Introduction

Introduction

7/7/99

          A journalist  will    always swear  that  “the  story  behind  the  story”  could  be more  exciting  or  hair-raising than what goes to print.  He meets people, goes through all the trouble, the hassle and sometimes, risk his life  for  the story.  That is part of the job in this world of the pen.

            His experiences in the job remains in note pads, in cassette tapes, in photographs or at  the most in memory  which dims through the years. After all, the editor is only interested in the draft and the how, why, where, when or what about in the event.  The story is what fills the pages and helps sell  the  paper.  Editor are wont to say , “I don’t care  how  you  get  it,  but  I  need  the  story in one hour’s time.” 

            Almost always,  in those  “after job sessions”  with the bottle,   we  could   tell  more  than  what goes to print.  So one  early morning I  asked my self, why not  a book. Yes!  Why not  a  book?

            References  to personalities  in this book  are as at  the time  the  story happened ,  thus  a  Lt.  Juan  referred  to  in  a  particular tale, will  refer to him  as such.   This will save  on words  as  “now retired” or  “former,”  and  so  on  and  so  forth,  as  Yul  Bryner  would  rattle off  , in the King and I, “etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.  

            Some names have  to be kept in confidence, to protect  the innocent  as well as the guilty.  Considering  the times, there are  (Treasonous and Super-sensitive)  Behind the Bylines stories  which will never see print, ever.

            Except for  some names forgotten (and thus given another) all the incidents here  are true and correct, to the best of my knowledge “So Help Me God!”

            How did the idea  of  this particular  book  came about.  

            We have this little tale about  Hooch.    

            Hooch is a little bitch.  

            Year ago,  we had  two dogs.  Bogart  and Boldog.  Later, Tisay,  a  neighbor’s bitch,  delivered eight puppies near our front door.  For a month or so, she nursed the puppies.  After she   weaned them out , she returned to her home.  She  left  the eight puppies with us.  We managed to disposed of six of them.  We  got  stuck  with two females, Gord and  Kawa.  Bogart  was sideswiped by a truck and was buried with love. Boldog died of a “heart attack” hours after I scolded him for a minor offense.

Hooch in the morning

            From where came  Hooch? The boys in the neighborhood were along the road,  when a  Chianaman on  a  car passed by.  The man  stopped   and asked  the boys if would care for puppies.  One of  those puppies  ended  in the house. His color was just like that of Hooch  with  (Tom Hanks in the movies;)  dark brown and  eyes yellow.  Thus  the name  stuck.

            Robbers,  thieves and kidnappers  abound  in  the community..  The affluent can afford  bodyguards  while  the influential can have a  dozen or so policemen  or even Philippines Marines  by their sides.

           

            Security guards are a  luxury to keep  our meager possession away from harm.  Thus  this affinity to dogs.  They   are  faithful and devoted animals  who would not betray me,  or  worse ,  .

            But back to Hooch.  Our  dogs, Boldog,  Gord, Kawa and Hooch  stay at  home.  This means  that  they crowd us out of our seats.  Ergo,  they all sleep inside the house during the day and at night.  Any of them would scratch at the door  after midnight,  to be let out to piss on earth.   Hooch, the littlest of the four  would be the last  to return, with a  scratch  and  some barks.

            One  morning at about five,  as usual,  she  scratched for out  and about  20 minutes later  barked to be let inside.  Since my sleep was disturbed,  I  lay in bed awake.  It was this moment, when I remember another bark – that of Bondoc. Bondoc was my neighbors dog in the hills where I taught as a public school teacher in the middle 1960. In town I met Bondoc owner –Tutuh.

            He told me, Bondoc is no more – “eaten by soldiers”  assigned to his community years ago. So it occurred to me   why not write a book  about Bondoc (and minutes later) and how it is to be in the job.  Several titles flashed by, but I think  “Behind the Bylines”  will do.  I opened the door to let Hooch inside the house.

            Ten minutes later,  I  switched on the lights. I next plugged on my desktop and started these lines.           More stories in the  pages will  come.