My Life and Experience

Written by Eulogio Villa Urbina

Even though there is nothing extraordinary about the history and experience of my humble life, I still strove to write this as a souvenir of my glorious past and as a personal hobby of my clan. I am not a writer so I beg whoever reads this to pardon the possible lack of beautiful and eloquent sentences which may be found in the work of a true writer. As I have mentioned above, this is purely personal.

I was born on the 11^th day of March in the year eighteen seventy two (1872) in the town of Pantabangan, province of Nueva Ecija, Archipelago of the Philippines, the natural child of the married couple Gillermo Villa y Barcelo (aka Kabesang Imong) and Hospicia Urbina y Villaflor, who both hailed from Pantabangan, Nueva Ecija. My fraternal grandfather and grandmother were Esteban Villa and Regina Barcelo. My maternal grandmother and grandfather were Segunda Urbina and Alejandro Villaflor (who for several years was a teacher in the school of this town.)

I was born and raised in the home of my fraternal grandfather (whose nickname in the town is Kapitan Teban ) so I had the opportunity to be raised almost purely in the cradle of his love. From my childhood, he spoke to me in the Spanish language. He probably did so not in rejection of the Tagalog language but more to prepare me to be schooled in that language because at that time, the Spaniards ruled the Philippine Archipelago.

Grandpa Logio schooling in Letran

I arrived in Manila on December 29, 1884, after several days of walking, because in those days, there were no wheeled vehicles with tires yet like those we have now.

In May, 1885 I told the priest that I intend to study come June, but he said that I may not be able to pass the entrance exam. Better for me to review first and enroll next year. I did not reply which he took to mean that I agreed with his suggestion, so he even gave me money to buy reviewer books. Meanwhile, my companions in the Franciscan convent took the entrance test, which they passed. I had an inkling that I was not too far behind them. The only thing that was keeping me was the decision of the priest that I should review first because I may not be able to make it otherwise. Three days prior to the deadline for taking the entrance test, I was extremely bothered and thought it cowardice on my part not to take a chance on the entrance test. Another thing, what can I tell my parents if I will not be studying? Because of this, I decided to take the test the following day; and this was what happened; after the priest had taken breakfast and I was done with my chores, I went to the College of San Juan de Letran, registered for the entrance test and paid the fifty centavo fee. After a few minutes, we were called to the testing room where we took the test. There were more than thirty of us. After three hours we were through with the test. We were told that the results will be posted on the bulletin board the next day. I went back to the convent, but did not tell the priest about taking the test.

I went to the College the following day to find out the test results. When I got to the College, I went close to the bulletin board and saw that I got the second to the highest score in the test. I was full of happiness, an indescribable happiness that I cannot write down on this paper. This was the first triumph of my life and also the triumph of my late grandfather Esteban Villa (God Bless him) because crucial to my triumph was his having taught me the Spanish language. I went to the convent drunk with happiness, I was talking to myself on the way and what I was saying was “I already have good news to write to my parents”, which I hope will considerably lessen their pain of my separation from them.

The following morning, while the priest was having breakfast and I saw that he was in a good mood, I told him this: “Father, the other day, my companions here in the convent enticed me to take the entrance test of the College of San Juan de Letran. They told me it was ther last day for taking the test. I was not able to ask your permission because you were still lecturing in your class. I took the entrance exam.” Immediately he asked: “ Did you pass?” I replied, with a hint of pride , “Yes, Father, and I got the second to the highest score!” He looked at me and smiled, then went on with his breakfast.

After the priest had taken his breakfast and I had tidied up after him, he summoned me and asked what books I need and the number of items in my wardrobe. I told him the books I need and the number of items in my wardrobe. After which he opened his box, took out some money, gave me fifty pesos and instructed me to buy the books I need and clothes to wear to school. If you do not know how to shop, ask someone to help you, he added.

That fifty pesos was more than enough for all of my needs, so I tried to return the over ten pesos excess to the priest which he did not accept . He said I will need that some other time.

In the month of June of that year (1885), I was included among the students of San Juan de Letran as a freshman.

