The Soldier: Changing the Narratives – EPISODE 7

By Dr Bassey Emmanuel

UN Observer – The Soldier-Poet of Sudan with Stethoscope and Rifle

Pascal arrived at the Army Headquarters Department of Army Training and Operations, AHQ DATOPS, the next day 30 minutes before the time he was given. The office was still scanty as most staff were yet to resume work for the day. He waited at the reception and called his CO to inform him that he was already at the Army Headquarters as directed.

Little did he know that his CO was equally in Abuja and coming to the office that morning. He was shocked to see the CO in the reception 30 minutes later.

“Good morning, Sir,” Pascal saluted.

“Morning Pascal, how are you doing today?” the CO asked.

“I am doing fine, sir. I am surprised to see you here, sir. I didn’t know you were in Abuja when we spoke yesterday,” Pascal inquired.

“No, Pascal, I was not in Abuja when I spoke with you last night. I flew in with the first flight this morning,” the CO clarified.

The Chief of Army Staff (C0AS) had requested the presence of the CO in Abuja first thing that morning. Even the CO did not know why he was summoned. At the appointed time, Pascal and the CO were ushered into the COAS’, Conference Room where senior officers were already seated. It was there the MC welcomed everyone and disclosed the purpose for the gathering. The COAS had approved the concessional commission of Corporal Pascal to the rank of Captain in the Nigerian Army, and the gathering was the piping ceremony.

The news came to both the CO and Pascal as a shock.

Pascal entered the Conference Room as a Corporal and came out as a Captain. He was then documented at AHQ DATOPS for his Sudan mission as a Captain. He was also directed to the Army Headquarters Department of Military Secretary, AHQ MS, for his documentation as a commissioned officer.

At the end of the documentations, Pascal traveled back to UNN for his final degree examination and other school clearance. He then traveled to Lagos to see his parents and inform them of his international mission in Sudan. The parents received the news with mixed feelings — not knowing whether to be happy for his achievement or sad for not going to see him for 2 years or more.

Pascal left Nigeria a Captain with a trophy. He arrived in Sudan with a mandate: save lives, keep peace, change minds.

Sudan was not like Abuja. The air in Nyala was thick with dust and the weight of old wars. Dead bodies littered here and there, with children looking malnourished and homeless.

Pascal stepped off the UN C-130 in his blue beret and desert camouflage, with stethoscope in his left pocket, rifle slung across his back, a small notebook of poems in his right, and a small New Testament Bible in his back pocket.

He was no longer Corporal Pascal Vincent of the Nigerian Army. He was now Captain Dr Pascal Vincent, UN Military Observer, Nigerian Contingent.

The promotion came as a surprise less than 48 hours after the National Competition. Pascal recalled the speech of the COAS during his decoration ceremony.

This recognition on you today is for exceptional representation of the Armed Forces of Nigeria and projection of intellectual capacity,” the Chief of Army Staff announced. “After now you will be going on UN Observer Mission in Darfur – Sudan for the period of 2 years. I am aware that you were supposed to proceed for your house-manship as a trained medical doctor. Arrangement has been made with the UN for you to observe the mandatory house-manship over there, while keeping the peace. The COAS concluded.

The gesture was greeted with loud applause by the people in the hall. His mind shifted to when he boarded the plane at Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport in Abuja — how his parents escorted him from Lagos to bid him farewell that morning. His mother could no longer hold back the tears as she let them flow freely. The father, as a man, was also emotionally overwhelmed but pulled himself together to console his wife.

He jerked back to reality when the pilot announced their arrival in Darfur and the plane finally touched the tarmac.

Week One — Sector 1, Southern Darfur. Pascal’s job was clear: observe ceasefire violations, protect civilians, support humanitarian aid and services. His other job was not in the manual but in his head: prove that a Nigerian soldier could be a doctor, a poet, and a peacekeeper — at the same time.

It started with a child.

The UN Observers’ convoy was returning from a food distribution service in Kalma Camp when the radio cracked.

“Hello Zero Alpha. Hello Zero Alpha. This is Zero Bravo! Can you read me? Loud and clear, over! Civilian casualty, 2 clicks east. Suspected militia crossfire, Over!

Pascal’s team, this is Zero Alpha, Roger and Out!

