...They would then start kicking our ankles to spread wider and further from the wall until eventually we'd fall. Then kicks to the body would follow. I was always the last and it was on the other side of my cell wall that this took place. I'd often watch naked crying men and boys crawl in front of my cell to get back to their [cells]. The sickest MP was a man named Murphy and I could pick him out of a line-up any day. He visits me many nights in my nightmares. They could only keep you in there for 21 days, I believe because of the starvation rations. Then they'd put you in administrative segregation for 3 days and even give you seconds. I'd get my clothes and giggs back, but then it was another 21 days of [being] back in hell. I did 3 trips through it. Each week a shrink would come in to talk to you for a few minutes but we had to have our shirts on to cover the bruises and marks. Nobody was crazy enough to tell him what happened at night.

I've struggled and have tried to get help with the PTSD, depression and things that go along with it, but no matter what I do I can't make the nightmares end. I've been turned down for service connected disability because I can't prove the event took place. There was a no talking policy in there so I have no idea who the other prisoners were. If anyone has an idea how I might find some of these other survivors..please help me?

[See also When Torture Was Practiced on U.S. Soil.]