The Pint-Sized Piloto

Mayday

December 12, 1941

They were losing. Within 48 hours, the 6th Squadron has lost half of its pilots. Lt. Barria and Lt. Jose have crashed and were missing still.

The pilots knew the end was near. But Joaquim who had bravely fought off wave after wave of enemy planes had stuck with the promise he made to himself to turn every damn Japs back to where they came from….

By then, he has become a local hero overnight, along with Capt. Villamor. At dinner time, they were celebrated and toasted by Batangenos. They pray for his safety, calling for the saints to spare this crazy, stubborn pilot who never gives up. 

After days of combat, he was now fighting fatigue. His Peashooter was barely air-worthy. Iron patches had been welded to cover bullet holes. It’s quite a feat that it can still fly. Even more so, it’s incredible its pilot still had the determination to fly in the face of defeat.

Another wave of bandits has been spotted approaching from Cavite, peppering the sky from the east. Joaquim knew they were going to converge on Batangas airfield and erase it from the face of the earth. It was time to fight again. And stall them. Delay whatever objective they had for the day.

Curiously, no one hurried up to their planes. The pilots walked briskly, almost mechanically. By then, it has become routine. Sure, somebody said this might be a suicide mission, but they’ve been nearly suicidal since Monday. They’ve become numb with the concept of death.

Joaquim wheeled his plane into position and was about to take off until, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clara and Isabelle standing on the edge of the field. He put on the breaks and then left the propeller spinning. The enemy bandits can wait. He just needed to tell his family it was going to be okay.

When Joaquim disembarked, Isabelle ran toward him. He hugged his daughter.

“Papa, don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he assured her. “I’ll just need to fly for a short while, make a circle and get back to you.”

“Promise?”

“I do. And I’ll get you a puppy on Christmas.”

Isabelle brightened up a bit.

When Clara caught up with them, she didn’t show fear or sorrow for having to bid him good luck. Whoever said this was goodbye? Joaquim believed he will return safely home.

No one’s going to shoot me down. It was another foolish myth.

“I understand what you need to do,” she said firmly. “I know you are your father’s son. Seeing things through the end runs in your blood…. But if you can’t…. If it’s too much. You need to be the one to turn back. Land your plane somewhere and retreat to Taal…. We’ll find a way to survive.”

“I will.”

“Before you go,” Clara quickly added. “I want you to wear this amulet. It will bring all the luck you need.”

She hung a string on his neck. It had a gem in it. Instantly, its color turned maroon.

Joaquim smiled. “Serve me up some Bulalo for dinner, and let’s have Lechon for Christmas. okay, darlin’?”

Clara chuckled at the idea. She kissed him on the forehead.

Isabella gave a brave salute to his father, to which Joaquim proudly returned in kind. She too was as brave as her mother.

“I love you both.”

It seemed this goodbye appeared as normal as it could get, but this moment was the most difficult thing Joaquim had to overcome. He steeled himself to proceed for the take-off. Anything less than an iron heart and a resolute mind and he would have dropped everything and ran away with his family.

But he made an oath. He had a job to do. And he’s not missing his last day of work.

 ***

Joaquim did a recon north of Batangas, while Lt. Cesar Basa scanned east. Radio and telegrams warned them that more Japanese formations were coming and needed to be spotted before they get to the base. This way, they could radio back and assemble the rest of their squadron on the bandits as soon as possible. They’ve been doing this dance for three days. It has paid off so far.

After an hour, Lt. Basa radioed promptly.

“Fuel’s low. I’m returning to base.”

“I’ll do one more round to make sure,” Joaquim radioed back.

“Be careful not to burn too much fuel,” Lt. Basa instructed.

Joaquim checked his fuel line. It was still half full. He did another round and flew over Taal Lake. As he turned back south, quick, multiple taps took out his right aileron, puncturing holes the size of ten centavo coins. It effectively rendered his plane unable to roll. Suddenly, a black Japanese Fighter 100 streaked from below him, leaping from his right.

