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Run Run... On the big pitch, mild summer weather was in the air.

But for us, aching from the torture, hungry, haggard, stinking, tattered, tired of our uncertain future, all we longed for was a breath of energy that would allow us to feel that we were still alive and that the feelings of our absent loving partners were present.

The stadium had to be emptied because of the approaching World Cup qualifying match in which Chile would play the Soviet Union. We were told that we’d all be transferred to northern Chile, to the desert.

Many of our fellow prisoners had already been transferred to the Santiago Public Prison, others to their towns and villages to be tried locally, while a few were released and the women, who were held in the same conditions in the pool area, were transferred to a section of the Stadium stands. They waited, like the rest of us, for the loudspeakers to inform us about our future situation.

We would listen attentively for our names to be called out, in order to go and receive some personal item sent by our families, something to accompany us on our new journey into the unknown.

As always, and in true military style, we had to march in a column. Carrying 'all our stuff', at around 4 in the afternoon, a group was formed that consisted of all of us who had made the pilgrimage together from other detention and torture centres.

Walking along the running track, our heads bowed and trying to catch the breath needed for that moment, we suddenly heard a murmur greeting and singing to us 'Run Run, se fue pa’l norte, no sé cuándo vendrá…' (Run Run went up North, I don’t know when he’ll come…).

The whispering voices came from the sector where the female comrades were held. Our skin tingled and tears welled up in more than one of us.

We turned to greet them and raising our arms in greeting, we sent them a comradely kiss.