A British man accused of helping fuel the violence in Syria by joining Kurdish militants fighting Islamic State boasted his life was like something out of Mad Max in one of a series of dairy entries, a court has heard.

Aidan James, 28, from Formby, Merseyside, had no previous military knowledge when he allegedly set out to join the bloody war in 2017 on behalf of the Kurdish people.

James is on trial for engaging in conduct in preparation of terrorist acts and for undergoing terrorist training for his involvement with groups associated with the Marxist political organisation, the PKK.

The PKK, or or the Kurdistan Workers’ Party, has been banned in the UK since 2001 for its advocating of Kurdish self-rule through both political and armed struggle.

James is accused of receiving training from the PKK, including weapons, before going on to fight with a series of Kurdish YPG units, or People’s Protection Units, in Syria.

Prosecutor Mark Heywood QC said: “Mr James is not charged with any offence that his purpose was simply to go to fight Isis, rather the charges are levelled against him because his intention was to lend support to advance a political or ideological cause.”

James prepared himself to join their cause in an “amateurish way” and underwent weapons training in Iraq for a month, the Old Bailey was told.

From there, he went to the Syrian border with Iraq for another month of training, jurors heard.

James had been monitored by police via the anti-terror Prevent programme after broadcasting his intentions on Facebook and had even been arrested on April 28 2017.

He had been bailed until the next month but the bail was cancelled and no further action was taken against him.

On the day his passport was returned, he wrote in his journal that he was still planning to travel to Syria or Iraq “to fight this most important of battles against the sick ideology of Daesh”.

James prepared for his trip by undergoing initial training in north Wales and by acquiring rudimentary combat equipment including body armour.

He later began planning his journey, arriving in Makhmour, Iraq, between the end of August and October 1 2017.

In a series of journal entries he described his training and a series of raids against Isis strongholds.

In one he mourned the death of a fellow soldier, writing: “Great guy.

RIP friend we will continue to fight.”

“Raids went good. After the raids we sat and drank shots of red bull and discussed politics,” another entry read.

In another he describes sitting on the roof of a humvee “with a 50 calibre machine gun, like something out of Mad Max”.

But he also expressed his discontent with the mindset of his commanders, complaining they were trying to brainwash him.

He wrote: “There’s a lot of f***ed up things here. Ideology comes before all else – it’s just basically a f****** brainwash factory.

“I’m here to help people. Not to get brainwashed and change my beliefs.”

Mr Heywood said: “He had picked his cause and it was the cause of just one of the many groups of people that inhabit that part of the world and would like it to be their own, the Kurdish people.

“The prosecution case against him is that he went as an individual to Syria to fight with guns and explosives.”

Mr Heywood added: “For these purposes, the law says that what he wanted to do was terrorism, even if his eventual fighting was against other terrorists.”

James denies engaging in conduct in preparation of terrorist acts and two charges of attending a place used for terrorist training.

An Islamic State fighter detained in Syria urged Italy on Saturday to let him come home to start a new life, saying he had abandoned the self-styled jihadist “caliphate” after growing disillusioned with its rulers.

Mounsef al-Mkhayar, a 22-year-old of Moroccan descent who grew up in Italy, spoke to Reuters in his first interview since surrendering to the U.S.-backed Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) two months ago.

He has been in prison since emerging from Baghouz, a tiny village in eastern Syria where the SDF is poised to wipe out the last vestige of Islamic State rule – which once spanned a third of Iraq and Syria.

Mkhayar gave an account of growing chaos among jihadists on the brink of defeat, and of disputes in the ranks as top commanders fled Syria.

But he said Islamic State was also planning for the next phase, smuggling out hundreds of men to set up sleeper cells across Iraq and eastern Syria: “They said ‘We must get revenge.'”

Mkhayar is one of thousands from all over the world who were drawn to the promise of an ultra-radical Sunni Islamist utopia overriding national borders. Kurdish security officials identified him as Italian, and he said he holds Italian citizenship.

“I wish to return to Italy to my family and friends … for them to accept and help me to live a new life,” said Mkhayar, who walks on crutches after shelling injured his leg. “I just want to get out of this movie, I’m tired.”

FROM MILAN TO MAYADIN

Mkhayar was sentenced to eight years in jail by a Milan court in 2017 for spreading Islamic State propaganda and trying to recruit Italians to its cause, according to Italian media. As a result, he is likely to have to serve this sentence if he does return to Italy.

