By Oyeyemi Abolade
This report is based on interviews with serving and former military personnel. Names have been changed for protection.
His face was burned beyond recognition in the explosion. His hands were still clutching the steering wheel when they found him — as though he had refused to let go, even in death. The blast had torn his chest open, but somehow, the Bible on his chest remained untouched — not a single page was scorched.
No official letter ever arrived at his mother’s home. No military officer came knocking to deliver the news. There were no apologies, no words of comfort. Only silence — a silence heavy enough to drown a grieving mother.
This was the end of Samuel Idoko. He was just 21. He died serving his country.
The Invisible Army
In the Nigerian Army, there are many like Samuel Idoko — soldiers whose sacrifices are rarely celebrated, whose stories often die with them on the battlefield. Every day, Nigeria’s soldiers stand between safety and chaos. They carry rifles — but also carry burdens the public never sees. They serve without applause, live without support, and return home — if they return at all — with scars that outlast the war. This is the reality for thousands of Nigerian military men and women.
Only about 30% of Nigerians genuinely appreciate the sacrifices made by soldiers, and most of them are people who have experienced insurgency or conflict firsthand. Outside these crisis zones, uniformed soldiers are often viewed with suspicion or even fear — but not with respect. Yet when danger strikes, everyone calls on them.
“You’ll hear people say, ‘Give us soldiers to protect us,’ as if soldiers are immune to death — as if they don’t bleed, as if they don’t die,” one soldier said anonymously. “But when a soldier dies, there’s no proper system in place for the family. No steady support from the military. Nothing.”
Injuries Beyond the Body
“Injuries from war zones rarely get proper follow-up treatment,” another soldier shared. “That’s why you see many of us with one limping leg, living with untreated wounds, or struggling with permanent disabilities.” The Nigerian military lacks a comprehensive healthcare system for its soldiers. Many return from combat with shattered limbs, hearing loss, or internal trauma — only to be redeployed, often without completing medical recovery.
But what’s even more neglected is mental health. “Formal counseling doesn’t exist in the military,” one soldier explained. “Only the most extreme cases get referred to civilian psychiatric hospitals — and by then, it’s usually too late. There’s no such thing as real mental health care in the army. You just carry your cross. And it’s even worse if you’re just a soldier, not an officer.”
The Mental Battles of a Military Personnel
A peacetime survey showed that 12.2% of troops deployed in Nigeria’s North-East live with PTSD. Among peacekeepers returning from Liberia and Sierra Leone, the rate jumps to 22%. Yet mental healthcare in Nigeria remains a ghost system. The country devotes just 3.3% of its federal health budget to mental health — and nearly all of that ends up in psychiatric hospitals, not in field counseling or early support. According to WHO data, less than 4% of total health spending goes toward mental health — leaving an estimated 85% treatment gap, where most cases go untreated.
Why They Joined
Interviews revealed that not every man in uniform joined the military out of patriotism. Lance Corporal Ade (not his real name) joined in 2012 to prove a point. “I needed to show my girlfriend then that I was enough — that I had power now,” he said. “People fear and respect soldiers, and I wanted that respect. Especially from her.” Thirteen years later, Ade is still in service. He’s wiser now — but sometimes regrets the decision. “Sometimes I feel stuck,” he admitted. “And I didn’t even end up with the girl.”
Others, like Sergeant Salaudeen, joined because of action films. “But real life is not a movie,” he said. “Being a soldier in the Nigerian Army drains the life out of you. You’re not just wearing the uniform — you’re sacrificing your entire existence for it.”
Private Soldier Mariam added, “I joined thinking I’d be living for the nation. But the truth is, you lose yourself. Your time, your voice, your choices — everything belongs to the chain of command.” The uniform gives structure, but it can erase identity. “It has fun moments, memories that are beautiful to remember, but the sacrifice is heavy. And the system is rigid. It favors officers. The rest of us just follow orders.”
