By Dirk “Dutch” Dykstra (All Day/Speechless/Dinner)
“No more breakfasts and no more dinners!!” was the sound that woke me from a restless, nervous sleep. “From now on only lunches until our demands are met!!” the voice continued. Although I cannot see the man who the voice belongs to from my improvised cell, I know it is the taller one who is the leader of my kidnappers. I have been here for roughly two and a half months. I’m not sure about how many days I missed earlier when I was in and out of conciousness during the time shortly after I was captured. But I’m pretty sure it can’t be much so my estimate is fairly accurate. Also the fact that the holidays are approaching and they are planning one more video to send with demands lets me know that my “calendar” is close to being spot on.
I’m a war correspondent covering the fighting in Afghanistan, I was freelancing and hoping to put together an on the ground perspective that would show both sides of this conflict with an objective viewpoint of each: the U.S. Soldiers and the local rebel forces as well. It seems very ironic now that I have been beaten, starved and treated the way I have for so long that I held to the belief that this was something that reporting could solve or make people back home understand.
The influences and stimuli that the locals are bombarded with since birth has left very little, if any chance that they will not grow to at the very least dislike the western world. And more than a few hate us intensely, and if you were raised here and knew nothing else I cannot logically argue that it would be any different. I have been working on this journal as I am not hopeful that any ransom demand will be met. If it is found please get this to my friend and editor Mr. Bob Schulie of Norfolk, Virginia. Sounds like they are getting ready to make the video by the noise outside. I will write more later.
The video shoot was no different than the others. Many demands, some threats and a few other miscellaneous statements about how this is all Americas doing. It ate up the rest of the day and now I’m pretty tired and hungry, I am so hungry. Even with the three paltry meals a day I was worried about malnutrition, scurvy and other things. With the recent ration cut I don’t know how long I’ll be able to avoid serious illness. I will try to write more later.
Haven’t been able to write for three days now since last time. Lots of interruptions for picture taking and bouts of interrogation and being screamed at. The leader is growing frustrated and angrier. I do not know how much longer I have. . . . also getting weaker and I am very tired all of the time.
Five days after my last entry I was hauled out of my cell and quickly blindfolded and tied to a chair. More torture was the first thought that crossed my mind. But after a short questioning session (which is always routine) I was merely slapped and then left in the dark. A few hours later I awoke to the sound of voices, one obviously being the leader and one I do not know. . . .they are not speaking English so I cannot understand the first part but as they get closer they switch to my language as I strain to overhear what they are saying, while I try to look unconscious or asleep at the same time. “ I want you to take him out past the edge of town, and finish this.” I hear the leader say. The stranger replies “ This is what we have been planning for, it will be a great day for our cause.” “ You must make sure to take many pictures to bring me, I have to send them out by midnight so the infidels will see what has happened since they have chosen not to meet our demands.” The leader barks at the new man. “ You will see, I will do well. I will not fail.” He replies.
Darkness in the truck, bouncing around like a beer can choking on the hot dust I think we will never be stopped and begin to worry that not only will I die today but I may very well die in my own feces which is an unnerving thought. Then after what seems like forever we come to a stop. I hear the tailgate open and I feel the hands of at least two men pulling me out and standing me on my feet. However I have been hungry so long, and in the truck without water that my legs cannot hold me and I fall to my knees. A large dirty hand grabs the back of my head and snaps it up as the other rips off my blindfold. There are bright lights in my eyes and I cannot see. From somewhere at the end of a long tunnel I hear a loud, confident voice that says “ It’s going to be alright son. . . .it’s ok we’re a Navy Seal hostage extaction team and we’re here to take you home. I know your weak and the lights hurt your eyes, but I need to get you in this chopper ASAP. I don’t know how much more of a window we have. I need you to stand and try and walk and we’ll help you . . . let’s go home.” As I stand wobbling on my feet to embrace the man that belongs to the voice and I begin to sob quietly I am trying as hard as I can to say thank you, but I am. . . . speechless.
