Hey all, I just discovered this incredibly well delivered short story about a former soldier during the Nigerian-Biafran War. I couldn't help picturing this as a major motion picture especially as our Movie industry is stepping up. Please take your time to read the first few paragraphs and feel free to head on to the site for the full short story. You can find the link at the bottom!

At dawn, I took off into no-man’s land, as I have done two times before, to gain a bearing that skirted the left flank of the enemy trenches. This improvised trail led through perfect cover of luscious elephant grass, the height of a tall man. The entire no-man’s land was really a checkerboard of small family farms, before the war and the grass took it over. I had plotted my path carefully between farms where the demarcations were wider than between the ridges, and therefore permitted me to advance without unduly rustling the grass. My target was a spot on the main Port Harcourt – Owerri road.

Apart from the AK-47 rifle, I packed the two Biafran-made anti-tank grenades in our armoury. The grenades were each the size of a pint bottle, and weighed a ton – as the saying goes. I threaded wire through holes in the long handles and tied them to my belt, one hanging on each side. I could barely walk erect, but I hoped that I would not have to lug them back again. They oozed pungent, black grease that permanently disfigured my flimsy calico uniform.

Let me tell you something about these Biafran contraptions. They worked spectacularly when they did. At other times – more times than not – they worked at their own whims or did not work all.

I got to my target on that main road and perched flat on the high embankment, watching right and left and across it, and listening intently to the bushes behind me. I felt safe under the thick undergrowth and ferns. There was no way anybody could find me unless they stepped on me. 150 yards to the right, on the Owerri side, the road dipped into a bend which was not in itself too sharp, but the thick, high wall of forest on either side came together to obscure the road beyond completely. The other way toward Port Harcourt, I could see for a mile or so.

Link to the full short story:
http://obi-nion.com/prisoner-of-war/

That's some story. Sounds real too. The writer displays a truly inimitable style. Un-African in my opinion. Educated in New York University, what more could you ask for.
Good story.