Chapter 1798 - 1374: A Mutual Destruction Plan

As Samir gave the order, the tank's main gun fired.

The high-explosive round from the 125mm smoothbore cannon directly hit the window.

The entire wall collapsed, burying the shooter inside the rubble.

But the battle was not over yet.

From the buildings on both sides of the street, dozens of 1515 Armed insurgents surged out.

Some of them were holding rifles, others rocket launchers, and some even carried explosive packs, attempting to approach the tank.

"Infantry, clear buildings and protect the tank squad!" Samir ordered.

Mechanized infantry behind the tank began to move.

They formed into groups, twelve people per group, providing alternate cover as they entered buildings on both sides of the street.

The house-by-house clearing started.

This was the most brutal part of urban warfare.

Every house could hide an enemy, every doorway could shoot out bullets, and every corner could hide a bomb.

A Platoon from the first infantry company entered a three-story residential building.

The first floor was empty.

They cautiously climbed the stairs; in the second-floor living room, two 1515 armed insurgents were crouched by the window, aiming an RPG at the tank in the street.

"Grenade!"

A soldier threw a grenade.

After the explosion, two rushed in, finishing with gunshots.

Secure.

They continued to the third floor. At the stairway entrance, a tripwire was triggered.

"Trap mine!"

But it was already too late.

A grenade hung on the stair railing exploded; shrapnel hit the two soldiers at the front.

One had a leg injury and the other was hit in the abdomen.

"Medic!"

A medic rushed forward to bandage the wounded.

The others became even more cautious, checking every step with mine detectors.

The door to the third-floor room was tightly closed.

The squad leader gestured; two soldiers prepared on either side of the door while a third soldier broke open the door with a battering ram.

As soon as the door opened, the sound of AK-47 firing was heard inside.

Bullets hit the doorframe, sparking.

The soldiers at the door returned fire, throwing a flashbang inside.

After the explosion, they rushed inside. Three insurgents were in the room, all blinded by the flash, shooting wildly.

The soldiers fired precise shots; all three fell.

The room inspection revealed a hidden door, leading to the attic.

"There might be someone above." The squad leader indicated.

They stealthily climbed up to the attic.

It was dark inside, only a small skylight allowing in light.

In the corner of the attic, some silhouettes were huddled.

Not insurgents, but civilians.

An old man, two women, and three children. They huddled together, trembling.

"Secure, they're civilians." The squad leader reported.

He walked over, speaking in Arabic: "We are the government army, here to liberate this city. You are safe now."

The old man looked at him, tears streaming down.

The women began to cry, and the children stared blankly at these fully armed soldiers.

"Escort them downstairs, take them to the safe zone." The squad leader ordered.

Two soldiers escorted the civilians downstairs.

The others continued clearing the next building.

Scenes like these played out across the East Line.

Some buildings only had enemies, with intense firefighting and heavy casualties.

Other buildings only had civilians, whom soldiers transferred to the rear.

Some buildings had both, complicating the battles.

Advancement was very slow.

In one hour, only 300 meters were gained.

But Samir was not in a hurry.

Urban warfare is like this; speed is impossible.

Every step must be steady, or the cost will be greater.

He checked the map; they had already occupied one-third of the East City District.

At this pace, they could reach the city center's edge by sunset today.

"Report the casualties," he said.

The aide responded: "Forty-seven KIA, one hundred twenty-three wounded. Two tanks lost, five Infantry Fighting Vehicles."

Samir nodded.

The casualties were smaller than expected but remained heavy.

Behind every number was a living person.

"Let the troops rest for fifteen minutes, re-supply ammunition, treat the wounded." He ordered, "In fifteen minutes, continue advancing."

"Yes."

Samir jumped off the tank, headed to the roadside.

A young soldier was bandaging a wounded man, who was shot in the abdomen, bleeding profusely.

"How is he?" Samir asked.

"Hit in the liver, needs surgery, but we can't send him back now." The soldier's voice choked, "He won't last long."

Samir looked at the wounded man, probably only twenty years old, face pale, breathing rapidly.

"Use my helicopter." Samir said, "Send him to the field hospital."

"But General, that's your..."

"Execute the order." Samir interrupted him.

"Yes!"

The soldier and medic lifted the wounded onto a stretcher, running to the rear.

Samir stood still, watching them depart. The wounded man might live, or might die.

This is war; some are lucky, some not.

He took a deep breath, then sighed heavily.

There is still a long way to go.

Tikrit West Line, 8 o'clock sharp.

Naxin crouched in the bunker, observing the city with binoculars.

After the first attempt to break through was repelled, the west line had been quiet for two hours.

But Naxin knew this was just the calm before the storm.

1515 would certainly try to break through again.

The west line is the only route to the desert; if they want to escape to Syria, they must break through here.

"Report!" The radio transmitted the voice of a forward lookout: "Activity at the city's western gate. A large assembly of people, at least three hundred. There are vehicles, including pickups and technical vehicles."

Naxin became alert: "Be ready. This time they can't be allowed near the defenses."

"But... Commander, they've used civilians as human shields again. About a hundred civilians are walking upfront."

Naxin's heart sank.