The War On Terror Keeps On Rolling

By Nick Turse, Jacobin

Madogaz Musa Abdullah still remembers the phone call. But what came next was a blur. He drove for hours, deep into the Libyan desert, speeding toward the border with Algeria. His mind buckled, his thoughts reeled, and more than three years later, he’s still not certain how he made that six-hour journey.

The call was about his younger brother, Nasser, who, as he told me, was more than a sibling to him. He was also a close friend. Nasser was polite and caring. He loved music, sang, and played the guitar. Jimi Hendrix, Carlos Santana, and Bob Marley were his favorites.

Abdullah finally found Nasser near the village of Al Awaynat. Or, rather, he found all that remained of him. Nasser and ten others from their village of Ubari had been riding in three SUVs that were now burnt-out hunks of metal. The eleven  men had been incinerated. Abdullah knew one of those charred corpses was his brother, but he was at a loss to identify which one.