The young men of the Black Car Brigade were sprawled across the living room, chessboard on the table, guitar on the sofa, guns leaning against the wall.
For the first time in weeks they had enjoyed a full night's sleep, a shave and a shower. Coffee had been brewed, and bread rolls delivered. Muammar Gaddafi's forces had been kicked out of the city centre in Misrata, allowing them a rest – and a chance to act their age.
"This is Mr al-Qaida," said Abdulfatah Shaka, 22, a student of refrigeration engineering, Pink Floyd aficionado, tank destroyer and leader of the small rebel cell, pointing to his cousin and classmate Mohamed, 21.
Next he gestured towards Alsallabi, 20, whose university studies have also been interrupted by the revolution in February. "That is the Taliban."
The joke was on Gaddafi, who has blamed the uprising on Islamist terror groups. Everyone laughed: Bashir the seaman, unemployed Ahmed, Abdulmajid the floor tile salesman and Bassam the student. At 23, he was the oldest in the room – until 30-year-old Abdulhamid strolled in after a 10-hour sleep: "My best in two months." In better times he was a chef. "I swapped my spoon for a Kalashnikov," he said.
![Misrata rebels](https://i.guim.co.uk/img/static/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2011/4/26/1303844005190/Misrata-rebels-007.jpg?width=445&dpr=1&s=none)
The uneasy calm that descended over Misrata on Tuesday – the first such day in more than a month – was a consequence of the resounding defeat suffered by Gaddafi's forces inside the city. The remaining troops and artillery are now concentrated in the southern outskirts, leaving as much as 90% of the city free. The rain of missiles launched from up to 10 miles outside the city has also slowed, with some rebels saying Nato warplanes had destroyed some of Gaddafi's armoury overnight.
But there have been few celebrations among the people here. A battle has been won, not a war. And the conflict will soon resume, from one side or the other. "We are getting ready, resting, fixing our machines," said Ibrahim "Grande" Shiniba, 39, a senior rebel who once played football for Libya. "We have our men watching Gaddafi's forces, seeing what they are doing. Maybe we will attack them later today, or tomorrow."
In defending the city, the rebels have suffered heavy losses. The Black Car Brigade, as Gaddafi's forces called them because of the colour of their battlewagons, originally had about 200 men. About 30 were killed and 100 injured. Others have taken their places.
The rebels say they are still waiting for more weapons and ammunition, but will fight on with what they have, most of it scavenged from Gaddafi's forces. Mohamed Shaka, "Mr al-Qaida", examined the 14.5mm machinegun he had welded on to the back of his pickup, complete with a custom-built firing chair made from metal and a hospital mattress.
The car was reinforced with thick steel plates in front and back. There was no bonnet. On the dashboard were three books: a biography of Martin Luther King, Oscar's Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest, and Thomas Hardy's Tales from Longpuddle.
Shaka shrugged. "When there's a break in fighting I like to read."
The cell was based near Tripoli Street, the city's main thoroughfare and the scene of its heaviest gunbattles. For several blocks on either side the houses bear the scars of bullets, grenades or shells. Virtually everyone living here fled when Gaddafi's forces came in, though some were too late.
Abdulfatah Shaka's father was one of those unlucky people, kidnapped from the living room where his son and the other young rebels were now relaxing. Like hundreds of other abducted civilians in Misrata, he has not been seen for more than a month.
Across the road, Salah Sadawi stood outside her house, cradling one of her five-month-old twins. It was the first time in weeks she had been back to her home, and she was surveying the damage. The lock of the gate was riddled with bullet holes where Gaddafi's soldiers had forced their way in. Sadawi said a Mauritanian soldier – one of Gaddafi's mercenaries – had ordered her husband, Hana Siddig, an English translator, to shave his beard. "They said he was a terrorist and then they took him away. When they came back they said he had confessed and that I must show them the weapons. But we have no weapons. They said I should forget about my husband, as he would be killed. Just forget about him."