Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 179 The Siege of Damascus
Prince Muhammad entered his bedchamber, and his attendants waved their hands, dismissing all the medical staff.

The only sounds in the room were the ticking of the medical equipment and the patient's painful, weak breathing.

Prince Muhammad approached and saw his brother lying on the sickbed, his cheeks withered and sunken, his lips pale and cracked, almost glued together. His eyelids were half-open, his eyes unfocused and lifeless, and his sparse hair was soaked with cold sweat and stuck to his forehead. Each breath seemed extremely difficult, as if he were using up all his strength.

Muhammad sat quietly in a chair by the bed, the two brothers' eyes meeting silently in the air.

"Are you... just going to keep staring at me like this?" King Shams' voice was muffled, almost squeezed out of his throat.

Prince Muhammad's lips twitched, managing a forced smile.

King Shams gave a very slight smile, then shakily extended his hand, which still had the syringe inserted.

Muhammad hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward slightly to meet his brother's cold hand.

"Is everything...ready?" The king's voice was barely audible.

Prince Muhammad nodded.

"I'm a little tired... Can I... take a rest?"

“Not yet, brother,” Prince Mohammed’s voice was as soft as a whisper, encouraging him. “It’s not time yet.”

King Shams closed his eyes and after a long while, he spoke again: "Then I will... wait a little longer."

"Go out... I'm tired."

Prince Muhammad nodded, gently placed his brother's hand back on the bedside, and got up to walk outside.

Just as he was about to open the door, a weak voice came from behind him again:

"Moody, your heart is always too soft. When you need to be ruthless, remember to be ruthless."

Prince Muhammad paused almost imperceptibly for a moment before leaving the ward.

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.

In a room on the other side of the palace, Prince Mohammed's secretary, Aziz, poured Ziad a glass of water, preparing to bring up a difficult topic.

“We want you to identify Prince Mursed as the one who ordered you to assassinate His Majesty the King. He is the mastermind behind all the turmoil.”

Aziz spoke, calmly observing the king's adopted son's reaction.

To identify the mastermind, Ziad must first admit that he was also one of the assassins that day and that he was an accomplice to Gypsy, who has already been executed.

This was undoubtedly a cruel request; even the king's son would be sent to the execution platform if he confessed to the assassination.

Surprisingly, Ziad remained calm after hearing this and asked, "Are you sure the murderer is this person?"

"Although we don't have conclusive evidence, all the logic makes sense."

Aziz adjusted his glasses: "After King Shams was assassinated, Prince Mursed attempted to appoint the Crown Prince to the throne while His Majesty's condition was still unstable, but was stopped by His Majesty's brothers. Afterwards, he contacted other princely factions and the church, bypassing the Sudri faction, and established the Provisional Supreme Council, hoping to use it to undermine the cabinet."

This series of actions was swift and efficient, as if it had been planned in advance.

Ziad continued, "It's as if you've been planning to assassinate my father for a long time."

Aziz shut his mouth; he had simply said everything he needed to say.

The two were silent for a while, and then he gently placed a key on the table.

"This key can open the door to a villa on Waikiki Beach in Hawaii, where there is only sunshine, sand, and sea turtles. If you choose it, you can now escape all of that and live a peaceful life."

Of course, you can also choose revenge, and we guarantee that the real culprit will receive the punishment they deserve.

After presenting Ziad with two options, Aziz bowed slightly to the king's adopted son and then turned and left the room.

"Many things are so difficult that you can spend your whole life trying to find the answer."

Ziad looked at the keys and prepared documents on the table and smiled.

He knew, of course, that the other party was using him.

But it seems like I've been used by others my whole life.

"But God is just; He guides those who follow the right path, and He leads them astray, and they lose themselves." (Quran 7:178)

The flames of revenge burned in Ziad's eyes.

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.

Within the Kingdom of Hashim, on the highway leading to Mafrak, a supply convoy escorted by Sultan was suddenly attacked by Zion paratroopers.

Previously, Zion's 890th Airborne Brigade landed in Tukuf, Shuangzhi. Although it was scattered by the mechanized infantry brigade led by Prince Talal, its superior equipment and looting along the way caused considerable trouble for the Arab coalition forces.

At that moment, Sultan's infantry battalion ran into this force.

