A Requiem for Benji

"What was it about Benji that endeared him to us?" Power asked, looking around the dirty, sullen faces of the emasculated men gathered around the fire.

"Was it his boldness, or was it equanimity? Was it his youthful exuberance? Perhaps it was his cheerfulness and the way he made you forget your problems through sheer pureness of heart and positivity.

"You were all there on the eve of Christmas when we crossed over the Afam river. Benji carried on his head, the Ogbunigwe. If this were a different crowd, I would explain to them how that bomb could wipe out an entire village. But you are you and you have all seen the work of Ogbunigwe. But what you could not have known was that as we walked through the forest, cutting the climbing plants as carefully as possible as not to leave a trail that the enemy may follow, that bomb fell from Benji's head. I watched him freeze as I was beside him. He closed his eyes and waited for the blast that would be the end of him and his comrades. But the blast did not come because the bomb fell into the shallow river. Without a word to any person and without any sign of fear whatsoever, Benji, fished out the old fabric he had used as a pad for his head, wrung water from it, placed it back on his head and asked me to help him lift the bomb onto his head once more. Our Benji was a courageous man. "Any animal that could bite the tiger to death is sure a biter.""

Lieutenant Power, the platoon commander paused to hold back the tears that threatened to run down his cheeks before he continued.

"I came to this war because I was told that the scholarship which the state had granted people like me would be withdrawn for those of us that refused to be drafted. When I went to talk to my dad about it, I expected some level of trepidation on his part but he was surprisingly calm. And he told me a story about a man that was afraid to die in the war so he went into his room and hid under his bed. When the missile launcher came, it dropped a missile that went through the roof, ceiling, mattress and bed to kill him where he was hiding. In his view, the outcome of a war could not be avoided no matter where you hide. In Benji's case, I think we can all agree that he would still be alive if there was no war," he said.

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As Power talked, the other members of the platoon sat and smoked marijuana which they passed from one person to another until it finished. This was how they conducted the funeral of their fallen brothers, some of whose bodies, like Benji's were unrecovered. As the night turned to morning, they each slept off in their camouflage.

The Nigerian soldiers had received intelligence on the location of the 125th Biafran platoon through the help of a saboteur from the South-South region. The Nigerian army planned an ambush that they hoped would obliterate the platoon and bolster their advancement towards taking Nnewi. It was not yet daylight when the Nigerian army flanked the position where the Biafran soldiers made camp. Unknown to the Nigerian soldiers, there was a depression in the geography of where the 125th platoon camped and they were well barricaded from gunfire. One of the members of the 125th had awoken early to go to the toilet a little off from camp when he heard the approach of the Nigerian soldiers.

He had to think and act fast, so he moved stealthily away from the direction of the approach of the Nigerian soldiers. He moved downhill and undressed, then soiled his body with muddy water from a small pond of water nearby. He ran up the hill more as he ran up the hill he let off some shots from his Madison and subsequently threw the gun into the thick bush. He remembered the day he saw his class teacher on the road while playing truant from school. It was a one-way street and it was impossible to run away because the man was almost on him. He hid behind a much taller man and folded one of his trouser legs, smeared his face with dust and by the time his teacher saw him, he had transformed himself into an imbecile dripping saliva, walking with a limp with one stiff arm.

The stakes were less when it was just between him and his Mr Ufere. Now he had to do the same trick for trigger-happy armed soldiers. Even though the stakes were higher, the other conditions were still the same. If he tried to run back to camp without shooting his gun, the soldiers would catch up to him and he would be dead. But because he shot it, his platoon member had a chance of escaping death from the heavily-armed Nigerian soldiers and if they bought his performance, he might just live to see another day. No matter the outcome, he did not have any choice and at that moment, his time was up, the soldiers were upon him. He was walking towards them, his left hand folded and held up to his side, just above his armpit, as he pointed his right hand towards the direction from which he had just shot his gun to warn his men. The two scouting soldiers looked at him dripping saliva, walking towards them. They were moved to pity as they took in the naked man, his frail-looking body and ribs that were almost on the surface of his skin. One of them held out one hand and ordered, "Stop right there. Where are you coming from?"

The imbecile uttered some gibberish that they could not quite make out. They took it that he was lost and motioned him to move forward. By the time the Nigerian soldiers arrived the Biafran platoon camp, there was nothing left there but little signs that some people were there recently. The soldiers spread out and searched the bush but there was no sign of the Biafran soldiers. The group leader ordered his men to take the imbecile with them to the camp. Two men approached him and were about to tie him up when the captain asked to let him walk free, "The man can barely carry himself, let alone attack someone or run," he said.

It did not take long before the new location of the Biafran platoon arrived once more through the normal channels. The Nigerian soldiers found that the imbecile they had arrested was not completely useless as they had previously thought: he could wash plates, make fire, polish boots and perform other minor tasks. They put him to work. He was outside the captain's tent polishing shoes when he heard of the plan to raid the camp of some Biafran soldiers. The soldiers often held conversations in his presence, thinking he was too slow to comprehend what they said. The imbecile worked very hard to maintain his cover but when he heard the plan to ambush his fellow soldiers, he knew he could no longer stay in custody. He needed to leave but he waited.

At midnight, when all was quiet and the only soldiers awake were the ones keeping watch, the imbecile went slowly to part of the camp that was farthest from the night watch. He climbed down some rocks and gently lowered himself down the cliff where he landed on two feet making a thumping sound. He listened for any sign of being followed, but the night was as still as ever. He navigated the forest, trying to retrace his steps to the point where he had dropped his gun more than a week ago but it was too dark and he had limited time to reach the Biafran camp.

"Stop right there and raise your hands where I can see them," said Corporal Sunday Daniel, the soldier watching the South side of the camp. The imbecile complied with the order but kept walking towards the entrance of the camp. Then suddenly Sunday recognized him and made a sign of the cross.

"Who the hell are you?" Corporal Daniel asked in trepidation.

"You know who I am," Benji answered. "Please, put down the gun and take me to Lieutenant Power."

"But we thought you were dead," he said.

"Obviously, I'm not," he said and kept walking wearing only briefs as if he was dressed in some form of royal regalia.

Power and the rest of the crew surrounded Benji and they planned how to outsmart their opposition once and for all. All their plans worked out the next few hours and there was one less Nigerian army group in pursuit of 125th platoon. The war still took the life of Benji and many others but he lived to see the eulogy of his friends and it was one hell of a eulogy.