Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 223 "Better to lose a nation than to have one's race exterminated"

A Mi-8 helicopter slowly landed in the snowstorm above the Allied Command headquarters in Quneitra.

The snowflakes swirled up by the rotor blades formed white vortices in the air, and a dozen officers dressed in Ant-style winter combat uniforms stepped down one by one.

The young officer at the head of the group was tall and handsome, with the colonel's rank star on his shoulder insignia gleaming in the snow.

He strode toward Lu Lin, who was waiting on the tarmac, and their eyes met in the air.

Lu Lin extended his hand to the other person and said without any politeness, "You must be Colonel Lev, the one who talked back to his superior, right?"

“My name is Lev Alekseevich Rokosov.” The young man grasped Lu Lin’s outstretched hand with a firm and powerful grip, a standard Ant-style handshake. “Then you must be His Excellency Amir, who rose from a border major to a Field Marshal of the Allied Forces.”

The translator relayed their conversation in between.

This compliment made Lu Lin a little embarrassed. Isn't it said that Russians like to have a head-on confrontation when they chat?
He was still thinking of giving the other party a hard time.

At that moment, he noticed a beautiful woman with long platinum blonde hair standing behind Colonel Lev. Even in her winter uniform, her stunning figure was undeniable.

This was the first time Lu Lin had ever met a Russian girl.

He couldn't help but take a second look.

“In Ant, women are not necessarily inferior to men in battle. This is my operations staff officer,” Lev introduced. “Your Excellency Marshal will not mind, will you?”

“No,” Lu Lin nodded, “Let’s go inside and talk.”

The group returned to the command post. As the curtain fell, the wind and snow were shut out again, and the fireplace inside warmed the room.

Colonel Lev did not bring up their previous unpleasantness. Instead, he walked straight to the military map, placed the pointer in his hand on the west bank of the Hashim River, and said, "I plan to deploy the 9th Mechanized Corps and the 12th Armored Division of the Al-Ilag Front to open a breakthrough from here."

After hearing this, Lu Lin slowly shook his head: "No, I need you to rush to the aid of the Kafar-Sal region immediately. The 35th Mechanized Infantry Division is fighting a fierce battle there, and Shmuel's armored forces have already broken through the first line of defense."

"Why choose to divide our forces for defense?" Colonel Lev frowned. "According to the theory of assault, we should now concentrate our superior forces and strike directly at Tel Aviv. Only by disrupting their command center can we end the war at the lowest possible cost!"

“Believe me, because I know Zion better than you do.” Lu Lin said, “We’ve been fighting them for three years. If I were the commander of Zion, I would definitely choose to counterattack the Arab allies at this time, take this opportunity to take one or two of our allies hostage, and then start negotiations.”

Seeing Lev's puzzled expression, Lu Lin continued to explain, "This is a common tactic used by Zion. During the First and Fourth Middle East Wars, they used this method to gain valuable time to regroup and complete the transition from defense to counterattack."

In fact, during the first Middle East war, also known as the "Zion War," the Arab allies originally had the opportunity to completely defeat Zion. However, due to various internal and external reasons, there were two ceasefires, which allowed Zion to expand its military capabilities at an alarming rate. In just one month, it transformed from a group of demoralized militias into an armed force with a national defense command system, training, and even an air force, thus achieving a complete reversal of fortune.

The Yom Kippur War was even more disastrous. Masr almost marched into Tel Aviv in one fell swoop, but had to wait for the UN ruling, which gave Zion a chance to breathe and ultimately led to the complete defeat of the Eastern Front.

"So you're planning to use the 'surround three sides, leave one open' tactic?" Lev seemed to understand.

“That’s right.” Lu Lin nodded.

Colonel Lev hesitated, about to say something, when the beautiful staff officer whispered something in his ear, and the young colonel's expression turned somewhat helpless.

"Yes, Marshal. The Al-Ilag Front will immediately rush to the aid of Kafar-Sal."

Lu Lin said, "Don't worry, Colonel, you'll have plenty of opportunities to prove yourself in the future."

As Lev left with the battle orders, Lu Lin gazed at the swirling snow outside the window.

“They will understand.” Yehena appeared beside him unnoticed. “After all, this is our war.”

