Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 176 Don't catch a cold
When Lu Lin learned about the factional struggle between the conservatives and the Sudli faction in the rear, his first reaction was to be furious—were these people's brains filled with shit?

He could hardly suppress the urge to lead his troops back and "purge the court of corrupt officials".

"If you go back now, you'll either be thrown into a full-scale war with the conservatives, turning the whole country upside down, or you'll walk right into their trap and be placed under house arrest. Which outcome can you accept?"

Ibrahim calmly advised from the side, "Besides, now that you've returned from the front lines, who can keep the Arab coalition and the covetous Zionians in check? Me? Or Bandar?"

For the entire Shuangzhi army, and even the entire Allied forces, Lu Lin is an irreplaceable core member.

Once he leaves, this newly formed coalition will likely fall apart in an instant.

Lu Lin pursed his lips, offering no reply. If he had known this news before the attack on Quneitra, the course of the battle might have truly been affected, which was precisely why Ibrahim had delayed in informing him.

"Your decision to remain on the front lines and observe the situation with the momentum of a victorious army is the most effective way to deter the conservatives."

Ibrahim continued his analysis: "The situation is still unclear. We must trust His Highness the Prince. Taking rash action will only put us in a passive position."

His gaze was calm, and his tone was firm: "Only when you take Damascus will it be time for us to settle all accounts."

In this respect, Ibrahim's thinking was clearly more sober and rational.

Lu Lin: "Yibo, I just find it ironic. The soldiers on the front lines are fighting bravely, their blood flowing like rivers, while some people in the rear think this is an opportunity to seize power. Isn't that absurd? And what about this newly established 'Provisional Supreme Council'? How are we supposed to treat them?"

Ibrahim answered without hesitation: “Ask them for supplies, the more the better, just ask for the most. To keep you in check, the conservatives will definitely give in to your demands in the short term—they might even offer you a promotion as a way to win you over.”

At this moment, the entire Arab world was in high spirits because of Quneitra's great victory.

For the first time in twenty years, they truly glimpsed the dawn of victory over Zion.

The recapture of the Golan Heights was not just a victory in a battle, but also a rekindling of a nation's faith.

However, in Lu Lin's eyes, the continuous fierce battles had already cost the troops dearly. Among the five divisions he brought from Shuang Zhi, the elite old unit that had followed him since the Yom Kippur War had suffered particularly heavy losses: the First Armored Division had lost more than half its personnel, the Seventh Mechanized Infantry Division had been almost completely wiped out and rebuilt, and the other armored units had only 60 to 70% of their original strength, urgently needing rest and replenishment.

Right now, he must prioritize restoring his troops to full strength before he can seize the Golan Heights and Damascus in one fell swoop, thus securing victory for the Arabs in this war.

Corporal Walid of the assault reconnaissance platoon of the 7th Mechanized Infantry Division borrowed a bucket of white paint and, imitating the tank crew, diligently painted kill rings on the front armor plate of his M113 armored vehicle.

This M113 was modified with a TOW anti-tank missile launcher mounted on its top.

In the recent Quneitra assault, they destroyed an enemy machine gun position, two tanks, and even two military trucks.

"Hey, Walid, what kind of nonsense are you drawing?"

Soldiers from other platoons nearby, seeing Walid's artwork, laughed and reminded him, "Besides, kill rings are usually painted on the gun barrel or gun shield, not on the frontal armor like this."

Walid, however, didn't seem to care at all and chuckled, "You can all just be envious. How can we let others see our achievements if we don't draw them bigger?"

There is a set of unspoken rules and traditions for drawing kill rings, which are not globally unified but widely accepted. Generally, tanks and armored vehicles are represented by a short "I" bar, trucks or soft targets are represented by an "o" circle, and construction sites or fortifications are distinguished by a square "□".

Are you counting how many levels you can advance?

At this moment, Corporal Walid's platoon leader, Second Lieutenant Zafield, also came over. The latter couldn't help but joke, "There's still a long battle ahead. You've drawn such a big picture; be careful you don't run out of space to draw later." "Who knows? Maybe I can get promoted to sergeant?" Walid shook his head, appearing quite nonchalant. "But I haven't served long enough, and I don't have any connections. I'll probably be lucky to reach sergeant level. I'll be content to fight those Zion bastards alongside the lieutenant general!"

At that moment, a series of shouts of "Attention!" and "Commander!" rang out behind them. Lieutenant Zafield turned around, immediately stood at attention, and saluted: "Commander!"

Commander-in-Chief Lu Lin, accompanied by Chief of Staff Ibrahim, is inspecting the troops.

Upon seeing the kill ring drawn on the M113, Lu Lin exclaimed in surprise, "Four armored units and one defensive position, well done, lads! If this were two years ago, I would have personally applied for the 'Medal of Courage' for you, but now it can only be the Royal Medal of Honor!"

The soldiers in the other squads looked on with envy when they heard the commander praise them personally. Lieutenant Zafield and Corporal Walid also puffed out their chests with pride.

Lu Lin's gaze lingered on Lieutenant Zafield's face for a few seconds before he suddenly said, "I recognize you. Your name is Zafield Samir."

Corporal Walid, standing nearby, gaped in shock. The commander actually remembered the lieutenant's name?
Lu Lin continued, "You and your infantry platoon saved my life in Canam."

He still remembered the young faces who had rushed to the front lines with him, singing songs and mocking the enemy's incompetence. But the cruelty of war gives no time to prepare, and in the blink of an eye, many vibrant lives were reduced to the thin list of the dead in his hands.

Lieutenant Zafield's cheeks flushed red, and he was so excited that he didn't know what to say for a moment. Finally, he scratched his head and said, "I didn't expect you to remember me."

“Of course,” Lu Lin said with a serious expression, “It’s not just you. I remember every single one of you. I even wrote you all down in my little notebook so I wouldn’t forget you.”

He took a red leather notebook out of his jacket pocket, then opened it and read out a few names.

Memories of the past flooded back like a tide.

Lieutenant Zafield's eyes instantly reddened.

"Now, do me a favor,"

Lu Lin handed Zafield the red notebook and the pen he carried with him, explaining, "I originally wanted to write it for you, but after thinking about it, it would be more meaningful for you to write it yourself."

The surroundings fell silent instantly.

Amidst the shocked and intense gazes of his comrades, Zafield solemnly accepted the notebook and pen, and wrote his name in somewhat crooked but extremely earnest handwriting.

At the moment he finished writing, he felt an indescribable sense of relief and satisfaction, as if he had completed a long process of self-redemption.

Lu Lin took back the notebook and nodded in acknowledgment: "Keep the pen as a souvenir."

So Zafield carefully put the pen into the pocket inside his uniform.

More and more soldiers gathered around, their young eyes gleaming with excitement and loyalty.

Seeing this, Chief of Staff Ibrahim whispered in Lu Lin's ear, "Say something to them, they're all waiting to hear your voice."

Lu Lin nodded, his gaze sweeping over each young face, and said:

"It's too cold here, wear more clothes so you don't catch a cold."

(End of this chapter)