Chapter 23: Resilience
I got déjà vu, seeing the red-faced Luna at the entrance of the hut. His rayadillo uniform was stained with dirt and grass, and the soles of his boots were caked in mud. His short but messy hair was revealed in the absence of his cap, which I suspected was still at the bottom of the trench.
The cadets had finally been hauled out of the open and into the shade of a large mango tree in front of the hut, where Luna's lieutenants and sergeants distributed food and drink.
"What a useless bunch..." Luna said, his ragged breathing audible. We knew he was talking about the officers, but the way he looked at us while saying it had a different effect.
All of us stood up, leaving our chairs as soon as he approached the hut. For a while, no one dared speak. Only when the general visibly calmed down did Colonel Roman approach and offer him a seat.
Luna loosened the buttons of his tunic and cuffs, then collapsed into the chair with an angry huff. Captain Rusca hastily filled a bumbong and handed it to the thirsty general. Hydrated and seated, the redness in his cheeks finally faded.
Heneral Torres and I sat back down, internally sighing in relief.
"It is good of you to visit, Heneral Torres," Heneral Luna said dryly, snatching a slice of bibingka and taking a bite before continuing. "I was told that some of your officers still refuse to be trained under my Academia Militar."
Heneral Torres scratched his head. "You know how hard my position is, Heneral. Some of these officers are sons of powerful families. If we force them to join, we will be antagonizing our biggest sponsors. That would be unwise, given how badly we need funds and supplies."
Heneral Luna let out a bitter chuckle, and for a moment, I thought he would start shouting again. But he didn't. Perhaps even he knew how to speak differently when talking to peers.