The Pearl of the Orient

CHAPTER I

CASTS

JUAN LAXAMANA'S FAMILY:

1. Juan Laxamana

2. Maria Cortez-Laxamana (wife)

3. Jane Cortez-Arellano (sister-in-law)

4. Stephen Arellano (brother-in-law)

5. Isabelle Cortez (mother-in-law)

6. James Cortez (father-in-law)

THE EMPIRE & CO-PROSPERITY REPRESENTATIVES

(Present at the Philippine Liberation Day):

1. The Emperor (Emperor Hirohito)

2. Prime Minister Hiroya Ino of the Japanese Empire

3. Prime Minister Ruan Zhenduo of Manchuria

4. Thawan Thamrongnawasawat of Thailand

5. Vice President Mohammad Hatta of Indonesia

6. Chief Executive Suzuki Teiichi of Guangdong

1960s SECOND PHILIPPINE REPUBLIC:

1. President Jose Yulo

2. Vice President Manuel Roxas

3. Executive Secretary Benigno Aquino Jr.

4. Quintin Paredes

5. Claro Recto

6. Sergio Osmena Jr.

LEADERS OF THE PHILIPPINE UNITED FRONT:

1. Luis Taruc (Hukbalahap)

2. Ramon Magsaysay (United Democratic Front)

3. Lorenzo Tanada (United Democratic Front)

4. Carlos Romulo (Commonwealth Remnants)

PHILIPPINE UNITED FRONT (Hukbalahap):

1. Luis Taruc (leader)

2. Joma Sison (co-leader)

3. Edgar Jopson

4. Carlos Bulosan

5. Cesario Manarang

6. Rodolfo Salas

7. Macli-ing Dulag

8. Conrado Balweg

PHILIPPINE UNITED FRONT (UDF & Commonwealth Remnants):

1. Ramon Magsaysay (UDF)

2. Lorenzo Tanada (UDF)

3. Carlos Romulo (Commonwealth Remnant)

4. Jose Diokno (UDF)

5. Jose Roy (Commonwealth Remnant)

6. Carlos Garcia (UDF)

7. Ferdinand Marcos (UDF)

8. Gil Puyat (UDF)

9. Jesus Amdo Araneta (Commonwealth Remnant)

10. Wendell Fentig (Commonwealth Remnant)

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December 1962...

Almost all of the passengers on the train to Blumentritt Station from Sorisu Station[1], like Juan and his family, were heading to the Liberation Day celebrations. And, no, it wasn't your typical holiday like it had been in previous years. The Emperor and his royal family took a vacation in the Philippines. Out of all the countries in Dai Toa Kyoeiken, or the Co-Prosperity Sphere, the Philippines is regarded as a gateway to paradise by both Japanese and non-Japanese residents. The majority of visitors from other Co-Prosperity Sphere countries come to the Philippines for leisure such as vacation, tour, or even study. For this reason, there are countless tourists and students alike that flock into the Philippines each year. But not only was it one of the country's most popular destinations for people of other Co-Prosperity nations, but its capital Manila was also where most of the richest citizens of Co-Prosperity; either Japanese, Manchu, Chosenjin (Korean), Taiwanese, Filipino, or Thai, resided in luxury apartments overlooking the Manila Bay, which provided the greatest variety of foodstuffs and seafoods to be found anywhere. It was said, "You cannot have the best of everything. You must taste each of the foods." Of course, with such an extensive selection of cuisine, most tourist attractions were designed in such a way that they were more for taste than profit, but even so, the prices were exorbitant. Due to how successful tourism is in the Philippines and the Empire's Nanshin-ron doctrine, the Japanese sees the Philippines as its most important economic colony of the economically dependent members within the Empire's sphere. There were plans to make the Philippines a new Co-Equal Member of The Sphere thanks to Sergio Osmena Jr's and Claro Recto's moves (for political purposes) and connections to make the Philippines as one of the top countries in the Co-Prosperity Sphere.

Although it is a cloudy morning, rain is expected soon because it is the final month of typhoon season. And Christmas is quickly approaching. And of course, it's the Liberation Day which is the twentieth anniversary of the Japanese liberation of the Philippines from American imperialists according to Imperial propaganda. So today is supposed to be the day to bring back memories of the old Empire, but many young people who have been living their whole lives here believe that the Golden Age of the Japanese Empire is nearing at its end, probably due to rumors about the internal conflict within the Japanese government at the Imperial Heartland[2] and the never-ending war in China with the insurgents began to have series of victories against the Empire. Anyhow, they rush home to celebrate the Liberation Day with their family, their friends, or their loved ones.

