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IAmTheIslandThe German Exile, Part One
Lingayen Gulf
Ludwig von Seckendorff looked ridiculous in his water buffalo-drawn carriage, especially with his out-of-place aristocratic uniform, which in turn contrasted sharply with the straw hat that protected him from the sun. His thick mustache was also a point of light ribbing from the Filipino workers digging trenches and setting bamboo spikes at the edge of the beaches; he had already supervised the excavation of deeper tunnels several miles into the interior. With concrete being expensive and at a premium, the 'Iron Lady' of the Philippines had tasked the former geologist to examing whether the soil of the area was suitable for earth-and-bamboo tunnel networks and bunkers; a service he had performed for Von Mackensen before the reactionary forces' victory and his series of exiles after that. A frown of resentment, before he looked at the hardworking people putting up the defenses he had planned.
Getting off from his carriage, Ludwing went over to the person overseeing the current fortification effort; a middle-aged woman with a machete and pistol strapped to her long skirt. She was dirty from having joined in the digging for a few hours herself, and was still holding her shovel as she addressed Von Seckendorff in Filipino: "Hoi! Glad you finally arrived; as you can see, we've completed the first trenches." She then looked at the contents of the carriage. "You brought the machine guns yourself?"
"Brought and bought," was Ludwig's reply; he had learned the native languages during his stay here. "More of these are coming; along with ammunition." He looked at the beach and the blue waters beyond it, hoping against hope that war would not taint them in the future. "I will make sure your country is defended from any invader."
The lady foreman grinned at that. "We'll never be taken over by any conqueror ever again; that's for sure. Especially with me and my people running the machineguns. I learned how to use one, back in the war against the hacienderos. A captured American piece; we didn't know how to oil it, so it fell apart after some use."
Ludwig smiled and nodded. "Well, I still trust you with the ones I'm giving, then. Now, let's unload them, shall we?"
Some of the lady foreman's old deference towards white people and aristocrats must have returned, as she mildly protested, "Oh, please no! You've done so much for us and the defenses we're building; we certainly can't ask more of you. Besides, you might ruin your clothes."
Ludwing tilted his head slightly towards her. "Ah, but my good lady, as you can see, I need the exercise to lose weight!" He playfully patted his pudgy belly. "But seriously; you people have shown me so much hospitality and given me so much; this is the least I can do to repay you."
A sigh escaped the lady foreman's lips, before Ludwig and her went to the back of the carriage, being instinctively joined by two other workers. They would then take out the carefully packaged machine guns - two light and one heavy, as well as the crate of ammunition at the back of the water buffalo-drawn carriage. Ludwig's uniform would be stained by this, but he didn't mind; a minor price to live in (Priscilline) Concilliarist paradise. I never knew I'd find Arcadia in the Jungle, were his thoughts.
"So," asked one of the workers, a nineteen-year-old who carried a catechism - either 'Pure' Catholic or Independent Philippine Church, he didn't know - on his belt, "Are we getting mortars next?" When he received a nod from Ludwig, he would then smile widely and say, "Salamat (Thanks)!"
Once the machineguns were safely on the ground; they were going to be taken to a nearby arsenal instead of being deployed into the trenches right away, Ludwig's stomach would rumble, causing the lady foreman and the workers to chuckle. The former partisan of Von Mackensen would then say, "Oh, the next wagons are bringing food and clean water. Am I allowed to join you in lunch, lady foreman?"
An audacious request, but the female foreman smiled. "Just make sure to get your clothes cleaned afterwards. And wash your hands; we're going to eat with our hands."
Not too long ago, Ludwig would have thought of such habits as barbaric and monkey-like. But memories of the Lady President's hospitality and the genuine improvements being made on such a shoestring budget, of the happiness that can be found here, those had worn down his opinions. Who knows, he might even find a wife in a race he had once seen as just above animals, but were now just below angels. But that would have to wait.
Lingayen Gulf
Ludwig von Seckendorff looked ridiculous in his water buffalo-drawn carriage, especially with his out-of-place aristocratic uniform, which in turn contrasted sharply with the straw hat that protected him from the sun. His thick mustache was also a point of light ribbing from the Filipino workers digging trenches and setting bamboo spikes at the edge of the beaches; he had already supervised the excavation of deeper tunnels several miles into the interior. With concrete being expensive and at a premium, the 'Iron Lady' of the Philippines had tasked the former geologist to examing whether the soil of the area was suitable for earth-and-bamboo tunnel networks and bunkers; a service he had performed for Von Mackensen before the reactionary forces' victory and his series of exiles after that. A frown of resentment, before he looked at the hardworking people putting up the defenses he had planned.
Getting off from his carriage, Ludwing went over to the person overseeing the current fortification effort; a middle-aged woman with a machete and pistol strapped to her long skirt. She was dirty from having joined in the digging for a few hours herself, and was still holding her shovel as she addressed Von Seckendorff in Filipino: "Hoi! Glad you finally arrived; as you can see, we've completed the first trenches." She then looked at the contents of the carriage. "You brought the machine guns yourself?"
"Brought and bought," was Ludwig's reply; he had learned the native languages during his stay here. "More of these are coming; along with ammunition." He looked at the beach and the blue waters beyond it, hoping against hope that war would not taint them in the future. "I will make sure your country is defended from any invader."
The lady foreman grinned at that. "We'll never be taken over by any conqueror ever again; that's for sure. Especially with me and my people running the machineguns. I learned how to use one, back in the war against the hacienderos. A captured American piece; we didn't know how to oil it, so it fell apart after some use."
Ludwig smiled and nodded. "Well, I still trust you with the ones I'm giving, then. Now, let's unload them, shall we?"
Some of the lady foreman's old deference towards white people and aristocrats must have returned, as she mildly protested, "Oh, please no! You've done so much for us and the defenses we're building; we certainly can't ask more of you. Besides, you might ruin your clothes."
Ludwing tilted his head slightly towards her. "Ah, but my good lady, as you can see, I need the exercise to lose weight!" He playfully patted his pudgy belly. "But seriously; you people have shown me so much hospitality and given me so much; this is the least I can do to repay you."
A sigh escaped the lady foreman's lips, before Ludwig and her went to the back of the carriage, being instinctively joined by two other workers. They would then take out the carefully packaged machine guns - two light and one heavy, as well as the crate of ammunition at the back of the water buffalo-drawn carriage. Ludwig's uniform would be stained by this, but he didn't mind; a minor price to live in (Priscilline) Concilliarist paradise. I never knew I'd find Arcadia in the Jungle, were his thoughts.
"So," asked one of the workers, a nineteen-year-old who carried a catechism - either 'Pure' Catholic or Independent Philippine Church, he didn't know - on his belt, "Are we getting mortars next?" When he received a nod from Ludwig, he would then smile widely and say, "Salamat (Thanks)!"
Once the machineguns were safely on the ground; they were going to be taken to a nearby arsenal instead of being deployed into the trenches right away, Ludwig's stomach would rumble, causing the lady foreman and the workers to chuckle. The former partisan of Von Mackensen would then say, "Oh, the next wagons are bringing food and clean water. Am I allowed to join you in lunch, lady foreman?"
An audacious request, but the female foreman smiled. "Just make sure to get your clothes cleaned afterwards. And wash your hands; we're going to eat with our hands."
Not too long ago, Ludwig would have thought of such habits as barbaric and monkey-like. But memories of the Lady President's hospitality and the genuine improvements being made on such a shoestring budget, of the happiness that can be found here, those had worn down his opinions. Who knows, he might even find a wife in a race he had once seen as just above animals, but were now just below angels. But that would have to wait.
