HEAT TRAINING: Released from captivity (2) - Captivity

Wiebke Köhler is a top management consultant who experiences being kidnapped during a training session at the H.E.A.T. Akademie in Mosbach, Baden-Württemberg – HERE is the first part of the article. HEAT stands for Hostile Environment Awareness Training. The name lives up to its promise. Here is the second part of her experience and account:

Captured and Kidnapped

Without a word, the terrorist flips me onto my back. He places my hands one over the other – and I can already feel the cable tie binding my hands. Now I'm lying defenseless on my back in the middle of the street. I hear gunshots in the distance, it's incredibly loud. Because of that, I can't hear the different kidnappers, I just notice that they keep walking past me. But I have no idea how many there are, my heart rate is so high as if I were sprinting.

Then I hear barking of dogs. Sounds like a German Shepherd. Sounds quite close. Apparently, one of the kidnappers is standing right next to me. His dog is barking directly into my ear. This makes me involuntarily flinch. "If this were real, he would definitely snap," I think. I like dogs – but the "what if" triggers the imagination when you're lying defenseless on the ground. It's an uncomfortable feeling. You don't want that.

The kidnapper and his dog move away. Instead, someone is now shouting in Arabic. It remains hectic. Then someone kicks my foot. Through the sandbag, I can only see shadows. And I don't hear anything from the others. But I'm also so preoccupied with my own situation that I don't think too much about the others in the group.

My heart is pounding, my breathing is too fast. It's hot, and under the sack, I can barely breathe. Plus, my heart is pumping wildly. What did the psychologist say yesterday about how to lower your heart rate? Breathe calmly. Inhale for 3 seconds, hold for 3 seconds, exhale for 3 seconds. I try this for a minute. It doesn't really help. I'm just too excited and haven't trained this breathing technique long enough in advance.

As fast as my heart is beating, I can't help but have a certain amount of professional admiration: The whole kidnapping seems highly professional to me. We had discussed this the day before. Namely, the question of whether the hostage-takers are amateurs or professionals, whether it is planned or happens by chance. I think: "That was planned. These are professionals." Although I don't perceive the kidnapper(s) as highly aggressive, they are willing to show at any time who is in charge. Very assertive and not tolerating any dissent. In real life, real kidnappers would surely not hesitate to use violence.

The Transport

Then I hear cars pulling up. Car doors slamming shut. Suddenly, someone is standing in front of me again, pulling on my hands. Apparently, I am supposed to stand up. It's not easy when you can't see anything and don't have your hands to support yourself. Another kidnapper is behind me and grabs under my armpits. I am hoisted up, like a sack of rice – at least that's how it feels.

One of the kidnappers already grabs my left arm and pushes it far back. His other hand grabs my neck and pushes me into a bent position forward. I can't move, he holds me tightly.

I'm pushed forward. I walk hesitantly, absolutely can't see anything. He moves fast and drags me relentlessly.

I hear a car door opening. Just like that, I'm pushed into the car, not realizing where – in the front, back, or even in the trunk. I'm just struggling to make sure my head doesn't hit anything, that I can breathe, and that my feet get in too. The door slams shut.

In the split second it takes for the driver's door to open, I realize: I'm lying on the back seat. Luckily, the sandbag has shifted up a bit, so I can finally breathe better. I also catch a glimpse outside. I now know that I'm being transported in a car. But all I see are treetops rushing past me. Where we're going is not visible.

I can't tell if there's only the driver in the car or anyone else. I'm also worried that I might make too many movements if I twist my head to see better. So I stay still and am relieved that I can breathe better again. It's the small joys that make a situation like this a bit better.

After a short drive, the car stops. The driver jumps out, opens the back door – and suddenly, someone starts pulling my legs. Quite forcefully. As soon as I stand up, my left arm is held firmly again, a strong hand moves to my neck. I'm pushed forward and forced to walk. Up the stairs, then straight ahead. It stops. My feeling tells me I'm still outdoors. My arms are lifted and leaned against a wall above my head, my feet are placed far away from the wall so that too much of my bodyweight rests on my raised hands and outstretched arms. Quite uncomfortable, as I quickly realize. Uncomfortable and fully intentional by my kidnappers. This is no club vacation!

I stand like this for at least ten minutes until my upper arms start to tremble. "I won't be able to hold this position for much longer," I think. I let my arms sink a little. Immediately, they are forcefully raised again. "Uh-oh," I think, "I didn't even notice someone was standing behind me." A pretty disturbing thought.

Then suddenly someone takes my arms down and does something with the cable ties. I feel like they're sitting better now, not as tight. Good! Afterwards, the trainers explain that it was the paramedic who checked everyone's cable tie positions.

And just like that, someone comes again to lead me away with familiar grip. I can't see where. And no one says a word, which is already unsettling. I am led into something that sounds metallic. Could be a container. There I am placed against the wall and asked to sit on the floor. I only think: "I hope they don't close the container door!"

