IT WAS SUPPOSED to be the adventure of a lifetime - a trip halfway around the world to explore an underwater paradise. Dive enthusiasts come from all over the world to encounter the marine life that surrounds Sipadan, a tiny dot of volcanic ash rising up out of the South China Sea. "It's gorgeous -- so literally one minute you are on the beach, and the next moment you are in open sea," says Monique Strydom. Monique and Callie Strydom had traveled nearly 6,000 miles -- from South Africa to Malaysia -- to dive in what some have called one of the underwater wonders of the world. "All divers, worldwide, want to go there one day," says Werner Wallert. Wallert had come from Germany with his family. They'd been on the island for nine days. And at a world-renowned resort -- for $500 a night -- it never crossed their minds their vacation would be anything but totally safe and secure. After another full day in the water, they joined the other hotel guests on the deck for cocktails. NO LONGER TRANQUIL "And then all of a sudden the tranquillity came to an end," says Callie. Heavily armed men with pistols, automatic rifles and belts of ammunition barged onto the deck, shouting, "Police!" What went through her mind when she saw the group? "Well you want to believe them when they said, 'Police!'" she says. The intruders forced the tourists and the hotel employees down a path to the beach at gunpoint, then into boats. Monique says at this stage they had no sense of what was happening, where they were being taken and why. The boats motored farther and farther from the island. Before long, the captives -- 21 of them in all -- were crossing open ocean. The hotel guests began to realize they'd been kidnapped but had no idea where they were being taken. Monique says, "We went past many islands -- many, many, many little islands. I mean, we just kind of disappeared. Nobody's ever going to know what happened to us." Almost 24 hours later, they were put ashore on a remote island somewhere in the Philippines, not to rest, but as Monique recalls, to start marching inland. "We were absolutely exhausted," she says, "We were hungry, you know, your mind is totally freaked out." It had been almost two days since they'd had food, water or sleep. And they still had no idea who had kidnapped them or why. When they finally stopped it was high up in the fog-shrouded hills on the island of Jolo, where they were forced into two broken-down shacks. "We had no toothbrushes. We had nothing. No proper clothes. We couldn't wash," says Monique. SAFE HAVEN FOR KIDNAPPERS The hotel guests were being held prisoner in the middle of a jungle, but even more frightening was that no effort was being made to conceal their presence. It soon was obvious they'd been brought to a place where their kidnappers felt perfectly safe. So safe they even allowed photographs to be taken. Monique says, "It is useless to try and escape because you know, it seemed to us the whole island was in on it." That's because Jolo is an island of devout Muslims, many of them engaged in a fierce struggle for independence from the Philippine government. And the hotel guests were about to learn their captors' struggle reached way beyond the Philippine archipelago. And they were about to learn that they'd become the latest pawns in an international conflict. Wallert says they were kidnapped for political reasons. For the first time the captives began to understand they'd been kidnapped as human bargaining chips by a group of terrorists notorious for taking hostages. They call themselves Abu Sayyaf. "They wanted to have Americans," says Wallert. "They wanted to take Americans hostage. That was the original idea of the Abu Sayyaf." Did Wallert believe that they were men of faith acting on that faith? "Of course they said they were warriors of God," he says. What the hostages didn't know was that their captives were part of Osama bin Laden's international network of terrorist cells. Many of Abu Sayyaf's leaders were trained by al-Qaida ? hardened by fighting the Soviets in Afghanistan. "These are not nice people, and they have made it very clear that they basically take no prisoners, they are going for the jugular," says Norb Garrett. Garrett is a former CIA officer who now tracks terrorist activity for the world's largest security firm, Kroll. The name Abu Sayyaf means "bearer of the sword," and Garrett says that's what they do all too well. "It's clearly one of the most active al-Qaida organizations in the world," he says. According to Philippine officials, bin Laden and al-Qaida have been supplying Abu Sayyaf with both money and weapons through a network of Islamic schools and charities. And in return, Abu Sayyaf provides logistical support to al-Qaida operatives. For example, the convicted ringleader of the 1993 World Trade Center bombings, Ramzi Yousef, stayed in an apartment building in the Philippines during his failed plot to blow up 11 jumbo jets headed to the United States. "This is a group that's bloodthirsty, seems to have no scruples about what it will do to earn some money," says Garrett. KNOWN FOR THEIR VIOLENCE At the time, the guests from the dive resort didn't know how