PRISON DIARY
5th June 2018
Less of a diary and more of a written account of what happened to us after the aliens left. It’s been just over three years since I last wrote anything down, and only now have I been able to scavenge a few scraps of paper and something to write with. I write because others must know what happen to us while being detained.
One morning we found the aliens and their ship had gone. The night before and we were sitting down for our evening meal, when I noticed one of the aliens watching us. There was no interaction. He didn’t want anything or anyone. He just stood there on his own in the corner. He then looked at me for a brief moment and I knew then that this was going to be the last time I would see him or any of his kind. By following morning they were gone - leaving us to pick up the pieces.
Days before and we were returned to the surface and our numbers began to dwindle - until less than one hundred of us remained. We were told that we would be taken to Scotland. The good news is that black eye was reversible. All we needed was plenty of sun light and rest. We would be treated as refugees (fast-tracked through the system), but not all of us would be leaving. I remember that morning visiting the graveyard filled with all those who didn’t make it - all those bloody accidents. I kept busy for seven months and three weeks and four days and now I was left alone to deal with what had gone before, but Scotland would have to wait.
Around midday around 120 fully armed US Marines stormed into our compound and at gun point we became the enemy. Even our own soldiers were disarmed and finally we became as one. We tried to explain our condition but we were literally beaten into submission. We were held for three days without food, with all requests or pleas being ignored. Finally we were marched to a vacated prison, a journey that took two days, and during which time three of my friends died. Their bodies were burnt which broke our spirits and delighted our captors. That was three years ago.
Because the information going to and from our captors and their superiors took months, we were kept like animals and treated like a defeated race by earth’s victorious army - those who turned up the day after the real aliens had left. Any dissent or protest or simple request was brutally put down. We were alien scum. Only after our captors were replaced with more informed troops did things improved, but we will never forgive. We were no longer aliens, but infected detainees and subject to US military law. We were also valuable assets in trying to figure out who these aliens were and where they came from. We had also worked with alien technology too and the Americans wanted every scrap of information they could gather.
We were originally kept in isolation and questioned on a daily basis by amateurs. Yet they didn’t want answers and they didn’t want to know what really happened. They would ask question after question - repeating themselves again and again without giving us the space to give any answers. We simply couldn’t get a word in. If you protested or try to reason with them you were harassed.
That was then and today we no longer suffer from Black Eye and our daily debriefs or interrogations ended months ago. In the end and with new captors we were finally allowed to tell our story - about aliens and our encounters with them. I had hoped that that would hasten our release.
Our numbers have dwindled and our treatment has improved, though we are still held captive. Managed to scavenge some paper and a pen - hence this written account. We have a football and several board games, but little else. No books. We are fed on a strict diet of US Army rations and more rations and more rations and little else, while our captors dine on freshly prepared food.
Information from the outside world is scarce. We are told that the US military are running England, though with few survivors what’s the point? Most who survived the fireball and its aftermath are now living in Scotland as refugees, but not us. We don’t even know if anyone from the outside world knows of our existence?
YEAR FIVE OF CAPTIVITY
17th March 2020
Where to start? About two months ago my cell mate hanged himself. He simply gave up. The food had improved (they simply ran out of army rations) and our newly rotated captors have become more amenable, if not damn-right friendly, but my friend simply gave up. Maybe he had too much thinking time and too little to keep his mind off what happened to his family. Poor chap. He lost everything, including his mind in the end. For the record his name was Clive Benson. Luckily I was quickly paired off with another survivor or inmate (same difference) and we keep each other going. We now have books to read and paper to write on, but we are still held captive.
My health has deteriorated - largely due to the diet and my rotting teeth. In the end a US Army dentist - the only one in England - was summoned and I was returned to my cell minus five teeth. We are now proud owners of tooth brushes but no tooth paste. We are also issued with vitamins and have regular medical checks.
We know a little more of what happened. Six years ago when the fireball descended across Europe it also knocked out all forms of electrical energy and electronic circuitry, not only in the UK but across the entire planet. They called it a Mega EMP that killed millions, as thousands of airliners crashed to earth. Others died on operating tables or while on life-support in numerous hospitals. Trapped miners perished underground, while ships - both large and small - drifted in mid-ocean, unable to radio for help. The world that had become reliant on automated food production and processed ready-meals began to starve, but as quickly as all this happened mankind started to reorganise itself.
Most of the information we are given comes from the US army officer in charge of our “safety“. We meet up each month to voice our concerns and air our grievances, and in return any non-sensitive information is dished out. The food has improved.
