The next day.
Kirkuk Oil Field Area, at dusk.
The setting sun dyed the western sky blood red, interwoven with the orange-yellow of the oil field's burning torches, creating a surreal hue.
The checkpoint of the 3rd Battalion of the Abu You Brigade was set at the junction of Highway 7 and the oil field access road, marking the boundary between the southern Abu You Control Zone and the northern Kurdish Control Zone.
Four soldiers languidly sat behind sandbag bunkers, with a modified Toyota Hilux parked beside them, a DShK heavy machine gun welded on the roof.
Sergeant Khalid was inspecting the gun's ammunition system; tal parts clanged crisply under the tools.
Not far away, the pumpjack moved rhythmically up and down like a giant steel woodpecker, pumping the black gold from underground to the surface.
"A boring day."
The young soldier Muhammad yawned as he adjusted his helt, "I'm about to forget how to fire a gun."
"Shut up, rookie." Khalid didn't lift his head, "You should cherish the quiet days. In Mosul, my brothers face ambushes three tis a day."
"But this isn't Mosul, the people over there are ours too."
Muhammad motioned northwards with his lips, "We're over here, like two neighbors staring over a fence. Why not just tear down the fence?"
Khalid finally looked up, his eyes carrying the unique weariness of a veteran.
"Because on the other side of the fence is what they want, and on this side is what we want. And we both think the other side has better stuff. But you know, rookie? Sotis the one who tears down the fence becos a hero, sotis a traitor. The only difference is who wins."
Muhammad nodded, sowhat understanding.
At this mont, Khalid's radio crackled to life.
Five minutes to six, the order ca: "The 'courier' will arrive soon. Follow the script. Be alert, unexpected guests might appear."
Khalid turned off the radio, his eyes sharpening.
He patted Muhammad's helt: "Wake up, we've got a job. Rember, whatever happens, follow the training. Today, we might...tear down the fence."
At precisely six, a rusted Volvo tanker truck approached from the north, bearing a license plate from the Kurdistan region—starting with a red K.
The truck moved slowly, as if under a heavy burden.
Khalid raised the stop sign, but the tanker truck did not slow down.
"Stop!"
He shouted, signaling to the soldiers behind the bunker.
The tanker truck instead accelerated, the engine roaring, belching black smoke from its exhaust.
Khalid "hurriedly" opened fire as a warning.
The bullets intentionally hit the road in front of the truck, kicking up a cloud of dust.
The other two soldiers also followed protocol, firing warning shots into the air, the gunshots especially jarring in the wide-open area of the oil field.
According to the script, the tanker truck should have traveled two hundred ters before its tires were punctured by predetermined spikes, after which the soldiers would control the driver.
Khalid climbed into the cab and quickly found the "smuggled weapons"—two pistols and several magazines.
But the unexpected happened.
The tanker truck had only traveled fifty ters before its left front tire struck a sharp rock—not a predetermined spike, but a common rock in the oil field area.
Boom!
With a dull explosion.
The truck tire blew out, and the vehicle sharply tilted left, crashing into the roadside ditch.
"Damn it."
Khalid cursed under his breath; this wasn't part of the plan.
But he reacted swiftly: "Surround the vehicle! Be careful! Do not fire without my order!"
The soldiers approached in tactical formation. Khalid yanked open the truck door, finding a pale young driver.
The guy raised his hands, stamring in Kurdish: "I just... the tire blew..."
At this mont, the sound of engines ca from the north.
Three trucks, five...
A total of eight Toyota pickups sped from the direction of the Kurdish Control Zone, filled with ard Kurds, so already raising their rifles.
The machine gunner on the lead vehicle aid his PKM at the Abu You soldiers.
"Drop your weapons!"
The Kurdish Commander shouted through a loudspeaker, his voice echoing in the twilight, "Release that truck!"
Khalid's heart pounded wildly.
These Kurds ca too quickly, as if they were prepared in advance.
He pressed his earpiece: "Battalion, situation has changed. Kurdish patrol appeared earlier, numbers... at least forty n."
The battalion's reply was brief: "Proceed with Plan B. Escalate."
Khalid took a deep breath and shouted to the Kurdish convoy: "This truck broke the checkpoint; we suspect smuggling weapons, it must be checked!"
"This is a Kurdistan vehicle; you have no jurisdiction!"
The bearded Kurdish Commander jumped out of his vehicle.
"Release the driver and the vehicle imdiately, or face the consequences!"
"We cannot release it; there are weapons on board! This violates our security agreent!"
The standoff continued between the two sides.
Abu You's soldiers numbered only twelve, but held the advantage of cover.
The Kurds outnumbered them, but were exposed in the open.