All of these happenings I wrote to my parents.

In March of the following year (1886) , after taking the final exams, I asked the priest for permission to go on vacation and visit Pantabangan and he granted it.

I went on vacation. I was ecstatic! How happy were my parents, my relatives and my childhood friends.

In the month of May of this year (1886), I left Pantabangan again to resume my studies. This time, I noticed that my parents had mixed feelings of happiness and sadness upon my departure, unlike the first time when they felt only sorrow.

In the year 1887, I was not able to take a vacation because the priest whom I am serving was always sick. However, I wrote my parents that I was already in my third year.

In the month of December of this year, the priest whom I was serving unfortunately died. Due to this, I had to leave the Franciscan Convent. It was a good thing that the priest had left me the amount of seventeen pesos and fortunately, his death happened during the school break.

Grandpa Logio: Earning a Living

A few days after leaving the Franciscan Convent, I met on the road a friend and classmate, Felix Gramonte, son of Captain Gramonte of Ermita. After our initial greetings, I confided to him my unavoidable dropping out of school because the priest who was sponsoring my schooling passed away. Felix was touched by my predicament so he informed me that many Barangay Captains go to their house to have the census list of their constituents done by his father and they pay twenty five pesos per finished list. “If you are able to do that, you can earn your tuition for next schoolyear”, Felix said, and added, “Come with me to our house so you can see.” I went with him.

When we arrived at their house, Felix introduced me to his father and also told him about my current situation and need. He further suggested that if I am able to, perhaps I can do some of the lists. Captain Gramonte sensed the deep concern of his son for my welfare, so he immediately got one list, gave me instructions on the procedure to be followed, and asked if I can do it. I replied that I can do it. He directed me to start.

Henceforth, I stayed on the job and was even invited to live in their house.

My knowledge of the Spanish language and my skill in writing contributed to my success in making those lists because they are written in Spanish. I was able to finish one list in triplicate in six to seven days.

What I earned in making those lists was enough to support me through my third year of school.

During the school vacation of 1888, I worked for a living so I can enroll again upon school opening.

I joined the jeweler Benito Ulman who went around the whole of Batangas province. I also went with roving magician entertainers showing various magic tricks.

When school opened in June, 1888, I enrolled in my 4^th year. But after four months, I ran out of money to pay for my room and board, so I asked them not to serve me breakfast anymore. Since then, I went to school without taking breakfast. If I am lucky to take breakfast, it is nothing more than a coin’s worth each of bread (pandesal) and soy custard (taho) or sweetened peanuts. A coin during the Spanish times was change worth over a centavo now.

What I was paying my room and board only came from my working part-time at night in the theatre as a stage hand or scene shifter (tramoyista), but this was not a regular or steady source of income.

When vacation time of December 1888 came about, I went back to my work making census lists in Ermita and this income eased my financial challenge somewhat, allowing me to graduate from the equivalent of secondary or high school (Segunda Ensenanza) in the month of March, 1889.

Upon this graduation, I had wanted to go home to Pantabangan, but I did not have enough funds for the trip so I concentrated on looking for a job instead. A few days passed and I found work as a writer or scribe, copyist (escribiente) in the law office of the brilliant lawyer, Don Mariano Monroy, where I learned many things about the laws.

Grandpa Logio in the navy.

During the month of December of that year (1889), I met my friend and classmate Pablo Concepcion (who hails from Cavite) in a fiesta. After our initial exchange of greetings and news, he asked if I will go on with my studies. I answered maybe not because I have no funds available. In that case, I have a suggestion to you, he said. “What is it?” I asked. Let us enlist in the Marines so we can travel to other lands and see many things that may not be present here in our place. I reflected for a moment, after which I told him yes because I saw that he had a point there. In that case, I will wait for you at home (in Cavite) at the soonest possible time so we can enlist at the office of the Marines in the Armory. We separated after the activities of the fiesta.

After two days, I asked the permission of Atty Monroy for me to visit Cavite and he allowed me to.