We were recently told that within weeks of the disaster unfolding, the US government sent out sailing ships to every corner of the globe looking for clues as to what had happened. Over sixty ships were requisitioned then dispatched from both the East and West coasts of America, and eight weeks later the US Coast Guard Clipper Eagle arrived in Liverpool to find the city in ruins, with only a handful of survivors being rescued. Two weeks later the same ship sailed into Prestwick where it made contact with the Scottish Government. Other ships made it to the Mediterranean, and within eight months the epicentre was determined to have been in northern Italy.
Despite our captors willingness to discuss what happened globally, any mention of aliens or space craft is met with silence. We all know what happened was closely associated with what came out of the sky - our alien visitors, but the Yanks either can’t or won’t discuss the matter, even though a lot of what they know probably came from us. When will we be released? No idea is the response. I ask if Scotland knows about our imprisonment and again we hit a wall of silence.
Although I have enough paper to start another diary, I have lost or burnt three others, and my argument is why bother? Every day is the same. The cells are opened at 7.30am and a quick body count before breakfast - served by US Army cooks. Breakfast is porridge - always porridge, but what were you expecting being banged up in a former prison? Everything is informal. We are allowed to gather for exercise in the morning - to play football (sometimes against our captors). No lunch, but we have a cooked meal at around 6pm. We are told that we eat like kings compared to others. Not sure what they mean? We usually sit and read under lanterns for an hour or two before being escorted back to our cells. Once banged up there is nothing to do other than read or sleep. That said, things have improved beyond all recognition from those first hellish days.
At first they genuinely thought we were aliens or hybrids - half human and half ET. We were beaten and kicked, while our pleas were ignored. We were the gooks and the commies of our generation - the latest to be despised by an army who knew little of what had happened. Even we didn’t really know the full story. Who authorised the mining operation and why did the human race agree to help those who brought only death and destruction? We worked with these aliens and their army guardians for several months, but apart from the Major, we never saw anyone who appeared to be in authority.
We obeyed the army and the army obeyed the aliens. The army were our intermediaries and our guards, but they were Gods compared to the US Marines. In the end the British soldiers who guarded us with loaded rifles became our allies and even dined with us. I can never forgive the US Marines for what they did to me and my friends. I don’t know his name but there was one marine who killed three of my friends, including Jim or Jimmy Simmons who first entered the mine a few days after me. He was a worker - very careful at his job - who survived rock falls and numerous idiots as they sliced through flesh and bone, only for my friend to be shot in the head by some “jarhead“ with a grudge.
In the end and in this hell hole (working down the mine was a holiday) you simply had to curl up in a protective ball and let the marines shout and scream and kick and punch - just to survive the moment.
We were banged up one per cell then. Each day we were interrogated, though more for entertainment value than to gain a real insight into what happened to us or Europe. The luckiest prisoners were those dragged out of their cells at the beginning of the day. The more unfortunate of us had to wait our turn - while having to endure sounds of angry marines and frightened inmates. We were humiliated and beaten by an invading army that destroyed what the firestorm didn’t touch.
Only after these bastard marines had been replaced with fresh blood that the beatings ended and we were interrogated for the purposes of being interrogated. Our new captures were greater in number yet life became bliss. We didn’t mind answering the same old questions day after day. We even starting to remember minute details of what happened below ground. Then it all ended - no more questions. We were escorted back to our cells and abandoned. Our captors were replaced again and again, though each time this change brought heightened anxiety. Would the marines return?
YEAR SEVEN OF CAPTIVITY
25th June 2022
They haven‘t (so far). Soon after writing the above, we were downsized to another part of the prison and my journal ended up being temporarily abandoned and hidden away. I‘m running out of paper, but I will continue…
Spent the morning in the exercise yard walking in circles, then sun bathing. We have nurtured a small patch of grass on which we just sit and read or just lay on our backs - taking in the sun. And that is what we do most days when it‘s not raining or too cold. Our football was confiscated months ago, so we try and relax by inventing games, while our captors try to stave off boredom themselves. There were 87 of us when we arrived and today that number has dropped to 31. Talking to the others, we believe that eight were murdered and twelve committed suicide, while the rest died from various illnesses. The last to die just dropped dead while waiting to be served one morning - about three weeks ago. He was one of the oldest and like us all he had survived May 2014 - walking for eight days without food, before being picked up by an army patrol and force to work down the mine.
The plunder of England continues. The premise is that in return for allowing those Brits living in America to stay, those in authority (?) signed over salvage rights to those who would profit from our country’s demise. Talking to those who look over us it is hard to tell if the yanks own England or have only been granted the right to strip her of everything not nailed down.
