Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 233 High-Altitude Hunt
Haifa is destined to have a sleepless night.

Lieutenant General Oltra paced back and forth in the command post. In fact, when he ordered the defensive line to be contracted, he was gambling a little.

In complete darkness, with no visible impact point, even with area coverage, artillery would struggle to achieve accuracy and effective kills.

Moreover, based on the engagements over the past few days, he has confirmed that the commander of the main force is Lieutenant General Bandar of Shuangzhi.

This general was a close confidant of Amir and was known for his daring armored group assaults. Intelligence on Bandar indicated that the enemy rarely displayed sophisticated artillery tactics.

This made Ortra lower his guard slightly.

He had considered having Amir personally command the operation, but now that Amir was the commander-in-chief of the Arab allies, he probably wouldn't personally go to the front lines to direct artillery to carry out precision strikes against them.
However, shortly after the order to adjust the defensive line was issued, an urgent voice came through the communicator from the rear command headquarters: "General Oltra! Headquarters orders: halt the retreat and maintain the existing defensive line!"

Oltra's heart sank.

Once the battle lines begin to contract, it's like drawing a bowstring; it's difficult to pull them back instantly.

The troops needed time to retake their pre-established positions, while the Arab army took the opportunity to press forward step by step.

The two sides' battle lines were like two pieces of glue stuck together; as one side retreated, the other side immediately pressed forward, giving them no chance to breathe.

"This is to prevent us from splitting our forces to provide support."

Oltra felt that he had seen through the other person's thoughts.

But a military order is a military order. Since the headquarters ordered them not to retreat, they had to find a way to push the front line back.

But just half an hour later, a bombshell message exploded in the command post: "It's terrible! Haifa Port and the heavy industrial area have been subjected to heavy artillery bombardment. The troops in the city say they're attacking from the front!"

Upon hearing this news, Oltra's mind went blank.

broken!

He suppressed his heart palpitations and grabbed the communicator. "What's the situation in the city right now?"

The communications soldier's reply was quick and clear: "Reporting, Commander! Enemy artillery fire has precisely targeted our airfield and city defense command post, causing severe damage to key facilities!"

The city defense command headquarters was bombed?

Ortra quickly followed up, "How many rounds did the opponent play?"

"One shot! One shot and it hit!!"

One round!?

Oltra felt a chill run down his spine to the top of his head.

His gaze seemed to pierce through the tent, cross the battle line, and directly reach the position of the army group commander on the opposite side. In a daze, he seemed to see a young and calm figure sitting there.

A person's name, the shadow of a tree.

The slight sense of relief that came from speculating about Bandar's command vanished, replaced by an indescribable sense of urgency and psychological pressure.

The person directing the Shuangzhi Army Group's operations on the other side is definitely not Bandar.

Someone else has taken over the account.

Oltra took a deep breath. The psychological shock made it difficult for him to calm down for a while, and he even overlooked the fact that his side still had the advantage in terms of manpower and fortifications.

He knew perfectly well that the person standing before him was the "Muslim angel"—

Amir bin Mohammed.

In the past two years, Mossad has uncovered the entire life story of this young man who is not yet twenty-five years old and pieced together his complete life trajectory.

It's hard to imagine that three years ago this guy was just an Arab prince who could only write love poems. He had never attended a military academy or set foot on a battlefield, yet he led a group of pampered soldiers and used a bunch of outdated equipment from World War II to defeat Zion's most elite tank regiment.

He then made a remarkable comeback and transformed himself, remaining undefeated in the war against Zion for many years, eventually becoming the commander-in-chief of the Arab Allied Forces.

This phenomenon is completely inexplicable by common sense; it's as if the other party has truly received divine revelation.

People like Oltra, the more rational they are, the more they feel a sense of fatalistic oppression.

Just as Oltra was lost in thought, the voice of the young staff officer beside him brought him back to reality:
"Lieutenant General, I've discovered a blind spot!"

Ortra: "What?"

The young Abraham staff officer's eyes gleamed with excitement as he pointed to their defensive line on the map: "Our current command post is a full 20 kilometers from Haifa city."

"So what if it's 20 kilometers..."

Before Oltra could finish speaking, a flash of inspiration struck him, and he instantly grasped the key point!
Abraham: "According to intelligence, Shuangzhi's army is widely equipped with M109 series self-propelled artillery, which we have captured before. Its standard range is usually between 10 and 15 kilometers, and even with extended-range ammunition, it is difficult to consistently exceed 30 kilometers. The fact that the enemy can so accurately strike the core area of ​​Haifa 20 kilometers away shows..."

"This means their artillery positions have definitely been pushed forward!"

Oltra's eyes lit up, and he exclaimed excitedly, "They must have pushed forward their artillery positions somewhere on our front line! The armored assault we're seeing now is likely just a smokescreen!"

Abraham nodded: "That's exactly right!"

