Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 92 We Are United as One (Part 1)

At this time, the 45th Armored Brigade of Zion had already withdrawn to the city's defensive lines, and Major General Cohen and his staff were moving out of the city.

The chief of staff said, "Major General Amir on the other side has fallen into our trap! We have already deployed anti-tank mines and established multi-tiered defensive lines and anti-tank teams, relying on reinforced concrete buildings. As long as their armored forces dare to continue advancing, we can wear them down in the city!"

Major General Cohen looked at the city defense map, which was covered with dense red markings. Key locations included the hospital, city hall, and power plant, as well as some extremely densely packed building areas where Zion's soldiers were lying in ambush, ready to deliver a head-on blow to the enemy.

“Excellent!” Major General Cohen declared. “We will turn Garnam into the graveyard of the Dual-Wise Armored Forces!”

He turned to Major Ted beside him: "The rest is up to you. Now you can take your tank battalion and harvest those Shuangzhi tin cans! I want to see their tanks burning in the streets!"

Major Ted stood at attention and saluted. "I can't wait to get my second Medal of David!"

“Each person can only receive one Medal of David,” Major General Cohen reached out to straighten the other’s collar, then smoothed it out. “But I can apply for a Medal of Valor of the same rank for you! Provided you can destroy enough Twin-West tanks!”

Major Ted: "Yes, sir!"

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.

Ahmed has learned of the guerrilla squad's rendezvous with the Shuangzhi armored forces at the guerrilla stronghold in Ghanam.

"Great!" The dark-skinned man in the camouflage vest exclaimed excitedly, "This time we can finally teach those Zion devils a lesson!"

"Ahmed, I saw the Zionist headquarters starting to move out of the city!" A guerrilla rushed in to report.

"Are they trying to escape?" said the guerrilla fighter wearing a headscarf.

“No,” Ahmed analyzed, “Zion has built a lot of defensive nodes in the city. They’re planning to use the city as a buffer zone to wear down the Twin Will forces. We can’t let them retreat so easily!”

A lean and capable guerrilla fighter stood up: "I'll go and lead some men to stop them."

Ahmed instructed, "Focus on harassment, and absolutely avoid direct confrontation. If necessary, blow up bridges and roads to slow down their armored forces!"

At this point, a female guerrilla fighter in charge of intelligence suggested: "Perhaps we can take this opportunity to launch a surprise attack on the government building?"
The Zionists had stockpiled a large amount of ammunition there, and now that they've retreated, their defenses will inevitably be lax. Perhaps we can take this opportunity to wipe them out!

Ahmed's heart skipped a beat; these words had given him a wake-up call.

That’s right!

The city hall is the most complete reinforced concrete building in Canam, complete with a basement. Since the Zionites occupied the city, they have kept a close watch on the building. The guerrillas have tried to enter several times to gather intelligence, but all attempts have failed.

But now Zion is clearly preparing to retreat, so their defenses are definitely not as tight as before. If they can take advantage of this opportunity to destroy Zion's ammunition depot...
“It’s worth a try.” Ahmed stood up, grabbed his rifle, and said, “I’ll lead the team myself. If there’s no opportunity, we’ll retreat immediately.”

"must be careful."

The others nodded in silence. Ahmed glanced around at his comrades one last time, then turned and disappeared from the outpost.

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.

Lieutenant Harry's crew was in the Hammerhead Battalion of the 1st Armored Brigade of Shuangzhi.

Lieutenant Harry was surveying his surroundings when he picked up the radio and said, "T-14 is progressing well."

All around were a jumble of noises: explosions, gunshots, and the roar of tanks, some nearby, others several blocks away.

As part of the Hammerhead Battalion, Lieutenant Harry was at the very front, followed by the guerrillas and Shuangzhi's mechanized infantry company.

He looked up at the surrounding residential buildings and could vaguely see shadows hiding behind the windows.

Not all the residents evacuated; in fact, most chose to stay in their homes with their doors closed.

Just then, a message came over the radio: "This is T-73. Damn it, we've been ambushed by armored forces!"

Lieutenant Harry perked up. He remembered that the T-73 was not far from them, only two blocks away, so he replied, "This is the T-14. Hold on, T-73, we'll be there soon!"

The driver asked, "Lieutenant, can our armor withstand the Chieftain's 120mm main gun?"