I arrived in Cavite, looked for the house of friend Concepcion, and found it immediately. He was pleased with my arrival, and after the initial greetings, he asked how old I was. Seventeen, I said. In that case, your application will be rejected because the age requirement for applicants is 20 years old and above. If you can secure a residence certificate reflecting your age as 20, that would be good. I said: “I will do that.” I bid him goodbye and went back to Manila.

On the second day of my return to Manila, I went to the house of a barangay captain in Ermita and requested for the issuance of a residence certificate with my age stated as 20 years. The barangay captain declined because it is past the deadline for the issuance of residence certificates. But if you will pay me ten pesos as penalty, I will issue it to you. I immediately took the money from my pocket and handed ten pesos which he accepted to the barangay captain and then he issued me the residence certificate.

The following day I asked permission from Atty Monroy and went to Cavite. My friend Concepcion was in their house when I got there. He changed clothes and we proceeded to the office of the Marines in the Armory.

We were received by a Navy officer. We submitted our application request with supporting certificates and after a short interview, we were given our appointment papers as marines of the Navy. We were to start our tour of duty on January 1, 1890 aboard the Warship Crucero Velazco.

On the 29^th of December in the year 1889, I tendered my resignation from the office of Atty Monroy and told him that I have enlisted in the Navy. He told me that being a soldier and more specifically being a marine is a difficult undertaking and he wished that I be guided with good fortune. I thanked him and said goodbye.

I went to Cavite and stayed with friend Concepcion and on the 1^st day of 1890, I was a full-pledged marine of the Warship Crucero Velazco for a two-year tour of duty.

On the 14^th of August of that year 1890, the Crucero Velazco was tasked to sail to the Caroline Islands (Carolinas) to be part of the squadron who will fight the Caroline Islands inhabitants. We sailed from Cavite on that very same; upon reaching the port of Metalanim, we proceeded to the port of Ua, joined by the ships Antonio Munoz, Crucero Manila and Ulloua.

As soon as we reached the Port of Ua, we were immediately engaged in battle. In that instance, I was one of eight marines manning a machine gun. During that encounter, one grenade ball hit our ship near our machine gun location. When it exploded, six of my companions were hit and they died. This is the first peril that I was saved from.

The fighting with the Caroline Islands inhabitants took four full months. Involved were four warships, one battalion of prisoners who were able to take the flag of the Caroline Islands, one mounted regiment, two engineering companies, six cavalry squadrons, and seven infantry regiments.

The Moslems who fought us numbered about six thousand. There were many casualties from both sides because the fighting was frequently man to man, but we won.

After four months or by the middle of December of 1890, the Caroline Islands inhabitants were fully subdued. After one more month, or by the 15^th of January, 1891, the Crucero Velasco, Antonio Munoz and Illoua were recalled to Manila.

On the 20^th of February of that same year 1891, the Crucero Velasco was included in a squadron tasked to proceed to Shanghai, China.

I cannot recall our date of arrival in Shanghai. But after a week of our arrival in Shanghai, the Crucero Castilla and Illoua that convoyed with us returned to Manila, while the Crucero Velasco where I was on stayed in Shanghai.

In the month of October of that year (1891), I received a letter from Pantabangan which brought me the painful news that my father had been called to the womb of the Creator. He died!

I had to ask for three days’ leave from our Commandant, so I could give free rein to my grief.

After our about 15 months’ stay in Shanghai or till May of the year 1892, we were ordered to return to Manila, and towards the end of May, the Crucero Velasco arrived in Cavite , and since my two year tour of duty was up, I asked for retirement from the Armory in Cavite, and after my papers had been put in order and I got my retirement package, I went home to Pantabangan.

Grandpa Logio returns to Pantabangan, his hometown.

It was in the month of June when I arrived in Pantabangan, I cannot now recall what date and but of course the joy that filled my heart cannot be amply pictured now, the truth is, for one week upon arrival, I could not go far from our house because I could not leave my visitors who wanted news about many things.

As soon as I got the chance, my first visit was to the grave of my departed father.

