Guantanamo’s final days
My bs meter is twitching…
“When the gunfire finally stops, five soldiers charge into the compound. They find two Al-Qaeda fighters under the rubble, their bodies badly burned and cloaked in dust. One has two gunshot wounds in his chest; he wears a pistol in a holster, and an AK-47 lies by his side.
Then a moaning sound comes from the back of the compound. The dust stirs, obscuring a child-size body. One of the Americans fires two rounds into the figure.
When the soldiers approach, they can see this is no hardened Al-Qaeda foot soldier. His face is soft and free of stubble. His wrists are thin and his knees bony. No more than a boy, he is covered in soot and bleeding from shrapnel lodged in his chest. Two bullets have pierced his back.
After two American medics work to revive him, he moves his arms and legs and then looks up. “Kill me,” he whispers in English. “Please kill me.”
The soldiers refuse.”