DESIGNED to house the world’s most dangerous terrorists, GTMO – or Gitmo as it’s also known – is one of the strangest places on Earth.
Indelibly etched on the mind as the camp where War on Terror detainees in orange jumpsuits were held, Guantanamo Bay also has a tat-filled souvenir shop.
Last week, the infamous location was back in the news when it emerged that detainees Khalid Sheikh Mohammed (KSM) and two of his henchmen had accepted a plea bargain with US authorities.
After more than two decades in US custody, KSM, Walid bin Attash and Mustafa al-Hawsawi were ready to admit to plotting the 9/11 atrocity in exchange for being given life sentences rather than the death penalty.
Their cases had faced delays and uncertainty over claims that their “torture” by the CIA had undermined the evidence against them.
KSM alone is said to have been subjected to a record 183 rounds of waterboarding, an interrogation technique that simulates drowning.
The deal was quickly revoked by US Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin after furious protests, leaving KSM and his fellow 9/11 plotters back in legal limbo inside Guantanamo.
The detention camp, established in 2002, is a US military prison that offers serving troops a bowling alley and an O’Kelly’s Irish pub.
Recently, a drinker held up his pint for an online picture and wrote: “Tap beer! Things have improved here at GTMO.”
Eleven years ago when I visited, the camp library included well-thumbed Harry Potter books — said to be a favourite of KSM, the man alleged to be the mastermind behind 9/11.
Also available to prisoners was a copy of FourFourTwo football magazine featuring a Rio Ferdinand article and another mag which wrote about Wayne Rooney.
A guard in the library told me: “Manchester United and Tottenham are popular teams with detainees.”
Nearly 3,000 people were killed in the 9/11 terror attacks, which sparked the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq.
Terry Strada, whose husband Tom died in the North Tower of the World Trade Center, called the failed plea deal a “gut punch” and said it amounted to giving the three high-profile captives “what they want”.
So what is the camp — where hundreds were once held during America’s War on Terror — really like?
As my plane came in to land over the Caribbean in 2013, it looked like an island paradise, with a turquoise sea and stunning sandy beaches.
As we came to a halt on the runway, our air hostess announced: “Welcome to Guantanamo Bay.”
It heralded five surreal days at the 45-square-mile naval base on the southern tip of Cuba, where inhabitants include detainees in supermax detention blocks, a large detachment of US soldiers, hordes of banana rats and Godzilla-like wild iguanas.
The US has held this sliver of the island on lease ever since the 1898 Spanish–American War.
After the terror attacks on the Twin Towers and the Pentagon in 2001, US authorities realised it might come in useful.
Not only is it seemingly impossible to escape from, but US federal laws do not apply there. Usual legal process could therefore be bypassed.
On January 11, 2002, the first 23 detainees from the war in Afghanistan — where Osama bin Laden had run terror camps — were flown in.
Hooded and clad in orange jumpsuits, their hands and feet shackled, they shuffled in the stifling heat towards cage-like holding pens.
US authorities suspected them of being al-Qaeda operatives or Taliban fighters.
Photographs of them caused howls of outrage from many.
The open-air cages at so-called Camp X-ray have been compared to “dog kennels” by one former guard.
It closed after just four months, replaced by the sprawling Camp Delta, which was divided into different blocks to house detainees depending on their level of co-operation.
Under strict supervision from the US military, Sun photographer Lee Thompson and I were able to view these rusting 8ft-square wire pens, now overgrown with foliage.
On our visit in July 11 years ago, I was told the orange jumpsuits were then still foisted on prisoners who misbehaved.
In eerie silence, we were ushered into Camp 5 to witness the detainees behind bars.
Khaki-clad guards wrenched open a hefty steel door to allow us inside and, with a soft metallic thud, it closed behind us.
The block reeked of sweat and disinfectant. It took a few seconds to adjust to the dim light in the air-conditioned chill.
I recall two soldiers patrolling a gloomy, white-painted block wearing transparent face visors to protect them from hurled human faeces and urine, attacks known as “splashings”.
They peered through spy holes into darkened 8ft x 12ft cells, which each housed a solitary detainee.
Many when we visited — during the holy month of Ramadan — were ravaged by a lengthy hunger strike.
From behind the block’s bolted doors we could hear the rhythmic chanting of Ramadan prayers.
Then the inmates must have heard the shutter clicks from photographer Lee’s camera.
One angry voice bellowed in Arabic: “They torture us and don’t allow us to pray in groups.”
Another yelled in fury: “We’re here in Ramadan and the Americans have deprived us of praying as a group.”
Our military escorts quickly ushered us out into the 32C sunshine, saying the guards needed to maintain order.
Guantanamo spokesman Lieutenant Colonel Samuel House later said: “We have the utmost respect for Islam and the holy month of Ramadan. Detainees are aware of the presence of media and external visitors, and will use those opportunities to spread false messages of torture, abuse and inhumane conditions.”
Earlier, I had been shown a brutal contraption in which some hunger-weakened men were strapped, shackled and then force-fed through a tube inserted in the nose.
During my visit, captives were sufficiently malnourished to require night-time forced feedings to keep them alive. The young soldiers on duty — mostly from small-town America — were proud to serve their country.
I asked one if he had any moral dilemmas over force-feeding.
The reservist, a dad-of-two, told me: “I try not to have any personal feelings as a soldier. I do what I’m told to do. Everything I’ve seen here has met up to what I consider moral.”
I was shown inside one of the gloomy cells. Under halogen strip-lights, the tiny space had a concrete bunk built into the wall, a fixed steel toilet and a concrete chair.
I was also taken to Camp Six, which at the time housed the more compliant prisoners.
Through thick glass, we watched around a dozen bearded men in white smocks worshipping together.
We were told to remain silent by our military escorts, and the detainees apparently had no idea we were there.
When I asked why we could not speak to them, my military handler told me: “This isn’t a petting zoo.”
On the far side of a dusty ridge behind the camp is the other Guantanamo, where tanned military personnel enjoy all the comforts of small-town America in a separate portion of the naval base.
Driving along streets of wood-panelled houses with neat gardens, we passed a McDonald’s drive-thru.
The food is rated highly on social media. Big Macs have even been used as an inducement to talk during the interrogation of alleged jihadis up the road.
The base also has a bowling alley, football field, golf course and a paintball range, Ground Zero.
The outdoor cinema was screening zombie apocalypse movie World War Z and thriller White House Down at the time of our visit.
A gift shop was selling Guantanamo shot glasses, snow shakers, mugs, cuddly iguana toys and a penknife with GTMO engraved on the handle.
There were also children’s Guantanamo T-shirts with a skull and crossbones motif, and others proclaiming Gitmo a “paradise”. The souvenir joint is still doing brisk business as the 23rd anniversary of 9/11 approaches.
Yet President Obama had pledged to close the Guantanamo detention camp within a year of taking office.
At least 780 people from 48 countries have been held at the camp since it opened, but just 16 have been charged with criminal offences.
Today, only 30 remain in custody, including KSM.
After my five days here, I was keen to leave both the supermax Guantanamo and the tacky facsimile of America outside its austere walls.
Meanwhile Khalid Sheikh Mohammed — the man accused of plotting history’s worst terror outrage — will likely see out his days in this razor wire purgatory.
