03 Aug 2009 |
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Achilles Oladipo had been named after the famous Greek warrior and deservedly so as he came from a long line of warriors on both sides of his family. His maternal Great Grand Father had been an archer in the Great Army of the Oba of Benin, and had been repeatedly decorated before dying bravely during that fateful night when the Kingdom was finally razed by the British Army. Meanwhile on his Fathers side, not one but two of his great Uncles had ridden in the tip of Usman Danfodio’s Calvary while his own Grand Father had served as a Maxim gunner for Lord Lugard’s Hausas. Mars himself could not have asked for better genes. As expected Achilles was groomed to be, and excelled as a soldier. From Cadet to young NCO he blossomed never falling lower than third in his Class and most impressively winning the top marksman in the entire Academy not once, but twice. The future looked bright as one anticipated an invitation to the War College in preparation for life as an Officer in one specialized wing of the Nigerian Army. But then he met and married Ada the daughter of an Igbo Snuff trader in his hometown of Jos, and in 1960 that was the equivalent of committing professional suicide. The whispers of “Nyamiri lover” became more pronounced just as he was passed over and over again for promotions that just a year ago, would have been etched in stone. Even though the marriage eventually caved in-collapsing under the prejudice from both sides-Achilles career never recovered and eventually he found himself relegated to ordinary duty by being embedded deep in the belly of the Nigerian war machine as a NCO in the 3rd Marine Commandoes. To understand the Marine Commandoes and its evolution, it is best if one also understands the German SS before and after Hitler because their stories are similar as peas in the same pod. Before Hitler the SS consisted of arguably the regions best and most professional soldiers. But with the arrival of the Nazi’s Himmler created two new Battalions namely the SS Germania and SS Deutschland and these murderous criminals would forever tarnish the reputation of the one proud fighting force by becoming the Fuehrer’s indiscriminate executioners.
Such was the very scenario we were now facing on the ground in Nekede namely a marriage of oil and water. Achilles the ultimate professional was now leading people whom he considered to be nothing more than a bunch of thugs in uniform on a scouting mission that rumor suggested, had come from Adekunle’s very tent itself. Initially a hand picked squad of ten, they had been decimated by friendly fire from the Air that first evening as a roving MIG of the NAF had misidentified them as Biafran’s, and repeatedly raked their lines with cannon despite them flashing the Red torch lights as directed. Just like that not even properly out of the gates, they had been reduced to three.; but considering the importance of the mission at hand had pressed on. The remnants now consisted of Olu -an Ox of a man who just months ago had been wearing the inverted arrow uniform of the Nigerian Prison system in Akure identifying him as murderer - who carried the communication equipment as well as the Bren. And then there was Musa, the quiet but mischievous ex school teacher who handled the Nikon spotter’s scope and also carried the extra ammunition for the Bren. The initial plan was brilliant in its simplicity and even now despite the set back, with some luck could still work. . They would enter the man made moat now overgrown with bougainvillea, that ran behind the School of Agriculture and wade miles down it’s muddy contents in total silence hoping to resurface at the back of the Owerri Girls Secondary School campus. By now they would have by passed the myriad of Biafran lookouts or “OP’s” as they were called. From there they would take over the grand Cathedral in stealth and set up an observation post in it’s famous dome over looking Holy Ghost College all the way down to into downtown itself. It would only be a matter of time that with the aid of the Nikon magnifier Scope, they would not only be able to identify the dreaded mobile Buffors of the enemy, but their ammunition dump as well and call in precise fire from ground and air. With the opposition now leveled they would now be able to direct Adekunle’s mechanized convoy that would be laying in wait near Emmanuel College with the precision that they lacked so far, and carve the city into 2 by roaring up the Okigwe road towards Nkwerre and Orlu and hopefully bring Biafra to her knees once and for all. Achilles stepped gingerly forward combing the ground in front of him and looking for a tell tale sign that suggested it had been tampered with. With his left hand he angrily waved for Musa to catch up. The latter was ankle deep in mud and struggling to keep up. But it would not matter anymore. All of a sudden there was the familiar mechanical clap of an AK on semi, you know like a typewriter gone wild. Musa’s upper body virtually blew out back wards in tattered ribbons and a cloud red mist. Motioning for Olu to take cover he ducked immediately behind an uprooted Palm tree moments before something hot and angry whizzed by his helmet. And then there was silence.
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Fast forward into the future and to the Nigerian Civil and to a place called Ore where incomprehensibly the Biafran war machine idles after it’s own version of the Blitz Krieg and is poised to advance towards the Federal Capital Lagos. There is mass panic as throughout the West we witness the full scale conscription of every able bodied man to be thrown against the Biafran “horde”. Prisons are opened, and even mental institutions cleaned out as everyone found is folded into the 3MC which now grows in size just as it depreciates in quality. So just like in Germany decades ago, again proud professionals are paired up with the dregs of society and again History would soon judge both as one. 
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