On May 18, 2006, prisoners in Camp Four staged mock suicides and then locked guards in their cells and overpowered them with handmade weapons.

The prisoners always hurl this mix at the guards through bars and door openings. The statistics from the Guantanamo prison management show that between July 2004 and August 2006, this has happened more than 430 times.

This does not seem to bother the 19 year-old African American, who only lets himself be known as “Master-at-Arms,” as discipliner. “I’m here to do my job,” he says coolly. “That is the game. They want me to get upset and demean myself. But I don’t play along.”

An unpleasant job

On this morning, there is ample provocation. One of the internees shows him with clear gestures that he would cut his throat — if only he ever gets his hands on him. That is hard to take for a young man who was still a child just a few years ago.

Inevitably, one builds up an inner armor. “I’m a tough guy,” says my 19-year-old interlocutor. While his eyes looked fixed, he repeats: “That is my job.” He pauses. “I didn’t expect anything else here.”

Under control

The tall young man is proud to have everything under control — despite his damned unpleasant job. He has to watch people whom his country has deemed to be the most dangerous criminals on earth.

The others continue to be imprisoned on an “open ended” basis. The very notion can become hell. So much so that one begins to throw feces at some point.

Rebels, terrorists, “enemy combatants” who are not good enough for the status of prisoners of war as put forth in the Geneva Conventions. And all of this in the most controversial prison in the world: Guantanamo Bay.

The United States has been operating this internment camp from the Cuban naval base since January of 2002. Currently, 440 alleged terrorists are in detention there, an additional 335 have passed through — and were either released or transferred to their home countries.

Most dangerous criminals

The 14 most-prominent prisoners — among them the mastermind of the attacks of September 11, Khalid Sheikh Mohammed — were relocated from CIA secret prisons overseas to Guantanamo in September. They are the newest entrants since 2004.

“A year ago, the situation in the camp was more relaxed,” says Rob Kirsch, a lawyer from Boston representing six Bosnians who have been held in Guantanamo since 2002.

"Open ended" imprisonment

In an attempt to defuse tensions, a couple of changes were introduced: more food, easier access to the Koran and the formation of a council. That produced at least modest success, such as bringing about the end of a long hunger strike — a small bit

And if they are not fighting, then the two cultures that are locked together on this unbearably hot and humid patch of land — 45 square miles in size — often just stare at each other blankly.

of trust created in a place where everyone distrusts each other.

Still, none of these acts eliminates the basic problem of Guantanamo: that nearly all of the prisoners sit in their cells without being charged, much less convicted.

So far legal actions have been brought against only ten of the prisoners. Ten out of 440. The others continue to be imprisoned on an “open ended” basis. The very notion can become hell. So much so that one begins to throw feces at some point. If there is nothing to win, there is nothing to lose.

Nothing to lose

Or one goes all out like on May 18, 2006. That day, prisoners in Camp Four staged mock suicides and then locked guards in their cells and overpowered them with handmade weapons.

Worse, it all happened in the part of the prison reserved for prisoners who cooperate the best. The action created a shockwave that was only outdone by the three real suicides at the end of June.

Tighter security

Already after the incidents in May, the plans for the new $37.8 million construction of Camp Six were thoroughly reworked. At the end of September, Camp Six was consigned to Joint Task Force Guantanamo two months later than planned — and with more constraints.

In an attempt to defuse tensions, a couple of changes were introduced: more food, easier access to the Koran and the formation of a council.

Rather than just hip height areas along the corridors in front of the 176 cells, there is now roof-high chicken wire. Rather than showers being open on top, they are now closed tightly.

And instead of an open area for one or two hours of fresh air in the yard, the future inmates in Camp Six will have to run their laps in three-by-six meter cubicles. Nothing is left to chance any more, so that no prisoner bolts over the railing.

A war inside prison

“An act of asymmetric warfare” is what Joint Task Force Commander Admiral Harry Harris later called the suicides. Harris’ choice words produced a worldwide outcry because he sounded as if war was still going on in Guantanamo.

As if Marines — now in Gitmo — were still fighting the Taliban. Apparently, in their own minds, they still do.

Two cultures

And if they are not fighting, then the two cultures that are locked together on this unbearably hot and humid patch of land — 45 square miles in size — often just stare at each other blankly.

Instead of an open area for one or two hours of fresh air in the yard, the future inmates in Camp Six will have to run their laps in three-by-six meter cubicles.

Like the man dressed in a white prisoner’s uniform who is brought before the court at exactly 1:30 pm. He sits in front of a panel, which in reality is no court.

Rather, the Administrative Review Board (ARB) only looks like one — one whose opinion may decide fates over the issue of whether a particular prisoner should, with good reason, continue to be viewed as a danger to the United States and the world.

Not much of a court

It consists of one chairman and two assessors, an interpreter, an advisor for the prisoner, a court reporter and a kind of attorney.

When the chairman enters the room and takes his place in front of the Stars and Stripes, the attendants stand. Then, the “judge” and the defendant look each other in the eyes at a distance of three meters.

Peaceful interactions

It goes quite politely and respectfully. The chairman often says “thanks,” and the bearded prisoner — we will just call him A. — nods back. Once again, the charges against A are read out: Whether he was involved in jihad, educated in an Al Qaeda camp, whether he was trained to use specific weapons and against whom he fought.

A.’s answers come in a precise, quiet voice and are accompanied, as much as the handcuffs allow, by soft gestures. Sometimes, he is cooperative — and sometimes he argues. His answers sound plausible, but are they true? “In the end, it is a question of faith,” says Marine Captain Phillip Waddingham, who coordinates the work of the Review Board.