Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 109 "Blitzkrieg"

"Have you heard? The prophet came to serve as the major general's orderly."

Signalman Mujahid quietly gossiped with his colleague Zuhair.

"Isn't this normal? The major general is a prince of the royal family. He must have servants at home. There's nothing strange about it."

Zuhair glanced around, then whispered, "When I was an orderly in the Royal Army Guard, those princes kept servants in the army. There were more maids than guards! There were maids to help with dressing, to polish boots, and even maids to massage the general's camels!"

He then added, "The general even paid his servants military pay!"

Mujahid had never heard of massaging camels being a job, so he paused for a couple of seconds, conveniently ignoring the issue of receiving a salary without working, and then continued:
"But she's a prophet, the church's darling! Not an ordinary woman!"

“But a major general isn’t an ordinary man! Don’t forget what everyone calls a major general these days.” Zuhair glanced at him.

"You mean the church tacitly approves of all this?" Mujahid asked in surprise.

“Anyway, Imam Tamiya never objected,” Zuhair shrugged. “And I heard he was also enthusiastically collecting rumors about the Major General, which might be the Church’s support for him.”

Mujahid completely stopped what he was doing and the more he thought about it, the more sense it made.

After all, in the Shuangzhi army, even a prince who dares to call himself an "apostle" or "angel" will get into big trouble.

But when it came to Major General Amir, nothing happened at all.

Zuhair got more and more excited as he spoke: "If you ask me, sending just one isn't enough. We should send four, since it's stipulated in Islamic law anyway."

Just then, a series of "bang bang bang" sounds came from behind them, startling the two of them.

When they turned around, it felt like they had fallen into an ice cave.

A man dressed in a standard white robe with red cloth tied around his arm stood at the door, holding a short stick and looking at the two with a half-smile.

If Lu Lin saw this, he would definitely exclaim, "Holy crap, Assassin's Creed!"
"Ulima!"

Zuhair wanted to slap himself; he was filled with remorse.

The Ulimah Church sent him to do ideological work with the troops and was also responsible for enforcing military discipline. Based on the two sentences he just said, he should be locked up for at least two months!

“From now on, do not speak ill of the Major General, or even the Apostles and Angels, behind their backs,” Ulima said. “This is a serious violation of discipline!”

Mujahid, as if possessed, interjected, "What if we put the Major General and the Apostle together?"

Ulima thought about it seriously for a moment, and then surprisingly nodded: "There is no rule about that."

Zuhair quickly changed the subject with a smile: "What brings you here?"

“It was just on the way,” Ulima said with a slight smile beneath his serious expression. “We might see each other often in the future.”

Zuhair immediately went through all the disciplinary violations he had committed in the past three months in his mind, and the beads of sweat on his forehead became even thicker.

“No need to guess anymore,” Ulima decided to stop teasing the two unlucky guys: “This is the latest church regulation. All church personnel in the army must be assigned to company-level units, train with the soldiers in peacetime, and receive no special treatment in battle.”

As he spoke, he deliberately lifted his robe to reveal the pistol at his waist.

Just as Mujahid and Zuhair were exchanging bewildered glances, lamenting the bleak future ahead, an urgent call suddenly came through the radio: "This is Sand Fox, Sergiad is under attack! Repeat, Sergiad is under attack!"

Zuhair lunged forward and grabbed the microphone: "This is headquarters, report the details! Who attacked you?"

At the same time, he frantically gestured to Mujahid, who immediately understood—go find the major general!
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.

On a watchtower outside Sergiad, Private Qasim was chewing gum with utter boredom.

From Sergiad to Ghanam, Colonel Ibrahim deployed several outposts along the route, partly to ensure the transport of supplies and partly to prevent enemy attacks.

Downstairs, Lieutenant Harris was welding empty oil drums onto the tank's grille, sparks flying everywhere. A new recruit, Jamaluddin, squatted nearby and asked, "Will this work? A broken tin drum can stop a rocket?"

"Don't you understand?"

Lieutenant Harris wiped the sweat from his brow and explained, "This thing is for protecting against infantry rocket launchers. It can trigger the pre-fuze in advance, causing the rocket to explode a certain distance from the main armor, thus weakening the penetrating power of the metal jet."

Jamaluddin nodded as if he understood, but he had only been trained for nine months from enlistment to going to the battlefield, so he didn't quite understand these advanced terms.

Night always comes very quickly in the desert; the sun has just sunk below the horizon when darkness envelops the surroundings.

Qasim yawned and rubbed his sore eyes; six hours of continuous guard duty had left him exhausted.

"Hey, Qasim!" came a comrade's voice from below the watchtower. "Shift change!"

Qasim felt like he had been granted a pardon and was about to climb down the ladder when he suddenly heard a faint engine sound coming from afar.

"Wait a moment!"

He shouted down, and Qasim hurriedly raised the AN/PVS-2 telescope imported from the United States. The end of the road was still silent in the night vision, but when he switched to thermal imaging mode, he noticed a series of blurry dots of light at the end of the road.

(AN/PVS-2)

As he got closer, he saw the outline of the tank, with a bulge on the side of the turret, like a large tumor.

"Enemy attack!"

Qasim practically fell off the ladder, tumbling and crawling towards the alarm inside the outpost.