they fit into Abu Sayyaf's scheme. But they soon discovered they weren't the only captives in the region. Abu Sayyaf rebels were also holding Catholic priests, a Philippine banker and schoolchildren. "I would consider them a band of brigands and robbers and kidnappers," says Garrett. And they also learned Abu Sayyaf was notorious not only for taking hostages but also for executing them. "It was frightening. It was frightening," says Monique. "And they killed a priest, and they beheaded two teachers." Every day the hostages wondered if the Abu Sayyaf would kill one of them. And with every passing day their living conditions deteriorated. They subsisted on dirty water and a small daily portion of rice. "The first two weeks were absolutely awful. You go from a proper life to starvation," says Monique. The hostages now understood who had them but still had no idea if the outside world knew where they were. Then on their sixth day of captivity, their first piece of good news. A single journalist was brought to the terrorists' hideout. "For us it was a great sign of hope," says Wallert. "So when the first camera came, it was a Filipino girl with a small video camera, and we said now we have a face. We will not be forgotten." That reporter was just the first of many the rebels would bring to see their captives. It is these pictures those journalists took ? and that "Dateline NBC" obtained ? that tell this story of what it's like to be a hostage in the hands of the Abu Sayyaf. "The conditions here are very poor and are deteriorating from day-to-day," says Wallert. Callie says, "[I] think we are getting weaker as time goes by. We'd like to get it over with as soon as possible." NO HELP FROM THE ARMY Just two days after that tape was made, Philippine military aircraft circled over the camp. It meant the army clearly knew where they were being held. But what the hostages couldn't understand is why -- the very next day -- artillery shells began raining down on the Abu Sayyaf and on them. "They actually shot at us with cannons. You don't rescue people with cannons. I mean, they were shooting at each other, and we were right there," says Monique. They all fled into the surrounding jungle. The 21 captives from the dive resort had spent two weeks at the mercy of armed terrorists -- and now it appeared the soldiers they'd seen as their salvation were more intent on killing the Abu Sayyaf than on getting the hostages back alive. "In that sense we actually sided with the rebels because we knew although they were the enemy they were actually protecting us," says Monique. Monique Strydom and the others were kept in what they called "open air camp" because they had no shelter and slept on the ground. | | As the attacks continued, Monique's husband, Callie, was forced to plead for a cease-fire on local radio. "We are making an urgent request. Make the Philippine government stop all military action," he said. But the military continued to mass nearby. After years of defeats by the Abu Sayyaf, the soldiers had no intention of letting them get away again. "The rebels just came running out saying 'the military,' and the next minute they were shooting," says Callie. Once more, the army attacked. Werner Wallert and the others were trapped in the crossfire. "We thought we were going to die. It is an absolute miracle that none of us got hit there," says Monique. The Abu Sayyaf retreated, taking their hostages with them, melting back into the jungle and another camp. BACK IN THE SPOTLIGHT Now, three weeks after they raided the dive resort, they brought more journalists to visit their hostages. "They brought us supply goods; they brought us new information -- reliable information," says Wallert. For the rebels, reporters meant cash -- they charged them a fee to come. But though the outsiders brought supplies and news from home, their arrival was seen as a mixed blessing. "We know the more the media came back, the longer this would go on because the rebels were benefiting from that. They were actually pocketing rice and money," says Callie. But even for the Abu Sayyaf much of the island was hostile territory. Philippine army patrols might be almost anywhere. And when they met the rebels, there were frequent firefights. So they constantly moved their hostages from camp to camp. Through it all, the man in charge called himself Commander Robot. "He had a kind of flickering in his eyes that scared me from the first moment, and I knew he was a dangerous man," says Wallert. But Commander Robot left for days at a time. So while he was in charge, he wasn't always in control of all of his men. Were the hostages worried that these heavily armed people might be operating on their own? "They were taking drugs," says Wallert. "You could smell it sometimes. They were young people, and they were heavily armed. They had fights among themselves." June turned to July. The rainy season began; everything was covered in mud. Depression settled over the camp. Even the mood of the rebels seemed to darken. "They actually shot at each other," says Monique. "And there was absolutely no control. I mean, nobody cares for you. They lose their tempers, and they kill