Philippine Navy Computer Center

Magkaiba man ang ating simula, sa lungsod o bukid ng Asia, kung iisa ang landas nating tinatahak, sabay rin tayong darating sa kanluran.

Alamin mo kapag gusto mong tanggapin ang binibigay saiyo!

Let's gather, hearts unchained,
To celebrate the risen refrain.
For Christ, for us, for all who cope,
Hope resurrected, soaring with hope.

My journey into the world of computers during the COBOL era with Burroughs!

In the dim glow of a green-screen terminal,
I sat, wide-eyed, fingers poised over the keys.
The room hummed with the promise of punch cards, And the air smelled of magnetic tape and aged wisdom. Burroughs B4700, our silent sentinel. Its blinking lights whispered secrets of bygone days.
I navigated the cryptic syntax of COBOL,
A language as ancient as the cosmic code itself.
The mainframe towered like an oracle,
Its memory banks echoing with forgotten stories.
I punched in my first program, a humble payroll system,
And watched as the printer spat out line after line of numbers.
“Hello, World,” I whispered, and the machine hummed back,
A chorus of magnetic heads dancing across platters.
The compiler grumbled, the assembler sang,
And I wove logic like a digital sorcerer.
In the card punch room, I threaded punch cards with care,
Each hole a portal to a world of calculations.
I fed them to the hungry reader, praying for no typos,
As if the universe itself depended on my accuracy.
Grace Hopper smiled down from a faded poster,
Her legacy etched into every line of code.
“It’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission,” she’d said,
And so I dared to dream of algorithms and subroutines.
The bursts of fanfold paper held my late-night musings,
Programs that danced like electronic waltzes.
I debugged with the tenacity of a moth drawn to light,
Chasing elusive semicolons and mismatched parentheses.
And when the system crashed, as it often did,
I rebooted my resolve, undeterred by core dumps.
For I was a weaver of logic, a pioneer of pixels,
And the bursts of fanfold paper whispered my name.
So here’s to the days of COBOL and Burroughs,
To the binary symphony that shaped my soul.
Though screens have turned colorful, and languages evolved,
I’ll forever cherish those green-screen moments—my digital genesis.