The continued spiral descent of an aircraft where the angle of attack of one wing is greater than the stalling angle.

* * *

If there is something that the Americans failed to influence majority of the Filipinos, it is our almost unparalleled religious devotion to Catholicism in comparison to the Protestantism they've been preaching. However, whatever the case of religion will be, it had been evident that the eighth of December is one that majority had been celebrating, as it is the Feast of the Immaculate Concepcion, who is the patroness of too many towns, cities and provinces—and very much of the entire country. Hence, the air even in the early hours of the day has that festive feeling.

There are too many churches to actually attend the mass at, but César insists that we shall do attend the earliest mass possible at Intramuros, particularly at the Manila Cathedral. He earlier told me his reasons that ever since he entered Ateneo de Manila as a boy, all the way to his graduation in college, he and his parents attended the mass there; and to also add that he is a frequent visitor of the said church which heard too many of his prayers. Not only as a student and as a son, but as a Filipino and as a man.

However, with me telling him that I am quite unwell and still a little sleepy, he spares me and says that we better catch up then the seven o'clock mass as his parents mentioned that they'll be anticipating us for breakfast.

As the streets had been quite crowded with churchgoers and parked cars, we're forced to take a longer walk. And I didn't mind at all as César keeps a tight hold of my hand to ensure that I'll not find myself falling over due to my prevalent light-headedness for some reasons.

It is funny to assume that Elian's sickness seeps through my nerves and be brought to this dream version of me. Whatever the case may be, I know that I'll definitely be fine as César told me earlier, too, that I didn't seem to have a fever. After all, there is nothing else to worry about for I just feel a little bit tired; and I can even blame it to my deep thinking of how eerie the words of the American soldier from last dream had been.

The streets of Intramuros are much more opulent and grand in this dreamscape, compared to what I remember from that of my reality; though I don't have enough or recent memory of seeing it as the last time I did visit had been almost half a decade ago. Anyhow, with the flying blue-and-white banners associated to the Immaculate Concepcion, the festive air is apparent to the too many people chattering and laughing on their way to and from the church. It is Monday, and despite attending the masses yesterday, it didn't mean that the number of churchgoers for such a well-celebrated feast to be lesser.

Aside from the banners, the streets are also filled with rows of stalls selling varying kinds—from a series of foods, trinkets, hats, fans, clothes, wooden sculptures, books, and even religious items. One from them, definitely always present no matter what the day may be, is a newspaper stand that assures me that it is the eighth of December year 1941; just hours after that of my previous dream, almost the same thing happening after that respective night I shared with César.

César tenses up right next to me, one that I easily hinted when he squeezes my hand, too. Looking up at him as his steps slow down, I instantly recognize that it is because of the church bells ringing this time, denoting the end of the previous mass celebration and in calling for the following schedule in the next few minutes.

From my previous dreams as well, I learned that the church bells have this common effect on César already. He seems to be much more alert and suspicious when he hears it ringing ever since that notice that all fighter pilots must be on alert twenty-four hours a day had been given to them. Resulting for me to remember what he told me at that time that I first saw him, in this dreamscape, in such a way.

"They say that in Britain, during wars, churches do not ring their bells. Until it is meant to be a signal."

I squeeze his hand back and doing so leads for him to turn to me. Smiling softly, I tell him, "It's nothing, César. Relax."

He sighs heavily and slowly nods before giving me a small smile himself.

Despite my words, I don't feel quite assured myself of it. Because, often times, in moments of happiness, something tragic is also bound to happen.

As we continue heading to the church, I turn another time to one of the newspaper stands, finding that all that there is right for today had been the Manila Daily Bulletin, the only newspaper to be printing on a Monday. And as some another ominous message, the headline reads: "FDR sends note to Emperor".

* * *

The aura of festivities is very evident inside the church, all the way from the start of the mass to the end. However, I almost strain my ears to a respective group of people who've been murmuring to one another just by the time that the communion ended. With too many people whispering and the priest continues on with the last blessings for the end of the mass, I am unable to catch a good ear about what they are discussing about.

And I don't think I need to guess what it is. The very moment that the mass ends and both I and César exit the church, too many newsboys—roughly five or ten of them from what I can all hint them to be in my view alone—had been running along, handing out the papers they have and shouting in almost an echo of one another the words: "Extra! Extra!"

