Another week of monotonous hell gone by; no good news from the front. I remember when we first arrived here and my comrades, huddled together to shield their lips from our guards, talked--nay, whispered--of the possibility of rescue in seven weeks. Four weeks have gone by, and the possibility of salvation seems beyond comprehension. To make matters worse (something I thought impossible), we were informed today that we will be shipped back out to the FOB this week. I told myself when we left the FOB's wretched walls last time that I would never return alive. But it seems I have no choice. I'm not sure how much more of this place I will be able to handle before attempting escape, becoming a martyr amongst my fellow prisoners, or going insane. A part of me thinks I am already well along the road towards the latter. Time is short, and I must prepare for this arduous, awful journey. This time, though, I will bring a camera to document the atrocities of the FOB. Hopefully Allah will grant me a safe return so that you may vicariously experience my pain, though you will never truly know it.
Long Live the Free Officer Corps!
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