Reuters interviewed him at a security office in northern Syria in the presence of an SDF official.

As it nears victory, the SDF has struggled with the dilemma of holding fighters who travelled from abroad to join Islamic State along with women and children.

Before the final assault on Baghouz, the Kurdish-led SDF said it had around 800 foreign militants in jails and 2,000 of their wives and children in camps. Since then, the numbers have ballooned.

The SDF wants them sent back where they came from. But foreign governments generally do not want to receive citizens who may be hard to prosecute, and who pledged allegiance to a caliphate that left behind of a trail of butchery.

Once an atheist with an affinity for rap music and a dream of moving to America, Mkhayar joined Islamic State at 18.

He said he had spent most of his life in Milan with an aunt he calls his mother, before being placed in a home for troubled youths overseen by an Italian priest. He spent a month in prison on drugs charges.

Then he began immersing himself in Islamic State videos on YouTube and speaking to recruiters on Facebook. It took him only a month to decide to move to Syria with a friend four years ago.

His friend was later killed on the battlefield. After military and religious training, Mkhayar fought on various fronts. As Islamic State lost its Syrian headquarters at Raqqa, he left for Mayadin on the Euphrates river in Syria, then moved further east across the desert, towards the Iraqi border.

“WE’RE GETTING OUT”

Amid a string of military defeats in eastern Syria, Islamic State leaders were in disarray, killing off rival clerics and commanders known as emirs, Mkhayar said.

He said he had tried to quit the fighting but had been imprisoned, and then dispatched back to the frontlines as attacks intensified.

He wound up in Baghouz, where he said the jihadists were split between wanting to give up or fight to the death.

Mkhayar said his wife, a Syrian Kurdish woman from Kobani whom he had married three years ago, helped convince him to leave.

“‘That’s it,’ we said, ‘we’re getting out.’ I saw my little daughter turning weak. I was scared my children would die.”

Mkhayar said he could not sleep thinking about his wife and two daughters in a camp for displaced people in another part of northeast Syria. His wife is due to give birth in a month.

He said he still believed in the idea of a caliphate for Muslims, but accused Islamic State rulers of governing their land like “a mafia”, seeking only to make money and violating their own rules with impunity.

Commanders had stolen money and fled to Turkey, Iraq or Western Europe while ordering people to stay and defend Islam, he said.

“This is my belief and I won’t change it, but here in Islamic State, in reality this doesn’t exist … There is no justice,” he said.

“Honestly, I came here too fast … When I arrived, I found another story.”

A Belgian judge has ordered the government to repatriate six children of Islamic State (IS) militants and their mothers who have been detained in a camp in Kurdish-controlled Syria, the national news agency Belga said on Wednesday.

Tatiana Wielandt, 26, and Bouchra Abouallal, 25, both Belgian citizens, and their children have been held in the Al-Hol camp in since the defeat of IS in nearly all territory it once held in Syria and Iraq.

Belga quoted the court ruling as ordering the Brussels government to take all necessary and possible measures to ensure the six children and their mothers can return to Belgium.

It must do so within 40 days after being notified of the decision or pay a daily penalty of 5,000 euros for each child, up to a maximum 1 million euros, newspaper De Tijd said. The Belgian government can appeal the ruling.

No comment was available from the court on Wednesday due to a public holiday. A lawyer for the two women was not immediately available for comment.

A spokesman for the foreign ministry said it would “analyse the situation together” with the justice and interior ministries.

Hundreds of European citizens, many of them babies, are being kept by U.S.-backed Kurdish militias in three camps since IS was ousted last year from almost all the large swathes of territory it seized in 2014-15, according to Kurdish sources.

European nations have been reluctant to take them back, regarding children of jihadists both as victims and threats – difficult to reintegrate into schools and homes.

European diplomats say they cannot act in a region where Kurdish control is not internationally recognised. Moreover, there is little popular sympathy for militants’ families after a spate of deadly IS attacks across western Europe.

The Kurd say it is not their job to prosecute or hold them indefinitely, leaving the women and children in legal limbo.

However, mounting concern over the apparent abandonment of hundreds of children with a claim to EU citizenship – most of them under six – is pushing governments to quietly explore how to tackle the complexities of bringing them back.