Frederick Forsyth's Last Letter Poem by Emeka GOC

Frederick Forsyth's Last Letter
(Buried for Over 50 Years: Britain's Shame in Biafra)


A million children starved to death,
and still their silent shadows breathe.
Forsyth wakes to nights without rest,
where the ghosts of the forgotten weep
images etched into the red earth,
and the memory of a government
that watched, denied, and turned away.

It is natural to love one's country,
to lift its banner with pride.
Yet history is a long corridor
where certain doors open only to shame:
the Boer concentration camps on the South African veld,
Amritsar's blood-soaked garden square,
the Hola camps of the Mau Mau years
and one word that still corrodes the tongue:
Biafra.

The pogrom came suddenly, brutal and unrestrained,
sweeping across the North and West.
Thousands of Igbo were slaughtered
while Lagos stood indifferent.
A dictatorship, baptized in blood,
rose from the chaos of 1966
Gowon, affable and British-trained,
a ceremonial figurehead
while northern colonels ruled from the shadows.

Eastern Nigeria, swollen with refugees,
sought restitution for its wounds.
Britain convened a conference in Ghana;
the Aburi Accord emerged—fragile, hopeful.
But upon Gowon's return,
the colonels tore the agreement apart.
The promise died,
and the river of war began to rise.

Biafra lifted its banner under Ojukwu
Oxford-educated, incisive, disciplined
a soldier-scholar shaped by empire's own institutions.
London turned from truth,
denounced the secession,
refused mediation,
and pledged unwavering support to Lagos.

Forsyth arrived in Enugu on the war's third day,
armed with Whitehall's confident briefings:
the rebellion would collapse in weeks.
Two days in the dust and heat
revealed the deception.
The high commissioner in Lagos
a racist, a snob
loathed Ojukwu for refusing to bow,
and fed Whitehall a narrative
built on prejudice and disdain.

Forsyth reported the truth
and was recalled, accused of bias.
Six months later, disillusioned,
he resigned and returned to Biafra.
Ojukwu laughed and welcomed him back
on one condition:
that his pen serve only truth,
not propaganda.

Meanwhile Britain's covert hand expanded.
Weapons and ammunition flowed quietly,
denied publicly.
Advisers arrived in secret.
The Nigerian army grew in strength
while Biafrans fought with
a handful of bullets each day.

Soviet bombers tore open the sky,
dropping thousand‑pound fire
on straw-roofed villages.
Then came July
and the mothers emerging from the bush,
carrying children reduced to bone and swelling.
Kwashiorkor:
the silent death of protein starvation.

David Cairns captured the truth on film
raw, unfiltered, devastating.
When the images reached London,
the public gasped.
The cover-up cracked.
Questions rose in Parliament.
Wilson faced the heat of revelation.

Donations poured in.
Food was purchased
but how to deliver it?
By year's end, a miracle emerged:
Joint Church Aid,
an outlaw fleet based in São Tomé.
Airline pilots volunteered without pay.
"Jesus Christ Airlines, " they called it
the world's only illegal mercy air bridge.

Throughout 1969,
they flew through hostile night skies,
dodging MiGs,
landing on jungle strips
to deliver milk powder
that kept thousands alive.

A million children died
but half a million survived.
Forsyth still sees them in the small hours:
stick limbs, fading eyes,
the low moans of hunger
and the quiet collapse of life.

What shames him most
is not the brutality of war,
but the fact that this catastrophe
was engineered, excused, and concealed
by Oxbridge-trained mandarins
men who chose denial over diplomacy,
and whose misjudgment
could have been prevented
by simple neutrality.

Biafra is scarcely mentioned in Britain today,
overshadowed by Vietnam's global roar.
Yet the cruelty, deceit, and callousness
of those three years
remain an enduring stain
a memory that must not fade.

Forsyth closes with a final truth:
Britain's role was shameful.
Silence is no absolution.
History demands remembrance
and accountability.



Dedication & Source Notes:
This poem is dedicated to honor Frederick Forsyth, an arch-friend of Gen. Ojukwu and therefore a great friend of the Igbo people. Culled from The Guardian (Tue 21 Jan 2020 06.00 GMT) , originally titled 'Buried for 50 years: Britain's shameful role in the Biafran war.' This poetic transformation is crafted from the original article authored by Frederick Forsyth.