Manila, Friday, 31 October 1941 – The Malacañan Palace
President Macadandang shut the radio set off, nearly breaking off the switch.
“How dare a mere senator – even Soriano – speak of me in such a manner?” he asked of Quirino, who had returned from a sleepless night spent in his office. “I am the President, the Minister of War, and the Minister of the Interior! He is but a mere senator, I don’t care how rich!”
“But he is respected by the people,” Quirino ventured, “and he is in control of the radio station.”
“Damn that fool Marcos! I specifically ordered him to take the broadcast building as his first task.”
The young Ferdinand Marcos was one of the President’s most ardent supporters. It was regrettable that the impulsive young man died in one of the first clashes of the day.
“And where is Quimbo? The Army should have swept away this rabble by now!” The President stalked across to the door of his office, opened it and shouted to his assembled aides. “Where is Chief of Staff Quimbo?”
“Senor Presidente,” ventured one of the braver aides. “We have not heard from General Quimbo since last evening.”
“Get someone at Fort Bonafacio on the line immediately. I want to know why the Army has not crushed this rabble. Then get me Admiral Vasca at Cavite.”
“Senor Presidente,” the aide responded, “the telephone lines to Cavite are cut.”
Quirino saw his opportunity.
“I shall go to Cavite personally – I shall have the Marines clearing the streets within an hour.”
Macadandang smiled with relief. “Elpidio, I knew I could rely on you. Yes, go to Cavite – tell the Marines to clear the streets at bayonet point.”
Manila, Friday, 31 October 1941 – Intramuros
The walls of the Old City of Manila had long ago been breached by urban reconstruction, but Intramuros still retained the character of a fortress. There were relatively few entrances, and it was a warren of narrow streets. The first squads of police auxiliaries that tried to find opponents off the President found that the citizenry had raised barricades along the principal streets, and they attacked the Populist League thugs with rocks, bottles, clubs and – as they were pried from the hands of the dead or wounded – with small arms.
Alfonso Enrile had managed to leave the Malacañan Palace shortly before dawn. He was of a like mind with Quirino that the President’s action was madness, and that this throw of the dice would prove bootless. The Vice President had made it clear that his intention was to flee the country – quite probably for his life. Enrile feared that the maddened crowd might do likewise with him, but he chose another course. He might be able to strike a deal with Soriano, and he knew the one person who might be able to arrange it. So he too tried to make his way – as quietly as possible – into Intramuros, to find in sanctuary the one man who could save him.
The façade of the Cathedral Basilica of the Immaculate Conception loomed ahead of him – the square before it appeared empty, for the fighting was far distant. Darting from shadow to shadow he made his way as quickly towards Manila’s cathedral, seat of Archbishop Reyes, into whose hands Enrile was ready to entrust himself.
Some moments later the door to the Archbishop’s office was opened by one of the canons of the cathedral. “Your Eminence,” he said, “a visitor.”
The archbishop looked up at Enrile who stood shaking at his doorstep. “Come in my son,” he said. “We have much to speak of.”
The Provinces, Friday, 31 October 1941 – Morning
Thanks to the preparations of the conspirators their supporters in the provinces were primed for the news coming from the capital, and reacted accordingly. For the most part the military garrisons stood aside, not wanting to take action on behalf of a regime they despised and detested; in some places, where officers loyal to Macadandang had ordered their troops into action, the soldiers had refused to obey. The Philippine Constabulary enforced law and order but refused to arrest the opponents of the president, and indeed, took into custody the “Special Police Auxiliaries” who tried to do so. On the whole the nation looked on, awaiting the outcome of the fighting in the capital; Macadandang’s partisans, whose numbers had shrunk over the last few months, began to look to save themselves rather than lord it over their neighbors.