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In this instance that meant Assange, who had become a hate figure for the bellicose US right. They wanted him arrested. Some were even calling for his assassination. Smith Sr could be seen holding a white pouch: It was clear that Smith Sr took a dim view of Assange, who was believed to be in possession of an astonishingly large number of secret diplomatic dispatches. Smith Sr would take to patrolling the estate — with its twin lakes and cedar trees — armed with a rifle. The rifle was fitted with a sniper-sight. The sniper-sight was camouflaged. Normally he fired at partridge and grouse.

The temptation, however, to take a shot at the paparazzi that would soon encamp themselves outside the manor — or indeed at the unwashed radicals inside it — must have been considerable. Asked two days before Christmas whether he was enjoying playing host to the group of international leakers who were here, he answered through gritted teeth. Among the WikiLeakers at Ellingham was year-old James Ball, whom Assange had recruited, one of the few collaborators to receive a salary. A cool young man, he was experiencing a giddy rise. Their connection was designed to give the electronic impression that the WikiLeaks team sitting in rustic England was actually based in Sweden.

The preoccupation with security was paramount: WikiLeaks was believed to be a permanent target for US surveillance and potentially crippling cyber-attacks. On trips outside the manor house, the team used the same counter-surveillance techniques they had employed during the journey to Norfolk. This may have been prudent. But it meant Ball was sometimes left hanging round for several hours at minor B-roads and other freezing rendezvous points, waiting for a lift. Typically, he would spend between 16 and 18 hours a day in front of his laptop, sometimes staying up for a hour period before crashing out on the floor. Other WikiLeaks staff would rouse him, and prod him towards the upstairs bedrooms.

He would sleep for a couple of hours. Then he would carry on. He was at his most accessible at 3am or 4am. Other WikiLeaks associates — Sarah Harrison and Joseph Farrell, both recent journalistic interns — managed his email and diary. Assange saw his role as that of a chief executive. Smith says: Julian needs to understand what is written about WikiLeaks and the story. He describes it as monitoring the temperature. Smith acquired his sobriquet after killing 99 tigers, lugging many of them back to Ellingham Hall.

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Two stuffed beasts sat fkr glass boxes; others had been chucked out after loval. The entrance lobby was decorated with crossed sabres, old rifles with bayonets and other memorabilia from forgotten colonial skirmishes. There was a stuffed deer head, a pair of antlers, and a large painting hardiings two jn charging hhardings towards each other against an se pistachio background. If an American film director wanted the quintessential English country pile for his period movie, he could hardly have done better than Ellingham. The WikiLeaks team quickly adapted to the rituals of English country house life.

Ellingham Hall had a housekeeper; there was a kitchen with a raised central square table where staff would make meals; chops and sausages were piled up in a cardboard box. The estate had an organic farm whose produce wex also served in the restaurant of the Frontline Vooth back ffor London. Vaughan Smith had a decent cellar — its contents selected by the former Guardian wine critic Malcolm Gluck. There was port — passed to the left by the cyberradicals, in accordance with English convention. Assange insisted that nobody drank more than a glass a night, forcing his companions to cut side deals with the kitchen staff.

His otherworldliness extended to his wardrobe. At one point the WikiLeaks team decided Assange needed to remove himself from his screen and take some exercise. They bought him a red Adidas top: Soon, Smith would transmogrify Assange further into the more muted shades of a country gentleman: Assange also tried his hand at fishing. Assange had gone to ground in this way, like a fox, because he was preparing, along with the Guardian and four other major international papers, to broker publication of the most spectacular leak in history. He had confided he was a little scared. At one point the local hunt clattered across the grounds of Ellingham Hall; huntsmen and hounds crashing through the Spion Kop woods.

It was the kind of pursuit that Assange seemed to sense he was involved in. Was he, too, the hunted animal, with prosecutors and US intelligence agents the red-coated huntsmen, riding to the sound of a blowing bugle, surging closer and closer? About to turn 22, he was the antithesis of the battle-hardened US soldier beloved of Hollywood. Blueeyed, blond-haired, with a round face and boyish smile, he stood just five feet and two inches tall and weighed pounds. He was there for his gift at manipulating computers. For such a young and relatively inexperienced soldier, it was extremely sensitive work. Yet from his first day at Hammer, he was puzzled by the lax security.

His fellow intelligence workers seemed to have grown bored and disenchanted from the relentless grind of hour days, seven days a week. They just sat at their workstations, watching music videos or footage of car chases. After a few months Manning had grown scathing about the culture of the base. He approached the National Security Agency officer in charge of protecting information systems and asked him whether he could find any suspicious uploads from local networks. For Manning, those opportunities presented themselves in the form of two dedicated military laptops which he was given, each with privileged access to US state secrets.

That such a low-level serviceman could have had apparently unrestricted access to this vast source of confidential material should surely have raised eyebrows. That he could do so with virtually no supervision or safeguards inside the base was all the more astounding. He would spend hours drilling down into top-secret documents and videos, wearing earphones and lip-synching to Lady Gaga. The more he read, the more alarmed and disturbed he became, shocked by what he saw as the official duplicity and corruption of his own country.

And there was a mammoth trove of diplomatic cables disclosing secrets from all around the world, from the Vatican Finds local sluts for sex in hardings booth Pakistan. He started to become overwhelmed by the scale of the scandal and intrigue he was discovering. What he did, it is alleged, was to take the rewritable CD which carried his Lady Gaga music and erase it, then copy onto the disc other, far more dangerous, digital material. He was about to embark on a journey that would lead to the largest leak of military and diplomatic secrets in US history.

