Chapter 1373
The Plan to Die Together
Chapter 1373 The Plan to Die Together
With Samir's command, the tank's main gun fired.
The high-explosive shell fired from the 125mm smoothbore gun hit the window directly.
The entire wall was blown up, burying the shooters inside under the rubble.
But the battle is not over yet.
Dozens of 1515 militants poured out of the buildings on both sides of the street.
Some of them were carrying rifles, some were carrying rocket launchers, and some were even carrying explosive packs, trying to approach the tank.
"Infantry, clear the buildings and protect the tank unit!" Samir ordered.
The mechanized infantry following behind the tanks began to move.
They split into groups of twelve, taking turns providing cover as they entered the buildings on both sides of the street.
The house-to-house clearing operation has begun.
This is the most brutal part of urban warfare.
Every house may harbor enemies, every door may fire bullets, and every corner may be planted with bombs.
The A platoon of the First Infantry Company entered a three-story residential building.
There's no one on the first floor.
They carefully climbed the stairs, and in the living room on the second floor, two 1515 militants were crouching by the window, aiming their RPGs at the tanks on the street.
"Grenade!"
A soldier throws a grenade.
After the explosion, the two rushed in and finished off the attackers.
Safety.
They continued up to the third floor. At the top of the stairs, a tripwire was triggered.
"Booby Trap!"
But it was too late.
A grenade hanging on the stair railing exploded, and shrapnel hit the two soldiers at the front.
One person was wounded in the leg, and another was shot in the abdomen.
"Medic!"
Medics rushed over and bandaged the wounded.
The others were more cautious, checking every step with mine detectors.
The room on the third floor was tightly closed.
The squad leader gave a hand signal, and two soldiers stood ready on either side of the door. A third soldier then used a battering ram to break down the door.
The moment the door opened, the sound of AK-47 gunfire came from inside.
The bullet struck the door frame, sending sparks flying.
The soldiers on the side of the door returned fire, throwing in a flashbang.
After the explosion, they rushed inside. There were three armed men in the room, all blinded by the flashes, firing wildly.
The soldiers fired precise shots, and three men fell.
Upon inspecting the room, they discovered a hidden door leading to the attic.
"There might be someone up there," the squad leader signaled.
They quietly climbed up to the attic.
It was very dark inside, with only a small skylight letting in light.
In a corner of the attic, several figures were huddled together.
They were not militants, but civilians.
An old man, two women, and three children. They huddled together, shivering.
"Safety is for civilians," the squad leader reported.
He walked over and said in Arabic, “We are government troops, here to liberate this city. You are safe.”
The old man looked at him, and tears streamed down his face.
The women began to weep, and the children stared blankly at the fully armed soldiers.
"Take them downstairs and to the safe zone," the squad leader ordered.
Two soldiers escorted the civilians downstairs.
The others continued clearing out the next building.
Such scenes were playing out across the Eastern Front.
Some buildings contained only enemies, and fierce fighting ensued, resulting in heavy casualties.
Some buildings contained only civilians, and the soldiers moved them to the rear.
Some buildings contain both, making the battles more complex.
The advance is very slow.
In one hour, they only moved forward 300 meters.
But Samir wasn't in a hurry.
That's how urban warfare works; you can't rush it.
Every step must be taken carefully, otherwise the cost will be even greater.
He looked at the map and saw that they had already occupied one-third of the East District.
At this rate, they should be able to reach the edge of the city center before sunset today.
“Report the casualties,” he said.
The staff officer replied: "Forty-seven men were killed and one hundred and twenty-three were wounded. Two tanks and five infantry fighting vehicles were lost."
Samir nodded.
The casualties were less than expected, but still heavy.
Behind every number is a living, breathing person.
"Let the troops rest for fifteen minutes, replenish ammunition, and treat the wounded," he ordered. "After fifteen minutes, continue the advance."
"Yes."
Samir jumped off the tank and walked to the roadside.
A young soldier is bandaging a wounded soldier who has been shot in the abdomen and is bleeding profusely.
"How is it?" Samir asked.
"His liver is damaged and he needs surgery, but we can't send him back right now." The soldier's voice was choked with tears. "He won't last much longer."
Samir looked at the wounded man, who was probably only twenty years old, pale-faced and breathing rapidly.
“Use my helicopter,” Samir said. “Send him to the field hospital.”
"But General, that's yours..."
“Execute the order,” Samir interrupted him.
"Yes!"
Soldiers and medics carried the wounded onto stretchers and ran to the rear.
Samir stood there, watching them walk away. The wounded man might live, or he might die.
