Thunder Strikes Back

Chapter 810 The Symbol of Indomitability

Seidheid Kahan, the Prime Minister of the People's Party who had aspired to change India since he was a child and dedicated his life to transforming India into a powerful country, finally collapsed.Different from every previous political trough, this time there is no sign of turning defeat into victory, and he really feels that he has lost all the capital to make money.So far, none of the senior cabinet officials or military officials has survived the difficulties by his side, and half of the secretary doctors and guards around him have also run away.He could only helplessly learn what was happening outside through the live broadcast of Western TV stations.He watched helplessly as the enemy's artillery fire turned the city into a sea of ​​flames.

"Yes, there is also Muyar's guard unit and Pasad's army. They are still fighting, and I cannot allow me to give up first. If I have to persist to the last person, that person should be me." He kept talking to himself, emphasizing that he still had hope.But the fact that everyone betrayed him immediately brought him back to reality.Even if those troops are fighting, it does not mean that they are fighting for themselves, not to mention that they may give up resistance and surrender at any time.If he died now, it would obviously not have much impact on the outcome of the war.He is now alone in a basement, which is far from the previous scenes of huddling together.

There were hurried footsteps in the corridor, it should be one of the last few secretaries in the duty room.The door was pushed open, and a secretary wearing a bulletproof vest and a steel helmet stuck his head in: "Prime Minister, Mr. Charmain has something important to ask you."

"Great, let him in." He really didn't expect that it was Charmain who came to him at the last moment.

The hazy morning light shone into the ruined walls of New Delhi, and the fighting between the two sides calmed down a little.The Pakistani army, which stormed overnight, suffered huge losses and exhausted all the basic ammunition, and took the initiative to shrink back to launch the battle. There were only two exceptions. One was Yahini. The rest of the troops have already opened up, and supplies from outside the city are constantly being brought in. At this moment, it is like a sharp sword piercing the enemy's heart.

The second is Amir's battle group. They divided the Indian troops into different blocks and could not gather together for the time being. However, due to the fear of Yahini's presence on the flanks, the Indian army could not swallow this army.During the day, the mobility of Indian armored forces in the city decreases, and this force is currently considered safe.

After the situation stabilized, Yahini called Younis outside the city. Younis told him that the attack last night was opposed by the Chinese side. He holds a completely negative view and believes that it will only be counterproductive. Younis estimates that the Chinese army is also unwilling to get involved in urban warfare, and may eventually make concessions on the conditions of the truce to end urban warfare as soon as possible.

While Yahini was on the phone with the division headquarters, a JF17 rushed down the clouds and fired at the top floor of the Hilton Hotel in the north, but did not fire rockets or drop bombs. It probably just wanted to warn Western reporters who favored India. What the pilots did was crude and irrational, but most Pakistanis did come here with a vengeance.

Yahini also doesn't think that smashing the city into rubble is the best way. It's not that he has much sympathy for the people of New Delhi, but he thinks that too many houses collapsed and caused a huge obstacle to the advance of mechanized troops, and experienced infantry Hiding places can still be found from the rubble.Since the shadows between the ruins change irregularly, it will become more difficult for tankers hiding in the station car to observe the outside through the optical channel to find the enemy.

In order to further adjust the attack, he quietly cast a small drone from a high place for reconnaissance. This kind of small drone cannot see the target clearly at night and is only valuable during the day.

He usually uses this small aircraft to fly at an ultra-low altitude of 20 to 60 meters, which can obtain excellent reconnaissance results, and most camouflage and false targets can be identified; however, the reconnaissance distance should not exceed 1 kilometer (2 kilometers in the wild), otherwise It is easy to lose control.If the drone is spotted by the enemy, it can be easily taken down with an assault rifle.However, this electric-powered aircraft is very quiet, even if it flies overhead, it is not easy to detect.

The small drone buzzed over a bombed-out shapeless residential area. You could see Indian soldiers in twos and threes hiding in hiding places to guard, and then you could see larger troops hiding on the side of the street. In the shadow of the wall.

