Chapter 1799 - 1374: The Mutual Destruction Plan (Part 2)

Again, this trick.

Earlier, the southern front reported that the 1515 Armed used civilians as human shields, causing significant trouble for the Mercenary Camp and the government army's special forces.

It seems they plan to repeat this tactic here.

He picked up his binoculars and indeed saw a group of people pouring out from the city gates.

In the front were civilians, elderly, women, and children, about a hundred in total.

Behind them were armed militants, around two hundred, driving more than twenty different vehicles.

Distance: two kilometers.

"What do we do?" the deputy asked. "If we open fire, civilians will be killed. If we don't, they'll break through the line."

Naxin pondered for a few seconds.

"Execute Mr. Song's previous orders, let them come within two hundred meters," he commanded. "Then use non-lethal weapons to disperse the civilians. Meanwhile, artillery prepares to cover with fire once the civilians disperse."

"What if the dispersal fails?"

Naxin remained silent.

"Then..."

After a moment, he slowly said, "Aim at the rear of the convoy with the artillery. Block the follow-up troops with fire, let the front ones rush over. Then our infantry will resolve them in close quarters."

"That will cause significant casualties to us."

"I know," Naxin said. "But that's the order."

The order was given.

The Holy City Brigade soldiers on the western front began preparations.

Non-lethal weapons were moved to the front line, machine gun positions adjusted their firing angles, artillery calculated shooting elements.

The crowd came closer and closer.

One thousand meters.

Naxin could see the faces of the civilians in the front row.

They looked more terrified than those from the southern front, some of them were even being pushed forward with guns against their backs by the militants.

Eight hundred meters.

The militants started shooting, not at the line but into the air, frightening the civilians to speed up.

Five hundred meters.

Three hundred meters...

"Non-lethal weapons, fire!"

Tear gas, shock bombs...

Everything that could be used was used.

But the effect was limited.

Civilians coughed, cried, and fell, but the militants behind them drove them with gun butts, forcing them to continue moving forward.

Two hundred meters.

"Fire at the rear of the convoy!"

Naxin ordered.

The artillery on the western line opened fire.

Six Dawn-5 rocket launchers simultaneously fired, seventy-two rockets roared towards the rear of the convoy.

The explosions thundered through the sky.

Several vehicles at the rear of the convoy were hit directly, shattered into debris.

The explosions blocked the road, splitting the convoy into two sections.

The front section, about ten vehicles and over a hundred civilians, continued rushing towards the defense line.

The rear section was blocked by artillery fire and couldn't advance.

But the front section had already rushed to a distance of three hundred meters.

"Infantry, prepare for close combat!" Naxin shouted over the radio, "Try to aim at the armed ones! Watch out for civilians!"

Holy City Brigade soldiers charged out from the cover.

They didn't open fire but waited until the convoy was a hundred meters away.

Fifty meters.

Naxin saw the pickup truck at the front.

A DShK heavy machine gun was mounted on the truck, and the gunner had started shooting.

Bullets hit the cover, scattering debris.

"Open fire!"

All weapons on the defense 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, everyone on it dead.

But the vehicles behind continued to rush.

A suicidal truck accelerated, attempting to break into the defense line.

Naxin saw the driver in the truck's cab, a young man, probably not older than twenty, his face full of fanaticism.

On the defense line, a soldier raised a rifle to aim.

But the distance was too close, there wasn't enough time.

The truck rushed to twenty meters in front of the defense line.

At this moment, a Holy City Brigade soldier charged out from the side, carrying an RPG on his shoulder.

Whoosh——

Boom——

The rocket hit the side of the truck.

The explosion ignited the explosives on the truck.

A huge fireball engulfed the truck and the soldier.

The shockwave swept across the surroundings, knocking over several nearby soldiers.

The defense line was blown open with a gap.

"Plug the gap!" Naxin shouted.

The soldiers charged forward, shooting at the approaching militants.

