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When Fran got the wrong letter, she understood the guard's tactic immediately and it made her furious.
Liddy retaliated. He found a way to tap prison staff telephones, then embarrassed the officers with his knowledge of their sexual affairs and theft of prison property. At his final prison stop, the federal prison camp at Allenwood, Pa., Liddy enraged one group of convicts by persuading guards to turn off TV sets after midnight so he could sleep. The angry prisoners first harassed him, then even vowed to kill him.
I had gotten a weapon, a stout handle with a piece of jagged, rusted metal still attached to one end, by jumping the fence into a restricted area and taking it from behind a tool shed. From the power plant I stole a short length of steel pipe and from the kitchen a table knife. I sharpened the table knife on cement, the way I had a similar one at Danbury when I learned from the authorities that an informer had told the FBI there was a contract out on me and I declined official protection in favor of my own method.
My enemies put out the word that they were going to attack me on the night of Thursday, 3 February, 1977. I was determined to fight it out and knew well that I'd have to kill.
One guard on duty that night who knew (as did everyone) of the planned attack, begged me to accept protection by spending the night in the hospital. He had been a Hungarian Freedom Fighter, immigrating to the U.S. after his country was invaded by Russia in the 1950s.
I put it to him this way: "If I run now, where do I stop? You should understand the results of weakness."
"But it's different, what happened in Hungary. That was between whole countries!"
"The principle is the same."
"Please. I cannot protect you. You may die."
"I don't want your protection. I can protect myself better than you can. If I die, I won't be alone." I showed the guard my weapons. I was smiling.
"You enjoy this!" he said. "Yes."
"It's true what they say. You are a fascist!"
I lay down, fully dressed except for shoes, and arranged the covers over me. Lying alongside my body under the blanket was the big ax handle. I could sweep that handle out in a second and knock two men off their feet by striking directly at their knees. In my hand was the knife, and the pipe was under my pillow. I was ready.
A second guard asked if I wanted to go to the hospital.
"Don't worry about me," I said, "worry about them." I showed him my weapons and he shined his light on them, then looked up at me with a smile and said: "Shoot straight." I knew what he meant. Don't leave anyone alive as a witness. It was good advice and I intended to follow it.
The attack never materialized. No one wanted to be the first to die. They were afraid, never having learned what I taught myself: defeat the fear of death and welcome the death of fear.
*Liddy claims that at this