Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Private Benson

Private Keith Benson, home on leave from the War against terror, is missing!


Keith has tried his best to fight them off, but he was outnumbered, 4-1.  When they finally had him pinned down, the ductaped his wrists, feet, eyes and mouth.  They grabbed his up by his arms, and pounded into his gut as the sweat sprayed.  Again and again a punch, a thud, and a moan until finally the 22 year old collapsed.

The dragged him to the Jeep, threw him in the back, and took off.

They had kidnapped Private Benson!


I awoke slowly.  My eyes focused.  Sunlight blinded me.  My head was pulled back.  All I could do was look up.

I was hanging.

I was strung up.

Then I felt the pain.

My vision got clearer.

I was hanging by my wrists.

My wrists were bleeding and blood was flowing down my arms.

My wrists were handcuffed.

A rope from the hinge hung me from the rafters.

My elbows were in front of my head.  They had been tied together with a coarse rope, above and below the joint and tightened between. I figured I was like this for a while, for the rope was saturated with caked blood from my wrists.

I was stripped to my shorts.  They were soaked.  I must have pissed in my pants while strung up.

I could feel that my legs and feet were tied up like my elbows.

I was still gagged by the tape that went between my teeth and around my mouth and head a dozen or so times.

Someone was coming behind me.

I braced for another beating.

I broke out in a cold sweat.  I could see the hairs on my arms popping up.

I head the tape, and my eyes were soon blinded again.

I felt so vulnerable, so helpless, wondering what they were planning to do to me.

I could hear them taking photos.  They lowered my body until me feet were on the floor.  It was a relief,  I had some hope that maybe this would soon be over but no.  They tied between my ankles a rope, bent my legs back and tied it around the handcuffs on my wrists.  I was swing in the air as I was hoisted up again, now hogtied, my body contorted.

They were speaking.

I could not understand the language.

All I knew was that I was in deep shit.

They continued taking pictures.

The only word I understood was Rambo.

I shivered.  I remember the scene from the movie.  He was strung up, special ops, a pow, and they tortured him.....

I felt a knife on my chest.

I was going to be cut up.

I bit down on the tape, for I swore to myself I would not scream....

When I heard an explosion......

And screams.

Bright light flooded in the small area under the tape over my eyes.

I knew the sound.

A flash grenade.

Shots.  Multiple shots.

Then silence.

I was being lowered.

The tape was pulled off my face, my elbows cut free, the handcuffs cut from my wrists.

It was special forces......

They carried me outside and put me in a chopper.  Para medics were all over me.

I whispered, "Who were they?"

I found out I had the distinction to be the first one taken prisoner by an ICIS terrorist cell in the United States.

I felt my neck.  The medic smiled.  "They were about to cut your head off!"

I closed me eyes as we took off, just thinking.........

Sunday, May 17, 2015

Bad Memories

They forced my arms up behind my back until my hands were near my neck, and my forearms toughing.  They tied my thumbs together and then to mu neck.  Roping my elbows and forearms together, they roped around my triceps and yanked my upper arms only an inch or so apart before binding them.

Contorted.  Racked in Pain. I could not move my arms at all!

My tied legs and ankles pulled back.  Someone sitting on my shins, crushing my arms, while another tied my crossed ankles to my neck.

Oh the madness of not being able to stop the cramps in my thighs, for if I moved my legs, I would choke.

That metal bar the forced under my knees, and then hoisting my up, the ropes tightening on my neck.  In my panic having my shirt ripped open baring my chest and being plummeted by first in my chest and gut   -  they enjoyed beating me.  I still hear their laughter in my ears.

I hear the creek of the metal door closing, the clicking of the lock.
I hear the metal of the bunks creek as our bodies convulsed for the roping.
I see total darkness.
I hear gagging sounds from me, and a choir of deep groans coming from my tortured friends.
But worst of all the smell, the smell of sweat and blood soaked into the mattresses from others who had been here before us.

Saturday, May 9, 2015

"Bind and Gag them!"

Luke shrieked when his shoulders tore from their sockets.  He had turned the ropes between his upper arms until they dislocated. A caustic pain ran down his neck and back.  His rib cage expanded. He starved for breath.  He no longer had feeling as his elbows, forearms and wrists were tied.

Again Luke shrieked.  He was turned onto his back.  He was trembling, shivering as his cold sweat drenched him.  He bound Luke's ankles and knees. He grabbed a rag to gag him, but Luke resisted.  He kicked the bound man in his balls and when he screamed again, he shoved the gag into his mouth.  Forcing the thick rope between his teeth, he tied the gag in place.  Then he went to Jake.

"Finished binding me, he he dragged us together, on our sides, arms touching.  As they tied our arms together, the pain magnified from my shoulders.  We were manhandled as they tied one of our biceps together, our elbows and our wrists.  Then the turned us around.  My muffled screams filled the room as out other upper arms were tied together.  The finished by tying our ankles and knees together.

There we were, back-to-back, on our sides, tied together by our arms and legs.

They kicked us in our heads and guys until we were knocked out, senseless.

When we finally came to, we were along, left to our fates.

Thursday, May 7, 2015


The Nunez Brothers.

To chairs.


With good strong rope.

Tight.  Very tight.


Around their heads covering their eyes.

Around their heads covering their gagged mouths.

Giovanni. the elder at 22 motionless. Sweating.

Neck bound to the upper rung.

Wrists, crossed, tied behind the chair, bound to the lower rung.

Biceps lashed to the sides.

Chest and gut tied to the back.

Ankles and legs roped to the front legs.

Thighs roped to the seat.

Rag in his mouth tightly covered with tape choking him.

Rafael, 17, the youngest.


Jerking his body and flexing his arms.

Drenched with sweat.

Used to being tied up by his older brothers.

Always got out.

Has to get out.

Ignoring the pain, the burn.

Finally broken.



Dante, 19, made an example of.


Slapped in the face.

Bloody nose.

Hair pulled back.

Tape pulled of eyes.



Ropes on upper arms tightened.

Squinting at the flash.

Blindfolded again.

The Nunez Boys.





Breathing heavy.

Wrists, arms and neck raw.