Chapter 120: Liberally Poured
The soldiers stole glances at me as Teniente Medina continued to drone on in Spanish. If Vicente were here, then I wouldn’t be the only one who understood what the officer was talking about.
Your typical Filipino—even some in the principalia—only knows rudimentary Spanish. Madrid had no quarrel about giving the natives an education. The local Spanish authorities, perhaps to consolidate their power, made sure only a select few could afford it.
They might catch every third or fourth word in the conversation but would likely not understand it as a whole.
Although I think they were picking up clues from the scribbles the lieutenant was making in the dirt with his knife.
On the ground was a square drawn in the dust, surrounded by a circle. A small cross had been marked at the left curve of the circle to show our position—to the western flank of the presidencia building.
He drew another cross directly opposite, near his knee. "El flanco oriental de los pulajanes is busy with your hombres behind the treeline across the field," he said, tapping it with the tip of his blade.
The Spaniard proceeded to mark the bottom and top of the circle with additional crosses. "That means we’ll only have to worry about the pulajanes fighters manning the norte and the sur. They also need to be busy to take some attention away from the soldados who will assault the presidencia."
Like a painter adding the final stroke to his canvas, he slashed an X through the square. "Once the presidencia is taken... todo es más fácil from there."
Whether it was a sound or terrible plan depended on several factors. Chief among them was how heavily guarded the presidencia actually was. After all, we’d be storming a central position deep in enemy-held ground. If we couldn’t secure it within minutes, then we’d risk becoming sitting ducks—trapped and exposed to fire from all directions.