₦airaland Forum

Dedicated to the members of the Nigerian Armed Forces, combating terrorism. Risking their necks everyday so ours can hold our heads in place.

By Obasa Olatunbosun
Fb Page: Olatunbosun Writes


We were camped somewhere in the Forest along Yobe State. We were all scared, but hey! We were all humans. We had been deployed from our various states of service. I was a Lieutenant Colonel drafted from Ogun State. At first I bemoaned my fate and cursed my faith but well, too little too late. Every one of us had stories to tell, in the end we all told the stories we had to share. We built a garrison out of Bamboo; it was about 100 sq ft. We made sand bags to shield ourselves during cross fires. We built sentry posts on the four corners of the garrison so as to have a broad view at the same time.


We started out as bitter rivals due to our ethnic and religious differences but along the line we realized that we were not leaving each other's hairs anytime soon we began to tolerate each other to the point that we accepted one another alongside their shortcomings. It was this point it dawned on me that the battle we came to fight wasn't a battle against religious ideologists; it was a battle against heretics, bigots and those who are so blood-thirsty that they are just looking for the slightest opportunity to feed their hemophilia.


Our Commanding officer was Colonel Raji Akinrinde, tall; north of 6ft, trim, smart. He was the direct contrast of what our bureaucrat superiors and bean counters were. He didn't see us as subordinates, instead he saw us as comrades but he knew where to draw the line and he earned the respect of all those under his command. We were a perfect example of the term "Brothers-in-Arms". During the day, we would send out men, to scope the terrain and check for the unusual and probe for information. We always hit a brick wall.


One day at dawn, it was my turn to carry out reconnaissance, and I was paired with Lieutenant Colonel Bala Idris; one jovial Hausa chap. He always saw the bright side to every gloomy situation. I liked him and I was glad I was paired with him. We set out as others had done before us. We travelled under the cover of early darkness and we were in disguise as wanderers. In white Hausa Danshiki and shorts that were really dirty. If we were the enemy, we would be convinced because the stench was awful but we were used to worse situations.


On our way, we came across some corpses. There were no apparent injuries therefore we could infer that they died from exhaustion or starvation. They were women with children. And my thoughts flashed to my family at home. The look on my Pregnant wife's face when she discovered that I was posted to battle insurgency. She wailed, I felt my stomach churn at the sight of tears trickling down her face. I had to steel up to still her from crying. I told her I would be back, either with my gun or with it laying n me. I remembered the faces of my little twin daughters when they saw me packed. Taiwo asked "Daddy, where are you going?" To which I responded "Daddy wants to go make the country safe" which Kehinde asked "but daddy we are safe already are we not?". Damn, at 5 years each, these kids were way intelligent. They got that from their mother, I was all brawn while she was the brains, I often wondered while she chose me.


I was brought back to earth by Bala's tap, I was startled and he raised his index finger to his lips and asked me to listen which I did. I could hear a rustle along with wails of a little boy. We traced the source of the wail and we saw a little boy of not more than 8 years crying. When we asked him what happened, he resumed his wailing. Bala spoke to him in Hausa, while the boy responded. Bala translated that the boy said that those were his family members. They died two days ago. They had malaria and had no access to treatment. Bala asked the boy to go to any nearest occupied village to stay, I asked him to let us take the boy there. We walked 45 minutes before we found an occupied village and we put the boy there after narrating to the village head who we were.



We got back to our Garrison around 13:00 hrs, our commander had started worrying if something had happened to us. We narrated everything to him which he didn't say anything except okay. That night after dinner, one of our sentry men, reported a strange movement through the radio, we startled alert, grabbed our weapons and then he reported, it was only a lost child. We got up to go see what was happening outside our tent. Then a loud noise was heard, at that moment, I could feel something spray on my face, I could taste it, I swiped it then looked at it, blood; someone else's blood. Then another shot, which grazed my head while I was hitting the ground. Suddenly an aroma of roasted meat sifted through my nostrils. It was my own head giving that aroma, how ironic.


Suddenly someone shouted "Boko Haram", everybody hit the ground with their weapons except the boy who had no sign of life in his eyes, he was just staring ahead, then I recognized him as the boy we took to the village that morning. Oh my God, I looked at his chest, it was bulged, "Bomb" I shouted but my voice was clearly inaudible under all the barrage of gunfire exchanged. Then the boy moved to the area where our men were concentrated, I saw his fingers go into his pocket, I picked my gun from where it had skittered to when I was hitting the ground, I aimed for the boy's head and pulled the trigger, I could see his brain matter spurt out of the front of his head through the light provided by the exchange of gunfire by both parties. I saw the detonator fall off his hands, my joy turned to horror in the twinkle of an eye when the detonator recognition dawned on me. It was a pressure sensitive detonator.