In the very first encounter, several transport trucks were hit by rockets and burst into flames. The guards were caught off guard and pinned down by the enemy's precise firepower.

"Protect the convoy! Protect the convoy quickly!" Sultan was extremely anxious as he watched the scene unfold.

"Lieutenant Colonel, let's retreat first," Major Fatah advised, worried that something might happen to the nobleman before him. "Air force support will take some time. The enemy's target is only supplies. Be careful not to get hurt by stray bullets."

"You're talking nonsense!" Sultan thought of his younger brother, who was commanding operations at the front and waiting for these supplies. He felt his heart pounding: "Have the first and last vehicles flank and encircle us! My command vehicle will lead the charge!"

After saying that, he climbed out from the roof of the command vehicle and operated the heavy machine gun with a shield, hiding most of his body behind the shield.

Seeing that the lieutenant colonel was determined, Major Fatah swallowed his words of persuasion and then issued orders to the other units via radio.

He drove Sultan at the forefront, with the other vehicles following closely behind.

"Allahu Akbar!!" Sultan shouted from the roof of the vehicle, feeling fearless at that moment.

"Lieutenant Colonel, I see the enemy ahead!" Fatah's voice came from inside the vehicle.

Sultan also saw the machine gun position firing at the convoy, and without thinking, he pulled the trigger.

“Da da da da—!”

The immense recoil from firing caused the gun to jump sharply upwards, nearly causing Sultan to drop it. He broke out in a cold sweat and hurriedly adjusted his aim. In the nick of time, the following crew fired first, their precise short bursts instantly killing the machine gunner.

As the convoy charged through the burning battlefield, Sultan felt a surge of pride.

However, Zion's counterattack came quickly. A Zion soldier holding an anti-tank rocket launcher hid at very close range and suddenly jumped out and opened fire as they approached!
"RPG!"

The rocket hit the rear of Sultan's command vehicle, and the huge explosion caused the entire vehicle to overturn. Sultan was thrown out of the vehicle and landed heavily on the sand.

With the command vehicle destroyed, the convoy fell into chaos again, unable to distinguish the specific targets to shoot.

At this critical moment, billowing dust rose on the distant horizon.

Large numbers of local militiamen from Hashim, driving modified off-road vehicles, pickup trucks, and even riding motorcycles, came from all directions, shouting slogans.

Major Fatah was still alive. He heard someone shouting on the channel, "Where is Commander Amir? We're here to help!"

In Arabic, prefixing a name with "little" is a common honorific, meaning someone's son. "Little Muhammad" easily evokes the image of the renowned "Amir ibn Muhammad," who is now the commander of the Arab Allied Forces.

Under the onslaught of the local militia, this small elite force of Zion began to crumble.

Sultan, who was dazed and confused after the fall, was helped up and was surprised to find that he had only suffered minor scrapes.

"Are you His Excellency Amir bin Mohammed?"

Sultan paused for a moment, then replied, "You may have mistaken me for someone else. I am Sultan ibn Muhammad, and Amir ibn Muhammad is my brother..."

"Oh! So he's the commander's older brother! No wonder he's just as brave and extraordinary!"

Upon learning that the person they had rescued was Sultan, the commander's brother, the militia leader was initially taken aback, but his enthusiasm remained undiminished: "It's all the same! Commander Amir dealt a heavy blow to the Zion scum for us, and now that our brother is in trouble, we certainly won't stand idly by!"

"Your Highness, please allow us to escort you on the journey ahead! We will ensure these supplies are safely delivered to the front lines!"

Sultan stared wide-eyed at the vast procession, never expecting his brother to wield such influence in a neighboring country.

After some discussion, the convoy, now larger than ever, continued its march toward the front lines.

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.

At Allied Command headquarters, Lu Lin is on the phone with Commander Hafez of Surya.

"After the Yom Kippur War ended, Zion deployed an armored division and a mechanized infantry division as the defensive core on the Plain of Kudaf."

Commander Hafez was explaining the Zion defense system around Damascus to Lu Lin: "Their commander is Lieutenant General Yukustov, an Ant veteran who participated in World War II. He and Lieutenant General Ladan, whom we defeated in Sergei, are known as the 'two iron walls' of the Zion army."