Men and women wore raincoats in case it rained, or their usual casual Americanized-style clothing with Filipino or Japanese umbrellas.

Juan motioned Maria and her mother to take a seat and await the arrival of the train.

Juan took in his surroundings as the train rumbled out of Blumentritt Station. Everyone appeared sad and dull, as befitting the occasion. Most war veterans, including Maria's father, would already be in the north of Greater Manila, specifically in northern Manila, preparing for the march past the Manila Patriotic Cemetery and Memorial[3].

Juan was a veteran of World War II, specifically the brief January-April 1942 battle known as the Battle of Bataan or the Last Stand, depending on political preferences among Imperial loyalists and pro-Independence revolutionaries. He remembered well how he saw the men fall around him when they didn't advance quickly enough to counter Japanese attacks, how some tried to fight with him to protect those left behind, how a bullet ripped through his arm, and finally how the wounded soldiers and sailors dragged themselves to safety. But none of the events affected him so much anymore. In fact, they almost seemed surreal for him since nothing else had changed anyway. Even though he knew that he should mourn the dead and the wounded for what they sacrificed, he couldn't muster up any emotion to do it. And if he did feel something about them, he couldn't tell what it was, or why. All he could remember clearly were their faces. Their eyes were empty as they stared up at him, devoid of life, while they were being killed. Their blood stained the ground beneath him. The smell made his head spin. Everything became blurred. His entire world went black and then white. And just as he was about to faint, unconsciousness took him under. When he woke up, he was already captured by the Imperial Japanese Army and was a participant of the Death March.

Juan survived the Bataan Death March, an event that the general public is unaware of, and was denied a place at the Liberation Day ceremonies. Neither did the Filipino soldiers who died elsewhere in the Philippine archipelago. Remember the day when the Japanese saved the Philippines from American tyranny; remember that we will never be subservient again. As a client state, the Philippines must maintain favorable treatment and high prestige within the Empire. It is our duty to help build a new nation. We must stand by our Emperor and uphold the honor of the Empire. That is the Philippines' mission in this wretched era under the Japanese.

Maria's mother commented, "It's very... cloudy. I'm hoping it doesn't rain."

"It'll be fine, Tita Belle," Juan assured her. "The forecast said it would just stay cloudy."

"But there are other people who wore raincoats already," Belle said as she observed others donning raincoats. Juan shook his head.

Isabelle or Belle is a plump little woman in her sixties who has spent her entire life caring for Maria's father, who had his right leg blown off by Japanese bombs on Corregidor back in 1942.

"Marching in the rain gets very uncomfortable for James," she explained. "Water drips behind his prosthesis, and he can't take it off."

Maria took her mother's hand in hers. Her strong round chin and square face. Her father's chin was dignified. Her long black hair was curled at the ends and framed by a simple women's sombrero. Belle gave her a friendly smile. The train came to a halt at a station, and more passengers boarded. Maria looked at Juan.

"There are more people than usual."

"I imagine people wanting to get a first look at the Emperor." Juan replied

"I hope we find Stephen and Jane okay," Belle expressed concern once more.

Maria explained, "I told them to meet us by the ticket booths at Blumentritt Station. They'll be there, ma, don't worry."

Juan peered out the window. He didn't want to spend the afternoon with his wife's sister and her husband. Even though Jane was full of silly ideas and never stopped talking, Juan despised Stephen, with his oily charm and arrogance, and his pro-Imperial politics. Juan's lip would have to be buttoned as usual.

The train came to a jolting halt just before the entrance to an overpass. As brakes engaged, there was a hiss somewhere.

"Por favor, wag ngayon!" exclaimed someone.

"It's a disgrace that these delays are getting worse."

Outside, Juan noticed that the streets were deserted. Just below them, a grocery store window displayed a prominent sign that read, Mga Food Stamps Na Kinunan Dito.

The train jerked forward into the overpass, only to judder back to a halt a few moments later. Juan noticed his own face reflected in the window, his head framed by his dark coat's wide lapels. His unlined, regular features gave him the appearance of being younger than forty-five; he was deceptively unmarked.

