“Greater love hath no man than this — that he lay down his life for his country.”—Seaborn Wright, 1900
These words, spoken more than a century ago, have lost none of their weight. They echo still across the graves of fallen soldiers, across the tear-stained letters sent home from the front, across the silent prayers of mothers waiting by phone screens that refuse to light up.
There is no greater gift than the one a person gives to the land that bore them. Not for money. Not for medals. Not for a headline. But simply because that soil is sacred. Because the air in that country carries the laughter of everyone they have ever loved. Because the alternative, standing by while evil takes over, is simply not in their blood.
That is what our soldiers have been giving us. Quietly. Bravely. Relentlessly.
Over the last 30 days, between April 10 and May 10, 2026, the Nigerian Armed Forces have written a chapter of bravery that will outlive this generation. They have neutralised over 370 terrorists. They have rescued 239 kidnapped citizens from dens of unspeakable horror. They have arrested 342 suspects across all six geopolitical zones. From the unforgiving bush of Borno to the deadly hills of Niger State, from the kidnappers’ dens of Katsina to the shocking orphanage-turned-prison in Kogi, our troops have reminded us that courage is not the absence of fear. It is fear that has put on its boots and gone to work anyway.
And they have done all of this while fighting with one hand tied behind their backs.
Let us not sugarcoat the truth. There have been setbacks. Serious ones. We know about the moles, men in uniform who swore the same oath, ate the same rations, and then sold their brothers’ blood for envelopes of cash. We know about intelligence that walked out the back door just before troops walked into an ambush. We know about porous borders that have turned our fight into a revolving door, kill ten terrorists today, and ten more slip in from across the Sahara tomorrow. These are not excuses. These are facts. And they make what our soldiers have achieved in these 30 days nothing short of miraculous.
Because despite the betrayals from within, despite the borders that leak like a broken basket, despite the fatigue that lives in their bones, the troops did not stop. They did not throw down their rifles and walk away. They did not march to Abuja to demand answers, though God knows they would have every right to. They simply tightened their bootlaces, checked their magazines, and walked back into the darkness.
That, right there, is the sacrifice we are talking about.
A Month of Blood and Glory
Let us walk through what actually happened, because numbers alone cannot carry the weight of what these men and women endured.
On May 8, 2026, troops of the 27 Brigade in Buni Gari, Yobe State, found themselves staring down a full-scale assault by ISWAP terrorists. These were not skirmishers; they were fighters who came to kill and overrun. But our soldiers did not break. When the shooting stopped, 50 terrorists lay dead. Twenty more were killed by air strikes as they tried to flee into the Mandara Mountains. Two of our own soldiers, however, did not make it. They fell. They bled. They died on that soil, the same soil we are asking you to love.
Two days later, on May 10, the Nigerian Army UAV Command carried out the largest single operation of this 30-day period. Multiple air interdiction strikes hit Katerma, Bokko, Kusasu, and Kuduru villages in Shiroro Local Government Area of Niger State. According to the Director of Defence Media Operations, Major General Michael Onoja, approximately 70 bandits were killed in Kusasu alone. Seventy. In one village. Survivors were seen dragging away the bodies of their comrades for hurried burials. That is what victory looks like — not clean, not pretty, but necessary.
Earlier in May, in Zamfara State, troops killed three bandits during village raids. In Dutsin-Ma, Katsina State, an ambush on May 9 eliminated three more. In the North-East on May 3, scores more were killed, conservatively estimated at ten, though the actual number is almost certainly higher.
When you add April’s confirmed 209 kills to May’s toll, you arrive at approximately 365 terrorists and bandits eliminated. But defence sources have told us the actual figure likely exceeds 400. Why? Because in rugged terrain, when bodies are burned beyond recognition or dragged away by the terrorists themselves, you cannot count what you cannot find.
Beyond the killings, there are the rescues. Two hundred and thirty-nine human beings, fathers, mothers, children, brought back from the brink. The largest single rescue happened on May 8 in Dikwa village, Matazu Local Government Area of Katsina State. Troops of Operation FANSAN YAMMA, working with the Katsina State Community Watch Guard, freed 32 kidnapped victims: nine men, ten women, and thirteen children. Thirteen children.
