Strike Eagle Read Online Free PDF

reorient our entire focus?”
    “That is right! We can either stay small, forever nipping at the government’s heels, or we can seize the opportunity to grow, to make an impact.”
    Pompano held up a hand. “I agree, Cervante. It appears that we have an opportunity to grow, but that may be a bad thing.” He smiled. “We will not decide today. This needs discussion, time to evolve, so we may grow and proceed carefully.”
    “And if we take too much time, the opportunity will pass us by.” Cervante felt his face grow hot.
    Pompano spoke softly. “We must seize the proper opportunity. Take me to the supply cache and we will discuss the options.”
    Cervante started to retort, but a group of children, all dressed in their school uniform of white shirts and dark pants, crossed the busy street and entered the store. They called out to Yolanda as they entered.
    Cervante kept his mouth shut, angry at Pompano’s cool reception of his news. That is what happens when the founding member of a Huk cell grows old, he thought. Too set in his ways, he spurns change. He had been immersed in the details for so long that he had forgotten what the overall goal of the Huks entailed.
    First established as rebel activists after World War II, the Huks had fought against the cruel plantation owners who dotted the Luzon jungles, trying to topple the system oppressing the people. The Huks gained a wide range of notoriety and were even applauded for their democratic goals. But after the plantation owners had capitulated and the major Huk officers had surrendered to the PC, there still remained a dedicated core, a cadre of Huks that wanted reform.
    The most famous, and most touted since it supported the Marcos government’s anti-socialist movement, was the radical pro-Communist file that had emerged within the Huks—the New People’s Army. Living in the mountains and striking fear into people’s hearts, this group received most of the press. And it was this group that was the most hated and sought after, since the free world had been programmed to react with a knee-jerk, froth-at-the-mouth reaction at even the mention of Communism.
    Pompano had been instrumental in starting the first Huk cell in Angeles City. No other cell was close to an American military base. It was this closeness that had attracted Cervante to this particular cell. But Pompano was an old man, using old ideas to pursue old goals—he was content to steal from the Americans, support the vast black market that infected Clark.
    As Cervante studied the man, Yolanda walked out with the group of children. She bid the children farewell, laughing at their joking, then brushed back her hair before heading back inside. Cervante caught Pompano’s attention and nodded to the store.
    “Are you worried about your daughter, taking her up to the mountains?”
    “Yolanda? She will attend the university in Quezon City later this year. She will not get involved in this. She knows nothing and suspects nothing.” He set his bottle down. “As far as she is concerned, you and I are members of the Friends of Bataan, sharing a common link in our country’s history by building war memorials in the countryside.”
    Cervante picked up his glass and swirled it around before draining it. “That is good. Very good. I must travel—” He hesitated, wondering briefly if he should let the old man know where he was going, but decided against it. The meeting with Kawnlo must remain secret.
    “I must travel, but I will be back Sunday. When can we next meet? I will know then when I can take you to the mountains.”
    Silence, then: “Monday, after the weekend.”
    Cervante stood. “Good. Meet me in front of the Skyline Hotel—eight o’clock at night.” He looked toward the door and saw the shadow of Yolanda’s lithe figure and a feeling stirred inside him. Some time would elapse before his return.
    ***

Chapter 2
    Friday, 1 June
    Clark Air Base
    Sweat rolled off Bruce’s forehead. The humidity