Let's talk about PMT: Preparatory Military Training. This part of my high school experience had been bugging me for awhile now since there's a lot I have to share about this certain area of my life. This itch was further compounded by a chance encounter with Raj Basa last December 25, an encounter which had lead me to wonder what my other fellow ex-officers are thinking about regarding their PMT days.
Perhaps, I should be the one to make the first move, that's why I'm sharing this now.
First, a little background. I'm Paolo Bataller, Battalion Commander of my batch, Cadet Lieutenant Colonel. I guess my ascent to power and (presumably notoriety) was effected by a stroke of luck. I was the last of a series of COCC (Cadet Officer Candidacy Course? These acronyms are easy to forget) leaders, with the first few candidates bowing out of the program. By the start of my senior year in high school, I was the de facto candidate for Battalion Commander, not because of my imposing stature ( I'm a short dude, you know) but probably because I was among the few who took COCC seriously (ex: I memorized totally the material given to us, mastered the drills as best as I could, and internalized everything that our officer-mentors told).
But hubris aside, I guess the best word that encapsulates my PMT experience is this: angst. Amidst the companionship, the camaraderie, the fun that ironically flowed from our shared punishments, there was always this unflinching air of desperation. And even five years after, I'm still left shaking my head, begging the question: Why did we have to go through all that (crap)?
Simply put, it was a difficult time. Imagine doing something without any support from the outside whatsoever. That's what being an officer was about then. I don't know about the rest of corps but I almost became an "emo" at that time, complete with intense periods of abandonment and silent anger directed against the powers-that-be.
The issue behind this was that the school administration didn't want PMT anymore and we were supposed to be the last batch. Although winning the administrator's support was always first in our agenda, our efforts were rendered futile in the long run. It didn't help that there was already widespread condemnation among the faculty over some questionable "PMT" practices (which, I believe, we've minimized or removed over time).
It also didn't help that it was hard to convince everyone that PMT must continue if the officers themselves weren't exactly a very convincing lot. I had to admit then that, despite our best intentions, we were a motley crew for a corps, with officers of regrettable academic records and dubious ethical standards (Try remembering someone who punished everyone with squat thrusts under the heat of the sun... On Fiesta day, mind you). Compound to that fact the realization that we didn't have convincing reasons why PMT should stay.
Basically, PMT was unpopular and this fact was hard for us who were part of the organization.
What aggravated the situation was that we had no competent commandant to start with (Pardon me, Sir Antonio, but you weren't a factor in my tenure as a PMT officer). If you had imagined what it would be like doing something without support, try imagining now being an orphan. That was what we were. There was no guiding light for the corps, no mentor to tell us what we ought to do and why, no reference person for protocol, drills, and SOPs, and certainly no big-shot PR man or consultant (like what they have now. Lucky guys). We were alone, on our own, relying only on small tidbits of information from former officers of years past and from the occasional wisdom of our colleagues.
But somehow we managed to pull through. Somehow, we managed to pull off a minimalist pass-in-review without any COCC cadets to herald the future, so to speak. And though this was a false triumph (PMT was still going away, anyway), still, I couldn't help but feel proud of what we had achieved considering the difficulties that we had to go through.
And in the end, that's all that matters, right?
Perhaps, I should be the one to make the first move, that's why I'm sharing this now.
First, a little background. I'm Paolo Bataller, Battalion Commander of my batch, Cadet Lieutenant Colonel. I guess my ascent to power and (presumably notoriety) was effected by a stroke of luck. I was the last of a series of COCC (Cadet Officer Candidacy Course? These acronyms are easy to forget) leaders, with the first few candidates bowing out of the program. By the start of my senior year in high school, I was the de facto candidate for Battalion Commander, not because of my imposing stature ( I'm a short dude, you know) but probably because I was among the few who took COCC seriously (ex: I memorized totally the material given to us, mastered the drills as best as I could, and internalized everything that our officer-mentors told).
But hubris aside, I guess the best word that encapsulates my PMT experience is this: angst. Amidst the companionship, the camaraderie, the fun that ironically flowed from our shared punishments, there was always this unflinching air of desperation. And even five years after, I'm still left shaking my head, begging the question: Why did we have to go through all that (crap)?
Simply put, it was a difficult time. Imagine doing something without any support from the outside whatsoever. That's what being an officer was about then. I don't know about the rest of corps but I almost became an "emo" at that time, complete with intense periods of abandonment and silent anger directed against the powers-that-be.
The issue behind this was that the school administration didn't want PMT anymore and we were supposed to be the last batch. Although winning the administrator's support was always first in our agenda, our efforts were rendered futile in the long run. It didn't help that there was already widespread condemnation among the faculty over some questionable "PMT" practices (which, I believe, we've minimized or removed over time).
It also didn't help that it was hard to convince everyone that PMT must continue if the officers themselves weren't exactly a very convincing lot. I had to admit then that, despite our best intentions, we were a motley crew for a corps, with officers of regrettable academic records and dubious ethical standards (Try remembering someone who punished everyone with squat thrusts under the heat of the sun... On Fiesta day, mind you). Compound to that fact the realization that we didn't have convincing reasons why PMT should stay.
Basically, PMT was unpopular and this fact was hard for us who were part of the organization.
What aggravated the situation was that we had no competent commandant to start with (Pardon me, Sir Antonio, but you weren't a factor in my tenure as a PMT officer). If you had imagined what it would be like doing something without support, try imagining now being an orphan. That was what we were. There was no guiding light for the corps, no mentor to tell us what we ought to do and why, no reference person for protocol, drills, and SOPs, and certainly no big-shot PR man or consultant (like what they have now. Lucky guys). We were alone, on our own, relying only on small tidbits of information from former officers of years past and from the occasional wisdom of our colleagues.
But somehow we managed to pull through. Somehow, we managed to pull off a minimalist pass-in-review without any COCC cadets to herald the future, so to speak. And though this was a false triumph (PMT was still going away, anyway), still, I couldn't help but feel proud of what we had achieved considering the difficulties that we had to go through.
And in the end, that's all that matters, right?
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