Soldiers held as prisoners of war tell of lack of resources and loyalty among pro-government forces The six barefooted men trooped into the school library, their faces uneasy and downcast. Not so long ago this room, with its Arabic texts and Webster’s dictionary, was for studious children. Now it is home to prisoners of war. Wearing T-shirts and loose trousers, and aware their words could be heard by rebel guards, the men sat at a long table to tell how they came to fight for a man they little care for in a war they barely understand. Some said they were promised an escape from poverty if they fought for Muammar Gaddafi, but never saw the cash. Some, thrown into the frontline with no military experience, suggested that Gaddafi’s forces were running short on resources and morale. Aged between 17 and 47, all said they surrendered meekly a week ago when Gaddafi’s army was forced to retreat from a village in Libya’s western mountains. They are detained in the rebel stronghold of Zintan at a school converted into a makeshift prison which now houses 147 inmates – of whom 25 are foreign nationals, officials say. The six men were black and said they all had roots in neighbouring Mali and Niger, although some had been born in Libya and had Libyan citizenship. They did not conform to widespread reports of mercenaries travelling from abroad specifically to serve the regime. Many were recruited from the southern Libyan city of Sabha, a Gaddafi stronghold. The youngest was Issa Yousef, 17, a student and steelworker of Malian origin who joined a month ago. Speaking through an interpreter, he said: “They said we’ll give you money when this attack has finished: 1,000 dinars (£500) a month and Libyan citizenship.” He never saw either. One night last week the group was sent to the village of Qawalish, about 60 miles south of Tripoli, to face the increasingly confident rebels of the western mountains. They said they joined around 200 government troops and were armed with Kalashnikovs. But they claimed that, because of their race, they were treated differently and denied other equipment. When rebels launched a surprise attack on the village the following morning, the men were lost in the confusion. “We didn’t know who is Gaddafi army and who is revolutionary,” one said. They said they gave up their Kalashnikovs without a fight. They had been well treated by their captors, they added, although it was impossible to verify this independently. Gaddafi’s forces have been losing ground in the Nafusa mountains in recent weeks. The six inmates painted a picture of decay and desperation as rebel offensives and Nato bombing take their toll. “Gaddafi’s army is weak,” said Hassan Mohamed, 25, of Nigerian descent. “They don’t have equipment or a lot of money. After seven months they still didn’t pay me. Most soldiers have deserted, some escaped, some left, some stayed. It’s so bad.” None expressed passion for the cause or a desire to return. Mohammad Ismail Al-Amin, 47, a Libyan citizen of Malian origin, said: “Now I like the revolution because all the world is with it. I regret joining Gaddafi. I left my children.” Mohammad Abdou Al-Rahman, 22, said: “I like the revolution but I don’t hate Muammar Gaddafi. I don’t feel anything about him.” The prisoners sleep on mats on a crowded floor in what used to be classrooms, the doors of which have been reinforced with concrete and steel, watched over by four armed guards. The bright colours of children’s posters are still visible on adjacent walls. The prison is led by Bashir Milad, 45, who was an art teacher and taxi driver before the uprising. He operates from a headteacher’s office still furnished with framed certificates and photos, a wall clock, a world map and a cabinet containing books and packets of A4 paper. On his desk is a box file, hole punch, in-trays, a pencil sharpener, pen holder, stapler and mug containing pens. The newest detainee is Ahmed Brahim, 22, previously a painter and decorator. He was captured on Wednesday after the rebels lost the village of Qawalish only to retake it a few hours later – an exchange which underlines the difficulties they face in advancing towards Gharyan and Tripoli itself. “Some escaped, some surrendered like me,” said Brahim, who had dried blood on his left ear, cheek and T-shirt, which he claimed was the result of a bathroom accident in the prison. “When I saw the revolutionaries coming towards me I handed over my Kalashnikov.” He would not fight for Gaddafi again, he added. “If I was released, I would stay with the revolution here. I will not go back. Here everything is good.” But Brahim said the rebels would struggle to take Gharyan, a crucial gateway to Tripoli, as Gaddafi’s forces had numerous troops and heavy weapons there. “Gaddafi’s army is strong enough to defend Gharyan,” he said, adding of the soldiers: “They will defend. They’re not leaving.” Another prisoner, a 38-year-old who did not wish to be named, was equally unenthusiastic. “I want to be safe now,” he said. “I don’t care whether Gaddafi stays or goes. There are a lot of people in the army who feel like me. Some still want to fight, some no.” The man, an army major who has been imprisoned for 78 days, added: “I don’t think Gaddafi’s army is strong enough to defend Tripoli. They lost weapons and control. They are losing the will to fight every day. The revolution is strong.” Libya Muammar Gaddafi Arab and Middle East unrest Middle East Africa David Smith guardian.co.uk