While I was stationed in Subic Bay Philippine Islands I made friends with some Filipino's from a nearby village. After months of seeing the violent and very poor side of their country, I put some money together and gave it to them. At the time one US dollar was worth 7.65 dollars in their money. They were so excited. The three of us boarded a villagers bus in Olongapo City and headed to Manila, the capitol of the Philippines.

The bus was packed (mostly women and children), their farm animals me and my two friends. I was the only American on the bus. It was one WILD ride through the mountains and countryside, like something out of a movie. We hit a stretch of flat dry road and in the distance, a little way ahead of the bus, I noticed five Filipino men carrying machetes and two bamboo poles with white sheets attached and smeared with blood.

Well, I'm an American and we are very curious by nature - no, I'm being polite here, we are VERY nosy people and I am no different. So I stuck my head up to get a better view of this spectacle and they SAW ME.

To this day I have never seen people, anywhere, act like this. They went crazy and acted like sharks in a frenzy and I was their breakfast, lunch and dinner! Actually, in the Philippines, they eat four to six small meals a day, not three meals a day like us Americans. The five men stopped our bus and then proceeded on a moment of - shear terror. They took their time and went around the bus and smashed out each window with their machetes. After all, the bus and me were not going anywhere, if the bus driver does ANYTHING to help me they will kill him too.

I remember the women and children were screaming and crying and the animals in the bus were all freaked out too! My buddies pushed me down on the floor of the bus and shoved me under the seat. I immediately knew what this meant. The attackers were Filipino communists (the huks) and back then they killed American servicemen, whenever one ventured into their territory. All United States servicemen knew this before hand, so this was my fault for even being there. In every port our officers tell us where we can and cannot go, what we can and cannot do - every country has different customs. A friendly handshake in our country can actually be an insult in another country, etc.

I wasn't under that seat 20 seconds, the only visible part of me sticking out was my rear-end, and even though I'm only eighteen years old - I'm thinking...

I have no business being under this seat, if I am going to die it's not going to be with someone sticking a machete up my ass. I get back up and Renee and Edgar are totally frantic and trying to shove me back down under the seat. I saw the first attacker was now trying to crash his way through the bus door. I stepped in front of my two very dear friends and waited for him. My only thought was to take the first one with me, I knew the other four were going to kill me anyway.

Edgar, himself a very rugged and tough man of about 23 years (they all carry those butterfly knives), pushed me aside and ran down the aisle of the bus and quicker than you can blink (one blow) knocked out the bus driver and pushed the gas peddle all the way down to the floor, there was one huk still in front of the bus when he did this.

My friend Edgar had just saved my life, and he can hardly speak English. In fact, he could not pronounce my name Smith and always called me Smit. Their own language is Tagalog. All these years later, actually I'm not really old, it still amazes me that I did not think to run down that bus aisle, knock out the driver and save my own life.

Back to one of the seven secrets of life.
You never give the power of your life to someone else - period.

What did I think of Manila? If you ever have the opportunity to go it will blow your mind, it is that beautiful - just like the people.

The next posting is for any veterans that were there
Ice-cream, ice-cream get your ice-cream with 'O'.