“What have I done?" I muttered. Then came a loud bang which I knew would come but was hoping and praying wouldn't come. I saw a large surface area of sand splash into the sky along with various limbs and all sorts of uniformed appendages. I tried grabbing my weapon, a Kalashnikov AK-47 automatic, but I couldn't garner my balance as my ears were still ringing and messed up by the explosion. I found out that I was still gathering my breath as it was knocked out by the force of the explosion. My adrenaline kicked in, I grabbed my weapons, I made for the sandbags, I hid behind it, started shooting at the insurgents. I saw that the sand bags that were supposed to protect me had started getting tattered while sand was leaking profusely from the bullet holes and losing their efficiency. I rolled to another mounted sandbags, while rolling I felt a searing pain in my right leg.


I had definitely been shot. I looked at my bleeding legs as tears started welling in my eyes, a million questions running through my mind but one was constant which was why I could grasp it "is this how I die?". I made to regain composure but then I heard a loud howl, then an explosion not far from where I lay, the noise came from a Rocket Launcher. I had no strength left within me to fight, I lay on my back waiting for the inevitable; my death. I saw about half a dozen faces looking down at me, and I could pick out one distinct face but I couldn't remember who he was. As they started to lift their weapons to finish me off, I closed my eyes, their barbaric noises of victory renting the air was seeping into my ears. Then I made out a different sound which resembled that of an engine but I couldn't place which engine it was amidst the commotion and I could hear gunshots renting the air once again.


I thought that it was the sound from the guns aimed at me, but then I realized that bullets travel faster than the speed of sound and not definitely at such close range will I be shot and hear the sound of the gun that shot me. Then I felt liquid spill on my face and a much heavier semi-liquefied substance on my face, I opened my eyes, wiped my face first with my palms, and I discovered it was blood and brain matter. I couldn't move as the pain in my right leg was searing and my legs were getting numb at the same time. I looked around and saw that it was another battalion that laid siege to those that besieged us.



I was lifted into their Transport vehicle, a truck on a stretcher. One of them probably a medic took charge immediately; he tore my fatigues around the point of bullet entry, mounted an IV and injected me with Morphine. When I woke up and got my bearings, I looked around, I was in a Military Hospital, but where? I didn't know. I examined myself, I saw that my right leg was neatly bandaged. Shortly, a Doctor walked in, he greeted me with deference. I looked at my bedside; I saw my letter of promotion to a Colonel. I cried for a while and things started falling into perspective.



I finally remembered where I knew the man I recognized amongst the insurgents, it was the leader of the town we took the little boy to. We had walked into a Boko Haram camp and came back alive. At first I wondered why they didn't kill Bala and I, but I knew they were looking at the bigger picture, they let us go because if they had killed us, our garrison would be fully alert, they would lose the element of surprise. Secondly, they needed us to be the ball of thread that would lead them to our Garrison since they did not know where we camped. We were the Trojan Horses. I killed my whole Garrison. I did and I was the only one alive. I wailed out loud, started shouting "why didn't I die, why did I have to live?" the Doctors rushed in and sedated me.


When I was discharged, I attended the mass burial of the members of my Garrison. I couldn’t stand the pain of their families. “ I should be dead” I kept repeating to myself. I didn’t deserve to be alive. Call it survivor’s guilt, but I killed the members of my garrison. I shouldn’t have asked that we take the boy to safety; we should have left him to his own fate. I wished I knew what would have happened, I would have killed him the moment I saw him.




I was later invited along with my family to Aso Rock to dine with the President on National Television. I was labeled a Hero, at the mention of Hero, my stomach churned and I gripped the handle of my walking stick..... if only they knew. The President gave me a medal, which I gallantly limped to receive. We took pictures with various dignitaries. He awarded full scholarships to my three children as my Wife had given birth to a bouncing baby boy while I was away, she named him Abidemi. She was all smiles, I was forced to smile for National Television. We were given lots of monetary gifts. I asked that the checks be written in my wife's name. We got home my wife went to bathe; my twins came and sat beside me on the couch with me in between.


We played so much, I had missed them a lot. I missed my garrison men too. I asked them to go meet their mom for a shower but they insisted that I be the one to bathe them. I obliged, they clung on to my neck while I used one hand to support myself with my walking stick I took them to the bathroom, played with them for an hour. I asked them to go and sleep at first they were reluctant, I promised them to take them out the following day if they went to sleep at that moment they rushed to bed in that instant. I went into our room, found my wife sprawled tiredly in bed, I smiled and covered her with the duvet.


I left our bedroom went out to our store room, brought out a little box locked with a padlock. I fished its keys from my wallet, opened it and brought out a 9mm handgun. I checked the magazine if it still contained any round which I found was full. I opened my mouth, put the barrel in my mouth, it felt cold and dusty I felt a tear escape my left eye as I was about to pull the trigger. I lived as a coward and now I had the chance to die like the hero I was proclaimed to be on National Television.


I pulled the trigger, and everything went black.



The End