A quick recovery

Day 18

Yesterday I was at the precipice. I believe I nearly died. Recently, the guards placed an enticing object on the floor of my cell. It appears to be an exercise mat of some kind, fashioned in the likeness of a red ladybug, with poles intersecting in the middle to hold more of these toys I despise. Out of sheer spite for my captors, I consumed the ladybug's antennae. I immediately regretted that decision. I believe the cloth from which it was constructed became lodged in my digestive system. I was wracked with stomach cramps and vomiting for most of the evening, finally passing the obstruction at 0500 hours today. I appear to be unharmed, for the most part, in the aftermath of the incident. My guards removed the mat when my sickness began. They also found and repossessed the socks I found during my ventures in the camp, which I then concealed in my cell. Luckily, I had plenty of time to destroy said socks before the guards detected something was amiss. They were not pleased about the destroyed socks. Not pleased one bit.

The female guard watched me closely throughout the night and into the morning. I believe she was preparing to transport me to a medical facility, until she found me recovered at 0600 hours. Thank WAHK I was able to survive on my own, I do not desire to become a lab rat for these heathens. She returned this afternoon with renovations for my cell. I have been given a new privy. It is much larger than the former construct, and will prevent my previous misuse of the facilities. No matter, I will find another means of degradation. She also added an H3 Hummer to my cell. Much to my dismay, it is not functional, merely a vehicle shell transformed into some sort of structure for sleeping. Sheer mockery. Their capacity for torturing my psyche is astounding.

The guard also attempted attaching a new canteen to my cell. It was an unsuccessful venture, but highly entertaining to watch her struggle with the unrelenting piece of plastic. I laugh at their feeble human attempts. Note: strength and fortitude in human guards severely lacking.

--FF

The end?

Day 17

1800 hours ...  crippling nausea ... projectile vomiting ... shouldn't have ... eaten ... ladybug ... to spite ... guards ...

A strange occurrence

Day 7

I was released from my cell today. The guards allowed me two hours of yard time within the building, which is the location of my cell and their sleeping quarters. No understanding for my temporary release, unless it was meant to save me from the brink of insanity. I have seen no torture devices moved through the bunker yet, but solitary confinement is a torture in and of itself. I am forced to eat to remain occupied, and have gained weight as a result. I believe they intend to fatten me up so any escape would be increasingly more difficult. Well ... well done, sirs. Well done.

The guards watched me closely, and as such I was unable to pick the lock. Changing tactics, I attacked them both, first hitting them high on the hands to disarm them, and then low at the feet to impede their balance. The female guard seemed to understand my motives and vaulted herself onto the bunk, leaving me flying through mid-air on a collision course with the far wall. Cunning, as I was then unable to reach her from the floor to enact my vengeance. Launching myself against the bunk in an attempt to gain access to it proved useless. It is imperative that I remain calm, as I cannot allow the guards to gain information about myself or my mission. Must remember not to humiliate myself with fits of outrage anymore.

They have given me toys, playthings, as if I were a dog. Insulting to say the least. Nevertheless, I confiscated one that appeared to be a mouse and deposited it in my cell when the guards left the room momentarily. I feel compelled to roll about the room with it, but I remain strong-willed. I will dissect said object and study its contents. There might be something within to aid in my escape.

I ate a rather large amount of rations for lunch and am feeling overwhelmed with exhaustion. I fear the day they poison or otherwise tamper with my food, as I am certain I will eat it anyway.

Making me eat myself to death

Day 4 — My captors are keeping me occupied. They continue to fill my provisions on a constant basis. With so much food to consume, I have little time for anything but eating and using the privy, and am exhausted into near unconsciousness from these activities. I am highly suspicious of the reasons for this abundance of nourishment. I will continue to consume as fast as possible to see if this behavior changes. 

I have refused to use the facilities in my cell, and instead dispose of my waste in all areas near, but not ever inside, the privy. Currently monitoring my guards for annoyance threshold. They seem aggravatingly patient. 

Overturned my rations canister. Still no noticeable change in captors' behavior. Mystified as to what drives them, as they seem pleasant and, I daresay, slightly affectionate. I fear the worst from these mind games.      

New camp

I've been relocated to a new POW camp. All entries henceforth will document the proceedings at this new location.


Day 1 - Camp Mooreclan is in better condition than my previous quarters. I've been confined to solitary, although my surroundings much improved, cleaner, and rations are strangely ample. I have not detected any signs of my captors tampering with rations, although will remain vigilant for such events to transpire.


It would seem the humans have greatly underestimated my military training. I am now under the surveying eye of two pudgy Americans, who seem rather green in their methods of managing a POW camp. A great change from the armed guards in 24-hour lockdown, to be sure. I am placated at the moment knowing this will work to my advantage. Simply outrunning them might prove successful, and yet I remain vigilant for obstacles yet unforeseen. I will closely monitor my captors. Patience is the road to victory.

I find myself weary after today's travel. My captors forced me to bathe, insisting I reeked of "puppy pound." They seem rather despondent about the condition of my previous quarters. I know not why they would be concerned, as we are sworn enemies. I am suspicious of deception: in place of combat-hardened bodies, it is possible they have mastered the art of pschological warfare. I must remain alert for assaults of a mental capacity. For now, I must rest and prepare myself. I will make annotations as privacy allows. They must not become privy to these logs. Should I survive, they will be vital to WAHK and my brothers in arms.

--FF