He was reminded of a childhood memory, his mother's constant refrain to female visitors.

"Isn't he a good-looking boy, couldn't you just eat him?" she asked, her Kapampangan accent sharp. He squirmed with embarrassment.

Another uninvited memory surfaced: when he was seventeen and had won the inter-schools Basketball Cup. He remembered standing on the court, surrounded by a sea of faces. The jumpshot comes after two steps forward.

BANG! LAXAMANA GETS THREE POINTS! OH MY GOD! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT, FOLKS? HIS TEAM WON! The excitement, followed by the exhilaration of striking out into silence.

Stephen and Jane were stationed at Blumentritt. Maria's older sister, Jane, was also tall, but she had a dimpled chin like her mother. Stephen was a raffishly handsome man with a thin moustache that made him look like a shaved-faced Antonio Luna. As Juan shook his brother-in-law's hand, he could smell hairwax.

Stephen inquired, "How's the Imperial Civil Service, old man?"

Juan smiled as he said, "Surviving."

"Are you still keeping an eye for a position in KALIBAPI?"

"Something like that. How are the boys?"

"Good. Getting bigger and noisier every week. We might bring them next year, they're getting old enough." Juan noticed a shadow pass across Maria's face and knew she was remembering their own dead son.

"We should hurry and get a tram to Aurora." Jane said. "Look around at all these people."

They followed the crowd to the escalator. The crowd's pace slowed to a silent shuffle as they pressed together, reminding Juan for a moment of his time as a soldier, shuffling with the rest of the tired troops onto the battle and then in the Bataan Death March in 1942.

They arrived at Aurora Boulevard via a tram. Juan's office was located directly behind the Manila Patriotic Cemetery and Memorial. Men passing by would still remove their hats respectfully and unconsciously, though fewer and fewer with each passing year. The sky was grey-white, and the air was a little stale. A line of policemen stood in front of people jostling quietly and politely for positions behind the low metal barriers opposite the tall white rectangle of the hospital.

In their helmets, some were ordinary constabularies, but many were Philippine Constabularies in their flat peaked caps and slimmer khaki uniforms. Juan's father had said that when the Constabularies were first formed in the early 1930s to deal with growing unrest orchestrated by the Sakdalistas, they reminded him of the Sakdalista, the first-generation of Filipino fascists (more like left nationalists) founded by Benigno Ramos that was instigating a National Revolution during the May 1935 Uprising in which he and the Sakdalistas horribly failed.

In recent years, the ceremony had changed; serving personnel were no longer paraded around the MPCM, blocking the public view, and wooden boards had been laid on blocks behind the barriers to give people a better vantage point. It was part of President José Yulo's effort to "demystify the thing."

The family was able to secure a good location opposite Blumentritt Road, which housed Juan's office.

Military and religious leaders had already taken their places beyond the barriers, which formed three sides of a hollow square around the MPCM. Archbishop Rufino Santos, head of the Catholic Bishops' Conference of the Philippines (CBCP) that had not split in opposition to his compromises with the regime, was dressed in stunning white-and-gold vestments.

Politicians and ambassadors stood beside them, each holding a cross. When Juan examined them, he noticed President Yulo, who had a stern expression on his face. Yulo had built a newspaper empire with political maneuvering, using his close aide, Sergio Osmena Jr., a Filipino zaibatsu, to push his causes of free enterprise, the Republic, and appeasement on the public and politicians. President Yulo was trusted by few, elected by none, and appointed by the KALIBAPI after the death of his predecessor, Jose Laurel, in 1959.

Manuel Roxas, now Vice President, stood next to Yulo. Roxas was now almost bald, his cadaverous face an ashen shadow beneath his hat, deep-set eyes staring blankly over the crowd though covered by his sunglasses. Yulo's colleagues stood beside him: Sergio Osmena Jr., Quintin Parades, and Claro Recto; who led his own faction in KALIBAPI called Parliamentarians.

Following them were representatives from the other Co-Prosperity nations.

A short distance away, a group of men gathered around an outside-broadcast camera, an enormous squat thing trailing thick wires, ABS-CBN emblazoned on the side. Next to it, a large figure in the shape of Nick Joaquin could be seen speaking into a microphone, though he was too far away for Juan to hear anything.

