Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 71 "I defended against all your moves!"

"Screw the support! We're under attack too!" Brigadier General Eugene shouted into the communicator.

Suddenly he perked up his ears; the enemy's artillery fire outside the window seemed to have lessened.

"The artillery fire has thinned out!"

Brigadier General Eugene looked up sharply, then hung up the communication, a look of delight on his face: "The direction is right! The enemy is under our control!"

The chief of staff strode over: "General, the acoustic detection team still can't pinpoint the exact location, but the weakening of the artillery fire does indicate that the enemy's artillery positions are in the northeast direction."

"Idiot!" Brigadier General Eugene cursed. "If we had waited for you to report, our command post would have been razed to the ground!"

"Uh," the chief of staff seemed somewhat frustrated.

Since the command post was semi-underground, Lu Lin couldn't spot the target from the air for a while and could only target the area with the most red dots and the exposed armored units with the open air.

"Call the air force to confirm the enemy's location."

Brigadier General Eugene grabbed the radio and switched to the divisional channel: "Calling Eagle's Nest, requesting aerial reconnaissance! Target area NK-7428 to NK-7430, enemy artillery positions confirmed!"

"identity."

"Iron Shield Six!"

A response came from the other end of the radio: "Received, Mirage III has taken off and is expected to arrive at the target area in 15 minutes."

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.

Meanwhile, the 11th Artillery Company was shifting positions under cover.

About ten minutes later, the artillery barrage landed on their previous position, producing a continuous series of muffled thuds, and even the ground beneath their feet trembled.

Sergeant Khalid exclaimed, "The Major General is truly amazing! If we hadn't moved ahead of time, even if the men had managed to escape, the mortars and radar vehicles would definitely have been destroyed!"

“What’s so special about that!” Captain Saleh scoffed. “Last year at the Nukoshir outpost, we had nothing. The lieutenant colonel held off an entire tank regiment’s attack from Zion with just the artillery positions and even blew up the enemy commander!”

After saying that, he puffed out the Warrior Medal on his chest, drawing envious glances from the surrounding recruits.

"And what we have now is not those old relics from back then."

Captain Saleh said confidently, "Just you wait and see, the lieutenant colonel will send all these Zion devils to meet their so-called God!"

The artillery company commander frowned: "Stop talking nonsense! Have you all forgotten how you trained? This isn't a picnic! Quickly complete the position deployment and prepare to carry out the Major General's next instructions!"

Sergeant Khalid and the other recruits immediately saluted: "Yes, sir!"

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.

Fifteen minutes later, two Mirage III fighter jets from Zion Air Force 119 Squadron flew low overhead.

"Robin, you have reached the designated area and are currently at the enemy's artillery position. Over."

Captain Amir Vla looked down from the cockpit at the ground, where the desert sand gleamed blindingly white in the sun.

"Tsk."

He gripped the control stick with his knee and then spoke to his wingman via intercom, “Same as always, I’ll go down as bait, you maintain altitude and take pictures.”

If you see a missile, immediately shout "Move!"

“Understood, sir,” the young Lieutenant Ilan Levy replied.

The two Mirage IIIs separated at an altitude of 6,000 meters. Fraser pushed the control stick, and the fighter jet swooped down. The altimeter needle spun rapidly, quickly dropping from 5500 to 4500, indicating that he was getting closer and closer to the ground.

The Mirage III is equipped with a radar warning receiver, which can detect the frequency bands of ground-based fire control radar and early warning radar.

Frat pressed the camera switch while scanning the radar warning device on the dashboard.

When the altitude reached 4,000 meters, the radar warning device suddenly emitted intermittent "beep" sounds.

"Suspected ground radar." The experienced Captain Fra immediately pulled up his fighter jet. "Rookie, is your side clear?"

"Wait a minute, I think I saw a flash on the ground!"

Fula turned his head sharply and saw two plumes of white smoke rising from the ground.

"It's an anti-aircraft missile!"

