"Inside the New Camp X-Ray"

[All the obscene details below are hard to keep in mind when I try to
reconcile treating human beings this way -- recall: none of whom have been
charged, much less convicted of *anything* -- and then paying to "treat
their mental problems", which are the predictable and obvious result of
the way they are being treated.]

Mirror (UK) - Sep 9 2002

INSIDE THE NEW CAMP X-RAY

From RICHARD WALLACE, US Editor at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba
 
THIS is the first glimpse of Camp Delta, the new Camp X-Ray at Guantanamo
Bay in Cuba.

Here 598 al-Qaeda and Taliban suspects from 38 countries - including seven
Britons - are held without charge, without legal rights and for some,
without hope.

For 167 of the 168 hours in a week their world is a cramped 8ft x 6ft 8in
cell.

Their day-to-day existence in a remote corner of the US Naval Base on the
south-east of the island is pitiful.

The strain of living in such conditions - condemned by human rights groups
again last week - has taken a severe toll. The Daily Mirror has learned
that more than 30 of the men have attempted suicide.

Occupying five dusty acres on a clifftop half a mile from the old Camp
X-Ray, the new facility is no temporary jail.

Camp Delta is designed as a permanent prison - a grim monument of rigid
metal, steel and razor wire to President Bush's determination to continue
offending basic human rights. As the weeks and months crawl by, more and
more unidentified prisoners arrive.

Last month 34 were flown in from Afghanistan. Their arrival left just 14
vacancies, but phase three of the prison will be finished by next month,
allowing the camp to incarcerate 816.

So far £30million has been poured into the project - that's £36,764 a cell
- and blueprints for the facility to be expanded to detain 2,000 prisoners
have been approved.

Senior officers have also earmarked a site near the base airfield for a
bricks and mortar prison. A fully-equipped permanent hospital with 116
beds is being built at high speed to replace the medical centre of
scruffy, beige tents where 50 major surgeries have been performed since
the detainees began to arrive in January.

Guantanamo's business is banging up suspected Taliban and al-Qaeda.  And
business is clearly good for the Americans.

But the mental health of the detainees is cause for concern. One of the 30
who attempted suicide tried to slash his wrists with a plastic razor while
three others tried to hang themselves.

US officials also confirmed to us that 37 other detainees are being
treated for severe mental health problems.

And 18 of those psychiatric cases are so severely traumatised that they
are receiving daily treatment and powerful drugs to stave off a variety of
symptoms.

The psychiatric problems include major depression, post-traumatic stress,
personality disorders, psychotic attacks and suicidal tendencies.

A new Amnesty International report says the detainees are in legal limbo
and face a serious breach of their human rights.

They are routinely denied the right to see lawyers, although they could
face trial by special US military courts with power to pass death
sentences.

The Mirror quizzed guards, doctors, nurses and military officials during a
heavily-escorted three-day visit.

Our every move was monitored. And it was difficult to get any information,
either on or off the record.

But despite the tight restrictions the Mirror has pieced together the most
accurate picture yet of life for the detainees. And it's not pretty.

The cramped cells, cut from steel shipping containers and even smaller
than X-Ray's notorious cages, are collected in 10 blocks.

Delta, surrounded by thick green netting to keep out prying eyes, is
brightly lit by powerful arc lights 24 hours a day and the camp is ringed
with seven wooden guard towers manned by sharpshooters.

There are regular incidents when some prisoners go stir crazy, shouting
and screaming as they climb and claw their cell walls in despair.

But most of the time there is an eerie, pathetic silence. On our two
visits to the camp there wasn't a sound and it was hard to believe there
was any life behind the wire at all.

Overhead, like extras in a bad movie, huge black turkey vultures lazily
circled the parched landscape.

The 30 who have tried to end their lives have taken desperate and pathetic
measures. A few have used the plastic utensils issued with their meals to
try and slash their wrists.

Some repeatedly banged their heads against the metal wall in their cells
or punched the walls in frustration.

Other men suffer from insomnia which in turn makes them anxious and then
depressed. A few pace their cells manically or pass the time doing endless
press-ups.

Extraordinarily, the military insist none of men's mental health has
degenerated since being incarcerated in either camp and that all 37 had
their psychiatric problems before being captured.

Doctor Commander James Radkee said: "Some have maladaptive, life-long
behavioural problems."

When we confronted Delta commander Brigadier General Rick Baccus he
admitted there had been problems.

"We are concerned about their mental health," he said. "So we have expert
personnel trained in such issues who take care of that aspect of medical
treatment."

