Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 93 We Are United as One (Part Two)
The tracks of the M60A1 tank rolled over the crumbling concrete, and the machine gunner turned the turret toward the building on the right.

The streets were quiet; there were no civilians, not even a single enemy in sight.

Private Muhammad gripped his rifle tightly with both hands, his eyes fixed intently on the windows of the buildings on either side, his Adam's apple bobbing.

The roads in Ghanam are extremely narrow, only wide enough for one tank to pass through. Ahead lies a fork in the road, and several hundred meters ahead is a garment factory with guerrilla propaganda posters sprayed on its walls.

At that moment, a flash of light appeared on the second floor of the garment factory, and Muhammad suddenly fell backward, a bloody hole appearing in his helmet.

"There are snipers!"

The machine gunners began firing, and then the main gun of the M60A1 tank also opened fire. The shells pierced a large hole in the wall of the garment factory, and the huge roar sent up clouds of dust.

The guerrillas behind them stepped over the corpses, picked up the rifle from Muhammad's hand, and continued to follow the tanks.

At that moment, the machine guns of the Zionians, who were lying in ambush in the buildings on both sides, opened fire. A barrage of bullets swept across the street, and the two guerrillas were instantly torn to pieces.

A boy was swept in half at the waist, his intestines exposed, and he screamed in agony from the intense pain and fear.

Sergeant Jude decisively shot the boy in the head, ending his suffering, and then led a squad to prepare to go up the stairs to begin the encirclement.

More soldiers rushed up from behind and began to fight back, taking advantage of the cover.

"Grenade!"

An M26 mortar rolled to their feet. Infantry platoon leader Shamri grabbed it and threw it back. After the explosion, two soldiers rushed into the smoke but were taken down by crossfire.

The Zionists piled sandbags behind the load-bearing pillars, leaving only a ten-centimeter-wide field of fire. Machine guns protruded from the gaps, striking the frontal armor of the M60A1 with a clanging sound.

"RPG!" someone roared.

Mahmoud emerged from behind the broken wall carrying a rocket launcher, but before he could pull the trigger, he was shot in the chest by a sniper.

At that moment, the tank stepped on a landmine, and the immense destructive force instantly blew the surrounding soldiers away.

"smoke bomb!"

Shamri roared, "There's no field of fire here! We have to blow up the building and fire a signal flare to call for artillery support!"

The smoke grenade exploded in the middle of the street, and a thick white smoke screen instantly engulfed the entire street.

Shamri crouched low as he charged into the smoke, his M16 at his waist, and fired blindly toward the garment factory.

The bullet struck the concrete wall, sending up a shower of sparks.

Three guerrillas followed behind him, one of whom was knocked down by a bullet fired from the rooftop after taking only two steps.

Shamri did not look back and continued to advance until a bullet struck his thigh.

He grunted, knelt on one knee, and drew a signal pistol from his waist.

Immediately afterwards, a bullet pierced his chest.

Shamri's hand fell to his side, but the young guerrilla took the signal pistol from him and continued running forward.

The Zionists' machine guns were still roaring, bullets piercing the smoke and carving lines of bullet holes in the streets.

The young guerrilla was hit in the neck by a stray bullet, and most of his neck was torn off. His strength seemed to be rapidly draining away with the wound on his neck.

The signal gun slipped from his hand, but was caught steadily by the next person.

"Detonation ready!" the engineer roared. "Everyone take cover!"

Meanwhile, the guerrilla who caught the signal gun had rushed into effective firing range. Facing the roaring gun barrels of the Zionians, he pulled the trigger towards the sky above the garment factory.

The bullet pierced his body, exploding into puffs of blood mist.

A red signal flare pierced through the smoke and rose slowly into the sky. ————

Lu Lin was looking down from the sky.

Because it was street fighting, his eagle-like perspective couldn't capture enemies hidden in buildings, but he could still see the fierce battle raging in the city.

At that moment, he saw the signal flare slowly rising.

He gave the order over the radio: "Artillery battalion, M110 heavy guns, prepare, coordinates corrected to ————"

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, Zion soldiers watched helplessly as two buildings collapsed in the explosion.

Sunlight suddenly streamed in, and the machine gunner squinted: "What exactly are these people trying to do?"

The Zion soldiers were somewhat confused when, in the next second, the Grim Reaper's whistle descended from the sky.

"hidden--!"

But it was too late.

The moment the first 203mm shell pierced the dome of the garment factory, the entire building seemed to be crushed by an invisible giant hand.

To the soldiers and guerrillas, the reinforced concrete structure first collapsed inward, then expanded outward amidst the terrifying shockwave.

Amidst a deafening clap of thunder, the garment factory was reduced to countless fragments, the shockwave spreading in a ring and shattering all the glass within three city blocks.

When the smoke cleared, the garment factory was in ruins, leaving behind a crater thirty meters in diameter.

The Zion soldiers inside were also reduced to ashes along with the reinforced concrete structure.

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.

Ahmed, who was on his way to the government building, also saw the signal flare rising, followed by a huge roar that made people feel a tightness in their chests even five or six kilometers away.

The shockwave from the explosion seemed to darken the sky and earth for a moment before it returned to light.

"It looks like artillery from Shuangzhi's side!" The scout clicked his tongue. "Damn it, what caliber is that!"

"155mm?" another guerrilla fighter said. "Could it be a 203mm?"

At this moment, a guerrilla fighter wearing a green turban interjected: "I heard that Major General Amir, the commander on Shuangzhi's side, is a master of artillery command. Perhaps we can guide him to fire artillery with signal flares, just like we did before!"

This statement immediately opened Ahmed's mind.

Yup!

He was originally thinking about how to deal with the Zion's ammunition depot, but now he suddenly realized that he could directly call in friendly artillery fire to cover the area!
But then a new problem arose, and Ahmed pondered:

"The problem is how we should call them. Besides flares, they should have other ways to confirm contact, and we don't have any red flares."

“Making a call is easy to handle,” the guerrilla fighter with the green turban replied. “We can contact our brothers with the Shuangzhi army via radio and have them relay the message to the Shuangzhi officers.”

After saying that, he looked at Ahmed and said, "We'll have to figure out how to make the signal flares ourselves."

"Let's take it one step at a time," Ahmed said. "Perhaps we won't even need the major general's firepower support to take down the government building!"

"Pah!" The investigator spat and said angrily, "The mention of government buildings reminds me of those bastards, a bunch of spineless cowards who only know how to grovel!"

"The past is the past, and the future is yet to come."

Ahmed looked into the distance: "Guys, let's get started now."

(End of this chapter)