Five Seahawk military helicopters swung in lower over the dense vegetation of Sambisa
Forest Reserve, the estimated time of our arrival (E.T.A) would be 00:12 West
African Time. The intelligence units had given us the precise coordinates to be
11.53333°N and 13.3333°E North East Nigeria. Our
mission was simple: infiltrate base, nullify terrorist resistance and extract
living hostages at all costs with as minimal casualties as possible.
Soon enough the aircraft hatchway opened and we began our 45,000ft jump
into the middle of hostile territory; Boko Haram camp. The night was pitch
black and the cold wind blew strongly against my face but like my fellow
commandos I remained silent and adjusted my breathing to freefall. This mission
was every bit as important to us as the hundreds of girls in captivity, stealth
was key to its success.
As we approached ground surface, we pulled our rip cords and let the
feeling of weightlessness take over as our parachutes opened, gliding us over
the dense treetops of the massive savannah vegetation. My parachute got stuck
in an elongated branch; no worries, I used my Swiss army knife to cut it out
and slid down the broad stem of the tree bark landing perfectly on my boots.
Minutes later our unit converged at the designated spot, few kilometers
from the main terrorist camp. Up until now our mission had gone accordingly as
planned. I radioed HQ and informed them; so far so good.
The camp was actually a winding open space in the middle of the forest
partly fortified by high brick walls and several trees which was surprising
because we expected more in terms of fortification. We approached the main
rampart of the camp, and deployed a Y-shaped military surround strategy about
the walls of the base. While my unit (A team) was tasked with search and rescue
of the hostages, B team was mainly to engage and neutralize hostile entities.
By now our night vision goggles had been activated and the first enemy
casualty was a heavily bearded man in native jalabiya. I
gunned him down with my silenced automatic and he dropped with an inaudible
thump at his post. As we proceeded, crouch-running and holding our rifles at
eye-level, we neutralized more unsuspecting threats along our path.
Minutes later we identified what could be the holding base for hostages
(a very long heavily guarded tent) and approached it with caution. It was
almost beginning to look too easy- at least I thought- that was until someone
in B team triggered off some kind of alarm system (probably a booby trap). The
whole jungle lit up and an electronic siren began to go off intermittently.
Shit had hit the fan!
Immediately, the calm of the forest was disturbed by sporadic gun fire,
the all too familiar sound of several AK-47’s vying for attention. Our units
replied heavily with more superior gunfire and explosions rocked either side of
the camp. We had to shift to plan B; we had expected and prepared for it anyway
but I hoped to God that we wouldn’t be needing plan D…
Stealth was no longer an option; but the element of surprise had taken
us this far though. Now we were in full enemy combat mode and finding the girls
amidst the utter chaos was what mattered. I asked three team mates to cover me
from aerial shots while I ran and entered the suspected holding tent. What I
saw inside would haunt me the rest of my life.
I have done several tours in Afghanistan, Liberia, Congo, Mali and
Guinea. I have seen it all, the horror and bitterness of war death and even
been confronted with the dilemma of having to protect myself against a high child-soldier
wielding a loaded machine gun (don’t ask me how that ended) but seeing those
hopeless emaciated girls in the tent that night drained me. It was a gut
buster.
An almajiri with a knife threw himself at me and lunged
the blade in my face. I grabbed his frail arm and broke it in four
places aikido style before tugging him by the beard and
breaking his neck. It was that easy.
I neutralized two other guards with my rifle and speared a third with
the same knife his brother tried to stab me with. My aim was
accurate, it pierced his cornea and partly exited his head pinning him to the
tent pole. He died quickly, his face contorted in a horrific expression.
I radioed HQ and informed them of our exact location for back-up, then
ordered ten alfa commandos to guard the holding tent because moving the girls
right now would be suicidal I reasoned. Outside the tent, B team had managed to
subjugate several hostiles and were trying to identify prime terrorist Shekau,
(code name Houdini) which was as easy as separating salt from
sand; their shaggy beards weren’t helping.
By the time C team commandos showed up, Sambisa games reserve had become
a flaming forest. The conflagration lit up the Maiduguri skyline and what was
once a calm vegetative haven for terrorists had been turned into a fiery mess
of crackling trees strewn with bodies of the terrorists. The hostages, all 276
of them were guided into waiting HH-60G Pave Hawks, about fifteen aircrafts
deployed for special rescue missions. Some were in terrible shape and had to be
stretchered while five girls sadly were already pregnant.
The time on my GPS watch read 00:54. The whole operation had taken 42
minutes.
When the last of the rescue jets had left, a set of apache copters
strafed the forest area with missiles one more time for good measure. Hopefully
it’s the last time the place would be used for such an activity. I checked with
my unit and confirmed seven injured and one in grave condition. It was not
until our aircraft touched military base that I began to feel dizzy. I put my
hand to my side; it was a soaked patch of red, I had been hit. When I stepped
out of the jet my legs wobbled and I fell.
“Morale! Morale!!”
It was my deputy commander; he rushed forward to catch me.
I didn’t feel the ground when I collapsed, I was already suffering from
shock; but I smiled weakly through my dark aviator shades.
What did it matter? We had brought back our girls…
Have you read about Morale before now? Read here if you haven't.
