I slogged through swamp covered with mosquito bites, with the blood of one of my close companions on my hands. I held him as he died, killed by a mine set to keep people like us from escaping.
I had to escape, not just for myself, but for the people who depended on me. Others would die if I did not get the information I carried in my mind to those I worked with in the United States.
Dogs barked; the G-2 were close. I had to reach the water in time. I remember the blood on my hands, the sweat, the stink of the swamp, the mosquitoes — but most of all I remember the desperation. My heart beat in my throat as the adrenaline pushed my exhausted body to the limit. But I wasn’t done yet. Once I reached the water I had to swim ten miles to Guantanamo. Somehow, I made it. Many of my friends did not. I escaped that day, and that would be the first of many times I escaped Castro’s forces trying to kill me.
The full story of Dr. D’Marmol’s escape is found in The Zipper.