The closer to the core area, the taller and stronger the buildings are, and they are no longer those crumbling houses that can be bombed in two or three shots. Of course, the streets are also wider, which is not all unfavorable factors for tanks.His drone flew almost close to the building, and the anti-aircraft firepower installed on the roof could not hurt it.It is at a wonderful height in this battlefield, flexibly turning and moving between streets, flying over every corner Yahini wants to see.

Soon, this personal eyeliner belonging to him flew 1.5 kilometers to Dashaur Street, which is said to be the most respectable place in New Delhi.It can be seen that this is a wide boulevard, which is probably the widest road in New Delhi.

He noticed a series of infantry fighting vehicles passing quickly at the intersection ahead, and wanted to fly over to see what happened.But the vision of the drone suddenly began to bounce violently. According to his experience, it should be hooked to something, usually a high-voltage wire.

In the end, the drone's field of vision stopped shaking, and it stopped in the air, pointing obliquely to a certain direction to the northwest.

Yahini noticed that there was a tank with a towering muzzle, parked in an open space, seemingly not worried about being destroyed by the air force.No crew members were found around the tank.

Yahini suddenly found this tank very familiar, especially the protruding laser sensing equipment on the turret, which is something that is not available on Indian tanks.He adjusted to the maximum magnification and recognized that it was a damaged Type 99 tank. The top machine gun and optical equipment were removed, the rear skirt was blown up, and the engine should have been removed.Then, he saw the white circles on the tank artillery.

"Tassim, come and find someone."

He was so excited that he woke up the gunner who was dozing off on the seat with his voice.This is simply a miracle. The Indians pulled the captured tank down to Nehru BC at the end of the street. Unexpectedly, his original driver hit it a short distance away.

Two kilometers to the east of Yahini, the skinny Harish was hiding in an attic and sleeping. He slept very alertly and was always alert to the movement around him.Although he was deaf in his left ear when he was slapped by a burly policeman a few years ago, he has good hearing in his right ear.He could hear Pakistani army vehicles driving nearby.He also held the bazooka in his dream, waiting for the right moment.He feels that war is like stealing gold from a temple. The opponent seems to be well-defended, but there are always loopholes.

There was a loud and clear voice of chanting scriptures outside, and Harish woke up from his light sleep, knowing that the opportunity he had been waiting for had come.

He once stole the shoes of Muslims outside the Jama Masjid, knowing very well that during the solemn moment of adhan, no one would notice that their shoes were stolen.He saw enemy artillery and ammunition vehicles parked near the India Gate Square at night, but the surrounding defenses were tight, so he had to wait for a good opportunity.

Harish looked out from the huge hole in the attic swept by the 35mm machine gun. Sure enough, most of the guard posts were lifted. The soldiers gathered in the center of the square and began to bow down.

Since he was born, he lived in a cruel and realistic world. In that world, there is no god who favors pickpockets, and the only thing he can trust is his own judgment and speed.Harish stood up quietly, carrying a heavy weapon on his back, jumped out of the attic, and gently landed on the roof of the slightly lower building opposite. Two Pakistani soldiers standing downstairs did not notice the movement above their heads at all.

The Pakistan Army will not withdraw all sentries during prayers. A few days ago, he had already discovered the general pattern when fighting on the periphery, but there will be some dead spots for observation in the original tight defense.He was running on the top of tall and short buildings in the slums. The dilapidated buildings here do not have any construction regulations. Every house is different. The only rule is that the streets are very narrow. The tops of the two buildings scurried back and forth.The enemy thought they had cleared the area, but Harish wanted to challenge some of that perception.

When he jumped deep into a rooftop, he almost stepped on a Pakistani sniper hiding there. When the sniper covered in rags was frightened and stood up, Harish, who didn't know it, had run onto another roof.

The sniper raised his gun to aim, and saw the little bastard running and jumping in the scope without stopping.The target is too close, but it is not easy to grasp.

The sniper put away his gun and followed quietly. He knew that being too rough would only cause bad things. If he was patient, he would not have a problem dealing with this little brat.

Harish was completely unaware of the danger, and the plan seemed to be correct. He quietly ran up to the building on the side of the square, and looked at the crowd kneeling down in worship below, and couldn't help but feel secretly happy.He slung the bazooka onto his shoulder neatly, and searched for a row of cars parked along the street with a scope with a 13° field of view. Most of the trucks had artillery mounted on them, but that was not his goal, and soon he found a car full of Cart with ammo.He didn't know that at this moment, he also appeared in other people's scopes.

