A few weeks back, another batchmate went ahead to join our Creator. Tragic as it was, especially for the bereaved imemdiate family, the wife and daughter left behind, and us, his "co-poklats" who was with him all throughout the grueling "Academy days" - four years that it was - the failures, the triumphs, the humiliation of being underclassmen, the glory of upperclassmen. Who was with him as we negotiated the ladders of our careers - the excitement, the adrenalin rush of the fledgling junior deck officer, the pride of a first senior management promotion, ultimately the prestige of being Masters and Chief Engineers, or as corporate executives.
Browsing through the gray and gold "HELM 96," I was time-travelling, reminiscing the nostalgic days when we first walked the planks, ready to face the turbulence, the uncertainty of the seas ahead.
This "PROLOGUE" and 'EPILOGUE" is exactly a "copy/paste" (minus the formatting) of the one I wrote for our "HELM 96" (the PMMA graduating class yearbook) thirteen years ago. Re-written as a tribute to all brothers within the Academy and the whole maritime industry
PROLOGUE
by Midshipman Pelibert Sanchez, June 1996
What reasons could a man, behind the bleak
shadows of dawn, possess...
What could be the elusive target he so
stubbornly scours...
What could be that occult force,
that takes him...
...to the farthest reaches of his endurance,
where rest and sweat are but one...where
anything that moves is saluted...where time
is measured not by hours, but by each passing
day as he slumps back in that familiar bunk
after the sound of T.A.P.S., where his actions
are always taken by the number, each move
having a definite, distinct count?...
...to immolate the boy in himself, keeping
calls of nostalgia at bay, as he painstakingly
trudges on with the seemingly endless routines,
the brawls of the upperclassmen, the exacting
training - of the mind, and the body, and
sanity itself, for one year as a plebe?
then...
...to brave the foam, the fury of the breakers
...the perils contingent to floating amidst
endless spans of sea, without a single speck
of land, thousand of miles around?...
and when in port...
...to face the challenge, the confusion of
tongues foreign to him, and strange peoples,
and cultures?...and then...
...to be home once more, the home called the
Academy...now a leader, an authority of
his time... where his words, once as utterances
of perfect submission, now transformed into
languages of command, of guidance, of
imperturbable decisions, of respect?...
EPILOGUE
...it is the call of the sea
...the lures of the deep much farther than
any eye can behold!...
...Or is it, the mystery that lies behind
remote, distant lands, behind bizarre
peoples, behind nondescript jargon...
...or the challenge of the rifle, in response
to a call of duty, as sons indebted to
his country, Naval officers...
...and the SWORD...the call of responsibility,
of leadership. Of the will of a leader.
A guiding hand to a subordinate. Leadership
that would lead men and machines from
all corners of the globe...
...and the unfaltering conviction that somehow,
the bleak shadows of dawn shall flourish,
the sun shall rise high enough 'till all shadows
shall have gone, illuminating myriads
of men in uniform...
...from the merchant marine and naval professions
when one day, they shall once again
leaf through this book ... reminiscing...
CAPT PAX SANCHEZ
PMMA - GS (MMET)
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