Maria shivered, her gloved hands rubbing together.

"Putang ina, ang lamig. Poor pa will feel it standing around waiting for the march past to begin," she said, looking at the bare white memorial. "Diyos ko, it's all so sad."

"At the very least, we know we'll never go to war with Japan again," Jane explained.

"Look, there he is," Belle said, her voice fearful but curious.

The Emperor had emerged from the building. Accompanied by Prime Minister Hiroya Ino and the Kempeitai. His aging face complemented his black clothing. This was one of his few public appearances since the Japanese dropped the atomic bomb on Pearl Harbor on July 4, 1945. Although it was not obvious, the Emperor was overjoyed that he was able to visit the Philippines, a land of a thousand paradises. In terms of economy and civilization, the Philippines is second only to Japan and is currently on par with Co-Prosperity countries such as Guangdong, Manchuria and Thailand, and the Japanese hold them in high regard.

Jane was staring at the Emperor. "Scary man," she said.

Juan cast a glance around. "You shouldn't make that kind of statement," he said quietly, "because there are Filipinos here who are more loyal to the Empire than to their own people, and they could report you to the Kempeitai."

"What other choice do they have?"

Juan remained silent.

People in the crowd looked at their watches before falling silent. Then, shockingly loud in the still air, came the sound of a large gun firing, signaling the end of the war in 1945. Everyone bowed their heads in silence for two minutes, remembering the terrible costs of the Philippine victory over Spain in 1898, or, perhaps, those of his Motherland's defeat in 1942, as Juan did. Even the Emperor bowed in respect. What a surreal experience.

Two minutes later, the Philippine Constabulary's field-gun fired again, breaking the silence. The last post's notes were sounded by a bugler, and they were indescribably haunting and sad. The crowd listened intently in the rain, the only sound being a stifled cough and raindrops. Juan always wondered why no one in the audience ever burst out crying or fell shrieking to the ground when he attended the ceremony.

The final note faded away. The Emperor then carried a red rose, heavily accompanied by the Kempeitai, to the sound of Rosalina Abejo's Ode of the Statesman. He placed it on the MPCM and stood with his head bowed. The Filipinos were stunned and amazed, as they found the event surreal. Why would an Emperor prostrate himself before Filipino soldiers killed by his own people, the Japanese? He walked back into the building slowly.

"Do you believe this is a ploy to keep us loyal to the Empire?" Maria asked.

Juan replied quietly, "Yes."

A Rising Sun insignia was placed in the center of the memorial's white background. Juan placed the red rose and stood with his head bowed.

Then there was a loud shout from behind Juan.

"End Japanese control! Philippine Independence now! Para sa Pilipinas!" Something flew over the crowd's heads and landed at Prime Minister Hiroya Ino's feet. Maria exclaimed. Jane and several other women in the audience screamed.

The steps of the MPCM and the bottom of Ino's coat were instantly streaked with red, and Juan thought it was blood, that someone had thrown a bomb, until he saw a paint-pot rattle down the steps onto the pavement. Ino didn't move an inch, just stood there. The Kempeitai then surrounded Ino to protect him. Kempeitai and Philippine Constabulary were both reaching for their katanas, batons, and pistols. A group of Imperial soldiers stepped forward, rifles drawn. Juan noticed the Imperial Family being escorted away.

"j**s out!" yelled someone in the crowd.

"We want TARUC! We want MAGSAYSAY! We want TAÑADA!"

The Constabulary was now leaping over the barriers, while the Kempeitai began violently arresting the troublemakers who were chanting pro-Independence slogans. A couple of men in the crowd had also produced guns and were looking around with vigor: Coordinating Agency men.

Juan drew Maria closer to him. The crowd parted to allow the police to pass, and he noticed a fight to his right. He saw a baton raised and heard someone encouragingly call out to the cops, "Get the bastards!"

"Oh my God, what are they doing?" Maria wondered.

"f*****g communists, beat their heads in!" said by Stephen.

A thin man with a sunburned face, carrying a megaphone, climbed the steps of the MPCM, picking his way through red roses, and called for order from the crowd.

"Did they get them?" Maria queried Juan. "I couldn't see."

"Yes, I believe there were only a few."

"It's f*****g treason!" exclaimed Stephen. "I hope they are tortured and executed by the Kempeitai!"

