I absorbed the current situations, my mind already trying to change from the political mess to the raw hardware left at our disposal.
"Well, now we know we can't rely on reinforcements that aren't coming," I said, leaning forward over the dirt table. "So we use what's already anchored to the mud. Colonel, do we still have any functioning artillery pieces or heavy lantakas left in this sector that the General didn't requisition for his ride to Pampanga?"
Román nodded slowly, a weary look in his eyes. "We have a few. A couple of old Spanish breech-loaders and few heavy bronze lantakas tucked behind the secondary redoubt. But as I told you before, Valerian, we barely have the proper shell casings for them, and the crews are demoralized."
I reached into my breast pocket, pulled out a small, folded piece of paper I had drafted earlier, and handed it across the table to him. "Not if we position them here."
Román unfolded the paper, his eyes scanning the crude map coordinates and the specific tactical layout I had sketched. As he read, his eyebrows climbed higher and higher, his jaw subtly tightening until he looked back up at me, a mix of disbelief and sudden realization washing over his face.
"Oh no, you don't mean to..." Román trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the paper.
A cold, sharp smile touched my lips. "Yes, Colonel. We will use them exactly like that."
Román stared at the paper for a moment longer, letting out a long, exhaled breath that was half-laugh, half-disbelief. "This is madness, Valerian. It's completely unheard of, even Luna is not expecting this approach."
"Right now, what do we call? Unorthodox? Yeah, unorthodox is the only reason my men are still breathing, sir," I countered smoothly. "If we're going to execute this, we need the secondary line synchronized with our front. We need Teniente Todri for this operation."
Román folded the paper back up and tucked it into his tunic. "Well, if he's needed, then I'll have him brought to the command post immediately."
Anya looked at me, and look at the paper..she whistled. "Now that's some madness, Val".
~~
Teniente Todri sat inside his cramped shelter at the secondary line, nursing a tin cup of lukewarm coffee while trying to make sense of the distant, ominous rumble of American logistics across the river. The sudden departure of General Luna's train had sent a ripple of quiet panic through the rear ranks, and Todri was doing his best to keep his remaining companies from melting into the night.
The canvas flap of his tent was suddenly thrown open. A breathless orderly saluted sharply.
"Teniente Todri! Colonel Román requires your immediate presence at the command post. It's urgent, sir."
Todri set his cup down, his stomach dropping. Has the line already collapsed?
He quickly buckled his sidearm and followed the runner through the dark, humid bamboo trails until they reached the stone convent housing the command post. Inside, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Maps were sprawled across the main table, and Colonel Román was waiting alongside Valerian and Anya.
"Todri, sit," Román ordered, gesturing to the table. "Things have gotten complicated. General Luna has departed for Pampanga, and it also means reinforcements are coming."
Todri's face went pale. "No reinforcements? Colonel, if the Americans hit the center with those artillery, I can't even…"
"I know," Román cut him off smoothly. "Which is why Sarhento Valerian here has proposed an alternative defensive plan. And whether we like it or not, your sector is going to be crucial if we want the defense to be a success."
Román pulled out Valerian's folded paper and laid it flat on the table, pointing to the specific markers and the assignment detailed for Todri's men and the leftover artillery.
Todri leaned over the table, his eyes darting across the lines and symbols. As the full scope of Valerian's idea clicked in his mind, Todri's eyes widened in sheer shock. He looked up at me, then back at the map, then at Román, his voice dropping to a stunned whisper.
"Valerian... are you completely out of your mind?!" Todri gasped. "If this fails, we won't just lose the bridgehead—we'll be wiped off the map!"
"And if we do nothing, we get turned into paste by their artillery anyway, so either the defense holds or we die trying." I replied, my voice dead steady in the dim lantern light. "So, Teniente... are you in?"
Todri stared at the map for five long seconds, then let out a defeated, breathless chuckle, rubbing his tired face.
"God help us all," Todri muttered. "Tell me what you need."
~~
The night air hung thick and heavy over the camp as we stepped out of the command post, the distant rumble of American logistics across the river a constant, ticking clock.
