CHIBOK (COMPLETED)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I'm so sorry for the long time out, I had an exam to write and it took me so much timeto prepare. Well, i'm back now!

It has been said, time and time again, the lunacy that thrives under the influence of the full moon: the sort of lunacy that make the wolves howl on the hills, drive the ocean tides to a frenzy, and summon werewolves to life in Hollywood movies—that gold ore orb, with shadowy, long held secrets dotting its interior as it ricochet the ambient power of God's fiery wheel, or so the scientists say; this they say made the moon look as it did every night, as it did that night—the mother of pearl sailing gracefully across the night sky, a poor, yet, unique mimic of the golden sun.

A convoy of the Nigerian army were about moving through the deserted roads of Kala/Balge returning from what their general commanding officer had termed a 'special operation'. This order was given after tremendous victory over the insurgence earlier that day, and the order was that they return to their base at Maiduguri. An order so urgent, more so, questionable.

The general officer commanding the 13th division had overruled their plea to spend the night in one of the villages and not travel the night back to Maiduguri through the dangerous wilderness, risking exposure to possible Boko Haram attacks. The Major, over the radio told that the top rank in the headquarters would not be pleased if the convoy fails to return to Maiduguri that night. To what end? No one knew. No one dare to question. It was an order.

This still reflected on how little the high rank officers care about their welfare, the last time they checked, they were running out of ammo and the futile search for the abductees had drained the men of energy.

The journey began from the village they'd have wanted to settle in for the night, north east of Chibok.

"Fighting element, Red platoon, Listen up!" the Commander of the second team called out to the men who stood by the vehicles, "The order is to return to Maiduguri." He began, first looking on their faces, quite possibly to ensure that he had their attention, "I say the order is to return safe and sound. This road crawls with undesired elements, so if you ask me if they may want to stick their ass out on our way? I'd say yes. You must keep in mind that these elements are well trained and won't hesitate to send a coroner's report to your families. So again, I say, be on guard, we eliminate any undesirable, aim for the head! The first platoon is ten minutes ahead and we have the third five minutes behind, we move in this formation till further notice. I need not tell you to keep in com! Should any threat be identified, do as I told you!"

The men hollered and turned to the vehicles which comprises of four trucks and a Humvee, which bellowed to life and began motion. Bright halogen head lamps pierced through the dark night, lighting the way around the unfamiliar terrain.

The large Humvee rolled through spearheading the troop, vibrating and clanking before the other vehicles that constituted the convoy. Lieutenant Jang faced an equally tired soldier, his hand hung limply by the truck, but he wasn't asleep, sleep deprived though he was, the tension unvoiced hung on the air and the secret meaning of the commander's order buoyed like a petrifying fog. But Jang had reasons to doubt that the enemy would have any idea about their movement, besides, it was an abrupt order issued minutes ago.

Jang had other issues occupying his mind as he patted a team mate that was examining his automatic rifle, trailing his hand slowly on the cold metal, stroking it over and over again—something the captain does whenever he is deep introspection. Captain Onuh nodded in reply, his brow creased with concern as his hand moved over the M16 again.

Jang stood up through, lifting the yawning lid of the turret over and once again occupied himself with cleaning the M2. 50 calibre machine gun mount on a truck mount which creaked as he turned it aside. He was the turret gunner, the over exposed guy at the vantage point, whohas his gloved hands on the heaviest gun in the platoon; he had the fish eye view of the terrain, felt the cold air that brushed his dried lips and gets himself dusty as well while the commander and other member of his team enjoy the sanctuary of the Humvee's plated glasses, reinforced under carriages and armored doors. He dug a hand to the pouch right above where he kept a magazine, fished out a chocolate bar and chucked it into his mouth.