30th June 2022
Woke up to find the Americans have gone. Spent the morning exploring the prison looking for food and my journal - thought I wrote more than I did? Our captors have been replaced by a single Scottish army doctor, who unlocked our cells. That evening we gathered in the main atrium. Out of around 87 detainees only 31 of us remain. It was only then that we realised we were the lucky ones. Thousands worked down the mines and only 31 survived. Maybe there are other prisons or detention centres?
In the end our captors became irritated - wanting to return to the US sooner rather than later. We knew something was on the cards. They had little or no interest in us anymore, and after they left it became apparent that they’d been waiting weeks for someone to take charge, while they themselves slipped out during the night. According to our liberator the US military have largely been replaced by private contractors, who are systematically stripping England of everything valuable. They claimed salvage rights to England in return for helping those Britons still living in the USA. England had effectively been abandoned, with Scotland being given full independence three years previously.
FREE AT LAST!!!
Tonight we are sleeping in our cells with the doors unlocked, but no one can sleep. I can hear talking and each cell is bathed in candle light - for many this is a first. What little food we find is being handed round, but I sit here alone writing because I must and because now it can be told. I didn’t write about the escape attempts in case these scraps of paper might have been discovered.
As soon as we were able to congregate at meal times and during exercise periods, we started to gather information about our captors and the prison. The good news is that all the CCTV and electronic security measures no longer worked. Communication between captors was by word of mouth only, though they did carry whistles to summon help if required.
We spent months going over several plans and in all honesty this kept us alive - kept our minds occupied. Some thought it fun and a diversion. We reckoned that anyone escaping would take around six days to walk to Scotland and freedom. Our plight would then be known and we would all be freed. That was the plan. The first attempt failed as soon as it began. Any escape attempt had to happen during the day when we were largely free to roam around the prison. The problem is that our home was contained within a slightly larger home, which itself was contained within the prison’s outer wall. Ten months ago we discovered a way out. Not by going over the top or by digging a tunnel. The US soldiers were billeted in another wing of the prison - in cells identical to our own (only our cells were locked at night). To keep busy we would clean and tidy up after them, which gave us access to their laundry.
Somehow one of us managed to ‘borrow’ a couple of uniforms and shortly thereafter two inmates simply walked out of the prison. The escape attempt took months of planning. We hoarded anything that would be useful during the long walk to Scotland. We knew that if we kicked our football over the fence two guards would be dispatched to retrieve it. This we knew from previous experience. The knack was in the timing. We needed our men to position themselves while others distracted the guards. It worked and our chaps just walked out of the prison.
We knew that although the camp was well guarded (preventing us from escaping), there simply weren’t the numbers needed to search for escapees and no radio communications to summon help. Those guarding us didn’t even bother to count us before we were locked up at night. Plus we were able to pretend that there were two to a cell. One inmate even conducted a conversion with a pile of bedding fashioned into someone lying in bed. By the following morning when they finally realised that two of us were missing, we knew that they had a good eighteen hours head start.
When it was discovered that two of us were missing our captors took it on the chin, though our football was confiscated. And we spent the last eight months wondering what happened to our friends. Did they make it? Perhaps that’s why we are finally free?
In the morning we are to make our own way to Scotland - a journey we are told will take five days. Although it will add another day to our journey we ask if we can return to the mine. The army doctor agrees and tomorrow we leave this place, well some of us.
14th July 2022
I cannot write and have decided not to add to what I have already written. The common conscientious is that we should not have returned to the mine and to our friends. The camp - indeed the entire area is fenced off and guarded by US private contractors. The fence appears to run for miles and we assume that it encompasses all the separate mines. We know what is perhaps still buried underground. The most heart breaking of all was the cemetery overlooking “our” mine. This was where we buried our friends and those we hardly knew - those newly arrived and who succumbed to accidents that could have been avoided. The graves have all been removed.
Hoping we could have a quick look around, the army doctor approached a couple of guards and showed his ID. This meant nothing and we were ordered to vacate the area immediately. I sat down in the long grass and closed my eyes - trying to remember all those I tried to help and those I couldn’t. Two of my friends picked me up and we continued on our journey to Scotland. We didn’t look back. We couldn’t look back. We survived one day at a time and we lived one day at a time.
That was three or four days ago. Another rest and some more out-of-date army rations. It’s starting to rain and I am told that just beyond ’that’ tree in the distance is Scotland.
Me thinks "The Lost Diaries of John Smith" would make an excellent TV series! I'm just saying...
As with all my Steemit content, this post and my book "The Lost Diaries of John Smith" are the copyright of Phillip Rhodes (c) 2011-2017.