His question was quickly answered when an alarming voice came over the radio: "We've been breached!"

M60A1 tank numbered T-14 had just entered the block when Lieutenant Harry saw that tank numbered T-73 at the street corner was already engulfed in flames and the crew was jumping out of the tank.

On the other side of the street, a Chieftain's main cannon was emitting white smoke, with seventeen white rings welded to the side of the turret.

Lieutenant Harry's pupils contracted. This meant that the enemy had destroyed seventeen tanks, making them a true ace crew!

"Reverse!" Lieutenant Harry shouted. The driver quickly shifted into reverse and pressed the accelerator into the chassis with all his might.

He could vaguely hear the sound of the enemy's main gun being cocked.

"High-explosive shell, loading complete—fire!"

The Chieftain's L11A5 main gun fired with a roar, the shell hitting the side of the M60A1's turret directly. The explosion instantly blew off the hatch that Lieutenant Wehri hadn't had time to close.

The blast wave from the high-explosive bomb reverberated inside the vehicle, instantly rupturing Lieutenant Harry's eardrums and causing blood to seep from his nasal cavity.

Lieutenant Harry was knocked unconscious, but he was lucky; the loader, however, was struck in the carotid artery by flying metal fragments and died instantly.

He was then pulled from the deformed turret by the driver and stumbled toward the street corner. The fuel in the tank behind him was ignited, and the fire quickly engulfed the vehicle. The ammunition rack exploded under the high temperature, and fragments of armor flew into the shops along the street.

Seeing that the target had lost its fighting ability, the chieftain's tank commander ordered: "Maintain vigilance and continue to clear out the remaining enemy."

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.

As the sound of artillery fire gradually approached the city, Qasim squatted on the top floor of a building, his breath filled with the smell of gunpowder and burning.

Black smoke rose from the street corner downstairs; it was the burning of a destroyed M60A1 tank.

Downstairs, the shouts of Zion soldiers mingled with the roar of flamethrowers as Zion's elite vehicle crew continued to mop up any guerrillas who dared to show their faces.

"We have to take care of it!" their captain said over the radio, "or we can't move forward!"

Qasim looked around. He needed anti-tank weapons, but the RPG launcher he used before was buried under the rubble. Now he only had two rockets, without launchers.

He looked down at the Chief, where machine gunners were firing at a house. Even though the guerrillas had given advance notice, many people were still unwilling to leave their homes.

Three guerrillas leaped out from behind the barricades to approach, but two of them were shot down by accompanying infantry, and the third was riddled with machine gun fire as soon as he raised the explosive charge.

Qasim's stomach began to spasm.

Over the past two days, he has witnessed too many gruesome deaths, with brains and intestines spilling out onto the ground, and screams stuck in charred throats.

He was terrified of death, terrified to death.

Zion infantry began searching the buildings on both sides. In the blind spot to the right of the tank, a small figure moved along the wall.

When he saw who it was, Qasim's pupils contracted.

Assef!
The enemy's target was clearly the explosive charge of the dead guerrilla fighter.

The two brothers' eyes met in the air, and Qasim could hear his heart pounding wildly.

"No"

He remembered the child who helped his mother set up her stall, he remembered Assef always following behind him, and he remembered the day he brought the boy to join the guerrillas.
Qasim stood up abruptly, as if supported by immense courage.

If this country needs people to sacrifice, then let the adults do it.

Qasim crashed through the bunker, sending rubble raining down. When the Zion soldiers looked up, he had already leaped from the third floor, holding a rocket in each hand.

The warhead struck the tank's engine compartment at a near-vertical angle.

This time he didn't forget to pull the safety pin.

"Allahu Akbar!!"

To the commander's astonishment, the rocket in Qasim's hand exploded.

The chieftain's turret was pierced directly above by a jet of metal. Fragments then bounced wildly inside the turret, and sparks and shock ignited the shells inside. The turret exploded the next second.

The blast wave threw Assef into the air. He collapsed in the ruins, watching the pillar of fire hurle the tank turret into the air, tears blurring his vision.

"Rush!!"

His wailing was drowned out by the shouts of the guerrillas, and countless soldiers rushed out of their bunkers, continuing their charge over the burning wreckage of armor.

(End of this chapter)