving them against the
wondering the drowners. So far, it seems that us stay here and started
out badly. I was out at the big line last night when I heard
movement in front of me, just behind some bushes. There was someone there.
Immediately, I pointed the rifle towards the direction of the noise and fired.
No one was supposed to be outside the village at this time, so
it meant any native out of that time was most likely an insurrecto. Almost
immediately my shot alerted the other pickets and the marines back of the village.
From behind me, I get air officers and n CEOs waking sleeping marines and
ordering them to the respective outposts. Soon enough, I heard the sergeants calling
out to us on the picket line, ordering us to get back and rejoin
our respective sections. I wasted no time at running back towards the village to
take up my position at my assigned outpost. However, as I made my
way back, I noticed a lack of fire coming from the jungle. This
quickly told me that no attack was coming. For a moment I feared I
may have caused the false alarm, but I knew what I heard there had
been movement right in front of me. This insistent, however, did little
to stop the annoyed remarks from the others, who complained that I woke them
up for nothing. We spent the rest of the night restlessly waiting for an
attack that never came. Despite the lack of an asserting attack, I was
ultimately proven right that I did indeed hear movement. The first patrol of the
day inspected the area. I said, I fired my shot towards and found
that there was a body there. However, I'm not proud that my bullet
found its mark because the one I struck down was a woman. To be
specific, it was the woman who lost the baby during the insurgent attack.
We were all confused on why she was outside the village that night. To
make things even more confusing, it was later found out that she had dug
out her child's grave, leaving it empty. The officers speculated that the woman
was planning to join her husband, who was an insurrector, and that she
brought a dead child with her so that they could bury him in the mountains.
I'm not fully convinced by this. One of my friends, who was
on the patrol that saw her body, told me that she fell in a
way that looked like she was going back to the village, not away from
it. He also said that her clothes and feet were muddy, as if
she had just come back from the mountains. This, combined with the fact
that they couldn't find the corpse of a child with her when she fell,
tells me that she went to the mountains with the body and came back without
it. I don't know what this all means, but it makes me feel
uneasy thinking about it. Garrison, life in this village has been peaceful these
last couple of days, compared to the last fishing village we were assigned to
protect, where we were attacked almost nightly. I stay out here has been
calm, with no insurgent attacks occurring after the first encounter we had with them.
Most of the boys are happy about this, but I personally find it
strange. These islands are filled with the angry natives. We want nothing more
than for us to leave, so to find a little corner of these islands
that just so happens to have passive insurrectors just feels wrong. I'm not the
only one to think that this is strange, as the Captain has been wrestler
these past couple of days, wondering why the Insurrectos had been so quiet.
At first, he thought that the enemy was taking their time, choosing to
observe us from a distance so that they could gather this strength and make a
plan before springing their attack. He says that an army garrison on another island
had stayed in a village that they thought was peaceful, but once their guard
was down, the Insurrectos and the villagers rose up and massacred each one of
them. Who doesn't want us marines to meet the same fate, so he
increased security at our little outpost, doubling patrols around the village and making sure
that there were always two marines guarding our barracks at night. However, our
patrols of the surrounding jungle confused us more as they seemed to show that there
had been no recent insurgent activity near the village. Normally, footprints of Insurrectos
scouts would be found at the village outs girds, but here there were none,
so they either means the insurrectors here were better at covering their tracks,
or that they're just not trying at all. If it was the latter,
then why it didn't seem like them to leave one of her garrisons untouched or
unobserved. Lieutenant Miller, one of the glory hunting officers of the company,
believes the lack of insurgent activity reveals that the enemy is weak in this area.
He thinks that the insurrectors in charge of these parts are either few in
number, few and weapon, sick with dysentery, or all of the three.
