Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 157 The Victory of Madaba Village

"What did you say? The Eighth Brigade was driven back?! Defeated?!"

Upon hearing the news, Commander Shmuel's expression was not just one of shock, but one of near absurd disbelief.

"Yes, Your Excellency Commander," the deputy chief of staff reported nervously. "Brigadier General Cohen claims that they have been subjected to precise artillery fire from the enemy's heavy artillery cluster. A large number of tanks have been destroyed or broken down, and the infantry units have also suffered heavy casualties and have temporarily lost their offensive capabilities. They urgently need logistical support."

"But I only sent them up there an hour ago! Just an hour!!"

Shmuel's voice rose with anger: "That's a fully equipped armored brigade! Even if you left a thousand pigs there for the Arabs to catch, they couldn't catch them all in an hour! When did Zion's army become so vulnerable?!"

The deputy chief of staff swallowed hard, unsure how to answer.

Shmuel felt dizzy. It wasn't a battalion or a company, but an entire armored brigade! Keep in mind that he had only deployed four main brigades along the 80-kilometer defensive line, and in such a short time, a quarter of them had been wiped out!

Now that this defense line has been breached, what can be used to repair it?
Major General Dov, standing to the side, also looked grave. After Commander Shmuel calmed down a bit, he spoke up: "Your Excellency, we now have to face the fact that the flanks of the front-line troops have been completely exposed."

If the frontline defenders hold their current positions, and Shuangzhi's army manages to penetrate deep into our territory through this gap, our entire forward force risks being encircled! At that point, the loss will not be limited to just one brigade!

Shmuel took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He walked to the map, his gaze sweeping over the jumbled arrows, and asked the crucial question: "Dov, what do you think is Shuangzhi's true strategic intention?"

"It's hard to say, but I think their intentions are probably not just as simple as breaking through the defenses."

Major General Dov pondered for a moment, then pointed to one of the arrows on the map representing the main direction of Shuangzhi's attack: "According to the intelligence we have obtained so far, the commander of Shuangzhi's vanguard this time is Bandar ibn Faisal ibn Turki Al-Shat. He is Amir's sharpest blade, who once led his troops to defeat the Kurdish 'Spear of Freedom' armed division, and in the Battle of Ghanam, he wiped out General Laden's 210th Division. His fighting style is extremely fierce and wild."

Amir sending such a formidable general as the vanguard certainly wasn't just about breaking through the defenses. I suspect he wanted to use Bandar's powerful dribbling ability and aggressive attacking rhythm to disrupt all our plans, and perhaps even use that rhythm to take Tel Aviv directly!

Tel Aviv...

Commander Shmuel's heart sank; the other party's thoughts coincided with his own.

Major General Dov seized the opportunity to propose a bold plan: "Commander, perhaps we should take the initiative to abandon the first line of defense."

"You mean, using depth to buy time?"

“Yes.” Major General Dov nodded. “We can order the forward troops to resist step by step and retreat, using the pre-established positions in the depth to delay the advance of the enemy’s vanguard armored divisions. At the same time, we should immediately order the garrison in the Jerusalem direction and the reserves in the central mountains to move closer to us. As long as Shuangzhi’s main force continues to advance recklessly, we can form a three-sided encirclement of them on the second or even third line of defense!”

Commander Shmuel fell into a conflicted silence. His orders from headquarters were to hold the line for seven days, but only one day had passed.

Regardless of the reason, abandoning the defensive line is a major failure.

However, continuing to hold out could result in the collapse of the entire war zone on the west bank of the Hashim River.

After weighing the pros and cons, Commander Shmuel finally made a difficult decision: "Let's retreat! Order all units at the front to take turns providing cover and retreat to the second line of defense. The headquarters should also move back immediately."

"Yes!"

The deputy chief of staff and Major General Dov saluted and immediately went to carry out the order.

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 west bank of the Hashim River, there is a small village called Madaba, thirty kilometers from the front line.

Before the Six-Day War, Madaba was originally the territory of the Hashemite Kingdom, but it has now become a defensive line for Zion against the Arabs.

The Zionians built numerous fortifications and bunkers here, which could be immediately transformed into forward positions to defend against attacks whenever troops were stationed there.

