A FEW days into September 2017, I got a call from my boss. “Sonny, pack your bags. You’ll be assigned to Marawi for a month." My heart skipped a beat. It would be my first official deployment as a peace and development officer for the government.
I didn’t know exactly how to tell my wife. I had served as a communications officer for two USAID programs for more than 14 years, travelling across Mindanao, particularly in conflict-affected and conflict-vulnerable areas. But it was my first time to cover a war.
At the time of my deployment, the Marawi siege was in its fourth month and the end to the brutal war was nowhere in sight. The violent extremists tenaciously held on to their positions, matching government forces bullet for bullet.
Upon our team’s arrival at the provincial capitol of Lanao del Sur, we were welcomed by the sound of deafening gunfire. Not the kind you hear in a shooting range that comes in single or sporadic bursts but a seemingly non-stop barrage of high-caliber ammunition.
After disembarking from our vehicle, we dashed towards a tent in the middle of the capitol grounds, which was our makeshift base of operations. I could hear the bullets hitting the metal poles just a few meters from us.
Inside the tent, I could only see several men in uniform who were hunched over a table, looking at a map of Marawi. One of them was giving updates on a rescue operation they carried out a few hours ago in “Ground Zero,” the main battle zone.
The senior officer who was overseeing the delicate operations was Col. Cesar de Mesa. His team was tasked to extract civilians who were trapped in their homes and couldn’t leave for fear of being caught in the crossfire.
After making an assessment of the day’s operations, they proceeded to plan the following day’s rescue efforts. Col. De Mesa pulled out a digital tablet, showing the extraction points and the possible routes the soldiers could pass through to avoid enemy fire.
As we were having dinner that night inside the tent, we could hear bullets hitting the trees beside our tent. There was no let up to the barrage, as Col. De Mesa ordered us to drop to the ground and crawl outside the tent.
We would spend more than an hour pressed against the side of a greyhound bus, as we waited for the enemy fire to dissipate. We were all soaking wet as a heavy downpour turned the capitol into a marshland. We were thankful to be alive.
I woke up the following morning to the roaring sound of aircraft. I would learn that the military began its bombing runs of enemy positions at around 5 a.m. As the bombs hit their targets, plumes of smoke would fill the air as the ground shook.
At first, the bombings stoked a primal fear in me, as I felt that I would no longer be able to see my wife and children. However, as the days passed by, the bomb explosions would serve as my alarm clock, telling me that it was the beginning of another day.
It was then that I realized how it feels to be in a battle zone. It seemed that the rules in a humane society no longer applied here, as the parties to the conflict only had two options: to eliminate the enemy or be taken down.
While government forces and violent extremists had entirely different reasons for waging war -- the former to protect the civilian population and take back the city from the invaders, while the latter, to sow fear, violence and chaos – armed conflict remains brutal and painful.
I would spend the next four weeks documenting the relief and recovery efforts carried out by the government under its “Peace Corridor” initiative, which facilitated the safe passage and provided assistance to hundreds of civilians who were fleeing the conflict.
I remember interviewing an elderly Muslim woman who would be standing outside the operations center by 6 a.m. to follow up on her request to rescue her husband who had been trapped in their home for more than three weeks.
She had no way of communicating with her husband as his cellphone had already run out of battery. By that time, he no longer had provisions, or worse, had attempted to escape but was hit by sniper fire. I hope that the wife and husband are reunited.
I also covered a rescue operation wherein we had to turn back due to enemy fire. We could see the shooters perched on top of abandoned buildings and mosques who would rather give up their lives than be captured.
All these memories came rushing back as I monitored the latest developments in the wars in Ukraine and Gaza. There are no real winners in a war. Everyone loses. All it leaves behind is a swath of death, pain, and destruction.
May our world leaders, especially those who are directly involved in the conflict, find a middle ground and reach a peaceful settlement. The faith of humanity rests in the hands of those who believe that true power comes from genuine dialogue – not from the barrel of a gun.
