Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 106 Thunder
14th of the 10th month of the Islamic calendar, on the east bank of the Suez Canal.

Zion time, 3:17 AM.

A squad of several T-55 tanks raced across the valley plain, their engines kept to a minimum. Machine gunner David sat on the turret, his palms sweating profusely.

David muttered a complaint, "This Masr uniform is fucking too tight; the collar is chafing my neck."

"Quiet, keep the channel silent." The battalion commander's order came through the headset: "Remember, you are now the defeated soldiers of the 21st Masr Armored Division."

David glanced at Jacob, the gunner beside him, who was applying face paint to cover his skin color.

“Do you think this will fool them?” Jacob asked in a low voice.

"Give it a try," David shrugged.

Over the past week, Zion has consistently failed to gain the upper hand in the battles on the Sinai Peninsula.

The biggest reason is Masr's SA-6 air defense missile sites, which means that Zion's air force will be targeted by concentrated fire as soon as it gets close to the canal.

Therefore, in order to deal with these air defense positions, General Yeshavishin, the commander of the Zion front, dispatched a special operations team to circle around to the rear of Masr's Second and Third Armies, disguised as Masr's armored forces, in preparation for completely destroying Masr's SA-6 air defense positions.

The squad disguised as Zion quickly crossed the valley and arrived near their designated target location.

Whether it was good luck or not, the journey was surprisingly smooth. David's squad did not encounter any of Masr's patrol teams.

"What have all the people from Masr gone to do?" Jacob found it somewhat unbelievable.

“Who knows,” David said, adding that he wouldn’t be surprised by anything the Arabs did: “They probably never expected us to outflank their air defense positions.”

(Image created by a Bilibili user, covering Lao Wei's historical perspective)

The group thus made their way to the front line of Masr's defenses. At the checkpoint, a sentry wearing a military overcoat peeked out from behind a sandbag bunker, his flashlight sweeping across the T-55 tank's serial number, and the muzzle of his AK-47 slightly raised.
"What part are you in?"

The tank commander replied in fluent Arabic, “We are from the 2nd Battalion of the 21st Division. My troops fought the Zionites to the last moment, and these are the only tanks left!”

David quietly pulled the trigger of the machine gun. If the other side demanded identification from everyone, they would have no choice but to open fire prematurely.

But when the sentry heard the reason, he had a knowing look on his face.

An absurd idea popped into David's head.

Could it be that these people have gotten used to it?
The sentry spat and waved his hand: "Go to the repair shop in the back! Don't block the intersection!"

Everyone in the crew breathed a sigh of relief. The T-55's engine restarted, and this time they weren't so cautious. Instead, it exuded a proud and imposing air.

Jacob grinned: "They actually believed them, those idiots."

“Shut up,” the conductor interrupted him. “It’s not time to celebrate yet.”

Another ten minutes or so later, the special operations team, disguised as Masr armored units, finally arrived at the perimeter of the SA-6 missile site.

By the moonlight, David could clearly see the layout of the position.

A long-track radar antenna was slowly rotating, monitoring the movements of the Zion Air Force in the night sky. Eight SA-6 launchers were lying around it, and two piles of ammunition boxes were casually stacked in the sand pit, without even bothering to cover them with camouflage netting.

The Masr soldiers were warming themselves around a gasoline drum when they saw David and his group, and even waved their water bottles at them.

Seeing that they were completely unprepared, Jacob looked at them with pity, and even felt a little reluctant to fire on them.

David felt his heart begin to race, and his hand unconsciously tightened its grip on the machine gun.

"Zizi-"

A static noise came through the headphones, followed by a brief command:

"All units, fire at will."

Jacob turned the cannon around, and the smile on the face of the Masr soldier who had been waving at him froze instantly.

He already had a vague feeling that something was wrong, but it was too late.

Jacob stepped on the firing pedal, and the T-55's main gun spewed out a blazing white flame, a high-explosive shell directly overturning the radar vehicle.

In the roar of the explosion, the whole world seemed to slow down—

Sergeant David was grinning maliciously as he unleashed machine gun fire.

The ammunition pile was engulfed by the flames of the secondary explosion, and orange-red fireballs rose dozens of meters high;

The soldiers next to the gasoline drums were thrown into the air by the blast wave, tumbling like rag dolls.