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The ceremony continued with the remainder of the red roses, followed by a brief service led by Archbishop Santos. He said a prayer, the microphone producing an odd, tiny echo.

"Oh Lord, look down on us as we remember the brave men who died fighting for the Philippines; we remember the soldiers who died between 1941 and 1943, that great and tragic conflict that still marks us all, here and across Asia; Lord, remember the pain of those gathered here today who have lost loved ones; comfort them, comfort them."

Then came the march past, thousands of soldiers, many of whom were now old and middle-aged, marching proudly in lines as the band played popular Pacific War tunes, each contingent laying a red rose.

Juan and his family kept an eye out for Maria's father, but they didn't see him. The MPCM steps were still splotched with red, with Hiroya's Rising Sun standing out among the red roses.

Juan wondered who the protesters were. Perhaps one of the independent pacifist organizations not affiliated with the Philippine United Front[4]. The PUF's left wing Hukbalahap, led by Luis Taruc, would have shot Hiroya, as well as many high-ranking Imperials present in the Liberation Day, but for fear of retaliation; poor patriots, whoever they were, would be getting a beating in a Coordinating Agency Center now, or perhaps even in the Japanese basement, which will be handled by the Kempeitai. The Philippine Constabulary may have handed over the demonstrators if it had been an attack on Hiroya.

He felt helpless. He hadn't even contradicted Stephen, but he needed to keep his cover intact, never cross the line, and play the model civil servant. All the more so given Maria's family history. Juan felt a stab of unreasonable annoyance toward his wife.

His gaze returned to the veterans. A man in his sixties marched by, his face stern and defiant, his chest proudly thrust out. On one side of his coat, a row of medals was pinned, but on the other, a large, bright red "**" was sewn. Filipino-Chinese were regarded as Chinese rather than Filipinos. The Han Chinese were regarded as being at the bottom of the Imperial hierarchy, comparable to Jews and Romanis in the Greater Germanic Reich though not as terrible as the Jews and the Romanis.

The Chinese knew to stay out of the spotlight now, not to draw attention, but the old man had defied common sense by marching in a prominent character, even though he could have gotten away with the small Han Character lapel badge that all Chinese had to wear now, very Filipino and discrete.

Someone in the crowd yelled, "Chekwa!" The old man did not flinch, but Juan did, with rage coursing through him. He was aware that he, too, should have worn a red badge and should not have worked in government service, which was forbidden to pure Han blood, halfling Han, people of Han descent, or anything that is associated with anything Sangley.

But Juan's father, who lived nineteen thousand kilometers away, was the only other person who knew his mother was a Mestiza de Sangley. In the Philippines, half a Sangley was now considered a "Chinese" and the penalty for concealing your identity was indefinite detention.

He declared himself a Catholic in the 1945 census, when people were asked for the first time to state their religion. He'd done the same thing when renewing his identity card, and he'd done it again in the 1961 census, which asked about Chinese parents or grandparents this time. But, no matter how many times Juan pushed it all to the back of his mind, he would wake up terrified in the middle of the night.

The rest of the ceremony went on as planned, and they met up with James, Maria's father, before returning to Juan and Maria's Filipino architecture house in Sorisu[5], where Maria would cook dinner for them all.

James had been unaware of the paint-throwing until his family informed him, despite noticing the red stain on the MPMC steps. On the way back, he said almost nothing about it, and neither did Maria or Juan, despite Jane and, especially, Stephen's outrage.

When they returned home, Stephen suggested they watch the news to see what was said about the attack. Juan turned on the television and shifted the chairs to face it. He didn't like how most people now arrange their furniture around the television.

Over the last decade, half of the population had acquired what was still referred to as an "i***t-box." Having a television was a sign of the sharp chasm between rich and poor. It was on its way to taking over national life. It wasn't quite time for the news because a children's dramatization of some Astro Boy adventure story was on, featuring Imperial heroes, treacherous countrymen, and evil Western imperialists.

Maria brought them tea, and Juan passed the cigarette box around. He cast a glance at James. Despite his post-Pacific War conversion to pacifism, his father-in-law always marched in the Liberation Day parade. He respected his old comrades, no matter how much he despised war.

The news began to play. They stood there as the Emperor paid his respects, listening to Joaquin's resonant, respectful reporting. However, ABS-CBN did not show the Hiroya incident; instead, they simply cut away from the Co-Prosperity representatives' red rose-laying.

