When Generals Fall to Broken Guns: A War Tinubu Can’t Afford to Lose

Iyobosa Uwugiaren argues that the recent killing of Brigadier-General Oseni Omoh Braimah and his colleagues by Boko Haram insurgents, is not just a military loss—it is a national indictment. It forces a confrontation with uncomfortable truths about priorities, systems, and commitment to those who stand between the nation and chaos.

The call came in the early hours—one of those calls that never carries good news. A senior officer, a Brigadier-General known for his grit and battlefield instinct, had been killed in the North-East. Not due to a careless deployment. Not because of a strategic miscalculation. But at the very moment it mattered most—his equipment failed him.

Around him, some of his troops were also cut down. The enemy: Boko Haram terrorists —ruthless, adaptive, and ever excited to exploit the state’s weakest seams.

It is difficult to process such a huge loss without anger. Harder still to silence the question that predictably follows: how many more must die—not because they were outmatched by terrorists, but because they were underserved?

“This morning, another Brigadier-General (Oseni Omoh Braimah), and some of his troops were mauled down by Boko Haram in the North-East. When it mattered most, their old equipment failed them. We have consistently called for the need to properly equip the military, but it appears that politics takes precedence for President Bola Tinubu and his administration.

“This one hits me hard because of my closeness to the senior officer—a very experienced and tough fighter. It is a shame. I only hope and pray that the military is not pushed to the wall,” a retired army general and close friend of the late Braimah said, his voice heavy with emotion.

Reacting to the killing, President Tinubu described the fallen soldiers as heroes.

“These soldiers are our heroes—unforgettable and irreplaceable,” he said. “The government will never forget their sacrifices. Their sacrifices will not be in vain. Because of the courage and dedication of our troops on the frontline, our resolve to defeat terrorism and all forms of violence across Nigeria is stronger than ever.”

Yet, even as these words offer comfort, they cannot obscure the grim reality.

In the early hours of last Thursday, terrorists attacked the camp of the 29 Task Force Brigade under Operation HADIN KAI, killing an unspecified number of personnel, including Brigadier-General Braimah.

This is not just another tragic entry in Nigeria’s long war in the North-East. The death of a Brigadier-General under such circumstances is a national alarm bell—one that speaks to the fragility of military readiness, the erosion of troop confidence, and the widening gap between political rhetoric and battlefield reality.

When a seasoned, battle-tested commander falls—reportedly due to equipment failure—the implications are both immediate and far-reaching.

First, there is morale. Soldiers do not fight on courage alone; they fight on confidence—confidence in leadership, in mission, and critically, in the tools of war. When soldiers begin to doubt the reliability of their weapons, vehicles, or communication systems, hesitation creeps in. And in war, hesitation kills.

The emotional blow of losing a senior commander in such circumstances sends a terrifying message down the ranks: even the most experienced are not shielded from systemic neglect. Over time, this erodes the fighting spirit upon which counterinsurgency operations depend.

The operational consequences are just as severe. A Brigadier-General is not merely another casualty; he is a strategic asset—one who organises, mentors, and anchors operations in a theatre where experience often determines success or failure. His loss disrupts command structures, delays decision-making, and weakens responsiveness to evolving threats.

In a conflict where insurgents rely on speed and surprise, such disruptions—even temporary—can tilt the balance in their favour.

Beyond the battlefield lies an even more troubling dimension: perception. The suggestion that non operational or failing equipment contributed to this tragedy reinforces a dangerous narrative—that Nigeria’s armed forces are not adequately equipped for the war they are asked to fight. In a complex society like Nigeria, perception matters. And when that perception reflects indifference or misplaced priorities, it erodes trust—not just within the military, but among citizens whose security is at stake.

This is where leadership becomes unavoidable. As Commander-in-Chief, President Tinubu bears ultimate responsibility for the welfare and effectiveness of the armed forces. To suggest that politics is taking precedence over military necessity is a grave accusation—one that demands more than routine assurances. It requires transparency, accountability, and decisive action.

The lives of soldiers cannot become collateral damage in the calculus of governance. The repercussions extend further.

For young Nigerians considering a military career, stories like this are deeply discouraging. They raise serious doubts about institutional support and personal safety. For those already in uniform, they fuel disenchantment and provoke difficult questions about whether their sacrifices are matched by the system they serve. Over time, this affects recruitment, retention, and ultimately, the quality of the armed forces.

Meanwhile, the enemy is watching. Terrorist groups thrive not only on tactical victories but on symbolic ones. The killing of a Brigadier-General provides propaganda value—reinforcing their narrative of resilience and state weakness. It emboldens fighters, attracts recruits, and amplifies their message across digital platforms.

In modern warfare, perception can be as powerful as firepower—and this is ground the security agencies, especially the army, cannot afford to concede.

There is also a deeper systemic issue. Equipment failure is rarely isolated; it is often a symptom of broader dysfunction—flawed procurement processes, poor maintenance culture, bureaucratic bottlenecks, and, in some cases, corruption. Addressing this requires more than emergency funding or rushed acquisitions.

It demands a comprehensive overhaul of defence procurement, transparency in military spending, and a long-term commitment to capacity development—not short-term fixes.

Yet, even as we interrogate systems and structures, we must not lose sight of the human cost. General Braimah was not just a statistic; he was a leader, a mentor, and a family man. His troops were not expendable assets; they were citizens who answered the call to serve their country. Their deaths are a unambiguous reminder that the price of insecurity is paid in blood—and too often, it is the blood of those sent to confront it on behalf of the nation.

The warning by a retired army general that the military could be “pushed to the wall” should not be dismissed lightly. While the armed forces have demonstrated commendable professionalism, sustained frustration and perceived neglect can strain even the most disciplined institution. History shows that when soldiers feel abandoned, the consequences can be unpredictable.

What, then, must be done? First, there must be a thorough and transparent investigation into the circumstances surrounding this incident. If equipment failure played a role, Nigerians deserve to know why—and who is accountable.

Second, the government must urgently prioritise the upgrade and maintenance of critical military hardware. This is not a luxury; it is a necessity.

Third, structural reforms in defence procurement must ensure efficiency, transparency, and value for money.

Finally, there must be a renewed commitment to the welfare of soldiers—not just in rhetoric, but in policies that reflect the true value of their service.

Nigeria’s war against terrorism has been long, costly, and painful. It has claimed thousands of lives and displaced millions. Yet, as President Tinubu has affirmed, it is a fight that must be won—not only for territorial integrity, but for national stability and the promise of a secure future.

But incidents like this threaten to undermine that fight. The death of Brigadier-General Braimah and his colleagues is not just a military loss—it is a national indictment. It forces a confrontation with uncomfortable truths about priorities, systems, and commitment to those who stand between the nation and chaos.

If this tragedy does not provoke urgent and meaningful change, then the unacceptable risks becoming normalised. And in both war and governance, what is normalised eventually becomes entrenched.

Nigeria cannot afford that. Not now. Not in this fight against terrorists.