The Zhongguo Orchestra

noreply@blogger.com (Jos Kehek) — Thu, 10 Mar 2011 13:20:00 +0000

Ryder saw the Commanding Officer (CO) of the Philippine National Police-Field Force (PNP-FF) standing about a hundred meters away from the demonstrators.

The CO was keenly observing the demonstrators outside the PNP-FF Mobile Command Center (MCC) with great apprehension. He surely had a number of reasons to be alarmed, and for one, his day did not start according to plan.

“Colonel, this doesn’t look so good to me,” Ryder said as he came close to the police officer, his tone failed to cheer the CO.

In his lengthy years in the service, the CO could sense when violent confrontations are sure to happen, and that night was one of them.

The uncontrollable anger spewed on the street by the demonstrators was indicator of an imminent danger. It did not escape the observation of Ryder.

“Looks like a messy one again to me,” Ryder prophesied.

“That’s what I’m afraid of . . . every time you show up in my front yard something violent happens. You’re scaring me, Ryder,” the CO replied in jest.

Ryder laughed at the dry humor, and said, “Colonel Torres, just like you, I want to be where the action is.”

“That’s very true my friend, I'm sure we both are,” Torres replied. “But not this time, I’d rather sit this one out.”

Ryder picked-up what the PNP-FF commander meant, and he observed also the odds were not so favorable to the PNP-FF crowd disturbance control unit (CDCU).

“Any plans at all to disperse the crowd, Colonel?” It sounded like inane question, but Ryder’s purpose was to measure the resolve of the police officer.

Should the PNP-FF chief order the dispersal?

Torres looked at the demonstrators who outnumbered the PNP-FF 30 to one, according to the estimate of his Intelligence Officer. The ratio wasn't so good at all.

Earlier that morning, he requested the PNP-HQS to augment the Field Force, he needed some more bodies to strengthen the first tier of his defense. The reinforcement arrived - 500 police officers in all! – hauled up from the three police districts in the National Capital Region (NCR). It’s not enough, he complained inwardly, but better than not having them at all.

Torres was hoping to see the troops from Western Police District CDCU, consisting of police officers from Manila Police Department. They’d surely ease their load real good, but the WPD contingents were somewhere else, deployed at the historic Mendiola Bridge. Together with the Philippine Army contingents, the WPD CDCU served as the blocking force against another group of demonstrators that wanted to cross over the bridge.

The famous bridge was one of the main arteries leading to Malacanan Palace, the seat of the Office of the President of the Philippines.

Turning to Ryder, he said, “You know what? That’s the sixth time I’ve been asked the same question. I found myself giving the same answer six times: If the demonstrators asked for it, I would give it to them with no hesitation,”

"Too risky, Sir," commented Ryder.

“I know, my friend. It’s too dngerous to break them apart at this time, especially now they're too pumped up."

"Their emotion is conducive to hostile actions."

"That's why I'm committed to enforce maximum tolerance, unless my unit is attacked.”

“I thought you would say that, Sir. It’s best for both sides when everyone remains cool,” Ryder said, catching himself meddling with the internal affairs of a police agency.

Torres seemed not to mind it at all, as he’s used to inquisitions from the press, although he's not very open as he is with Ryder.

“I have no qualms breaking the demonstration early today, if only my men were properly equipped . . . Look at them, they're carrying antiquated gears! Embarassing! It’s shameful we could only react to the situation because of their pathetic equipment!”

Ryder laid his eyes on the two rows of PNP-FF members blocking the demonstrators from proceeding near the Manila Hotel. He commiseratied with Torres who'd yearned for modern equipment, and whose requests failed on deaf ears.

He did not say a word reagarding the destitute state of the PNP-FF, keeping his silence on the issue was appropriate.

In his one month of coveraging the Philippines, Ryder quickly learned the rampant graft and corruption that bedeviled the PNP. News reports of senior officers divesting fund intended to upgrade the equipment and armaments of police officers remained just as news. No one dares to come out as a witness in the government probes.

Ryder had to say something to Torres to lift the sagging spirit of the police officer.

“Seriously, Colonel, you’re men look so tough to me. I’m sure they can handle the violent crowd with ease and great confidence. I’ve seen how your guys performed bravely in the last two rallies."

"Yes, they handled the disturbance very well."

"Pretty sure they could duplicate their great feat again tonight, if something bad happened. I don’t see any reasons why they couldn’t.”

It was an unsolicited encouragement that Torres warmly accepted. He needed that one, even coming from a foreign press.

“Thank you for the kind words, my friend, although I was expecting to hear it from my superiors,” Torres said earnestly. “Listen, do me a favor, my friend."

“Go, ahead Colonel, I’m listening.”

“I want to tell you something . . .," Torres stopped, thinking of what to say. He went on, "I want you to cover the demonstrators more closely than the last time. They may be up to something big tonight.”

Torres didn't mention the purported plan of the communist’s urban terrorist group known as the Sparrow Units (SU) to destabilize the demonstration. Intelligence Report had it that the Sparrow members would infiltrate the ranks of the demonstrators and would provoke confrontation with the PNP-FF.

