Two very different units—but of the same allegiance—stood at the same beach where I had held my marksmanship training more than a week ago.
At the sight of me and Vicente emerging from the coconuts and ferns, the soldiers scrambled into formation.
The first group, led by Teniente Ronaldo Dimalanta, was composed of twenty-four men assigned to me by Heneral Torres as escorts. They wore the complete standard uniform of the Republic's regular units—from the rayadillo jackets to the ammunition pouches, down to the polished boots.
Dimalanta's group looked dangerous, armed with Mausers, and they looked the part with how they snappily and neatly arranged themselves at the authoritative instruction of their officers.
