The Struggle for Secession, 1966-1970

A Personal Account of the Nigerian Civil War

Ntieyong U. Akpan

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2014
• Print ISBN:
  9780714629308
• eBook ISBN:
  9781317792314
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: World History
• Index: History

First published in 1972. This volume includes a personal recounting of events during the Nigerian Civil War, by the author who was the Chief Secretary of the Government in Biafra 1967. The second edition includes a preface that answers questions about the author's warnings and lessons for the future Africa and his reflections on the disappearance of Nigeria from news and media since the war.

SECTION III

THE PERIOD OF CIVIL WAR

7 The War Rages

Secession, of course, made civil war in Nigeria inevitable. Both sides knew this and were duly prepared for it. General Gowon would have done himself and his office dishonour and Africa disservice if he had not made even an attempt to put down a rebellion which was bound ultimately to cause a total disintegration of the country, and probably set a dangerous pattern and precedent for other countries of the African continent, all of which, without exception, are heterogeneous in character and sensitive in politics and internal relationships.

A fight with the North was, as we saw in the Introduction of this book, what the vast majority of the Ibos wanted. Secession, regarded as an end in itself, was also intended by those in control to provoke a military confrontation with the Hausas (i.e. Northerners)—for they were the ones who had made themselves enemies of the East by killing Easterners. For a long time the East had been doing its utmost to stress the distinction. Indeed, when the war started it was regarded mainly as a confrontation between the North and East.

Thus, in the early hours of July 6th, 1967 the Federal troops crossed into the East from three points in the North. The strategy of the East had succeeded. The Federal Government had started the war, and the East was doing no more than defending itself: a natural reaction. I have described in the Introduction the joy and excitement with which the news of the Federal invasion was received and welcomed everywhere. To the Biafrans, this was their moment. Boys left their schools and the university in large numbers for enlistment in the army, women offered to abandon their occupations in order to cook for the army, and so on. All those who had offered to fight and avenge the killings of 1966 were regarded as heroes, whose names would be immortalised in the history of Biafra.

One thing, however, was clear from the start of the tragic conflict—each side grossly under-rated the ability and determination of the other. The Federal Government regarded the affair as a matter for police action, a quick surgical operation, which would last only a short time. A leading Federal military man predicted that all would be over in forty-eight hours—but it was nearly that long before the Federal Government even announced that military action had started. Later, the Federal assessment was that the operation would last two weeks.

The Easterners, on the other hand, believed that they would win. They did not think that the Northerners would have much stomach for a fight and might not even know why they were fighting. The idea of Nigerian unity would not fire the imagination of the Northerners who had never really believed in such a concept. After all, was it not because of attempts to unite the country that they had unleashed the “pogrom”? As for the Easterners, they had everything to stimulate their will to fight. They were fighting because they had been intolerably wronged; they were fighting to sustain their independence; they were fighting for survival. The assessment of the Eastern Military Governor was that the war would last three months, and this alarmed many who considered such a period too long. None of those who had been urging a fight knew what a modern war involved. They were reckoning in terms of old tribunal or group war lasting at most four days, beginning each day in the morning and ending in the evening, and in which achievement would be assessed by the number of those counted dead in the field from the other side.

Within the first few days the Federal troops had overrun Ogoja, which was the first shock. But that was war; they would soon be cleared of the place. According to reports, the Federal troops had not been able to cross the border north of Nsukka—on the contrary, Biafran troops had actually made some gains. But these, if they were actually made at all, did not last. The Federal troops introduced Ferrets and armoured vehicles, and made lightning crossings into Nsukka. Against these weapons of war the Biafrans had no answer. No anti-tank weapons were included in the arms which had been received and were still arriving. This was the first demoralising disappointment to the Biafran officers who had all along been assured by governor Ojukwu that everything was there.