you." TERROR TAKES ITS TOLL But the hostages had more to worry about than just the Abu Sayyaf. From the beginning, the health of Werner Wallert's wife, Renate, was reason for concern. She'd become virtually helpless with a high fever and unable to walk. Her family had to carry her to a nearby stream to keep her cool. Callie says, "We felt for her. We saw she was struggling ,and it does have a psychological effect when she is really suffering. I mean she was going into panic attacks with the shootings." And Renate's physical condition just kept getting worse. "She collapsed -- she was unconscious for a whole day, for a long day and a half. And she just lay there, and on that day we really thought she would die there," says Wallert. With Abu Sayyaf sympathizers surrounding them day and night, there was no way to escape. In fact, the rebels were so convinced of that they sometimes had their captives hold their weapons. "All the guns were within reaching distance all the time," says Wallert. "But we never tried to take a gun." Escape was not a possibility, he says. What the hostages didn't know as the third month of captivity wore on is that negotiations for their freedom were already underway. At first, the Abu Sayyaf made demands that were political -- an independent Muslim homeland and the release of Ramzi Yousef. But soon they demanded something more tangible -- ransom money -- something that Norb Garrett says they have been very successful with in the past. "So successful that their military equipment, their armament, is in some instances superior to that of the Philippine military that they are facing," he says. The hostages had now been held for almost three full months. On starvation rations, most had lost from 20 to 30 pounds. They were mentally and emotionally exhausted, the echo of gunshots never far away. "All day long you hear this firing. They fire because they are angry. They fire because they are scared. They fire because they are happy," says Wallert. WILL ANYONE PAY? As negotiations dragged on there was another threat. Abu Sayyaf operates in separate factions. There was real fear that a rival Abu Sayyaf group would try to steal the prisoners and the ransom money for themselves. "They hired groups later on to guard us," says Monique. "I think in the end they weren't concerned about our safety anymore. They just wanted us to be alive so they could do the exchange. There was a lot of fright and terror." By August, they had been held captive for almost four months. By now, the Philippine government had made clear it would not give money to its arch-enemy, the Abu Sayyaf. But just when almost all hope seemed gone, a most unlikely benefactor stepped in -- the government of Libya and its enigmatic leader, Moammar Ghadaffi, often accused of supporting terrorism themselves. The Libyans agreed to pay about a million dollars apiece to free the hostages. Some said it was a goodwill gesture to the West -- others saw a way to funnel funds to a like-minded organization. In late August, the Abu Sayyaf began releasing the tourists from the dive resort. But to keep the Philippine army at bay while rebels disappeared into the jungle, they set the hostages free in small groups. First, South African Monique Strydom, the three other women and the German Werner Wallert. Then the men, one after another. Callie Strydom says his thoughts were with the men he'd left behind. "It is very sad to leave the other guys behind. It isn't easy coming out one by one." By the end of August -- five months after their dream vacations became the nightmare of a lifetime -- the last of the tourists were set free, leaving the Abu Sayyaf behind -- only now with millions of dollars more to plan and equip future attacks. And just nine months later, this past May, in a hauntingly familiar operation, they struck again, raiding another beach resort. They took 20 hostages, including three Americans: Martin and Gracia Burnham -- missionaries from Kansas -- and Guillermo Sobero, from Corona, Calif. And from another island stronghold, the rebels forced Martin Burnham to make a public plea for help. "We are safe, and we would like to appeal to all for reasonable and safe negotiations," he said. But again, the Philippine government refused to negotiate a ransom. On June 11, the Abu Sayyaf announced it had beheaded one of the Americans, Guillermo Sobero. His brother, Alberto Sobero says, "He was so proud of being an American citizen, and ironically just being that is what killed him." Alberto Sobero is now taking care of his older brother's daughter. One hundred and fifty days after they were kidnapped, Americans Martin and Gracia Burnham remain somewhere in the jungles -- hostages of one of Osama bin Laden's international terrorist cells, the Abu Sayyaf. The Burnhams are two of a total of 18 hostages now being held by the Abu Sayyaf. The group warns it will continue to target all Americans in the Philippines unless its demands are met. President Bush has frozen the financial assets of Abu Sayyaf as part of his war on terrorism, and he's now begun sending U.S. advisers and troops to help the Philippine government fight this terrorist group. |
