The next morning the door squeaks open and I look out and it’s the commissar himself. He sat down and he said, “Stockdale, do you want a cup of coffee?” I said, “Yes.” I don’t think I had leg irons on. I went over and sat down across from him, and he said, “What happened last night was a catastrophe.” And he said, “You know I sit with the general’s staff. A report will be written. It may adversely affect me. It might even adversely affect you. I can’t say. But…” he said, “You will not stay here. We will put you back in that little place where the doctor will attend you until all traces of bandage and scars as best we can arrange it are gone.” Well, I was out there from September to almost Christmas and then I went back. Things had happened. I was completely out of communication there. I found out two things. One, nobody had ever been in the ropes since I cut my wrists, and secondly, the commissar had been discharged. So from then on the life was never the same. It wasn’t happy, but I shut down that torture system and they never wanted it brought up again.