In the opening pages of the Volume 1 of The UT Story: Humble Beginnings, authored by Capt Prince Kofi Amoabeng (rtd), he decided to share the story of how he found himself in the Ghana Military Academy, training to become an officer.

Although he described himself as an “impetuous and undisciplined twenty-three-year-old young man living a life of dissipation,” he wrote on how the need to survive and pick up his young life eventually landed him with the not-so-initially-preferred career in the military.

After what was a convincing conversation with the lowest-ranked officer on the panel that interviewed him ahead of his admission to the Academy, Major Oduro Yeboah (now a retired Colonel), gave the thought a real one: he believed he could become a soldier too.

Academy life was a tough one for him and naturally, as he said, many trainees escape along the way; that was how his friend and roommate, Dossey’s story got featured in the book.

In the long run, the young Officer Cadet Prince Kofi Amoabeng helped this roommate find his freedom from the Ghana Military Academy, but it did not come easy for him.

The following excerpts detail how all of it went down:

Unfortunately, not everyone who found himself at the academy was cut out for it. Some simply could not get the hang of it. One such person was Dossey, my roommate.

Junior cadets were assigned two to a room. The rooms were small with one double bunk bed and two wardrobes. We shared a common set of washrooms with our colleagues on the block.

After secondary school, Dossey attended a teacher-training college, taught for a couple of years, attended university before joining the military academy. He must have been at least seven years older than me.

Try as he did, he could not get things right at the academy.

This invariably got him into more trouble and made his stay miserable. His major problem was that he could not coordinate properly during the drills.

Our drill instructors did not help matters. They jeered at him. "Dozy Dossey! Very Dozy Dossey!" they jeered, anytime he got a drill wrong.

Of course, he disliked that sort of treatment but he could not help it.

And because we did drills literally all the time, he felt antagonized by the whole system.

He just did not have the temperament required to survive at the academy. He felt he was being treated as a pariah.

What irritated him most was that our instructors were mostly younger men who had lesser academic qualifications. They joined the military after secondary school. And yet, in Dossey's words, "They controlled our lives whimsically and treated us like kids." He could never come to terms with the fact that less educated and younger men were in control of our lives.

"These small boys don't respect," he lamented.

"It's not about respect," I counselled him. "I's about what ought to be done. I'm sure they also went through a similar regimen when they were juniors. So let's just endure it. It won't last forever."

"Even at the mess, just when one settles down to eat, they order us out arbitrarily," he complained.

He was right. Whenever we entered the mess and start eating, a senior cadet invariably shouted,

"All junior cadets out!" And then we had to immediately abandon our plates of food which we had barely touched and scramble out. So, I devised a way to circumvent the system, which I shared with Dossey.

"When I get to the mess, I try to eat as quickly as possible. And because the food is invariably hot, I add a bit of cold water to cool it down to enable me eat faster. Whilst at it, I slipped my boiled egg out of sight into my pocket. So when they order us out, even if I hadn't been able to eat much, I could still eat the egg later on."

A couple of days later, Dossey tried to slip his egg into his pocket at the mess. Unfortunately, a senior cadet caught him and slapped his hand. The egg fell to the floor.

"What's this?" The senior cadet raised an alarm.

Everyone turned to see what the commotion was about. "An aspiring army officer, trying to hide your egg in your pocket?" he disclosed, pointing to the egg on the floor. Dossey was totally embarrassed.



Afterwards, he stomped into our room and declared that he was done; he was leaving the academy. I tried to persuade him to rescind his decision.

"You can have my egg and some gari too," I offered. "Forget about this incident and let's go."

Because he was emotionally disturbed, everything went unusually awry for him during the drills. The instructors as usual did not spare him, "Dozy Dossey! Dozy Dossey! Dozy Dossey!" they jeered all day long. Needless to say, this exacerbated Dossey's already fragile emotionally state.

That evening, he said to me despondently, "Kofi, no matter what you say, I have to leave. This isn't the only place for me to succeed in life." The look in his eyes and the tone of his voice convinced me beyond doubt that he had indeed made up his mind.

His spirit was completely broken. There was no point in trying to talk him out of it.