Lu Lin nodded slightly, his gaze still fixed on the departing helicopter: "I hope so."

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.

West bank of the Hashim River, forward command post of the Third Army Group of Zion.

Commander Shmuel put down the field phone, walked to the observation post, and raised his binoculars.

He had just received orders from the general command to break through the Hexi defense line according to the established plan and create an opening for a full-scale counterattack.

"Order the engineering corps to immediately begin constructing a pontoon bridge."

Shmuel said to his chief of staff behind him, his voice devoid of any emotion, "Get the 188th Armored Brigade ready to cross the river."

So a large number of engineers began their work, driving the bridge-building vehicles onto the Hashim River and directing their assembly.

Not far from the riverbank, armored units, already fully prepared, were poised to attack. "So, we expect to launch the attack in two hours?" the chief of staff asked, adjusting his watch.

"No rush," Shmuel glanced at his watch. "Let's wait for news from the front."

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 Kingdom of Hashim, the private reception room of the royal palace.

Mordecai Holon, the intelligence chief of Zion, gazed at the somewhat dilapidated hall before him, which reminded him of his visit here two years ago.

He was there on behalf of Prime Minister Hilbert to sign a border agreement with King Setis, and in less than two years, the country had already changed monarchs twice.

The first was Setis's eldest son, Tarric, an ambitious monarch who seemed intent on leading the Hashim down a path of destruction—to become an enemy of Zion—but ultimately died in a ridiculous accident; and now sits on the throne his son, Hussein, who is only fourteen years old.

The door to the reception room slowly opened, and the young king walked in.

Holon immediately stood up and bowed slightly in standard diplomatic courtesy.

"His Majesty."

Hussein's face still bore a trace of childishness, and perhaps because he had never truly held power, his demeanor lacked the majesty befitting a king. He gently waved for Horon to take his seat, while he himself sat down in the main seat.

"Get out, all of you," the young king ordered.

Seeing that the servants didn't move, he raised his voice: "What? Do I not even have this much power now?"

The servants gave a signal and respectfully withdrew.

Holon seemed to ignore this.

Hussein took a moment to catch his breath before continuing, "To be frank, Chief, what brings you here at a time like this?"

Holon slowly spoke, "Your Majesty, I am here to help you."

A hint of pity flickered in his eyes: "I feel sorry for you. Forgive my bluntness, but your situation seems even more difficult than your father's was back then."

Faced with the other party rubbing salt into his wounds, the boy's fingers tightened slightly, but he did not refute it.

The current situation in Hashim is basically out in the open, but everyone is aware of it but keeps it to themselves.

Holon carefully observed the boy's expression and slowly said, "Zion can help the Hashemite royal family regain power. We promise that as long as you remain neutral in this conflict, we will not only refrain from attacking Hashemite, but will also fully support you in consolidating your throne."

Hussein's eyes were dark.

Holon continued, “We can help you get rid of those disobedient ministers and make you a true Hashim King, instead of being neither a commoner nor a king as you are now.”

Hussein's lips trembled slightly: "Are you asking me to betray the entire Arab world?"

“No, I’m saving Hashim. Think of your grandfather; he would have made the same choice.”

Holon's voice softened further, "His Majesty Setis chose to maintain peaceful relations with neighboring countries precisely to preserve the Hashim dynasty. If he were to witness the current state of the kingdom's decline..."

He paused deliberately.

“If we win, a Hashemite king supported by us and who truly holds power will be able to ensure the independence and security of this country. We can sign a peace treaty and establish normal diplomatic relations. Hashemite will no longer need to be subservient to anyone.”

Holon took a document from his pocket and gently pushed it in front of Hussein: "This is a preliminary cooperation agreement. As long as you agree to remain neutral on the border issue, we will immediately begin to assist you in consolidating your power."

The young king's hand trembled as he slowly reached out.

Holon's smile gradually widened.

He recalled King Setis's choice in a similar situation; history always seems to repeat itself.
But the next second, his smile froze.

Hussein picked up the document and slowly, firmly tore it in half, then into four pieces.

I know I'm a puppet.
But there's something I need to say, and I don't know if you'll understand.

Hussein said, word by word: "Better to lose a nation than to be exterminated."

(End of this chapter)