Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 194 Saints (Part 1)

With a loud explosion, the outer wall of the Damascus Broadcasting Station collapsed.

The outside was littered with the corpses of the defenders. The guerrillas and soldiers rushed in through the breach and used submachine guns to take out the last few Zion soldiers who were putting up a stubborn resistance.

Al-Khali stepped across the marble floor, which was covered with shell casings and bloodstains, his military boots making a sticky sound in the still-warm blood.

Partisans Kamal and Corporal Maher followed closely behind, climbing up the bombed-out spiral staircase, each step landing on shards of glass and concrete.

Inside the broadcast control room, an obese man dressed in a Zion officer uniform slumped in a swivel chair, blood still seeping from a bullet hole in his temple, a pistol lying beside him.

“This guy seems to be the head of the broadcasting station,” Maher said, checking the badge on the man’s chest.

At this time, the broadcasting room was still broadcasting in both Arabic and Hebrew:

[Attention all citizens of Damascus: Leaving the designated activity area without permission is strictly prohibited. Violators will be considered as engaging in hostile acts.]

[(Hebrew) Soldiers of Zion, take up your weapons and tear your enemies apart with bullets. Your glory is my glory, and may the light of the six-pointed star be with you.]

[(Arabic) To the Arab invaders: Your attacks will only make your mothers weep, and they will never be able to come to Damascus to pay their respects.]

Kamal pulled out explosives, ready to blow the center console to smithereens, but was stopped by Al-Khali.

"Don't worry, this thing might be very useful to us."

Maher, a former communications soldier, is quite knowledgeable about radio equipment: "A radio station is essentially a large loudspeaker that receives signals, so as long as the signal source is switched, theoretically not only Zionists can use it, but we can too."

Al-Khali and Kamal immediately looked at him, and Mahir helplessly spread his hands: "Don't look at me like that, I'm only half-baked, and this thing needs professional equipment and engineering support."

After a brief weighing of the pros and cons, Al-Hari said, "I'll contact people right away to see if we can get the signal source transferred to Kunetra's headquarters. If that doesn't work, we'll blow up this radio station."

Kamal and other guerrillas also agreed.

The radio station originally belonged to the people of Surria, but it was seized by the Zionians. They did not want to destroy their own property unless absolutely necessary.

About twenty minutes later, the engineering platoon leader arrived at the scene with several soldiers.

They opened the communications box with practiced ease and connected the field telephone exchange and frequency modulator.

A sergeant is using a multimeter to test the line voltage, while another soldier is adjusting the frequency band of a high-frequency carrier transmitter.

"Thanks for your hard work."

"It's just my job."

The engineer platoon leader said, "Major, we'll be attempting to establish an encrypted audio link with headquarters next. We need to calibrate the frequency first."

Just then, the corporal, who was adjusting the equipment, suddenly noticed a faint noise that caught his attention.

Then he carefully turned the tuning knob, and the noise gradually subsided, and a clear Hebrew voice reached everyone's ears.

Al-Haril and the other soldiers had no idea what it meant. Kamal leaned closer to the listening device and frowned: "They seem to be talking about 'cleansing tactics'?"

Upon hearing these words, Al-Hali and Mahir's expressions changed drastically.

“These bastards!!” Maher cursed.

Seeing Kamal's confusion, Al-Hali explained to him, "'Purge tactics' is a Zion tactic that allows the use of any unconventional weapons and can indiscriminately attack any non-friendly unit targets."

Previously, during the Battle of Canam, General bin Laden of Zion used this tactic (Volume 3, Chapter 58, "The Value of United Front"), which resulted in the destruction of more than 60% of the city's buildings. The sudden increase in the intensity of the war also caused both sides to suffer far greater losses than estimated.

Upon hearing this, Kamal's face turned deathly pale, and his lips trembled.

A feeling of despair and anger welled up inside me.

Why did they issue such an order?
Why do these Zionians have to kill them?

“This is an emergency,” Al-Khali said gravely to the engineer platoon leader. “I need to contact headquarters immediately!”

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.

"Purge tactics?"

At the Kunetra headquarters, Lu Lin quickly received the intelligence, but the term was somewhat unfamiliar to him.

Taimiye explained, "At that time, you and Ibrahim were both unconscious due to serious injuries and were sent to the rear to recuperate, but you will understand when you see the battle reports later."

The reason why Garnam was described as the "Battle of Tsaritsyn" after the war was largely due to Zion's purge tactics.

"The people of Damascus."

The UN envoy, Jan Elandersen, felt somewhat suffocated.

If the Zionites go into a final frenzy, how many people will die?
A few hundred thousand?
Or hundreds of thousands?
The price they paid for this victory was unacceptable.

“General.” Elandson’s expression was somewhat blank.

Lu Lin shook his head. At a time like this, having more troops wouldn't make a difference.