The First Time They Saw Death
For most military personnel, their first real war zone experience is unforgettable. For Corporal Ade, that moment came in 2016, in Nigeria’s North-East. “That first experience is still my worst till date,” he said. “We were in the bush, relaxed, gisting. Then suddenly — bombs. Loud. Fast. Terrifying and deafening.” He paused. “It was a deadly day. I lost a few colleagues — the same guys I was laughing with moments before.”
That moment changed everything. “After that, I realized: the battlefield is not a place to think. It’s either you kill, or you get killed. That first war zone… it kills something in you. Something humane.”
Most soldiers lose their lives during their very first battle. Not out of weakness — but because they are unprepared. “It’s not like the movies,” one soldier said. “You’re trained, yes, but nothing prepares you for real war.”
In one training set of 90 soldiers, 46 have died between 2020 and 2024. “Sometimes I look at our old photos — the group we started with. And I count the faces. The ones who’ve died. And I wonder… whose turn is next?”
Forgotten in the Forest
While protecting states affected by insurgency, many soldiers face constant shortages — food, water, and even functional rifles. “We lived in the bush for months without proper baths,” one soldier said. “Wounds got infected — but we had to keep fighting. To stay alive.”
Military service, he added, is not a job where you protest. “The system is rigid. You must obey the last command — no matter what. You might be older than an officer, but rank comes before respect.”
With no outlet for stress, some soldiers turn to survival in other ways. “That’s why you see some guys smoking, using hard drugs, or even running away from the army,” he said. “Sometimes, that’s the only way to protect your mind — because the system won’t do it for you.”
Women in Uniform
For female soldiers, the odds are worse. While facing the same dangers, they carry additional risks — simply because they are women. In the chaos of conflict zones, brutal acts — including rape by enemy forces — have been reported. These stories are rarely spoken aloud. But they exist.
“Wearing this uniform means sacrifice. But for us women, sometimes that sacrifice is your body, your dignity — and pieces of you you’ll never get back.”
Three Years Without Home
Corporal Ibrahim hasn’t been home in three years. “If you’re an expert in a particular field, you barely get a break,” he explained. “Take doctors or drivers — they’re always needed. I’m a driver, so I’m always active on duty. I’ve not been granted pass for the past three years.”
After the War, More Battles
In 2024, the Ministry of Defence finally asked for ₦49.6 million to build a veterans’ databank — 15 years after the idea was first proposed in 2008. But even that won’t solve the chaos of pensions. Many retirees wait months or decades for their dues. Some Civil War veterans are still owed arrears from over 45 years ago. One veteran told Daily Trust how he once slept on cardboard at a pension office — penniless after surviving the battlefield. The military left them fighting after discharge — stripped of dignity, abandoned by the system.
Signs of Hope
In 2023, Nigeria debuted at the Invictus Games, a global sports event for wounded servicemembers. Local officials reported that 80% of participating soldiers showed improved mental health. Following this, the Defence Headquarters began building an Armed Forces Invictus Centre in Abuja, focused on holistic physical and psychological rehabilitation. PTSD workshops and sensitization efforts are also emerging — small steps in the right direction.
But a formal mental health system is still missing from military routine. Physical rehab remains inconsistent. And where support exists, it’s often limited to those with visible wounds — or media attention.
They Deserve Better
Nigeria asks its soldiers to give their best — sometimes everything. They fight. They get injured. They lose friends. And many return — or retire — with scars. Their families suffer. Their pensions are delayed. Their grief is overlooked.
This isn’t just unfair. It’s dangerous.
Because an army that fights without care is an army at risk.
These silent heroes deserve:
– Proper medical and mental health support
– A reliable pension system
– Basic respect, for choosing to wear the uniform
So the next time you see a soldier, acknowledge them. A simple “thank you for your service” might be the first time anyone reminded them they’re still human.
“Wearing this uniform alone is already a threat — especially in Nigeria, where insecurity is the order of the day,” one soldier said.
