Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 117 Fierce Battle (Part Two)

With the addition of Zion forces, Hassan felt the pressure on the front lines increase dramatically.

Grenades began to fall, focusing their fire on the machine gun nests. Several shells struck the front line of the position, creating craters with a radius of five meters, and the smoke and dust instantly obscured the view.

Mortar?
Hassan didn't see any towed artillery, then he remembered there were also grenade launchers, guessing that the other side had deployed infantry positions on the reverse slope.

"All troops retreat! Retreat to the second line of defense!"

Hassan grabbed Mohammed and dragged the staggering Habrish backward.

They had just retreated when a high-explosive shell blew up their firing position.

Hassan noticed that the recruit's crotch was soaked, but there was nothing to be ashamed of, as enemy machine guns were firing at them, seemingly right up to his heels.

Muhammad's leg was cut open by shrapnel, and blood soaked through his trousers, but he didn't stop. He gritted his teeth and limped after Hassan.

They stumbled into the trenches of the second line of defense. Hassan collapsed to the ground and realized that his right hand was very heavy. He turned his head and saw that Hablish had been shot and had stopped breathing.

His eyes were wide open, while the recruit's eyes had lost their sparkle.

Hassan released his grip, panting heavily. He noticed his right hand was trembling uncontrollably.

"Don't just stand there, the battle isn't over yet!"

Hassan snapped out of his daze when someone shouted in their ear, grabbed his rifle, and reloaded the magazine with trembling hands.

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 the flank, Bandar was leading an armored group in a charge, and the Kurdish-Zionist coalition forces were routed before them, with burning wreckage everywhere.

However, this high cost allowed the main force of the armored division to successfully break through and continue advancing towards Ghanam.

"Colonel, they seem to be planning a full-scale assault," Major Dillar of the 7th Armored Battalion reported. "In addition, our communication system seems to be malfunctioning; the radio is out of service."

Bandar frowned. It sounded like electronic weapons from Zion.

They had encountered this once before during the attack on Ghanam, but it was dealt with by Major General Amir.

After a brief moment of thought, he quickly came up with a solution: if the major general could solve it once, then it must be able to solve it a second time!
"Should we retreat and provide support now?" Major Dillar asked.

Bandar surveyed the battlefield. The major general had ordered him to annihilate the enemy's manpower, but now, the enemy's most elite armored forces had chosen to force a breakthrough, leaving the air defenses and artillery behind.

Watching the enemy forces begin to retreat, a bold idea quickly took shape in Bandar's mind.

Let's move!

Although our own defenses are currently weak, the other side is in the same boat.

If all else fails, we'll just have to fight it out and see whose headquarters gives out first!

Bandar steeled his resolve and, out of unconditional trust in his major general, decided to take a gamble.

Bandar gave the order directly: "Use flag signals to inform all units that the original plan remains unchanged: annihilate the enemy's follow-up forces with all our might! We must completely crush them here!"

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.

Upon learning that the radio was malfunctioning, Lu Lin's first thought was that Zion had sent another radio jamming vehicle.

The range of this device is roughly from a few kilometers to more than ten kilometers. He tried to use the eagle's perspective to find enemy units, but probably because the other party had already taken cover, Lu Lin did not find any trace of RAF at the first moment.

"I was careless!" Lu Lin clenched his fist in frustration. He realized he had relied too much on this special ability.

"Immediately switch to low-frequency signals to avoid interference blind spots," he quickly ordered. "Pre-set six backup frequencies, and switch in sequence when interference occurs in the future."

After saying that, he turned to Fahad and said, "Go and inform Bandar, and be quick."

"Understood!" Fahd had just finished saluting and turned around when he nearly bumped into the messenger who rushed in. The messenger, panting, stood at attention: "Urgent report!"

"Speak!" This feeling of being completely in the dark made Lu Lin very uncomfortable, as if every situation was never good news.

"News has come from the 3rd Battalion of the 1st Armored Brigade: they have made contact with the main armored forces of Zion!"

Everyone in the command center felt a jolt of fear.

Fahd stopped in his tracks immediately, looking at Lu Lin with a somewhat bewildered expression.