The team found the boy under a tree. Eight years old with a gunshot wound to the abdomen. The village elders stood by, saying the boy was from a tribe that had attacked their village last month.

“Leave him”, the interpreter said. “His people are our enemies”.

Pascal ignored them, pulled off his beret and knelt, then put on gloves. He examined the little boy who was lying lifeless. Upon checking his pulse, Pascal discovered that he was still alive.

“No,” he said. “His people may be your enemies, but they are first humans, and this little boy is innocent of whatever you adults are doing in this senseless war.”

For three hours he worked — in dust, under sun, with bullets still popping and flying all over the place. He used the pressure bandage, morphine, and administered life support. He whispered Psalm 23 as he sutured the wound.

The boy lived.

The elders watched. One old man walked to Pascal afterward. He didn’t speak English. He pointed to Pascal’s blue beret, then to his own chest, then to the sky.

The interpreter said: “He is saying, as you wear God’s colour, may God bless you for your show of love in our land.”

Week two– Week two was routine — Pascal was just doing his medical and observer mission duties.

Week Three — BBC World Service Visits Sector 1, Southern Darfur. That early morning the sun rose amid dusty and windy weather. The BBC World Service defied the harsh weather and visited the location where Pascal was deployed. They had heard of the Nigerian doctor-soldier who writes poems in the field.

The reporter found Pascal treating malnourished children at a makeshift clinic. Rifle stacked in the corner. Notebook open on the table.

“Captain Vincent,” she asked, camera rolling, “you carry a rifle and a stethoscope. Which one defines you?”

Pascal looked at the child on the bed. Then at his rifle. Then at the notebook.

“Madam,” he said, “the rifle stops the killing. The stethoscope stops the dying. But the poem?” He tapped the notebook and smiled. “Stops the hating.”

That night, BBC aired it.

Headline: “The Soldier-Poet of Sudan: Nigeria’s Captain Dr Vincent on War, Healing, and Words of Philosophy”

CNN picked it up. Al Jazeera ran it. NTA played it every hour.

In Abuja, the Minister of Defence called the Chief of Army Staff, expressing his happiness for the success of the Nigerian Captain cum medical doctor who is making the military and Nigeria proud in a foreign land.

In Lagos, his father saw it on TV. For the first time, he didn’t sleep off while watching. His mother was overjoyed, while Sule could not stop telling anyone who cared to listen that Pascal was his friend.

Week Six. The Ambush.

Pascal was requested as a surgeon to hurry to the frontline to attend to a severely wounded Ghanaian soldier at El Fasher. He successfully stabilized the soldier, having removed the bullet.

But on their way back, the convoy was ambushed on the road. They were traveling with three UN vehicles. An RPG hit the lead vehicle and the driver died instantly.

Pascal was in vehicle two. He grabbed his rifle and his medical bag and jumped out of the moving vehicle, maneuvering to take cover.

“Medic!” someone screamed.

He ran forward under fire. Dragged two wounded Gambian observers to cover. In the process, Pascal stumbled, face hitting rock. Blood filled his mouth. He spat and shouted, return fire. Then dropped his rifle, opened his bag, and started triage, tourniquets, chest seals, morphine. All while calling for air support on the radio.

When the Sudanese Army reinforcements arrived 20 minutes later, they found Pascal giving CPR to a Bangladeshi Captain, still in his blood-stained uniform, with his blue beret on the ground beside him.

The captain survived.

The Sudanese General walked to Pascal after. Pascal saluted him, but he didn’t salute back. Instead, he hugged him.

How are you able to handle these numbers of injured persons? The General asked.

“Triage, sir,” Pascal told the General. “We save who we can save first.”

“Nigeria,” The Sudanese General said in Arabic, “you sent us a man of many parts. We are grateful!”

That night in the UN compound, Pascal sat on his bunk.

He opened his notebook. The page was stained with blood from the ambush.

He wrote one line:

“The flag is not cloth, but what you do when no one is watching. The flag is conscience.”

He closed the book. Looked at his rifle on the wall. His stethoscope on the table. And the UN flag flapping outside in the desert wind.

Next to it was the Nigerian flag.

One was blue. The other was green-white-green.

Suddenly he shouted out of a sharp pain in his waist, and 2 soldiers rushed in.

To be continued…

– Digital Embassy…