That's how war is; some people are lucky, and some are unlucky.
He took a deep breath and then let out a long sigh.
There is still a long way to go.
Tikrit West Line, 8:00 AM.
Nassin crouched in the bunker, using binoculars to observe the direction of the city.
After the first breakout attempt was repelled, the western front remained quiet for two hours.
But Nassin knew this was just the calm before the storm.
1515 will definitely try to break through again.
The western route is the only passage to the desert, and if they want to escape to Syria, they must break through from here.
"Report!" came the radio from the forward observation post: "There's movement at the city's west gate. A large number of people are gathering, at least three hundred. There are vehicles, including pickup trucks and technical vehicles."
Nassin's spirits lifted: "Get ready. We can't let them get close to the defensive line this time."
"But... Commander, they used civilians as human shields again. About a hundred civilians were walking in front."
Nassin's heart sank.
This trick again.
Previously, reports from the southern front indicated that the 1515 militants used civilians as human shields, causing significant trouble for mercenary battalions and government special forces companies.
It seems they intend to use the same trick again here.
He picked up his binoculars and indeed saw a group of people pouring out of the city gate.
At the front were civilians, including the elderly, women, and children, about a hundred people in total.
Behind them were armed men, about two hundred in number, driving more than twenty vehicles of various kinds.
Distance: 2 kilometers.
"What should we do?" the adjutant asked. "If we open fire, we'll kill civilians. If we don't fire, they'll break through our lines."
Nassin thought for a few seconds.
"Execute Mr. Song's previous orders and let them within two hundred meters." He ordered, "Then disperse the civilians with non-lethal weapons. At the same time, prepare the artillery; once the civilians disperse, immediately bombard them with artillery fire."
What if the exorcism fails?
Nassin remained silent.
"Then..."
After a moment, he slowly said, "Aim at the rear of the convoy and fire. Use artillery fire to block the following troops and let the men in front rush over. Then our infantry will take care of them at close range."
"That would result in heavy casualties for us."
“I know,” Nassin said, “but it’s an order.”
The order has been issued.
Soldiers of the Holy City Brigade on the western front began preparations.
Non-lethal weapons were deployed to the front lines, machine gun positions adjusted their firing angles, and artillerymen calculated firing data.
The crowd was getting closer.
One thousand meters.
Nassin could now see the faces of the civilians in the front row.
They looked even more terrified than the group on the southern front; some were even being pushed along with guns pointed at their backs by militants.
Eight hundred meters.
The militants began firing, not at the defensive line, but into the air, intimidating civilians and urging them to speed up.
500 meters. 300 meters...
"Non-lethal weapons, fire!"
Tear gas, stun grenades...
Everything that could be used was used.
However, the effect was limited.
The civilians coughed, wept, and fell, but the armed men behind them drove them forward with gun butts, forcing them to keep going.
Two hundred meters.
"Bombard the rear of the convoy!"
Nassin gave the order.
The artillery on the western front opened fire.
Six Dawn-5 rocket launchers fired simultaneously, sending 72 rockets hurtling toward the rear of the convoy.
The explosion was deafening.
Several vehicles at the rear of the convoy were hit directly and blown to pieces.
The explosion blocked the road, splitting the convoy in two.
In the first half, about ten vehicles and more than a hundred civilians continued to rush toward the defensive line.
In the latter half, they were blocked by artillery fire and could not advance.
But the first half of the race had already covered 300 meters.
"Infantry, prepare for close combat!" Nassin yelled over the radio. "Aim for gunmen! Watch out for civilians!"
Soldiers from the Quds Force rushed out of their bunkers.
They did not fire, but waited for the convoy to be within 100 meters.
Fifty meters.
Nassin spotted the pickup truck leading the way.
The vehicle was equipped with a DShK heavy machine gun, and the gunner had already begun firing.
Bullets struck the bunker, sending up shards of rock.
"Fire!"
All weapons on the defensive line opened fire simultaneously.
Machine guns, rifles, rocket launchers...
Bullets and rockets rained down on the convoy.
The first pickup truck was riddled with bullets, and everyone inside died.
But the cars behind continued to rush forward.
A suicide truck accelerated, attempting to break through the defensive line.
Nassin saw the driver in the truck cab, a young man, probably not even twenty, with a fanatical expression.
On the defensive line, a soldier raises his rifle and aims.
But it was too close, there wasn't enough time.
The truck rushed to within twenty meters of the defensive line.
Just then, a soldier from the Holy City Brigade rushed out from the side, carrying an RPG on his shoulder.
call out--
boom--
The rocket hit the side of the truck.
