₦airaland Forum

Great idea!but how do u prevent copyright violation?

All hell broke loose as the sirens started wailing. All around me, men were jolted from different levels of leisure or activity and everyone grabbed their weapons and made for their designated battle stations. I jumped off my bunk and tossed the paperback novel I was reading to the floor, grabbing my AK-47 and my web gear and running for the machine gun nest where my squad was pre-ordered to man.

I jumped into the sandbagged position just as the mortar shells started dropping around us. I knocked off Sergeant Giwa’s helmet with the stock of my gun and he favoured me with a mean look while I mumbled an apology and ducked lower to avoid getting my head chopped off by a flying fragment of hot metal.

‘Sir,’ I said to him, as I cocked my rifle and buckled my helmet tighter, ‘are the Nigerians attacking for real this time?’

‘What kind of stupid question is that?’ He snarled back, squinting into the distance for any signs of a massed infantry charge by the enemy. ‘Does this look like a goddamn fancy dress party?’

The other members of the squad, Segun, Emeka and Charles stared straight ahead with grim faces. This was going to be their first taste of combat since Southern Nigeria seceded from the North some two months back. They were a good bunch; intelligent, friendly fellows who were caught up in a war no one expected and thus had little or no time to adjust to. I could see Emeka’s fingers twitching as he stared down the sight of the heavy machine gun he was manning. I felt sorry for him; he had to leave his wife and two children in the East when our Division was deployed to defend the Northern border at Oyo. He was a former banker with Zenith bank and from what he told us, he was in line for a promotion to branch manager when the secession was declared and all able bodied males were conscripted for the brutal combat that was sure to ensue.

I was jolted out of my reverie by an exploding truck to the left of our position. I grimaced as bodies went tumbling through the air in different directions like ragdogs. The shells were falling thick and fast now and the noise was deafening. I had a brain splitting headache from all the artillery concussions and it seemed the helmet I was wearing only magnified it but I would have had to be suicidal to remove it from my head and risk getting plugged by a bullet.

Suddenly, Emeka yelled in either fury or fright and opened up with the machine gun. I sneaked a peek over the sandbags and saw hundreds of Northern soldiers assaulting our lines. They were shrieking in Hausa or Fulani and running directly at us across the open field which we had previously cleared to create a kill-zone. Our mortars had opened up too and the shells were wreaking havoc in their lines. The enemy soldiers were falling like nine-pins as machine gun bullets and shrapnel decimated their ranks and weakened their charge.

Sergeant Giwa gave the order to open fire when the enemy soldiers were in range. We all opened up on them, firing in short bursts like we were taught in boot camp. I felt sick in my stomach when I saw a man go down after being hit by the bullets from my gun. I wanted to throw my gun down and heave my guts out in revulsion. The knowledge that I had just killed a man was utterly disgusting, even if he was out to take my life too. I was sick of the whole war, barely ten minutes after my involvement in it. I wanted to scream my lungs out and curse the politicians that contributed to the necessity of the war. While we suffered in the open, under the mercy of the elements, eating horrible food and getting ourselves killed, the old fools sat in their mansions and chased after our women.

I felt a tapping on my helmet and turned to see Segun looking at me with concern. I nodded my head grimly and he squeezed my shoulder in reassurance. He turned around and continued shooting at the enemy, his face looking like the angel of death’s as he poured round after round of hot metal into the massed ranks of the enemy infantry.

They were close now; I could see the cold look of hatred in their eyes as they shot as us. Their leaders must have brain-washed them into believing this was a battle of religion, as that is probably the only unifying factor among the Northerners. This bunch of beggars must have been sent as cannon fodder to probe our defences and assess our strength and resolve. They were nearly all gaunt-looking and poorly trained. I looked to my right and saw an enemy soldier cocking his hand, ready to toss a grenade. I shot him through the neck and he slumped to the floor, writhing in agony as he tried to squeeze in some oxygen through his shattered windpipe. The grenade exploded and took down nearly seven men, by my count.

All along our first skirmish line, our troops were repelling the enemy assault successfully. I could sense the enemy attack beginning to falter, the carnage too much for them to bear. It was probably a battalion-sized attack and with the number of men they had lost, the survivors would be hard pressed into forming a company. Suddenly, a whistle blew and the enemy turned tail and started running back to their jump-off lines. We all broke out in cheers and continued firing at their retreating backs, bringing down a good number of them.

‘Cease fire, son.’ Sergeant Giwa advised, ‘save your energy for later. I have a feeling you will need it.’

‘But Sarge, they are on the run!’I replied, in disbelief. ‘We should go after them and completely rout them!’

He shook his head as he checked his weapon. He placed it on an ammunition box and lit a stick of St. Moritz, taking a deep drag and exhaling gratefully, his eyes closed like he was thanking God for sparing him from death. I was going crazy with blood-lust and couldn’t believe we were not allowed to finish off the enemy. I stood there and looked down at the older man in anger for around five minutes, trying to get the adrenaline to stop coursing my head when a loud shout rent our lines and forced me to look up. My eyes widened and I choked down a lump that was forming in my throat.

The enemy was sending another wave of troops. Hundreds of them, With Heavy Battle Tanks!

‘Get ready, son.’ Sergeant Giwa said.

E sorry o English teacher, the satire only came at the end of your rants. You only used it to mask the harsh words.

BAD BELLE PEOPLE JUST WONDER. Im very disappointed at your choice of words, why call people pigs nd even involve parents? No well brought up child does that.

But for the good parenting i got, i would have insulted you and your parrents. We as humans have very different intrest and you should respect people's intrsest as long as it does not interfare with yours.