Ibrahim Al-Haj stood in the back of the armed pickup truck, holding an AK-47 assault rifle equipped with an EO 552 sight in his right hand, and a radio in his left hand, his eyes under the black mask fixed on the silhouette of Isriye emerging on the horizon.
"Falcon! Falcon! This is 'Sandstorm', do you hear me?"
The radio was filled with static, with no response.
"Damn it!" Ibrahim kicked the truck's metal body hard, the sound of the clash particularly piercing in the hot air.
His second-in-command, a big-bearded man with a face full of scars, came over and said in a low voice, "Master Ibrahim, Falcon Squad has been out of contact for over an hour, they might..."
"Shut up!"
Ibrahim turned his head abruptly, a flash of furious fire in his bloodshot eyes.
"They're fine! The government forces in Isriye ran away long ago; those spineless dogs wouldn't dare resist!"
At this time, corpses appeared on both sides of the dirt road.
Frustrated with nowhere to vent his anger, Ibrahim raised his hand and fired a burst into the corpses, tearing them apart.
The convoy continued advancing.
The "Storm" squad, consisting of fifteen armed pickup trucks and two modified trucks, kicked up rolling yellow dust in the desert.
Ninety-plus fighters, fully armed and high in morale.
They had just defeated a remnant of the government forces near Dora Town, morale was high, so they rushed toward the strategic town of Isriye.
Ibrahim was rapidly calculating in his mind.
Isriye is the gateway to Latakia Port and Damascus, taking this place would open up the entirety of Northern Syria to the 1515 group.
More importantly, it's a crucial channel for the government forces to supply Deir Ezzor. Once cut off, the defenders of Deir Ezzor would be left completely isolated.
The civil war had been going on for more than half a year.
With the covert support of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, the Freedom Army and the previously hidden Kurd Armed finally broke through the defense lines of the Silia Government Army, advancing southward from the northwest and northeast, charging straight toward Damascus.
The 1515 group, which had been entrenched in the eastern border areas, certainly wouldn't let such an opportunity slip by.
Taking Damascus meant capturing the capital, of significant symbolic importance.
Currently, the opposition armed forces in Silia included three strongest groups, and whoever takes Damascus will have more bargaining chips and voice when dividing the Silia pie in the future.
Therefore, the 1515 group halted their previous expansion plans in the western Illiguo, committing a large number of troops to Silia, intending to seize extensive territory and prepare to establish their own extremist force.
But unexpectedly, as they advanced to Deir Ezzor, they hit a tough nut. The defense of Deir Ezzor was under the command of the old General Isam, and under his leadership, the 1515 group suffered heavy losses and was unable to make headway.
Buckdadi finally had to order his troops to temporarily besiege Deir Ezzor, then send part of the forces to bypass it and push towards the central region, with the "Storm" squad being the vanguard responsible for attacking Isriye.
Therefore, this strategic town must be taken.
Controlling this place allows the 1515 group not only to cut off the route from Damascus to Deir Ezzor but also to gain the upper hand in attacking Damascus and other coastal cities.
As the vanguard, Ibrahim was determined to capture Isriye.
"Speed up the advance!"
He shouted into the radio: "Everyone, get into combat status! If Falcon Squad really had an incident, it means there are still resisting forces in the city! Kill them all, whoever they are!"
The engine roared, and the speed increased again.
About twenty minutes later.
At the eastern entrance of Isriye.
A dead silence.
Ibrahim raised his hand to signal the convoy to stop, took out his binoculars, and began observing the entrance of the town.
In his sight, the streets were deserted, with no one around, and only a few civilian corpses lay scattered by the roadside, apparently cleared out by the Falcon Squad he had sent out.
"Something's not right..."
He murmured softly.
"Sir, should we send someone in for reconnaissance?" the second-in-command asked.
Ibrahim sneered, "Of course."
He picked up the radio and switched channels: "'Martyr,' prepare to move!"
Five minutes later, an old, bullet-ridden pickup, loaded with explosives, was pushed to the front of the convoy.
Two fanatical young fighters got into the car, their eyes filled not with fear, but with feverish excitement.
"Allahu Akbar!"
They shouted in unison, then stepped on the gas, and the old pickup roared toward the town's entrance.
Ibrahim coldly watched the scene unfold, with a mocking smile on his lips.
A suicide car bomb attack was one of the 1515 group's classic tactics.
No matter what ambush lay in the city, it would be torn apart by this moving bomb.
There must be an ambush at the entrance.
Send the suicide bomb car in and see if they open fire—