Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 227 A Road of No Return
West bank of the Hashim River, Zion Outpost Command.

"Why has the shelling stopped?"

Shmuel instinctively reached for his binoculars, but found nothing, then remembered that he had smashed them.

At that moment, a messenger relayed a message, his voice trembling: "Your Excellency, Brigadier General Abraham has surrendered with his troops!"

"What? This bastard, this coward!"

The sudden news enraged Shmuel, who shouted, "He has tarnished the Zion banner and betrayed the trust of all the soldiers!"

But his rage quickly subsided; he took a few deep breaths and forced himself to calm down. As commander, he had to face the situation.

"Commander?" the chief of staff asked cautiously.

“Never mind.” Shmuel waved his hand, a hint of barely perceptible relief in his voice.

The chief of staff keenly noticed the subtle change in his superior's expression. Having worked together for many years, he knew that this general, known for his sternness, was not a cold-blooded person. Behind that sense of relief lay genuine gratitude for the soldiers' survival.

"At least, most people survived."

Shmuel said in a low voice, "And Abraham disobeyed orders and chose to surrender, so this is the best outcome."

"Let's prepare to write the battle report."

Shmuel regained his composure. "Tell them that our troops were ambushed on their way to Amman. After a valiant fight, the battle was lost because Brigadier General Abraham surrendered without authorization. Now that the war has just begun, we can still request reinforcements from home."

"clear."

The chief of staff nodded and took notes, while also feeling a pang of regret that this practice of passing the buck was all too common in the Zion army.

Just then, a burst of intense artillery fire suddenly erupted from the opposite bank.

"What's going on?" Shmuel frowned.

The chief of staff also looked puzzled.

Shmuel grabbed his spare binoculars and looked across the river, only to see a scene that sent chills down his spine.

His expression changed drastically: "They've gone mad! They've gone mad!"

The piercing screams echoed across the river, which was hundreds of meters wide, causing a commotion on the Third Army's positions on the west bank.

The chief of staff also took the binoculars, and the scene before him terrified him. He saw countless Zion soldiers scattering and fleeing, while the Arab forces mistook them for enemy troops resisting, with various weapons spitting fire.

Some desperate soldiers fled into the sea, only to be hit by stray bullets, turning the entire river surface blood red.

"Amir has gone mad! All Arabs have gone mad!"

Shmuel's face flushed red, his lips trembling: "Massacring prisoners of war is an act that will be condemned by the heavens! How dare he, how dare he?!"

The chief of staff closed his eyes in anguish, the flames shooting into the sky from the opposite bank reflecting on his face, and the cries of the soldiers reaching his ears.

They personally escorted the soldiers to the other side of the river.

And now, none of these soldiers will be able to come back.

He saw that some soldiers were wearing checkered hats and others had blue and white armbands on their shoulders.

The meaning is self-evident: the former is seeking revenge against Arafat from Beirut, while the latter represents Damascus.

He gazed at the firelight on the opposite bank of the river and murmured to himself, "Perhaps... this is the price to pay for my sins."

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.

"You are committing a blatant crime! You are violating the Geneva Convention!"

Colonel Lev was furious. "I will definitely expose your atrocities at the United Nations!" Major General Ali looked at him calmly. "For decades, the Zionians have committed countless similar crimes against us, but when has the United Nations ever punished them?"

"But they've already surrendered!"

Ali did not respond to his words.

Lev understood that he could no longer stop the massacre; the Shuangzhi soldiers were in a bloodthirsty frenzy, and the ground was piled high with corpses.

“I will personally ask Marshal Amir for an explanation,” Lev said coldly.

"Please."

Lev resisted the urge to look at the horrific conditions in the prisoner-of-war camp and, in front of Major General Ali, made contact with the Allied Supreme Command.

"Colonel Lev, what is it?" Lu Lin's voice came through the receiver.

Lev said solemnly, "Your Excellency Marshal, I must express my strongest condemnation of your troops' massacre of prisoners of war! This is an atrocity that is a serious violation of international law, and I will report this to the United Nations! Please stop this behavior immediately!"

"Colonel Lev, look around you."

Lu Lin spoke up, "When the Zionists crossed the Hashim River, they slaughtered every single defender who bravely resisted. Why must we grant them a way out when they choose to surrender? Is it merely because they outnumber us?"

"But you didn't need to do that at all!"

Lev argued, “War has its rules! These prisoners of war can become your achievements, or they can atone for their sins through labor—working on railways in the desert, or toiling in the mines. As long as they live, they can still create value.”

"I no longer need any more achievements. Now, all I need is victory."

Lu Lin's voice was very calm, "Besides, there are far more Zionians than you imagine."

The call was disconnected. Lev stood there, the only sounds in his ears being the distant gunshots and the stench of blood in the air.

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.

Lu Lin put down the microphone expressionlessly, and Yehena came over and gently massaged his temples.

Am I becoming a little cold-hearted?

Yehena did not answer, but simply waited quietly for him to continue.

"Even when I was forced to execute invaders in Nukoshir, I still felt disgusted by war."

Lu Lin muttered to himself, "When I arrived in Garnam, this feeling faded a lot. But now, as the Allied commander-in-chief, watching the number on the list of the dead climb higher and higher, I feel numb."

Yehena focused more intently on her movements, but remained silent.

When making the decision to kill the prisoners, Lu Lin mainly considered two aspects.

First, this was the first major victory for both sides since the start of the war. The harsh methods were able to inspire the fighting spirit of the troops, while also dealing a heavy blow to the morale of Zion.

Secondly, those Zionists overseas are the real threat.

This is what he learned through history: these overseas Zionites not only transported large amounts of supplies and funds to Zion, but also sent troops to Zion continuously under the banner of "defending the Promised Land".

As long as their desire is thwarted, these people will continue to provide a steady stream of support to Zion.

Lu Lin wanted to send them a signal through this massacre—since you dared to come, were you prepared to die on the battlefield?

"Now that you've made your choice, don't overthink it."

Yehena finally spoke, her voice soft yet firm, "We can only continue down this path."

Lu Lin looked out at the cold sunlight and said softly, "Yes, from the moment we embarked on this path, there was no turning back."

(End of this chapter)