A memorial to the men who died in Corregidor:

"Sleep my sons your duty done,
For freedom's light has come,
Sleep in the depths of the sea,
Or in your bed of hallowed sod,
Until you hear at dawn
The low, clear reveille of God."

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Eversince I was a child, I've always wanted to visit Corregidor Island.  Stories and movies about World War II almost always made me imagine about tanks and planes and battleships and how they commandeer their respective territories.  Drawings of tanks and guns would be scribbled in any writing material I could grab...including our Disney encyclopedia.

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When we were children "gira-girahan" was always our favorite game.  Two groups of toy-gun-wielding children would take their positions in an attempt to eliminate all the opponents.  Of course, "ratatatat" means we fired our gun...and nobody ever missed...kahit shadow lang ung nakita.  And we would usually end up arguing about who-fired-first.  And there would be spies, too!  Our house in JBC is elevated to about half a meter so you can actually see who's been running the other side.  Spies would be lurking under the house giving information to hiding soldiers behind the bushes and sometimes waiting for a prey for them to ambush.  At the end of the day, a group usually ends up a victor though the price is usually a pot of champorado.