“Where the hell did you come from?!”

As Joaquim was about to throttle his plane to give chase, more bullets hailed on his plane’s undercarriage. Some punctured through. One hit his leg. Another nicked his left shoulder. The pain was nearly unbearable. Joaquim looked over his cockpit and saw about five bandits approaching him from below. He swiveled to south back to the airfield and grabbed up the radio.

“Mayday! Mayday!” he screamed to base. “They’re approaching from the northeast! Mayday! Mayday! 

Now, Joaquim looked behind and saw ten, twenty planes on his tail.

“Hold on!” he told himself.

He pushed his throttle to maximum and climbed the steepest climb that he could make, hoping the bandits wouldn’t bother to run him down. Then, glancing out from his cockpit, he spotted it…. the largest Japanese formation ever mad: black dots that blotted the sky. Fighters and bombers. More and more of them appeared on the horizon. It was as if the Japanese sent everything they had to finish them off…. Let them be done with the last Filipino squadron.

Truly, it was the end.

Blood was gushing on Joaquim’s leg and could barely move it. He wrapped his neck scarf around it.

As he leveled his plane just above 20,000 ft., he heard another round of bullets scream past him. Three planes had appeared. They fired again. This time they hit everything. The elevators, the rudders. Nothing was responding. The skin of his right-wing peeled off. Now he was a dead weight. Joaquim waited for the bandits to pull the trigger on him.

Suddenly, Joaquim heard a radio call and saw one of the Peashooters on a fast approach.

“Glad you’ve held this far,” Lt. Basa shouted.

Lt. Basa aimed his plane toward the aggressors and punctured their formation. The Japanese planes scrambled and flew away… at least for the moment.

The Lieutenant then banked sideways and caught up with Joaquim. They were flying side by side.

“I thought you were out of fuel?” Joaquim asked.

“I know,” Lt. Basa said. “But there’s no chance in hell I’d go back and leave you behind, kumpare. Besides, it’s better to die shooting down these sons-of-bitches than fly away, isn’t it?”

 “It’s been an honor flying with you, Lieutenant,” said Joaquim.

They saluted each other.

The Japanese fighters circled back and were now giving chase. At once, Lt. Basa curved away to meet them head-on. He managed to scare off one of them, before a bandit from his five, dashed in, fired, and critically damaged his engine.

Though smoke filled up his cockpit, Lt. Basa managed to return to base and land. But he has become a lure. Now, the fighters have tracked the airfield and converged on it.

Not content that they were to shoot Lt. Basa’s plane down, two Japanese fighters unloaded their guns to the ground and hit his Peashooter, turning it into scrap metal, before it exploded. But that wasn’t enough. They circled back and spotted the Lieutenant running for the trees. They strafed him with columns of bullets, killing him.

The boys on the ground witnessed the atrocity. One of them grabbed to radio and described what had happened to the Lieutenant.

“NO!” Joaquim blasted.

“It’s time for our squadron to disperse,” Captain Villamor called in. “I’m proud of you boys for taking the fight this long. Pack up. We’ll fight another day.”

“You’re all ordered to land your planes to wherever you see fit and burn them. Don’t let those J-holes get anyone of you. Rendezvous in Calamba.”

Joaquim knew he could not fulfill the Captain’s order. He was flying on a slow descent. But he has lost control. Worst, he knew he had to break his promise to Clara. It has been too much. But he couldn’t turn back simply because of mechanical failure. His left ailerons and flaps have broken off

Joaquim closed his eyes and made a quick prayer, asking for God to protect his family, to shelter them... to give them refuge.

“Forgive me Clara, Isabelle.”

Finally, two black Japanese planes in front of Joaquim sprayed a round of bullets. He felt them hit his arms and his shoulder. His Peashooter nosed down and Joaquim faced the inevitable head-on collision to earth.

***

A few minutes later, following the crash, right smack in the middle of the jungle, Joaquim became a dwende.