Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 132 The Last Respect
The air above the 210th Armored Division's position in Sergei, Zion, smelled of "meat."

Several Zion soldiers were gathered around a campfire, with a few bullets pried open nearby, and something brownish-red was cooking inside an empty meat can.

After several days of experimentation, they discovered that belts are indeed edible.

We should really thank the logistics staff who didn't cut corners.

After being completely besieged in Sergiad, they were initially able to "borrow" some food from nearby Arab villages, but later they looted everything they could.

"I really don't know how the Seres discovered that this stuff is edible." A new recruit stared at the boiled, whitish leather belt and smiled bitterly.

"It's better than nothing," the veteran said, putting a piece of boiled leather belt into his mouth and chewing. It tasted like tough, chewy meat tendons, with a fishy and bitter sour flavor. He could only imagine that he was eating beef jerky. He comforted the new recruit, saying, "At least it's salty, which will replenish your salt."

Sporadic artillery fire could be heard in the distance. The siege of Shuangzhi and Surya had lasted for three weeks. The 210th Division's supply line had long been cut off. The soldiers had run out of food, and some were even chewing on the grease used for maintaining their guns.

Lieutenant General bin Laden stood in the command post, listening to his staff report the casualty figures. His eyes were sunken, and his uniform hung loosely on his body.

"General, a letter from headquarters has been airdropped!" The communications soldier suddenly rushed in.

Lieutenant General Laden's eyes lit up immediately. He took the letter, his fingers trembling slightly. He thought reinforcements had finally arrived, but upon unfolding it, he found it was a letter of promotion—

[Lieutenant General David Laden has been promoted to Army General of Zion, effective immediately, and assumes full command of the Western Command.]

The letter also included some other things—

Two brand-new shoulder patches, each bearing three silver olive leaves and the Zion coat of arms.

A collared corsage made of pure gold and inlaid with rubies.

A ceremonial dagger, with the Torah inscribed on the scabbard and the Hebrew inscription "(The glory of Zion never lies)" on the hilt.

His soldier's manual was also stamped with a six-pointed star fire paint seal, stating "any civilian resources may be requisitioned," and his rank was changed to general.

The command post was deathly silent.

Lieutenant General Laden stared at the order and suddenly smiled.

"The gentlemen in Tel Aviv have promoted me." He handed the telegram to his adjutant: "Look how thoughtful they are, they even airlifted the rank of general."

The adjutant turned pale after reading the contents.

He and everyone in the command post knew what this meant. It wasn't a promotion at all; they were being made scapegoats for the defeat on the Western Front!

Lieutenant General Laden slowly walked to the map, his finger tracing the encircled defensive line. He recalled his thirty-year military career—witnessing his family's massacre by the Prosenians as a child, fleeing alone to Arafat; participating in the First Arab-Israeli War in 1367, becoming a tank platoon leader and receiving the Order of David for his bravery; in the Suez Canal War of 1376, at the Mitra Pass, he followed the 2nd Infantry Brigade and the 202nd Airborne Brigade, trapped deep in enemy territory, holding out for three days and finally cutting off Masr's retreat route, after which he was promoted to lieutenant colonel.
"Lieutenant General." His adjutant's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Lieutenant General Laden looked at him: "From now on, you are the commander of the 210th Armored Division."

The adjutant froze on the spot: "General?"

"Bring me my sidearm," Lieutenant General Laden suddenly said.

The staff officers present looked at each other, and no one stepped forward.

"Excuting an order."

In the end, it was the adjutant who did it. When the silver-plated Beretta was handed to him, bin Laden stroked the engraving on the gun, a souvenir personally given to him by Prime Minister Hilbert.

He put on his brand-new general's rank insignia and straightened his collar.

“Tell the soldiers,” Lieutenant General Laden glanced one last time at the twilight outside the command post, “to surrender.”

"Everyone out, close the door, and come back in two minutes later."

The adjutant nodded and gave General Laden a final salute.

So everyone stood at the door, and a moment later a gunshot rang out from the command room.

Everything returned to calm.

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 Colonel Bandar trudged through the scorched earth into the 210th Division's position, the Zion soldiers silently made way for him.

