Found: 1:30pm, Sunday afternoon (8.5 hrs after attack)

Deep in my thoughts, I was on a quest to determine how we would escape from our situation. I had a very egotistical hope that my presence in Epulu (the only expatriate) might help speed up the relief effort. I mean, my country, the US, is omnipresent and capable of swooping into any old backwater and saving the day, right? So, if they knew we had been attacked (and that I was there) they’d undoubtedly be working overtime on my behalf, right? Whereas other massacres happen without too much stress for the US embassy, this time, they would know that an American was in the shit and needed help.

But how would I be rescued? Would the UN send a helicopter and pick me up out of there? I began to imagine that a helicopter might come and I would be the one they were going to rescue first. Certainly they’d come with several helicopters to rescue the injured and try to account for me and others. If confronted with scarce places in the chopper, would they allow me to cede my place to those who were gravely injured? Would they then send another helicopter to rescue me later? Ridiculous what the mind comes up with really…I wanted to be important enough to be rescued and a hero at the same time.

Finally at about 1:30 pm, more than 8 hours since the siege had begun began, we heard what we had longed to hear: an aircraft. We listened as it slowly approached, cautiously stepping out of the shady corner of our maize field in order to get a look at the sky. Its approaching rotor assured us that it was a helicopter…and was undoubtedly a UN helicopter. In DRC, they are an indicator of the insecurity which reigns throughout this region, and typically it means that some bad guys are somewhere not too far away.

However, Epulu was different. In three years there, I had only seen one UN helicopter, 1 ½ months prior to the attack, when the rumors about rebels had heightened. It came and made a few sweeps over Epulu and then it went, ready to report back on its mission. Since then, I’d been in Bunia, where a huge UN contingent is based, and these helicopters make daily flights for logistical, transport, and emergency reasons. So, the chopper’s arrival was proof that the outside world had heard about our situation.

We didn’t have much open sky (it being a tiny field in the middle of the bush) but we saw the helicopter, a big grasshopper-shaped thing, which flew at a very high altitude above us, making a bee-line for the station area. It started to sweep over the village area and suddenly a few shots rang out. The rebels were still there and even had the balls to shoot at a UN helico! Surely they UN would have to act! Even if they left, they’d get reinforcements and return. This was the beginning of the end!

The chopper made another wider sweep and then left. In total, the aerial reconnaissance lasted for less than 5 minutes. Despite our small window of sky, we had a good view of the chopper as it departed. I watched with uncertainty as it moved so slowly out and away from us, back towards civilization where they would make decisions about how to break us out of this jungle prison.

I calculated that they’d return in a minimum of 3 hours, so we could still get out before darkness fell at 6:30 pm, that is…if things went well. This wasn’t too much longer to wait.

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