A piercing alarm instantly tore through the night sky, throwing the entire outpost into chaos. "Target confirmed!" Lieutenant Abdullah, the outpost commander, snatched the binoculars. "It's Zion's Chieftain tanks, at least a company's worth. This is the advance force!"

"How did they get here?" Lieutenant Harris quickly climbed onto the tank turret. "This is deep inside the enemy lines. Has the Hashim been breached?"

Abdullah did not answer; he lunged at the communications equipment: "Sandfox calling headquarters! Sergeid is under attack! Repeat, Sergeid is under attack!"

At the same time, the first shell had already arrived with a whoosh, exploding into a fireball outside the outpost.

The shockwave from the explosion shattered the windows of the outpost, and Qasim was thrown to the ground by the blast, his ears ringing.

"All personnel, to your positions!" Lieutenant Abdullah's voice rang in their ears: "Prepare for battle!"

Qasim stumbled and crawled toward his position, seeing several comrades frantically operating anti-tank missiles along the way.

The tank column in the distance had already deployed into battle formation, its steeply inclined tracks traversing the hills as if walking on flat ground, rapidly approaching them.

The anti-tank team at the outpost finally finished loading the missile, and with a sharp whistle, the missile streaked towards one of the Chieftain tanks.

In the flash of the explosion, the tank's turret tilted to one side, but the other tanks immediately scattered, releasing smoke grenades at the same time.

While directing the defenses, Lieutenant Abdullah continued to call for support via radio: "Enemy force size: approximately one armored company, equipped with infantry fighting vehicles! Requesting artillery support! Coordinates."

Before he could finish speaking, a shell hit the main building of the outpost.

Qasim felt dizzy and, when he woke up again, he found himself buried under rubble. He moved his legs and found them numb. When he saw the steel bars stuck in his legs, a piercing pain suddenly came.

Then he looked up and saw the dark fighter jets rapidly approaching in the night sky, bringing with them a thunderous roar.

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.

"We were ambushed?"

Lu Lin rushed to the communications room. When he heard that the attack on Sergei was carried out by the Tin Armored Forces, his first reaction was disbelief. How could this be?

Their team started from Hafbar in the northern border region, passed through Hashim, traveled to Sergiad, and then took Highway 53 to Ghanam.

The fact that Zion's armored forces could now appear behind them meant that Zion either bypassed them through Surria or, like them, took a route through Hashim.

Lu Lin preferred the former, since southern Surria was now completely under Zion's control, and they could use the road from Damascus to Rutbay to launch a rapid armored assault.

"Contact the Ministry of National Defense immediately," Lu Lin ordered. "Request that they send air force reconnaissance to ascertain the size of Zion's forces this time."

Furthermore, immediately question the Hashim Kingdom: why was such crucial intelligence not warned in advance?

Just then, Ibrahim, having received the news, rushed over, accompanied by Taymiyeh, who was dressed in a peculiar outfit. He wore a simple white robe with striking black shoulder straps and held a jujube wood cane in his hand.

Lu Lin: "Why are you dressed like this?"

Taimiye said solemnly, "I'm dressed as a proper Islamic judge! We've been instructed to establish a theocratic system."

Ibrahim turned to look at Lu Lin: "Are you preparing for war again?"

Lu Lin nodded: "Our outpost in Sergei was attacked, reportedly by Zion's armored forces."

"Have the Zionians gone mad?" Ibrahim frowned. "It's almost 500 kilometers from Damascus. Their tanks will probably break down halfway there!"

“Don’t forget they’re stationed at the 38th Division, and there are also Kurds to the north,” Lu Lin said. “As soon as their troops to the west arrive, they can launch a pincer attack on us.”

The reason for this is that the Surria front has collapsed, and now the Zion forces can roam freely on the Jezira Plain.

“It seems the oil embargo has made them furious,” Tamiya said thoughtfully. “I heard that our oil embargo this time was very successful, causing the stocks of those capitalist companies to plummet. They’re in dire straits.”

"Stocks...are they really that important?" Fahad asked, as if he had just heard a new word.

"Of course, that's the lifeblood of those capitalists!" Tammy spread his hands. "Otherwise, why would you be so eager to urge Zion to attack us, as if we killed their parents?"

Then everyone turned their attention to the major general, since it was ultimately up to him whether or not to fight.

Although the retreat route to the west has been cut off, Lu Lin and his group can still choose to go east to Baghdad, and then return to Shuangzhi via Al-Iraq and Kervit.

Of course, the price was the loss of Ghanam, turning this grand oil embargo into a laughing stock around the world.

At the same time, the Arab world's only victory in this war will also vanish.

"No matter what, the most important thing is to get the civilians in the city ready," Lu Lin instructed Taimiye. "Make sure everyone is prepared to take refuge on the spot. I'm leaving this task to you."

It's impossible to evacuate hundreds of thousands of people in four or five days. A large number of people would be stuck on major transportation routes, and they might even paralyze themselves first.

Taimiye agreed: "This is my job anyway, so leave it to me."

Ibrahim watched as Tamiyah's figure disappeared through the door, then asked, "What about us?"

"Let's see what the royal family decides,"

Lu Lin's expression was as firm as iron: "If they want to fight, then we will fight."

　I didn't write well last night, so I deleted it and rewrote it this morning. Sorry for posting it late, brothers. There will be another chapter this afternoon or evening.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)