The splitting headache was all Kaare could concentrate on as he woke up. The cold from the bare concrete floor made his body shiver, but he did not notice. With half-closed eyes, he squinted at the naked bulb hanging from the ceiling. Was it swaying gently? Or was he so exhausted that he was delirious? The question remained unanswered because, by then, the rest of his body decided to enter the scrum, bringing with it unimaginable pain. His mind was not yet in gear, but he pressed information through the cerebral cortex, hoping some brain cells were ready to receive input. He registered that he was naked. Cautiously, Kaare turned onto his back and in the dim glow of the bulb, he saw that his testicles were discoloured and swollen. Images of the bald giant administering whiplashes to his genitals made his stomach contort, instinctively. He thought that one more beating like that would leave him a goner, but the thought was brutally interrupted by a metallic clank of a key in the lock. Immediately, the heavy iron door swung open, and a barrage of light from the hallway flooded the room. Kaare squinted his eyes and could just make out a metal tray being placed on the floor.238
‘Don’t overeat. With no exercise, one gets fat easily,’ said the guard in broken English and burst out jeering.
Before Kaare had time to process the words, the guard threw a bucket of freezing cold water over him.
‘And get all that washed off,’ the guard continued in his inept English as the metal door once again closed behind him.
The icy water left Kaare gasping for breath, and his teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. This could bloody well kill me. My body temperature is already low from having been on this damn floor, he thought, and he got himself up, squatting in a feat of strength. From the winter training in Sweden with the Jaeger Corps, he knew how quickly the body’s temperature could fall to a fatal level. And the fact that he had fallen asleep on the cold floor was a sure sign that he was on a downhill trajectory. People who die from hypothermia often fall asleep, regardless of the freezing temperature. He vividly remembered the instructor’s words. Every joint and every muscle was now jolting pain through him, and he had to lean against the wall. He tried to regain control over his trembling body while drawing in a few deep breaths. The tight plastic strips on his wrists rendered his hands completely numb, but he managed to keep his balance. After what felt like an eternity, he fought to bring his body to an upright position and was momentarily overcome by dizziness as blood rushed from his head and down into his leg muscles. The painful, pricking sensations as the blood returned feeling to his deadened legs and feet was strangely life-affirming. Suddenly, he remembered a talk many years ago at combat survival in England. An old bloke who had been a prisoner during the Korean War had spoken about his experiences surviving physically and mentally in captivity. Remember to do regular exercises and 239create a calendar in your mind. Once you lose track of time, you’ll lose hope.
Back then, Kaare and the others had loved the talk; not because of the guy, he was just an old nitwit, but because it had been a nice break from the physical curriculum. Kaare realised now that he should have been less arrogant and instead listened carefully to these treasures. The old boy had survived his time in captivity. An ordeal that he had only just begun. And with no guarantee of succeeding.
After a few squat exercises, Kaare shuffled around the room’s edges and finally squatted beside the metal tray. The sight was not encouraging. It was an indeterminate soup-like substance. And, of course, a piece of the dried-out, sour bread he had been treated to on the journey. The inedible food no longer gave him convulsions that had led to him vomiting. Kaare wanted to swallow, but his throat felt like flypaper. He balanced the bowl to his lips with his numb hands and resolutely emptied it in three greedy gulps. If it stays down, it’ll give me the energy to fight on. He did not bother to wipe away the grey-green substance that trickled down his jaw. Instead, he used the roughened edge of the bowl to scratch a mark on the wall for each day he had been in captivity. Was it ten days? He had to acknowledge that the days had been a haze. But that had to stop now. He resolved that from this point forward, he would do what he could to come out of this alive. From now on, physical and mental exercise would be a daily routine. I will survive so that I can talk about it to all that want to listen, Kaare thought and felt a pinch of pain in his stomach as the grey-green liquid was rejected by his belly. He turned his head away from the self-made calendar as a stream of puke and bile acid erupted from his mouth. His 240vision started to blacken, and he had to sit down again. He was totally gutted and suddenly lost all belief in ever escaping captivity. I’m not strong enough to withstand this much longer. For fuck’s sake, send in the boys to rescue me… soon! The nausea swelled up again, and he turned his head to let the final remains of stomach content splash on the floor. Kaare closed his eyes and reached deep for the strength to carry on, and slowly the will to survive returned. When he finally opened his eyes, he scratched the last of his calendar on the wall. Each day marked was a joy and a hope. A joy of having made it alive through one more day and hope of this nightmare ending soon. There was no reason to be optimistic, but that did not matter.