Khalid saw the Kurd commander using gestures to direct his n to fan out, forming an encirclent.
The tension was as taut as a bowstring.
"We need support," Muhammad whispered, his finger trembling slightly on the trigger.
"It's on the way," Khalid said, but he wasn't confident.
Plan B ant the conflict would inevitably escalate, but the command center hadn't stated when support would arrive.
The Kurd commander lost patience.
"I'll count to ten! Ten, nine, eight..."
When he reached three, sothing unexpected happened.
At the rear of the Kurd convoy, a young soldier on a pickup was overly tense. He saw shadows moving in Abu You's defensive positions and mistook it for a sign of attack, pulling the trigger.
The bullet didn't hit anyone, thudding into the sandbags.
But in the taut air, this shot was like a signal flare.
"Fire!"
Gunfire erupted instantly.
Khalid pushed Muhammad to the ground and grabbed the DShK heavy machine gun to retaliate. The 12.7mm bullets scread out, tearing open the hood of a Kurd pickup, which exploded, flas leaping skyward.
The next ten minutes were pure hell.
Abu You's soldiers utilized their cover to fiercely resist, but the Kurds flanked from both sides, bullets pounding the sandbags like raindrops, dust swirling.
Khalid saw two comrades hit and fall, one struck in the shoulder, the other shot in the abdon, screams drowned by the gunfire.
"Retreat! Fall back to point two!"
He ordered, while suppressing the pursuers with machine gun fire.
The soldiers covered each other as they retreated alternately.
The Kurds pursued relentlessly, but their chase was abruptly interrupted by fire from the flank — three BMP-1 infantry fighting vehicles charged out from the oil field buildings, 30mm autocannons blazing, blasting two Kurd pickups to pieces.
The main force of the Abu You Brigade had arrived.
"Counterattack!" The commander's order ca through the headset, "Imdiately seize oil wells 4, 5, and 6 in the north! Hurry!"
The real battle had begun.
The Abu You Brigade was clearly well-prepared.
The mortar teams set up positions at the rear, shells shrieking as they fell on the Kurd's fortifications; infantry advanced under the cover of armored vehicles, a cacophony of gunfire, explosions, and shouts filling the air.
The oil field's torches flickered in the blast waves, casting swaying shadows over the ruins and oil tanks, resembling scenes from hell.
The Kurd commander realized this was no accidental conflict but a preditated assault.
While organizing resistance, he radioed to Elbil for aid: "Kirkuk's northern oil field area is under large-scale attack by the Abu You Brigade! Repeat, large-scale attack! We need reinforcents!"
The response was grim: "Frontline units need ti to arrive, hold on."
"We can't hold on much longer!" The commander shouted into the radio, but the sounds of artillery drowned out his voice.
Night fell, and the battle intensified.
The Abu You Brigade's night combat gear was clearly superior to that of the Kurds.
The reinforcents that had arrived were evidently elite troops.
Everyone was equipped with night vision devices.
These soldiers moved like ghosts in the darkness, precisely eliminating Kurdish fire points.
The Kurds could only rely on their vehicle headlights and torches, making them clear targets.
At one in the morning, large numbers of Abu You Brigade combat units arrived.
At two in the morning, the Kurdish defensive line collapsed.
Survivors abandoned their positions and retreated north to the town.
The Abu You Brigade didn't pursue the defeated Kurd troops deeply but rapidly expanded the oil field area occupation and began fortifying the occupied zone.
Engineers set anti-personnel mines around the oil wells, bulldozers worked through the night to build earthwork defenses, ten Kornet anti-tank missiles were deployed at vantage points, and drones silently hovered over the night skies, monitoring the northern horizon.
At dawn, the entire Kirkuk oil field area flew the Abu You Brigade's flag.
A black falcon on a gold background, clutching an oil droplet in its talons.
The burning torches continued to flicker in the morning twilight, but their masters had changed.
Khalid sat beside a destroyed pickup, wrapping bandages around shrapnel wounds on his arm.
Muhammad handed him a water bottle: "Did we win?"
"For now," Khalid looked northward, where dust rose on the horizon, Kurd reinforcents finally on their way.
But the Abu You Brigade had already established a solid defense; what would co next was a brutal siege.
"But you know, rookie? After today, in the eyes of the tribal people, we're really traitors."
Muhammad remained silent for a mont.
"Do you think we're traitors, Sergeant?"
Khalid looked at the blood-seeping bandage on his arm, recalling fallen comrades.
"I only know that three years ago the committee gave the best oil fields to the Barzani family, leaving our tribe to defend barren land. When Abu You's leader took us out, they called us traitors. Today, we've reclaid what belongs to us... maybe the definition of traitor depends on who's speaking."
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