NO, JIDE!

Ubaji Isiaka Abubakar Eazy

'Kill those burgers!' I shouted as bullets pumped out non-stop from my Semiautomatic. My fellow combatants and I moved deep into the fray while the bomber jets and helicopters kept wrecking havoc on the enemy camp from the sky.

I noticed the pandemonium in the Boko Haram camp, unable to withstand the heat of our whirlwind-like advance, they dropped dead in great numbers while the others took to their heels. We've got to win this war, dammit!

'Fire on guys!' I screamed gleefully at the other soldiers. 'Ensure you leave none of them alive!'

Then I thought I heard someone kick me and shout my name.

'Get up Nkem! Get up, those bastards are here!'

It was the voice of my close friend Jide, I opened my eyes to the realization that I had been dreaming and bullets were flying swiftly over my head!

Quickly, I grabbed my old and rusty AK 47 with very few bullets, took position on one kneel and began firing back at the approaching enemy forces.

Bullets were coming from almost every angle! My mind flashed back to how I came to be in that camp.

We had arrived at that spot the evening before on the road to Mubi. Thinking that a night journey might be fraught with peril (there is always that possibility of being ambushed by the enemy), we decided to camp at a spot a little way off the road till the next day.

'Our sentries must have dozed off! How else could these bastards have gotten so close without being noticed!' Jide spoke out with palpable anger.

I could not reply, fear had installed a virus in my heart. Soldiers were falling to their death all around me. The bullets seem to be coming from everywhere. Where did these Boko Haram marauders get their guns from? Every shot sounded like a bomb explosion as against the knockout sounds from our rusty guns. The government failed to get us good equipment. We could not get much from the barracks so we took what little there was.

Any angle I heard any sound from, I fired at. My ammunition was fast depleting. I tried to concentrate but I was afraid. I saw my death. I was going to die because I could not meet my foe firearm for firearm and I felt hot tears running down my cheeks.

'Aaghh,' Jide suddenly groaned. He had been hit on the chest and had fallen to the ground. I stole furtive glances at him. He was gasping for breath. Then I heard a long whistle blowing three times, it was the captain's. Choruses of 'Retreat! Retreat! Retreat!' rent the air. I tried to pull Jide up but he refused my hands.

'Common buddy, you cannot die here and you know it! Let's go!' I shouted at him.

'I...I...I...don't think I...can make it!' He struggled to say. 'Tell my son...daddy died a gallant soldier. Run Nkem! Run and live!'

'Nonsense,' I replied and tried placing his heavy bulk on my shoulder but he suddenly went limp.

'Jide! Jide! Jideeeeee!' I screamed as a bullet whisked past my left ear narrowly missing my head but slashing off a bit of the earlobe.

'No, Jide! No...No! Nooooo!' I kept screaming as I ran madly with the others towards the direction of the barrack where we had come from.

© Ubaji Isiaka Abubakar Eazy 2017

Meet the Writer

Ubaji Isiaka Abubakar Eazy is a short story writer, a poet, literary critic, reviewer, book editor. He is the Chief Editor at literarycriticsandwriters.simdif.com.