An Evil Cradling: The Five-Year Ordeal of a Hostage
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
This brilliantly written account by a former Middle East hostage was a #1 bestseller in Britain and served as the inspiration for the acclaimed Broadway hit Someone Who'll Watch Over Me. "Conveys the surrealism of the ordeal, the loss of control and melting of identity that come with realizing you are a pawn in someone else's game."--Time.
sit awaiting their return. I watched how they worked ” together. And how, if I had crushed one in the night by accident, the others would gather around and if there was life in it still, a comrade would lift this wounded companion and carry it across what for these tiny creatures must have seemed like miles, crawl up the vertical wall and search out an escape point through which they could take this maimed insect to be amongst its own. This incident became a symbol for me in this blank room with
which I have not recorded for to record them all is beyond me now. It would be difficult to build a coherent framework for them that would reveal something of what lay behind them. For example, I tried to find sleep one afternoon, or the comfort of a daydream. But it would not come. I felt something building up inside me. What it was I could not understand, nor from where it came. With it I felt myself passing through every excruciating moment of birth. An anguished passage along a dark tunnel,
anti-biotics and promised to return in some days with ear drops. It was ten days before they arrived. However the penicillin and the companionship of near , faces worked their own magic. The next days and weeks were spent signalling to the Americans. It was a long and difficult process, spelling out words letter by letter, but we persevered. The need to communicate was greater than the risk involved. After a few days of this laborious activity I suggested to John it would be less complicated and
was necessary, we all agreed, for us to re-establish our mail service. For these men now in solitary confinement such communication was essential. As before, we scratched out notes or even jokes on pieces of silver cigarette paper with a match for a pen. They were delivered in the old way and collected the next day. Tom, because of his past experience with the guards, felt unable to collect any messages that were left for him. Consequently someone had to pick up the message, bring it back to
always the problem of clothes. We knew the guards kept the changes of clothes in their room. Would there be enough for all of us? And how would we go, in twos or threes? Would we take guns? Could we kill anyone if it was necessary? In part these discussions were like playing adventure games and in part they were explorations of a very real moral question. Two days after his first escape attempt Frank again caused havoc. When the guards came to take him to the toilet for his daily wash, Frank