“And do you expect to preside over the trial yourself?” Teguina asked mockingly. “You are hated in this country. The people blame you for all that has happened. You as President of the Philippines will ensure civil unrest and political hatred for the next generation — you will tear this country apart far worse than I ever could. If I am sentenced to die on the gallows of Marikina Cathedral, I will certainly see you there beside me.”
“I will let the people and the Parliament decide that,” Samar said. “And I will not preside over your trial — the President will.”
Teguina’s smile vanished, and he looked at Samar’s face in complete confusion. “The… President? But if you will not preside—”
Samar turned to watch as the helicopter that had been safely orbiting the rooftop now began its descent. When it landed, the left side opened…
… and out stepped Arturo Mikaso.
Teguina could not believe his eyes. His jaw dropped open in complete surprise as Mikaso stepped toward him. “Hello, Daniel,” the Philippine President said. “Thank you for allowing us the use of your getaway helicopter.”
Teguina also noticed that a Chinese Army officer and two American military officers also stepped out of the same helicopter. “What… what kind of conspiracy is this?” he stammered.
“No conspiracy, Daniel,” Mikaso said. “The Chinese military has always said that they are in the Philippines to support the legitimate government against rebels who wish to seize power. Well, I am the legitimate government, and you are a traitor. They now support my government, along with the American military. Now that the Filipino military is firmly behind me once more, their services are no longer required, and they have advised us that they are departing immediately — as are the Americans.”
“But… but I thought you were dead!”
“You mean, you thought I had been executed,” Mikaso corrected him. “I have learned that the Chinese dislike the stain of honor that goes with executing a head of state. They shot me all right — but it was only a superficial wound. Then they put me in protective custody — a prison in any sense of the word, but I think a far better fate than one that you had in store for me.” He nodded to the Commonwealth Defense Force guards. “Take the First Vice President into custody. I have already advised the Speaker of the Parliament of this action; he will meet you at Government House with a copy of my warrant sworn out against Teguina.”
After Teguina was led away, Mikaso and Samar stood and faced each other. Samar wore an expressionless visage; Mikaso a slight smile. “So, General Samar. Are you happy to see me as well?”
“Why did you stay in custody so long?” Samar asked bitterly. “The country has suffered much because of your silence.”
“I had little choice in the matter, Jose,” Mikaso explained. “While I was recuperating, the Chinese were trying to decide which way the wind was blowing before really killing me. If they had not seen what kind of fool Teguina was, I would be six feet under a dungheap in Manchuria by now.” He sighed, looking across to the surrounding skyscrapers and tropical trees of Manila, then added, “The country needed to experience a little suffering, Jose,” Mikaso said. “There will always be those who think that armed struggle and revolution will accomplish more than democracy. I think the people had a taste of what happens when democracy is not allowed to work. If democracy fails, the will of whoever has the biggest or the best guns prevails. That means death and destruction on a massive scale.”
Mikaso’s smile did not dim one bit as he continued. “You were once a proponent of such a struggle not too long ago, General — in fact, I believe the Chinese would have gladly followed you if you decided to lead the nation in revolt. Could it be that the fearsome jungle fighter Jose Trujillo Samar believes in democracy after all?”
Samar shrugged, his features still hard-looking and dark despite his hairless face. “Times change, politics change, politics change… but I do not.”
“We shall see,” Mikaso said. “We… shall… see.” He turned to face the two American and the Chinese military officers. “So. Should we now expel all foreign military forces from our country, Jose?”
“Part of the problem in this country was that we excluded some but invited others,” Samar said. “Our country is still too poor to hope we can survive by isolating ourselves from all contact with the outside world — perhaps we should try opening our ports to all foreign military vessels. If the Americans have use of port facilities for their military fleets, why not the Chinese, or the Vietnamese, or the Russians? Is one society more or less corrupting than another?”
“Interesting idea,” Mikaso said. “Interesting…
“I know, I know — you did not expect it of me,” Samar said. “I am just a poor dumb soldier, forced to dress like a politician.”
“Is that how you see yourself?”
“If I could control what others thought of me, it would be different,” Samar said. There was a rather long and comfortable pause between the two men; then: “What will you do with Teguina? Will you push for the gallows?”
“Good question, Jose. What would you do?”
Samar adopted a faraway glance. “I’ve seen enough death in this country,” he said. “Frankly, I do not think that fool Teguina had a chance in hell of succeeding — he is too greedy and self-serving to lead a country in revolution…”
“Are you?”
Samar gave Mikaso an irritated glance. “You speak like some kind of amateur psychiatrist, Mr. President, answering questions with questions.” He ignored Mikaso’s question and concluded, “I don’t think such blind idiocy deserves the gallows. The prison at Puerto Princesa would be an appropriate home for him for the rest of his life.”
“Good answer,” Mikaso said. He took a deep breath, expelled it, and said, “I have decided to advise the Parliament tomorrow morning that I will step down as President and that you serve out the remainder of my term. What do you think of that, Jose?”
Without eyebrows, it was hard to tell if Samar reacted at all to the announcement with anything that might be considered surprise. With characteristic calm, he nodded at Mikaso and said with just a hint of a smile, “I approve of your decision, Mr. President.”
“Attention to orders,” Colonel Michael Krieg, General Richard “Rat Killer” Stone’s aide, began. “Citation to accompany the award of the Air Force Distinguished Flying Cross to Patrick S. McLanahan.”
General Stone stood in front of Patrick McLanahan in the Rose Garden of the White House. Just a few steps away was the President of the United States, the Vice President, and just about every other Cabinet member, important Congressmen, and a host of other dignitaries. Aligned along the front steps of the White House were twelve crew members — one B-52 crew from Fairchild AFB in Washington state, one B-1 crew from Dyess AFB in Texas, and Cobb and McLanahan — selected to receive the prestigious DFC in a White House ceremony. All members of the Air Battle Force had received Joint Service Commendation Medals, and many had received Bronze Stars for their roles in the Philippine conflict.
“Lieutenant Colonel Patrick S. McLanahan distinguished himself by meritorious service as Mission Commander, B-2A, from 1 October 1994 to 2 November 1994. During this period, the outstanding professional skill, exceptional leadership, and selfless efforts of Lieutenant Colonel McLanahan aided significantly in the successful battle against invading People’s Republic of China forces in the Republic of the Philippines.”