"The next time you get into a brawl again, I'll have you run with kaings of coconuts on your backs!" I hollered from my window, a cup of coffee in hand, as the offending recruits passed by below. At the head of the pack was Montiano, who had taken a blow during the fight that left his right cheek swollen. None of them dared to look up or make a sound, though I knew they clearly heard me.
Eight recruits had been listed as participants in the fistfight—three from the 2nd platoon and four from the 3rd. Triviño and Dimalanta managed to piece together what caused the incident. The 2nd platoon had immediately moved back after seeing my 'retreat' hand signal, but the 3rd platoon failed to do the same, resulting in a crash—several recruits from the latter were trampled by soldiers from the former. Tired and irritated by the heat, tempers flared and fists flew.
