Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 237 Night Battle Summary

Lu Lin's original plan was to have Shuangzhi's assault brigade break up into smaller units in the city, causing greater damage and chaos behind enemy lines, and forcing the Fifth and Sixth Army Groups to send troops back to reinforce them.

This was undoubtedly an extremely cruel order, and the chances of survival for the soldiers of Shuangzhi who carried it out, regardless of whether they ultimately won the war, were extremely slim.

It would be a lie for Lu Lin to say he wasn't heartbroken, but he also knew the principle that a merciful general cannot command an army.

However, the news of Gorodish's capture completely changed his thinking.

Since ancient times, there has been a saying of "four great achievements" on the battlefield, namely: breaking into battle, being the first to scale the walls, capturing the flag, and beheading the general.

This standard still exists on the modern battlefield, but due to the change in the mode of warfare, the difficulty has become quite different.

However, Al-Harry's assault brigade not only accomplished three of the four tasks, but also captured the enemy's highest-ranking combat officer. If they can successfully bring Gorodish out, it will undoubtedly deal a devastating blow to Zion's morale.

From a strategic perspective, this surprise force has also exceeded its mission objectives. They successfully forced the Fifth and Sixth Armies to retreat their defensive lines, creating a valuable window of opportunity for the artillery.

Upon hearing the news, Bandar, who was standing nearby, pouted and said, "I wish I were a brigade commander."

"Should we demote the army group commander to brigade commander?"

Lu Lin teased, "I think you're itching for a bite."

Fahd chimed in, "Marshal, he's just jealous. The title of capturing the enemy's highest-ranking general isn't his!"

The highest-ranking Allied general captured or killed in the Zion War is still Osama bin Laden, who was temporarily promoted to general, a title far less prestigious than that of the actual Air Force Commander, Gorodish.

"If you send me, I can turn Haifa upside down!"

Bandar assured Lu Lin, "Don't even mention Gorodish, I could bring all the high-ranking officials of Haifa to you by force!"

Lu Lin deliberately put on a stern face and said seriously, "Alright then, I'll demote you to brigade commander now. When we attack Tel Aviv, we'll send you to carry out this mission."

Upon hearing this, Bandar immediately put on a fawning smile, the burly man bowing and scraping: "I was just saying, Marshal, please don't take it to heart."

Seeing his arrogant demeanor followed by his obsequious manner, the headquarters was instantly filled with a cheerful atmosphere.

“Al-Hali,” Lu Lin murmured the name, feeling a pang of emotion.

Back in Nukshir, that young man was a driver who would tremble even when driving a tank, but now he has grown into a valiant general who can penetrate deep into enemy territory without changing his expression.

War is indeed a good tool for finding gold in the sand.

In the Shuangzhi Unit, there are actually many young people like Al-Khali.

This actually illustrates that it's not that Arabs are incapable of fighting, but rather that their past armies suffered from numerous flaws in their systems, guidance, and ideology. With the right approach and methods, these warriors could still become the formidable figures who struck fear into the hearts of Europe centuries ago.

News also came back from the front lines: "Marshal, we have repelled Zion's attack and are currently continuing to eliminate the enemy's manpower."

He was being reported to by Captain Abbas, a special military talent who had been sent abroad by Shuangzhi in his early years.

"well done."

Lu Lin offered praise: "But be careful not to go too far into the airspace above the enemy's positions. The Zionists may have deployed low-altitude firepower, so be careful to avoid them."

"Understood." A brief response came from the other end of the radio.

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.

In contrast to the cheerful atmosphere at the Shuangzhi Command Post, the Tel Aviv General Headquarters was shrouded in a depressing silence.

When news came that Gorodish had been captured in Haifa and that there were even rumors of his potential surrender, no one could believe the bad news they had heard.

"How is this possible?"

"How could General Gorodish?"

Suppressed murmurs rose from the command post.

When Yeshavishin heard the news, his first reaction was not anger, but a profound sense of absurdity.

When he was still a brigade commander, Gorodish had already served as the Zion Air Force Commander for many years. At the same time, he was also a war hero during the founding war and one of the first honorees to receive the Order of David.

Can we still believe in loyalty?

Hilbert strode into the headquarters, his voice breaking the silence, "Even the Air Force Commander might betray us, how can we expect our rank and file to shed blood for this country?"

No one dared to respond to that.

