The Soldier’s Sacrifice with Scars

Armed Forces Remembrance Day (Nigeria),

Honouring the brave men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice in battle. …But what happens after the tributes and tears?

It’s a beautiful evening, a masterpiece of enchantment that screams peace from the warmth of its breathtaking and colourful celestial displays,

the sweet melodic serenade of crickets with their soothing harmonious sound that enveloped the surroundings,

and the scent of the blooming flowers that danced at the sound of the breeze, transporting their delicate fragrance which I breathed in a realm of serenity and peace.

It’s been a long while since I experienced this atmosphere.

What a joy and relief!

2 Timothy 2:3 KJV

[3] Thou therefore endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.
https://bible.com/bible/1/2ti.2.3.KJV

As I trudged towards home, my weary body sagged under the weight of my bag that was slung over my right shoulder.

My scuffed boots and faded army uniform told the tale of countless battles fought and won.

Yet, despite the exhaustion etched on my face, a spark of relief flickered within me.

I was heading home, to the warmth of my loved ones, and the fleeting promise of peace.

But I knew it was a temporary reprieve – the call to duty could come at any moment, summoning me back to the front lines.

The Soldier’s Sacrifice with Scars

The silence surrounding my house was almost deafening, a stark contrast to the laughter and brightness I usually brought home.

Each time I departed for duty, I cheated death, returning to my wife and daughter after years of fighting on distant borders, protecting our nation from the shadows of terror.

“Daddy!” The familiar cry pierced the air, and my heart swelled with joy.

My eight-year-old daughter, Grace, had spotted me from afar,

her bright eyes shining like stars as she stood beside her mother, who was busy preparing dinner.

With a squeal of delight, Grace sprinted towards me, her tiny arms outstretched, and her radiant smile illuminating her adorable face.

As she launched herself into my arms, I felt a surge of love, her tight hug threatening to suffocate me with happiness.

“I missed you, Daddy!” she exclaimed, her tiny face buried in the crook of my shoulder.

“I miss you too, my love,” I whispered back, struggling to contain the emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.

But my radiant smile betrayed my attempts at composure,

revealing the unbridled joy that swelled in my heart at the sight of my precious daughter and wife.

As I carried Grace alongside my heavy bag, her weight was a welcome counterbalance to the burden I had shouldered for so long.

With her snuggled close, my load felt lighter, my heart full.

“My, my, someone’s being possessive!” my wife teased, laughing as she watched our daughter cling to me like a wrapper tied around my waist.

Grace had grown utterly fond of me, often nudging her mother aside to claim her spot.

But as much as she’d wrapped herself around my heart, I knew I had enough love to go around.

My wife joined in, wrapping her arms around us both, and I felt my heart overflow with so much love and joy.

She didn’t mind sharing me with our daughter, knowing she’d have me all to herself later at night… in the other room. I couldn’t wait.

As I set my daughter down, she gazed up at me with sparkling eyes and asked the regular question:

“What did you bring for me, Daddy?”

It was a ritual I cherished to always arrive home with a surprise hidden behind my back, teasing her curiosity and fueling her anticipation.

In the past, it might be a cuddly teddy bear, a stash of chocolates, or some other treasure.

This time, her gaze locked onto my hidden left hand, and she took a guess:

“Did you get me the Cinderella dress I’ve been wanting?” Her face shone with excitement.

I should have mirrored my daughter’s excitement, but instead, a shadow of sadness crept over my face.

The Soldier’s Sacrifice with Scars

My wife’s eyes narrowed, sensing the sudden shift in my mood.

“Is everything okay, honey?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

I locked gazes with her and our daughter, slowly revealing my left hand.

The anticipation in my daughter’s eyes dissolved as she took in the sight of my broken hand.

The injury, a souvenir from one of the wars I had fought, had put an end to our special surprise ritual.

I couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment,

knowing I couldn’t continue the tradition that had always brought joy to the face of my family each time I returned home.

My daughter’s face crumpled as she took in the sight of my injured hand.

She burst into tears and ran back into the house, overcome with emotion.

My wife, on the other hand, had steeled herself for this moment.

She wrapped her arms around me, tears streaming down her face.

As a soldier’s wife, she had prepared herself for the worst, knowing that every deployment carried the risk of injury or loss.

Despite her emotional nature, she had learned to bear the pain and uncertainty that came with loving a soldier,

bearing the burden of my struggles alongside me.

“You must be exhausted, my love. Come, let’s get you some rest. We’re just grateful you’re home safe with us,”

my wife said, carrying my bags and guiding me into the house.

