Eyewitness report: One victim of Iraqi torture tells his story to Jack Fairweather in Basra
Iraq's militia men and Baath Party members may have hidden or fled from Basra but yesterday the legacy of fear and hatred they left behind was beginning to emerge.
Crowds of Iraqis had gathered on the streets outside British positions to welcome them into the city, jostling with each other to wave white flags and offer the only thing they seem have in abundance: ripe tomatoes.
But for Hashim Hamin, taking part in chaotic celebrations outside the Iraqi Naval Academy, the arrival of the British has come simply as a relief.
He stood out among the throng of young men with his gaunt and wrinkled features.
"I have come to help the British catch every single Baath Party member," he said vehemently.
For five years Hashim, a teacher of English at a local secondary school, was held in an Iraqi prison and tortured. His scarred arms bore witness to how, he said, he was strung from the ceiling and beaten by members of the Iraqi secret services.
"I had refused to join the party. They hit me a great deal and I was made to eat my meals like a dog with my hands tied behind my back. But I knew I could never join the Baath Party. How could I and keep my conscience clean?" he said.
"If you want to stay out of trouble you have to join, and then you could be promoted in the party from the street level to representing the city. But then take part in beatings and the burning of property of the people they don't like. I was one of the people they didn't like."
There was a particular reason why Hashim had gone to the Naval Academy.
"They stopped beating me after the first year but then every so often they would take me to the academy and attach electricity to my groin. The people who did this were young officers that Saddam liked."
Within the marble academy conference centre, one of the few displays of wealth in an other-wise destitute city, it was possible to imagine the upcoming stars of the Baathist regime discussing naval battles under the bright lights of the chandeliers before entering underground vaults to torture people like Hashim.
The small offices built around the centre, though, are disturbingly homely.
Beneath a giant plaque reading "one Arab nation with one immortal message", a bouquet of plastic flowers sat on a desk with a hand-written card: "See you next summer in Lebanon, from your beloved."
Among the items saved from looters by British soldiers of Z company of the Royal Fusiliers was a sextant in a glass case, built in London in 1945, and a brochure entitled "60 years of the Iraqi armed forces: 1921-1981".
Inside the booklet were pictures of smiling officers training in gyms and pointing weapons in different directions. "Watching vital targets with alertness and surveillance," the caption read.
"That was when they were at their peak, before all this began," said Maj Duncan McSporran, standing in a room with a lurid coloured map of the Middle East, showing Iraq ruling the region before a row of seats with microphones.
"You could just imagine Saddam sitting in the chair over there, and pressing a button to send the officers he didn't like plummeting to their deaths in pits below the seats," said Maj McSporran.
"We haven't found any torture chambers under here yet," he said. "But all you need is a pair of electrodes to inflict real damage." Outside the compound, Hashim was adamant. "You must help me find the people who tortured me," he said.
Beside him, an Iraqi man offered three fried tomatoes to a soldier standing outside.
"No thanks," said the soldier, "better not. I've got a dickey stomach." Hashim said: "Please take it as a gift from us. You will need all your strength to aid us."
Hashim then returned to the crowd because, he said, he could see a secret policeman under cover writing down people's names. Although British soldiers tried to arrest the man, he, like Hashim, had soon disappeared into the crowd.