Captivity

I don't know how many minutes have passed since the attack. It feels like an eternity since I last said something. I am very hot, my pulse is still too fast, everything is exhausting. And then the stupid hair in my face. Breathing is difficult. I try to calm myself down.

Someone is constantly patrolling in front of me. There are definitely several kidnappers, who also occasionally kick my feet so I don't get any ideas. As if that were my biggest concern! At least I have a somewhat relaxed sitting position against the wall with my legs up.

Then I hear a cough. Up until now, I thought I was sitting here all alone. Now I realize that there must be other hostages, my other colleagues. "Did that come from my team members?" I wonder. Relief floods over me. I am not alone, the others are also there. But since we are not allowed to speak, there is no way to communicate. "Clever," I think, "that someone is coughing. At least I know now."

Through the sandbag, I only see contours, but I keep my gaze towards the opening of the container to at least estimate if someone is coming. But suddenly someone comes from the left and sniffs at me again. Afterwards, I find out that the "kidnappers" did the same to the men in the group. This belongs to the tactics of the dark side of psychology, calculated power play, a power move that still has its intimidating effect even if one suspects or knows that kidnappers play such power games. Paul Watzlawick, known to many from "The Situation is Hopeless but not Serious," called this power game "One up - one down". By humiliating another, one automatically places oneself above him and thus kills two birds with one stone.

Overall, I am mentally calmer than one would expect under the circumstances. A quiet satisfaction rises within me. I am quite stress-resistant! The sniffing doesn't bother me much; Watzlawick can go to hell. Even the deep, penetrating hum tone that the kidnappers turned up on the speakers and which drove some of my colleagues mad, as I later learn, actually calms me. Then I hear that kidnappers are not only walking back and forth in front of me - apparently someone is also on the roof of the container and walking back and forth up there. None of it bothers me. I block it out, keeping only the entrance with its light and shadow plays in view.

I focus on controlling my breathing. In my mind, I try the breathing exercise again. I still can't get it quite right on the second try. So, I start playing chess in my mind, my mental coping strategy. I do this every night anyway, so I remember a few setups and play through some moves mentally.

I have no idea how long I sit there. Suddenly I hear cars arriving. And it all starts again.

David vs. Goliath

Someone grabs my arms and pulls me up. In the already familiar grip, I am pushed on relentlessly and too fast for me, probably towards the car. Again, I am thrown onto the back seat. And once again, the car ride is a relief, because I can see a little and breathe better. Breathing through the sandbag - the favorite hostage hobby.

Upon arrival, the same procedure as before. My personal kidnapper pushes me out of the car and forward. Where to, no idea. I am completely disoriented now.

Eventually, he stops. I realize: it is stuffy and hot here. I am placed with my face against a wall that feels like concrete. Someone releases the cable tie and raises my hands again, placing them above my head against the wall. My legs are pushed apart from behind and back, so that I stand at a sharp angle to the wall. Exhausting, even after a short time! Afterwards, in the video, during the debrief, I see: this room is full of terrorists. Now the mental game really kicks in.

I try to follow the rules of the kidnappers. Not so much to please them according to the Stockholm syndrome, but to prove to them that they can't bring me down quickly. The psychologist later explains to me that maybe it would have been good not to hold out for so long. This would have possibly (at least in a real situation) resulted in a punishment, but: kidnappers want control over their hostages and steal their strength. So if I pretend I can't go on when I still have strength, I could save a little energy. I didn't know that in that basement. Instead, I get a little stubborn and think, "Screw you all. I will now strictly follow your stupid rules because I will not surrender to you, because I will not show any weakness to you." Nevertheless, I can't resist a little game.

From time to time, I let my arms sink slightly, which always prompts the kidnappers to react in the same way: one rushes over and immediately pushes my arms back up. This goes on for a while. It is unbearably hot. It is brutally exhausting to stand in this position. And I really struggle to breathe under this stupid sack. That's what I fight with the most.

Not Alone

To calm myself down, I mentally sing a funny song about an English paratrooper, in all the verses I know. I didn't even know I still knew them all, I had sung the song for the last time 20 years ago. This makes me smile in spirit and calms me down.

Now I notice that the other hostages are also there. I hear someone next to me on both the right and left.

And then, suddenly, physical contact is successful. The kidnappers occasionally changed the body position. So at one point, I stood with my back to the wall. In this position, I had to hold my hands flat against the wall with the palm of my hand on the left and right sides, my back to the wall, my feet way forward. And there it happened - I feel other fingers to my left. I reach for them and squeeze briefly. Squeeze back briefly. Great, I think, we are together!

It is dead silent. I am still mentally fine. It is just starting to become physically exhausting for me.

Someone comes and starts searching me. I am thoroughly patted down. The body check! And all in dead silence. My watch disappears, my key from the pocket, my upper body, lower body, everything is touched. "Just like at the airport, all as usual," I think. It doesn't stress me at all. Later, I find out that a female kidnapper did the body check on the women in the group.