Because of this, he believes that it's the perfect time to strike before
these insurgents could resolve their issues. Rumor is that he suggested to the Captain
that a strong expedition should be sent out to hunt for the insurgent camp and
eliminate them. I can't say I approve of this idea, but that's just
because there's a high chance that the Captain will task Lieutenant Miller with such an
operation with me being part of his platoon. Than that means I would end
up marching through the hot and muddy jungle deep within insurrecto country, praying that
none of those feral natives was hiding behind the thickets with a rifle pointed at
me. Patrolling the nearby jungle outskirts of the village was already bad enough,
but heading straight to enemy territory definitely brings higher risk. I'd rather be stuck
here doing menial tasks such as watching the villagers plant rice or inspecting their fishing
boats for contraband then go out there actively hunting for them. A platoons started
the march early in the day, just before the sun rose. Lieutenant Miller,
flanked by our trusted native scout and a local villager we coerced to guide
us through the jungle paths led the way, who was said to be the
brother of one of the insurrectors here, marched in front of the Lieutenant to
make sure that the enemy would be hesitant at firing a volley at our officer.
Our goal was to reach the stream located a few miles away from the
village. A native scout had extracted information from one of the villagers that such
a stream existed and may be used by the insurrectos as their water source.
Out there in the jungle. Lieutenant Miller hoped to search the area around the
stream and locate the insurgent camp. As expected, the march was difficult,
with narrow, slippery paths all along the way. Things only got worse once
the sun rose up as it added uncomfortable heat to our already laborious tasks.
A few hours into our march, every single marine had their uniforms soaking in
sweat. The only good thing about the march was that we weren't harassed by
the insurrectos. We talk a couple of quick breaks along the way, but
eventually, at around midday, we reached the stream. Making sure that the
area was clear. We took another quick break to regain our energy and refill
our canteens before beginning the search for the insurgent camp. Splitting up into three
sections, I ended up being the one led by the Lieutenant himself. Deciding
to go upstream, he led us along rocky terrain flanked by thick jungle.
With every step I fear that the insurrectors would ambush us. We kept quiet
as we made our way, trying to listen to our surroundings while looking for
any sign of the enemy. I don't remember how long it took, but
we eventually found something. It was not what any of us were expecting.
Laying by the stream was a Native, unmoving and lifeless. From what I
initially saw, I noticed that his clothes were stained in blood. Cautiously we
approached, wondering if this was an ambush. However, after a few minutes
of silence, Lieutenant Miller decided to move up towards the laying native. We
followed close behind him. Once the Lieutenant stood by the body, a sergeant
divided us, with one group led by the sergeant, spreading out to form
a picket around the air, while the other groups stayed by the lieutenant.
The fallen native was an insurrector. There was no doubt about that. With
him being deep in the jungle and with a revolver nearby him, we knew
that he was our enemy. But the way he died is what attracted our
curiosity. Being there next to the Lieutenant Miller, I saw the natives clothes
and skin had tear and scratch marks, while his stomach was gutted open,
entrails chewed on and spread all over. To me, it seemed like some
wild animal with sharp claws and teeth attacked him and began opening his stomach and
eating his internal organs. It was a gruesome sight, and I had to
do my best to keep my composure. As I stood there, we all
thought that the insurrector was attacked by a jungle animal. What animal it was,
we weren't sure, but I feared we could be its next victim.
For a moment, I gave a short prayer, hoping that whatever animal that
attacked him was no longer hungry. We stayed there for a while, debating
amongst ourselves what type of animal could have done that to the insurrector. When
the sergeant who informed the picket line called out to the lieutenant so one of
my men found the enemy camp. He called out, it's just behind the
bushes over here. With that, everyone quickly drought our rifles and double time
towards the sergeant. Positioning ourselves behind a thick wall of bushes, we peered
through the leaves and saw a clearing. On that clearing was a small camp
with huts, some scattered crates and sacks, and to our surprise, deceased
insurrectos. Cautiously moving forward and out of the bushes, we entered the enemy
camp and searched the place. There was no one there, only us and
the dead. Counting the bodies, we saw at least thirty all dead.