Jesavishin composed himself and, forcing a smile, said, "Your Excellency, the most urgent task is to control the impact. I suggest that Gorodish be immediately dismissed from all his posts and that the government announce to the public that he has committed treason."

Lazars nodded in agreement: "That's right. At the same time, we need to appoint a new Air Force Commander as soon as possible to minimize Gorodish's influence in the military."

Hilbert looked at his Chief of Staff: "The question is, do we still have an air force?"

Lazars was speechless.

According to current intelligence, the Lamat David Air Base in Haifa is completely destroyed.

Everything, from infrastructure to people, was completely destroyed.

Everyone present understood what this meant—Zion's once-dominant air force in the Middle East had essentially lost its combat capability.

Yesavishin interjected at the opportune moment: "What needs to be done still needs to be done; giving up is never the right attitude to solve problems."

Lazars then changed his tune, saying, "We can first convert civilian airports in places like Tel Aviv into modern facilities and quickly establish supporting logistics systems to restore our air force's combat capabilities as quickly as possible."

Yasavishin gave the Mossad chief a wink, who understood and stepped forward to advise, "Your Excellency, you need to rest."

After experiencing the Third Army's disastrous defeat at the Hashim River, the arduous dealings with envoys from various countries, and the oath-taking speech in Jerusalem, the man in his sixties was already exhausted.

What worries Yessavichen even more is that Hilbert will become dependent on those stimulant drugs again.

"How can I possibly sleep at a time like this?" Hilbert waved his hand irritably.

"The specific battle damage statistics will not be available until tomorrow morning."

Yesavishen said seriously, "Only if you keep a clear head can we cope with the storm ahead."

Upon hearing this, Hilbert reluctantly nodded: "Alright. I hope to hear some good news by tomorrow morning."

Yesavishin and Lazars exchanged a glance. In this situation, the best news was that no worse news was coming.

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.

Inside the Fifth Army headquarters, Lieutenant General Oltra's face was so gloomy it could drip water.

Hundreds of thousands of soldiers outside the city are fighting a bloody battle with the Arab army, while Gorodish, the air force commander, has chosen to compromise inside the city?
You should have died in the line of duty, you bastard!
Adding to his woes, the failed tank raid on the enemy artillery positions had further dampened Oltra's spirits.

"What is our casualty ratio?" he asked, barely suppressing his anger.

Abraham's advisor hesitated for a moment: "It's close to 28 to 1."

"How many!?"

Ortra thought he had misheard: "We need 28 tanks to trade for one of their helicopters?"

"It's not a helicopter, it's a tank."

Abraham instinctively shrank back. "We have no clear record of shooting down any enemy helicopters."

After a long silence, Oltra finally spoke with difficulty: "Just tell me, how many troops did we lose just now?"

"The 7th Armored Division was basically wrecked, and the 11th Armored Division also suffered heavy losses. Preliminary statistics show that we lost about three battalions of tanks."

Three battalions, roughly ninety tanks. This number made Oltra feel dizzy.

He thought he had seized the opportunity to turn the tide of the battle, but it turned out to be a carefully laid trap by the enemy.

This is no longer as simple as having a piece of flesh bitten off; it's a real loss that could cause serious damage!
Only then did he truly realize the gap between himself and Amir.

"General, no matter what, we must find a way to stop the enemy artillery from continuing to bombard Haifa," Abraham reminded him.

That's true. It's like failing an exam; you know you'll fail, but you still have to write down what you know.
Oltra quickly calculated in his mind: Should he launch another tank charge? And then have the air defense forces follow behind specifically to guard against helicopters?

But he hesitated. If he suffered such losses again, his army group would become a pure infantry force.

Suddenly, he slapped his thigh: "The enemy has artillery, and we have artillery too!"

Ortra immediately ordered: "The 209th Artillery Brigade is to immediately launch a creeping barrage attack on the coordinate area, and the 155th Self-propelled Artillery Battalion is to extend its firepower and block all possible retreat routes!"

Since we can't find their exact location, we'll plow the entire area.

Why didn't I think of that?
Oltra was somewhat annoyed, realizing that it must be a change in his mindset that had led him astray.

Just then, an urgent report came from the front: "General, the enemy artillery has stopped firing!"

Abraham and his advisors breathed a sigh of relief.

But Ortra paused for two seconds, then angrily slammed the baton in his hand to the ground, breaking it in two.

Everyone was shocked.

"General."