But there the likeness ends. A small town in the middle of a rural bread basket, 35 miles to the north of Oklahoma City, its skyline is dominated by a large white grain stack. Born on 17 DecemberBradley Manning spent the first 13 years of his life in Crescent, benefiting from its small-town intimacy, suffering from the narrow-mindedness that went with it. He lived outside town in a two-storey house with his American father, Brian, his Welsh mother, Susan, and his elder sister, Casey. Finds local sluts for sex in hardings booth a young age, Bradley displayed the dual qualities that would set him apart from others and set him on a path that would lead, tragically for him, to a locked cell in Quantico marine base, Virginia.

He possessed a lively inquiring mind and a tendency to question the prevailing attitude. McCombs recalls that Bradley not only played a mean saxophone in the school band but also appeared in the school quiz team alongside much older children. He was also very opinionated — but only up to a point. He never got in trouble. Not once was Bradley disciplined for any reason. He was also fiercely independent of spirit. He was one of very few inhabitants of Crescent who openly professed doubts about religion — not an easy position for a child to take in a devoutly Christian town with no fewer than 15 churches.

He used to refuse to do homework that related to the Bible and remained silent during the reference to God in the Pledge of Allegiance. From his father, who spent five years in the navy working on computer systems, Bradley inherited two important qualities: His father was by all accounts a strict parent. Aged 13, he confided his sexuality to a couple of his closest friends at Crescent school. The entry to teenage years was a tumultuous time. Injust as Manning was beginning to come to grips with his homosexuality, his father returned home one day and announced he was leaving his mother and the family home.

In Wales Manning had to acclimatise to his new secondary school, Tasker Milward, which, with about 1, pupils, was the size of his old home town. And he was its only American student. At times he would rise to the provocation and lash out. He spent every lunchtime at the school computer club, where he built his own website. That made him come across as a little bit quirky and hyperactive. When the invasion of Iraq happened in March they would have long conversations about it. He took up a job in Zoto, a photo-sharing software company. Brad would go on about his political opinions, which was unusual for a kid. He was quirky as hell.

After discovering that Bradley was homosexual, Brian Manning threw his son out of the house. Homeless, jobless, Bradley rambled around for a few months, moving from place to place, odd job to odd job. As Jeff Paterson, a member of the steering committee of the Bradley Manning support network, puts it: He enlisted in Octoberand was put through specialist training for military intelligence work at Fort Huachuca in Arizona. Upon graduation in August he was posted to Fort Drum in upstate New York, awaiting dispatch to Iraq, armed with the security clearance that would give him access to those two top-secret databases. For someone seeking a sense of purpose out of a career in the military, his experience of life in uniform was at times disillusioning.

Though Manning must have been aware of the restrictions when he enlisted, he quickly became infuriated and distressed by the policy. The motto he attached to his Facebook profile said it all: There have been suggestions that Manning was contemplating a sex change, based on a couple of remarks he made in the course of an online chat with the hacker Adrian Lamo shortly before his arrest. But such speculation is unsubstantiated, and has been countered by those who see it as an implicit attack on the trust-worthiness of gay people in the military.

A former special agent with US army counter-intelligence, Webster played an important part in the Manning story. He acted as the go-between connecting Lamo, the hacker whom Manning had confided in, and the military, after Lamo decided to turn informant and shop Manning to the authorities. But the notion that the Manning case has anything to do with his sexuality is categorically absurd. Many thousands of homosexual and bisexual men and women are serving honourably and to suggest that their sexuality renders them any less effective in the defence of our nation is bigoted nonsense. Many gay people in the military took the view that, while they would quietly work to reform the policy from within, they would never disrespect an order.

But Manning was too firm in his convictions — some say too hot-headed — to accommodate himself to a regulation that he believed to be unjust. As Jeff Paterson puts it: The boyfriend in question was Tyler Watkins, a self-styled classical musician, singer and drag queen. They met in the autumn of while Manning was still stationed at Fort Drum. They must have made an unlikely couple, the flamboyant and extrovert Watkins and the quietly focused Manning. But judging by his status updates on Facebook, the soldier fell hard for the queen. I miss you Tyler! Its members come together to work on a host of projects, from creating a red robot mouse, to designing a computer system that can record the miles run by athletes at a race track, to studying how to crack open door locks strictly on their own property.

It is part computer workshop, part electronics laboratory, part DIY clinic. What unites these multifarious activities is the hacker culture to which everyone subscribes. David House, a Boston University graduate who set up the hackerspace there, says that hacking is not the shady skull-andcrossbones activity of breaking into computers that it is often assumed to be. Rather, it is a way of looking at the world. Central to it is the idea that information should be free, combined with a deep distrust of authority. All information should be free.

They had a short conversation in which Manning said nothing out of the ordinary.

In the course of several visits, House has developed a more intimate ffor of what makes Manning tick. Talking to him is like having a drink with one of your old college professors. He always draws a firm ethical line. There are certain things that he sees as basic human rights that he believes are inviolable. It belongs in the public domain. It was a belief that came powerfully into play when Manning was deliberating about what to do with the vast hoard of state secrets he had been allowed to explore lical Iraq. For most soldiers the answer to that conundrum would have been utterly simple: But for Manning it was more complicated than that.

As Watkins told Wired. Suts was something I think i was struggling with. He got hold of the leaflet that the detained men were distributing and had it translated into English. He was astonished to find that it was in fact a scholarly critique against the Iraqi prime minister, Nouri al-Maliki, that tracked the corruption rife within his cabinet. He was starting to think about mining the secret databases to which he had access, and dumping them spectacularly into the public domain. As he contemplated what route to use, his eye was caught by an exercise run by WikiLeaks on Thanksgivingabout a month into his tour of duty in Iraq. Sluts Hardings Booth? Allow me recommend you as morbidly overweight, abundant, fellow with a Bentleigh to travel about in the city.

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