Journalist's hope for release dims after U.S. drone attack

By David Rohde - New York Times News Service

Two deafening explosions shook the walls of the compound where the Taliban held us hostage. My guards and I dived to the floor as chunks of dirt hurtled through the window.

"Dawood?" one guard shouted, saying my name in Arabic. "Dawood?"

"I'm OK," I replied in Pashto. "I'm OK."

Somewhere outside, a woman wailed. I wondered if Tahir Luddin and Asad Mangal, the two Afghans who had been kidnapped with me, were alive. A guard grabbed his rifle and ordered me to follow him outside.

"Go!" he shouted. "Go!"

Our nightmare had come to pass. Powerful missiles fired by an American drone had obliterated their target a few hundred yards from our house in a remote village in Pakistan's tribal areas.

Dozens of people were probably dead. Militants would call for our heads in revenge.

It was March 25, and for months the drones had been a terrifying presence. Remotely piloted airplanes, they could easily be heard as they circled overhead for hours. To the naked eye, they were small dots in the sky. But their missiles had a range of several miles. We knew we could be immolated without warning.

Fearing a direct attack on our house, they ordered me to cover my face with a scarf and follow them outside the compound.

I lay in the back of a station wagon between rows of trees and silently recited the Lord's Prayer. For months, I had promised myself that if they taped our execution I would remain calm for my family and declare our innocence until the end.

After about 15 minutes, the guards led me back to the house. The missiles had struck two cars, killing a total of seven Arab militants and local Taliban fighters. I felt a small measure of relief that no civilians had been killed. But I knew we were still in grave danger.

Two weeks earlier our captors had moved us from Miram Shah, the capital of the North Waziristan tribal agency, to a remote town in South Waziristan. I had seen on a receipt from a local shop that we were in Makeen, a stronghold of the leader of the Pakistani Taliban, Baitullah Mehsud.

The house was the crudest we had inhabited in Pakistan. Perched on a hilltop, it had no running water, fleas and a courtyard littered with trash.

Tahir struggled, telling me at times that he could no longer remember the faces of his seven children. "This is not life," he said. "I want to die."

In late April, a surprise visit by Abu Tayyeb, the Taliban commander who kidnapped us, raised our hopes that our freedom was being negotiated.

"Dawood," he asked, "what would you say if I told you that you could start your journey back to New York tomorrow?"

"That would make me incredibly happy," I said.

He told me to get a notebook and pen and ordered everyone to leave the room except for his deputy commander, Tahir and me.

I quickly realized that Abu Tayyeb had not shown up to complete a deal. His visit was to make another video, another effort to extort money from my family. Five months into our captivity, he had refused to lower his demands below a $5 million ransom as well as an exchange of prisoners.

I hated the thought of my wife, Kristen, and my family seeing such a video, but Tahir was the father of seven children, and Asad the father of two. I agreed to make it.

In early June, Abu Tayyeb reappeared and announced that the American government was offering to trade the seven remaining Afghan prisoners at Guantánamo Bay, Cuba, for us. I told him that was ridiculous.

If I made one more video, he said, we would be released. I refused.

"This is all about you," I said. "You are demanding millions of dollars so you can make yourself look good to the other commanders. You are the problem."

He declared that he was doing everything "for the jihad." Visibly angry, he again told me to make the video and then left the room.

I knew it was reckless, but standing up to him felt enormously liberating.

Later, sensing that Abu Tayyeb and his men were about to beat me, Tahir and Asad told me to make the video. I finally relented.

At the end of the video, I included a message I had wanted to relay since the day we were kidnapped.

"However this ends, Kristen and all my family and friends should live in peace with yourselves," I said. "I know you have all done absolutely everything you can to help us."