Currently, his "Liberation Forces" have blocked the strategic choke point for the 1515 extremist reinforcents heading to Titrick.
One of his subordinates hurried over, reporting softly, "Boss, there's news from Ozham. The fighting is quite intense. The 9th Armored Division has launched a full-scale attack."
"That has nothing to do with us."
Samir nodded, his face expressionless, and turned to ask:
"I'm concerned about the border over in Eastern Syria. What have our people seen there?"
"Since yesterday evening, convoys have been coming over from Anbar, traveling south along Highway 9. The scale is small, each ti with a dozen or so vehicles, but the frequency is high. As per your instructions, we haven't disturbed them."
"Crossing the border so openly in broad daylight seems a bit brazen..."
Samir scratched his head, his brow furrowing.
After all, while it's necessary to let them pass, crossing so ostentatiously through his control zone...
Those 1515 militants seem quite daring.
Did the recent leniency make them think he couldn't control this critical choke point?
"It's not too overt, they're all disguised as fleeing civilians or fuel-smuggling traders."
The subordinate grinned, showing a mouthful of teeth yellowed from Arabic water pipe smoke, "We pretended not to see them."
Samir thoughtfully acknowledged with a nod, his gaze shifting to the road ahead, dust swirling in the distance.
He knew what those vehicles were carrying.
Weapons, ammunition, and those warriors with fervent gazes.
They were continuously passing through his defense zone, heading south to reinforce a place called Titrick under heavy Arican attack.
He openly despised 1515; those extremists were his mortal enemies.
But he understood it was called a "balance strategy," as explained by Song Heping.
In the future, he wants to do more for his country, to fulfill his political ambitions, he needs a platform.
Before stepping onto the stage, he needs to obtain that qualification, the entry ticket to the power center in Baghdad.
Otherwise, no matter how impressive the ambitions are, they're useless.
Unless you're seated at the table, you are nothing.
Now, letting 1515 and Aricans bleed more, prolonging the war, it's advantageous for soone like him.
"Tell the brothers, keep sharp eyes but don't get itchy hands."
Samir turned towards the warehouse.
"As long as they don't stop, don't enter cities, pretend they don't exist."
The subordinate understood, turning to relay the orders.
At the sa ti, east of Raqqa Province, Syria, in a desert underground bunker far from the main roads.
This is the "Northern Battle Zone" headquarters commanding the 1515 operations in Northern Illigo.
Previously, this command was located in Northwest Illinois, but a year ago, after Song Heping joined, the days in Northwest Illinois beca increasingly difficult for 1515; under Buckdadi's instructions, the command first moved to the desert area in Eastern Siria, avoiding Song Heping's capture.
After all, that Easterner's strategies are unpredictable, having repeatedly taken Mosul before, just thinking about him gives people a toothache.
The Battlefield Commander, a middle-aged man known as "Sheikh Abu Omar," was speaking rapidly in Arabic over a satellite phone.
On the map in front of him, Titrick was encircled with a heavy red ring.
"Yes, yes, they've begun... Two brigades from the governnt army are on the front, they have tanks but lack strong offensive will... The focus is on aerial and flank assault teams... We need more anti-tank weapons, especially tools to counter helicopters... Personnel losses are great, but the lines are holding..."
The other end of the call was a mber of the "War Committee" far in Raqqa Village's underground headquarters.
Omar could hear arguntative voices in the background.
A few minutes later, he hung up, turning gravely towards the main leaders surrounding him.
"Emir knows the situation. He will try to find solutions. But our main support must co from ourselves and... our brothers from Anbar."
One leader spat, "Anbar? Can we rely on that Mosul route? Now that Samir has taken control there, we've lost control over Mosul; to avoid his defense zone, we'd have to first go south, then north; besides the long journey, the southern region is desert, too vast, without much urban cover, making it easy for Aricans to recon, increased risks!"
"Now things are different."
Omar moved to a larger regional map, pointing at Mosul.
"There were conflicts between Aricans and Song Heping before. When we encountered them last ti in Bayji, Song Heping lost so many people while Aricans just watched. If Persians suddenly appear, Song might be in trouble, showing..."
He stroked his Big Beard.
"A few days ago, so many of our people infiltrated the border, passing through Samir's defense zone into Titrick. Do you believe it was deliberate leniency on his part?"
"Leniency?"
The other leaders exchanged glances, faces full of contemplation.
"That's right." Omar affird, "So now is our opportunity! Regardless of Song's intent, Titrick must be defended. It's not just a city; it's a symbol. It proves we can resist the Arican-led alliance. Wear them down, humiliate them. For this, any price can be paid."
The price.
Omar understood the weight of this word.
It ant he would need to send thousands of soldiers, including many seasoned veterans, into the city transforming into a furnace.
"Orders." He decided, his voice firm, "First, within Titrick, all reserved anti-tank missiles, sniper rifles, explosives, prioritize distribution to the 'Martyr Camp' and squads with urban warfare experience. Tell Ahd, don't worry about losses of streets or houses, use ruins, tunnels, and snipers to hold them, wear them down."
"Second, notify all secret transportation routes to Titrick to increase frequency. Personnel, weapons, ammo, anything that can move, send it in. Especially individual air defense missiles and mortar rounds."
"Third," he paused, a hint of hardness in his eyes, "activate the 'Whirlwind' plan. Mobilize our propagandists in Anbar and Nineveh Province, encourage more youth to 'migrate' to Titrick to join the battle. Tell people, there's a holy war against new Crusader invasion happening there!"
The leaders quickly recorded the orders, none dissenting.
This is the path they've chosen, it's either victory or martyrdom.
"As for us..." Omar glanced at the map one last ti, "Get ready. If Titrick is truly in peril... we might need to launch a distraction attack, even if it's just to disperse so of Arica's aerial forces."
Orders given, the underground bunker beca busy again, mixed with sounds of radio calls, keyboard taps, and people running.
A battle far away in Titrick, yet its neural hub extended beneath this Syrian desert.
Under the push of various wills, the gears of war were spinning towards bloody unknown.
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