Asked about the nature of his treatment by Pakistani police, and by Americans at Bagram and Guantánamo, Adam becomes vague. When pressed, he recalls the constant light and noise that deprived him of sleep, beatings, tear gas, pepper spray, attack dogs, the desecration of the Koran, and the "degrading" personal searches in which he was forced to expose himself in front of other men.

"Most of the soldiers there, I doubted they could be from a great nation," Adam says. But sometimes he would meet an educated soldier, who would "deal with us quietly, kindly," until that soldier would be ordered to "change his style of treatment."

And there was the interrogator who, one day, started bringing Adam books from his own collection, books on European history and Western civilization, saying, "I can see you have the mind of a scholar."

Such glimpses of kindness were a source of hope for Adam, but these were overshadowed by the senselessness of his captivity. Adam later found out that US Army judges had decided to release him on Oct. 21, 2005, a decision that would not be carried out until Dec. 11, 2007.

Today, Adam is looking for work in a Sudan he doesn't recognize, seeking a reunion with his Pakistani wife and three children, still living in Peshawar. One daughter, 5-year-old Amina, was born after he was captured and has never seen her father.

Adam and Hamad both say that they hold no grudge against the American people, but want to be sure that Guantánamo and other military detention centers are shut down.

"We know that American society is a good society," Hamad says. "Our religion teaches us to treat those well who treat us badly."

•Leigh Montgomery in Boston contributed to this report

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