Detainees Are Treated Well - Perhaps Too Well

GUANTÁNAMO BAY, Cuba - Since we surely hear of every bullet and bomb in Iraq, you should know that the war on terror also is being fought daily in our own hemisphere, on this small patch of America carved out of a corner of Cuba. Behind the wire at this detention facility is a dangerous and constant battle of wills and psychology.

Every day, Joint Task Force Guantánamo oversees enemy combatants plucked from Middle East battlefields. Interrogators try to glean valuable intelligence from them; guards try to keep them compliant; doctors try to keep them healthy.

The task force is very serious about all three. Discipline and cooperation are defined along a color-coded jumpsuit system. The best-behaved detainees wear white. Their cells contain prayer rugs, extra toiletries and board games. Misbehavior earns them tan garb and fewer items. Serial mischief puts a detainee in Camp 5, where the jumpsuits are orange and the cells contain little more than a toothpaste tube labeled "Maximum Security."

Interrogations are softer than I would like. I am very pleased that we religiously accommodate the detainees (five prayer calls a day, a fresh Quran for every guest, an arrow pointing to Mecca in every cell and exercise yard) and feed them well (at our lunchtime briefing, we ate what they ate that day - chicken, rice, pita slice, salad, yogurt, orange). But as we viewed closed-circuit video of two interrogations, with the subjects sipping coffee on soft couches, the officer giving us the tour told us that this kid-gloves approach is all we do.

That's a problem. I understand that plying some terrorists with kindness will yield results. I also understand, and the Department of Defense apparently does not, that sometimes you score points by thinking outside the box. Some detainees respond to a smile and a Subway sandwich (which they apparently snarf with gusto), but others might open up after a modicum of physicality or psychological intimidation.

Those calls need to be made carefully and sparingly, but to rule them out is to be less than fully serious about protecting American lives.

This was a singular disconnect, because every other memory I take out of here is of stirring commitment and unflinching devotion to duty. Officers and enlisted ranks greet each other with a salute and a crisp "Honor bound!" - shorthand for the GTMO motto, "Honor bound to defend freedom."

And that they do, as surely as the troops risking their lives in Iraq. Every day, they face what I saw for only a fleeting moment - the faces of people who would kill Americans without pause if given the chance. Talking about terror is one thing; seeing its practitioners a few steps away is blood chilling.

As America engages the enemy within the gates of Guantánamo, they fight us by abusing guards - verbally each day and physically when they can - attempting to sneak messages out of the camp and even stooping to PR victories won with suicides.

Some would have you believe that three detainees killed themselves in June because they just couldn't take another unbearable day of captivity in U.S. hands. Poppycock. I accept the theory of task force commanding officer Adm. Harry Harris, who called it "asymmetrical warfare," a dark stunt designed to make the camp look bad.

For a moment in its history, it did look bad. The first four months of managing detainees in 2002 were not pretty. Camp X-Ray was too old, small and ill-equipped to meet the high bar set for the mission. Closed that spring, it has been replaced by a multilayered, professionally run facility that is the most scrutinized in history. It's this simple: Anyone characterizing Guantánamo as a haven for detainee mistreatment is either a fool or a liar.

I leave filled with appreciation for the daily risks that come with this tour of duty. A dedicated doctor - who has healed the wounds and sicknesses of people who would kill him with their bare hands if they could - asked me not to share his name or hometown, for fear of terrorist reprisals against his family.

For the same reason, the unfailingly upbeat active-duty men and women accompanying us on our tour performed a sobering ritual as we entered a maximum-security cellblock: They covered the names on their uniforms with tape or Velcro so that a vigilant detainee could not read a name, do a little homework and get word out for a terrorist hit against a family member.

That's war, as surely as planting a roadside IED. I am proud to make even the brief acquaintance of these fine men and women, and I am more than pleased - I would say honor bound - to defend them against malicious, ill-informed critics.