Zion's soldiers were scattered throughout the city, while the Allied troops were barely able to maintain their offensive, let alone save the civilians.
"Your Excellency, the people of Damascus can only save themselves."

Elanderson hesitated, but he knew that Lu Lin was right.

“The only thing we can do is to have the army speed up the process of eliminating Zion’s headquarters in order to reduce casualties,” Ibrahim said, his expression equally grave.

“We’ve already captured the broadcast tower,” Tammy said. “Why don’t you use it to issue orders? It’ll boost morale.” Lu Lin nodded.

He sat down in the chair and brought the microphone to his mouth.

Just then, he suddenly remembered what he had just said.

"Only the people of Damascus can save themselves."

A sudden surge of heat welled up from the depths of his heart, causing it to pound wildly.

O Allah, Allah.

Lu Lin silently thought to himself:

I've reclaimed so much land for you, so it's not too much to ask that I pretend to be your angel for once, is it?

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.

“The signal is connected,” Al-Harry said in the broadcasting room.

May the six-pointed star [become]

Kamal was about to say something when the monotonous, suffocating sound that had been repeating in Hebrew suddenly stopped.

The whole of Damascus fell silent.

Immediately afterwards, a young, clear voice rang out from the radio, spreading to every corner of Damascus:
Fellow countrymen in Damascus, I am Amir ibn Mohammed, and also the commander-in-chief of the Arab forces fighting in the city.

Today, God has granted us the dawn of liberation, and the flag of the Arab coalition is flying over this ancient city. But I still want to tell you that the fruits of victory are never given, but must be seized with our own hands.

Look around you, look out your windows—the Zion soldiers lying in the streets, the wrecked tanks—they all tell you that victory is within reach.

Lu Lin paused for a moment: "However, I must tell you, the war is not over yet."

The Zionians are mobilizing their minions, drawing strength from despair, determined to destroy the city even in the face of defeat!
However, I want to ask you, do you accept this tragic ending?

When the invaders' iron hooves trample your homes, when the blood of your loved ones stains this land, will you choose to surrender?

“No, absolutely not,” Kamal murmured.

“Absolutely not.” Omar, who was leading the Shuangzhi troops, looked up at the sky.

"no way."

"no way!"

The guerrillas in the city and the civilians hiding in houses and cellars silently said in their hearts that this was the resonance of millions of enslaved and imprisoned souls.

Lu Lin took a deep breath: [In the name of the angel 'Gibrill'—!]
I hereby declare: Every woman who protects her home is a holy warrior fulfilling the mandate of Bilal! Every child who throws stones is an avenger inheriting the glory of Omar! Every old man who raises his cane is a sword-wielding guardian on the Ark of Nuha!

The scissors in your hands are the sharp blades that pierce the enemy's throat; the iron pots in your kitchens are the heavy hammers that smash tank armor; the anger in your hearts is the weapon that makes the executioner tremble!

Let every alleyway be a graveyard for the enemy! Let every square be a trial ground for the Zion scum!

From this moment on,
There is no need to wait for a savior; you are God's sharpest sword!

No need to beg for mercy, you are the masters of your own destiny!
Even if the enemy has a thousand troops, even if we fight alone, the Arabs will fight to the last moment! Until the last invader is driven out of our sacred homeland!
For those warriors who fell before dawn, for those heroic souls who fought against steel with their flesh and blood, for the millions of compatriots behind us—

Today we will liberate Damascus!
For God, for freedom!
Allah, Akbar!!!

The entire city of Damascus fell silent.

Most of the Zion soldiers couldn't understand what the person on the radio was saying, but they felt a chilling power emanating from it.

A new recruit gripped his rifle tightly, his palms sweating.

He felt as if he wanted to knead the weapon into his trembling flesh, only in this way could he find some solace.

Suddenly, someone shouted "Allahu Akbar!" from somewhere, startling the new recruits.

The sound started as just a few scattered notes, but then spread like wildfire!
The sounds converged from all directions, transforming from whispers into thunderous roars, and finally coalescing into an overwhelming battle horn!
Then the wooden door next to the recruit was broken open, and a man wielding a machete rushed towards him!
The recruit reacted quickly and shot the man in the neck.

The man staggered and fell into the shadows behind him, but suddenly countless footsteps emerged from those shadows!

"For freedom, for Allah!!"

Just as the soldier was about to fire, a shadow loomed over his head.

Another man jumped down from the windowsill and pounced on him.

The recruit's spine broke on the spot, and he let out a painful scream.

Countless people left their homes, forming a torrent of revenge.

They carried sticks, pots and pans, and anything hard that could smash the enemy's skull.

"Allahu Akbar!!"

The waves of sound rose in waves, filled with suppressed anger and the joy of rebirth, as if they were about to tear a hole in the sky above Damascus.

This is the awakening of millions of ordinary people, the most shocking roar of the long-silent earth!
(End of this chapter)