The arrival of hundreds of terror suspects at this remote US naval outpost in the Caribbean not only lifted it from obscurity but produced a population boom and a flood of things to keep its new residents happy -- a miniature golf course, Starbucks coffee, a go-kart track and music concerts.
The non-detainee population at Guantanamo has surged from about 2,600 to about 9,500 since the military brought the first prisoners captured in the US-led war against Afghanistan here three years ago. Overnight, a base that had been little more than a sleepy refueling stop for ships gained worldwide fame.
The base's administrators shifted gears quickly from tearing down structures to renovating and building new ones in a rush to provide an adequate working and living quarters for 2,200 troops involved in the detention operation, as well as their family members, contract workers, interrogators and other supporting officials.
Uncertainty shrouds the future of the prison camp, amid court rulings that have undermined the government's argument that 545 detainees from 40 countries are beyond the reach of US courts and are not entitled to the same protections prisoners of war get under the Geneva Conventions. But construction continues under the assumption that most detainees aren't leaving soon.
"As long as there is a global war on terror [the detention mission] is here for the long run," said base commander Navy Captain Les McCoy, who doesn't oversee the prison operation but must take its future into account while running the rest of the base. "The Navy realized it hadn't paid attention to Guantanamo. Now they are looking at us."
Two permanent prison camps that can hold 320 people are meant to replace four temporary prisons, suggesting the military hopes gradually to release or transfer many prisoners through parole hearings or negotiations with their home governments. One prison was completed last year, while work has started on US$35 million facility.
With nearly every building on the base in use, finding adequate housing for soldiers and other support staff has been a headache. Many officers live in housing that was boarded up, overrun with rodents called "banana rats" and on the brink of demolition before the detainees arrived.
Enlisted soldiers are less comfortable, crowded into windowless trailers where each barely has a corner to himself. "Camp America," as the trailer park is known, is closer to the prison camp than the social center of the base, which famously has the only McDonald's in Cuba.
The military hopes eventually to move those soldiers to more permanent housing "downtown," said Commander Anne Marie Reese, an engineer overseeing construction for the detention mission.
"Everyone wants to feel like they are going home after work," Reese said. "Whether we can achieve that 100 percent remains to be seen."
Stuck between the Caribbean sea and a 27km fence that separates it from the rest of communist Cuba, Guantanamo is one of the most isolated US naval stations in the world. The parched land and blistering heat reinforces a sleepy atmosphere.
The population surge has meant more parties, sold-out country and rock concerts and -- the latest excitement -- Starbucks coffee.
A stone's throw away from the barbed wire prison camp, soldiers crowd around one of the four kiosks offering mochas, creamices and iced lattes.



