Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 83 "A Necessary Betrayal"

The forward command post of the 17th Armored Regiment of Al-Iraq, in the northern suburbs of Baghdad.

Lieutenant Colonel Fadil was hiding in the front-line command post, where the intense artillery fire caused the dirt to fall from above.

Before him stood five Kurdish divisions, and he was now being bombarded by enemy artillery fire.

On the Al-Iraq side, only two armored brigades and one air defense brigade were stationed in the capital Baghdad, and they were mostly equipped with United States equipment that had been phased out during the Faisal era.

Following the Six-Day War, Middle Eastern countries began frantically importing weapons from Ant and the United States, resulting in a significant generational gap between older and newer equipment.

The explosion knocked off the overhead lights in the command post. Lieutenant Colonel Fadil's infantry battalion was pinned down and couldn't even show its face. The communications soldier shouted at the top of his lungs, "Lieutenant Colonel! The Kurdish armored group has broken through the minefield and is less than two kilometers away from us!"

Lieutenant Colonel Fadil grabbed his binoculars and peered out from the observation port. Along the northern sand dune line, rows of centurion gun barrels loomed in and out of view amidst the smoke.

A dark mass of mechanized infantry followed closely behind, flooding over the artillery wreckage outside the defensive line like a tide.

"Is the anti-tank team in position?" he shouted.

"Ready!" the platoon leader shouted. "But our firing line is blocked by the Kurds' smoke, so we can't find the right angle!"

Lieutenant Colonel Fadil frowned. Since the campaign became more intense last year, not only have weapons and equipment been upgraded, but the corresponding strategies have also begun to change. This requires commanders on both sides to have extremely strong adaptability.

The Kurds received aid from the Zionists, not only in the form of weapons, but the Zionists also helped train the Kurds' army. Their relationship was as close as that of brothers in the same bed.

"They're firing smoke grenades, so we're firing smoke grenades too! The 17th Panzer Regiment's main mission is to hold off their attack!" Lieutenant Colonel Fadil ordered. "Then we'll engage them in a firefight through the smoke!"

So the few remaining M48 tanks of the 17th Armored Regiment opened fire, exchanging fire with the Kurdish armored formation from hundreds of meters away.

Suddenly, a deafening explosion rang out near the command post, and the shockwave ripped off half a wall.

Amidst the billowing dust, Fadil saw an M48 tank directly hit, its turret ripped off like a toy and sent flying more than ten meters into the air.

Outside, the Kurdish armored onslaught had already rolled over the first trench, with three Centurion tanks advancing in a wedge formation, fuel nozzles on their front armor spraying flames into the trench.

The infantry following behind them would fire at the burning figures.

The night sky was stained blood red by flames and smoke.

Lieutenant Colonel Fadil struggled to his feet, blood trickling down his forehead, and the intense tinnitus made everything around him seem blurry.

"Driver, loader!"

He rushed toward the nearest still-functioning M48, his vehicle, the hatch of which was blown open and the gunner inside was dead.

Fadil pulled the body out and crawled inside himself.

The turret was filled with the smell of gunpowder and blood, the fire control system malfunctioned due to the vibration, and the gunner's scope was cracked.

But the main gun is still usable.

This is enough.

"Load armor-piercing rounds!"

He roared into the empty vehicle, then realized the loader was dead. So he gritted his teeth, dragged a round from the ammunition rack, put it into the breech, and manually locked it.

The M48's 90mm gun could only penetrate the Centurion's side armor at a range of 500 meters. Lieutenant Colonel Fadil slapped his head hard, trying to reduce the ringing in his ears so he could hear the approaching tanks.

Just then, he noticed a broken sound coming from the radio, so he grabbed it and shouted, "Fadil calling!"

"The communications team can hear us." Lieutenant Colonel Fadil: "Tell Adjutant Abdul that he has been promoted to regimental commander, and the 17th Armored Regiment will be under his command from now on!"

"Lieutenant Colonel," the communications soldier's voice came through the radio in a broken voice, "Major Abdul has just rushed to the front with a rocket launcher to blow up the Kurdish tanks!"

Upon hearing this news, Lieutenant Colonel Fadil felt somewhat relieved for some reason.

How many people are left in the entire group?

"Not many left. Besides our communications platoon, there's less than a company left!"

"Listen!" Fadil gave the final order: "Give the remaining men the order to immediately break up the 17th Armored Regiment into smaller units, and all survivors to move toward Baghdad Assembly Point 2."

"As long as one person is alive, the 17th Armored Regiment will still be in service."

Through the gunner's scope, the lead Centurion tank had closed to within 500 meters, and the Kurdish scimitar symbol painted in white on the front armor of the vehicle was faintly visible.

Fadil ripped the radio off completely, then pressed his right eye against the cracked sight, the crosshairs firmly gripping the fragile ring connecting the Centurion's turret to the hull.

Sweat mixed with blood slid into my eyes, turning the whole world crimson.

"For Al-Iraq—!"

The exhausted steel behemoth responded to him, its 90mm gun spewing flames that pierced through the smoke, exploding into a blinding fireball at the Centurion's turret ring, illuminating the smoke-filled battlefield.

The same scene played out repeatedly on the defensive lines in the suburbs of Baghdad.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Baghdad, government building.

Ba'ath Party leader Jassim Khan was speaking with his deputy Kozoni: "We need to recall the 9th Armored Division immediately, or the government will have to move south right now."

Kozonie frowned: "Perhaps we can call upon the 4th Armored Division of Basra."

Basra is one of the strongholds of the Ba'ath Party. The 4th Armored Division to the south not only has the important task of guarding the port, but also has to be wary of its allies on the same side.

"It's too late. The 28th and 288th Brigades can hold out for at most 36 hours. The only one that can come to our aid during that time is the 9th Armored Division of Euphrates."

Jassim Khan said gravely, “Although it is very difficult, we have no choice but to put aside our plan to encircle the Euphrates front for the time being, since Baghdad is more important.”

Kozone countered, "How are we supposed to explain this to Shuangzhi? And what about the guerrillas in Galam? The people there are creating chaos in the city, waiting for us to coordinate an attack from within!"

The thought of those people, full of hope and fighting a bloody battle, suffocated Cozon.

He knew all too well what awaited these guerrillas if he abandoned his plan to attack Euphrates.

Encirclement, massacre, and the inhumane torture inflicted by the Zionites.

“Listen, I know this is a difficult choice,” Jassim Khan said solemnly. “But the battlefield is ever-changing, and the cruelty of war always means that someone will have to sacrifice. As the leaders of the country and the army, we must always remain clear-headed and make the most favorable judgments about the situation!”

Before Kozonie could say anything, Jassim Khan continued:

The Euphrates front can be retaken, but the loss of Baghdad means a complete defeat for Al-Iraq against the Kurds!
Remember, nothing is too great to be sacrificed for.

Cozonne struggled internally for a long time before finally letting out a helpless sigh.

But there was no time to make a decision now, so he nodded: "I understand."

(End of this chapter)