Abraham asked cautiously, "Isn't it a good thing that the enemy has stopped shelling? Why are you still..."

"What good?"

Altra's voice trembled with anger, "This shows that the Arabs are shifting their positions, and our scheme has been seen through again!!"

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 still felt a dreamlike sense of disorientation even as the convoy entered the restricted area of ​​the expeditionary force's outpost headquarters.

The journey was legendary, from the desperate landing at Haifa Port to the bloody street fighting in the city, and then the miraculous breakout after capturing the enemy air force commander.

It could easily be written into a memoir after the war.

As the convoy slowly came to a stop in front of the command post, Al-Khali immediately spotted the figure standing at the very front.

In wartime, it is extremely dangerous for senior officers to be exposed in such an open area, but the act itself is the highest honor bestowed upon returning soldiers.

Before the car had even come to a complete stop, Al-Khali jumped out and ran to the general in a few quick steps.

"Marshal!" Al-Khali's grin stretched from ear to ear, wide enough to fit a watermelon.

The soldiers behind him jumped off the vehicle, straightening their backs in the cold wind, each with their chin held high and their noses almost touching the sky.

Despite being covered in dust, their eyes burned with the flames of victory.

Lu Lin stepped forward, his gaze slowly moving upwards from the tip of Al-Harry's boots, carefully examining the young soldier.

Under everyone's gaze, Lu Lin took off his marshal's coat, solemnly draped it over Al-Hari's shoulders, and then personally buttoned it up for him.

"marshal……"

"well done."

Lu Lin took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulled one out, and handed it over.

Al-Hali instinctively put it in his mouth, but before he could react, Lu Lin had already lit the lighter with a "snap" and brought it close to his face.

An angel lights a cigarette.

Al-Hali froze completely until Lu Lin lit one for himself, and the two of them huddled together in the cold wind, exhaling smoke. Only then did he come to his senses.

"Anyone else want a smoke? Come and get one yourself." Lu Lin opened a few more packs of cigarettes and said to the soldiers behind him.

The soldiers looked at each other and then stepped forward one after another.

Only a few hundred men from that assault brigade survived, and each of them had a cigarette pinned to their collar.

Even those who don't smoke hold the cigarette carefully in their mouths. This is an honor earned with blood, a medal for survivors.

"marshal,"

Halfway through the draw, Al-Khali lowered his voice, "Gorodish is still in the car..."

Lu Lin took a deep drag on his cigarette, the smoke condensing into white mist in the cold night: "After you all came back alive, he won't matter anymore."

Al-Khal felt a warm current flow through his body, dispelling even the chill of the winter night: "Marshal..."

"Don't say useless things."

Lu Lin glanced at the Yagu tribe behind him, who were taking notes rapidly. "There are people watching from behind."

Al-Harry: "Oh."

Sitting in the car, Gorodish looked at the figure in the distance; it was Amir, whom the entire Zion considered a great enemy.

Of course, he no longer has any reason to continue to be hostile towards the other party.

In fact, he understood everything Lu Lin was doing; it was nothing more than ignoring him and taking the opportunity to win over some people's hearts.

He had no objection to this, since he was already a prisoner anyway.

He can wait.

His identity, along with the intelligence and inside information he possesses, are exactly what the other party needs.

Then Gorodish saw the officer who had captured him standing next to Amir, pointing at him.

He straightened his collar and hair.

But it wasn't until he saw the other person finish a cigarette, then throw the cigarette butt on the ground and stomp it out.

Then she turned and left, never looking at him again.

This completely stunned Gorodish.

When the soldier guarding him returned gleefully with cigarettes, he asked in broken Arabic, "Doesn't your marshal intend to see me?"

“Who knows?” Zafield laughed. “Just you wait and see. I’m not the marshal’s adjutant.”

Gorodish: "Did he stand outside for so long just to have a cigarette with you guys?"

Shmuel wouldn't do it, Ziontar wouldn't do it, Bar-Lev wouldn't have done it earlier, and even Jesavishin probably wouldn't have done it.
Zafield retorted, "Otherwise what?"

"This is on the battlefield, where there's a risk of being hit on the head by a shell at any moment."

Gorodish couldn't understand it.

Just for such a simple reason?

Just for this little bit of formalism?
What can he get in return?
Zafield smiled and said, "But when we attacked Haifa, we didn't expect to come back alive."

(End of this chapter)