Chapter 1795 - 1373: Civilians (2)

"One month?" Zakavi shook his head: "We don't have a month. The army outside has tanks, artillery, planes. We only have rifles and rocket launchers."

He stood up and walked to the map.

On the map, Tikrit was surrounded by four red lines, which were the enemy's attack directions.

"Notify all units." Zakavi ordered, "Execute the 'Trial by Fire' plan."

His subordinates' faces changed instantly.

"Commander, that plan..."

"Execute the order." Zakavi's voice was cold: "Since they want to take back this city, then give them a grave. Bury all the explosives, prepare all the gas bombs. If we're going to die, then let the whole city be buried with us."

"What about the civilians..."

"Civilians?" Zakavi laughed, his smile twisted, his expression extremely grim: "They are Allah's test. If they can die in the jihad, it is their honor. If not... then they are traitors, deserving death."

He looked at his watch.

The time pointed to 6:40.

It was already daylight, but the basement was still dark.

Only an emergency lamp lit the map on the table, the red lines representing death.

"Furthermore!" Zakavi added: "Organize a second wave of breakout. This time don't take the west route, use the south route. Clear the way with civilians, mix with them and rush out. As many as can go should go."

"There are snipers on the south route..."

"Then use more civilians."

Zakavi impatiently waved his hand: "Go grab them, from basements, shelters, ruins, get everyone who can walk. Old people, women, children, all fine. Let them walk in front, with our people behind, or load them onto our vehicles. Tell the warriors, this is for jihad, for Allah."

The subordinate bowed his head and replied: "Yes, sir."

He turned and left, his footsteps echoing in the underground corridor.

Zakavi stood alone in front of the map, his fingers caressing the outline of Tikrit.

This city was once his glory, now it's about to become his grave.

But he had no regrets.

Two years ago, when he came here, he was just an ordinary religious student.

Now, he is a General of the "Caliphate", with a thousand warriors under him, controlling a city.

Even if he dies today, it's worth it.

Another explosion sounded above, closer, louder.

Dust fell from the ceiling.

Zakavi picked up the Quran on the table, turned to the familiar chapter, and began to recite in a low voice.

This was his last moment, he wanted to die as a warrior.

Hulmatu direction, joint operational command center.

Song Heping looked at the reports on the screen from various fronts.

The eastern front progressed smoothly, Samir's Tenth Division had penetrated three kilometers into the city, clearing the industrial area.

The western front successfully repelled the first breakout wave, but suffered considerable casualties.

The northern front established a beachhead, but the street fighting progressed slowly, paying a price for every hundred meters forward.

The southern front...

The southern front was a disaster.

He looked at the drone footage—

Around City Hall Square, bodies were everywhere.

The bodies of civilians, government army soldiers, 1515 Armed fighters, mixed together, indistinguishable.

Some survivors hid in the ruins, not daring to move.

"Estimated civilian casualties?" he asked.

The intelligence officer pulled up the data analysis: "Based on thermal imaging and visible light footage, at least 120 civilians are dead, possibly more. There are also a large number of injured."

Song Heping closed his eyes.

This was not his first time facing such a situation.

War is always like this, with civilians suffering the most.

But each time he faced it, he felt that cold sense of powerlessness.

"Old squad leader." Jiang Feng said in a low voice, "1515 is organizing a second wave of civilian shields. More people are being driven out of underground shelters this time, the direction is the south line, maybe they're trying to break through amid the chaos."

On the screen, drone footage showed squads of civilians being driven out of various basements by militants, gathered onto several main streets.

The number was large, at least nearly a thousand people.

Militants mixed among them, pointing guns at the civilians' backs.

"The southern line troops request orders." The communications officer turned to inquire: "Is permission to open fire granted?"

Song Heping was silent.

He knew what the correct military decision was.

Open fire, eliminate everyone trying to break through, including militants and civilians.

Because if these people successfully break through, it means the failure of the entire operation.

Moreover, if not firing, the southern line troops would be slaughtered.

But those were hundreds of lives.

Most were innocent.

"Old squad leader," Jiang Feng's voice was lower: "If we let them break through, pressure on Naxin on the west line will increase. And these people fleeing will pose a threat to other surrounding towns."

Song Heping opened his eyes.

He looked at the screen, at the civilians trembling under gunpoint, at the militants hiding behind them.

"Order the southern line troops," he said word by word, "When the civilian shield approaches within a hundred meters, first use non-lethal weapons, tear gas, shock bombs, use whatever we have. Simultaneously, snipers accurately eliminate militants mixed among the civilians, launch assaults in the confusion."

"But if we fail?" Jiang Feng asked.

"Then..." Song Heping paused, "then let them through."

"What?"

"Let them break through," Song Heping repeated, "but after they leave the city, use artillery fire to cover the area, establish a barrier zone, prevent subsequent 1515 elements from escaping."

Jiang Feng understood.

This was a compromise solution under helplessness.

Let the civilians and militants at the forefront of the breakout pass, but use artillery fire to block subsequent forces, simultaneously killing militants.