Inspecting their corpses, we noted that they suffered the same fate as the insurrecto
by the stream. Like him, their clothing and skin had tear marks and
scratches, while their stomachs ripped open and guts chewed on. This scared us
all, and I even saw the normally unfazed Lieutenant Miller give worried glances toward
the number of dead and gutted insurrectos on the jungle floor. Nothing there made
sense, and we began to question if it was possible for an animal,
or even a group of animals, that do such a thing. Clearly these
men were armed, and clearly they had tried fighting off whatever attacked them as
empty cases led to the ground, Yet despite their efforts, they were still
massacred. Not feeling secure with a few men he had their, Lieutenant Miller
ordered one marine to contact the other two sections and have them regroup with us.
Meanwhile, the rest of US marines remained at the camp and took up
defensive positions in case a different group of insurrectors came by to retake the camp.
As I stood watch at one section of the camp, I could hear
Lieutenant Miller and the sergeant talk behind me. Do you really think animals did
this? The lieutenant asked, Well, sir, it's the only possible answer.
I heard the sergeant respond, It reminds me of a bear attack back
home. Now, I'm not saying it was a bear that did this.
Hell, I'm not sure if they have bears here on this god Forsacond Island,
but it's what it reminds me of. Whatever the lieutenant was going to
say in response was suddenly drowned out by the chilling cry of a baby.
Turning my attention towards the cry, I quickly realized that it was coming from
the peace of jungle ahead of me. Acting on instinct, I quickly raised
my rifle towards the direction, but withheld my fire. Soon the lieutenant and
sergeant moved closer towards me, until the two were thanking me As they gazed
towards the jungle. For a moment, we all remained silent as we listened
to the cry of the baby. It sounded nearby, probably only a few
yards away. However, due to the thickness of the jungle, it was
impossible to see whether the source was Many questions plagued my mind at that moment.
Why was there a baby deep within the jungle? Was it alone?
Was this a trap being set up by the insurgents. I'm sure the lieutenant
was wondering the same thing as he took his time thinking how he should respond
to the situation. I'm not exactly sure what went on inside his head,
but him being a glory seeking character, he probably thought that it would look
good for him to investigate the source of the cry, and if the baby
was found, save it. The image of US Marines saving a native baby
from the clutches of the insurrectors would work well for our relations with the villagers,
and the lieutenant probably thought that the captain would praise him for such a
success. I believe that was what the lieutenant was thinking when he ordered us
to follow him, leaving behind only three Marines to remain at the clearing to
secure it and await the others. The lieutenant led the way, pushing his
way through the jungle. I followed close behind him, with the rest of
the boys behind me and the sergeant at the rear of our column. There
seemed to be no path towards the source of the crying, so the lieutenant
was forced to improvise and cut through the foliage with a native bolo knife he
always brought with him. Eventually, the sound of crying grew louder and louder,
further encouraging the lieutenant as he worked harder to get through the jungle,
staying close behind him, scanning ahead to make sure that the ground ahead of
the lieutenant was safe. I couldn't help but notice something as the crying echoed
in my ears. The cry sounded familiar. I know that the cries of
babies often sound the same, but this one sounded so familiar. It reminded
me of the cry of the baby that was struck by an Insurrecto's bullet,
the one who died earlier this week. The thought of that brought a chill
through my bones. As the sound of crying drew closer, the lieutenant eventually
reached the piece of flat ground, Shoving aside some large leaves. He soon
gave out a victorious shout as he pointed ahead of him. Looking past him,
I soon saw a baby on the ground, laying on dirt, crying
as it lay there. However, as I got a good glimpse of the
child, I felt my body stiffen in fear. The baby was missing most
of its arm. It looked as if the rest of its arm was torn
off, was shot off. A mixture of panic and fear filled me during
that moment. As ridiculous as it seemed, I thought that it was the
baby that had been killed at the village, But it was impossible the baby
was gone, So who was this right in front of us? Who was
this baby that looked exactly like it? After scanning the area to make sure
it was safe, the lieutenant slowly kneeled and prepared to pick up the baby
standing just behind him. I clutched my rifle firmly my hands as I felt
a sense of unease. Watching the lieutenant turned towards me. I saw the
