FIRST PERSON: Inside Marwan’s hut

Our guide reiterated his instruction.

"We cannot stay in the area for long. Get your footage fast because we have to leave before other groups in the area realize we are there."

   
We have been walking for only twenty minutes and he has repeated the instruction three times. I got the picture.

   
I suddenly remembered a report I read about the PNP-Special Action Force operation to get Marwan. It was supposed to be a lightning-fast assault. Quick in and out.

   
My thought was then interrupted by the sudden appearance of armed men, most of them clad in their Bangsamoro Islamic Armed Forces or BIAF tiger pattern uniform.

   
It got me thinking: Why did we have to move fast if this was their territory? I knew I had already secured permission from the MILF commander in the area. Am I being made to believe they don't have full control over this territory?

   
As we entered what seemed to be a community, more armed men appear. Our guide motioned us to a cluster of houses and greeted a short but authoritative looking man. A unit commander in the MILF, our guide told us.
 

He greeted me with a smile. "Welcome," he said. "Welcome to our community... before you proceed, have a quick snack."

   
We were supposed to be in a hurry, I had a deadline to beat. Then again, I knew better than to turn down an invitation to even have a simple snack in these parts of Maguindanao.

   
It can be considered an insult if one turns down an invitation to eat. In any case, my news crew and I needed a bit of rest. It was also an opportunity to chat with an MILF unit commander whose area was three to four kilometers away from the encounter site.

 

I politely asked, Were any of his men involved in the firefight?

   
He was quick to answer. No. But they were on alert the whole day, he said.

   
From past 4 in the morning up to late afternoon of Sunday, January 25, they could hear the sporadic sounds of gunfire, the commander said. But no huge explosion associated with bombs. He explained that at the time, most of them were already awake for their early morning prayer, but they did not hear any explosion.

   
Two hours to Marwan's hut

Looking at his watch, our guide told us we have to move. It was already past 12 noon and it's going to be really hot, he said.

   
We were led out of the community by a group of armed MILF fighters. After crossing a long bridge made out of a single log and a rickety hand rail, we came upon a flat agricultural field.

 

From here, they said, it will be up to two hours to get to Marwan's house. Riding a banca was much faster. Three boats were waiting for us. One was already filled with over half a dozen MILF fighters.

   
We were joined by members of the MILF Committee on the Cessation of Hostilities or CCCH. One was from Western Mindanao covering the provinces of Zamboanga, Basilan and Jolo. Like me, he was also interested in what went wrong.

   
After navigating what seemed to be a maze of tributaries, our boat convoy reached a wide, fast flowing river. According to our guide, a kilometer downstream, we will reach the area where the SAF commandos crossed to get to their target.

   
The river was about 20 meters wide.

Perhaps this is where some of the men from the 84th Seaborne got bogged down as described by relieved SAF chief Director Getulio Napeñas, I thought to myself.

   
I tried to imagine how hard it would have been for the commandos, crossing the wide river in the dark, just a few hundred meters from their objective.

   
But then I saw a carabao casually wading across as our boat passed by.

   
I quickly asked, How deep is the water in this part of the river? Our guide said only about three feet with some parts only a foot deep. Hence the swift current.

   
That explained why our boat operator seemed to zigzag his way along the wide expanse of the river. He was avoiding the shallow portions. It was hard to tell from the very murky water.

   
It got me thinking: How did the commandos get bogged down? Besides, if some were able to cross, why were the others left behind? Did the river get big all of a sudden? Or did the other commandos cross the deepest part of the river?

   
Our boat suddenly veered to the left and headed straight for the river bank.

   
We are here, our guide told us.

   
As we got out of the boat, the crackling from the MILF two-way radio grew louder and more frequent as we headed for the two houses near the riverbank. Our guide told us to stay put while the MILF fighters made sure we did not have company.

   
Marwan's house is only 300 to 500 meters away, he said, pointing to the direction of the cornfields.

   
From this point on, our guide said, we have to move really fast. MILF fighters don't frequent this place because of the presence of other armed groups in the area. More crackling from the MILF two-way radio. The all-clear signal was given. We could proceed.


 

A few meters out, my cameraman and his assistant suddenly stopped.

   
An MILF fighter ahead of them cocked his gun. To their right, he spotted a group of men with guns across the river. The fighter holding the two-way radio then made a quick call. The armed men across the river waved their hands. Friendly forces.

   
Apparently, they were part of our group but positioned themselves across the river to secure that area. The other MILF fighters relaxed, and so did my crew.

