Very early in the mornings I go to the springs to watch the river flow. An enchanting sight indeed! And I ask the river the fate of my parents, and of my brothers and sisters whom I left behind, and whose memories I keep. But –the rivulet mute at last– answers me not, with nothing but the murmurs of its wavelets struggling to join the waters below.
Our preparations are over before dawn. A dove is seen flying across the sky. We leave early, and when the sun is up we see San Rafael in the distance. Upon entering the town we fire off our cannons with such force that it leaves me almost deaf.
We did charge some rounds of ammunition as we enter the town. We stop in front of the Court, because of bullets whizzing by. As we expect enemy reinforcements, some of our comrades burn the town. As we turn to the road we hear horrible discharge of artillery. Our enemies themselves are reconnoitering the place, because some think that troops in the convent are members of the Katipunan. Of our men, one die and five are wounded.
I cannot tell how many casualties on the Spanish side; it is said that it reached forty.
We gather in the afternoon on the summit of a mountain near our headquarters. We kiss the flag and before it renew our pledge of our readiness to die for our country.
Tears well in the eyes of everyone as if in approval of our decision to defend Justice.
We are in Palaguid (Kakaron de Sili). All the comrades are gathered. To commemorate the birth of the Savior, we hoisted our Flag, fired our cannons and rendered obeisance to the K.K.K.
In the afternoon, target practice. Joy is seen on the faces of everyone. And heaven seems to hear us, reverberating with enthusiastic shouts of Long live the Filipinos.