The target was 200 meters away, and Lieutenant Rajeev had never taught these illiterate cannon fodder how to shoot such a distant target.Of course, after launching more than 60 rockets within a week, Harish knew very well that the trajectory would fall at such a distance. As for how to correct this error, it was all in one thought. It seemed that it was not much more difficult than stealing a wallet. .

He lifted the bazooka slightly and thought to himself: If the gods are useful, why would someone have their shoes stolen while they were praying?
70 meters away, the sniper was silently chanting Allah is Almighty, taking the final aim.Harish focused and aimed, giving him the best chance.

Rockets fired from rooftops, flying over the heads of all the prostrate people in the plaza, and hitting trucks full of sub-packs with precision, Harish's career as a city thief led him to find high-value targets sense of smell.

The explosion immediately triggered a chain reaction, detonating the ammunition trucks and fuel trucks on both sides together.At the same time, a heavy 7.62 mm bullet pierced Harish's head from the side and behind.The huge cavity effect makes the warhead destabilize and roll in the skull.The emaciated headless corpse fell from the building.This unexamined life suddenly came to an end.There were no relics to identify him, except for a bravery medal in his pocket.

This street orphan in New Delhi, a low-caste pickpocket, never lived a peaceful life until the age of 14, but in the last month of his life, he was easily bewitched by patriotic propaganda, and finally threw himself into a desperate war like mad middle.He never really thought about why he was fighting.

Accompanied by violent shaking, a mushroom cloud rose again in the city of New Delhi. The senior war reporters of Western TV stations quickly determined that the explosion occurred in the areas occupied by the Pakistani army last night. From this, it can be concluded that these occupied areas have not yet been consolidated.

In the basement of the Prime Minister's Office, Kahan looked at the last visiting intelligence chief, Charman. Both of his hands were shaking violently. The shaking of the left hand was caused by a stroke a few months ago, while the shaking of the right hand was caused by pinching. Poison in pocket.In his subconscious mind, he wished that someone would tell him that there was still hope for everything.But as a veteran of the political arena, he has already seen the ominous omen.

"Your Excellency, at this point, we have only the last ray of hope left."

Charmain said slowly, his eyes wandering, as if he didn't dare to meet the Prime Minister's eyes.

"Hope? You mean military?"

"No, there is no way out militarily, I mean politically."

Kahan paused for a long time trying to guess what Charmain was about to say.

"Prime Minister, we have lost the war. There is no doubt about it. The Americans did what they should do. Now they can only watch from the sidelines. But the differences between the Chinese army and Pakistan have emerged. Maybe this is the next 50 years. India remains largely intact with a political bedrock that can be drawn upon."

Kahan was silent, waiting for Charmain to continue.

"There is no doubt that you will become a hero in India. In the future history books, you will become a hero second only to Gandhi, but not every hero will end in victory. I firmly believe that." Charman said The topic kept drifting, but Kahan remained silent, and he almost understood.

"What I want to say is that I was honored to join you in this struggle aimed at overthrowing the old structure. But the reality is... Now India needs a coward like Jamilun to clean up the mess. The Chinese can't Accept an unruly India, but they will accept a relatively complete India that can act as a barrier in South Asia out of geographical considerations."

"You mean, should I surrender?"

"No, you must not surrender," Charmain shook his head vigorously, "as the defeated, Indians must experience a history of humiliation, but we should never lose the belief in rising again, and you will become such a A symbol of faith."

"You really think so?"

"Yes, the so-called hero is a person who fights against fate. Heroes don't care about victory or defeat. But they must never succumb to fate."

"Well, I know what you want to say." Kahan choked up, and what Charmain said was indeed true, he must fight his fate to the end, even if he ended up taking poison and committing suicide.

"I'm sorry for saying this."

"No, don't be sorry, you are my old friend." Kahan said and stretched out his trembling hand.

Charman shook hands with the prime minister, turned and left Kahan's room without saying anything else.He was convinced that his words had worked and that the Pakistanis would not capture the Prime Minister alive as they had hoped.

(End of this chapter)