As I finished relaying orders to the men, I returned to my post where Anya stood by my side. Down the line, the mud-caked regulars were already hard at work, driven by a newfound urgency. While Tomas took care of the crates, Pasco liaised with Flores to oversee the digging. Things were rapidly taking shape, and I had to admit, I was impressed with the current progess.
"Well, we managed to convince the disoriented ones," I muttered, crossing my arms. "If we make our maths right, we can finish deepening the trenches before the night is out."
Anya pondered my words, leaning against the damp dirt wall. "Deepening the line... I beg to differ. If we burn the midnight oil, it might be possible, but we don't want to completely exhaust the men yet. We still lack fresh intelligence on the enemy's movements, especially their estimated staging locations, until we manage to get what the enemy are up to, the digging is suggested to be at a normal pace."
She had a point. True, systematic trench warfare wouldn't be widely perfected until the German Empire and the other major powers squared off in the First World War. Right now, I didn't need a proper, interconnected fortress system; I just needed a ditch deep enough to cover my men from the incoming American artillery barrage.
Our discussion was cut short by the heavy rustle of bamboo leaves. Teniente Todri stepped back into the clearing. He wasn't alone.
Behind him marched three battle-hardened NCOs, their boots caked in thick river mud. They weren't like the clean recruits back in the capital; their Rayadillo uniforms were heavily stained with silt and gun oil, and their faces carried the weary, hollow look of men who had already tasted black powder. Behind them, a larger detachment waited silently in the shadows of the brush.
"Sarhento Valerian," Todri called out, stepping forward with a faint, tight smile that finally broke through his nervous demeanor.
I snapped to attention, offering a crisp salute. "Teniente. I thought you were returning to the secondary line."
"I was," Todri said, lowering his hand and looking between Anya and me. "Luna expects you to hold the mouth of the meat grinder with nothing but your own capabilities, but I know what American firepower looks like down there. I cannot give you a full company, Valerian. But I can give you this."
He gestured to the three experienced Kabos standing at point, indicating the rest of their men waiting just outside the dugout perimeter.
"These three are some of my finest," Todri explained, his voice tinged with a quiet, paternal pride. "Each of them commands a seasoned fireteam of four soldados. Twelve veterans in total, fifteen including the NCOs. Consider them a temporary 'gift' to your new command, Sarhento."
The three Kabos stepped forward in flawless, mechanical unison, snapping their hands to their caps.
"Kabo Macario, reporting for duty, Sarhento!" the first barked—a broad-shouldered man with a jagged scar running along his jawline.
"Kabo Del Vamos, reporting with four soldados!" the second announced, his sharp, scanning eyes revealing a natural scout.
"Kabo Vicente, ready for the line!" the third added firmly.
Behind them, the fifteen additional soldados stood rigidly, their eyes scanning our defensive layout—and lingering curiously on the heavy mahogany crates Pasco and Tomas were guarding.
A sudden surge of tactical possibilities ran through my modern mind. With my original eight, Anya, these twelve incoming veterans, and the forty-two regulars we had just barely stabilized, our frontline sector was fast transforming into a formidable defensive strongpoint.
"Teniente..." I said, turning to Todri with genuine gratitude. "This is more than a gift. With this headcount, we can establish a functioning rotation system to keep the defensive line active."
The Teniente remained composed, patting my shoulder grimly. "Don't thank me yet, Valerian. Just make sure you keep them alive, and show the General that our section doesn't break. I'll be monitoring the secondary line. Good luck, Sarhento. Remember, this is temporary until orders change from high command; they remain under your wing for now. And if the inevitable happens... retreat."
With a final nod to Anya and me, the Teniente turned and melted back into the dark bamboo trail, leaving his veterans under my direct command.
The atmosphere in the dugout vibrated with a new, dangerous energy. Anya stepped up beside me, her icy, Siberian gaze raking over the new arrivals, silently measuring their discipline.
