I WANTED TO FLY TO AFGHANISTAN a few years ago. My country said, "Hey, that's bad. We advise you not to do it." I thought to myself, "I'm a free man. I'll take my chances." My wife said, "Honey, our second child will be born in a few days. You shouldn't leave now." But I did. No woman had me on a ball and chain. I was Timothy J. Fittle, commander-in-chief of my own life.Now my name is Fishan, my captor's poor attempt at pronouncing my American name. I am tied to a stake in the ground.
My captors received a letter from my wife a few months ago. She says that my kids like their new dad better. He takes them to Colonial Williamsburg every year. I guess they're free to make their own decisions.
My cell is larger than many of the other Americans' here.
My captor let me go outside and walk around for a while. I felt free as a bird. So free that I tried to run away.
My captor said the escape attempt gave him license to beat me.