   
I was oblivious to that scene because I was already ahead, trying to catch up with our guide. He disappeared into the cornfield, the tall plants quickly engulfing him. After navigating our way through the cornfields, we arrived at a small pathway.

‘Eerie feeling’
 

In deep breaths, our guide told us that just ahead is Marwan's hideout.

   
As we approached the house, I noticed that Marwan's hut is surrounded by banana trees, almost hiding it from view even 10 meters away.

There were three huts, the biggest of which was where Marwan hid and evaded authorities ever since he escaped from Sulu. Near the entrance to the house was a trench-like hole, the first sign that its one-time resident somehow prepared to defend this house from an armed attack.

 

I tried to look for signs of the explosion from the booby traps. According to Director Napeñas, Marwan triggered booby traps rigged around his house when he noticed the commandos approaching.

   
The first injuries to members of the 84th Seaborne came from those explosions, I recalled Napeñas' testimony at the Senate probe. So I thought that there must be a couple of craters from those booby traps. Perhaps, even wires connected to his house. I already had a couple of lines in mind for my stand-up. But I did not find a single one.

   
Our guide then claimed that residents from nearby houses did not hear any explosion, similar to what the MILF unit commander had told us.

   
But I refused to readily accept that there was no booby trap.

   
I thought perhaps they were farther out in the field. A quick scan and still I couldn't find any tell-tale sign of an explosion. No tripwires, crater or fallen corn and banana consistent with an explosion.

   
And so I finally entered the house. It was an eerie feeling.

 

I could just imagine how the Philippines' most wanted man went around the house, perhaps cooking his food inside the first room where the single entrance was located. And maybe eating at the adjacent room where signs of an attack could still be found. The plates, water jug and other household items all had bullet holes.
 

I then entered Marwan's room. The picture of him lying on his side, his finger missing and a gun holster nearby remained vividly etched on my mind as I scanned the whole room. It was much smaller than I imagined from the SAF pictures that came out initially proving that the suspected terrorist was killed.

 

There was not much in the room. Most of Marwan's belongings were no longer there. The only significant item was a black plastic tarp seen in the background of Marwan's now infamous picture minutes after he was killed. The plastic had two holes on it.

   
Other than some bullet and shrapnel holes on the wall, the room looked pristine. Not banged-up as one might expect from an encounter with a suspected international terrorist blamed for the deaths of hundreds, probably thousands, of innocent people.

   
A signature, I thought, of a precise SAF commando operation.

   
Outside Marwan's house, our guide led us to a burned part on the ground just below the hut's wooden floor. This was where Marwan's blood spilled, according to him. It was burned by residents of nearby houses, "so the soul of the person killed will not return to haunt those living in the area."

   
From Marwan's house, we proceeded to a mosque and a nearby house more or less a hundred meters away. It is the former house of Ustadz Bagindali, a local MILF commander who died sometime in 2008, our guide said. Since the house is abandoned, it is usually used by Filipino bomb-maker Basit Usman whenever he is in the area.

   
This information, according to our guide, came from reports he got from sources in the local government after the Mamasapano encounter.

   
Before I could explore more of the area, the MILF fighter holding the two-way radio received numerous calls. It was time to go, according to our guide. The MILF fighters had seen movements of unidentified people nearby.
 

Walking back to our boats waiting near the river, we started hearing the humming sound of a plane. I immediately recognized the sound. I heard it countless of times during my coverage in the Zamboanga Peninsula and Basilan.
 

And so I jokingly asked my crew and the MILF fighters to wave in the air. Somebody is watching us, I told them. My news crew readily obliged. The MILF fighters gave me a puzzled look.

   
Later, they told me that they have been hearing the plane since that morning, but they couldn't see it.

   
Upon boarding our boats, the fighters relaxed a bit. I somehow felt they have control over the river. Everyone completely relaxed upon reaching the MILF-controlled village. The humming sound of the plane was still very audible over the quiet open field.

   
Then the MILF fighters excitedly pointed to the sky. A break in the cloud revealed a tiny white speck in the sky. "That's the spy plane," they said in chorus.

   
My cameraman tried to take a video of the white speck, but it was too far for his lens.

   
Fortunately, my camera, which was equipped with a 1360-mm equivalent lens, was with me. But after only three shots, the plane disappeared into the clouds. But it was enough.

   
Our guide then ushered us back into the commander's house. Late lunch was about to be served. Since we were no longer in a hurry, we could eat in peace, he quipped.

 
But I was only half-amused. I had a deadline to beat. — RSJ/KBK/KG, GMA News