After about 4 months of my fun and happy life in Pantabangan, the Spanish sergeant of the Civil Guards, Pedro Martinez, informed me that the priest is annoyed with me because first, I do not kiss the hand of the priest and second, when I talk to the priest, it is as if he is just my equal and I am not giving the priest the respect that is due to the substitute of God on earth. He was further instructed not to excuse my mistakes but rather always punish me and continuously monitor my actions because ‘that man is very dangerous.’

I thanked the sergeant and told him that when I was a small child I did kiss the hand of the priest, but now that I have grown up and have my own will, I am ashamed to kiss the hand of the priest because he might suspect that I am still a child up to now. The sergeant laughed. Regarding the respect, I continued, never did I wish to scrimp on my respect for anyone, and most especially for one who is considered the father of the soul , and when I talk to him (to the priest), I answer in well modulated tones and with absolute truth. He was being deceived by his belief.

They are really like that (the priests) said the sergeant, even in Spain they act that way, they are very demanding but are not considerate.

This Spanish sergeant became my close friend because since I arrived in Pantabangan and we got to know each other and he told me that he hailed from Andalucia, I always spoke to him in the Andaluz language, so the sergeant grew fond of me. (I learned how to speak the Andaluz language from the Andaluz marines in the Crucero Velasco.)

A few days after the conversation with the sergeant about the priest, one of my aunts showed me a letter and told me to read it. I read the letter which states this: “Maria, don’t let Eulogio go to your house, he is a bandit, a devil from hell, a sinner. Your priest.”

In the next few days I discovered two or three letters more from different houses where marriageable ladies reside which more or less had the same message as the one I first read.

The news from the sergeant as well as the letters of the priest that I have discovered were clear warnings to me that there is a black shadow of danger at my back, because in those times the pungent smell of the revolution or the revolt of the Tagalogs was brewing.

One night, I informed my mother about what is happening to me and told her that I may have to leave for a while, I am going back to Manila. After I told her this, she cried and said “ When you returned to be here with me, I believed that I was really lucky and my joy will accompany me to the grave, but that was not so, instead you will make me cry. My mother’s sorrow I almost cannot describe. In a consoling tone I told her not to worry because with the help of Our Lord God she will receive all the joy that she is looking forward to, have faith Mother, it is best that I leave for a while, because it is a thousand fold better that you have a loving son living away from you than have your beloved son forcibly separated from you. After I said that, neither of us opened our lips and only our tears spoke volumes.

There were no witnesses to this sad goodbye except the darkness of night inside the house because we turned off the lights and spoke in whispers lest we be observed.

Nobody ever saw me in the town of Pantabangan after the morrow of that night.

Grandpa Logio joins the Katipunan ng mga Anak ng Bayan

On the 21^st of October of that year (1892) I was already in Manila at the home of my friend Hermogenes Plata in Tondo.

One day I confided to Mogeng (Hermogenes) how my life went in Pantabangan and my sad goodbye with my mother.

Mogeng, instead of empathizing with my sadness, jovially said nothing more than “We will go for a walk tonight to lessen if not totally relieve you of your sad emotion.”

Sure enough, at nightfall and after we had our dinner, Mogeng invited me for a walk. We went to Barraka, a place within the district of Tondo. We entered a huge warehouse. Inside the warehouse were about thirty people most of whom were young, some were my acquaintances, whom I greeted by raising my hand and acknowledged with the same gesture, I did not dare open my mouth to greet anyone because holy silence was the order of the moment. People moved with care and conversation was entirely in whispers.

There were no seats in that warehouse except for those around two small tables where a few gentlemen were seated. The lamp was insufficient to fully light the whole warehouse.

In one of the tables, the swearing in was ongoing in front of one gentleman, and in the other table not far from the first one was the signing of one document, the ink being used was the blood taken from the left wrist of the signatory.

All that I was witnessing was full of mystery and everything happened before my very eyes in the span of maybe less than ten minutes.

In a moment, Mogeng held on to me while saying “I will now introduce you to the Supremo (Head) of the Katipunan ng mga Anak ng Bayan.” He led me to one of the tables and introduced me to one of the gentlemen there by saying “This is Mr Eulogio Villa y Urbina, one of the sons of our land who is being harassed by priests.” He introduced the gentleman with a hand gesture as “The Honorable Andres Bonifacio”. I bowed and said: “I am your very last soldier.”

