Molly Crabapple returns to where American locks up the the war on terror's inconvenient prisoners, a place where "self-satisfaction extends up the chain of command." (Previously)
The guards spoke in cliches. Working in prison was "doing the mission." Thinking about the prison's meaning was "not in my lane." They claimed to have been told nothing of the imprisoned men. During pre-Gitmo briefings, guards listened to the 911 calls of New Yorkers who burned alive in the Trade Center.
Guards work 12 hours a day, with two more spent on mandatory group exercise. After that, there's little time for anything but sleep. They're surrounded by posters telling them to watch their calories and check their spiritual health. That they are on the battlefield. That the enemy is watching. They are just like the guys fighting in Afghanistan.