I shiver, waiting for the next words and definitely in great doubt that I heard it right.

César, ever the quick-thinker and the calm one, stops one of the newsboy, asks for a copy and hands him some centavos.

I am aware that even him is surely in great doubt about the words being shouted except for the words "Extra! Extra!" Because it may all be just some big joke. Definitely a trick of this dreamscape, despite me knowing—rather, feeling—that it is to happen the next. The advent of war that leads for the Philippines to be involved in all of this and be left as part of one of its many victims.

"Extra! Extra!" the newsboys continue shouting amidst the ever-growing murmurs of too many people, and their papers almost raining from the sky. "Japs attacked Pearl Harbor! US announces war against Japan!"

César takes a shaky breath right next to me, and among the midst of people who've gone pale with the news, he is surely the one who've turned the palest. Almost white as paper. Of course, he had been anticipating this moment—any other soldiers do so—but it definitely feels so unreal to find out that the war announcement will be revealed in such a way and even on this day itself.

The extra that he had bought from the newsboy definitely says the same thing. That Japanese planes bombed and successfully sunk battleships and carriers docked at Pearl Harbor at 7:55 Hawaiian time, roughly two o'clock in the morning today Philippine time. Subsequently, the US Congress immediately declared war against Japan. With how the Philippines remains as a protectorate of America, there is no doubt that we'll be involved.

Too many things are attached that now that there is a war going on: the safest will be to leave Manila. Soldiers—commissioned and reservists—will all be recalled to join the war, whether they know how to hold and fire a gun or not. Everyone will be a target to be a victim that by the time bombs started raining in the country, it is very much like 'To whom it may concern'.

"Kailangan ko pumunta ng Zablan," César instantly remarks. His first words upon hearing the news definitely the same statement that any soldier in active duty will be saying despite him being currently in an approved leave. He drops the paper to the ground, just like too many others did, and he instantly takes my hand in quite a hurry as we push our way to the throngs of people.

Most of the words I hear from the others are their denials despite the fact that the newspaper had revealed a hard-proofed evidence of everything right now. And the other part of the discussion is one that is by mouth, saying, "Hindi niyo pa ba naririnig? Pearl Harbor is bombed by the Japs!"

I bite my lower lip. My head pounds much more painfully this time than earlier. "P-Pero, César, sasama ako sa iyo! Baka kailanganin ako sa Zablan o 'di kaya sa PGH! Paniguradong kapag nagsimula na ang mga Hapon na bombahin ang Maynila, madaming mangangailangan ng tulong!"

"Hindi pa tayo nakakasigurado kung gaano na kalaki ang nangyayaring digmaan sa pagitan ng Amerika at ng Hapon," he explains to me, almost shouting amidst the too many people speaking at once right now. We are squeezing through small gaps, going along with the flow of too many people, just to make it back to where we've parked his car. "Hangga't wala tayong iba pang nakukuhang impormasyon, iiwan muna kita kala Papa at Mama para ipaliwanag mo sa kanila kung ano ang nangyayari ngayon. Kung bakit hindi ako makakasama sa almusal, at sabihin mo rin sa kanila na pupunta akong Zablan."

"César naman, pareho lamang tayong may tungkulin. At pareho lang din tayong pinagbigyan ng permiso na magbakasyon. Kung babalik ka dahil sa tungkulin na ito, babalik din ako," I insist.

He instantly stops walking and faces me. His hands are on my upper arms at once and right now, he looks lost and frantic about what is the right thing to do. "(Y/N), please," he begins another time. "Ikaw lamang ang inaasahan kong makakapag-assure sa mga magulang ko ng kung ano ba talaga ang nangyayari. At kailangan mo rin magpahinga. Ikaw na ang nagsabi kanina na masama ang pakiramdam mo; paano ka naman makakapaglingkod kung ikaw mismo ay may dinadaing na sakit?"

I sigh heavily. "César..."

"Please, (Y/N). Ito lamang ang hinihingi ko sa iyo. Kung hindi mo kayang gawin lahat-lahat ng iyon, gusto ko lamang masigurado na maayos ang kalagayan mo. Kahit iyon lang. Ayaw kong nahihirapan o nasasaktan ka. Magpahinga ka muna ngayon habang inaalam ko kung ano ang buong detalye, at kung ano na ba talaga ang nangyayari at ang mga susunod na ipag-uutos. Habang inaalam ko ang mga iyon, manatili ka muna kala Papa at magpahinga," he remarks.