But army chaplain Major Mike Merrill, a 35-year-old Southern Baptist
preacher from Maryland who ministers to the guards and some of the
detainees, admitted talk of suicide was common.

He said: "They are going through a very rough time. There are issues of
loneliness, frustration, anger, emotional mood swings.

"They miss their families, they lose hope and lose sight of tomorrow.
Like any prison there are a few individuals who will say, 'I don't want to
live any more. I have no purpose'."

Merrill initially saw the one Christian detainee, but has converted five
Muslims to Christianity and has lent them Bibles translated into
Arabic. "I didn't try to convert them, they approached me," he added.

Along one wall of the cells is a welded metal bedframe 4ft off the floor
on which the detainee places his inch-thick foam mattress.

Underneath they store approved personal possessions - prayer mat and
beads, a pair of flip-flops, a bucket, towel, flannel, toothpaste, soap,
shampoo and a copy of the Koran. They have access to books on religious
texts and vocabulary and are allowed to send four letters and two
postcards a month. Writing materials are confiscated as soon as their
letters are completed.

The rear section of the cell has a 4ft x 4ft mesh window which allows - in
theory - the breeze from the Caribbean to blow through the prison.

But the desert heat which sends temperatures soaring into the high 90s by
8am, coupled with intense humidity, means there's little fresh air, let
alone wind, to cool off in.

A big steel dome on the roof of each cell houses a cooling fan which is
turned on or off at the discretion of the guards.

Prisoners are sometimes treated for dehydration, but the military insist
they do have a permanent supply of water and that it is often their own
fault.

In one corner of the cell is a flushable toilet built into the concrete
floor alongside a lowered wash basin to allow Muslim prisoners to wash
their feet before prayers.

They get three meals a day, all halal approved, totalling around 2,700
calories.

Food is served on plastic plates and passed through a slot in the wire
cell door.

Each week they receive just two opportunities to exercise for a strict
15-minute period. That's it. They exercise in a purpose-built yard
shielded from the rest of the population. Most run around in circles and
it is no wonder the detainees have all gained an average of a stone locked
up in their cells for such long stretches.

Disgracefully, yet just within the guidelines of the Geneva Convention,
they are allowed only two 15-minute showers a week when they are also
given a freshly laundered orange two-piece prison suit.

Each time they are required to leave their cell they are shackled at the
hands, waist and feet and escorted by at least two guards who tightly grip
either arm.

Detainees needing medical help - one in three has dormant tuberculosis -
are strapped to a trolley to be taken to hospital and are also restrained
and manacled by their ankle to hospital beds during treatment.

Five times a day a taped message calls them to prayer. Inmates attempt to
engage the guards in conversation, calling out in English.  The guards are
under orders to be be polite, but businesslike.

Occasionally, in a rare moment of good humour, some of the captives sing
Britney Spears or Madonna songs. Oddly, country singer Garth Brooks is a
particular favourite.

It is camp policy that inmates use a normal speaking voice. Any shouting
or attempts to communicate with other prisoners over distance are punished
severely. The ultimate punishment is The Cooler, a metal box which is
air-conditioned and lit, with just enough room for the offender to move
around in.

All detainees have been interrogated - some more often than others.

The manacled men are seated throughout interviews lasting from 30 minutes
to four hours and running from 9am to 9pm.

US officials insist detainees are not harmed or threatened. They even
secretly reward co-operative prisoners with a McDonald's meal from the
base's only fast-food joint.

Outside interrogations and the hour of exercise and showers each week, the
detainees just languish in their cells. General Baccus, 49, insisted that
their human rights had not been ignored although their conditions had
significantly improved since the closure of Camp X-Ray.

He said: "Remember, we believe they are very dangerous individuals who
took up arms against American servicemen and women in an attempt to do
them harm.

"Yes, the facilities in Camp Delta are a great improvement over Camp
X-Ray, from both sides of consideration."

Baccus could not say how long Guantanamo Bay would continue to hold
prisoners.

"It would be hard for me to speculate in terms of how long we'll be here,"
he said.

"But it's safe to say that I will probably have a follow-on commander here
when my tour finishes in four to six months time. Whether he will have a
follow-on commander I can't speculate."

For the detainees each day is the same. They all ask what's going to
happen to them. They all ask for lawyers. They all ask for some glimmer of
hope.

To each question the guards have only one answer: "We don't know".

And it seems that at this time nobody knows, not even the President of the
United States himself.