Diary of Felipe Buencamino III

September 25, 1944

To write or not to write, that is the question… nope, this isn’t Shakespeare… just a terribly impatient mutt who’s praying for bombs, bombs, and more bombs.

Gerry Roxas and Tato Liboro were here yesterday. The young kids are anxious to join guerrilla units. Morale has been very high ever since U.S. planes showed up. If the raids continue, I have a feeling the civilian population will take care of everything. Come on America!

Read a Guerrillero’s poem entitled “Someday”. Here it goes:

Someday I’ll live again,

I’ll sing again

A song with freedom’s ring again.

Someday I’ll love again

My heart I’ll give again

Beneath the moon above again.

But now I must fight

For country and right

Guerrillero is the name for me

And my job to strike for liberty.

For the foe at one dark command,

From sky and shore

Swooped down on our native land

And its our no more.

So come and tramp with me

To right this hideous wrong with me

Oh come and camp with me

Up to the hills with me

For now we must fight

For country and right.

Guerrilleros, up with me

and strike with me a blow for liberty!

 

P.S. A very quiet day. No sirens; no planes; no bombs. Is it the lull before the storm?

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