While I may
not remember with fondness my ROTC (Reserved Officers Training Corps) course, I could
say it was not always a useless exercise.
Aside from that time when we paid for 20 rounds of
rifle bullets and received just five during live firing, I could not
forget the light moments that made the glum days, well, lively.
And I am not just referring to jokes, like
confessing having the almost irrepressible urge to shout “fire at will” while the
commandant was still inspecting the target sheets, but also on the gaffes he committed just to bring “joy” to the miserable cadets.
One instance was when there was this empty can of powdered milk labeled "Piso Para sa Pasig" (A peso for Pasig) being passed
around. We were wondering why we had to shell out
a valuable peso for the Pasig River when Guadalupe River (in Cebu City) is equally filthy and is
really already dead.
The big can,
we were told by reliable sources (a.k.a cadet officers), did not even reach
Pasig City. Not by a long stretch. The collected money allegedly went to a bakery
for the snacks of guests visiting the commandant. Lucky Tita Julie.
Another
lucky individual was a guy the commandant recommended for us to order our
fatigue uniforms from. Maybe the man,
who was waiting at the stands, was one of those “Non-Commissioned Officers?” Being an NCO has nothing to do with tailoring,
I later learned, but on a soldier’s place in the hierarchy of the police or military
service. But that is another story.
Then there
was this ROTC formation where the commandant, in a solemn voice (which was
rare), addressed the battalion of bored cadets that the next day they must
bring “trees” because, of course, we would be tree planting. (He would have called it seedling planting, I
suppose, if what he wanted was for us to bring seedlings.)
Thank God no
one obeyed him to the last word, and he did not show any hint of annoyance when
we brought sprouts and saplings, not trees, which was easier to do. Seeing
cadets struggling with all their strength in showing a felled tree, trunk and
leaves and all, to him would have brought the house down.
He was,
however, incensed when he learned that there were some of us who skipped an
inspection because we had to attend to school paper editors participating in a
seminar hosted by our College’s student publication.
“You seminarians thought you can get away with
this?!” he fumed, and had the entire platoon do push ups as punishment.
So all of us, seminarians and non-seminarians, who by that time could already do 30 pumps without stopping, heeded the lord.
Of course we
fought hard not to giggle, afraid that we might earn a punch from him (which an obstinate
cadet did get for another offense.)
I am sure
others have long tales and horror stories on their ROTC experiences.
But,
seriously now, one thing I can profoundly agree on for its return as part of college life is that, if not for the
discipline, at least for the good laugh.
