Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 95 We Are United as One (Part 4)
Bandar led his army and swept across the entire square like autumn leaves in the wind, and the resisting Zion soldiers fell to the ground, shot one after another.

The people of Ghanam rushed out from all directions, carrying pitchforks, sticks, and glass bottles, shouting as they charged at the enemy.

The remaining Zion soldiers tried to organize and hold their ground, but their formation was quickly overwhelmed by the angry mob.

Lieutenant Henry was about to fire at a woman who was charging at him with a machete when he pulled the trigger, but the gun jammed.

"Allahu Akbar!!"

The sharp machete cleaved into Lieutenant Henry's chest, and the shadow of death instantly loomed over him.

Lieutenant Henry fell down with his gun still in his hand.

"Don't be impulsive! Watch out for the enemy!"

Bandar watched the situation with growing anxiety. The anger of the masses was ignited and spread like wildfire, with people rushing towards the enemy's positions.

"Hey! Guerrillas!" he called to his bandana-wearing teammate beside him, "Quickly stop them, the enemy still has weapons, this is too dangerous!"

But the guerrilla fighter laughed: "Let them charge, Colonel. They've been holding back for too long. If I didn't have a mission to complete, I'd be ahead of them!"

At this moment, many civilians gathered around the tank, their eyes fixed on the fluttering flag.

The sunlight shone on the banners, making them appear as if they were edged with gold.

"General, what country are you from? I've never seen this flag before," asked Mr. Badov, who was over eighty years old.

"We are the expeditionary force of the northern border region of Shuangzhi," Bandar shouted. "This is the military flag bestowed upon us by His Majesty!"

Grandpa Badov shook his head: "No, you must be angels sent by God, like Gibril, to help us defeat the followers of Qurayshdo!"

Bandar thought to himself that if Ulima in the army heard this, he would be in big trouble.

But he also felt that what the old man said was quite apt. If Major General Amir was "Gibrald," then they and their ilk were his angels. Perhaps if Tamil knew about it, he would be very interested in writing a biography about him.
Bandar advised, "Sir, why don't you go back inside? It's not safe here."

"I've been inside long enough," said Uncle Badov. "Let me see the fate of these heretics with my own eyes."

The wave of anger gradually subsided, and the screams of the Zion soldiers had ceased.

Bloodstained steel forks and broken rifles were driven deep into the soil. Old people and women walked to the bodies of the rebels and closed their eyes.

Bandar shouted, "Everyone, scatter! The war isn't over yet! Zion's eyes are still lurking in the corners; they'll bomb areas where people gather! Don't huddle together!"

The Zionist devils had no morals whatsoever; they would slaughter unarmed civilians in order to kill their soldiers.

Along the way, Bandal saw charred marks everywhere; those Zion scum must have burned every block with flamethrowers.

The guerrillas and soldiers began to organize the evacuation of the crowd. The remains of Zion soldiers were scattered among the broken bricks and stones. Everyone couldn't help but look at the tanks, and then their eyes were focused on the flag.

Bandar didn't know what to say at this moment. If it were a major general, he would probably say something that would be both comforting and encouraging.

He patted the armor and said to the driver, "Let's move on."

The tank engines roared again, their tracks crushing the rubble and smashing the Zion soldiers' helmets, kicking up clouds of dust.

Looking in the direction the tanks had gone, someone couldn't help but sigh, "We once regarded the government forces of Al-Ilag as our salvation, but now we have been saved by the troops of Shuangzhi."

A middle-aged man slapped his forehead, exclaiming in annoyance, "Oh dear, we were so close just now, how could I forget to ask the general's name!"

A guerrilla fighter standing nearby laughed and said, "His name is Bandar, but you should remember the commander who led them, Major General Amir."

"It was because of his order to rush to Ghanam that we are alive today." The man clapped his hands. "Oh, the Eagle of the Desert! I've heard of him! The hero who defeated Zion's forces more than once!"

Just then, Muaviye saw several teenagers preparing to chase after the double-ranking officer's tank, and shouted, "Hey, what are you doing!"

“We have to go help!” Tufyl said, turning around. “We may not be able to shoot, but we can lead the way!”

"You'd better not cause any more trouble. Not causing trouble for the general is the biggest help you can give."

Muaviyeh laughed and said, "What the general truly hopes for is that you can survive and see the day we win!"

Several young people dragged a few door panels out of the ruins and used them as a makeshift stretcher.

The old woman in the black robe bent down, pried open the fingers of a fallen soldier, and wiped the blood from his face.

"Where is the Imam?" she asked again, this time in a louder voice.

A coughing sound came from the street corner, and an old man with a white headscarf walked over shakily. His once-white robe was now dirty. He was the imam of this community.

Someone handed him a pot of water, but the old man didn't take it. Instead, he knelt down to examine the body.

He pried open the deceased's jaw, dipped his finger in saliva, and smeared it on the person's forehead. The old woman in the black robe took out a piece of coarse cloth from her bosom, unfolded it, and covered the corpse's face.

"May God grant you peace as well as courage."

The old man read aloud in a low voice, and the others silently followed along.

The women and the elderly were very restrained; everyone wanted to do their part in this war.

But perhaps the only thing they can do now is to collect the remains of those martyrs and let them find peace.

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.

Northern Area Army (this will be the standard term from now on) Headquarters.

While surveying the entire situation through the eagle's perspective, Lu Lin also checked the military map. Their troops were advancing steadily and would soon be able to see the municipal government across the Taino River (a tributary of the Euphrates River).

"Major General," a communications soldier brought good news: "Platoon Leader Tamim of the reconnaissance battalion just reported that they and the guerrillas have captured the Zubel Waterworks in the Mord district. The Zionians have lost this important position, and our armored forces can now advance unimpeded."

Ibrahim laughed and said, "According to feedback from soldiers on the front lines, the Zionians' anti-tank firepower is decreasing, which means that their reserves should have been deployed by now."

"Major General, victory is in sight."

The guerrillas in Garnam were more tenacious and brave than they had imagined. Perhaps their hatred for the Zionites was ingrained in their bones. Their fearless fighting style secretly alarmed Lu Lin.

"If the government forces in Al-Iraq hadn't abandoned their plans to continue the offensive..."

Lu Lin had mixed feelings.

War always sacrifices the noble and allows the cowardly to eke out a living.

"The battle line is about to go beyond the firing range. Let the artillery advance and occupy the high ground and advantageous terrain outside the city."

He said, "We must press on and reclaim this city from Zion's hands."

Ibrahim nodded: "I believe that day is not far off."

(End of this chapter)