“In the summer of 2004, a young jihadist in shackles and chains was walked by his captors slowly into the Camp Bucca prison in southern Iraq. He was nervous as two American soldiers led him through three brightly-lit buildings and then a maze of wire corridors, into an open yard, where men with middle-distance stares, wearing brightly-coloured prison uniforms, stood back warily, watching him.
â€œI knew some of them straight away,â€ he told me last month. â€œI had feared Bucca all the way down on the plane. But when I got there, it was much better than I thought. In every way.â€” so begins Martin Chulovs excellent piece on how Daesh as born.Â