Chapter 1: Dragged Into the Iron Train

At sixteen, you dey sell newspaper for train station. Na so one day, army train pass, one officer wey dey inside call you, make you raise the newspaper well so e fit see am. Before you fit blink, the officer drag you inside train—just like that.

Your heart beat kpatakpata for chest that day. People for station shout, some dey abuse the officer, but who go fight army? Your mama voice dey your ear, say make you no ever follow stranger, but who get power for army hand? Na so your leg dey shake as dem push you inside iron train, dust dey your nose, tears dey for your eye, but nobody send you.

Dem come lock metal chain for your waist, cold iron for your skin, heavy like ancestral curse. Dem drag you go make you join army by force.

Small pikin wey dey beside you begin cry, another one just dey look ground dey murmur prayer. You begin count the links for the chain, dey ask God if na so your story go end.

The road from Makurdi to the war front long no be small—very, very long. For the eighty-seven people wey dem carry, na only twelve survive.