Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 94 We Are United as One (Part 3)
At 11:10 AM on October 10th, the Northern Expeditionary Force Command of Shuangzhi.

Lu Lin received a commendation order from His Majesty the King of Riyadh:

In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious and Merciful,
In the name of His Majesty King Shuangzhi,

In view of the current war situation and the needs of joint operations by the Allied forces, the Royal Military Council has unanimously decided to award the following:
Major General Amir bin Mohammed bin Abdulaziz Al Saud, commander of the Northern Expeditionary Force, is commended for his heroic leadership in the Battle of Sergiad, where he decisively commanded the defeat of the main force of the 58th Armored Brigade of Zion and captured its commander, successfully achieving the first phase of the operation and laying the foundation for victory in subsequent military operations.

A battle flag was specially awarded to the "Crowning Eagle" in recognition of their achievements.

May Major General Amir ibn Muhammad ibn Abdulaziz Al Saud continue his efforts, bearing witness in the name of Allah and swearing an oath of glory to lead his troops in valiant combat, living up to the trust placed in him by the Royal Family and the people.

—The Supreme Military Council of the Kingdom of Shuangzhi.

October 7, 1388 AH.

Fahd stood behind him holding the blue flag with gold patterns. Lu Lin unfurled the battle flag bestowed by the king, and the flag cascaded down like a waterfall, its size more than enough to cover him.

The flag had a blue background with a golden eagle and a sun crown, which for some reason reminded Lu Lin of the "U-group" style in Warhammer 40.

"You're not thinking of planting this flag on a tank and then leading the charge, are you?" Ibrahim's voice suddenly rang out, hitting the nail on the head.

“Uh,” Lu Lin said, a little embarrassed, as he placed the flag on the table. “This is just something I was thinking about.”

At this moment, Fahd interjected, "Actually, if you, Major General, personally commanded the tanks to charge on the front line, the entire armored division would be like it had been injected with chicken blood, and its morale would be greatly boosted!"

The story of the Major General tearing apart a tank with his bare hands in Nukoshir still circulates among the Northern Expeditionary Force. Although the Major General no longer commands tanks, he is still the honorary first tank commander in the unit.

Ibrahim glared at him: "Aren't you afraid something might happen to the Major General? You're supposed to be his personal guard!"

Fahd grinned: "I think it's quite fitting that the major general died on the charge. What's that saying again? 'Quite romantic'."

“Alright,” Lu Lin said, “I won’t personally charge into battle—unless it’s absolutely necessary. But since His Majesty has granted us the battle flag, let Bandar hang it up for me.”

Anyway, he likes to charge into battle in tanks.

Ibrahim quickly nodded: "That's right, I'll have someone send the flag to Bandar right away."

Fahd felt a little regretful. As a veteran of Nukoshir, who wouldn't want to follow behind Major General Nari's tank and charge one more time?

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.

When the battle flag was delivered to Bandar, the guy was debating whether it would be more efficient to ram the building with tanks or to bombard it with artillery.

Most of the buildings in Garnam are made of adobe, which is very brittle. What's even more interesting is the way they build tall buildings. Many families simply build on top of each other when they have a large family.

Therefore, it is also very easy to disassemble.

"Battle flag?"

Bandar unfurled the battle flag in the wind, looking at the design on it and remarking that while it was a bit ugly, it did suit the Major General quite well.

"Find me a stick and plant this flag on my tank!"

Bandar turned around, holding the flag, and jumped onto the tank turret. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew, and the azure flag fluttered in the wind.

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.

Smoke filled the Rose Square in Canham.

The guerrillas, relying on the ruins, used Molotov cocktails, old-fashioned rifles, and their own flesh and blood to hold back the advance of the Zion army.

Corpses littered the ground. A blood-soaked teenager leaped from the second floor, explosives strapped to his waist, and used himself as a bomb to crash into the Zionist armored vehicle, shouting his name in mid-air.

He was then engulfed by the flames of the explosion.

Around the square, countless eyes silently watched this scene, fingernails digging deep into their palms, their eyes burning with long-suppressed anger.

