Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 192 Brings Liberation to Damascus (Part 4)

"It's done. The ammunition depot was less secure than we thought," guerrilla fighter Kamal said to Hassan beside him, wiping the sweat from his face.

They had just successfully raided and destroyed a Zionist supply depot, capturing a considerable amount of weapons, but compared to the deafening artillery fire elsewhere in the city, this commotion was indeed insignificant.

"Who cares which unit they are, it's good that they can break in!" Hassan laughed, his bronze muscles exposed, and a red headband tied on his head.

“They came from the west, and their tanks are flying blue flags. They’re probably Shuangzhi’s troops, or even General Amir’s elite forces,” another guerrilla fighter, Tariq, analyzed.

"Amir, the angel known as 'Gibrill'?" Kamal's eyes lit up with hope.

This title was personally acknowledged by Joseph, the leader of Surya, and the story of Amir was passed down orally among the guerrillas, gradually evolving into a legend.

It is said that two years ago, this prince on the fringes of the royal family was a good-for-nothing who lost his wife in a noble duel. But since defeating Zion's forces in Nukhir, he has transformed himself from a major into the commander-in-chief of the Arab allied forces.

In the eyes of Arabs, this is generally not called talent, but divine revelation.

Although the guerrillas had long awaited an inside attack from the Surya government forces, deep down they preferred to trust Amir's troops, as if he possessed a magical power of certain victory.

“I’ve finally waited for this day!”

Basel pumped his fist excitedly: "We can finally teach those Zion bastards a lesson!"

Other guerrillas echoed, "That's right, it's time for them to pay for their crimes in blood!"

Hassan gestured for everyone to calm down: "Brothers, as much as we're excited, we can't cause trouble. We need to find ways to help the Arab army, not create more problems for them."

“That’s right,” Kamal agreed. “To avoid collateral damage, I think we need a clear sign.”

Everyone offered suggestions, and after a moment of contemplation, Hassan said, "I think this is a good idea: everyone should use blue strips of cloth to make armbands and wear them on their left arms. This will also match the color of the flag of General Amir's troops."

Basel interjected, "We're the guerrillas of Surria, what if we get misunderstood later?"

Hassan said, "Blue doesn't represent double will. It's a lucky color that will bring us good fortune in victory."

Although Hafez is the leader of Surya, how can he compare to the angels chosen by God?
Hassan then continued to address the crowd: “We control the locations of many key Zion Army nodes in the city, but we cannot take these nodes ourselves; we must rely on the firepower of the regular army.”

Thus, the course was quickly set: one part of the guerrillas guided the city's residents to safety, while another part joined up with Shuangzhi's troops.

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.

"Has Amir already made a move against Damascus?"

At the Tel Aviv headquarters, Hilbert learned of the news from Damascus, and Commander-in-Chief Yesavishin suggested, "Perhaps we can send a force out from Tabashi in the Galilee Plain to attack Quneitra, forcing that Amir to be distracted by dealing with us."

"It's too late, what's the use now?"

Hilbert, however, seemed somewhat disheartened: "After the fall of the Golan Heights, we have lost the strategic initiative in the Levant. Sending troops now would only be adding fuel to the fire."

General Jesavishin reassured them, "But watching Damascus fall would affect our ongoing mobilization. The people need to see hope for victory, and at least we should have tried."

"Okay, you're right."

Hilbert rubbed his temples, thought for a moment, and said, "Then let the 38th Division give it a try. They have new tanks and should be able to perform well."

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.

Al-Khali led his troops onward and has now penetrated deep into the western part of the city.

"These damn Zion scum..."

Corporal Mahir looked at the corpses hanging from twisted lampposts with disgust. "Look at what they've done! May God curse them and let their souls suffer eternal torment in Hellfire!" The sights along the way became increasingly horrifying, including not only corpses hanging in public, but also mounds of heads nailed to crumbling walls and piled up after decapitation.

Zion's army used every cruel method to torture the city's inhabitants and enslave them through fear.

Just then, an indescribable stench, a mixture of burnt fat and protein, wafted over. Maher's face changed, and he began to feel nauseous: "Damn, what's that smell? I'm about to throw up."

The smell was coming from the school next door. A group of soldiers came to the parade ground, and the scene in front of them made even seasoned veterans take their breath away.

Countless corpses, burned like pyres, were piled up like mountains.

"O God...they have committed a massacre here!"

Maher, fighting back nausea and anger, asked, "How many people did they kill?"

"It's no less than Beirut."

Al-Khali looked at this shocking scene and felt that his basic human decency was being trampled on.

Some surviving Arab citizens wandered near the mountain of corpses, trying to find their loved ones among the unrecognizable remains, but this was undoubtedly a futile hope.

"Have the reporters record all of this."

Al-Khali's eyes blazed with fury: "These are irrefutable proof of the genocide perpetrated by the Zionians against the Arabs! Let the United Nations, the United Kingdom, and France see for themselves! Let them see what kind of beasts they have been supporting all along!"

Just then, a man wearing a gray long-sleeved shirt with a conspicuous blue armband on his left arm waved at them and shouted, "Sir! Sir!"

"stop!"

Maher looked wary and, along with several soldiers around him, raised their guns at the man.

The man quickly explained, "We are local guerrillas! I am Kamal! I'm one of our own!"

After saying that, he pointed to the blue armband on his arm.

Kamal then quickly briefed Al-Khal on the guerrillas' situation, saying, "We have a lot of intelligence, and we've also maintained contact with the Surya government forces outside the city."

Verifying the other party's identity was not difficult, and Al-Khali reported the situation to the rear.

He then obtained the code words that Surria had agreed upon with the guerrillas.

After confirming the other person's identity, Al-Harry extended his hand: "Rafik!"

Kamal gripped his hand tightly. At that moment, it felt as if he had finally seen the end of a long and lonely journey.

Al-Khali had a sudden inspiration. With the assistance of guerrillas familiar with the terrain, the casualties and blind spots of the troops in complex urban warfare could be greatly reduced.

“Kamal,” Al-Khali asked, “what is our closest and most important objective right now?”

"Broadcast Tower!"

Kamal answered without hesitation, “The Zionians control it and issue commands to the entire city. If we take it, we can declare the end of the city to all the defenders and citizens, and that will be devastating to morale!”

"Alright!" Al-Haril and Mahir exchanged a glance. "Target: Broadcast Tower, let's go!"

So this joint force, temporarily formed by the Shuangzhi regular army and guerrillas, quickly advanced toward the broadcast tower in the city center.

(End of this chapter)