The one advantage which the Biafrans had over the Federal troops was the lone B.26 bomber and half a dozen helicopters. Although these helped to slow down Federal advance, they had no effect on the Ferrets and armoured vehicles. Efforts were directed to the destruction of these Ferrets and armoured vehicles which were proving such a scourge to the Biafran troops, practically all of whom were raw and inexperienced except for the group who had taken part in the January 1966 coup. These had been incarcerated by the first Military Government. It had been part of Col. Ojukwu’s calculating strategy that the Federal Government had been induced to keep as many of them as possible in prisons in the East, so that later he might have them released and fêted as heroes. There were a few Yorubas among them, including Lt. Col. Banjo, who had the preferential treatment of being invited to live in the State House with the Governor. All of these were thrown into battle, although the suspicious Ojukwu was at first very wary; Major Nzeogwu for instance was not given a command.

As the situation worsened on the Nsukka front, both Nzeogwu and Banjo were allowed to help, but their duty was to lead raids at night against the Federal troops with the principal aim of blowing up the vicious and all-menacing Ferrets and Saladins. It had now been accepted that the Biafran soldiers could not withstand the Federal troops with conventional methods of warfare. The enemy was on our soil and we ought to know the geography of our land better than strangers. We ignored, as was often the case during the tragedy, obvious facts. The Nsukka area had been a training ground for Nigerian troops resident in Enugu. It was here that most of the exercises and practice took place. Most of these troops were Northerners who naturally were amongst those now leading the offensive. Night forays and sniping were for some time the principal tactics of the Biafran troops, not without some successes and effects. It was during one of those forays and incursions that Nzeogwu and Christopher Okigbo, along with Ojukwu’s own brother, were killed.

The Federal troops had by this time occupied the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, which, with its buildings and vantage position, provided an impregnable barrier to Biafran military activities whether by night or day. But this the Biafran Commander-in-Chief would not readily admit, although he knew it to be a fact. “Blow up the whole place. Saladins and Ferrets are blind at night; so what you need is sufficient courage and will to approach them at night and with molotov cocktails or hand grenades blow them up.” With what could the Biafran troops blow up the buildings at Nsukka? At that time they did not even have mortars and mortar bombs. Saladins and Ferrets are blind at night. Agreed. But all that this meant was that they could not operate at night. Was it to be believed that they would be left unprotected and undefended by the Federal troops at night, to enable our troops go close enough to blow them up with molotov cocktails, or maybe stones, and come back alive? Though not a military man, I knew that the troops did not at that time have more than a few hand grenades. But the Governor would not accept valid reasons for not doing what he wanted done. He charged the officers with cowardice and worse.

Eventually the Federal troops started to move out of Nsukka towards Enugu. Within twenty-four hours of that move they had captured the strategic Opi junction, almost regarded at the time by the Biafrans as the “Maginot line”. It was the greatest disaster so far. For the previous few days, impressions had been given, and hopes had risen, that the Biafran troops were about to clear the enemy from Nsukka and advance into the North. The tragedy was made worse by the fact that, only a few days before, we had received for the first time a few armoured French-made vehicles. A number of these had been put into the Opi operations, and were virtually all captured or destroyed. Scapegoats had to be found for the disaster, because everything had been so sure about the recapture of Nsukka. It could not be anything else but sabotage, and what better and more credible evidence could be found for this than that the person who commanded the Biafran troops in the Opi area was a non-Ibo, a Col. Okon. That explained it. “We have always known that these people are not with us.” “Why on earth did anyone consider him fit to be given charge of such a vital junction?” Many were heard saying this. “He should be shot. I am prepared to do the shooting myself, if men will not,” a woman said to my face, with the clear insinuative reminder that the culprit was my brother by ethnicity. Poor Okon. What happened in fact was that the Biafran soldiers, at the sight of the advancing Federal troops, threw away their arms and ran, abandoning their commander who was nearly captured.

Whether Col. Ojukwu accepted the explanation given by Col. Okon, who had been arrested and brought down to Enugu, one cannot say. But Okon was not shot for sabotage, most likely because the Governor did not want to offend the Ibibios so soon after the shooting and killing in cold blood of a young Ibibio by an Ibo civil defender, as has earlier been mentioned. The suspicion turned to those in the group who had taken part in the January 15th coup. No one was convinced that these men had abandoned their faith in one Nigeria, with what was now the Biafra part of it. All of them were punished and a few shot, for sabotage. Before going on, let me say something about the term sabotage in the context of Biafra.