The adjutant approached, holding bin Laden's general's medal, his voice hoarse: "The 210th Division surrendered to Shuangzhi, but General bin Laden ended his life in a dignified manner." Bandar took the medal, representing a general, and tossed it in his hand.

Adjutant: "Now you are also an Arab officer who accepted General Zion's surrender. I hope you will treat you well in consideration of this achievement."

Bandar scoffed, "You think I can't see through your little scheme?"

The adjutant was quite frank: "We have studied the weaknesses of various Arab countries. To be honest, don't you have any thoughts about setting up your own independent entity?"
"By capturing a Zion general, you could even be on par with that Amir."

“That only proves that your Mossad is just for show. Getting promoted in Shuangzhi is more complicated than you think, but also much simpler.” Bandar stuffed the medal into his pocket: “Besides, I’m only good at fighting. I can be a general, but I’d rather not be a commander.”

The adjutant looked regretful, but in fact he hadn't had any expectations, since it was just a spur-of-the-moment decision.

After Bandar finished speaking, he turned to look at the smiling Taimiye and said, "You must write down everything I just said and show it to the Major General later."

Taimi nodded happily.

"How is Major General Amir doing now?"

Bandar looked at his adjutant and then tossed him the New York Times. After reading the front page headline, the adjutant's expression was quite interesting.

Bandar appeared very proud: "Look! Major General Amir is someone you can never defeat. He's not only alive and kicking now, but one day he will lead the Arabs to conquer Tel Aviv and plant his flag on the Prime Minister's building!"

"Indeed," the adjutant said, his expression somber, before finally letting out a sigh, "a remarkable young man indeed."

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.

Zion, Tel Aviv, Prime Minister's Building.

Snapped!
Prime Minister Hilbert smashed his teacup, roaring, "The 210th Division surrendered?! I gave him the rank of general, this isn't a dignified surrender—it's making him die like a soldier!!"

General Yesavishin paused for a moment: "But he is also a general, and he has to consider the future of his soldiers."

At that moment, the secretary delivered new intelligence: "Report, it has been confirmed that General Laden committed suicide."

The secretary handed over the photos, some of which were officially released by Shuangzhi, and others were obtained through secret intelligence.

Hilbert saw the bloodstained Poletta among the belongings, a gift he had given to bin Laden, with the words "Fight for Zion" engraved on the grip.

After a long silence, he finally said to Defense Minister Moda, "Since this is bin Laden's last wish, I will grant it and issue a national announcement attributing the main reason for the defeat in the western campaign to General bin Laden's command errors."

"Yes, sir." Commander Morda accepted the order.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

At this moment, the head of the war preparedness department came to report: "Your Excellency, based on the intelligence we currently have, perhaps it is time to put the new model that we have been preparing to produce on the agenda."

"Oh?" Prime Minister Hilbert's eyes lit up: "You've already finished the blueprints?"

"Yes, the new tank is an upgrade based on the Chieftain, and it has been specially modified for the desert environment, making it comparable to a second-generation tank."

Hilbert frowned: "What if we can't beat Shuangzhi's new tanks? I heard they received secret aid from the United States!"

The supervisor confidently stated, "You can rest assured that those tanks are not only rare and difficult to popularize, but also extremely difficult to maintain. Our advantages are obvious: they are inexpensive, easy to maintain, and have inherited the United Kingdom's 120mm main gun technology, so penetrating the T-62's armor is no problem at all."

Prime Minister Hilbert was relieved after hearing this. "So, what do you plan to call our first domestically produced tank?"

“Merkava,” the supervisor replied.

The word comes from the Hebrew word for "chariot" and also appears in the Book of Ezekiel, representing "a symbol of God's coming".

Hilbert nodded: "Okay, let's call him Merkava."

At the government meeting that evening, officials denounced the "traitorous general," but after the meeting, Hilbert met with two key ministers, and the three of them opened a bottle of whiskey and poured three glasses.

He raised the first glass: "To bin Laden."

Moda and Yeshavishen also raised their glasses: "To Zion."

(End of this chapter)