“Thank you very much,” said the Supremo and asked me: “Have you already signed?”. My reply was, “Not yet.” “In that case,” he said,

“You go to the other table to do what is proper.” Both Mogeng and I bowed again to the Supremo and proceeded to the other table being presided by Mr. Teodoro Plata, brother of Mogeng, and I accomplished the signing with my blood that is termed Blood Compact in the manner I had described above and after I had listened to some instructions of Mr. Teodoro Plata, we said our goodbyes and went back home.

When we got to the house, Mogeng asked me if I was satisfied. I said “You are rational. I thank you.”

Grandpa Logio fell in love.

I continued to live in Manila and worked as a scribe or copyist in the Tondo Court where I started work on the 1^st of November of that year (1892). I served in this court until the month of June of the year 1895.

I resigned from the court because my friend Mariano Vizcarra offered me the job as sub lessor in the market at the edge of town, where I could earn two to three pesos a day , compared to the only six pesos per week plus tips that I earn at the court.

After one or two weeks of managing the market, I got to know a single lady named Vicenta Espinosa, niece of one store owner in the market at the edge of town. This lady was being wooed by the son of the Executor or Verdugo (the one who executes a person who was sentenced to death) named Engracio Fernandez, a single gentleman.

And since I was also a single gentleman, I became one of the suitors and admirers of Vicenta’s pulchritude.

Even if Engracio was the son of the Verdugo and may be considered the most handsome among Vicenta’s suitors, fate blessed me. Vicenta fell in love with me and eloped with me one night and I hid her in one room in the mezzanine of the house of Mr Venancio Reyes Bautista at the edge of town.

When Engracio learned of Vicenta’s disappearance, he was filled with rage because of his misfortune, because he had already asked for Vicenta’s hand from her aunt and he had already been accepted and supposedly the wedding date had already been set. He said he will look for her wherever it may lead and he will not allow her to fall in the hands of another no matter what happens.

After a few months without any news about Engracio and his warnings about the pursuit of Vicenta, I dared to bring her out of hiding one night when the moon was bright during the month of December of that same year (1895) to see the show (Komedya) at the district of Trozo.

After we had seen the show (Komedya), at about eleven in the evening, Vicenta and I went on our way home. We were happy and carefree and unaware that we were being tailed by the cousins Vicente and Engracio Fernandez. I learned about this after the bloody incident.

Upon arrival at home and while we had not even changed our clothes, Engracio and Vicente entered the ground floor of the house. In that instance, our housemate Pedro Beluya, who woke up when we arrived, inquired, “Who are you?” Which was answered by another question: “Where is Vicenta?” I recognized the voice as Engracio’s. “Come down here”, Vicente ordered Beluya who was standing by the door of our residence and holding the bolo which we use to chop our meat. “Get out of here!”, Beluya said, and added, “bandits!” I was inside our room at that moment and immediately I got my dagger and stationed myself at the door, my dagger in my right hand and my left hand holding on to the lock of the door. I opened the door halfway to see who was coming up. I saw Vicente jump the stairs (with only two steps) but Beluya promptly charged and gave him a severe blow to his stomach. Vicente fell to the ground. Engracio pulled Beluya who also fell to the ground. Engracio stabbed Beluya several times so he was not able to get up anymore. Afterwards, Engracio jumped the stairs. When I saw this, I opened the door wider. When Engracio saw me, he charged at me and gave me a severe blow which I blocked with the door. His knife was imbedded in the wood of the door, and before he was able to pull it out, I was able to stab him twice at his left hip. I think Engracio was weakened by his wounds, so he tried to run but when he got to the stairs, he collapsed and fell to the ground.