The explosion detonated the explosives on the vehicle.
The enormous fireball engulfed the truck and the soldier.
The shockwave swept across the surroundings, knocking over several nearby soldiers.
A breach was blown in the defensive line.
"Plug the breach!" Nassin shouted.
The soldiers rushed forward and fired at the charging militants.
Close-quarters combat has begun.
This is the most brutal battle, with the distance so close that you can see each other's faces.
Bullets whistled through the air, and grenades exploded in the crowd.
The breach was eventually plugged.
The more than 30 armed men who rushed in were all wiped out.
But the Holy City Brigade also paid a heavy price.
At least forty people were killed and many more were wounded.
Seeing no hope of breaking through, the remaining militants began to retreat.
But artillery fire covered their retreat route, and most of them died during the retreat.
The battle lasted for twenty minutes.
As the gunfire gradually subsided, the western front was already piled high with corpses.
The number of civilian casualties was also very high.
Of those hundred-plus civilians, at least half died in the crossfire.
Some were shot by militants, some were hit by stray bullets, and some were caught in the blast wave.
The surviving civilians dragged their wounded relatives toward the Holy City Brigade's defensive line.
Nassin left the command vehicle and arrived at the evacuation site.
The adjutant interrupted, "Sir, these people need to be screened..."
Nassin could only stop and watch from a distance.
He saw a dead mother, still holding her child in her arms; both of them were dead.
Next to him was an elderly man with his hands tied behind his back, clearly being held hostage.
There was blood everywhere.
He closed his eyes, unable to bear looking at it.
In this war, no one is a winner.
"Take stock of casualties and repair the defenses." He turned around and slowly walked towards the command vehicle, saying in a deep voice, "They might try again."
"Yes."
Nassin walked back to the command vehicle, plopped down in his seat, and felt completely exhausted.
The time is 9:35 AM.
Fierce fighting is taking place on all four fronts, and blood is being shed on every front.
But the war must continue.
Until the very last shot.
In the underground command post in downtown Tikrit.
Zarqawi's face grew increasingly grim as he listened to the reports from various fronts.
On the eastern front, the enemy has advanced to within two kilometers of the city center.
On the western front, two breakout attempts failed, resulting in the loss of over four hundred men.
On the southern front, although the human shield tactic caused chaos among the enemy, the breakout force was almost completely wiped out.
On the northern front, the Koldeids are making steady progress and have already occupied half of the northern city.
His troops are being compressed, and their room for maneuver is shrinking.
“How many of us do we have?” he asked.
"Less than ten thousand left." Sweat beaded on his forehead. "Ammunition is still plentiful, but morale is low. Many want to surrender."
"Surrender?" Zarqawi sneered. "Tell them that surrendering means death. These infidels will not let us go. The only way out is to fight to the end."
"But……"
“No buts,” Zarqawi interrupted him. “Execute the final plan. Plant all the explosives, prepare all the poison gas. We will make this city the enemy’s graveyard.”
"That commoner..."
“Civilians?” A glint of madness flashed in Zarqawi’s eyes. “Let them die. It is the will of God.”
The subordinate could only nod: "Yes, sir."
He turned and left.
Zarqawi sat alone in the dimly lit basement.
He pulled a photograph from his pocket; it was of his wife and daughter.
Three years ago, they died in a U.S. airstrike.
From then on, all he felt was hatred.
Hatred drove him from Iligo to Celia, and back to Iligo.
He participated in 1515, fought countless battles, and killed countless people.
Now, it may really be the end.
He was not afraid of death.
For him, death was simply going to see God and his family.
But he was unwilling to do so.
Unwilling to accept defeat, unwilling to let the enemy easily occupy the city.
"Commander!" A soldier rushed in, his face filled with terror. "The enemy... the enemy tanks are at City Hall Square! They're only 500 meters away!"
Zarqawi stood up and calmly said, "Understood. Carry out the final orders."
"What order?"
"Detonate all the explosives, release all the poison gas," Zarqawi said. "Let us and this city turn to ashes together."
The soldier's face turned deathly pale: "But... our people are still fighting outside! The civilians are still..."
"Execute the order!" Zarqawi roared. "It is the will of God!"
The soldier, seeing the madness in his eyes, knew that further words would be of no use.
He turned and ran out.
Zarqawi straightened his clothes, picked up the submachine gun on the table, and walked towards the door.
He wanted to die on the battlefield, or at least die like a warrior.
Asking for a monthly ticket! Asking for a monthly ticket!
(End of this chapter)