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

Homecoming 437ing into the driveway of my house. One thing the hostage experiencetaught me is the pleasure of the hammock. I have one alongside thepool where I can see the citrus trees in my backyard. Fruit was a raretreat while in captivity, and so being surrounded by orange, grapefruit,lime, lemon, and mango trees, and lying in a hammock perfumed bythose scents, is just about every bit of the peace I craved when in thehands of the FARC. For a guy who spent most of his adult life in thepursuit of adventure and a way to get a leg up financially, I’m enjoyinghaving both legs up in my hammock, appreciating the time I have beforeI immerse myself in household projects.I haven’t flown since I’ve been back, and though that was one ofmy life’s passions, I know that rushing around in a headlong dash toachieve what someone else might define as success is not for me. Inmy mind, I’ve already won whatever game I was playing, and there isno greater demonstration of that than exercising my ability to choosewhether to swing or lie still, answer the phone or let it go to voice mail.Nothing is too important to let it interfere with the comfortable bubbleI’ve found in my private tropical paradise.KEITH“Keith, welcome home and welcome to Fort Sam Houston.”From the first words that Major General Keith Huber spoke, I knewthat we were being reintroduced to gallantry and service. His firmhandshake and intense blue eyes underscored the fact that the brutalitythat had marked our lives for so long had finally come to an end.General Huber set the tone for everyone else at Fort Sam Houston. Thefolks there at the BAMC exceeded our expectations in every way, andso much of this had to do with the compassionate command of MajorGeneral Keith Huber. From the moment we set foot on that base to theday we left it, General Huber was there—whether it was offering ushis advice and wise counsel or driving us from one location to another.