A Circle Below the Sun - four.oclock (classic books to read txt) 📗

the Philippines surrendered to the Japanese forces. More than 70,000 American and Filipino soldiers were forced to walk, barefoot and with no water, for 98 kilometers. Many died along the way due to hunger, thirst and wounds inflicted by the Japanese soldiers. This incident soon became popularly known as the ‘Death March’ and the march lasted for six days.


A month passed with not a single news from Delfin, Hanna’s brother, and there was also no word coming from Australia or the United Nations. Karen never talked about Bataan's surrender, but she would always come to hug Hanna whenever the girl cuddles on bed, sobbing meekly.

The Colonel, on the other hand, never returned since his last visit and I doubted if he still would. I knew Hanna was depressed, but one thing wonderful about her, for some reason, she could cope up fast.

One night, Hanna woke up wiping the tears on her eyes. She pulled me closer and pressed a finger on her lips, signaling me to keep quiet. She looked cautiously to the nurses and patients that had now filled three-fourths of the room. Afterward, she tiptoed down the bed, with one hand clutching mine, and the other stealing another glass of water on the table.

“Delfin will be happy with this.” She winked at me as she silently headed for the door.

We ended in the first family’s barracks where coughing sounds echoed once more.

Smiling faintly, she placed the glass at the foot of the door; but before she could knock, a man’s voice yelled from the inside, “Bullshit!”

Hanna stepped back and I felt my left hand slightly deviating from my shoulder.

“How could they do this to us?” the voice continued, pausing to cough once more. “After all we’ve done? After all the loyalty we’ve displayed? They’re just going to abandon us for the sake of helping a distant cousin!”*

Hanna gulped, but instead of running away, she proceeded to knock gently on the door. “Who’s there?” the voice asked and I heard the squeaking of chairs.

Hanna immediately tugged me. Realizing that my hand was already being disassembled, she pulled me to a hug, as she sprinted as fast as she could.


*A message from President Roosevelt eventually calmed our government officials. The letter said plans had already been made to aid the Philippines and the rest in the Pacific. To confirm loyalty and to ascertain the United Nations’ assistance to the Philippines, the first family and the President’s cabinet flew to America.


With the departure of the President, people thought things would soon flow smoothly and that the fall of Bataan already marked the darkest hours of the Philippines. Nonetheless, they were wrong.

After two months, Col. Deo appeared – nullifying my instinct – in the infirmary, but with the stern look in his now scarred face, I knew he wouldn’t be bringing smile to Hanna. As he walked in, he led Karen away from the other nurses and the patients.

I watched curiously as they woke up Hanna who once again cried herself to sleep. “Dear, you need to leave,” the Colonel said, shaking Hanna’s shoulder’s slightly.

“Papa? Mama?” Hanna responded dubiously.

“What’s going on?” Karen asked.

Col. Deo rolled his eyes to the patients. His lips curled to a faint smile, the pain reflected in his gray eyes.


The rest of the night was filled with serene melodies. A party was held at the main tunnel and Hanna watched gleefully as her parents danced with other pairs of lovers. As told by her mother, she just sat still, keeping away from the soldiers playing poker and drinking wine. It was a night to remember, a night of happiness with no pain, no anger … it was all peace.

Like a Cinderella story, things had ended when the clock struck 12. Col. Deo led all the children to the last wing on the left. When we had reached the end, we were already near the woods.

An open wooden carriage - which resembled a mini-truck - was already waiting and the Colonel instructed everybody to get in. The children objected, but a fierce shout from the Colonel made them obey, instantly. Nonetheless, Hanna remained unmoved.

The Colonel sighed, kneeling in front of her and I stared at his dejected eyes. “Remember what Papa and Mama told you before?” he said, patting a finger on my head. “This one here is your gift for a being a good daughter, a good child, for being the most obedient child in the world. And an obedient child is like?”

“An obedient soldier,” Hanna replied in between her sobs.

"And an obedient soldier is?"

"The best," Hanna paused as the Colonel brushed of her tears. "The best soldier in the world."

He took off the bronze badge on his chest and pinned it on Hanna’s dirty white dress. “And this is for the best soldier in the world.”

Hanna nodded meekly, clutching me tighter.


Once all the kids had boarded - there were about eight of them - a thin, metal screen was placed above the carriage. The many holes in the metal, showed the Colonel dumping stacks of hay on top of the screen, careful to leave the children breathing space.

Everyone stayed motionless for a while, no one bothered to speak, swallowing their own sobs and cries. As the last stack was placed, Hanna glanced up and I too, gazed one last time at the Colonel. He had lost the youth glow in his face, his black hair now turning gray and deep circles narrowed his eyes. He was no longer the man who had paid a few coins on the grumpy store manager and who had carried me gently, handing me to Hanna. He had changed, but during those time, who didn't?