Captain Fraa raised his voice, a situation he was familiar with; he had encountered it more than once last year during a bombing mission at Masr Airport.

"Deploy aluminum foil flares!" "Move! Move!"

Vla caught a glimpse of Ilan's phantom climbing, and then the missile was detonated by a chaff and flares behind the aircraft.

"Continue with the mission, I'll distract the second one."

Fra deliberately slowed down, allowing the second missile to continue tracking him.

As the missile approached the inner circle of the radar, he manipulated the Mirage III to roll in the opposite direction, while simultaneously releasing flares on both sides.

The missile's seeker head was interfered with by the bright light and grazed past the vertical stabilizer.

"Great!" came Ilan's voice. "I've got the launch site in my photos!"

Just then, the alarm suddenly turned into a continuous beeping sound!

Fura's blood froze instantly—it was the sound of being locked onto by the fire control radar!

"Get out of the way!!"

He saw another plume of white smoke rise from the direction of the mine, this time heading straight for Ilan high in the sky.

Ilan slammed the control stick, but it was too late. The fragments detonated by the missile's proximity fuse instantly pierced the right engine, and the Mirage III burst into flames.

"I've been shot!" Ilan's shouts rang out amidst the sirens. "The hydraulic system has failed!"

Seeing his wingman plummeting into the distance trailing thick smoke, Fratt immediately turned his plane around to provide cover.

"Hold on, I'll cover you!"

He lowered the nose of the plane and cut towards Ilan's crash site, while simultaneously releasing flares to create a smoke barrier.

But the radar alarm emitted a shrill whistle again.

A streak of light, trailing a fiery tail, hurtled towards them from the opposite direction. Flame yanked the control stick to try and break free, but it was too late. They collided like medieval knights.

The last thing Fraa saw was Ilan's parachute unfurling in the blue sky, and the approaching flames of death.

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.

An urgent call came over the radio: "Reconnaissance plane shot down! Repeat, reconnaissance plane shot down!"

Eugene's face darkened, and he slammed his fist on the armored vehicle's steel plate: "Damn it, there are anti-aircraft missiles on the other side!"

"General, what do we do now?" The chief of staff strode forward, his voice filled with anxiety. "Without aerial reconnaissance, we can't pinpoint their artillery positions!"

Brigadier General Eugene paced back and forth, his combat boots clattering against the steel plates.

In this situation, they would have to figure out the enemy's location on their own.

He glanced out the window at the soldiers and vehicles busy fighting the fire, then suddenly stopped.

"Send a reconnaissance platoon!" The brigadier turned abruptly. "Have them take radios and laser rangefinders and sneak along the valley." His finger slammed heavily on the map. "Once the enemy's position is located, immediately guide the artillery to counterattack!"

The chief of staff quickly grasped the intention: "The trench terrain near the position is indeed suitable for covert infiltration and is not easily detected by radar."

The order was quickly relayed. Several reconnaissance teams immediately dispersed and silently infiltrated the intricate dry river valley.

“Once we find their artillery positions,” Brigadier General Eugene slammed his fist on the battle table, making his coffee cup jump, “we’ll wipe them out completely! Then our armored forces will crush them head-on!”

He was burning with rage. When had the Zion army ever fought such a humiliating battle?
They were ambushed from behind and still don't know the enemy's exact location.

Brigadier General Eugene gritted his teeth, determined to personally vent his anger once he caught the opposing commander!
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 was observing the Zion 58th Armored Brigade's every move from the sky.

Dust billowed from the east side of the camp as several M3 half-track vehicles carrying a reconnaissance platoon stealthily approached along the dry river valley.

"They've come to see us?"

Lu Lin immediately understood the other party's intention. Without external assistance, they would probably have to rely on the guard posts deployed along the way.

He picked up the walkie-talkie and began directing the mobile forces responsible for guarding the outposts to move toward the Zion reconnaissance forces.

"Want to sneak in like a mouse and cause trouble?"

"But sorry, I've opened up the entire map, so I've defended against all your attacks!"

(End of this chapter)