Now, in the small square of Madaba, the defeated Zion soldiers have turned it into a temporary rest point and a gathering place for the wounded, and the narrow streets are filled with tanks and armored vehicles.

Private First Class Levi carried a stretcher on which lay his comrade, whose calf had been blown to pieces and was bleeding profusely from the makeshift bandages. The man was groaning incessantly.

"Doctor! We need a doctor here!"

"Levy shouted, but now there are wounded everywhere, and the doctors are already too busy to handle them all."

Although the area was violently cleared by soldiers, many villagers still watched from the vicinity. Some immediately turned around and ran back, while others remained standing and watching, and still others whispered among themselves.

Levi's eyes were filled with anger and frustration. Commander Shmuel had personally ordered them to retreat, which was tantamount to admitting that Zion had been defeated by those Arabs. This was worse than death for him.

As a young man who grew up listening to the myth of Zion's invincibility and those promotional slogans, a sense of disorientation, like the collapse of a belief, left him feeling lost. Levi desperately needed help, but everyone was running around, so he could only treat his comrades' injuries according to the first aid manual.

Levi looked at the crowd of onlookers and shouted at the nearest, seemingly honest-looking old man, "Come here!"

"Press on it for me! Yes, press on his wound!"

The old man hesitated for a moment, then slowly walked over and placed his withered hand on the wound of the injured man, which was bleeding profusely.

If there were other people available, Levi wouldn't have asked the villagers for help. He fetched some water and bandages to give his teammate some basic first aid.

His teammate let out a painful groan, and Levi's eyes widened as he cursed, "Damn it! I told you to hold him down, didn't you hear me?!"

The old man glanced at Levi, then lowered his head and continued pressing on his wound: "Yes, sir."

Levi subconsciously adopted a tough stance to maintain their crumbling dignity and sense of superiority.

But now he couldn't sense the other person's fear, which made him feel frustrated.

Levi grabbed the old man by the collar, almost lifting him off the ground, staring intently into his eyes as he demanded, "Do you look down on us?"

The old man replied, "No, sir."

Do you think we're going to lose the war?

"No, sir."

"Then why are you looking at us like that?!"

The old man looked at Levi, whose skin was turning red and whose emotions were about to erupt, but did not answer his question.

However, there was a hint of pity in his eyes.

That look pierced Levi's heart, igniting all the disappointment, shame, and violence that had been building up inside him.

"Old thing!"

He suddenly drew his pistol from his waist and pressed it against the old man's forehead with a "bang!" "Are you happy?! You're overjoyed to see us defeated?! Speak up!"

The surrounding villagers gasped in surprise, and even his comrades looked in his direction in astonishment.

Levi's index finger was on the trigger, his eyes were bloodshot, but despite this, he still couldn't see a trace of fear in the old man's eyes.

This was practically a silent mockery of him.

"Levi! Stop!" His platoon leader rushed over and shoved the muzzle of his gun. "Put your gun away! What the hell are you doing?!"

“He’s laughing at us! These damned Arabs are making fun of us!” Levi shouted excitedly, his eyes red.

The platoon leader gave the innocent old man a cold glance, then looked at the silent but complex-eyed villagers around him, and said to Levi, "What's the point of playing the hero with a bunch of civilians? Let them laugh if they want! Our enemy is on the front lines, not here! Put away your impotent rage and don't cause me any trouble!"

Levi was panting heavily, and finally, under the platoon leader's stern gaze, he slowly lowered the muzzle of his gun.

The platoon leader pushed him away forcefully, and the painful groans of his comrades on the ground brought Levi back to reality.

Levi spat and waved his hand at the old man with utter disgust, as if shooing away a fly: "Get out of here, get out of here now! Don't let me see you again!"

The old man said nothing, but silently straightened his torn collar, took two steps back, and turned to blend into the crowd.

All eyes were on him. There were no cheers, no words, as if people were drawing the sweetness of victory from his straight back.

“Behold, behold, you steadfast people! We will be rewarded without fail.” (Quran 39:10)

A joyful smile appeared on the old man's lips.

(End of this chapter)