The carriage swerved toward the forest, hiding within the towering mango trees, leaving behind the Colonel's shadows. That time for sure, I knew, it was goodbye.


A boy and a girl – Tacio and Annie, if I remembered correctly – crawled on each side of Hanna. Hanna released me from her hug and seized the hands of the other children who were evidently younger than her. Annie then started mumbling something. I caught the words, “I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord …”

“What are you doing?” Tacio asked.

Annie smiled feebly. “Let’s pray.”

Upon mention of this, our carriage halted. A voice of a man screamed in Japanese, which I didn't understood. The children cringed, cramming together, away from the source of the voice. My left arm fell as Hanna moved swiftly with the rest.

“He was conceived …” Annie continued, being echoed quietly by some of the children.

The haystacks above us rose and I felt Hanna’s heartbeat came to a stop. Two pairs of narrow black eyes, peeping through the holes in the screen, locked into my blue, glazed ones. Then, the screen was replaced to its position. The children exchanged shocked, but relieved sighs, as the Japanese yelled something like, “Go!’ and our carriage moved on.


*The next day, on May 6, 1942, Wainwright signed an agreement with the Japanese forces, yielding Philippines’ last stronghold, Corregidor. The Japanese commander insisted he wanted the entire archipelago and Wainwright succumbed to the enemies.

As the Japanese flag was raised, the Allied soldiers marched out of the Malinta Tunnel with no weapons and with both hands raised. But as Wainwright’s letter for Roosevelt said, ‘We surrender our firearms but not our will.’

Nonetheless, we are proud to brag that though the Japanese assumed that the Philippines would fall within 50 days, Bataan and Corregidor stood strong for 5 months even with minimal support from the United Nations.


Hanna and I successfully escaped to Leyte down south through an American ferry boat. From there, we flew to Australia where more of the Allied Forces were situated.


Twenty years after the end of the battles, Hanna and I finally returned to Corregidor. Two years after Corregidor’s surrender, we heard of President Quezon's death of tuberculosis in New York. He died still seeking help from the US and UN.

Although he wasn’t able to witness this today, his long fought battle was fruitful. And now, we were back here.

The past years were difficult for Hanna, starting a new life, leaving the harsh memories behind and trying not to look at the badge, and at me, with tearful eyes.

She cradled me gently, humming the same lullaby, as she walked the bridge on the shore which miraculously still stood with just a couple of holes in it. She examined my shoulder and caressed the portion where my left hand used to be connected. She then removed the badge on my small apron. I felt alleviated. It was heavy. Funny, wasn’t it? A doll actually feels. But it wasn’t heavy because of its weight as an object. It was heavy … the weight of the pain it contained was heavy.

She clutched the badge and kissed it. “This is for the best soldier in the world.” There was a soft plop of water as she threw the badge as far as she could.

She squeezed me once more before stretching out her arms, making me feel the breeze coming from the sea. My hair flew gently with every surge of the wind; it was bliss.

I felt myself falling freely; with a splash, sinking deeper into the waters. The water was warm on my skin. The sweet warmth of freedom. Did I long for my freedom? No, Lord knows I never did. But this freedom wasn’t for me, it was for her …

I stared up to the disappearing light above, a bright circle, a guiding light from the blazing sun. Hanna was far away, but I could see her smile. For the first time in twenty-two years, even without a voice and even with plastic single-hand, I believed, I finally reached the thing of hers I loved the most … I finally reached her heart.

THE END

*As for the title of this story, “A Circle Below the Sun” actually refers to the altar built in Corregidor. It serves as a monument for the heroes of the war and every year, somewhere on the week of May 6 (the day Corregidor surrendered), the rays of the sun, lights the entire circular surface of the altar.

(Caution: The succeeding is already a brief opinion from me. Don’t read if you’re not interested :))

You might find this story weird or just a mere display of historical events. But I would just like to point out that in every war; a soldier’s life doesn’t only belong to the battlefield. Some may insinuate that once a soldier has given an oath, his life belongs to the country; true. However, I believe a life is a life whatever scenario it is situated. Beyond a battlefield, a soldier has a life to live not just for himself but for his children, for all the people who loves him.

I would also like to clear that it is not true that we have developed biases against the Japanese people. We condemn the Death March, we condemn the entire World War II; but I hope the inclusion of the Japanese soldier in the end of the story settles this issue. I believe, whatever a soldier is fighting for, not all of them wants war. I don’t think