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Gilbert Punished and Taken Away: Memoirs of the Nigerian-Biafran Civil War, 1967-1970

At five o'clock or so, Gilbert turned himself in to surrender. Even in her fears Gill's death was disturbed by how skinny and short the angry recruit was. With a bit of temporary power, a skinny guy is now fierce. But the angry recruit didn't lean all the way. He has a big belly measuring football. Gill estimates he is about twenty-nine years old.

Before Gilbert had time to do another recruiting survey, the skinny punched him twice. One punch landed right in the nose; the other, a stronger punch landed in the mouth. Gill was stunned, but in vain, the seminal pride held the center of gravity. A moment passed and he felt the blood flow to his nose to his mouth slightly open. Some teeth are either lost or twisted, and their red swollen tongue is confirmed.

The angry, thin recruiter was preparing to hit Gilbert for the third time, when his partner, a large man, stopped him by standing between him and Gilbert. With all the misery and famine that hit the Igbos as a result of the war, Gilbert wondered why this recruit was so great, almost like a sumo wrestler. Most of the weight, on the head and face. On the back of her neck is a lump of baby ass size. He looks like a man in his mid-forties; his beard is a exact replica worn by Biafran leader Emeka Ojukwu.

I'm sorry. Hold it, cast it! I'm sorry. the giant yelled at his partner, who scrambled to hit Gilbert in the eye.

What attracted big recruits at the time was not to condemn Gilbert but to remove him from the backyard, out of the village, and into the war sector. The punishment will come at one of the Abagana sectors or the Npkor junction, where war is raging like double hell fire.

Although they expected some bleeding, the recruits shook their heads when they saw how much blood was spilled from Gilbert's big nose, and in a show of compassion they allowed him to destroy some of it. She felt it on her pant leg.

I'm sorry. What a silly fool, ' muttering a neckbreaker. I'm sorry. Get moving fast! If you didn't fight for Igbos, who would you fight for? I'm sorry.

I'm sorry. Men who want to fight have gone to war, Gilbert wants to say it but he doesn't, so he doesn't know. He still plans to run away as an idiot.

A small dew fell in an instant, and Gilbert felt the wet sand on his bare feet as he walked with his captors from the back yard to the front. The unlocked metal door separates the meter. With his bloody hands Gill opened it and both recruits followed behind. Three meters outside the metal door, recruiters can see the wrought iron front door outside the house.

Something he saw on the outside put big recruits in defensive mode. Two poles, one on each side of the door, hold some kind of creature. I'm sorry. Hallux, it's okay. he whispered, ' bring a flashlight. I'm sorry. From his back pocket, Hallux carried a dim torch, hit the bottom several times with his hand to force some brightness, and pointed the beam at the gate.

I'm sorry. The tail of two giant pythons; decoration, I think, ' Hallux said.

Now the moon has danced its last. From somewhere in the universe, flakes of light began to blink over Eziama, making every detail of his creation more apparent.

Gilbert makes a monkey face and sneaks in meaningless. She quickly bent down and grabbed a handful of moist soil, put half in her mouth and started chewing and swallowing.

Surprised, Hallux opened his palm and slapped Gilbert in his mouth. Half the sand in his mouth came out. It's sticky and red.

Gilbert smiled and thanked the angry recruit for the blow.

Suspicious of Gilbert's motivation, the great recruit said, Stupid people who fight without fear of death. You really need Biafra to win the war - a man who doesn't feel pain. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry. Don't say anything. If you do that, say honey, it's fine. Gilbert reminded himself. She knew they were helping her talk, not agreeing to let them confirm that she wasn't a fool, just playing in one.

I'm sorry. The action, not the word, ' he told himself. To survive he must be trusted. I'm sorry. Act like a goat, Inner voice. Gilbert bent down and planted all the limbs on the ground. The recruiter is ready for it. They moved to his side, attached him to his elbows, jerked and straightened him. I'm sorry. Keep moving. I'm sorry.

Soon they came to the exit. Gilbert's every hope of survival depends on a locked door. How can they bring it without opening the door? If angry recruits try to break the gate, the noise will alert the villagers who will gather and persuade them to release it. So far no one has come to his rescue, but that will not go away. He could feel that, as always, no one wanted to be the first to ring a cat.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Okokpa, red-combed alpha chicken, I'm sorry. has been croaking ever since Gilbert's ordeal, and that should have alerted all the villagers that everything was bad in Eziama. Where is Jimmy, the village dog, who hears and investigates every incident in Eziama?

I'm sorry. God, not man or beast, will set you free. You worry too much ', he reminds himself, but the anxiety will not disappear. Why isn't the kidnapper bothered by the locked door? Are they willing to throw it onto the nail and into the narrow path? If they try to force him to climb the fence, he knows what to do: Refuse. His death behind the gate, where in the morning everyone would see his body and bury it, would be better than dying on the battlefield.

He hopes he can predict the future, what will happen to him in an hour, and at the end of the day. That the hidden future of him exacerbated his fears. He may face death, but may God tell him the hour, the day, so that he may prepare, he prays.

Calmly, the giant recruit grabbed the pocket of the bottom left of his jacket and pulled back a knitted purse. He released the string, flung out five rusty nails, held it between his lips and began to swap it, one by one, to select the key.

On the fourth attempt the key was opened. Gilbert felt his soul escape from his body. By giving up so easily he has helped in his own death. By playing dumb he lets the recruits take advantage of it. A direct confrontation with his kidnapper would have had a better outcome for him, he thought, regretting that he had taken the fool's way.

Metaphorically, the fat nurse returned five nails back to the wallet, tied the strap and put it back in his pocket. Hands free, he pulls the door flanges at the same time.

I'm sorry. Move it, it's fine. Hallux ordered, followed by a kick in the back. Gilbert stumbles into a lonely lane.

I'm sorry. Which one, Max? I'm sorry. Ask Hallux.

Maxwell took a few moments to clear his head and get it right, then he pointed his finger and the sender turned to Gilbert.


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