* * *

After a series of dreams, I come to the conclusion that César isn't just a man prepared to die, despite the notion that he evidently didn't want to die just yet. It is almost ironic in a sense of view; but it seems like something that he had long prepared himself to, in any event that gambling with death is a lost cause. With that in mind, it is something that I look up to from him, because not too many people will be willing to embrace the end and live life to the fullest with no regrets. After all, we all only live once.

I didn't fight against César afterwards. I know that, if he is to choose between saving and protecting his life or mine, he'll definitely do everything in his power to ensure that I'll get to keep mine at the cost of his. Hence, even telling me that the reason he won't allow me to join him back to Zablan is because of the danger that airfields now pose... because if the Japanese are coming here, they're surely doing it by ensuring that they have air superiority. What else to do in that concept but to target the airfields both the US and the Philippines have?

There is no doubt that the first unit of the army that will be gone at the advent of an invasion will be the air force itself. No planes, no runways, no airfields are all equivalent to an immediate victory to freely allow Japanese planes to drop their bombs wherever.

The extra from the Manila Daily Bulletin causes a frenzy. It takes away the festive mood, and lead everyone to panic. Everyone is asking what comes next—now that the United States is, no doubt, crippled by its assets due to the bombing of Pearl Harbor; and the Philippines now a target for the Japanese... what shall the Filipino people do?

Due to the almost unmoving traffic, it will take us more than an hour for I and César to travel the distance between Intramuros and his parents' house just along Harrison. And with that, I can sense César's impatience with every tick of the minute; both of us aware that the more time that drags on, the more attacks and plannings are happening somewhere.

No music could be heard from every radio station—all of it saying the same news that we're already aware of since the end of the mass. However, minutes after the ride, all stations deliver the same voice. President Manuel Quezon addresses then the nation.

"The Zero Hour has arrived," he says, some sort of a reminder that the entire country had been waiting for such a moment to spark. Saying then that everything that is being delivered as news is real; that whatever pleasantries of peace we are experiencing since the outbreak of the war in Europe and his intentions to save a few Jews that the Philippines had welcomed with open arms had finally ended. He adds on, "Every man and woman must be at his post to do the duty assigned to him and her. Let us place our trust in God who never forsakes our people."

César drums his fingers against the steering wheel, and he had been breathing in and out heavily countless of times already. He is fidgeting, and even I know him to be cool-headed, there is no way that even this outbreak of war will be too easy to deal with. I wonder now what is currently going on inside that beautiful mind of his, and I hope that, even knowing that it is filled with what-ifs concerning the future, he better think of ways of survival above anything else. Because... what will be those what-ifs then but just as that if either from us make it to the end?

Breaking the tension somehow and the eerie silence except for the news from the radio, I ask, "Sa tingin mo ba alam na rin nila sa Batangas?"

"There's no doubt that they know." With the still halted cars ahead of us, he leans his head back and closes his eyes. The frown he has, ever since reading the Manila Daily Bulletin's extra, remains as he lightly pinches the bridge of his nose. "Since Monday ngayon, paniguradong si Kapitan Villamor ang unang nakaalam. Siguro naghihintay lang siya para gisingin 'yong mga magiging parte ng regular flight formation training tuwing Monday, tapos narinig niya 'yong balita. Madalas naman na balita ang maririnig sa radyo sa may lounge; especially kapag ganoong kaaga. Mas una pa nila panigurado nalaman kaysa sa atin."

I know about that, as the Sixth Pursuit Squadron comes to a rather fixed routine ever since the transfer to Batangas. Mondays are reserved for flight formation training, while the rest of the week are for mock dogfight trainings. And since weekends are allotted to dwindle somehow—well, at least, by rotation of day-offs—there is no doubt that Capt. Villamor himself will signal for the start of the routine of the week once more. Additionally, flight formation trainings are conducted as early as six in the morning... and if it had been within the military radio, then Batangas Airfield had heard of the news itself as early as five o' clock. About the same time that Capt. Villamor are to rouse the men; however, today, he delivered the news that all that they've practiced and trained for are finally to be used and tested.