As we stepped inside, I saw my daughter slumped on the couch, her head buried in her folded arm, tears streaming down her face.

I walked over to her, gently lifting her with my right arm, and sat down beside her.

and I cradled her head against my chest, letting her tears soak into my shirt.

To her, I was a hero, a soldier who fought for our country.

But she was still young, unaware of the sacrifices that came with wearing this uniform.

I believe that as she grows older, she will come to understand the weight of my duty.

The Soldier’s Sacrifice with Scars

People often say that our country isn’t worth fighting for, but we soldiers put our lives on the line every day to protect it.

Recently, our nation observed Armed Forces Remembrance Day, honouring the brave men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice in battle.

The sombre occasion was a harsh reality check, highlighting the sacrifices we’ve made.

But what happens after the tributes and tears?

We’re soon forgotten, and the nation returns to its routine, leaving us to feel overlooked and underappreciated.

While we acknowledge that the army provided us with life-changing opportunities for growth and travel,

our relentless fight against terrorism has led us to question our career choice time and again.

If alternative prospects were available, many of us would not hesitate to leave military service.

Moreover, we cannot in good conscience encourage our children or relatives to follow in our footsteps,

given the deprivation of our entitlements and the lack of tangible benefits for our families despite our sacrifices on the battlefield.

From the moment we got enlisted, we were made to feel expendable, as if our lives were already forfeit.

It’s a harsh reality we’ve learnt to accept.

As a rank-and-file soldier, I’ve been repeatedly deployed to combat terrorism, without reprieve.

Unlike some of our more connected colleagues, who manage to evade such assignments due to their ties with senior officials, we have no say in our deployments.

We’re often sent out without regard for our previous assignments, leaving us to bear an unfair burden.

Without influential connections within the military brass or political elite, we’re left to carry the weight of our duties alone.

The wars we fought were far from justified.

They were baseless conflicts driven by selfish political interests and ambitions, which could have been resolved through diplomacy to spare countless civilian lives.

The Soldier’s Sacrifice with Scars

But do those in power truly care about the lives of innocent civilians, let alone ours?

The irony is stark:

some of the terrorists we were sent to combat were actually sponsored by elements within our own government, who were supposed to have our best interests at heart.

Meanwhile, we were on the front lines, fighting and dying, while they indulged in the luxuries of their mansions.

It’s no wonder that some soldiers are forced to accept bribes from terrorists, a reality often sensationalized in the media as military corruption.

But how can we expect soldiers to remain loyal when they’re underpaid, undervalued, and sometimes left to survive on delayed salaries?

The military’s greatest problem is its mistreatment and insincerity towards its own.

After four years on the frontline, I returned home feeling discarded and unvalued.

Without recognition or support, the thrill of service is lost.

Our country’s rehabilitation program for returning soldiers is woefully inadequate, leaving us feeling betrayed and abandoned.

Personal tragedies, such as the loss of loved ones and the breakdown of marriages, only exacerbate these issues.

I’m fortunate to have a devoted wife, but some of my colleagues haven’t been as lucky – their partners have moved on.

The frustration is crushing, and for some, suicide seems like the only escape.

But does it even matter? We’re expendable, mere cannon fodder from the moment we joined the military.

How Ironic!

Some members of the terrorist groups we’re fighting against actually hold positions of power within our own government.

They’re embedded in the executive, legislative, and judicial branches, influencing policy and decisions.

Moreover, some have even infiltrated our armed forces, police, and other security agencies.

The absurdity is glaring: we’re essentially at war with ourselves.

The civil war was brutal, but at least we knew our enemy and could anticipate their movements.

However, today’s reality is far more insidious.

Our enemies are no longer just external forces; they’re also embedded within our own society, even holding positions of power.

The lines have become disturbingly blurred.

Terrorists now wield more sophisticated and powerful weaponry than us, the military.

It’s a perverse reversal: terrorists have become the better-equipped force, while we’ve been reduced to fighting with inferior arms.

The irony is even more staggering.

It’s unconscionable that the government would release over 2,000 so-called ‘repentant’ terrorists through its ‘Operation Safe Corridor’ program.

These are the same terrorists we’ve shed blood to fight.

What criteria did the government use to determine their supposed repentance?

Why are these individuals exempt from facing justice like other criminals?

Meanwhile, the widows of soldiers killed by these terrorists continue to mourn, with their numbers growing daily.

The release of these terrorists is a slap in the face to the families of fallen soldiers and undermines the sacrifices made by those who have fought against them.

It’s appalling that when influential individuals are detained by the army for alleged ties to Boko Haram, politicians intervene to secure their release.

