Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 174 What the hell is this called a surprise?
Tel Aviv, headquarters.

News of the withdrawal of Shuangzhi's armored forces also reached the ears of high-ranking officers in Zion.

"This Amir is a remarkable young man, able to hold on for so long under these circumstances."

Prime Minister Hilbert's tone carried the admiration of a victor for the loser: "If the country behind him had been as united as the army he commanded, the outcome of this war might have been very different."

Commander Moda agreed: "Yes, looking at the entire Arab world, it's probably rare to see a military genius like this in decades. It's just a pity that luck is on our side this time."

Mossad Director Yitzhak Khofi stood quietly to the side, as silent as ever.

But this time no one could ignore his presence, and no one knew what Mossad had done behind the scenes of this internal strife in Shuangzhi.

It is likely that only a few high-ranking officials, including Prime Minister Hilbert, knew the full picture of their plan.

Chief of the General Staff Lazars couldn't help but sigh: "Actually, Amir is quite lucky. Ever since Major General Gheer's 38th Armored Division was deployed from Carthage to Galilee, the possibility of the Arabs continuing to advance has been zero."

This battlefield is too small; it simply cannot accommodate such a large force from both sides. Continuing the fight will only turn it into a brutal war of attrition and a bloodbath. We, on the other hand, possess shorter supply lines, more timely air support, and an absolute advantage in terrain. If the stalemate continues, they will be the first to succumb.

At this point, another senior officer present reminded them: "Don't underestimate the Arabs. Their fighting spirit, inspired by their religious beliefs, can sometimes be terrifying."

Chief of Staff Lazars, however, seemed unconvinced. He shook his head and said, "Times have changed. This is no longer World War I or World War II. In the face of modern heavy weapons, air superiority, and system-of-systems warfare, mere numerical superiority and the spirit of sacrifice can only make the numbers on the battle reports look more heroic. They have no decisive effect whatsoever."

Prime Minister Hilbert seemed pleased with the current situation, but he then asked a more practical question: "However, I have heard that the front-line troops are still reporting heavy artillery fire from the Shuangzhi army?"

General Yeshavishin explained: "This is because Shuangzhi's troops are retreating, and the enemy is using long-range artillery to cover their penetrating armored forces, while leaving behind a small number of infantry to hold off our pursuing troops at strong defensive points. We expect their shelling to stop completely within a few days."

“Very good.” Hilbert finally asked the question that concerned him most: “So, are we capable of pushing the front lines back to where they were before the war? I mean, of completely retaking the west bank of the Hashim Valley.”

You can rest assured about that.

General Yeshavishin appeared confident: "In fact, we only need to wait another four to five months for the Hashim River's autumn and winter flood season to arrive. At that time, the river will completely separate the two banks. If the Arab troops do not withdraw, the isolated army left on the west bank will lose most of its logistical support and will become easy targets for our air power and artillery to wipe out."

Upon hearing this, Prime Minister Hilbert finally broke into a completely relaxed smile.

“Excellent.” He stood up and slammed his right fist on the table. “It won’t be long before we can completely free up our resources to deal with Carthage and all the Arafat Liberation Organizations within its borders!”

Only then will Zion truly become the "Promised Land" described in the Hebrew Bible—flowing with milk and honey.

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.

Late at night, Kunetra.

This strategic town, located between the Yarmouk Valley and the Golan Heights, was once the gateway from Galilee to Damascus.

Since Zion lost Quneitra to Surya during the Third Arab-Israeli War, it has deployed layers of fortifications here and stationed central troops here, demonstrating the importance it attaches to Quneitra.

However, after losing the Yamuk Valley, the front line, the Central Army was forced to switch to a passive defensive posture.

Outside the command post, Lieutenant General Sharil and his adjutant Moses were smoking. In this godforsaken place, they were accompanied only by the "through wind" (monsoon airflow), and occasionally the searchlight beams from the distant positions would pierce the night sky.

“I heard the Arabs have started withdrawing from Galilee,” Sharil exhaled a puff of smoke. “Looks like this farce is almost over. Once things are settled here, maybe I should go on vacation to Haifa. The beaches and girls there are much more comfortable than this damn Golan Heights.”

Moses chuckled and agreed, “Indeed, the girls of Eilat are more passionate, but the wines of Haifa are more memorable.”

"Come on, the girls in Eilat have more thoughts than the fur on a wool coat. But seriously, all I want right now is to find a place without the sound of gunfire and sleep until I naturally wake up."

"That will have to wait until the Shuangzhi people completely withdraw their troops. I estimate we will be the last batch—at least until they withdraw from the Yamuk Valley."

As the two were chatting, Lieutenant General Sharil's gaze was drawn to a dark shadow circling in the night sky.

It looked like a falcon.

He looked at the dark figure, and Sharil suddenly had the illusion that the dark figure was also staring at him.

“Damn it, I think I saw an eagle,” he muttered.

"Eagle? Besides our warplanes, what other birds fly around here at night?" Moses shrugged dismissively. "Probably a night owl, General. You're too tense."

The two chatted and smoked two or three more cigarettes until the chill of the Golan Heights night had completely soaked through their coats.