"Are they also simulating a rape here?" I wonder involuntarily. I remember the psychologist mentioning the day before that this can happen to both men and women in such situations. Because it's not about sex or pleasure, but about power, control, and humiliation. I mentally prepare myself, but think that they probably won't do that in this exercise.

I am turned back to the wall again. Then the sack is lifted slightly, a cup of water is held to my lips. Once again, I recall the psychologist's advice from the day before: "If you can drink, drink. If you can eat, eat!" I don't know if there is poison in the water (which the psychologist warned about), but I don't care - I'm thirsty and I drink. Then I say, "Thank you!" which earns me a "Shut up!" from the guard, making me smile under the sandbag. Even shouting becomes boring after endless repetition.

Abductors constantly patrol past me. One of them, as he walks up and down, makes the same noise with his lighter the whole time, a Zippo, which clicks characteristically metallic. Lid closed, lid open. Lid closed, lid open. Hypnotic, monotonous, intimidating. "Surely meant to wear us down," I think. Some have been worn down, as I later find out. I tune out the monotonous metallic clicking and use it instead to anticipate when the clicking abductor is at my level. And every time he passes by me, I let my arms sink into a slightly more relaxed position - until someone corrects them again; the same familiar game.

The Colonel

Sinister: Up to this point, everything happened in complete silence, meaning none of the hostage takers said a word beyond the occasional "Shut up!" Apparently, they communicated with each other solely non-verbally. Surprising how that works! They're pros.

The body check seems to be carried out with the other prisoners as well. It takes a while until something new happens. Then it happens. A loud, very confident voice sounds: "Hello dear guests, I am Colonel Abu Sahir, Chief of the National Military Intelligence Service. I welcome you to my premises. I have some questions for you so keep enjoying your stay." Aha, we're getting closer to the matter.

He continues: "Take off the sacks from your head now!" Well, I like to hear that. I rip off the sack and see where I am for the first time. All the other participants are there and alive. A long hallway, the others on the left and right next to me. Then more instructions: "You find orange overalls next to your feet. Put them on. Now!" Ok, I pick up the overall and step into it. Someone whispers next to me: "This is like Guantanamo." Slightly depressing thought.

It's not easy to put on an overall with shoes on. I sneak a peek around. We are all present. "Jalla," shouts the colonel. "Now turn the sacks back on." I was already pretty warm in the summer heat before. Now, under the overall, the sweat begins to flow. And now we have to put the damn sack back on our heads? Not again. But I pull the sandbag over me - this time, however, making sure my hair is out of the way. A small relief at least.

"We will have enough time to speak to each other. No worries. For now I will hand you over to my special friend Fedorov."

Gospodin Fedorov

Whoever that is, Fedorov now starts with the hostage on the far right, asking the first prisoner, "What's your name?" "Holger," I hear. "Wrong! You are number 1. Say again, what's your name?" "Number 1," Holger responds, crestfallen. "Sir!" he shouts. "Number 1, Sir," says Holger, visibly unhappy. Aha, depersonalization and exertion of power, I think. It leaves me rather indifferent.

My colleagues are each instructed into their numbers one by one. Some said during the debriefing that the robbery of their own personality was difficult to swallow. When you're no longer a person, but just a number. Then it's my turn. I say, "I am No. 6, Sir!" Seems to be received well, as Fedorov leaves me alone. At least now I know for sure that everyone from my group is here - and still actively participating in the exercise.

Then loud shouting in Arabic or a similar language. It quickly becomes clear to me that it's coming from a tape recorder. Since I don't understand a word, I can easily tune out the shouted tirade. I mentally sing my little song again. It's so hot! Standing in one spot in different, but all equally uncomfortable positions gradually becomes tiring. At least now I know how attrition works, if it does work.

Everything drags on. Endlessly. Time passes slowly like chewing gum. Then suddenly, a guard approaches me, takes me by the arm with practiced grip, and pushes me forward. What will happen now?

H.E.A.T. Akademie online

++ To be continued ++

WIEBKE KÖHLER

For over twenty years, she has been a top management strategy consultant; she is also a founder, keynote speaker, and multiple book author. She worked in top management consulting at Roland Berger and McKinsey & Co. during her professional career. As a partner in executive search, she accompanied international, global corporations in filling executive positions and most recently held the position as Chief Human Resources Officer at AXA Konzern AG in Germany. She is the CEO of the top management consulting firm impactWunder and supports corporations in strategic marketing and HR questions, especially in the areas of culture, values and power change, and executive development. She volunteers to improve the networking between the military and civilian society and has so far published numerous articles and two books ("Leading in the Borderline" and "Visit to the Troops - People in Uniform") on this topic.

WIEBKE KÖHLER online

HEAT TRAINING on SPARTANAT

– FREED FROM CAPTIVITY (1): Abduction

– FREED FROM CAPTIVITY (2): Captivity

– FREED FROM CAPTIVITY (3): Liberation