The entire air defense position immediately descended into chaos, with Masr's soldiers screaming in terror, a sound that sent Sergeant David's adrenaline soaring.

Some soldiers even tried to climb onto the tank to stop them, but Sergeant David swept them to the ground, and then the driver crushed the unfortunate man with the tracks. "High-explosive shell, good!"

Amid the hum of the rotating turret, a second shell pierced the fuel tank of an SA-6, and a raging fire instantly engulfed the anti-aircraft vehicle. The screams of the Masr soldiers were drowned out by the explosion.

Sergeant David saw a Masr officer, his face covered in blood, standing blankly in the firelight, as if he hadn't yet figured out what had happened.

So he operated the machine gun and fired at the officer. The bullets passed through the officer, making a dull "puff puff puff" sound.

Masr's officer fell, his eyes still wide open as he died.

Five minutes later, not a single Masr soldier on the entire position was able to stand up, and all the anti-aircraft missiles were destroyed.

The tank commander reported: "Target SF-12, cleared."

"Withdraw! Withdraw!" came the commander's order through the headset. "The Air Force will arrive in fifteen minutes!"

Jacob turned to Sergeant David and handed him two crumpled cigarettes. Sergeant David touched the cigarette butts to the muzzle of the machine gun, and then both cigarettes were lit. He returned one of them to Jacob.

The tank began to reverse, and the two men took a deep drag on their cigarettes, the smoke dissipating into the burning battlefield.

Sergeant David smoked a cigarette as he thought to himself:
"How could our Zion's elite forces have been defeated by an army like this just a few days ago?"

Meanwhile, the same scene was playing out at other air defense positions along the Suez Canal.

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.

Masr, Cairo Operations Headquarters.

President Duleva was devastated when he received news that the air defense positions had been destroyed.

"What did you say? Our air defense positions have all been destroyed?!"

Major General Wasil of the Third Army reported: "Yes, a small force from Zion took advantage of a gap in our defenses to slip into the rear, disguised themselves as our soldiers, and destroyed more than 90% of our anti-aircraft firepower."

Previously, Masr had been far too confident, deploying air defense positions not only densely but also without relocating them.

As a result, they were wiped out by the Zion forces who had intelligence on them.

Dullerva felt his limbs trembling after hearing this.

Masr is able to stabilize the situation now thanks to the anti-aircraft missiles provided by Ant, but once they lose these weapons, they will face the same situation as during the Six-Day War.

"How could there be a breach in the defense line?"

President Duleva shouted, "You are responsible for this! Not just you, but Samon too!"

Samon was the commander of Masr's Second Army Group and was in charge of the main attack.

Major General Vasile thought to himself, "Wasn't it because you dismissed Chief of the General Staff Aronmes (the one who had discussed tactics with Lu Lin before the war and participated in the formulation of the 'Badr Plan') and abandoned the advantageous offensive that the current situation has arisen?"

But he still forced himself to persuade him: "Your Excellency, the most urgent task now is to withdraw the tank units that went to support Surria as soon as possible. Without air defense cover, they will become sitting ducks for the Zion forces!"

After seizing control of the east bank of the Suez Canal, Masr did not choose to continue the offensive, but instead consolidated his position.

This gave Zion a chance to catch his breath and turn his attention to Surria's attack.

Enraged, Surria denounced his ally Masr for breaking his promise, and President Duleva, under pressure, had no choice but to send a thousand tanks to support him.

And now, these tank units are heading to the battlefield without their knowledge.

President Dulles then realized what was happening and quickly said, "Give the order immediately! Have these troops turn back and stop advancing!"

But it is already late.

Four hours later, President Duleva received news that made him faint.

He ordered a thousand tanks to be deployed to the African farm region (just a place name), where they were bombed by the Zion Air Force. Due to a lack of anti-aircraft weaponry, more than a quarter of the tanks were destroyed.

This battle also completely eliminated Masr's possibility of attacking, and he completely lost the initiative in the battle.

In a fit of rage, President Duleva smashed everything on the table to the ground, even his glasses shattered.

The assistant came in when he heard the noise and saw the weak president leaning back in his chair with one hand on his head.

"Are you alright?" the assistant asked cautiously.

"Get me a drink, something strong."

Dureva's tone returned to calm: "There are many people who deserve this drink today. I owe them."

(End of this chapter)