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A long row of vehicles - loaded lorries, crowded buses, vintage Morris Minors, Austins, three wheelers - form over a kilometer long queue outside the red and white barrier.

A "Tamil Eelam" policeman in blue uniform directs arriving vehicles to join the orderly queue. On one side of the barrier lay a bunker secured by coconut trunks. It is empty. On the other side, beneath the shade of a large tree, sit men and women behind small desks.

They examine documents of drivers, verify identities of passengers and interview first time visitors. It is only thereafter the barrier is lifted to allow them to continue their journey.

After a near two-hour drive on a road marked with not only pot holes, but large craters that could bury a couple of motor cycles, from the Paranthan Junction at Alpha Nine (A-9) highway, we have arrived at Puthukudiyiruppu. It is now a highly secured gateway to Mullaitivu, the villages in its environs and the north eastern seas.

My escort and companion, Daya Master, points the Icom communications set in his hand, to direct me to take the right lane of the road, thus avoiding the long line of traffic. Near the barrier, we are stopped by another uniformed policeman. He identifies Daya Master and we are cleared to proceed.

A bullet riddled nameboard reads "Puthukudiyiruppu" as we drive past. Barely a kilometer along the rugged, dusty road, we arrive at the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) Political Office. With a large lawn (also serving as a parade ground), the complex is much bigger than the head office of the Political section in Kilinochchi. On a flag post, the LTTE flag flutters in the strong but cooling wind. Across a gravel road, the office extends to other buildings.

The captives enjoying LTTE hospitality

Empty oil barrels, some left behind by the Security Forces, have been flattened and put to good use. They form the walls of the complex. Empty artillery shells have also found a use. They are planted with the firing side up to secure well manicured gardens.

Having registered our presence there, we move out for other engagements and return to lunch at this office. It is served in the conference room. The walls are adorned with pictures of LTTE leader Velupillai Prabhakaran and maps of "Tamil Eelam." The fare and service could match any five star hotel in Colombo.

With that over, Daya Master escorts me across the road to the buildings that lay opposite the main office. As I walk behind him and pass the gates to a large garden with Jak and Mango trees, I see a group of well dressed men seated in a circle in fibre glass chairs. They are in animated conversation. They keep munching cakes, koli kuttu plantains, chocolate biscuits or vadai from paper plates they hold.

I suspect this is a meeting of political leaders in the area and try to follow Daya Master into a building. He stops me and points his finger at the crowd. "They are there. Go ahead and talk to them," he says as he walks into the building. We then share cups of tea.

All that remains of what was once a Czech built T-55 main battle tank. It was destroyed when Tiger guerrills attacked the Pooneryn defence complex and the neighbouring Nagathevanthurai Naval facility on November 28, 1993. Only the heavy and bigger parts of the wreckage remains. Other pieces have been removed from the area by iron traders from Vavuniya. This picture was taken last week by cameraman Alfred Silva.

I soon learn these men are the prisoners of war the LTTE is now holding. I shake hands with all of them.

The senior-most is Commander Sarath Kumara Boyagoda of the Sri Lanka Navy. He fell captive to the LTTE on September 20, 1994. He was commanding officer of SLNS "Sagarawardena," the largest warship that the Sri Lanka Navy had at that time.

This warship, 40 metres long and weighing 330 tons had left Colombo on September 16, 1994, on its regular surveillance mission. It came under Tiger guerrilla attack around 11.50 pm on September 19, 1994 on the high seas off west of Udayadi in Mannar. Two guerrilla boats laden with explosives and escorted by a flotilla of other boats rammed the ship. Commander Boyagoda fell into guerrilla hands. For seven years he has remained in guerrilla custody.

At pre dawn on November 11, 1993, some 600 Tiger guerrillas, both men and women, over-ran the Naval Base at Nagathevanthurai and the adjoining Army camp at Pooneryn during "Operation Thavalai" (a frog). it has been so named since the assault was amphibious. When the two-day siege ended, more than 400 soldiers were killed and an estimated Rs 250 million worth of military hardware was lost. The scars of these battles are still evident. The remnants of a destroyed T-55 Czech built main Battle Tank still remain in the one time battle zone at Pooneryn. Scrap metal dealers from Vavuniya have removed whatever they could. The bigger pieces lay strewn.

Six soldiers fell into the hands of Tiger guerrillas - S.H. Gunawardena - 29 years - (Third Battalion, Gajaba Regiment), U.S.R. Jayakumar - 31 years - (Third Battalion Gajaba), P.B. Navindra Jayalath - 31 years - (First Battalion, Sri Lanka Light Infantry), T.P. Gamini - 27 years - (Third Battalion, Gajaba Regiment), I.D. Nimal Dissanayake - 29 years - (First Battalion, Sri Lanka Light Infantry) and M.D. Sisira - 27 years - (Third Battalion, Gajaba Regiment). The six soldiers have remained prisoners for over eight years.