The National Assembly receives messages warning that unless these individuals are freed, they won’t receive votes.

This has created a corrupt system where military commanders and politicians engage in a lucrative trade, collecting millions of naira in exchange for the release of suspects.

The amount charged varies depending on the severity of the alleged crimes, with top suspects costing as much as 15-20 million naira per person.

These shady transactions involve politicians from state and federal levels, as well as high-ranking military officers responsible for war operations and logistics.

This corrupt practice perpetuates a culture of impunity and further erodes trust in the justice system.

The Soldier’s Sacrifice with Scars

The atrocities we faced were unimaginable.

Terrorists would douse some of my colleagues with acid, leaving their bodies charred and decaying.

We’d wrap their remains in blankets, often with maggots infesting their flesh.

The conditions were so dire that we couldn’t even keep them in the morgue.

Many had suffered gruesome injuries from bomb blasts, missing limbs, and severe trauma.

Also, some didn’t die from bullets, but from hunger and exhaustion in the treacherous terrain.

I recall a haunting incident where we found a soldier sitting under a tree, dead, with his hands still clasped on his rifle.

The image is forever etched in my memory.

The trauma was overwhelming—some of my colleagues were driven to madness as a result.

Others suffered physical scars, including blindness from the intense fires and deafness from the relentless gunfire that became our constant, ear-shattering alarm.

What’s even more heartbreaking is the gross underreporting of casualties.

Despite hundreds of soldiers losing their lives, military authorities would announce a drastically lower number, often eight or fewer.

This blatant distortion of truth raises a disturbing question: what are they trying to cover up?

I’m consumed by a deep sense of sorrow, even for those who have made the ultimate sacrifice.

It’s as if they’re forgotten, their memories discarded like yesterday’s trash.

These were brave men and women who laid down their lives for our country.

Yet, within months of their passing, their salaries are stopped, their families are left to suffer, and their loved ones are reduced to begging for food.

Their wives! Children! Mothers! Fathers! Younger ones! All benefitting nothing from the sacrifice of their dead soldiers.

As for us, the surviving soldiers, we’re losing hope.

We’re starting to make plans for a life outside the military, and once those plans come to fruition, we’ll be gone.

It’s clear that our well-being and that of our loved ones are of no concern to those in power.

Also, I want to highlight one financial burden we’ve had to bear.

Often, we’ve had to dip into our own pockets to purchase additional boots and uniforms,

as the standard issue ones were woefully inadequate and wouldn’t last us up to a full two years.

What’s even more disheartening is that not all soldier fatalities occur on the battlefield.

Some have lost their lives in road traffic accidents, while others have been brutally murdered by armed robbers on the roads.

At times, we’re not permitted to carry our weapons on some journeys. This leaves us vulnerable to such attacks.

What’s worse is that communication with our families has been severely hindered in the marginalized areas where we’re fighting terrorists.

The terrorists have destroyed communication infrastructure in many areas, making it impossible for us to easily reach out to our loved ones.

To make matters worse, we often had to resort to climbing telecommunication masts just to make a call.

This precarious method was our only means of communication for several months, putting our lives and mission at risk.

The emotional toll was immense.

Our families would assume the worst, thinking we had been killed in action, adding to the emotional burden we already carried.

The Soldier’s Sacrifice with Scars

Soldiers deserve better.

While people often perceive us as tough and resilient,

the truth is that we are vulnerable and emotional beings who deeply feel the struggles and losses we’ve endured.

We’re not as hardened as you might think; we are humans who have willingly sacrificed ourselves for the love of our nation.

Our sacrifices can never be fully repaid, but we deserve to be treated with dignity, respect, and gratitude.

We deserve to be celebrated and appreciated, not just occasionally, but always.

As rank-and-file soldiers on the front lines, our voices are frequently silenced.

The military culture often prioritizes discipline and camaraderie over transparency, fostering an atmosphere of silence that persists even in cases of extreme abuse.

This self-imposed censorship stems from our vulnerable position and fear of retaliation.

These are the largely untold struggles of ordinary soldiers like myself in my country.

“Daddy, are you still going to leave us?”

my daughter asked, lifting her head from my chest, and wiping away her tears as she sought comforting answers.

I was lost for words.

Seeing the distress in her eyes after crying over my broken left hand, I gently stroked her head with my right hand and helped her drift off to sleep.

“I’m so sorry, Grace,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face as she slept peacefully, surrounded by an unsettling silence.

Also Read: Just Wait For The Sun – Diademng

The Soldier’s Sacrifice with Scars