The tip was gratefully taken by Ryder, even sort of a piece-meal information. Having understood the Filipino culture, he knew he must express thankfulness to the police officer.

“Thank you, and I would gladly do it, Colonel. You know they can’t hide from me and my friend Nikon," Ryder said as he tapped his camera. "Is there anything that I need to pay close attention to, say, a terrorist attack?” Ryder’s antenna for information gathering automatically went up.

“No, I don’t think so. What the militants could only do is to disrupt the peaceful assembly. Keep your sights on them, those front liners, the ones with red bandanas covering their faces."

"I would surely keep an eye on them."

"They’re not afraid to bang heads with my men. They're the street provocateurs, and you have already witnessed what they’re capable of.”

“Yes, I did. I'll keep my eyes open on flying objects."

"Better be, keep all your senses working."

"How about threats to Secretary Berzowski, Sir?” Ryder asked, fishing for more information.

“None that I know of, never got a report on that. Should the rally became violent, I say the Secretary's delegation must stay inside the hotel. You know what I’m saying?”

“Gotcha, Colonel,” Ryder said, his mind racing forward. “Thank you for the tip. I owe you one.”

“No, Mister Ryder, we owe you, Sir. You saved us from the brunt of the communist politicians in congress. What you did last week was worth thanking for.”

Ryder's thought went back to the demonstration six days ago. The protest rally he covered was marred with violence, and was denounced by political opposition parties. The vitriol remarks from leftist politicians were not so forgiving to Torres's and his men.

The Progressive Bloc in the House of Representative assailed the PNP-FF of oppressive treatments of the demonstrators. They called out the police officers as fascists, serving only the interests of their master - the United States of America.

The pictures took by Ryder for The Global Tribune and later on picked up by major newswires captured the vicious moments of a violent dispersal. The pictures were worth a thousand confirmations, as it parlayed the accusations of the Progressive Bloc of police brutality. And on a glaring twist, it depicted the PNP-FF as the aggrieved party, not the assailants.

Three of the notable pictures showed five demonstrators beating a helpless police officer lying on the ground. The second slide caught four seminarians on white frocks throwing Molotov cocktails against unsecured police vehicles. The third one showed shot of Torres with his bloodied face after a wayward stone found its mark on his forehead.

The PNP HQS used the pictures to silence its accusers, and the leftist politicians lose its ammunition to fire back. Checked mate!

“Frankly, Colonel, I’m just doing the job entrusted of me. It was a payback for your hospitality. You’ve let me in and out of your front yard all the time.”

“Just because others trashed my yard, not you! You’re different from the rests.”

“Sir, I’m earning my living in a different way. I'm totally different from the rests,” Ryder said with a smile.

“I believe so, just don’t change.”

“I won't, Sir. See you around, Colonel. Stay safe,” Ryder said, and then walked away, heading towards the direction of the Manila Hotel.

noreply@blogger.com (Jos Kehek) — Thu, 10 Mar 2011 00:01:00 +0000

Ryder looked back, and he saw Madrigal with his left hand up in the air, and then the chanting slowly subsided. What he’s going to say next?, Ryder said to himself.

The activist put the megaphone closely to his mouth with his right hand, his left hand on a clenched fist. He unleashed another mouthful of tirades against the United States government.

Madrigal declared, “We’re not going to let the imperialist shackle our freedom! We won’t let a foreign nation dictates our way of life. We must strongly resist the pressure of the imperialists. We must defend our priceless sovereignty. Tell the puppets in congress to stop selling our nation to the evil Americans!”

The young man paused to catch his breath, and while reclaiming his composure, he listened appreciatively to the crowd yelling the catch phrases of the day.

“Yankees go home, Yankees go home!”
“No to U.S.-R.P. bases treaty!”
“Down with U.S. imperialism!”

The uproar of thousands of demonstrators heeding his call inspired Madrigal even more to be bombastic. It became a mutual admiration.

The crowd now embraced his provocative leftist sentiment wrapped in nationalist insinuation. Indeed, it was very encouraging.

He gazed down at the demosntrators from the top of the truck, while his audience stood in awe, waiting on what he was going to say next.

Madrigal knew what they wanted to hear, and he gave it to them passionately!

“For 300 years our nation was dismembered by the Spaniard’s swords. For fifty years our nation was ripped in tiny pieces by the claws of the American eagles. For five years our nation was cut from head to toes by the Japanese samurais! My compatriots listen to me! The suffering of our motherland won’t end unless you freedom fighters put a stop on this neo-colonization! I am appealing to you all to unite! Beware of the resurrected threats from the claws of the American eagles. I say again, to all of you who would die for the real independence, let us unite to stop this grave danger looming in our land! Let’s cut the claws of the American eagles! Are you all with me!?”

The crowd roared in unison in ecstatic approval.

“Yes, we are!”

“Yes, we are!”

“Yes, we are!”

The chants resonated loudly as it stirred everyone’s adrenalin. The cajoling went on for a minute, taking the emotional steam out of everyone’s hearts. And when the noise subsided, Madrigal belted out his call for action.