There was a flicker on the screen that you wouldn't notice unless you were looking for it, and there was no break in the commentary, implying that ABS-CBN technicians re-recorded it later.

"Nothing," Jane replied.

"They must have decided not to report it," Maria observed, her face flushed from cooking.

"I wonder what else they don't report," James observed quietly.

Stephen looked at him. He was dressed in one of his brightly colored sweaters, his plump stomach straining it unattractively.

"They don't want people to be upset," he explains. "Seeing something like that happen on Liberation Day."

"People should know," Jane stated vehemently. "They should see what these despicable terrorists do, especially in front of the Emperor! No wonder he's rarely seen in public. It's a disgrace!"

Juan then spoke up before he could stop himself. "It's what happens when people aren't the true leaders of the country, but merely puppets."

Stephen flipped on him. He was still enraged and looking for a fight. "You must mean us Filipinos, I suppose."

Juan shrugged noncommittally, despite his desire to knock every tooth out of Stephen head. His brother-in-law went on,

"The Japanese are our partners, and we are very fortunate to have them."

"Lucky for those who make money trading with them," Juan exclaimed.

"What the f**k's that supposed to mean? Is that a dig at my business in the Filipino-Japanese Fellowship?"

Juan gave him a scowl. "If the cap fits."

"You'd rather have the United Front people in charge, I suppose? Old bitter men like Tañada and Carlos Romulo, with the bunch of Communists, Liberals and pro-American Commonwealth traitors they've got themselves with. Murdering soldiers, blowing people up like that little girl who stepped on one of their mines in Pampanga last week." He was beginning to get red in the face.

Maria demanded emphatically, "Please." She exchanged a look with Jane and said, "Don't start an argument."

"OK," Stephen said, stepping back. "I don't want to ruin the day any more than those swine have, so much for civil servants being impartial," he sarcastically added.

"What was that, Stephen?" Juan inquired.

Stephen raised his hands, palms up, and said, "Nothing. Peace lang."

"Hiroya," James lamented.

"He was a soldier in the Pacific War, like me. If only Liberation Day could be less military, people might not feel the need to protest," he added. "The Japanese are oddly not broadcasting about current events in the Imperial Heartland these days, and with America under the Nixon presidency, perhaps changes will come," he said to his wife, smiling.

"I always said they would if we waited long enough," Belle replied, returning James' smile.

"I'm sure they'd have told us if the Taisei Yokusankai[6] was collapsing, which is far from the case. Don't believe in such rumors, Pa." Stephen sneered.

Juan gave Maria a sidelong glance but said nothing.

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Juan and Maria argued after the rest of the family had left in Steven's new Isuzu Bellett.

"Why do you have to fight him in front of everyone?" Maria inquired. She appeared exhausted. She'd been waiting on the family all afternoon, and her hair was limp and her voice was rough.

"Today of all days, in front of Papa," she paused, then continued bitterly, "You were the one who told me years ago to stay out of politics, that it was safer to remain silent."

"I'm sorry, but Stephen can't keep his damn trap shut, and today it was just... too much."

"How do you think these fights make Jane and me feel?"

"You don't dislike him any more than I do."

"We have to put up with him for the sake of the family."

"Yes, and go visit him, look at that picture on the mantelpiece of him and his business pals with Tanaka, see his Laurelian[7] books and The Proclamation of the New Philippines on the bookshelf," Juan said solemnly.

"I'm not sure why he doesn't just join KALIBAPI or the Constabulary and be done with it, but then he'd have to exercise and lose some of that fat."

Then, Maria unexpectedly yelled.

"Haven't we been through enough? Haven't we?" she yelled as she stormed out of the lounge.

When Juan heard her enter the kitchen, the door slammed shut. He stood up and started loading the dirty plates and cutlery onto the trolley. He rolled it into the small hall. He couldn't help but look up as he passed the staircase, to the torn wallpaper at the top and bottom of the stairs, where the little gates had stood.

Since Cristian's death, he and Maria had discussed getting a new wallpaper. But, like so many other things, they had never gotten around to it. He'd rush over to her, apologize, and try to bridge the ever-widening chasm.

Though he knew it couldn't be closed because of the secrets he had to keep.