When martial law was declared - my own story

It was about seven o'clock in the morning of September 21, 1972, and I was having breakfast at an eatery in Midsayap, Cotabato, when the radio blurted out the news on Martial Law. Minutes later we heard the voice of President Marcos himself saying something about state of emergency, rebellion, and national security. It was a calm and matter-of-fact statement. But its effect on us was electrifying.

What will happen next? we asked ourselves. Will there be a civil war? What about our jobs, will we still be in the service?

At that time I was an area supervisor of the Bureau of Private Schools in North Cotabato. On that occasion I was on the second day of my supervisory visits to half a dozen schools in that province.

After the announcement I hurried back to Cotabato City where our office was. From there I rushed to my boarding house and packed my personal stuff, then went straight to the bus terminal for the three-hour trip to Davao City where I planned to catch a plane for Cebu. I arrived in that city about two o'clock and proceeded at once to the airport. I was lucky: A plane was scheduled for Cebu at four o'clock and seats were still available. The place was crawling with heavily armed soldiers. At the entrance to the terminal building Army men were inspecting passengers' luggage. At the doorway to the waiting area another group of uniformed men were doing body search. Even at the take-off spread there were soldiers too.

We arrived in Cebu past five o'clock. The first thing that greeted us were klatches of military men milling idly in the disembarking area. As we went down the plane (there was no "tube" in the old terminal) we passed through a line of troops and towards the exit area our baggage were again inspected.

The streets in Mandaue and Cebu City were unusually quiet. Very few vehicles were on the road and not many pedestrians were seen. We passed by a number of check-points and in one we were made to disembark and were body-searched. There were only about six or seven passengers in the jeep and all of them looked worried. One fellow said something about people who were taken to stockades. Names were mentioned of prominent individuals who were "invited" to the PC headquarters at Jones Avenue.

My wife felt relieved on seeing me for she had heard about possible social disturbances. I assured her things would be all right although I myself was not sure what the morrow would bring. We of course knew little about what was happening.We switched on the radio but only static sounds came out. The TV set had nothing but blank screen. We felt lost and worried. That's why when the face of Secretary Francisco Tatad appeared on TV sometime that evening and relayed information on the latest developments, all eyes and ears were on him.

The following day and throughout that week the atmosphere of uncertainty and anxiety continued to prevail. Classes in the basic levels were resumed after a few days, but those in college remained suspended. Nightclubs and movie houses were closed and some stores too. Even as early as seven o'clock streets would get deserted and towards curfew time at ten o'clock only the PCs and some people with "pass" could be seen in the roadways.

In subsequent days a number of radio stations resumed their broadcasts, but most of what we heard were musical pieces, drama and abbreviated news items. Commentaries were no longer heard, the whispered reports saying that many commentators had already landed in stockades.

Newspapers too had become rare commodities. Among the Manila-based papers the Manila Bulletin was the first to hit the street followed by other "crony" publications. Of course, columnists who were anti-administration, among whom was the outspoken Max Soliven along with Teodoro Benigno, and Teodoro Locsin, found themselves unwilling "boarders" in Fort Bonifacio.

Not all the happenings we heard, however, were bad. There were good ones like the summary dismissal from service of "notoriously undesirable government employees, the arrest of gambling lords, criminal elements, and smugglers, the dismantling of cartel monopoly, and others.

The week after Martial Law was the longest week for us. But when the dreaded civil war failed to materialize, we gradually learned to adjust to the realities of the New Society, as Marcos called his initiative.

In fact, with criminality almost completely wiped out, drug-pushing totally under control, corrupt officials under fire, and other healthy developments, most Filipinos were happy about the new social order. We did not know until after a few years later that the country was heading towards a catastrophe.

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