These Iraqi boys had been doing this professionally for years. I knew all about electrodes and meat hooks. Would I be hanging up there soon?īack at SAS headquarters in Hereford, I'd heard all the horror stories from the Iran–Iraq war. I looked up and my eyes fixed on a large hook in the middle of the ceiling. The once-cream walls were covered with muck and splashed with two enormous bloodstains - two or three pints of blood at least I reckoned. They slapped and kicked me and then left, slamming the metal door behind them. I didn't say or do anything, I just went with the flow. The guards flung me into the prison cell and forced me down on the floor, into a stress position - legs crossed, my knees right up, shoulders straight and my hands cuffed behind my back.
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