I sigh heavily before biting my lower lip. Just imagining the pilots of the Sixth Pursuit Squadron thinking of it at first as a joke then be in active duty is surely one that César also envisions to be. At the same time that as a nurse... I can't help but also think then of how many people will be wounded and be part of the casualties. Like, how many from those whom I've known, seen and met, talked to and laughed with are going to be just some number in the records of injured and dead at the end of the war?

I freeze a little when César reaches out to touch my hand. I am so used with him assuring me that everything's going to be alright with a smile; but now, when I look at him, the only comfort that he can offer is his touch that he wants me to know of that I must not worry too much. Because even him can't bring himself to do assure me, knowing fully that both of us are better to live with the truth than the lie.

For now, this is enough.

* * *

A/N: Vote, comment and share! Whatever you do means a lot to me, and I am really wishing for some feedback!

A few list of notes to share!
1. Manila Daily Bulletin or as we know it nowadays as the Manila Bulletin was actually founded in 1900. It was the second oldest extant newspaper published in the country and the second oldest extant newspaper in the Far East. (Yeah, the Philippines hold too many oldest records actually like that of PAL.) As mentioned through the records and diaries of the survivors of WWII, the Manila Daily Bulletin was the only newspaper to be printed on Mondays in the country. Hence, when the news of Pearl Harbor was announced, it was the only newspaper who've managed to publish an extra on that day.
2. "FDR sends note to Emperor" was the frontpage headline of the Manila Daily Bulletin on that day of 8 December 1941. The note was to prevent war on the Pacific that was actually sent on 6 December 1941 EDT. The only reason it was being only released on the Philippine newspapers was because of the fifteen hour difference between Manila and Washington. Below, after that of the notes, was a photo of the said frontpage courtesy of the Ayala Museum.
3. The "extra" released on 8 December 1941, although there had been any surviving records of such, had been released on the morning that announced the war between the US and Japan. The time of its released was definitely about the same time that I've mentioned in the story, roughly at eight in the morning. Diaries and essays from the survivors had said that the news was only known among the military for some time, and since everyone was eager to figure out if the attack indeed happened (too many were saying that it could all be a joke), such news was only relayed on in a later hour, which could be about six hours since it actually happened, and about three or four hours since it was first been relayed to the troops in the Philippines.
4. President Quezon's address were as also mentioned above: "The Zero Hour has arrived." I've tried searching for the entire speech and the exact time that the address was delivered. However, based on diaries and essays, which couldn't even agreed on, the President, who was staying in Baguio at that time, was already told of the attack early on before the "extra" was released, and immediately, the President wanted to address the nation that Pearl Harbor was indeed bombed.
5. The Sixth Pursuit Squadron knowing about the war. The only and reliable source I found of their initial reaction was that through Col. Villamor's book, They Never Surrendered, because this Sixth Pursuit Squadron, despite being the best there was, also seemed to be a very enigmatic group. Anyway, according to Villamor, on Part One, Chapter II, page 31, #8; it was at five o'clock when he was lounging in the barracks, preparing to rouse the men for their regular flight formation, when he was startled by the news from the radio regarding of the attack and the war itself. He then immediately stirred the men shouting "War! War! War has begun between America and Japan." The men then woke, asking if he was joking, saying that he was crazy, and even remarking that the Japanese would never dare attack. But it was no joke that within fifteen minutes, their guns were loaded and their obsolete P-26s were ready for combat.

Wasn't able to have a clearer shot of the front page itself, but managed to find this gem from the pile available to be seen through the Ayala Museum's gallery. :>

Chapter title: Spin. Ever wondered the feeling of an aircraft in a spin? Don't try envisioning it, because the Gs are quite... how will I explain it? Will make you want to vomit whatever you have on your stomach even if there hadn't been any? Anyway, as mentioned on the description earlier on, it is putting the aircraft in a stall that made it dive in spiral motion. For the air force and acrobatic pilots, it is usual to feel those Gs; but for commercial flights, no. For student pilots, it is part of our "upset and recovery training" (UPRT); and it was scary at first, then fun, then not all good with a sensitive stomach. Anyway, the reason for the chapter title is a little easy to hint. Things are spiraling out of control, especially for the Reader. We can all say that the D-Day has finally arrived.

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