It was not a call for demonstration. It was a call for insurrection!

“Fellow progressives, we will fight with honor and dignity in our land! We will fight in the hills, in the mountains, on the seas, and in every street! I say, move on forward you vanguards of society! Enough is enough! Let's stop the evil Americans!”

The crowd unleashed a thunderous applause, the loudest that night. The drumbeats and sound of whistles that stimulated the demonstrators to euphoria now catapulted them to hysteric state.

“Yankees go home, Yankees go home!”
“No to U.S.-R.P. bases treaty!”
“Down with U.S. imperialism!”

noreply@blogger.com (Jos Kehek) — Wed, 09 Mar 2011 23:51:00 +0000

There are two methods of fighting:
One is by law and the other is by force.
The first is of man while the second is of the beast.
When the first one is insufficient,
One must recourse to the other.
-Machiavelli, From the Prince and his Discourses

Rizal Park, Manila
December, 6:30PM

“Yankees go home! Yankees go home!”
“No to U.S.-R.P. bases treaty!”
“Down with the U.S. imperialism!”

York Ryder moved freely like a wildcat in the midst of the rapturous demonstrators converged hundred yards away from the historic Manila Hotel. With his media credentials dangling on his front, he inched his way to the middle of the crowd, looking for a good spot to take his shots.

Like a predator hunting his prey at night, he found his mark and trained his old Nikon camera against the student leader standing on the flatbed truck. The small stature of the activist was visible to the massive crowd, more so to his powerful telephoto lens.

Old-school photojournalist never dies, he just carry automatic-rewinding camera in the battlefield – so he told his peers. Well, he also carried a digital camera hanging loosely from his neck. He found the D-Cam useful on fast paced coverages, taking pictures when the objective is to catch his subjects in a twinkling of an eye.

Ryder was a rare breed of a photojournalist, always desiring for the best shots, like what he's doing now. With the protesters in the foreground, he superimposed the student leader in his frame, pressed the button of the camera, and got the pictures he wanted.

He's assured the Fuji film rolled inside his Nikon would give him picture-perfect positives. The Japanese brand never failed him, to his satisfaction.

He needed some more shots, and slowly he adjusted the camera lens’s opening, and then the shutter speed. That simple trick of the trade would compensate for the inadequate light in the street.

Satisfied with the depth of field, he pressed the camera button, which automatically unleashes sequential “clicks-clacks” and melodious mechanical hums. The sound unmistakably was music to Ryder’s ears, sending scintillating feeling to his artistic soul.

Well, he did it again, another set of pictures under his belt. Pictures worthy of editorial praise, front page materials that sure to grace the Global Tribune.

Ryder stood on his spot for a moment and listened to the diatribes spewed by the student leader.

The young man was a gifted speaker, a natural street provocateur. The first time he heard him speak, he couldn’t help but admire his glibness. He’d covered him a dozen times, and every time he'd made sure of taking shots of Alvin Madrigal.

Madrigal’s fiery speech captured the attention of the demonstrators, and to everyone who could hear the PA system. His suppositions fueled hatred in the supple hearts of his captive audience. He's a reminiscent of the infamous German leader in the 1930s who peddled the supremacy of the Aryan race to the Germans. This time around, the peddler was selling his revolutionary thoughts coated with nationalist sentiment.

His audience intermittently broke the silence with chants of anti-American slogans whenever he paused. This went on and on and their thunderous shouts reverberated forcefully in the air like a stampede of thousands wild elephants.

Countless number of red streamers and improvised placards bearing leftist slogans and anti-government propagandas swayed to the sound of drumbeats and whistles.

Surely, the gathering was not for the tepid hearts. It was an assembly of belligerent activists who proudly called themselves street parliamentarians.

About the Blog Novel

noreply@blogger.com (Jos Kehek) — Wed, 09 Mar 2011 22:02:00 +0000

The Zhongguo Orchestra is an action-packed story of a US Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) field operator known as York Ryder who’s tasked to hunt groups of terrorists that killed the US Secretary of State Allan Berzowski and his delegation in Manila.

Along with the top secret counter-terrorist unit of the Philippines’ National Intelligence Coordinating Agency (NICA) code-named SPECOBRA, the CIA and NICA have four days to locate and negate the killers before they could strike again against their next target - the President of the United States of America.

Ryder will take the readers to the intricacies of third-world counter-terrorism operations as he operates side by side with Eric Madrid, head of SPECOBRA, and with his seven-man special operations team.

Dedication

This blog novel is dedicated to Joan, Hannah, Caleb and Sarah - my inspiration and my reason to succeed; you are joy to my life and blessings from God.

Pointers on Terrorism and Terrorists

Terrorism is a crime against all civilization. Terrorism is a crime against all humanity. It knows no ethnic, religious or other national or geographic boundaries, and we must see it in that context.
- Colin Powell, former Secretary
US Department of State
2001

We are not fighting so the enemy will offer us something. We are fighting to wipe out the enemy.
- Hussein Massawi, Former Hezbollah Leader
2004