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As recently as two weeks ago, Ojukwu was still directing the war from a heavily camouflaged lodge in a small village near Owerri, with no indication that he foresaw the debacle approaching. He followed a schedule that began at 8 a.m. and often continued until 3:30 a.m. —"I have not been much of a sleeper since I was a child." He pinned his hopes for Biafra's survival on domestic disorders in Nigeria. "Nigeria is a free-for-all," he said. "Gowon's only asset is that he can get British support." Bitterly, Ojukwu described the battles around him as "Mr. Wilson's war for African oil."
Ojukwu was betting that the centrifugal forces of tribal, religious and economic rivalry would tear Nigeria apart in time to save Biafra. But his men ran out of food before that debatable historical process could run its course. Thousands of them faded into the bush, shed their uniforms and, clad only in shorts, melted into streams of refugees. The Nigerians overran Owerri, the last remaining city of any size (250,-000) in Biafra. Then they pressed on toward Uli with their 122-mm. Soviet cannon, shelling the strip from a range of 13 miles.
The Last Message
Shortly before Owerri fell, Ojukwu held an all-night Cabinet meeting at which it was decided that he should leave Biafra, ostensibly to seek help elsewhere, actually to facilitate the surrender. Ojukwu later claimed that the decision was his; in Lagos, there were contrary reports that Effiong and other dissenters had forced Ojukwu to go. In any case, Ojukwu departed with bank accounts in London and Zurich to cushion the blow. With Ojukwu gone, Effiong broadcast a call for a cease-fire over a mobile radio transmitter. "Our people are now disillusioned," he said, "and those elements of the old government regime who have made negotiations and reconciliations impossible have voluntarily removed themselves from our midst."
At Uli airstrip by that time, half the runway lights and some of the runway itself had been knocked out by Nigerian guns. The control tower began to wave off flights; they dropped from 17 a day to three, and soon were discontinued. The last pilots to get in with dried fish and other food had to unload their own planes because workers had fled. Often food moved from Uli was brought back because distribution centers had been overrun. The last telex message from Biafra to Markpress, a Geneva public relations firm that has handled the Biafra account with skill, said tersely: "Despite widespread rumors to the contrary, the airstrip at Uli is functioning normally." Next day it fell and with it the nation that it had kept barely alive for so long.
Reconciliation and Repair