"Alright everyone, listen up," I commanded, locking eyes with Macario, Del Vamos, and Vicente. "Welcome to my section. Put your men at ease and gather around this map. We have a bridgehead to hold, and we're going to show these Americans that our might is not to be underestimated."
"Yes, Sarhento," the trio replied in unison.
While the rest of the veteran detachment stepped back to integrate with my original soldados—who were currently supervising the forty-two regulars on the line—I leaned over the wooden table. I used the tip of a spent Mauser casing to trace the winding banks of the Bulacan riverway.
"Kabo Anya brought up a vital point just before you arrived," I said, looking up at the three NCOs. "We are digging blindly. We cannot afford to exhaust our forty-two regulars if we don't know exactly when the hammer is going to fall tomorrow morning."
I turned my gaze specifically to the sharp-eyed scout. "Which is why, Kabo Del Vamos."
"Sarhento!" Del Vamos stepped closer, his eyes instantly locking onto the map coordinates.
"Teniente notes that your team specializes in scouting," I said. "I want your four soldados to slip deeper into the lines along our left flank near the creek immediately. Do not engage the enemy. I need a clear situational report on the American movements across the bank. Are they moving their field pieces by the main road, or are they attempting to float them across the shallower segments upstream? Furthermore, you're one of us now. The three of you are receiving a specialized sidearm. Do you know how to handle them?"
Del Vamos nodded smoothly.
Vicente inspected the heavy steel frame as I passed it over. "Well, I tend to use revolvers, but I think I can get used to this broomhandle fast."
"Sidearms?" Macario grunted, looking at his weapon with a mix of awe and suspicion. "This is an officer's piece, Sarge. How the hell did you procure these? You know what... I don't even care. As long as it helps me live to see tomorrow, I have no regrets."
"Keep in mind, it's a temporary issuance," I reminded them sharply. "Once you are all done with the scouting, the sidearms will return to me."
"Understood," they replied in unison.
Del Vamos offered a tight, professional nod, sliding his weapon into his belt. "Consider the scouting done, Sarhento. My boys can move through the reeds without waking the cranes. We will have your information before the midnight oil burns out."
"Good. Now you can move out," I ordered. He saluted cleanly, turned on his heel, and leave the tent, I heard he start giving order to his men, and quickly rush to the darkness.
I turned back to the remaining two NCOs. "Macario, Vicente."
"Sir!"
"Macario, take your fireteam down to the main line, work together alongside Sanchez and Julian in managing the men. Those forty-two men are terrified, but they are working. I want your veterans to act as the anchors. Show them the ropes as we will dig a bit deeper by at most 2 metres. If the walls collapse from poor bracing, the trench becomes a pre-made grave before a single shell even lands. If we manage to finish the labor early, we can teach those regulars a thing or two about marksmanship."
The broad-shouldered NCO touched the scar on his jawline and grinned grimly. "Understood, Sarhento."
"Vicente," I continued. "Your fireteam will establish our picket line. Alternate watch shifts with my second fireteam under Sanchez after he was done with the previous task. The Americans love to probe with their scouts right before dawn to induce panic. If a single blue uniform breaches our perimeter without an alarm being raised, I will hold you personally accountable."
"The line will hold, Sarhento," Vicente promised, his voice rock-steady as he saluted and led his men toward the forward observation posts.
As the dugout emptied, only my original core and Anya remained in the dim lantern light. The steady, rhythmic scraping of dozens of shovels echoed from the darkness below—a comforting sound of a disorganized rabble slowly transforming into a functioning defensive machine.
Anya walked over to the heavy mahogany crates, her fingers lightly tapping the brass locks. She looked back at me, her icy gaze softening just a fraction. "Twenty-one veterans, forty-two regulars. That is a lot of mouths to feed, Valerian, but it is also a lot of hands to hold a line.
I looked down at the map, my modern strategic calculations finally finding solid ground.
"Indeed," I whispered, my hand resting on the hilt of my hidden sidearm.
The loss of this river led to Americans having direct access to Malolos, which later led to the retreat of Filipino forces from their own capital. But if we suceed, then we might have a slight chance.