In the next room to ours in the mezzanine, the sleeping pregnant wife of the rig driver was awakened by the loud slam of the door when I used it as a shield when Engracio stabbed me. She opened their door and looked down at the ground floor. When she saw the corpses sprawled on the ground, she screamed, ran upstairs to the house and woke up Mang Venancio (the owner of the house). When Mang Venancio woke up, he went down to the ground floor and when he saw the corpses sprawled on the ground, he immediately went up, looked out the window, and shouted a call for help to the police. While all of these were happening in a very short time only, Vicenta and I immediately packed our clothes then quickly ran to the fields of San Lorenzo and sought refuge at the house of my friend Rufino Zafra in the site of Angiyahan, and that night I absolutely did not get any sleep.

Early next morning, I told my friend Zafra to assume my responsibilities at the market I was managing because I am leaving. I explained to him what happened. I told Vicenta I am leaving and that I will just go to Cavite.

Grandpa Logio assumes another person’s identity.

I went to the house of Kabo Doro (as popularly known) who is a retired soldier or one who had rendered twenty years of service. His current means of livelihood was to find people willing to be paid to substitute for people who were drafted as soldiers but who had no wish to serve as such.

As soon as I arrived at the house of Kabo Doro, I told him at once that I want to be a soldier if someone was in need of a substitute. He said there was and asked me if I had a baptismal certificate. My answers was: “ I have none.” “Get your baptismal certificate first,” he said. My answer was that not only was my hometown very far away but my parents may not allow me go back once I get home. Kabo Doro thought for a while and then said that somebody from Laguna was willing to pay eighty pesos for a substitute. But if you have no baptismal certificate, we will spend a lot. I asked him how much we will spend. His answer was more than ten pesos, and you have to change your name. I was very happy when I heard that because I really wanted to keep my name a secret. In that case, I said, please do what are needed and subtract all the expenses from the eighty pesos that will be paid to me, including what is commensurate to your efforts, there is nothing that we cannot agree upon, I said. I think Kabo Doro was very pleased because he immediately got hold of a baptismal certificate of a single gentleman who is supposedly already dead. The name was Ambrosio N. Ruiz, two years my junior, from Ermita, Manila. That, he declared, will be your baptismal certificate and that will be your name. My answer was yes.

Kabo Doro started preparing all the documents and after over an hour everything that needed doing was done. After we had lunch at his house we went to the General Headquarters of the Army. We presented the papers. The officer who received us read the papers, then called for the doctor and had me examined. After the doctor certified that I was physically fit, I was sworn in as a soldier of the Spanish Army in the Philippines. I would be assigned to the group of the Regimiento de Linea Legaspi No. 68 based in Jolo, Mindanao. After all of these, Kabo Doro and I bid our goodbye. We were allowed to leave but was told that Ruiz will have to sleep here at the headquarters tonight.

When we got back to the house of Kabo Doro, he gave me a little chest containing two pairs of soldier’s uniforms, one pair of shoes, one soldier’s cap, two pairs of civilian outfit, two pairs of underwear, and thirty pesos. I bid my goodbye and went back to the headquarters with my chest of clothes.

Perhaps, if Kabo Doro was very pleased that he earned money through me, the more I was overly pleased because not only would I be able to elude danger but I had clothes, shoes, money and would be able to go to a place far away and beyond the sea.

Late afternoon of that day, I went to the house we were staying in (owned by Rufino Zafra), bid him goodbye and told him that I will go because I was in a very precarious situation. He asked me where I was going and I said wherever the Lord will lead me. I approached Vicenta and told her I will be gone for a little while to let what happened to us pass. I will join the fishing in Malabon for a week at the longest, I will just bring one change of clothes, take this twenty pesos for your expenses while I am gone, don’t be sad. I lovingly kissed her, shook hands with friend Zafra and went down the stairs. I proceeded to headquarters.

The following day, we were called by the officer in charge of the headquarters and told us recruits who were going to Mindanao to get ready to board the Ship Rosario which will sail for Jolo at ten in the morning. Alll my companions became very sad and nobody was happy except me because I was getting away from danger.

The officer called for me and assigned me to take charge of my companions, there are sixteen of you and you have to get sixteen food rations for every meal from the kitchen of the ship.

Take these papers and upon arrival in Jolo, present yourselves to the Comandante Jefe del Detal and submit the papers. I gave you this assignment because you are conversant in Spanish.

