As Guantánamo remains open and the Endless War continues -- and no one is held accountable -- there is no ending to the stories of Lakhdar Boumediene and Mustafa Ait Idir, just an open wound. (Photo: Witness Against Torture)ROBERT C. KOEHLER FOR BUZZFLASH AT TRUTHOUT

To read Witnesses of the Unseen: Seven Years in Guantánamo is to run your mind along the contours of hell.

The next step, if you're an American, is to embrace it. Claim it. This is who we are: We are the proprietors of a cluster of human cages. This torture center is still open. Men ("forever prisoners") are still being held there, their imprisonment purporting to keep us safe.

The book, by Lakhdar Boumediene and Mustafa Ait Idir -- two Algerian men arrested in Bosnia in 2011 and wrongly accused of being terrorists -- allows us to imagine ourselves at Guantánamo, this outpost of the Endless War.

"'Take him outside,' the interrogator told them. They led me up a flight of eight or nine concrete steps to a long gravel drive. It was pitch black out, and completely quiet. There was no one around. One of the soldiers grabbed my left arm, and another took my right. And then they started running.

"I tried to keep up, but my legs were shackled together. First, my flip-flops fell off, and after a few barefoot strides, my legs fell out from under me. The soldiers didn't even slow down. They kept a firm grip on my arms while my legs bounced and scraped along the ground, gravel biting into them. When the run finally ended, the soldiers brought me back to the interrogation room, bloody and bedraggled."

This is one fragment, one story of the seven years these two innocent men endured: these two fathers who were pulled away from their wives and children, yanked from their lives, stuffed into cages, interrogated endlessly and pointlessly, humiliated, force-fed (in Lakhdar's case) . . . and finally, finally, ordered by a US judge to be freed, when their case, Boumediene v. Bush, was at long last heard in a real court and the lack of evidence against them became appallingly clear.

The book is the story of the courage it takes to survive.

And it's a story that can only be told because of the work of the Boston legal firm WilmerHale, which spent more than 17,000 pro bono hours litigating the case, "work that would have cost paying clients more than $35 million."

Lakhdar and Mustafa were freed in 2008 and began rebuilding their lives. They eventually decided they wanted to tell their story -- to an American audience. Daniel Norland, who was a lawyer at WilmerHale when the case was making its way through the court process (but was not part of the litigation team) and his sister, Kathleen List, who speaks fluent Arabic, conducted more than 100 hours of interviews with the two men, which were shaped into Witnesses of the Unseen.

In October 2011, the two men, who were living and working in Sarajevo, were among six Algerians who wound up being arrested by Bosnian authorities and charged with plotting to blow up the American embassy in Sarajevo. They were held for three months, then released. There was no evidence to back up the accusation.

But this turns out to be the beginning of their story, not the end of it. The men were released not back to their own lives but to an authority more powerful than the Bosnian judicial system: They were released to the Americans, who had begun rounding up Muslims . . . uh, terrorists. Evidence, or lack thereof, didn't matter. These men were shipped to a new military prison, built at the Guantánamo Bay Naval Base in Cuba -- an offshore prison, in other words, unencumbered by the US Constitution. The detainees there allegedly had zero rights. That was the whole point.

Much of what Lakhdar and Mustafa describe is the efficiency of the US military in dehumanizing its prisoners. The beatings and physical pain inflicted by guards, interrogators and even medical personnel were only part of it. The men also endured sexual humiliation, endless mocking of their religion -- "I heard . . . that a soldier went into someone's cell and flushed his Qur'an down the toilet" -- and the cruel, teasing "misplacement" or censorship of letters from the prisoners' loved ones.

Several years into his imprisonment, Lakhdar went on a hunger strike, which meant he was subjected to force-feeding, which the U.N. Human Rights Commission has called a form of torture:

"The soldier brought out an apparatus with a long yellow tube and started measuring out the length of tube he needed. He stopped when he got to a marking somewhere between 45 and 50 inches. That was the amount of tube he was going to insert through my nostril. . . .

"It's almost impossible to explain what a feeding tube feels like to someone who hasn't experienced it. I felt like I was choking, and being strangled, and yet somehow still able to breathe, all at the same time.

"The soldier taped the tube in place. I could see the Ensure trickling through the tube, one droplet at a time. It felt cold as it reached my stomach. I later learned that a full feeding normally takes fifteen to twenty minutes, but that first time they went exceptionally slowly. I sat in the clinic, chained to the chair, a tube protruding down my throat, for the rest of the afternoon and all through the night."

It took no less than a Supreme Court ruling to start ending this nightmare.

In early 2007, a US Circuit Court judge had refused to hear Boumediene v. Bush on the grounds that Guantánamo prisoners had no Constitutional rights. But the Supreme Court agreed to hear an appeal, and in June 2008 ruled that Guantánamo counted as part of the US and, as Justice Anthony Kennedy wrote, the government couldn't "switch the Constitution on and off at will."

Thus the case went back to the Circuit Court and a real hearing got underway, leading to one of the most appalling revelations in the book: "Our lawyers had told us, in the days leading up to our trial, about a recent bizarre development in our case: the government had dropped its allegation that we had plotted to blow up the US Embassy in Sarajevo. Just like in Bosnia seven years before, authorities were eager to toss around bomb-plot allegations right up until a court required them to provide evidence.

"Instead, our lawyers told us, the government now said that the reason it considered us 'enemy combatants' was that it had evidence -- classified evidence that I wasn't allowed to see -- that we had made a plan to fly to Afghanistan and join Al Qaeda's fight against American forces there. This was the first time I had ever heard this allegation. No one -- no police officer, no Bosnian official, no American interrogator -- had ever asked me a single question about it.

"And it was a ludicrous allegation. . . ."

And the judge ruled in their favor and they eventually were set free, to reclaim their lives, to see their children for the first time in seven years -- and to give their story to the world.

But as long as Gitmo remains open and the Endless War continues -- and no one is held accountable -- there is no ending to this story, just an open wound.

Robert Koehler is an award-winning, Chicago-based journalist and nationally syndicated writer. His book, Courage Grows Strong at the Wound is available. Contact him at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. or visit his website at commonwonders.com.

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