Sharil threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out: "Let's go back, this godforsaken place is freezing to death at night."

The adjutant nodded, and as the two were walking into the house, Sharil heard a chilling shriek from the sky.

He was so familiar with the voice that he felt a strong sense of disorientation.

That was the sound of a howitzer landing.

boom--! ! !
A violent explosion resounded through the night sky as the 203mm heavy howitzer shells struck the command post with pinpoint accuracy, like a hammer blow.

In an instant, flames soared into the sky, and the earthen and wooden command post was blown to pieces. Lieutenant General Shahril Motahail and his entire command center were wiped out in the first wave of artillery fire.

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.

With the thunderous roar of artillery fire, the entire Quneitra seemed to shake violently.

Brigadier General Yossi David, stationed at the front lines, attempted to contact command amidst the violent tremors, but received no response.

"Command! Respond immediately! Anyone! Answer!"

A soldier, covered in dust and with bloodstains on his face, staggered into the makeshift command post, his voice trembling with fear: "Brigade Commander! All command channels are down! We can't get in touch! Enemy tanks... so many tanks! They've already charged up from the Yarmouk Valley!"

Brigade Commander David's heart sank. He grabbed his binoculars and rushed to the observation post.

A torrent of steel was rushing in, and on the turret of the leading M60A1 tank, a blue flag fluttered prominently amidst the gunfire and smoke.

David immediately made a judgment and roared out the order: "Attention everyone! Use the anti-tank ditches and pre-prepared minefields! Organize crossfire! We must not let them break through the position!"

However, the ferocity of the Shuangzhi troops' offensive far exceeded his expectations.

Although the armies of Middle Eastern countries no longer advocate armored assaults, it remains the most impactful tactic when at extremely close range and with overwhelming numerical superiority.

The tanks at the forefront showed no sign of slowing down; they floored the accelerator, seemingly oblivious to fear!
Even if the lead tank has its tracks blown off by an anti-tank missile or a landmine, or even explodes into a fireball, the tanks behind it will not hesitate to bypass the wreckage and continue their charge!
Brigade Commander David was completely stunned.

This kind of fighting style, which completely disregards casualties and costs, made even a seasoned veteran like him feel a chill down his spine and find it unbelievable.

This was entirely designed to tear through their defenses as quickly as possible, and to carve a path through them with steel and flesh!

"Is this the unit of Shuangzhi?"

Even by the standards of Zion's most elite forces, this is the elite of the elite.

But worse was yet to come. As the vanguard armored forces drew out and tore through the defenses, more and more Shuangzhi troops emerged from all directions.

Mechanized infantry fighting vehicles followed closely behind, and vehicle-mounted anti-tank missiles and precision strike positions on the high ground began to systematically eliminate every fortified firing point of the Zion Army.

“Didn’t they retreat from Galilee? Where did these troops come from?!” Brigade Commander David was in a state of confusion.

Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck him, and he realized the truth.

The Dual-Zionians are not retreating at all! This is a huge strategic deception! They have quietly transferred their main force from Galilee and concentrated all their troops along the Yarmouk Valley line, intending to use overwhelming force to form an iron fist and smash Quneitra's defenses in one blow!

Even if Brigade Commander David now realizes this, it's already too late.

The communications soldier reported desperately: "Brigade Commander! Large numbers of enemy armored units have been spotted to the east and south! We seem to be completely surrounded!"

But needless to say, Brigade Commander David also saw everything through his binoculars.

The Shuangzhi troops, like a vast ocean, rushed towards their isolated island without a commander, seemingly intent on completely engulfing them.

Looking at the seemingly endless waves of enemy troops advancing one after another, Brigade Commander David's eyes were filled with utter despair.

The battle raged for eight hours, turning the Kunetra position into scorched earth and rivers of blood after repeated fighting.

The sounds of gunfire gradually subsided as the first pale rays of dawn appeared in the sky.

With the last of the Central Army troops fleeing in disarray toward Blackgate Mountain, Quneitra officially changed hands.

Al-Hali wanted to plant the blue flag on the ruins of Zion Command, but he couldn't find it after searching around—it was probably destroyed in the earlier artillery fire.

Brigadier General Yossi David survived, covered in gunpowder and blood. He was escorted by several soldiers to the tank with the blue flag.

The tank hatch opened, and a general emerged.

Brigadier General David was forced to his knees, but he still managed to lift his head. "I recognize you, Bandar. You're the one who took the Yarmukh Valley, and you're Amir's most capable lieutenant."

He had never seen the man's face, but he had long heard of the division commander's deeds, who liked to carry the flag and lead the charge in tanks.

He recognized him by the flag and his reckless style.

However, the young general leaped off the roof of the vehicle, his voice piercing the morning mist:
"You got the wrong person."

“I am Amir ibn Muhammad ibn Abdulaziz Al Saud, Commander-in-Chief of the Arab Allies, the Sword of Sumer.”

Facing the intense gazes of all the soldiers, Lu Lin addressed the astonished Brigade Commander David:

"He's also the man who will send you to hell."

(End of this chapter)