Abu Ghraib is less imposing from this vantage point. Close up, the scarred walls and ramshackle fortifications reveal how precariously this once colossal symbol of might clings to life. The convoy speeds along the southern perimeter wall, flanked on the right by the main highway—IED alley, as it was called in its glory days when it bristled with improvised explosive devices. Turning left, the Humvees drive through the prison’s main gate. During the U.S. occupation, it was guarded by tanks and Bradley armoured vehicles; today, only a few sleepy Iraqi soldiers man it, waving through the convoy as if it has disturbed what was otherwise a routine day of smoking and lounging.
Inside, the prison grounds are deserted, and as dilapidated as the outer perimeter wall. The convoy edges around another fortified compound. “Inside there was where the American soldiers stayed,” says the Iraqi officer. “There was also a command centre in there, and Camp Vigilant.” That command centre was the 320th Tactical Operations Center (TOC), where members of the 320th Military Police Battalion, a reservist unit disgraced during the scandal, had its offices. Next to that were the barracks, beyond which was Camp Vigilant, where high security detainees were held.
The officer tells his driver to stop at a break on the west side of the perimeter wall. Stepping over a coil of razor wire, he walks into the compound, dominated by what look like two large warehouses. A lizard maniacally scrambles up one of the coils, trying to stay out of the officer’s path, then jumps to the ground and scurries under dust-coated desert scrub. The officer points to the bigger building on the right, indicating that this was the barracks, and disappears inside.
It is a scene of total devastation. The cavernous barrack, large enough to accommodate three 747 airliners, has been completely gutted by fire. Concrete pillars rise up like blackened monuments; charred bedsprings and bunk-bed frames litter the floor. Some remnants of the U.S. presence remain: partially melted plastic military-issue meal packs and the odd singed American cigarette box, indicating that the fire wasn’t all-consuming. It seems to have been controlled, possibly deliberate.
But who set the fire? According to the Iraqi officers and his men, it was American troops themselves, before they turned the prison over to Iraqi authorities. Why? “Who knows?” the officer says. “Who knows how these people think?” But then he offers a possible explanation: “When I heard our government was not going to put any of the American atrocities in the museum, I thought maybe they’re trying to erase that memory. I think the U.S. is trying to do the same thing.”
As George W. Bush’s term in office comes to a close, part of the legacy he leaves behind—torture, rendition, Guantánamo Bay and Abu Ghraib—will likely haunt discussion of his presidency for years to come. Many Iraqis will likely be haunted as well—by memories of what went on behind Abu Ghraib’s imposing walls. Renovations and a museum may not be enough to cleanse Abu Ghraib of its demons.
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