Ayo: Smack dab in the theatre of insurgency [Nigerian Voices]

by Ayo

We slid across the rough ground on our elbows and thighs, barely raising our helmet protected heads above the trenches. The dry Harmattan winds coursing through our army fatigues like a goldsmith’s bellows. I winced as I planted my elbow on sharp stone. Sweat dripping from my face blurred my vision transiently. I smiled in spite of myself. This was what I always wanted and I was finally living it. I glanced back at Lieutenant Okon; he still wore that death glare. Rumour had it that he had wept like a baby in his wife’s arms when news broke of their deployment to Maiduguri, the epicenter of the insurgency. I suspect many others shared same fear and trepidation, maybe even cried too, but all tried to conceal it. Perhaps I was the only one that could barely wait to be shipped off to the northeast. I also heard about the tales of ethno-religious considerations been a factor in selecting soldiers to the war zone. I was not interested. Besides I was too much of a professional to descend to such depths of mediocrity. Finally, I get to put all those death defying training received at Jaji, to good use.

It was hard to believe four years had fled by. I remember it as clearly as yesterday. As soon as I saw the mail my heart took a kick. I had been waiting months for a feedback. I had applied for the direct short service course into the Nigeria Army. I recall the look mum gave me that day. The sadness was deeply etched on her face. I knew her position on my decision to join the Army. I had given in once by rejecting the chance to join the Defence Academy, I wasn’t going to miss a second opportunity. I could already see myself looking imposing in those green uniforms. There was no denying me this time. The nine months I spent at Jaji, Kaduna state, was as close I came to death without actually dying. The drills were intense and took every ounce of will power to execute. Several years and examinations later a full-fledged Lieutenant of the Nigerian Army was born.

As we rose from the trenches into the open shrub land a wisp of smoke could be seen rising from the trees at the forest fringes. I took cover behind one of the few rocks that dotted the landscape. Others hid behind shrubs or laid belly flat. It was important we remained as tiny a target as possible. Operation “Zaman Lafiya” was far becoming more than just a mop up operation. We knew demons dressed up as men lurked in the thick vegetation that lay ahead. Never imagined anyone could be so dehumanized as to slaughter people like cattle. I had seen it severally but the brutality always evoked the same horror again and again. Those beasts had nothing to live for. We had all to die for but we would rather live to tell our tales of gallantry.

I remembered Nkechi, my sweetheart, fondly as I traced a heart on the rock my AK-47 rested upon. She had offered me the courage and support I needed in those early years in the army. Once I got back from this operation I was going to propose to her.  She was a rare gem quite all right; an exquisite blend of beauty and brains. I could hear the laboured breathing of lieutenant Kayode who had his back against the rock and his firearm pointing skywards. I saw the fear in his eyes but his resolve was unwavering. He feared not for his life but those that he meant the world to. His wedding was in two months. Yet he was prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice if need be. I looked all around me and I swelled with pride. I was in the midst of men of great valour.

The gun shot that broke my reverie was like a thunderbolt, only it sounded like ten times more. The hairs on my neck stood as my fingers closed around the trigger of my rifle. I immediately spotted the source of gunfire; it was about 60 degrees east from my position. Shooting at us first could either mean one of two things: they had heavy reinforcements at that location or to create a diversion. We all readjusted as we returned some unconvincing fire in their general direction. No point wasting ammunition on an unclear target. Captain Hassan who led the group reeled out a couple of non-verbal signals. Lt. Uche immediately peeled off from the rest of the group to embark on some form of reconnaissance. The rest of us held our positions.

My fingers were all sweaty as I maintained high alert. I thought I heard a rustle, as we all remained focused in the direction of gunfire. I shifted my head slightly to give me a better view of our rear. Then I saw it. Like a phantom a head rose from a nearby shrub then the body emerged. It looked like a young man from my position. He was heavily strapped with those explosive devices that had become so commonplace.  He crept slowly towards our group. I was pretty sure no one else had seen him. I wasn’t prepared for this kind of confrontation. We were more at home exchanging fire with an enemy. At this point he was close enough to cause significant damage if he detonated the explosive. Swinging my assault rifle to face him was not appealing option. The movement would certainly spook him into detonating before the bullets hit him. My colleagues were still engaging in sporadic exchange of gunfire. I carefully reached for the backup pistol that nested in my left boot with my right hand while I had him in my peripheral view. Those seconds were the longest of my life.

Like a scene out a crime movie the suicide bomber rose clutching what looked like a detonator in his left hand. In that split second I placed the pistol in my right hand over my left arm, without shifting my position, and fired a single shot at him. Those extra hours dedicated to marksmanship were justified. My petrified colleagues swung round at that point. Nothing as scary as the sound of unexpected gunfire close to your rear. The realisation of what might have been hit flush like cold water in the face. The gunfire from across was the diversion. We immediately retreated from fear of a delayed explosion from the explosive.

We discovered a tunnel at the point the young suicide bomber emerged smartly concealed with shrubs and gravel. Without much ado we blew up the tunnel with dynamite to reveal a significant bunker with food supplies, explosives and the remains of man. This was my baptism of fire in the theatre of insurgency in Borno state. Everyday men of our gallant forces put their lives on the line and make the ultimate sacrifices so that we may all be safe. This is just one of such stories of valour that litter the battlefields.

“Not everyone gets to display exceptional heroics on their first day of combat but in a rare demonstration of courage and bravery you saved your colleagues from certain death”

Those were the words that reverberated as I matched forward to receive the Operation Zaman Lafiya medal of honour.


This entry was submitted as part of the Nigerian Voices competition organized by YNaija.com.

We publish, un-edited, Nigerians telling the stories of their everyday lives. Read all the narratives daily on the Nigerian Voices vertical. You can also contribute your own story titled ‘Nigerian Voices’ to [email protected].

 

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