Meet Arvell Bass 

On Mother’s Day 2002, I was in an office trailer on a drilling location in a remote area of Colombia, South America talking on the phone with my sister. I heard a sound from outside that I can only describe as pops. In seconds I discovered those sounds were gunfire and I was terrified when I saw that the bullets were passing through the paper thin walls of my accommodations. Head down, I ran outside and threw myself to the ground behind some sand bags that were arranged on the perimeter fence of our location to wait it out.

I was new to Colombia, having been convinced by my employer BP that I was perfectly safe and that there were "absolutely no problems" with Colombia’s famed Guerrilla’s or terrorists. Suddenly, I was finding out differently. We were under attack by 25- 30 fierce guerilla fighters.

I was in charge of a specialized drilling operation that was encompassed by a security fence. We were guarded by 56 military policemen who worked 8 hour shifts and were stationed in various styles of bunkers around the perimeter. Just serious insurance I concluded after my first arrival to the location.

While squatting behind the sand bags with my heart pounding I was joined by our Colombian radio man and logistics specialist. I had practiced Spanish for a couple years, so he was able to let me know that the guerrillas had downed our helicopter that was arriving to the location to change out some workers and he didn’t know if everyone was okay or not. He also advised me that our base operations people had been notified and they had contacted the Colombian military who were the only ones who could save us. All we could do was wait and pray.

My initial feelings might have been best described as excitement and a light-headed giddiness. Suddenly, they were turning into raw fear - as I saw the fear, the shaking, and the sweat on the face of my Colombian partner in hiding. He pointed to tears in the burlap of the sand bags protecting us and signaled for me to get down. The guerillas were using armor piercing bullets that were passing through the sand bags.

My fear quickly escalated as I thought about why we were being attacked. I was one of 3 Americans on the location and kidnapping is near the top of the guerilla’s business priorities. I suddenly remembered a conversation from many years ago with some drilling associates who had worked in countries that were less than safe. They said that big companies like my employer never paid ransoms as it made further kidnappings much more likely. I thought of my beautiful wife and daughters at home and my fear turned to terror when I thought of what they might go through in the event that I was kidnapped and a settlement was not reached.

The tension on my Colombian friends face increased and he began pointing outside the fence and whispering "mas cerca", they’re getting closer, and I realized he was right. The gunfire outside our area of the fence was getting closer and my chances of survival depended on my staying hidden as long as possible. I felt the urge to hide and I thought of a few places inside the location that might buy some time if I could just get there. As I thought of an escape route and raised my head, I saw the dust being raised from all the bullets. I realized relocating wasn’t a good idea.

The guerilla overran our security forces. They were close enough to my location now that I could hear whispered voices, rustling in the grass, and the reloading of their weapons. They were close! My fear was raw and the helplessness I felt was overwhelming.

One hour and 15 minutes after it began we heard the sound of a helicopter! At the first sound of the blades I immediately looked into the eyes of my partner, and I saw hope. It was the Colombian military coming to our rescue with some heavy artillery. The guerillas began their retreat at the first sound of the chopper. They were no match for mounted 50mm machine guns that could bare a tree with a burst of firepower. We had been saved.

Some of my co-workers were helping carry in the wounded before the firing had completely stopped and I remember wanting to get up and help but my legs wouldn’t function.

My life changed that day. I got to find out what was important in life. For many weeks I didn’t think about the things that men tend to think about – things I needed to buy, how much money I made, when we would need a new car, and when we’d get the house paid off. I thought about the things I wished I’d said, the things I wished I hadn’t said, and God I wanted to be home!

In the weeks that followed I became extremely angry for no reason. I felt a sense of dread and panic all the time. I knew something was wrong. Our family doctor sent me to a Psychiatrist and a therapist who began treating me for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I didn’t want to believe it. I hadn’t really been to war for years. The doctor finally told me that I had to quit comparing myself to a soldier. Soldiers are armed, trained, prepared, and have a team and a mission. I was more like a rabbit in the briars waiting on the hounds. When I thought of it that way it was a little easier to accept.

What’s this got to do with horses?

It became evident immediately that I wouldn’t be returning to my line of work any time soon. Any responsibility would send me spiraling down a really dark and scary road. I began working around our place like mad. It was therapy. I had several horses in training and I was spending a lot of time with them. I suddenly started realizing that I didn’t have panic and anxiety attacks when I was with the horses. I wanted to be there all the time.

I started realizing something else: the horses wanted to be with me. I never said anything about it to my cowboy friends, but it was shocking to observe how horses that were previously very aloof and in some cases not easy to catch now wanted to be with me. The horses, at times, would almost wrap their necks around me if I just stood quietly beside them. The horses helped me heal.

I was discovering just how social, intelligent, and intuitive horses are. I had known it before, but this was at an entirely different level. I saw horses through different eyes. I became softer with horses and stopped being so demanding; and I was amazed to find that the horses actually learned much faster! I still expect a high level of performance from a horse, but now I build lots of time into my training to let a horse relax and I get much better results. My horses are happier and I’m happier too!