I was traveling through Iraq in a convoy of trucks and cars; my father was also traveling in one of the vehicles. Our convoy had stopped to take a break and we had parked our vehicles up on a high bank above the road, in front of a building which I thought was a restaurant.

One of our trucks had been pulling a trailer loaded with hay. The trailer came loose from the truck and careened down the bank into the road below. A large semi-truck was coming down the road and headed straight for the trailer. It looked certain that the semi was going to hit the trailer, but the semi managed to swerve off the road and stop without reaching the trailer.

I thought I should go down there and pull the trailer off the road. As I headed down the side of the hill, I was thinking that the situation wasn't as bad there in Iraq as I might have expected with the war going on. Iraqis were walking around on the streets and no one was bothering me, even though I was obviously an American. So maybe it wasn't so bad there.

Just as I reached the trailer, however, I felt something grab my feet from behind. I turned around and saw two Iraqi boys holding my feet. I struggled, but they wouldn't let go and I couldn't free myself from their grip. Suddenly I realized I was in trouble, that these boys were going to try to kidnap me. As I continued to struggle, two more boys showed up and grabbed each of my arms. It looked as if the four of them were going to try to pick me up and carry me away.

I looked at the top of the bank where we had parked. There I could see a white building about five stories tall like an apartment building with balconies for each apartment. There were dozens of apartments. I thought my father was probably standing on one of those balconies looking down at me, but I couldn't see him anywhere. I screamed, "Help!"

I still didn't see him and I despaired that he would come down to help me.

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