Resilience in the Face of Terror: My Journey of Survival
A family's harrowing survival through terrorism and the fifty-year silence that followed.
The Beginning
I grew up in a place that was once a haven of peace and tranquility—a place where the innocence of childhood was untainted by the horrors of the world. But that all changed one fateful day, when the specter of terrorism cast its dark shadow over my life and the life of my family. The once-vibrant streets of my hometown were suddenly quelled by fear and suspicion of anyone we didn’t know.
The Unseen Threat
As the shadow of terrorism loomed over the city, we never could have imagined that one of the terrorists had managed to secure employment in my father’s office. His résumé was exemplary, and his knowledge and responses during the interview made him stand out, ultimately securing his position with the company.
Eventually, the realization struck us like a bolt of lightning, shattering any remaining semblance of normalcy. The man who had seemed like a benign colleague was unmasked as a terrorist—his true intentions hidden behind a façade of normality—who would soon bring unforeseen peril to our family. The knowledge that the enemy was not just outside our home, but embedded within the walls of our daily routines, added an unbearable weight to our already heavy hearts. Anywhere we went, and anyone we were with, we had to consider their safety as well.
The Day That Changed Everything
It was a day like any other—or so I thought. I remember waking up, going to school as usual, and then arriving home to find guards surrounding our house. Little did I know this would mark the beginning of a harrowing journey that would test our family’s resolve and fortitude.
Our family had received a death sentence from the Tupamaro terrorists after my father set up a sting operation that caught the terrorists in his office. That evening, the attacks began.
The first assault involved an object hurled onto our roof, breaking a terracotta tile and shattering glass in its path. The crash sent shockwaves through the air, piercing the tranquility of the night. Panic ensued as fear gripped our family and we were jolted awake. More assaults followed in the form of thick glass bottles hurled from speeding cars—relentless and violent, turning our home into a battlefield.
We soon learned these attacks would repeat nightly, sporadically around the clock, ensuring we became sleep-deprived and psychologically worn down.
In the End
Things worsened. Kidnapping attempts became frequent, and I was among the targets. The Uruguayan military, along with Dan Mitrione—an ex-FBI and CIA operative—played a key role in helping us navigate this terrifying reality.
Our neighborhood was sealed off, with two checkpoints installed. Guards surrounded our home at all times—inside the house, on the roof, around the garage, inside the garage, and atop the garage roof. Our car was checked for bombs every morning, and a guard started it for us each day. Each of us was assigned a bodyguard.
It felt like imprisonment.
Escaping
To avoid alerting any possible Tupamaro terrorist sympathizers among our neighbors, guards silently pushed our car for nearly a block and a half while we walked behind it in complete silence. Once we were given the signal, we quietly got in. The guard started the car and did not hesitate—we sped to the airport along a designated route, escorted the entire way.
Let the Mental Games Begin
After we escaped, we were never allowed to talk about what we experienced—either with others or even among ourselves—for safety reasons. We had to rebuild our lives in a new place, constantly looking over our shoulders, haunted by the shadows of our past. We were warned they were still coming after us, yet we were expected to act normal.
The silence was a heavy burden—a necessary shield that protected us, but one that was deeply isolating. The memories of the terror we endured were locked behind a thin veil, only whispered about in the deepest recesses of our minds. Suppressing those memories and experiences left unresolved scars, until I finally released them fifty years later, when I published our story.
“Carrasco 67: A Harrowing Tale of an Imperialist Pig”
by Elaine Broun
Available on Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/Carrasco-67-harrowing-tale-Imperialist/dp/B09BLBW45X