It came into current use after the Governor had called in November 1966 for intensive vigilance against infiltrators, traitors, agents of the Federal Government (this was before secession), and even those who were indifferent. It was during that time that my telephone was tapped. People were asked to obtain new number plates for their cars, prefaced with the letter VIG, for twenty-five pounds, the proceeds of which were to go to the Rehabilitation Commission for the aid of refugees. This immediately set on a chain of witch-hunting activities by irresponsible elements against the non-Ibos, whose loyalties and movements were always suspected. But not even all the Ibos escaped the net. Many of them were in fact arrested as saboteurs, and dealt with even more severely than the non-Ibos—their punishment was made that much more severe because they were considered the real traitors to their fatherland. The witch-hunting increased after the start of the civil war. One’s words, one’s movements, one’s moods, one’s house—everything was watched. Anything could be judged sabotage, and one could even be executed without an opportunity to explain. Every success of the enemy was nothing but the work of saboteurs. For this, all those who came from, or were connected with, the area overrun by the Federal troops were practical or potential saboteurs, and were treated accordingly. In the same way, the officers and troops whose position or sector was overrun by the Federal troops were treated as saboteurs. In this the mob had the sway, and often the right to judge and punish.

In the case of Col. Okon, the Governor while deferring to the wishes of the people (and these included very responsible personalities), did not agree that he should be shot. He was, however, reduced to the rank of major and removed from the army, though, as the war went against Biafra, he was several months later returned to the army, but largely in administrative positions. Before then I had been instructed to find him a civilian appointment, and I recommended that he be sent to the Transport Directorate.

The fall of Opi took the Governor for the first time to the front. As was to be his regular practice subsequently, he took me and other top civilians with him. It was my first experience of being at the front. Some six miles or more from Opi we saw our soldiers moving back or clustering aimlessly along the road. The Governor stopped, asked what had happened, and ordered them to return to the front, leaving behind an officer from his entourage to ensure that the order was carried out. We proceeded and began to see the lorries, which had carried the troops, loaded and turned in the direction of Enugu. “That’s the gun! that’s the gun!” the Governor shouted almost in a panic as a vehicle with something mounted on it and covered came racing by. It was the artillery men retreating. The artillery gun had been acquired only a few days before and had just seen its first action. The vehicle was stopped, and the explanation was given that they had to move back to a more advantageous position. I could see from his expression that the Governor was worried.

Then we saw the refugees. We had started seeing the throngs twelve miles from Enugu. Women and children, old men and old women, with fowls, cats, goats and whatever personal belongings they could carry, moving aimlessly to uncertain destinations. We saw a few lying dead, or nearly so, from hunger and fatigue. They were among those who had been trekking for days from the most remote parts of the Nsukka Division—those who did not remain behind or take to the bush. It was a very tragic and distressing spectacle.

Eventually we reached the front and the battalion headquarters. What we saw was not at all reassuring. Troops were milling about, confused and exhausted. The commander appeared to have lost all sense of mental and physical direction. Our visit was a surprise to him. He was poring over a map, almost as tired and confused as the troops around him. He came to us and explained what had happened and his plans to counter the situation, That he was confused and unsure of what he was saying was clear from his swallowing and coughing. An attack had been arranged to start in thirty minutes’ time. Another officer was attacking—or going to attack—at the same time from the left flank. The Governor said he would wait to see the start of the attack. We moved into a room in a nearby school compound, the operational headquarters, I think. A few minutes later the officer whom we had been told was going to attack from the left flank walked in. He was no less confused and tired than the other officer on the main axis. What was more, he had not yet completed arrangements for the attack due in ten minutes’ time. He had come to collect some arms and ammunition—which in fact were not there. We heard firing and the sounds of machine guns, five minutes before the planned attack from our side. The Federal troops had started ahead of us.

“Were you happy with what we saw?” the Governor asked us we drove back, and added, “I wasn’t.” Back in Enugu he sent out word to the administrative divisions to produce and send a thousand able-bodied men each to Enugu. They were all to come with anything they could lay hands on, which might kill or wound—dane guns, matchets, clubs, stones, knives. Those in the neighbouring divisions like Awgu and Udi were to arrive before the following morning, while others should be in Enugu not later than noon. The Ibo warriors from Abam Ohafia, Aba and other places had also to be organised and sent down.

