The recruits had already been standing for about two hours by the time we started setting up.
Several desks were placed facing the recruits. I asked the help of two clerks already working in the Casa Real to man the enlistment tables. I also tapped the town doctor to assist with basic medical screening. The rest of the crew consisted of the NCOs from my escolta.
The boxes and crates containing the uniforms and gear were brought out and laid behind the desks. The recruits stirred with excitement at the sight, those in the back rows craning their necks for a better glimpse. The soldiers keeping guard barked rebukes to maintain their formation.
But before anything could begin, there had to be a speech. They needed to understand the significance of their decision to come here—and the consequences that came with it.
Once again, I mounted my horse. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think of myself as Napoleon, even if only in passing.
I wore my khaki general’s uniform—the same one from the dance and the parade—complete with gold-plated regalia and red-and-gold shoulder straps. I was reminded that I needed a saber to complete the look. It was an outfit the town, and certainly these recruits, had never seen before. I could see it in their eyes—they were impressed.
Pompous, maybe... but leadership needed to inspire. The higher they thought of me, the better.
I had my horse prance before the formation, making eye contact with as many recruits as I could. My escorts called for silence.
"You have crossed a line!" I shouted, and I liked how my voice echoed across the quiet plaza.
"And you crossed it with your own two feet. You ignored the warning that suffering awaits you, and now, there is no turning back."
"From now on, you will wake up before the sun rises. You will eat only when told. You will march in the scorching heat or the shivering cold when told. You will crawl like worms in the mud when told. You will fire when told. You will die when told."
I paused, a bit taken aback by the severity of my own words. But I realized I had only spoken the truth. Someday, I might really order them to their deaths. I had taken such orders myself—and we were supposed to be the superior force in both wars I’d fought in.
But there was no need to worry. My audience was full of young men eager to prove themselves. The more extreme the message, the more fired up they became. It was clear from the way they beamed at what was meant to be a somber line.
"The peace will not hold with the Americans. They did not come as liberators but as would-be overlords." I dropped my voice. "If you wish to be the sword and shield of our Republic, you must endure the heat of the furnace and the beating of the hammer."
"Will you endure?" I suddenly shouted.
"Opo, Heneral!" came the resounding reply—so loud it nearly knocked me off my horse.
---
After the speech, the enlistment process began.
Recruits were called in batches of ten. Their first stop was at the enlistment desks, where the clerks asked for their names and either their signatures or thumbmarks. They were also asked basic questions about their skills and literacy to identify potential NCOs—or even officer candidates.
They then proceeded to the town doctor, who performed brief visual checks for obvious signs of illness. In a more conventional army, we would’ve done full physicals, but we lacked a proper medical crew—and more importantly, we couldn’t afford to be too selective. We needed every man we could get.
After the screening, they moved to Vicente’s oath-taking corner. The crude Philippine flag hanging from the Casa Real’s balcony had been taken down and fastened to a long pole for the occasion. Rodrigo the cochero was assigned to hold the wrinkled Bible.
They recited a simple yet powerful oath, crafted by Vicente himself:
"I swear before this sacred Bible and my fellow soldiers,
that I shall defend the Republic of the Philippines,
with my life, my honor, and my strength.
I shall obey the orders of my commanders,
and fight without fear,
for liberty, justice, and the dignity of our people.
I pledge my loyalty to the cause of freedom,
and I shall never falter in my duty,
no matter the cost.
So help me God."
The boy did have a gift for words—he ought to, given how much he read. Sadly, the beauty and gravity of the oath were lost on most of them. Their eyes were glued to what awaited them at the next station.
The gear had exhausted the sizeable purse I had given Francisco Lim—even after he’d offered an uncharacteristically low fee. I had made sure each recruit received a complete soldier’s kit. The only items I didn’t pay for were the tunic and trousers. The rest—the Baliwag hat, cloth belt, bamboo canteen, blanket roll, and leather boots—came from my own coffers.
It was almost worth the expense, seeing how the recruits received their kits like excited children. Most of them had never even worn shoes in their lives. But the purpose went beyond putting smiles on their faces. I wanted them to understand how serious this organization they were joining truly was.
The final station was for platoon sorting. I had stripped my escolta of all its NCOs—the two sergeants and two corporals—to serve as temporary platoon leaders. Accordingly, the recruits were divided into four platoons.
The enlistment process went far more smoothly than I had anticipated. Much of the credit went to the Bulaceño soldiers, who treated their roles with seriousness and kept everything running in an orderly manner.
By early afternoon, I had a hundred recruits in the plaza, fully clothed in uniform. The only thing missing were the rifles—which they would have to earn.
Standing on the balcony, looking down at the neat formation of fresh recruits, I reminded myself not to count eggs before they hatched.
The real test—the training—was still to come.