They are now located somewhere in the Puthukudiyiruppu area. This is the sixth location but they are happier now since some of the tough restrictions on them have been relaxed. Upon capture, they were first located in Nallur (near Pooneryn). Those were very difficult times. They were all chained together. From there, as the guerrillas fought many a battle with the Security Forces, they were shifted around from place to place. From Nallur it was to Kodikamam, Mirisuvil, Periyamadu and Manthikai. It was thereafter they came to Puthukudiyiruppu.

"We listen to radio. We read Sunday newspapers. We hear so much talk about what successive Governments were doing for Ranaviru (soldiers). Most of it is for the next of kin of soldiers who have been killed in action. There is also those wounded. What of us? No one has cared in the past eight years," says Commander Boyagoda. "We were also in the forefront to safeguard the sovereignty and territorial integrity of our motherland. Why have we been forgotten?" he asked.

Tears welled into his eyes as he said, "some politicians even went to the extent of saying that I had sold fuel to the LTTE. Some made wild allegations that I was training their (LTTE) people. If that is so, why should I remain a prisoner?"

He added, "Once we were on a hunger strike. My wife met a politician to muster support for our release. He told her this is not the time to speak on such matters."

Commander Boyagoda said this was the gift he had received for serving the Navy and the nation.

"Being held prisoner for seven long years, cut away from the family and from my job as a Navy officer, I have had sleepless nights thinking of the wild things they say. They called all of us traitors. Is fighting for the motherland treachery?" Commander Boyagoda asked as he fought to contain his emotions. He said his children were being ostracized at school. "My son was just over two years when I was captured. I saw him last week when the ICRC (International Committee of the Red Cross) arranged the first ever family visit here. That was the first occasion in long years I heard my son call me 'Appachchi' (dad)," he pointed out.

Born on April 8, 1954, Commander Boyagoda joined the Navy on September 1974. He was commissioned as a Captain on March 8, 1997.

Soldier Gunawardena had a more harrowing tale to relate. He met his mother for the first time in nearly eight years only last week during the ICRC arranged family visit. "What she said shattered me. After the November, 1993, incidents in Pooneryn, an urn containing ashes said to be after my body was cremated, was handed over to her. She held a funeral ceremony and there the ashes were interred. I was taken for dead. It was only three months later that she got to know that I was among the living. I will never forget this," he said. Soldier Dissanayake said he would propose that I bring their plight to the attention of Prime Minister Ranil Wickremesinghe, through The Sunday Times. All others shouted in unison "ou, ou" (yes, yes). "If the serving troops know they are not cared for when taken prisoner, will they want to come forward to fight?," asked soldier Dissanayake. Added soldier Jayakumar, "Imagine how our parents and relatives feel about this. Nobody cares."

Soldier Jayalath said, "If they can sign a Ceasefire Agreement, lift restrictions on movement of goods including pen torch batteries and barbed wire, why cannot anyone think of having us released? Is it because they have no use for us now?"

"We were not Pol Horas (coconut thieves) or Genu Horas (abductors of women). We have served the country and risked our lives," interjected Commander Boyagoda. "My mother died in July, this year. I could not bear the pain of mind thinking of her," said Jayakumar.

The eighth prisoner, D. K. Hemapala - 45 years - (Third Battalion Gajaba Regiment) collapsed and died on July 22, last year. All prisoners were full of praise for the ICRC. Their quality of life, they say, changed since 1998 due to the intervention of the ICRC. Their delegates were helping them obtain regular food packages from the next of kin and were even making available cigarettes. The family visit had also been arranged by the ICRC.

The LTTE man placed in charge of the prisoners, Newton, also came in for praise. "He shows us video programmes regularly. He even allows us to cook our own meals using provisions we receive from our homes," said Commander Boyagoda. "We are living together and try hard to keep our morale up," he pointed out.

I asked Commander Boyagoda about a letter he wrote to a Navy colleague three years ago about eating pittu and brinjal curry daily. "Yes, I may have eaten a few tons of pittu and a few acres of brinjals. But things are very much better now," he said. He and the six soldiers are badly in need of a solar panel or rechargeable batteries to power their radios. He says they would appreciate if any well-wisher could channel them via the ICRC.

I learnt from a senior LTTE official that they were "ever willing" to negotiate the release of the seven prisoners.

"Of course, that would have to be in exchange for our own men held in Sri Lankan jails. The initiative lies in the hands of the Government," he said. Asked whether there has been any soundings so far, he replied "nothing until now."

I also learnt that contrary to claims in Colombo, the LTTE is not holding any other prisoners in its custody, leave alone large numbers. Since the launch of Operation Riviresa in 1995, which led to logistical problems, the guerrillas had to relocate themselves. Hence moving with the prisoners and looking after them became a problem.

"There are people in Colombo who are trying to feather their own nests by claiming the LTTE has 2,000 prisoners. They want to form NGOs to raise money. The Government should be wary about people who are trying to profit personally for their own gain," warned Commander Boyagoda. Unless the Government seizes the opportunity of the current peace process to seek the release of the seven men in guerrilla custody, the message it gives to other members of the Security Forces is a grim one.

Fight during a war to save the motherland but no one would care if you are caught prisoner.

This thought should arouse the conscience of a nation, not just the relatives of those in custody.

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