“If I were thirty years younger, I would definitely be in there.” Old Man Badov sighed. “Unfortunately, I’m already in my seventies or eighties. I can’t even lift a bomb. I can only watch the young people die.”

His cane banged loudly on the ground.

Suddenly, an old woman in a black robe stood up beside him and walked straight toward the door.

Grandpa Bardoff exclaimed in alarm, "Amina, are you out of your mind?! Zion's bullets don't have eyes!"

“The one who jumped just now was my son.” Amina pushed open the door. “He’s waiting for me.”

"Amina, Amina!"

All eyes turned to the mother. Amina walked over to a fallen guerrilla fighter and saw that he was about the same age as her son, and his eyes were still wide open when he died.

So he reached out and closed his eyes for him.

Then he took the gun from the other person.

"Merciful God, you will protect us."

Amina silently recited to herself as she picked up her gun. The people of Ghana were known for their fierce nature, and many women and children knew how to shoot.

The gunshot from behind startled the Zionist. Sergeant David raised his binoculars and exclaimed in surprise, "Sir, it's a woman!" "A civilian?"

"Uh, she's carrying a gun!"

"Those are the rebels!" Lieutenant Henry raised his rifle and aimed at Amina: "Rebels, kill them on sight!"

The bullet pierced Amina's shoulder; she staggered but did not fall.

She fired a shot, hitting Sergeant David in the left eye. He screamed and fell backward, clutching his bleeding eye.

Lieutenant Henry cursed and waved for the machine gunner to fire.

Bullets swept through, and Amina fell to the ground. Her gun was knocked away, and the bullets grazed her black robe, leaving bullet holes in the earthen wall behind her.

"Amina!"

Grandpa Badov's heart was in his throat.

"Go back! Don't come any closer!"

On the other side of the square, a young man covered in blood peeked out from behind cover and shouted at Grandma Amina.

Amina looked up at the young face covered in blood, and it was as if she were seeing her own son.

“Muhammad.” Her lips moved as she tried to crawl over.

But the next second, a sniper bullet pierced the young man's chest.

His body trembled violently. He looked down at the blood gushing from his chest, then slowly knelt down and finally collapsed to the ground.

Amina watched this scene without screaming or crying.

She simply crawled slowly over to the young man and held his head in her arms.

Then, she picked up his gun again.

Countless eyes in the residential buildings surrounding the square watched this scene.

"God is the greatest..." someone murmured.

"Most Gracious and Merciful Lord..."

"Please protect them..."

Grandpa Badov stood by the window, his cloudy tears rolling down his wrinkles.

He raised his hands, trembling, and prayed softly, "Lord, send down your messenger, let justice come..."

Suddenly, more women, elderly people, and even children came out of the street downstairs. Some of them were carrying stones, iron bars, kitchen knives, or even empty-handed.

They walked to the square, bent down, lowered their heads, and took the weapons from the fallen soldiers.

Cold sweat beaded on the machine gunner's forehead: "Sir, they...they're all civilians!"

“Not anymore,” Lieutenant Henry’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but his eyes quickly turned cold again: “Fire!”

The machine gun spewed flames from its muzzle.

The people in the front row fell down, but the people behind them took their place.

They wore all sorts of clothes, but the clanging of bullets being chambered was perfectly synchronized.

The Zionist armored vehicles turned their cannons and aimed them at the crowd.

Lieutenant Henry's finger was on the trigger again.

Just then, the ground began to shake.

The roar of engines came from afar, and the sound of steel tracks crushing rubble grew closer.

"What's that sound?" He turned around abruptly.

The next second, the building on the west side of the square collapsed with a roar, a steel behemoth broke through the wall, and blue flags fluttered in the wind.

"Nar!!"

The 105mm main gun fired, and the high-explosive shell penetrated the armored vehicle, detonating the ammunition pile.

The machine gun fire rained down on each Zion soldier as fairly as a judgment, allowing light to penetrate from their front to their backs.

In the violent explosion, the Zionist positions were sent flying into the air.

　Do you have any good military-themed movies or TV series to recommend? I was watching The Eight Hundred while writing this, and I got a little emotionally involved. I need to reflect on that.

(End of this chapter)