Bin Laden's private life revealed amid rubble

War on Terrorism: Bin Laden

Osama bin Laden's underpants were hanging up to dry in the bathroom of his house outside Jalalabad. They were striped grey and black cotton boxers, with a label reading Angelo Petrico, a size XXL ­ large for such a lean-looking man.

They may, it is true, have belonged to one of his bodyguards, sons or advisers who lived with him in a maze-like compound 20 minutes outside the town ­ but I lifted them from the clothes line anyway, a souvenir from a place full of more sinister and deadly objects.

Since the retreat of their Taliban protectors a fortnight ago, fascinating relics of al-Qa'ida's network have been discovered in their former camp and hideout ­ exercise books full of scribbled notes on nuclear and chemical materials, weapons manuals and many tons of live explosives. There are items here that tell a more personal story of the private lives of the al-Qa'ida family.

Within the high mud walls of this compound,members of Mr bin Laden's clan lived ­ including at least one of his wives and her children. According to the men who now guard it, anti-Taliban mujahedin of Jalalabad's ruling council, Mr bin Laden was seen here a few days before the bombing campaign began on 7 October, when he escorted his wife and household away. He may even have been here on 11 September. Unconfirmed reports from Jalalabad say he was seen in the city as recently as 11 days ago, just 24 hours before the Taliban peacefully pulled out with all their military forces.

But the house in the place known as Ghulam Dog, 20 minutes' drive from the city centre, had intermittently served as one of his bases for years.

Ahmad Shah, the commander whose men guard the house, said: "I saw him myself so often, so what I tell you I witnessed with my own eyes. I first saw him here before the Taliban came. His bodyguards lived here with him ­ they slept in the mosque at the front of the house ­ and he kept his family here, including his wife. That is why it has so many rooms."

The compound, nicknamed "Families", is about 500 yards by 200 yards, with round turrets at its corners. Inside, it is indeed a warren, a tightly packed arrangement of rooms connected by narrow alleyways. In the outer courtyards is the characteristic jumble of most abandoned al-Qa'ida premises, a mixture of the deadly, decaying and mundane. A pile of desiccated loaves of flat naan bread sits next to the cold ashes of an oven. On the other side are cases of unspent machine-gun ammunition next to a dust-covered ping-pong table.

It was in a house like this, in this area, that an Italian and a Spanish journalist described finding boxes containing bottles of sarin nerve gas, the day before they were ambushed and executed on the road to Kabul.

Through another low door, and down an alley littered with antique seven-inch floppy discs, is a small room covered with books and ironware. There are printed circuit boards; a pile of tubes for photographic film, all empty; screws and hooks; and dozens of books, most in English.

"Operator's manual for: detonating mine, portable, metallic and non-metallic" reads one title, close to books on logarithms and calculus. There is a catalogue of electronic switches published by the Japan Aviation Electronics Industry and an empty box that once contained a kit for building a toy lorry.

The only photographs I have seen of Mr bin Laden's children show them posing with Kalashnikovs, and finding evidence of authentic childishness is unexpected. In the centre of Jalalabad four days ago, I visited a house where two al-Qa'ida commanders lived. Inside were telephone directory-sized books written in Arabic and describing the operation of every kind of infantry weapon.

But far more interesting was the conversation I had with an Afghan boy named Ashok playing outside. He described the five al-Qa'ida children who lived in the house opposite his. "If they went outside the door, they were punished by their father," he said. "And nobody was allowed to talk to the adults, not even a kid. I wanted to talk to the children, but they didn't speak our language and they had furious faces."

Many of the rooms in the bin Laden house are completely bare. On its far side, however, there are items showing these are the women's quarters. There are materials for cooking ­ a flat pan for bread and jars of spices and herbs. Here, too, are objects I have found in every one of half a dozen terrorist bases or houses in Jalalabad ­ empty tins of Hedge brand tomato paste and packets of macaroni. Osama bin Laden's Arabs had a passion for pasta.

There is an unused hypodermic needle on the floor and a selection of pills and medicine bottles. But now the guards are hurrying us out.

I nip to the last room and there they are, where they must have been hanging for the past fortnight ­ baggy, sagging a little in the elastic, but undeniably a collectors' item.

Many before me have seen his guns, his plans and his weaponry, but how many can claim to own the underwear of the world's most wanted man?