“Execute your orders!” Lu Lin glared at him.

As the head coach, he had to remain calm, even though the news instantly plunged his spirits into despair.

"Why so fast?" Ibrahim frowned in thought. "Could they have grown wings and flown here?"

This is a day and a half faster than they had expected!

“Perhaps they didn’t take the main road, but instead advanced covertly through the valley,” Ahmed suggested. “If they traveled day and night without regard for losses, the time would indeed match up.”

The terrain in western Al-Ilag is so complex that even an entire army group would be lost there, let alone a division.

The Kurds to the north hadn't been dealt with yet, and the Tin Armored Division to the west was already at the city's gates. Adding to the pressure, communications were being disrupted. This sense of urgency made Lu Lin's temples throb. Everyone was waiting for his orders.

Lu Lin switched to the eagle's perspective and controlled Enqi to fly westward. The most urgent task now was to find out what was going on.

At this moment, he could only control an aerial viewpoint. Lu Lin was extremely anxious, and even this cheat was not enough for him.

The pressure seemed to be coming at him from all directions. At that moment, he realized that he had forgotten something. He was so focused on telling Bandar to switch channels that he forgot to inform the Third Battalion.

"Damn it," Lu Lin slapped his forehead and switched his perspective back.

Turning to the communications officer: "Go and notify them."

By the way, what was that battalion commander's name again?

Then he remembered that he had asked the other person to write their name in a notebook.

"Diago Benzelko Benz Hamzadro"

This notebook recorded two groups of names. The first group consisted of the self-defense force members who volunteered to cover for Lu Lin in Nukoshir and sacrificed their lives. In the end, only Ahmed and Fahd survived.

The second batch was the Third Armored Battalion, which he sent to the front lines. Besides Battalion Commander Diego, Lu Lin also saw two familiar names: the two young men who had promoted "nylon stockings" for dust protection.

It would be great if we could notify the front lines directly.

Lu Lin reissued the order to the communications officer: "Go and inform Major Diego Ben Serko Ben Hamzadro to lower the radio frequency to 27.115MHz."

The moment the name was uttered, a strange sensation suddenly swept through my mind, as if I had crossed dozens of kilometers to establish a connection with some being.

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.

Meanwhile, the 3rd Battalion of the 1st Armored Brigade of Shuangzhi.

"Still can't get in touch with command?" Major Diego asked anxiously.

"No, the signal is being jammed," the communications soldier said anxiously, sweating profusely. "In this situation, we can only wait for command to switch to a new channel."

The command vehicle was deathly silent. By the time the messenger returned, enemy tanks would likely have already stormed into Canam.

"Then let's try all the channels!"

Diego's back was soaked with cold sweat. They could sacrifice themselves, but the headquarters could not be lost.

Just then, a voice suddenly rang in his ear: "Inform Major Diego Ben Serko Ben Hamzadro to lower the radio frequency to 27.115MHz."

"Major General?!"

Diego's eyes widened, and he jumped to his feet. He thought he had just heard the major general's voice!

"Is the radio fixed?"

"No, it's still being adjusted."

Diego got goosebumps all over. Was he hallucinating?

But the sound was so clear that, almost unconsciously, he blurted out, "27.115MHz, tune the channel to this frequency."

27.115MHz?

Although the communications soldier was somewhat puzzled, he did as instructed.

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.

"Have him tune the radio frequency down to 27.115MHz."

Inside the headquarters, Lu Lin had just finished speaking.

Suddenly, a noisy electrical sound came through the radio, like static from a signal change, before it subsided.

Then a clear male voice came through:
"This is the 3rd Battalion of the 1st Armored Brigade. I am Diego Ben Serko Ben Hamzadro."

"Headquarters, please respond."

"."

"Major General, can you hear me?"

"."

In the headquarters, everyone's eyes were fixed on Lu Lin, so intensely that they felt as if they were burning holes in him.

The communications soldier opened his mouth: "Should I still go now?"

Lu Lin couldn't immediately determine what had happened, but the situation on the front lines was more important than any supernatural phenomenon.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, he steadily walked towards the radio and picked up the communicator:
"Headquarters received, Diego, report your situation."

(End of this chapter)