“No more breakfasts and no more dinners!!” was the sound that woke me from a restless, nervous sleep. “From now on only lunches until our demands are met!!” the voice continued. Although I cannot see the man who the voice belongs to from my improvised cell, I know it is the taller one who is the leader of my kidnappers. I have been here for roughly two and a half months. I’m not sure about how many days I missed earlier when I was in and out of conciousness during the time shortly after I was captured. But I’m pretty sure it can’t be much so my estimate is fairly accurate. Also the fact that the holidays are approaching and they are planning one more video to send with demands lets me know that my “calendar” is close to being spot on.
I’m a war correspondent covering the fighting in Afghanistan, I was freelancing and hoping to put together an on the ground perspective that would show both sides of this conflict with an objective viewpoint of each: the U.S. Soldiers and the local rebel forces as well. It seems very ironic now that I have been beaten, starved and treated the way I have for so long that I held to the belief that this was something that reporting could solve or make people back home understand.
The influences and stimuli that the locals are bombarded with since birth has left very little, if any chance that they will not grow to at the very least dislike the western world. And more than a few hate us intensely, and if you were raised here and knew nothing else I cannot logically argue that it would be any different. I have been working on this journal as I am not hopeful that any ransom demand will be met. If it is found please get this to my friend and editor Mr. Bob Schulie of Norfolk, Virginia. Sounds like they are getting ready to make the video by the noise outside. I will write more later.
The video shoot was no different than the others. Many demands, some threats and a few other miscellaneous statements about how this is all Americas doing. It ate up the rest of the day and now I’m pretty tired and hungry, I am so hungry. Even with the three paltry meals a day I was worried about malnutrition, scurvy and other things. With the recent ration cut I don’t know how long I’ll be able to avoid serious illness. I will try to write more later.
Haven’t been able to write for three days now since last time. Lots of interruptions for picture taking and bouts of interrogation and being screamed at. The leader is growing frustrated and angrier. I do not know how much longer I have. . . . also getting weaker and I am very tired all of the time.
Five days after my last entry I was hauled out of my cell and quickly blindfolded and tied to a chair. More torture was the first thought that crossed my mind. But after a short questioning session (which is always routine) I was merely slapped and then left in the dark. A few hours later I awoke to the sound of voices, one obviously being the leader and one I do not know. . . .they are not speaking English so I cannot understand the first part but as they get closer they switch to my language as I strain to overhear what they are saying, while I try to look unconscious or asleep at the same time. “ I want you to take him out past the edge of town, and finish this.” I hear the leader say. The stranger replies “ This is what we have been planning for, it will be a great day for our cause.” “ You must make sure to take many pictures to bring me, I have to send them out by midnight so the infidels will see what has happened since they have chosen not to meet our demands.” The leader barks at the new man. “ You will see, I will do well. I will not fail.” He replies.
Darkness in the truck, bouncing around like a beer can choking on the hot dust I think we will never be stopped and begin to worry that not only will I die today but I may very well die in my own feces which is an unnerving thought. Then after what seems like forever we come to a stop. I hear the tailgate open and I feel the hands of at least two men pulling me out and standing me on my feet. However I have been hungry so long, and in the truck without water that my legs cannot hold me and I fall to my knees. A large dirty hand grabs the back of my head and snaps it up as the other rips off my blindfold. There are bright lights in my eyes and I cannot see. From somewhere at the end of a long tunnel I hear a loud, confident voice that says “ It’s going to be alright son. . . .it’s ok we’re a Navy Seal hostage extaction team and we’re here to take you home. I know your weak and the lights hurt your eyes, but I need to get you in this chopper ASAP. I don’t know how much more of a window we have. I need you to stand and try and walk and we’ll help you . . . let’s go home.” As I stand wobbling on my feet to embrace the man that belongs to the voice and I begin to sob quietly I am trying as hard as I can to say thank you, but I am. . . . speechless.
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