A day before, he had asked for volunteers of able-bodied men. These had come in that evening and numbered some two thousand. Boxes of double-barrelled shotguns had also arrived by train. These were taken to the army garrison and opened, whilst those skilled in the task were cleaning off the grease and fixing the guns. The two thousand men formed a queue outside in the open field. Lorries were waiting on the road. Each man was issued with a gun and four cartridges, shown how to fire and pushed to the waiting lorries. In my observation hardly any of those issued with the guns had seen that type of gun before, let alone known how to use it. Each lorry drove off as it was filled with some forty to fifty men. They were going to the Nsukka front to fight the Hausas.

It was this exercise which convinced me of the hopelessness of the situation. I actually went aside and wept for those innocent men, huddled in the lorries and driven to certain death. A number of officers had come down from Nsukka to collect anti-tank weapons which the Governor had told them had arrived and were being brought to Enugu that evening. None of the packages opened contained such things. Two of the officers called me aside to say that they were very disappointed. They had been given the impression that everything was there in the armoury with which to carry on the war. Now that it was clear that we were so deficient, some other means should be found to settle the crisis. I asked him what other means, and he told me he was thinking of political and diplomatic means. I caught his message. The army could not hold out, and its leaders would like us to approach the Federal Government for peace talks. Back at the State House I put the matter to the Governor as carefully and tactfully as I could. He wanted to know which of the officers had approached me and suggested surrender. I could not tell him, because I did not know their names, and could not even recollect their faces because it was dark when we spoke. And if I had known, I would not have told the Governor for fear of what might befall the officers concerned, whose principal interest, I was sure, was to save lives.

The following day the human levies started to arrive in Enugu and were accommodated at the Enugu University campus. The Federal troops had now advanced towards Ukehe. The Governor appointed what he called a strategic committee, made up largely of civilians. “It was Churchill who said that war was too serious a matter to be entrusted into the hands of commanders”, one member of the “strategic Committee” said with elation as he took his seat and thanked the Governor for the honour accorded him and others. The first task of this committee was to harness the efforts of the civilians in the war.

“It has all along been my conviction that it is the civilians who will fight and win this war and not the soldiers. From all that has happened already, it would be foolish to expect the soldiers to satisfy the aspirations of this new Republic.” Those were the words of the Governor to his strategic committee. “Nothing can frighten professional soldiers more than the sight of civilian masses confronting them. They will kill them, no doubt, but will soon be tired. That is the tactics adopted in the Asiatic countries, China for instance. I have got brought down to Enugu thousands of civilians from all over the republic. The aim is to throw them in in waves against the enemy who would thereby be confused and frightened by the prospect of mowing down thousands of civilians and incurring world condemnation.”

So that was the aim of the Governor, I said to myself. He did not care; human lives did not matter, so long as it suited his objectives. I shuddered and grieved inwardly. Some people were given the charge of deploying the masses of civilians now assembled in the fields of the Enugu university campus. I later visited the scene and saw a first cousin of mine among them. He did not know, and none of them had been told, why they had been brought down to Enugu. It was not at all easy to organise the movement of such enormous crowds. Most of them had been without food for at least twenty-four hours. Some of them had been fed, but none were full. In the end the idea of feeding them proved impossible. They were loaded into lorries, given a pound each and told that they would have to kill, reap and eat wherever they might find themselves. Even the distribution of money soon became quite unmanageable. Those who did not receive the money were told to proceed and that they would be paid at the front.

It was while we were standing in the fields that the first mortar bomb exploded on top of Milliken Hill. “Oh, never mind, it is just our people testing weapons,” was the explanation. Nothing much was heard of the hordes of people sent out. But very few of them got near the front where the Federal troops were—the rest deserted on the way. As for those who had been sent the previous night with shotguns, many perished, but the majority fled home with the valuable w...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Half Title page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Contents
• List of Maps
• Preface to the Second Edition
• Acknowledgements
• Introduction
• Section I: Military Take-Over
• Section II: The Germs of Civil War
• Section III: The Period of Civil War
• Section IV: The Collapse of Biafra
• Appendix: The Concluding Parts of Governor Ojukwu’s Ahiara Declaration
• Index