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[vhem-0799]

"An autobiography of a Martial Law Survivor" A year later on the first anniversary of Martial Law, I was arrested, tortured, and imprisoned for 7 months. I wish to add my voice to those who denounce the efforts of Duterte and his minions in congress to extol Marcos as a hero and promote a revisionist view of the ruthless and corrupt dictator whom he idolizes, emulates, and tries to surpass. Below is an account of the horror I experienced: At 4 in the morning of September 21, 1973 – the first anniversary of Martial Law – I and 3 other seminarians quietly slipped out of the seminary. I wore my jogging pants and my Scout Ranger jacket. We carried some of the leaflets that we mimeographed the previous nights. These leaflets contained a denunciation of Martial Law and a call for people to resist the dictatorial regime. We planned to saturate the city with these leaflets. Other students belonging to various cells were also doing the same thing in different parts of the city. We went on our separate ways. As I was walking alone in the dark and deserted streets of downtown Cebu dropping leaflets on doorsteps and in mailboxes, I suddenly felt hands grabbing me from behind. A man held me by the neck, another by the arms. The third man aimed his .45 caliber pistol at me and said, “Don’t move, you are under arrest!” He frisked me and grabbed the leaflets I tucked inside my jacket. A car suddenly pulled in beside us and I was shoved inside. I was sandwiched between the two men while the third sat in front. My whole body froze and my heart raced as the car sped along Jones Avenue and entered Camp Sergio Osmeña. I had a sinking feeling – as if I was falling into a void as I said to myself, “Oh God, please help me, I have been caught.” They brought me up to the office of the Constabulary Security Unit on the third floor and dumped me inside the small, dark, windowless room they called the “dragon room.” This was the room where they conducted tactical interrogations. What happened next seemed surreal. It was an experience of pain, shame, and humiliation that I tried to forget and did not want talk about. While I was inside the “dragon room,” I felt so helpless. I cried out to God but he seemed so distant and absent. I felt abandoned. Under the glare of a light bulb over my head, the intelligence agents continued to take turns in interrogating me and hitting my solar plexus, ears, chest, and kidneys every time I refused to answer their questions. I was gasping for air every time they hit me. The pain became so unbearable that I passed out. When I regained consciousness, I lost sense of time since it was dark inside the room. I didn’t know whether it was night or day. I was hungry and thirsty. Instead of giving me water, somebody forced me to drink Tanduay rum. I became groggy and they continued to ask me who my comrades were and where they could be found. They thought that too much alcohol would loosen my tongue. Instead, I wailed like a little child.  After a while, another intelligence agent was assigned to interrogate me. He treated me like I was his younger brother. He spoke softly and told me that the torture would stop if I just give them the information they wanted. He also brought me food. I was wondering if I could withstand another session of torture. Yet I was also imagining the faces of my comrades. If I revealed their names they would also be picked up, tortured, and imprisoned. I told myself that I would never reveal any information that would lead to their arrest. Yet I had to tell them something that would make them believe that they had broken me and that I had finally cooperated. So, I finally said, “Please, don’t hurt me anymore. I will tell you everything I know.” The head of the Constabulary Security Unit came. He was stocky and dark. He looked like a bulldog. I overheard other agents referring to him as Major. He asked me the source of the documents and the identity and location of my contacts. I told him that the structure of the underground was very sophisticated, and that I only knew one contact

who provided me with the leaflets. I gave them false information and implicated another person not connected with our group. They seemed to believe me and the torture stopped. They were glad that I was finally cooperating with them. They asked me if I was willing to work as an informer if they released me. I said yes. I was thinking that I would just hide once I got out.  The following night or was it day, I heard the scream of another person. An agent told me that they had picked the person whom I had implicated. I was seized with remorse. When I met the Major, I told him that everything I revealed to them was a lie and that I was retracting my statement. So they released the person immediately. I felt I was being sucked deeper and deeper into a black hole in which there was no escape. When I went to the comfort room, accompanied by a guard, I saw an open window and all I thought was to jump out of it. We were on the third floor but I didn’t care. All I wanted was to end it all. But I didn’t have a chance to do it since the guard was just beside me.  I was sent back to the dragon room for further interrogation. They were mad at me for lying to them. The torture continued. I was like a punching bag and a soccer ball. But I refused to tell them anything. After so many days of torture, my body and mind became numb. I couldn’t feel anymore. Even when one of the interrogators put the barrel of his .45 caliber pistol in my mouth and cocked it, I didn’t care anymore if he pulled the trigger. My interrogators out of exasperation told me that they would be using electric shock to force out information from me. They showed me a machine with electrodes that they would attach to different parts of my body. I was suddenly filled with terror. I finally told them, “OK, I give up, I can’t stand it anymore. I will tell you everything.” They believed that I had finally reached my breaking point.