In conventional military deployments, artillery positions, due to their powerful firepower but weak self-defense capabilities, are usually placed in the middle and rear of the overall battle formation, or even behind the command post. After all, if the artillery is approached by enemy ground forces, it almost means total annihilation.

Having figured this out, Oltra felt his blood boiling with excitement.

He never expected that such a huge opportunity was hidden beneath the crisis!
If he could seize this opportunity and decisively launch a counterattack, he might not only wipe out the enemy's main artillery force in one fell swoop, but could even turn the tide of the entire Battle of Haifa.

Even defeat Amir, who has never lost!
The allure of a desperate comeback, especially the glory of defeating a legend, is enough to make any general's blood boil.

Oltra abruptly stood up and decisively issued the order: "Pass on my order! Assemble the 7th and 11th Armored Divisions and launch a counter-breakout operation to the east! Tell them that our objective is to rip out the enemy's heart! The operation must be swift and resolute!"

"Yes, Commander!"

The entire command post was once again filled with the belief in victory. The adjutant and staff officer Abraham saluted simultaneously, and then relayed the order that would change the course of the battle.

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.

Second Lieutenant Itan Katz of the 403rd Panzer Regiment quickly received orders from headquarters.

"receive."

He cut off communication with the company headquarters and instead gave orders to the crew inside the vehicle: "Attention all personnel, following orders from higher command, we will act as the vanguard in a counter-breakout operation. The objective is to break through the current line of contact, conduct reconnaissance deep into enemy territory, and locate and destroy their forward artillery positions."

Jacob, maintain combat formation and advance along route 3-1. David, prepare armor-piercing rounds. Yakov, observe the area ahead.

"Understood!" the three crew members responded in unison.

With the roar of the tank engine, the heavy Merkava began to move forward.

During the relatively safe journey, the crew began discussing the instructions from headquarters that they had just received over the communication channel.

"God, destroy the artillery position?"

"Are they trying to get us to break through their army group?" muttered David, the loader.

Lieutenant Itan replied, "No, according to the command's speculation, the Arabs have pushed their artillery positions forward, most likely to the front lines."

"This joke has gone too far, hasn't it?"

The pilot, Jacob, spoke through the headset: "What commander would be stupid enough to put the artillery at the front? Wouldn't that just be asking to be wiped out?"

"Who knows? Maybe the Arabs have changed their tactics. I heard they've already thrown shells into the city."

"Oh God!"

Itan leaned halfway out of the commander's cupola, the biting night wind whipping his cheeks as he listened intently to the sounds outside, filtering out the noise of the tank engine.

Soon after, a muffled and rhythmic sound seemed to drift from afar.

That sound was completely different from the roar of a tank engine or the clanging of tracks rolling over the ground.

Itan immediately tensed up!

He immediately asked into the microphone, "Gunner, loader, have you heard any unusual sounds?"

Both José and David said they hadn't heard clearly, but Jacob replied, "Commander, the engine and tracks are too loud. We can't hear anything from inside. Only you can make it out from the outside!" Itan held his breath and listened even more intently.

This time he heard it clearly.

That's right! The sound was faint, but it definitely existed, and it seemed to become clearer as they moved forward!

That's the sound of a howitzer firing!

You can’t go wrong!
"Fuck me..."

Itan couldn't help but mutter a curse under his breath, excitedly slapping the edge of the control tower. "Those guys in command actually guessed right! Jacob, speed up! Maintain course! Yossi, pay special attention to the 11 o'clock to 1 o'clock direction!"

He quickly grabbed the radio and reported to the company headquarters: "'Blacksmith Shop' calling company headquarters, we heard what sounds like enemy artillery fire coming from the direction of our vehicle, directly ahead, at an estimated distance of less than a kilometer! Repeat, signs of a possible enemy artillery position have been detected!"

"Received, continue."

Just as Itan was getting excited, the gunner Yossi's urgent voice rang out: "Commander! Eleven o'clock!"

Almost at the same time as Yosi reported, Itan also saw the top of a mound in the distance, where a blurry turret outline slowly rose. Its unique shape was that of an M60A1 main battle tank!

"Approach! 11 o'clock, M60A1! Gunner, armor-piercing rounds! Aim!" Ittan's voice rose instantly.

"Armor-piercing rounds, ready!" David shouted almost at the same time Itan gave the order.

"Aiming complete!" Yosi reacted just as quickly, and the turret steadily pointed at the target as he operated.

The enemy had obviously spotted them as well, and began adjusting their gun barrels.

"Fire!"

"Boom!" The Merkava's massive body jolted violently, and its cannon spewed out blazing flames and thick smoke.

Almost simultaneously, the muzzle of the Shuangzhi tank flashed, and the shells, whistling, swept over the Merkava, hitting the land behind and kicking up clouds of dust.

"Hit! Not penetrated! Ricochet!" Yosi reported quickly.

