Out of Captivity : Surviving 1,967 Days in the Colombian Jungle

Dead 291I imagined him on that road and wondered what he thought about themoment the first round pierced his body or as he lay in the mud withhis life seeping out of him. I doubted he felt any remorse.The silence lingered among the three of us.“Can you believe it?” I asked, almost thinking out loud.Tom and Keith knew what I was talking about because they bothsaid, “No. But that’s just how it is.”Though we’d heard of other FARC guerrillas who had died or disappearedduring our time in captivity, this was the first time that guardswe’d come to know well had been killed. We were all a bit surprisedthat we’d taken such satisfaction in Rogelio’s death. It disturbed me. Ifound myself questioning whether it was the captivity that had broughtout this side of me, or if I was simply changed now and this eventdemonstrated the new me. Perhaps some very small part of my souldied along with Rogelio. Perhaps his treatment of us had afflicted mein such a way that I’d lost some of my humanity. Perhaps I had to addmy conscience to our casualty list.I didn’t dwell on these thoughts for very long. The FARC did nothingto commemorate their fallen comrades. Vanessa and Tatiana veryquickly regrouped and moved on. The other guerrillas descended onRogelio and Mono’s belongings and took whatever they wanted, pickingthrough piece by piece until every item was taken.KEITHA week after we heard about Rogelio and Mono’s deaths, we were onthe march again. Instead of it being a real ordeal or getting lost becauseof Milton’s cluelessness, we actually caught a bit of good luck. Whetherit was because Milton had lost a couple of guys or somebody higher upin the group figured that the shithead needed a break, we were introducedto a new player. Ernesto joined our bunch, and the scuttlebuttwas that he was pretty close to the boss of the whole Front.Compared to a lot of the guerrillas, Ernesto, at about five feet ten,