We sailed at sea for three days, on the third day we disembarked at the shore of Jolo, Mindanao. I followed the instructions of the officer in Manila. We presented ourselves to the Comandante Jefe del Detal and I submitted the papers that I brought to him.

We the arrivals were divided into companies. I was assigned to the 6^th company.

When I arrived at the quarters of the 6^th company, the Sergeant who received me was Sergeant Mariano Antillon. He also hailed from Ermita, so when he read my papers he noted: “So you are also from Ermita”, but he said it in Spanish, to which my reply was yes sir.

The Sergeant asked me to take a seat and asked me about many people in Ermita to which I replied that they were all fine, but the truth was I did not know any of the people he mentioned because I was not from Ermita.

Sergeant Antillon talked to me in Spanish because many people from Ermita speaks Spanish, even if store quality Spanish only, as they say.

Suddenly I was asked if I knew how to write, my answer was yes. I was asked to write one paragraph, after which I was told to stay in the room and starting now I will be the scribe of the company. I said thank you.

The following day, Sergeant Antillon gave me the records of the soldiers of the company and after his instructions about what I should properly do, I started doing them.

By the 25^th of December in the year 1895, Christmas Day, I could already be seen leisurely walking in the streets of the town of Jolo, a full soldier, in uniform and armed with a bayonet and answering to the name Ambrosio N. Ruiz.

After a few days or on the 2^nd day of the month of January of the year 1896, one company of our regiment stationed in the place of Tataan within the territory of Jolo revolted. They killed the captain, the lieutenants, the sergeants and the Spanish recruits, and afterwards, they got on the boats and sailed to Sandakan, an English territory. The group included three soldiers and sixteen marines. The leader of that revolt was soldier Carlos Mapanoo.

When they arrived in Sandakan, the English government did not allow them to land because that was not allowed by international law.

They were followed by a warship with soldiers aboard which caught up with them on the shore of Sandakan where they were not allowed to land. When apprehended, they did not surrender but fought instead. They were all wiped out except for six wounded, one of whom was Kabo Mapanoo. All others were killed. The wounded were brought to Jolo.

Upon the arrival of the wounded in Jolo, General Arolas immediately ordered the convening or establishment of a Court of War (Consejo de Guerra). Elected judge was the Commandant Pastor Gonzales and the secretary was Captain Pedro Sanfelix.

When the investigation of the captured six plus all the men of the whole company stationed in Tataan, they needed an interpreter (the one who will translate in Spanish what the investigated will say.)

One day while I was in the room of our company doing the records, Captain Sanfelix came in, saw me writing. When I saw him, I immediately stood up with pen in my hand.The Captain asked me “What are you doing?” My answer was: “ Making the records of the soldiers”. He looked for the Sergeant. I replied that I did not know where he went but I will look for him if the Captain needs him. He said no need and then asked me: “How many Filipino dialects do you know?” I replied that I am conversant in Pampango, Ilocano and Tagalog and a little Visayan. While we were talking, the sergeant of the company arrived, immediately the captain told the sergeant that he is taking me to the office of the Court of War to be the interpreter of the soldiers under investigation. He added, I had been looking for an interpreter for two days and found one only now, and after thus saying, we were on our way.

When we arrived at the office of the Court of War, Captain Sanfelix introduced me to Commandant Gonzales and said that this is the interpreter whom I found. He is conversant in Pampango, Ilocano, Tagalog and a little Visayan. If so, have him sworn in so we can start the investigation. I was sworn in by Captain Sanfelix and afterwards we started the investigation.

We continued the investigation until mid-February of that year (1896).

Almost on the day that we finished the investigation, a warship arrived with General Emiliano Lachambre aboard. He was going to investigate the revolt that happened.

The day after the arrival of General Lachambre, the composition of the Court of War were called to bring in all the documents relating to the revolt (files). And of course I was included because I was the interpreter and I was the one who held the files.

We met the general at his office and after our courtesy call, the commandant took the files I was holding and said, “Your Excellency, here are the files we have made regarding the revolt that happened here,” while laying down the documents on top of the the table in front of the general.