Through the scope, he saw that the M60A1 was still active.

"Load armor-piercing shells!" David shouted, deftly removing the spent cartridge case and inserting a new shell.

"Back up! Jacob, reverse! Find cover!" Itan shouted.

Merkava quickly reversed and hid behind a small mound.

At this moment, the radio crackled with noise as other Zion crews following behind also reported contact with the enemy.

Within minutes, over thirty tanks had gathered in the area, engaging in a fierce firefight with an equal number of Shuangzhi armored units.

On this narrow plain, shells whistled and flashes of light ripped through the night.

"Attention all units! 'Blacksmith' reports, enemy artillery position confirmed! The artillery fire is very clear!" Itan shouted over the radio.

"Received! We heard it too!" one of the crew members responded.

"Take them down! Destroy those cannons!" another tank commander's voice was filled with excitement.

Itan felt his blood boiling; the dawn of victory and immense honor seemed to be right before his eyes.

The Star of David! A national hero!
All of this seems within reach.

Just then, Yosi shouted excitedly, "Commander! Hit! Target on fire!"

Looking over, Itan saw flames shooting out from the top of the turret of the M60A1 that was entangled with them, and the hatch opened, with what appeared to be figures crawling out.

Meanwhile, the remaining Twin-West tanks seemed to be being pushed back steadily and even began to retreat.

"Well done! All troops, advance! Roll over! Destroy the artillery positions!" Ittan seemed to already see victory beckoning to him.

Jacob floored the accelerator, and the heavy Merkava unleashed its powerful acceleration.

The entire crew took the lead, roaring as they charged toward the slope where the tank battle had just taken place.

However, just as they were rushing toward the slope, a sharper, turbine-like roar, unlike that of a tank engine, came from behind the slope, and the noise grew louder and louder.

Immediately afterwards, a black shadow leaped out from behind the slope.

Then two, three.
Black figures emerged one after another from the night sky, like a pack of owls hunting their prey.

They rose from the ground, getting higher and higher, and quickly broke away from the firing elevation angle of the tank's main gun.

Itan's heart, which had just been boiling with excitement for victory, instantly plummeted into an icy abyss.

"Oh shit."

He yelled at the top of his lungs into both the radio and the car radio simultaneously, "It's a helicopter! An attack helicopter!!"

Itan watched helplessly as a cloud of smoke burst from the missile launcher under the lead AH-1 Cobra helicopter, followed by a long missile trailing a dazzling plume of flame, hurtling towards his tank like a javelin of death.

"Reverse!" That was all he managed to shout.

"boom!!!"

The missile accurately hit the Merkava tank's relatively weak top armor, and the huge impact caused the entire tank to shake and tilt violently as if it had been hit by a giant hammer.

Even Merkava's four-compartment design couldn't protect the soldiers inside this time.

Itan's crew was instantly engulfed by flames and shockwaves.

The radio crackled with panic as all the advancing Israeli tank commanders cried out in terror:

"Back up! Back up now!"

"We are ambushed!"

"Where are the air defense units?!"

The current low-altitude defense weapons used by the Zion army include radar-guided missiles like the "Longsword" and rapid-fire weapons like the Bofors, but the vast majority of them are towed and therefore do not follow tank units in their advance.

More Cobra attack helicopters joined the one-sided hunt, the night sky was lit up by streaks of missile exhaust, followed by Merkava tanks turning into burning torches, fireballs of explosions rising one after another, and steel fragments and exploding munitions flying everywhere.

From the air, these once majestic Merkava tanks now look like a group of rats exposed to the eagle's gaze, with nowhere to hide.

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 the forward command post of the Shuangzhi Expeditionary Force, Lu Lin was issuing combat orders in an orderly manner.

It feels so good to be back on the front lines and personally in command.

As the Allied Field Marshal, he usually only had strategic control, delegating all the operational details. This time, he certainly had a great time.

In the corner, the chief of staff who had just refuted his judgment was doing push-ups with a thick stack of operations manuals on his back, but his movements were getting more and more energetic.

They were clearly convinced.

Bandar stroked his bald head and couldn't help but ask, "Marshal, how can you be so sure they'll send in a tank raid?"

Lu Lin replied, "When the answer to a question is right there in front of you, you would do the same."

Zion will have to find a way to deal with our artillery positions; it's just a matter of time.

He then ordered: "After the 'long-range artillery' completes this round of effective firing, it should immediately move to a new position. Next, the enemy will most likely use artillery positions to try to counter us."

"Yes, sir!" The staff officer immediately turned around and relayed the order.

Looking out the window at the night sky faintly illuminated by the gunfire, Bandar sighed, "It seems the Zionians won't be getting any sleep tonight."

Lu Lin looked towards Haifa, where intermittent flashes of fire and muffled explosions echoed across the horizon.

He said casually, "It's just staying up late, you'll get used to it."

(End of this chapter)