This claim stems from the fact that during the Yom Kippur War, Yukustov and Ladan commanded two armored brigades and successfully halted the advance of five armored divisions from Surya.

This is almost impossible to replicate, even in any era or on any battlefield.

“Besides the old capital, Yukustov has also deployed a number of support troops in Duma, Daraya and the Yarmouk refugee camp. If you include the Central Army stationed in the Golan Heights, that’s three divisions.”

“However,” Commander Hafez said more optimistically, “now that you have taken the Golan Heights, the most difficult part, it doesn’t seem so difficult to take Damascus now.”

Lu Lin asked a crucial question: "How many civilians are still in Damascus now?"

“There should still be around 900,000 people,” Commander Hafez’s tone turned serious again, then he sighed: “The Zion attack was too fast. Damascus didn’t have time to organize a large-scale evacuation. Only a small number of civilians escaped.”

Lu Lin frowned, and his expression became quite serious.

This is no longer just an ordinary important city.

Keep in mind that at this point in time, the total population of Surria was only a little over seven million.

Damascus alone accounts for nearly one-eighth of the country's population.

No wonder Zion has committed so many troops here.

"In that case, I don't recommend a direct attack."

Lu Lin thought for a moment and changed his approach: "If we use heavy artillery and air power to attack the enemy without supplies, we can inflict heavy casualties on the defenders, but the enemy's counterattack will inevitably be extremely fierce and violent."

This war will inevitably result in tens of thousands of civilian casualties, a catastrophe for the people of Damascus.

Commander Hafez knew that the Allied forces, especially the Shuangzhi army, had suffered heavy losses after a series of fierce battles, and that to conquer a giant fortress city like Damascus, they would probably have to use up all their remaining resources.

At the same time, for Surya, turning the capital into a graveyard for its own people would be an unbearable political and moral disaster.

“I completely agree,” Commander Hafez said without hesitation. “What we need to do is save a city, not destroy it.”

"My plan is to completely encircle Damascus and cut off all its supply lines and escape routes."

Lu Lin's gaze fell on the military map, and he analyzed, "Our main force should deploy outwards to occupy all highways, railway hubs, and strategic high ground leading to the city, such as Betkin and Taylor. In the north, your department should completely block the passage to Holmes."

At the same time, we must establish an air blockade, setting up multi-tiered, wide-coverage air defense positions, coordinating with the air force to intercept any transport planes or fighter jets attempting to fly over Damascus, truly turning Damascus into an isolated island.

Commander Hafiz asked a question that worried him: "What if those Zion bastards, in desperation, choose to attack the people in the city? Once they run out of food, they will inevitably plunder the people's reserves, or worse, use the people as human shields to demand that we withdraw our troops."

"Don't worry," Lu Lin replied calmly. "Prime Minister Hilbert of Zion may not care about the lives of Arab civilians, but he values ​​his army immensely, especially the veterans who have been through many battles. These people are the lifeblood of Zion. In comparison, he would prefer to use these civilians as bargaining chips to secure the safety of his troops."

Of course, if it were really a matter of exchanging, Lu Lin would definitely not give it to him.

At most, there will be an exchange of prisoners after the war.

He continued, "I will try to contact the United Nations and the Red Cross to oversee the entire process and announce the opening of several safe passages to allow and encourage civilians to evacuate the city to the humanitarian refugee camps we have set up outside the city."

The garrison will most likely agree, because these civilians will only continue to consume their rations; they will only allow the civilians to leave, but will not allow them to take any property or food.

Upon hearing this logically sound plan, Commander Hafez's confusion immediately dissipated, and his mood brightened.

He was a leader who ruled with an iron fist. In his view, it was inevitable for the people to suffer temporary hardship. As long as there were no large-scale deaths or injuries that shook the foundation of his rule, it was an acceptable outcome for him. Lu Lin's plan was even higher than the bottom line he had anticipated.

Lu Lin concluded by emphasizing, "But this will be a long struggle. The siege could last two to four months, or even longer. We must remain extremely patient and be prepared for a fierce counterattack by Zion forces to break the siege."

Commander Hafez's voice was cold and resolute: "Rest assured, if they dare to come, we will bleed them dry on their way to Damascus."

(End of this chapter)