As the situation had changed,we decide to adjust strategies to compensate any losses. While Todri and I mobilized the veterans with my squads combine to relocate the old Spanish breech-loaders and two heavy bronze lantakas that we had took out from the main command. Not gonna lie, doing this without drawing american's attention which few kilometres ahead is an agonizing work.
"Muzzles down! Proceed with caution!" Todri barked in a harsh whisper, his men straining against the wooden carriage wheels as we hauled one of the bronze cannons into a hidden, carved-out recess behind a thick grove of bamboo.
We didn't set them up on the open parapet. Instead, we tucked them low, masked by woven nipa mats, elephant grass, and rotted logs, zeroed in flat along the narrow approach road at point-blank range.
However, watching a newly promoted Sergeant direct the placement of the sector's heavy hardware didn't sit well with everyone.
As we secured the second lantaka, a group of veteran NCOs from the secondary line approached the redoubt, led by a scarred Sarhento whose face was twisted in silent resentment. They had been watching Valerian's squad receive specialized sidearms, clear authority over working details, and direct access to Colonel Román.
"Sarhento Valerian," the scarred NCO grunted, stepping into the lantern light with his arms crossed. "Mind telling us why a fresh hotshot from the capital is giving orders to men who've been bleeding in these trenches since '96? Since when does a squad of recruits get officer weapons and dictate where the heavy guns go?"
The air tightened instantly. Pasco and Sanchez shifted subtly, their hands drifting toward their belts, but before the friction could ignite, a voice cut through the dark.
"He dictates it because I ordered him to, Sarhento," Colonel Román said, stepping out from the shadows of the bamboo trail.
The NCOSs snapped back to attention, their jaws remains set as the Colonel Paco walked up to the group. His posture remains rigid, scanning the disgruntled veterans with such calm authority. Thanks to General Luna always delegates it to Roman, he gets used to it already.
"Gentlemen, you've all fought bravely for this Republic," Román said, his voice dropping into a steady, persuasive register. "And I understand your pride. But right now, General Luna is in Pampanga, which means, there will be no reinforcements coming, his skirmishers are now gone, and an American division is staging across the river. Sarhento Valerian isn't getting 'special treatment'—he's being given the hardest, most dangerous seat at the table. If his placement of these guns fails, his squad takes the first blow. If it succeeds, every man in this sector lives to see tomorrow. I suggest you save your fight for the blue coats across the water."
The scarred Sarhento looked at Román, then at the meticulously concealed cannon, and finally at Valerian's dead-steady expression. The tension slowly drained from his shoulders.
"Understood, Colonel," the NCO muttered, saluting stiffly before leading his men back to their watch posts.
Once the NCOs dispersed, Román gestured for Valerian and Anya to step aside, out of earshot of the working details.
"There's one more thing, Valerian," Román said, pulling a sealed letter from his tunic. "A courier arrived from Malolos right before the telegraph lines went silent. It's from Don Teodoro itself."
I raised an eyebrow. "Don Teodoro?"
"The Don has been aware about the mobilization," Román explained quietly. "He sent word that his family maintains three secondary storage depots tucked away along the local rails between here and the capital. It's up to us to 'requisition' whatever unused crates sit inside —uniforms, field rations, and extra ammunition blocks."
I stared at Colonel,. More hidden supplies from the Santos network. It was a massive windfall, but the reality of our timeline immediately checked my excitement.
"Requisitioning them now?" I asked, keeping my voice calm despite the shock. "Colonel, the Americans are two kilometres out and preparing to strike at any time. Can we actually haul those crates here in time?"
Román let out a tired, pragmatic breath, shaking his head. "Unfortunately,it would be not all of them. The distance is just an estimation, we have to do it the hard way, using the sign Teodoro's men had done, and moving heavy crates back and forth in the dark consumes time we simply do not have. I've dispatched a small searching team to search until the closest depot near Calumpit station, but whatever they bring back will be a secondary bonus. Our main defense relies entirely on what we've built in these trenches tonight."
I looked out toward the dark, silent riverbank, my hand resting on my sidearm. "Fair enough, Colonel. We stick to the plan. Let the team bring what they can—we'll be waiting in the mud."