The coral sea vista opened up by judges

"The freedom to return to one’s homeland, however poor and barren the conditions of life... (is) one of the most fundamental liberties known to human beings," read the decision.

On hearing the news, there was a ripple of excitement in Court 71, although the 20 or so Chagossians gathered at the back were remarkably restrained, perhaps unsure that they had understood correctly amid the highfalutin’ legalese.

But then their counsel, softly spoken and sabre-sharp Sir Sydney Kentridge, 84, rose cautiously to his feet, adjusted his white, horse-hair wig slightly on his head, and gently explained that yes, indeed, the islanders had won.

"In theory they can go home," he said, adding wisely: "although I can’t think it’s going to be easy to get there."

"FOOTPRINT OF FREEDOM"

Starting in 1966 and for the following five years, the British government steadily removed around 2,000 islanders from Diego Garcia and two other Chagos atolls, Peros Banhos and Salomon, to allow the Americans to build their military base.

The removals were made clandestinely, with islanders taken on trips to Mauritius and the Seychelles with little more than hand luggage and then told there was no way of getting back.

Abandoned with barely any means of support, many of them ended up with lives of poverty, crime and destitution, their skills as fishermen and coconut farmers next to useless in the more urbanised environment of their new homes.

Diego Garcia, meanwhile, was leased by Britain to the United States for 50 years -- until 2016 -- and turned into a crucial U.S. military hub, especially for bombers and spy planes.

While incredibly remote -- it sits around 1,000 miles (1,600 km) south of India -- the base has been used to conduct air campaigns in Afghanistan and Iraq, and is now regarded by Washington as an essential part of its global security network.

Because of the peculiar shape of the atoll, which is about 35 miles (56 km) long and 15 miles (24 km) wide, the Americans have dubbed it the "Footprint of Freedom" and are determined not to give it up -- or even let anyone anywhere close to it.

Not only do they not want the islanders to return to Diego Garcia, but for "security reasons" they don’t want them returning to Peros Banhos or Salomon either, even though those atolls are between 60 and 100 miles away.

Yet, if this week’s court decision is not overturned -- the British government has one more appeal, to the House of Lords, and must decide in the next month if it wants to take that risk after three defeats -- the Chagossians will have won outright.

They may never be able to re-inhabit Diego Garcia itself -- that was always made off-limits -- but Peros Banhos and Salomon, idyllic, palm-tree-laden atolls fringed by crystal waters and coral reefs, would be theirs to live in once again.

LIFE AFRESH

Of the 2,000 or so Chagossians removed in the 1960s, only about 500 are still alive. Together with their descendants, the total Chagos Islander population stands at around 4,500.

While most remain in Mauritius or the Seychelles, some have been granted British citizenship and tried to make he most of their lives in the land of their erstwhile colonial masters.

Roch Evenor, 50, left Diego Garcia with his parents when he was four years old. For most of the past 45 years he’s lived in Britain, where he works for the National Health Service.

His lifestyle and standards of living may be far better than those Chagossians left stranded in Mauritius, but like all the others the feeling that really burns within him is the desire to return to -- or even just see -- the land of his forefathers.

The Chagossians regard themselves as one family and reverence of their ancestors is very important in their culture. All those in court with Evenor this week said their priority when they got back to Chagos would be to tend the graves of their parents and grandparents, left abandoned for decades.

They also believe that no matter how remote, how rundown or how underdeveloped the islands may now be, they are capable of turning them into an Indian Ocean paradise that will attract tourists and visitors from the world over.

Solomon Prosper, a newborn when he left Diego Garcia with his parents in 1970, and who is now a trainee meteorologist in London, knows where he would rather be.

"There, people don’t think like they do here -- we have a different mentality. You feel the sand on your feet, and the sun on your face. It’s a completely different life."