"But you're aware you can't just walk away," I reminded him. "You have to run away." "Yes," he answered sombrely.

So, we hatched his getaway plan. At the stroke of midnight, I helped him pack up his belongings and we embarked on the risky venture of going to hide his luggage in a place near the Teshie township which we called the mango grove. I was fully aware of the implications of my involvement, should we get caught. Yet I opted to help him out.

What are friends for?

As we stole our way towards the mango grove, suddenly all the natural nocturnal sounds became amplified - all our senses were on the alert. We kept to the shadows and looked over our shoulders furtively every now and then, all the while praying that we would not get caught.

Even though it was just a short distance to the mango grove - about seven minutes' round trip - it felt much longer. With bated breath and our hearts pounding, we managed to reach the mango grove without any incident. We quickly hid the luggage in the grove and set off back towards our room.

This time round, although it was still risky to be caught, we did not feel the same sense of trepidation as before. After all, we were not carrying any luggage that would give us away. Even if we got caught, we could always conjure up some kind of excuse for being out at such an ungodly hour.

Back in our room, I said to Dossey, "I'll try and cover up for you during the dawn tattoo. When we leave for jogging, that would be your window of opportunity. You should be gone before we return."

"Don't you worry, I'll be long gone before you return." We tried to catch some sleep. I woke Dossey up before leaving for the dawn tattoo, bade him farewell and left. As usual, when the roll was called, each cadet responded accordingly. Because it was dark, it was impossible to physically verify our individual identities. So the instructors relied on our responses as evidence of our presence.
When my name was called, "Officer Cadet Amoabeng?" I responded in my natural voice,
"Yes sir!" However, when Dossey's name was called,
"Officer Cadet Dossey?" I disguised my voice and responded on his behalf,
"Yes sir!"

It was a heart-in-mouth moment. Fortunately for me, I got away with it. We proceeded on our routine early morning jogging. As usual, we sang along heartily. All the while, I hoped that Dossey had managed to get away successfully.

We returned to the academy about an hour and half later, and were dismissed to go start our cleaning exercises. I headed back to my room to fetch the implements I needed for the exercise.

When I entered our room, to my consternation, Dossey lay there fast asleep! Goodness me! How on earth could he be fast asleep? I was dumbfounded.

But I quickly regained my composure and hurriedly woke him up.

"What are you doing?" I asked in exasperation. He regarded me vacuously without answering. "Whether you like it or not, you have to leave! You're not prepared for the day's activities. Your luggage is in the bush; no uniform, nothing!"
But how was he going to slip away in broad day light? I had to help him out. I was too deeply involved to leave him to his own devices. My mind raced for a solution. I quickly grabbed a cutlass and a broom and handed him one and said, "Let's go!"

We doubled outside ostensibly to clean the compound. But rather, we headed strategically towards the mango grove. Fortunately for us, we got there without any incident. Dossey quickly retrieved his luggage and I bade him farewell once again. It was a very touching moment.

"My brother, the bigger world is out there," I said. "You probably would make it out there. But you're not cut out for this place. I wish you well." We hugged warmly. He thanked me for everything. We hugged one more time and then he picked up his luggage and left. I'm not one who is easily moved by emotions. If I were, I would've shed a tear or two as I watched him go.

This happened about three weeks into our training at the academy. I went about my duties as though nothing had happened. We assembled for our morning tattoo. Now that day had broken, the instructors could clearly see everyone. It was therefore impossible to respond on anyone's behalf.

The roll was called as usual. "Officer Cadet Amoabeng?" "Sir, yes sir!" I answered. "Officer Cadet Dossey?" No answer. "Officer Cadet Dossey?" Again no answer. The whole place fell silent. "Who is his roommate?" the instructor asked. "Sir, I sir?" I answered. "Where's Officer Cadet Dossey?" "Sir, I'll go and check, sir," I answered innocently. I doubled to my room, quickly ate some gari to fill my stomach - I suspected it was going to be a long day- and doubled back to the assembly point.

"Sir, he's not there, sir," I reported. "What do you mean he's not there? Where's he?" "Sir, I don't know sir!" I lied.

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