"To my father, Mr. Jasper Pepple Boro, retired schoolmaster and member of the Niger Delta Development Board. To me he has been so wonderful.

To all officers and men of the Niger Delta Volunteer Service. To you is th glory of your native land, your country, and right or wrong.

My profound gratitude to people of the Niger Delta.

My gratitude goes also to the Nigerian Prison Services, particularly Superintendent Idada of the Maximum Security Prison, Sanki, for availing me with the facilities to compose these memoirs."

- Isaac Jasper Adaka Boro

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Not all Nigerians believe that the late Major Isaac Adaka Jaspa Boro was a hero. This is true even among his own people, the Izons, whom he fought for; some think he was the lad who could not read his books and brought trouble on his people. The shadows of doubt cast on his saviour status are, of course, understandable. His sensibility to the lot of the Izons, the fourth largest linguistic group scattered along the Nigerian coast, was profound and amazingly personalized in a way that not many of his compatriots felt. And when he gave expression to his inner feelings, he could carry along with him only a few.

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This book is no fiction. The motive behind its birth is to present certain facts which have hitherto remained unknown, and thereby keep the records straight. The narrative concerns the Niger Delta Volunteer Service, its exciting operations and their consequences.

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My Early Life

I am reliably informed that I was born at the zero hour of twelve midnight on 10th September, 1938, in the oil town of Oloibiri along humid creeks of the Niger Delta. My father was the headmaster of the only mission school there. Before I was old enough to know my surroundings, I was already in a city called Port-Harcourt where my father was again the headmaster of another mission school. This was in the early

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From Teacher To Policeman

In January, 1958, I entered the teaching field and was posted to the mission school at Amassoma where my father was headmaster. The school had a population of about six hundred pupils. I was the next most qualified teacher so I became the second master. Power was in my hands. I could hear the throttle in me pressing on power. Funny enough, some of my former elementary school teachers were my colleagues as staff.

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The Hell That Was Port Harcourt

Barely a fortnight after the unfortunate warning, I was transferred to Port Harcourt, where my first duty was that of Inspector in charge of the Township. I vowed to make go my youthful follies, taking into consideration the delicacy of my duties.

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