baby cradled in his hands as your us back to the clearing. However,
as he was about to step forward and lead the way once more, the
baby began to peel its skin right before my eyes. The skin of the
baby began to peel off like a snake. Eyes wide in fear, I
fixated on it as the skin separated to reveal a second layer underneath, one
covered in wrinkles. At that moment, the lieutenant noticed my reaction and looked
down at the baby to be surprised at what he saw. In reaction,
he nearly dropped it, but the baby moved quickly as its one complete arm
suddenly grabbed him by the neck. The grasp must have been strong, because
I could hear the lieutenant begin to choke, losing hair. He fell on
the ground as he desperately tried to pull the baby off of him. Shaking
off my initial shock, I moved toward the lieutenant, and, after dropping
my rifle, tried to pull on the baby, who was grasping tightly on
his neck. However, my hands only managed to hold on to its peeling
skin. When I pulled, I ended up pulling his outer skin, completely,
removing it and revealing fully what was under It was no baby. It
was a monster hiding behind an innocent toddler's skin. Was a creature that I
could only describe as a wrinkly beast with dry skin, pointy ears, bloodshot
eyes, and disproportionate legs. It was ugly and small, Yet although Its
size was that of a baby. Its hands had long claws, while its
mouth had teeth as sharp as a bayonet. It looked deadly, and it
quickly proved that when it tore into the lieutenant's neck with its teeth going wild.
He used his teeth and claws. The rabbaged the lieutenant as he was
helpless to fight it off. Soon enough, he stopped struggling with this creature
continued to tear through his body, moving his attention away from its neck and
switching its focus to his stomach, which had tore open. With the ease
backing away quickly, I soon realized that the rest of the boys had their
rifles trained on the creature, but none of them fired. Even the sergeant
just stood there, unable to give orders. I'm not sure if it was
because of the shock of what they saw or the fear of hitting the lieutenant
earlier as he struggled, but whichever it was, none of them fired,
and now the lieutenant was dead body being consumed by a creature of nightmares.
As the sound of the creature snarling and tearing through flesh echoed in the jungle
for a moment, it remained like that. Then the sound of babies crying
erupted from above us. Looking up at the trees over our heads, I
saw a dozen of those terrible creatures hanging on the branches, staring at us
with hungry, bloodshot eyes. What occurred next happened so fast, and I
remember myself screaming as creatures jumped on us and fell on top of many of
the boys. I don't know how I got lucky, but I managed to
avoid one from dropping directly on top of me. Instead, he fell hard
on the ground. Before I could recover, I gave it a hard kick,
sending it flying towards a nearby tree. Looking around, I saw men
fighting for their lives, struggling to fend off the creatures they were clawing and
gnawing on them. Remembering what happened to the lieutenant, and realizing that there
was no way together creature off once it was on you, I decided not
to stay any longer. Dashing away, I did my best to follow the
path we made. As I moved as fast as I could back towards the
clearing. Behind me, I could hear the tortured screams of men as they
mixed with the hellish growls of these demonic creatures. I don't remember how long
I ran and tumbled through the jungle, but eventually I reached the clearing.
To my relief, the rest of the platoon was now there. Familiar faces
greeted me and asked me where the lieutenant and the rest of my section was,
but I couldn't reply. Instead, exhaustion overtook me and I collapsed.
Next thing I remember, I was back in the village, inside one of
the huts we used as a field hospital. I was safe now. I
later learned that out of all of the men in my section, I was
the only one that survived. The captain asked me what had happened, and
I told him what I remembered, but he gave me a strange look,
and I knew that he didn't believe me. I can't blame him. I
wouldn't have believed my story either if I didn't see it with my own eyes.
I had a few friends left here. Most thing, I've lost my
mind due to the encounter. Talk among the company says that many think that
the lieutenant and the rest of my section were ambushed by insurrectos and badly budgeted
by them in an attempt to send us a horrific message. From what I
hear, they'll soon be shipping me out of here. Johnny, one of
my few friends I have left in the company, says the captain has written
me off as unfit for combat. They'll probably end up sending me to the
garrison at Cavite, where it's much quieter. As much as I hate leaving
my unit behind, I'm happy to get away from this place and the horrors
contained within its jungles.