In Kogi State, troops of the 12 Brigade rescued nine victims abducted from the Daarul-Kitab Islamic Orphanage in Zariagi, Lokoja. An orphanage. A place that should have been a sanctuary had become a prison. Five boys, two girls, and two adult women were pulled out and taken to safety.
Let the weight of that sink in. Our soldiers are not just fighting terrorists in the bush. They are pulling children out of buildings that should never have held them captive in the first place.
The Invisible Wounds
But here is what the official briefings will not tell you.
They will not tell you about the soldier in Buni Gari who watched his best friend take a bullet meant for him. They will not tell you about the young officer who had to write a letter to a widow explaining why her husband’s body could not be recovered because the airstrike that killed the terrorists also consumed everything. They will not tell you about the troops who have not heard their children’s voices in six months because phone signals are weak and patrols do not pause for bedtime calls.
These are the invisible wounds. And they are just as real as the shrapnel scars.
We want to say something to every soldier reading this editorial today, whether you are in a forward operating base in Borno or a checkpoint in Benue or a naval post in the South-South. Thank you is not enough. But we will say it anyway. Thank you.
Thank you for the birthdays you missed. Thank you for the funerals you could not attend because the mission would not wait. Thank you for choosing to be hungry so that we could eat in peace. Thank you for looking into the face of betrayal, from moles within your own ranks, and deciding to fight anyway.
You have enabled millions of Nigerians to sleep at night. Some of those Nigerians will never know your name. Some will never see your face. But we see you. And we are grateful.
And we want you to know: this nation is praying for you. Not as a slogan printed on a banner. But genuinely. On knees bent in living rooms. In whispered supplications in mosques. In tearful petitions in churches. Nigerians are asking God to cover you, to confuse the plans of those who wish you harm, to expose every mole still hiding in uniform, and to bring you home alive.
Do not give up. We know you are tired. We know the porous borders make your victories feel temporary, kill one, another crosses in. We know the moles have left you wondering who you can trust. But hear us clearly: what you are doing is working. The 239 families who have been reunited are walking proof. The villages that have not been attacked this month are living testimony. The enemy is hurting. That is why they keep running. Do not stop chasing.
Leadership That Deserves Recognition
None of this happens by accident. President Bola Ahmed Tinubu has given the military something previous administrations often withheld: unwavering political backing. He has trusted his commanders. He has not micromanaged the war from Aso Rock. He has let soldiers be soldiers. That matters.
We also commend the Chief of Defence Staff, General Olufemi Oluyede, who told the nation days ago: “No criminal or terrorist organization, regardless of its ambition, is beyond the Armed Forces of Nigeria.” Those were not mere words. They were a promise kept on the battlefield.
The new Minister of Defence has brought fresh energy to the ministry, cutting red tape and accelerating procurement. And the National Security Advisor, Nuhu Ribadu, who just completed a critical visit to the United States days ago, has strengthened the intelligence partnerships that make precision strikes like the Shiroro operation possible.
Speaking of that visit: the NSA’s talks in Washington were not ceremonial. In meetings with American counterparts, Nigeria secured continued support for surveillance technology, counterterrorism training, and border monitoring. At a time when the Sahel is collapsing and Western nations are pulling back, the United States has remained a steadfast partner. We thank the American government and people. This is what true partnership looks like, not empty promises, but shared intelligence, shared sacrifice, and shared commitment to defeating an enemy that respects no flag.
A Final Word
To the moles hiding in uniform: your days are numbered. To the terrorists watching from across invisible borders: the Nigerian soldier is coming. And to the troops still out there on this day hungry and tired and far from home: hold the line.
“Greater love hath no man than this — that he lay down his life for his country.”
You have shown that love. Not just in death, but in living, day after day, through every betrayal, every wound, every goodbye you never wanted to say.
Your country sees you. Your country thanks you. And your country will never forget what you have done.
God bless the Nigerian Armed Forces.
God bless the Federal Republic of Nigeria.
And to add to this, we at Spear News Nigeria, say THANK YOU!
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