The general got the files and leafed through several parts of it, and afterwards laid it down again on top of the table. I noticed one thing about that file, he said. There is no signature of the interpreter in the statement of the investigated men. We were momentarily speechless. Even so, the commandant said: “It will be signed now, Your Excellency”, and promptly ordered me to sign the statement of the investigated men.

I promptly approached the table and while in the act of taking a pen in front of the general, he suddenly stared at me and asked, “Who are you?” , I was caught by surprise and was not able to answer but the commandant who observed what transpired quickly said, “He is the interpreter, Your Excellency.” Then the General asked me again: “Are you the interpreter?” I who had recovered my composure answered: “to serve Your Excellency with full trust.” The general regarded me for a few moments and then asked the commandant, “Why is this recruit not being promoted?” while pointing at me. The commandant’s reply was: that person, Your Excellency, is a new soldier (recruit) who just came with the latest shipment only two months ago. Even then, the general said: “ I am ordering his promotion to Cabo starting today.” After saying thus, he asked me to sign.

Grandpa Logio gets promoted.

General Arolas stood up and invited Commandant Gonzales and Captain Sanfelix to go up to his house. Meanwhile, I was signing the statements.

After more or less an hour, Commandant Gonzales and Captain Sanfelix went down. By that time, I had finished signing the statements. Captain Sanfelix called me and said we may already leave. We went home together. On the way, Commandant Gonzales informed me that on Monday, I will report to the office of the detachment and work as a scribe or writer. It was Saturday that day.

During the month of April of that same year, all soldiers of the regiment underwent a training in shooting for fifteen days. This training was accomplished in all the regiments and everyone who got a grade or rating of ninety five to one hundred in shooting would be awarded with a medal. The medal would be inscribed ‘Sharpshooter of _______’ depending upon the location of the training, for example I in Mindanao, the inscription in my medal was ‘Sharpshooter of Mindanao’. I was one of the lucky medal recipients with a rating of 97.

During the month of September of that year (1896) the secret news spread that the Katipunan ng mga anak ng bayan were already revolting, and in Manila and in the Tagalog provinces, the uprising was already widespread.

Due to these news, Sergeant Antillon and I frequently talked in secrecy. Because we belonged to the same company, we had ample opportunity to communicate, until we came to the understanding that we were both members of the Katipunan ng mga anak ng bayan.If so, Sergeant Antillon said, as a first step, let us find out who among our companions also belong to the Katipunan, because I am certain there will be some. This was our agreement.

The following month of October we already had over thirty sympathizers most of whom were really members of the Katipunan ng mga anak ng bayan.

During the first days of November 1896, the ship Rosario, nearly full of people deported from Manila berthed in Jolo.

Sergeant Antillon and I and a few companions very carefully talked to the deportees. We learned from them the big progress of the revolution. Based on that, we planned to revolt on Christmas Day or the 25^th of December and we sealed this agreement.

I immediately created a code for communication in writing so that if a letter is intercepted, the message will not be understood. I made this by changing the meaning of the letters.

Everyone was ready for the uprising. We were just waiting for the set day and time.

On the 22^nd day of December 1896, a woman named Maria, wife of the soldier Pedro Bustamante who hails from Iba, Zambales, went to the house of the barber of General Arolas to get the flat iron that the barber’s wife borrowed several days before. The wife of the barber requested that she not give the flat iron back yet because she still had many clothes to iron. But Maria was unduly insistent in retrieving the flat iron so the barber’s wife was very curious and asked Maria why when it was not in her nature to be so. To get her flat iron, Maria was forced to confess to the barber’s wife, in a whisper, that “The soldiers will have an uprising on Sunday (25^th of December).” Upon hearing this, the barber’s wife gave Maria the flat iron and she also packed. It was Friday that day.

The following day, Saturday, was the schedule of the haircut of the general.

The barber went to the house of the general and while cutting his hair, he mentioned that his wife had news that the soldiers will revolt on Sunday. As soon as he heard that news, he got up and did not finish the haircut.

Grandpa Logio suffers in prison.