The Saga of Cadet Soldier: The Beginning

"I am but a plebe, a pledging, a good for nothing,

With not in my head but vacuum and nothing to do
but trip and fall and perpetrate infinitesimal mistakes."

- Stupid, COCC plebe knowledge

It's been 26 months since I joined the Cadet Officer Candidacy Course, or COCC for short. 26 months of trials, tortures, and tribulations. This is my story.

Chapter 1: The Beginning

June, 2008. A cloudy day.

The bell has rung, signifying the start of recess. My classmates, still high from the Summer hype, divided and huddled into different groups of close peers. I, of course, was no different. My friends began telling each other their Summer experiences while I listened on and made an occasional joke to keep myself in the conversation. Yeah, when you have no "Summer experiences" to narrate, it would be hard to keep up with the crowd.

Enter Lorenzo Miguel Samonte, 3G. It seemed he was going classroom to classroom looking for new recruits for the COCC. Since I foresaw nothing special or exciting in my Junior High life, and since I was bored out of my wits, I decided to join this anyway, along with a close friend of mine. Little did I know what I got into...

I was told to report to classroom 4G for a "meeting." Samonte gave me, my close friend, Kenoy Martinez, and a former classmate and fellow batchmate, Aldous Hizon, a quick tutorial on the most basic yet one of the most important lessons in the COCC: how to stand at attention. Stomach in, chest out, shoulders back, tiger look, feet creating a 45 degree angle, clenched fists above the seams of my pants, chin slightly up, and of course, mouth shut.

And there I was, just in front of the blackboard of 4G, doing my best to execute just that, although looking back, I was very sloppy that time. I saw a high school student in my peripheral vision approaching towards us. He was no taller than me, and had a light mustache going on for him. As he came closer he looked drowsy, like Tracy McGrady: his eyebags were more visible than the average guy. His hands were behind his back, his head slightly tilted as he walked by us.

His name was Vittorio Rendor, but recognized by us then as Cadet Major Rendor. He was the Wing Commander of Citizenship Advancement Training batch 2009.

I didn't realize.

"Alam niyo ba kung ano'ng ginagawa niyo dito? (Do you know what you're doing here?)" Said he. "Alam niyo ba kung ano ang COCC? (Do you even know what the COCC is?)" There was silence, because honestly, I didn't know the answer to both those questions.

He went straight to the point. "Gusto niyo ba sumali dito?" Our answer: "Opo. (Yes)" Of course, we didn't know how to reply back to our superiors that time, so he corrected us. We replied again: "Ginoo, opo, Ginoo. (Sir, yes, sir.)"

He asked us if we wanted an initiation. All of us said yes, for reasons I still cannot remember. He told us to drop. "Drop?" I thought. We didn't know what to do, so we still stood there like dumbasses until Samonte gave us a hint. We all dropped in front of the Wing Commander. "Sinabi niyo ah. (You asked for it.) Do 500 push ups."

And so we did. At least, we tried to do. By my 50th push, my arms were starting to hurt. Yes, I was weak that time. It was obvious the others were also exhausted. We teens from the upper half weren't used to this kind of workout.

As I did push ups, another batch, the members of the NCOCC's were also doing what we're doing. They were another special flight. Wearing blue jeans, a garrison belt and a white shirt, complete with CAT pin, rosary, tickler notebook, handkerchief and black ballpen, they seemed to have prior experience before that day. Indeed they had, remembering my conversations with Diego Nepomuceno, an ex-COCC who accompanied me to Germany. He was actually one of the primary influences of my decision to join (Still, the real reason of my decision was that I was just bored).

Sweat covered the floor. Sweat drenched our high school uniforms. Sweat glistened down our body like a river under the noonday Sun. I reached somewhere above 300 push ups. the others didn't do as well, but it didn't matter hell to anybody. He told us to stand at attention once again. His intimidating and powerful overall presence lied beneath the otherwise mundane exterior. Without any recognition whatsoever he told us to report to a multi-purpose building (locally known as the Information Technology Center... I think) the day after for some briefing and told us to fall out and disappear from his sight. Hell had just begun.

We retreated to the nearest bathroom, checking out how we looked after the ordeal. The mirror confirmed what we already knew: bloodshot eyes sweaty body, and the telltale expression of pain on our faces. Our mouth gaping open from difficult breathing, our back slumped, our body leaning on the sink counter, and our spirit drained dry, we now had a taste of what we had gotten into.

That day, I learned to respect and fear Sir Rendor. That day, I still did not realize the extent of my physical and mental exhaustion I would get into in the coming months. That day, I made a decision I would never regret.