Very often, we view heroes as people of distinguished courage or ability, people who have saved lives, or in the context of our modern world - people with supernatural abilities.

I caught a snippet of a documentary on the History Channel titled, "Memories of the Manilla battle". The "Manilla battle" was, as a matter of fact, referring to the japanese invasion during WWII. Many of the survivors interviewed had lost their loved ones to the senseless killings of japanese soldiers; each and every one of them had tears trickling down their cheeks, as they relived the harrowing moments of their past. It was undeniably the nadir of their lives. I thought to myself: "How much they must've hated the Japanese!"

I was wrong.

"It was not their fault, for they were only following orders. Forgive and forget.. I can only leave them to God."

"I regretted taking revenge on them with that machine gun. I believe in God, but what I'd done was unacceptable to Him."

These were the true words of the survivors, whom their friends and family were massacred by the harbingers of death - the Japanese.

In all honor and glory, they're my heroes.



I woke up this morning with tears welling up in my eyes. Vivid images of my grandfather had flashed past in a haphazard manner. Granddad, I miss you.