Close-quarters combat began.

This was the most brutal battle, close enough to see the opponents' faces.

Bullets whistled through the air, grenades exploded among the crowd.

The gap was eventually plugged.

Over thirty militants who had charged in were all wiped out.

But the Holy City Brigade also paid a heavy price.

At least forty were killed, more were wounded.

The remaining militants, seeing no hope of breakthrough, began to retreat.

But artillery fire covered their retreat route, most died during retreat.

The battle lasted twenty minutes.

As the gunfire gradually ceased, bodies were piled up in front of the western defense line.

There were heavy civilian casualties too.

Of those over a hundred civilians, at least half had died in the crossfire.

Some were shot by militants, some hit by stray bullets, some affected by explosions.

The surviving civilians dragged their injured relatives toward the Holy City Brigade defense line.

Naxin left the command vehicle and arrived at the evacuation area.

The deputy stopped him: "Commander, these people need to be identified..."

Naxin could only stop, standing afar watching.

He saw a deceased mother holding her child, both dead.

Beside them was an elderly person, hands tied behind their back, obviously taken hostage.

Blood was everywhere.

He closed his eyes, unwilling to see more.

In this war, no one is a winner.

"Count the casualties, repair the defense line." He turned around and slowly walked back to the command vehicle, saying in a deep voice, "They might try again."

"Yes."

Naxin returned to the command vehicle, slumping into his seat, feeling utterly exhausted.

The time was now 9:35 in the morning.

Fierce battles raged in all directions, blood was spilled in every direction.

But the war must continue.

Until the last bullet.

Tikrit City center, underground command post.

Zakavi listened to reports from all fronts, his expression growing increasingly grim.

On the eastern line, the enemy had pushed to within two kilometers of the city center.

On the western line, two failed breakouts with losses exceeding four hundred.

On the southern line, the human shield tactic caused chaos for the enemy army, but the breakout troops were almost entirely wiped out.

On the northern line, the Kurd people steadily advanced, having taken over half of the North City District.

His forces were being compressed, with decreasing maneuvering space.

"How many men do we have left?" he asked.

"Less than ten thousand," his subordinate, forehead sweating, replied, "Ammunition is still sufficient, but morale is low. Many want to surrender."

"Surrender?" Zakavi sneered, "Tell them surrender means certain death. These heretics won't spare us. Our only option is to fight to the end."

"But..."

"No buts," Zakavi interrupted, "Execute the final plan. Plant all explosives, prepare all gas bombs. Let's make this city the enemy's grave."

"What about civilians..."

"Civilians?" Madness flickered in Zakavi's eyes, "Let them die. This is Allah's will."

The subordinate could only nod, "Yes, sir."

He turned and left.

Zakavi sat alone in the dark basement.

He took out a photograph, one that showed his wife and daughter.

Three years ago, they died in a US Army air raid.

Since then, all he had left was hatred.

Hatred drove him from Illiguo to Siria, and back to Illiguo.

He joined the 1515, engaged in countless battles, killed countless people.

Now, it might really be the end.

He wasn't afraid of death.

To him, death was merely a reunion with Allah, a reunion with family.

But he was unwilling.

Unwilling to fail like this, unwilling to let the enemy take over this city easily.

"Commander!" A soldier rushed in, panic written all over his face, "The enemy...their tanks have reached the city hall square! Only five hundred meters away!"

Zakavi stood up, calmly saying, "Understood. Execute the final command."

"What command?"

"Detonate all explosives, release all gas," Zakavi said. "Let's turn to ashes with the city."

The soldier's face turned deathly pale, "But...our men are still out there fighting! Civilians are still..."

"Execute the command!" Zakavi shouted, "This is Allah's will!"

The soldier looked at his crazy eyes, knowing further words were futile.

He turned and ran out.

Zakavi straightened his clothes, picked up the submachine gun on the table, and walked towards the door.

He wanted to die on the battlefield, at least die like a warrior.